Read Online A Day of Dragon Blood by Daniel Arenson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel Arenson
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thousand of these buggers knock on our doors."
The two embraced—a long, wordless, crushing hug. Then Elethor stepped outside, shifted into a dragon, and kicked off the palace stairway. His wings billowed with air, and he soared over the city.
"The wait is over, Solina," he whispered as the wind whistled around him. He remembered the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body, and the bite of her blade. "You were my love. You were my life. You will die in my fire."
SOLINA
She stood in her chambers, twin blades in hands, clad in a robe of golden weave embroidered with tiny pomegranates. She stared into her tall bronze mirror and saw a queen, a scarred woman, a holy daughter of the Sun God, and a spurned soul lost in endless desert.
Around her glittered the glory of her dynasty: platinum chalices inlaid with ruby ibises, tapestries of jackals and falcons, jewelled sabres with pommels shaped as suns, and chests of gems and spices. Blankets woven of gold and silver adorned her bed of ivory. Outside her arched windows, her oasis spread to rolling dunes kissed with sunlight. By the brightest window stood the tools she had brought here for him: chisels, hammers, and three great blocks of marble.
"It was to be your nook," she whispered. "Your place to sculpt while I stood nude before you, watching you form me from stone." She touched her left blade to her lips where he would kiss her. "Oh, Elethor... this was a chamber for us."
She would bring him here. But now she would bring him in chains. Now she would hurt him. Now her soul would forever remained split like her face where the scars of fire ran.
"You could have sculpted me with hammers, but now these hammers will break your bones, Elethor. I will break your spine one segment at a time as you scream and beg me to kill you." She closed her eyes; they burned with tears. "Why did you refuse me, Elethor? Why did you drive me to this?"
She turned away from the marble and tools, walked to a window, and stood with the sunlight upon her. The steeples of Irys rose before her, carved of polished sandstone capped with platinum. Far in the south, past leagues of sand, she could just make out a distant patch of green: the oasis of Iysa, a twin to Irys, where the small oranges she craved grew in winter. Her kingdom rolled beyond the horizon, yet what were treasure and glory worth if she had none to share them with?
I could have shared them with...
A deep, dark memory stirred inside her, clawing at the prison she had buried it in. She felt its cold breath in the core of her being.
No.
She clenched her fists.
No.
That memory was still too raw, still too real, a demon inside her that she dared not awake. She placed her hand on her belly. She trembled, closed her eyes, and bit down hard.
That one will remain buried. That pain I dare not feel again.
She spun toward her chamber doors, intricate works of art carved of olivewood and embossed with silver falcons.
"Ziz!" she shouted.
The doors opened and her slave stepped inside, a demure young woman. Her platinum hair fell in braids, and her blue eyes looked up with fear, then down at her toes. She wore a dress the color of sand, its hems lined with blue tassels. She was a desert child, the daughter of nomads—a good slave.
"My queen," the girl said, eyes downcast.
"Come here, Ziz. Stand beside me."
The girl crossed the chamber and joined Solina by the window. The desert wind blew her hair. When Solina thrust her blade, Ziz gasped but did not scream. Red bloomed across her gown like a desert flower. She looked up, eyes huge blue pools, wondering, betrayed. Solina held her as she died, kissed her forehead, and laid her down at her feet. She had needed this, needed to kill, needed to feel the warmth of blood on her fingers, see the light of life extinguished from a pair of eyes. She pulled her blade free and licked the blood from it thoughtfully. Blood kills the memories. She gazed upon her kingdom.
"Soon the palace will be
The two embraced—a long, wordless, crushing hug. Then Elethor stepped outside, shifted into a dragon, and kicked off the palace stairway. His wings billowed with air, and he soared over the city.
"The wait is over, Solina," he whispered as the wind whistled around him. He remembered the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body, and the bite of her blade. "You were my love. You were my life. You will die in my fire."
SOLINA
She stood in her chambers, twin blades in hands, clad in a robe of golden weave embroidered with tiny pomegranates. She stared into her tall bronze mirror and saw a queen, a scarred woman, a holy daughter of the Sun God, and a spurned soul lost in endless desert.
Around her glittered the glory of her dynasty: platinum chalices inlaid with ruby ibises, tapestries of jackals and falcons, jewelled sabres with pommels shaped as suns, and chests of gems and spices. Blankets woven of gold and silver adorned her bed of ivory. Outside her arched windows, her oasis spread to rolling dunes kissed with sunlight. By the brightest window stood the tools she had brought here for him: chisels, hammers, and three great blocks of marble.
"It was to be your nook," she whispered. "Your place to sculpt while I stood nude before you, watching you form me from stone." She touched her left blade to her lips where he would kiss her. "Oh, Elethor... this was a chamber for us."
She would bring him here. But now she would bring him in chains. Now she would hurt him. Now her soul would forever remained split like her face where the scars of fire ran.
"You could have sculpted me with hammers, but now these hammers will break your bones, Elethor. I will break your spine one segment at a time as you scream and beg me to kill you." She closed her eyes; they burned with tears. "Why did you refuse me, Elethor? Why did you drive me to this?"
She turned away from the marble and tools, walked to a window, and stood with the sunlight upon her. The steeples of Irys rose before her, carved of polished sandstone capped with platinum. Far in the south, past leagues of sand, she could just make out a distant patch of green: the oasis of Iysa, a twin to Irys, where the small oranges she craved grew in winter. Her kingdom rolled beyond the horizon, yet what were treasure and glory worth if she had none to share them with?
I could have shared them with...
A deep, dark memory stirred inside her, clawing at the prison she had buried it in. She felt its cold breath in the core of her being.
No.
She clenched her fists.
No.
That memory was still too raw, still too real, a demon inside her that she dared not awake. She placed her hand on her belly. She trembled, closed her eyes, and bit down hard.
That one will remain buried. That pain I dare not feel again.
She spun toward her chamber doors, intricate works of art carved of olivewood and embossed with silver falcons.
"Ziz!" she shouted.
The doors opened and her slave stepped inside, a demure young woman. Her platinum hair fell in braids, and her blue eyes looked up with fear, then down at her toes. She wore a dress the color of sand, its hems lined with blue tassels. She was a desert child, the daughter of nomads—a good slave.
"My queen," the girl said, eyes downcast.
"Come here, Ziz. Stand beside me."
The girl crossed the chamber and joined Solina by the window. The desert wind blew her hair. When Solina thrust her blade, Ziz gasped but did not scream. Red bloomed across her gown like a desert flower. She looked up, eyes huge blue pools, wondering, betrayed. Solina held her as she died, kissed her forehead, and laid her down at her feet. She had needed this, needed to kill, needed to feel the warmth of blood on her fingers, see the light of life extinguished from a pair of eyes. She pulled her blade free and licked the blood from it thoughtfully. Blood kills the memories. She gazed upon her kingdom.
"Soon the palace will be
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