Read Online Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) by Daniel Arenson - Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Arenson
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Ka'altei, leader of a great flock.
She no longer wore her old, tattered garment of rat furs, the one
Zerra had pissed on and left to stink. Today she wore a resplendent
tiger pelt and a golden headdress. Her jaw was still crooked, her
body still small, but her hair was growing longer, her limbs
stronger, and her spirit soared like the rocs she led. Seventy of the
oily vultures flew around her, yellow eyes gleaming, their feathers
dank and dripping. The tribe elders, women, and children had always
walked upon the earth, too lowly to ride upon the hunters' rocs, but
now they rode too, five or six souls upon each bird. Three of the
rocs held their totem pole, flying together, and upon the pillar's
crest gleamed the gilded ivory tusk the tribe worshiped.
Looking upon her tribe, Laira heaved a deep sigh.
I suffered, bled, and killed for Goldtusk. And now I must give
this tribe away. She tightened her lips. For Requiem.
She looked to her left. Not a mark away flew the dragons of Requiem,
twenty in all. Maev, Dorvin, and Alina had flown west to seek others.
Tanin and Issari flew south across the sea. Here was all that
remained, barely a tribe, barely a clan, a humble twenty dragons who
would forge a nation.
I wish you were here with us, Sena, Laira thought, the pain
still fresh inside her, a raw wound in her breast she did not think
would ever heal. You could have flown with us now. She lowered
her head. I let you down. We all did. You were strong in your own
way, not ours. We failed to see it. I failed. I'm sorry.
She took a shaky breath and whispered prayers for his soul—a prayer
to Ka'altei of the Goldtusk tribe, to Taal the Father God of Eteer,
and to the stars of Requiem. She did not know if any of these deities
heard her prayers. She did not know if they'd bless her brother who
had sinned, who had taken his own life. But it seemed to Laira that
as she prayed, she saw those stars above, just a brief glimmer, even
in the daylight, and that soothed her. Perhaps Sena was up there now,
looking down upon her.
A grunt sounded to her left. She turned to see Jeid leave the other
dragons and fly toward the rocs. Largest among the dragons, he flew
with a clatter of scales, and smoke streamed from his nostrils and
mouth. With his wide wings and bulky frame, he was as large as Neiva,
Laira's roc. He glided at her side, the wind fluttering his wings
with little thuds.
"How sure are you this will work?" he said, staring at her
with one eye. "How well do you know this Chieftain Oritan?"
Riding upon her roc, Laira had to cry out to be heard over the wind.
"Better than I knew you when I flew to you for aid!" She
gave him a wink and a mirthless smile. "Oritan has been craving
an alliance with Goldtusk for years. He practically shoved his
daughter at Zerra, demanding a marriage, a joining of the clans.
Zerra always refused, but now this is my tribe." She inhaled
deeply. "We will forge an alliance. We will fight my father
together."
Jeid grumbled something under his breath, and Laira saw the doubt in
his eyes.
But I haven't told you all, Jeid, she thought, eyes stinging. For if you knew, you would try to stop me. But I will do this
deed. For Requiem. For our column of marble and our stars above. And
for you, Jeid. Her eyes stung. For the man I love more than
life.
They had been flying for three days now, barely stopping even for
sleep, crossing plains of grass, misty forests, and hills that rolled
for many marks. They fed upon herds of deer, flocks of geese, and
fish that filled the rivers that snaked below. And always the hint of
stench wafted on the breeze, and once a distant shriek—perhaps just
the wind—sounded in the distance. Sometimes Laira heard or smelled
nothing, but she always felt the presence of pursuit. It was a chill
along her spine, an iciness in her belly, a prickling on her nape.
Whenever she shut her eyes, she saw it again—the demonic octopus
constricting her, speaking her name, and its spawn devouring the
She no longer wore her old, tattered garment of rat furs, the one
Zerra had pissed on and left to stink. Today she wore a resplendent
tiger pelt and a golden headdress. Her jaw was still crooked, her
body still small, but her hair was growing longer, her limbs
stronger, and her spirit soared like the rocs she led. Seventy of the
oily vultures flew around her, yellow eyes gleaming, their feathers
dank and dripping. The tribe elders, women, and children had always
walked upon the earth, too lowly to ride upon the hunters' rocs, but
now they rode too, five or six souls upon each bird. Three of the
rocs held their totem pole, flying together, and upon the pillar's
crest gleamed the gilded ivory tusk the tribe worshiped.
Looking upon her tribe, Laira heaved a deep sigh.
I suffered, bled, and killed for Goldtusk. And now I must give
this tribe away. She tightened her lips. For Requiem.
She looked to her left. Not a mark away flew the dragons of Requiem,
twenty in all. Maev, Dorvin, and Alina had flown west to seek others.
Tanin and Issari flew south across the sea. Here was all that
remained, barely a tribe, barely a clan, a humble twenty dragons who
would forge a nation.
I wish you were here with us, Sena, Laira thought, the pain
still fresh inside her, a raw wound in her breast she did not think
would ever heal. You could have flown with us now. She lowered
her head. I let you down. We all did. You were strong in your own
way, not ours. We failed to see it. I failed. I'm sorry.
She took a shaky breath and whispered prayers for his soul—a prayer
to Ka'altei of the Goldtusk tribe, to Taal the Father God of Eteer,
and to the stars of Requiem. She did not know if any of these deities
heard her prayers. She did not know if they'd bless her brother who
had sinned, who had taken his own life. But it seemed to Laira that
as she prayed, she saw those stars above, just a brief glimmer, even
in the daylight, and that soothed her. Perhaps Sena was up there now,
looking down upon her.
A grunt sounded to her left. She turned to see Jeid leave the other
dragons and fly toward the rocs. Largest among the dragons, he flew
with a clatter of scales, and smoke streamed from his nostrils and
mouth. With his wide wings and bulky frame, he was as large as Neiva,
Laira's roc. He glided at her side, the wind fluttering his wings
with little thuds.
"How sure are you this will work?" he said, staring at her
with one eye. "How well do you know this Chieftain Oritan?"
Riding upon her roc, Laira had to cry out to be heard over the wind.
"Better than I knew you when I flew to you for aid!" She
gave him a wink and a mirthless smile. "Oritan has been craving
an alliance with Goldtusk for years. He practically shoved his
daughter at Zerra, demanding a marriage, a joining of the clans.
Zerra always refused, but now this is my tribe." She inhaled
deeply. "We will forge an alliance. We will fight my father
together."
Jeid grumbled something under his breath, and Laira saw the doubt in
his eyes.
But I haven't told you all, Jeid, she thought, eyes stinging. For if you knew, you would try to stop me. But I will do this
deed. For Requiem. For our column of marble and our stars above. And
for you, Jeid. Her eyes stung. For the man I love more than
life.
They had been flying for three days now, barely stopping even for
sleep, crossing plains of grass, misty forests, and hills that rolled
for many marks. They fed upon herds of deer, flocks of geese, and
fish that filled the rivers that snaked below. And always the hint of
stench wafted on the breeze, and once a distant shriek—perhaps just
the wind—sounded in the distance. Sometimes Laira heard or smelled
nothing, but she always felt the presence of pursuit. It was a chill
along her spine, an iciness in her belly, a prickling on her nape.
Whenever she shut her eyes, she saw it again—the demonic octopus
constricting her, speaking her name, and its spawn devouring the
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