A Day of Dragon Blood

MORI



Silence filled the royal hall.

Beyond the marble columns, silence filled the city.

Mori sat upon the Oak Throne, barely wanting to breathe, and prayed for some sound, anything to break this emptiness. She wanted to hear armor creak as soldiers rushed outside, or dragons roar above, or minstrels play, or children laugh, or... anything other than this silence that rang in her ears.

Outside, the guards manned their posts, perched upon wall and roof. Their family members, those too young or old or wounded to serve, huddled in their homes. Barely a breath stirred across Nova Vita, jewel of the north, capital of Requiem.

We all wait, Mori thought, with bated breath, with tight hearts, with tingling fingers. We wait for the storm to strike. Stars of Requiem, look over my brother. Bring him home to me safely.

She turned to her left, and the fear in her heart softened. Bayrin stood there, the only other soul in the hall. Her guardsman held the hilt of his sword, and a helm covered his head of shaggy red curls. When he saw her looking at him, he tilted that head to her, gave her a crooked smile, and winked.

"You look quite comfortable in that throne, little one. I think when Elethor returns, he might find a contender for the crown."

She gave him a shaky smile; the sound of his voice was desperate relief, a breath of air for a drowning woman.

"I wish I never had to sit upon this throne," she said. Her smile faded and she looked at her feet; she was short enough that they did not reach the floor. "I miss the days my father sat here. I miss the days Orin filled the seat when Father was away. I..." She sighed and clutched her luck finger. "I never thought Elethor and I would be the ones ruling here."

Bayrin cleared his throat theatrically. "Elethor and I, is it? Mors, my sweetness, dear old El rules alone; he is our king and tyrant, as tragic as that is. You are a seat filler." He gave her a penetrating stare. "At least you are quite prettier to look at than Elethor; guarding him is a real eyesore."

Mori lowered her eyes. She wished she could laugh at Bayrin's words. More than anything, she wanted to lie in his arms in some fluffy bed, to watch the clouds outside the window, to laugh at his prattling until her cheeks hurt. She wanted little else from this life; not a throne to fill, not gowns, not power... only a warm bed, an open sky, and a man who loved her. She sighed. If Solina reached this city, even those humble dreams would be lost. Solina would burn them with the rest of this city.

Before her eyes, she saw the Phoenix War again: Solina raining fire upon the city; children running burning through the streets; men crawling through tunnels, bleeding, missing limbs; and more painful than all, she saw her brother burnt and cut on the ground, entrails spilling, as Lord Acribus hurt her. She closed her eyes, as if she could banish those visions in darkness, but they still danced.

Breathe, Mori, she told herself. Like Adia taught you. Breathe and be brave.

Standing at her side, Bayrin took her hand and squeezed it. "Don't be scared, Mors. If any wyverns enter this room, I'll give them a taste of my fire. It doesn't taste quite as bad as my mother's porridge, but it'll do the trick."

But Mori wasn't scared for herself; she had fought in a war already, and she was ready to fight another one. She was scared for her people: the farmers and tradesmen, the merchants and miners, the children and elderly. If Elethor did not return—she trembled to think of it, but knew that she must—she would lead what remained of Requiem. Could she and Bayrin truly fight Solina and all her hatred?

She looked at Bayrin. He smiled at her, hand on the hilt of his sword.

And if the time comes, she thought, will he draw that sword for my last mercy? If our city walls lie fallen around us, and Solina's men pound at our doors, would Bayrin find the strength to plunge his sword into my breast, then fall upon it?

She left her throne and walked across the great hall of Requiem's kings. Its marble columns towered, the tallest structures in Requiem. As she walked, Mori touched every pillar she passed. She had studied many scrolls about their history. Three hundred years ago, Queen Gloriae had risen from the ashes of war and built forty-nine of these columns. The fiftieth, which Mori now approached, was thousands of years old; the first King Aeternum, father of the dynasty, had carved that column in the days when Vir Requis still lived wild. In the books, it was written that even Dies Irae the Destructor, who had killed a million Vir Requis, could not topple that column.

When Mori reached the ancient pillar, she placed her palm against it, lowered her head, and closed her eyes.

"Please, King Aeternum," she whispered, willing her voice to travel past the ages, through generations of monarchs, to the first king of her land. "Please, my king, give us strength. Watch over us this hour. I will not let your column fall."

She tried to imagine the old monarchs of Requiem standing here and praying: King Aeternum who raised this column millennia ago; King Benedictus who led Requiem in war against the griffins; the great Queen Lacrimosa who fell in the Battle of King's Forest; Queen Gloriae who raised Requiem from ruin and founded Nova Vita; Queen Luna the Traveler who had written many books and scrolls; and her father, King Olasar, the greatest man she had known.

And now Elethor and I, the young prince and princess, are the last of our dynasty. Now we must pray, and we must fight.

She opened her eyes, left the column, and approached the doors of her hall. They stood open before her, revealing the city. Mori stepped under the gateway, stood above a great marble stairway, and stared upon her realm. Cobbled streets snaked among young birches, spreading to white walls; beyond lay forests, mountains, and an orange sky. The wind billowed her hair.

Bayrin came to stand beside her and held her hand. They stood together, silent, watching the long night fall.