A Day of Dragon Blood

ELETHOR



Children lay dead upon the fallen palace. The corpses of elders, their white hair stained red, lay broken upon the shattered amphitheater. The body of a mother huddled under an orphaned archway, clutching the charred remains of her babe. As he flew between wyverns, searching for survivors, Elethor saw only death—thousands of corpses, extinguished stars.

"Mori!" he cried. "Mori, where are you?"

He could not see her. Night was falling, a sunset of fire and smoke and cloud. Shadows cloaked the city like a blanket. It began to rain. The drops pattered against the ruins, washing away the blood and acid. Distant thunder rolled and countless wyvern eyes burned red in the darkness.

"Mori!" he shouted. He had not seen her since bursting from underground in a shower of light. Had she fallen upon the city? He dived and flew between shattered columns, seeking his sister. So many dead—he saw corpses everywhere. They lay upon bricks, in puddles of acid, upon fallen walls. Some were mere skeletons, flesh eaten away and ribs cracked like the city's columns. Others were torn apart, limbs scattered. Is one of those charred remains my sister? Elethor's eyes burned as he called for her.

The rain fell in silver curtains. Nothing but bodies. Nothing but ruin.

And so it ends, Elethor thought in a haze. So does Requiem fall, as it fell in the days of King Benedictus. His eyes stung and smoke streamed between his teeth. I'm sorry, Requiem. I'm sorry, Lyana. I failed.

"Fly!" Bayrin cried in the distance. "Go, into the forest, fly!"

Elethor looked up to see his friend. Blood covered Bayrin's scales, but he still flew, herding a group of ragged, lacerated dragons. The survivors—there were a dozen or more—were taking flight from a collapsed house like crows rising from a disturbed tree. Wyverns spotted them, shrieked, and began to chase.

Growling, Elethor flew toward them. His body ached. The bolts of crossbows dug inside him, and burns stung across his scales.

Some still live. Some I can still save.

King's Column rose before him, a pillar of moonlight rising from darkness. It glowed in the rain. So long as it stood, there was hope, Elethor knew. So long as that column rose, he would fly. He would fight. He would seek the sky beyond wyvern and cloud.

He flew around that column, heading toward Bayrin and the others, when a great wyvern rose before him from the ruins. Its wings unfurled, black shrouds for the death of a god. Its eyes blazed, two red torches. It blocked the sky, a demon of darkness and iron. Atop its back rode a deity of gold, her banner streaming, her sword raised. The Queen of Tiranor cried out to him in the night.

"Elethor! Elethor!"

He reared before her, wings wide and fangs bared. "I'm here, Solina."

She raised her sabre high. Lightning flashed and slammed into the blade. Solina laughed—an echoing laughter that rang across the city like funeral bells.

"Hello, my love! Hello, my king!" Wyverns rose around her, black ghosts in the night. Solina pointed her blade at Elethor and called to them. "Grab the Reptile King! Bring him to me in chains."

The wyverns surged.

Elethor soared.

He rose through rain and cloud. Lightning crashed around him. Thunder blasted him and he howled in the darkness. Wyverns shrieked below him, and pillars of acid rose around him, a temple of corrosion. The clouds covered them. Elethor could see no more than several feet in any direction. He kept flying higher through the storm. The wind howled and shards of lightning exploded. One lightning bolt hit a wyvern; the beast screamed and fell.

"Catch the reptile!" Solina's voice stormed somewhere below him. "Chain the—"

Thunder boomed over her words. Elethor leveled off and dived through the clouds. He tried to fly north, to head into distant forests where he could hide between smoldering trees. He could only guess the direction. He saw nothing but clouds, heard nothing but thunder, rain, and shrieks. Acid sprayed to his left, nearly searing him. He banked right and flew higher.

He had to find Mori. He had to find Lyana and Bayrin. Were they still alive? Was anyone still alive? He ached to cry to them, to roar their names, but dared not; wyverns flew everywhere in the clouds. One appeared before him, emerging from darkness ten feet away. Elethor dared not even blow flames lest the other wyverns see; he drove forward and lashed his claws, tearing the rider apart. The wyvern fell. The rider's limbs tumbled.

Pain drove through Elethor. His eyes stung. Smoke blew around him, searing hot. He wanted to still his wings, to fall upon his realm, to lie forever as charred bones.

I failed my kingdom. I failed Lyana. I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry, Orin.

He looked at the sky, seeking the halls of his fathers, but saw only cloud and rain. He rose higher. His wings blazed and wind howled around him. Ice began to spread across his scales, and the thin air spun his head, and yet still he soared. Requiem. May our wings forever find your sky. The clouds broke, and he emerged from the storm. Below him, the clouds and rain and lightning swirled, an orchestra of water and fire. Above him spread the night, ablaze with countless stars. The Draco constellation shone, glittering so brightly it nearly blinded him. He flew, caught between storm and star.

"I fly to you, Father," he whispered. All sounds faded; he could barely hear the storm beneath him. He looked up at the stars. "I fly to you, Queen Gloriae. I soon will dine in your hall, King Aeternum."

Will Mori await me there? Will Lyana forever sit by my side as the celestial columns rise around us? Will the great kings of old scorn me for my failure, for our ancient realm that fell under my reign?

A voice spoke behind him, clear in the night, as if answering his thoughts.

"You did not fail, Elethor."

He turned to see Solina upon her wyvern. The beast flapped its wings languidly, hovering before him. The golden queen regarded him, a visor hiding her face.

Elethor wanted to rage. He wanted to howl. He wanted to blow fire, to fight, to kill Solina and then crash dead with her to the ruins below. Yet no rage found him now, only grief that dampened his eyes, churned his gut, and swelled in his throat.

"I let Requiem fall," he said. He hovered before her. The night seemed so silent; only dim rumbles of thunder rolled below. No more wind blew. He hovered before his old love in soft darkness and starlight.

She shook her head. "No, Elethor. You could not have stopped me. Your father and brother could not stop me either; they fell before my flame. You fought me for many days, Elethor, and you led your people with honor. They are not ashamed of you, Elethor. You fought nobly and you are stronger than you know. Your father and brother were worshipped as warriors; they saw you as a sculptor, a stargazer, a lesser prince. But I knew who you are, El. I always knew. You showed your strength to me and to your people."

She lifted her visor. Her eyes were solemn. He remembered those eyes. With stabs of agony, he remembered marveling at their beauty, staring for hours into their depths. This was the woman he would kiss, the woman whose naked body he held under blankets, whose hair he would stroke—the woman who had claimed his soul and even now, even here, held it in her hands.

"My people are dead," he said. "Solina, what strength can I show them now?"

She pointed above to the Draco constellation. It seemed impossibly distant, impossibly large, great suns of distant fire.

"They watch over you, Elethor. The souls of your people whisper there; so do the souls of your father and brother. I sent them there, but I need not send you." She reached out to him. "It's not too late, Elethor. I love you. I've always loved you. Requiem is gone; I crushed it so we might be together again. Return with me to your home. Return with me to the desert; we were always meant to rule there together." Tears sparkled in her eyes like more stars. "Elethor... I hate you. I vowed to destroy you. But now I look upon you and I love you." She reached toward him. "You and I were always meant to fly here, to hurt each other, to love in pain. Blood and fire have always been ours; we have beaten blood and fire before, and I returned to you. It's time to go home."

Soft light glowed around her, and she seemed to Elethor not the Queen of Tiranor, not the tyrant and slayer of his people, but the Solina who would hold him in caves and forests, whisper of secret magical kingdoms, and cry onto his shoulder, then laugh and kiss him.

"I never wanted anything but this," Elethor said softly. "A quiet place. The light of stars. You and I. For years that's all I dreamed of."

Her wyvern's wings rose and fell like a silent midnight sea. Solina reached out toward him from the saddle. "That is what you have! That is what I brought us. Let your magic go, Elethor. Turn into the man I love, ride with me in my saddle, and we will live like this forever. No more fire or blood—just you and me."

He laughed weakly. Smoke rose from his nostrils. "That is not what you said last year when you drove your dagger down my face. You spoke of torture then. You spoke of making me beg for death." He sighed. "Solina, the days when we could have been like this, here in solitude, are gone. Too much blood has spilled. Too many stones have shattered. Too many lights have gone out."

She shook her head. "There is only this, Elethor. Don't you understand? There is no more Requiem for you to return to." Her wyvern lowered its head, its dark body nearly disappearing into shadow. Solina seemed to float before him, a golden queen in the night. "All has fallen. All has been laid to waste. The land where we grew up is gone, Elethor, swept away in this rain like the last snows of winter. Let spring rise from its ashes. With me, Elethor. With me."

He looked below him. The storm swirled silently, a sea of gray and red and blue, flaring every moment with the faded glow of lightning. Requiem had fallen; there was no more home beneath those clouds. All was gone: the temple where he would pray with his people, their song rising between the columns to the stars; the house where he would sculpt and whisper Solina's name in the night; the gardens and hills where he would laugh with Bayrin; the palace where he had grown up with Orin and Mori.

Gone. All is gone.

He looked back up at Solina. "Where is Mori? Where is my sister?"

Something crossed Solina's eyes, the flicker of deep fire. Her voice hardened. "I spared her life. I did not kill her. She lives, Elethor. She lives. She will be allowed to live in our realm."

Yet there was no warmth to her voice; the shadow of her rage now filled it. He looked into her eyes and saw the madness there. The old Solina still lurked inside her, crying out to him—the Solina he had loved for years, the Solina whom he still loved, even now. But that fire burned now across her soul, the fire that had burned her body and twisted her mind, that perhaps had always simmered deep within her. He could not rid her of it, he knew. He could not undo her deeds, could not cleanse her of her crimes.

A peace settled upon him then, and the starlight warmed him. He knew, perhaps for the first time, that she was gone from him; like never before, he knew that Solina—his Solina, the one he had loved—had fallen too, as ruined as the city below them.

"I will not join you in your desert court," he said. "You may fight me; you may try to chain me. I will die fighting you above the earth of my home, in the light of my stars." He smiled softly. "It will be a good death."

Solina stared at him a moment longer, silent. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Elethor," she whispered.

Lightning flared and thunder boomed.

Solina screamed.

She drove her wyvern toward him.

Elethor spread his wings and bathed her with fire.

She screamed. The fire flowed across her. He shot forward and his claws lashed. She swung her sword; the steel sliced his claw. He tried to bite her, to crush her between his teeth. Her wyvern swooped. Elethor followed, lashed his tail, and tossed Solina from her saddle.

She tumbled.

Her hair burned.

"Elethor!" she screamed, falling into darkness. "I carried your child, Elethor!"

She laughed and wept, hair blazing, arms reaching out toward him. Elethor inhaled sharply and dived after her, eyes narrowed.

"Solina!"

She laughed as she fell through cloud and rain, hair alight.

"I carried your child when Orin burned me!" she shouted, tears streaming. "I lost the babe in his fire. The kingdom you fight for, the family you love—they murdered your child!"

He reached out his claws.

He tried to grab her.

Stars of Requiem, stars, no. Please, stars, no.

He screamed, diving as fast as he could. He stretched out his claws. He grazed her fingertips. Screaming and laughing, her hair crackling like a torch, she vanished into cloud and rain

"Solina!" he howled and roared fire.

Stars, our child... stars, no.

He roared for her, voice torn, like he had called for her eight years ago from the walls of his city.

"Solina!"

He dived through the storm. Rain pounded his face. A lightning bolt slammed down by him. Wyverns rose from darkness and crashed into him. He tumbled. Scales flashed.

"Solina!"

My child.

"Elethor!"

The voice rose below, muffled and distant. A bolt of lightning slammed against a wyvern's rider and exploded. Fire burst. The beasts screeched. Elethor drove upward and through them.

The distant voice cried again. "Mori! Mori, where are you? Elethor!"

Lyana!

Elethor howled. He flamed two wyverns, clawed a third, and drove through the storm. Wind pushed against him, and rain lashed him, but he kept flying. He wanted to seek Solina, to dive through the clouds, to slay her if she still lived—but Lyana needed him.

"Lyana!" he shouted into the storm.

Lyana—his betrothed. Lyana—of steel and fire. Lyana—of red hair that would never fall the way she wanted; of green eyes that would mock him one moment and love him the next; of wisdom and strength, of softness and joy. A knight. A betrothed. A woman who had walked with him to the Abyss and back. She cried to him now. Let me seek her now. Let Solina go.

"Lyana!" he cried again. The wyverns streamed around him. "Lyana!"

Her voice called from the distance. "Elethor! Stars, Elethor, where are you?"

He dived lower. When he emerged from the clouds into rain and smoke, he cried out to her, and she answered his call, and he flew over ruin, over fallen walls, over charred forests. He saw blue scales ahead and he drove toward her, eyes stinging.

She flew and all but crashed against him. A green dragon emerged from shadows by them, the rain washing blood from his body: Bayrin.

Wyverns swarmed upon them. The three dragons blew fire, holding them back. A stream of acid fell, and they scattered, blew more flames at the beasts, and regrouped.

"Lyana, where's Mori?" Elethor demanded. Spears rained, and one lashed across his shoulder.

"We thought she was with you!" she said.

With a chill, Solina's words returned to him. She lives, Elethor. She lives.

More wyverns emerged from the clouds. Elethor cursed. He flapped his wings and soared back into the cloud cover. Bayrin and Lyana flew by his side, blowing fire at the wyverns.

"Bayrin, fly north!" Elethor shouted. "Lyana, fly east! I go south. We must find Mori."

A wyvern shot between them, showering acid. They scattered and Bayrin slew the beast with claw and fang.

When it fell, the green dragon cried, "And what then, El? The whole bloody kingdom is burning!"

Acid rained. They rose higher in the clouds. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

Stars, she was carrying my child...

"When the sun sets again, fly to Sequestra Mountains!" he shouted. "If you find Mori, bring her there. Now go! Find her, Bayrin!"

The green dragon cursed. His wings were charred and his scales bloody, but still he blasted fire. He turned and began flying north, calling her name.

Lyana remained at Elethor's side. Acid had spilled down her left flank, withering the scales. She stared at Elethor, her eyes haunted. She hovered before him.

"Oh, El," she said softly.

He growled. A lightning bolt crashed, illuminating a sky full of wyverns; thousands still flew.

"Go, Lyana!" he shouted. "Fly east! Fly now!"

She looked ready to weep. Her eyes watered. A howl left her throat. Her fire blazed. She spun around, roaring Requiem's call, and flew into the east. Soon she vanished into the clouds, wyverns in pursuit.

Stars, Mori, where are you?

He roared her name. He flew south. The fury of Tiranor flowed around him, and the bodies of his people littered the farmlands below.