A Night of Dragon Wings

MORI



Mori stood upon the fortress walls, watching winter's first snow fall.

The flakes swirled, glided, and coated the forest below. The trees spread into the distance: young pines, birches, and maples rising from memories of war. Icicles hung from their branches, and the snow soon covered the forest floor, a glittering carpet like fields of stars in a white sky. All around Castellum Luna, this small southern outpost, the snow and light of winter rolled into the horizons.

Mori took a deep breath of the cold air. The wind kissed her cheeks, billowed her hair, and sneaked into her cloak. She looked down at her hands and caressed her luck finger, the sixth finger on her left hand.

You've always brought me luck, she thought. You've always helped me.

She placed her hands upon the battlements and looked back into the southern horizon, watching the snow glide down and coat the trees. It was four years to the day since she had stood here, a frightened young girl, and watched the first phoenix rise from the south.

I was so afraid then, Mori remembered. Everything scared me: the creak of armor, the rustle of leaves, and the wilderness that rolls on forever like a sea.

And now… who was she now? No longer a youth. No longer so afraid, perhaps. Four years ago, she had come to Castellum Luna as a frightened girl, and here her world had burned around her. Now she stood here as a woman, older, stronger, a lady of this fort. She ruled Castellum Luna now.

"And I will not let these walls fall again," she whispered. "I will be the eyes of Requiem and her long arm in the wilderness."

She held her luck finger and thought of Orin. He had stood here upon these walls four years ago and fallen.

I will stand here every winter, Mori thought, and I will remember you.

Footfalls sounded behind her, and Mori turned to see Bayrin climbing the stairs from the courtyard. She smiled down at him, and he joined her upon the walls. In his arms he carried their little bundle wrapped in furs. Mori felt her heart melt like butter over hot bread. She took her daughter from her husband's arms, held the child close, and kissed her forehead.

"Good morning, Treale," she whispered.

The babe reached out and touched her cheek and smiled. She was a child of pale skin, red hair, and large gray eyes. Mori thought her the most beautiful child in the world.

"I swear," Bayrin said, "I've never seen a babe go through so many swaddling clothes. We're going to need a whole castle's worth of them delivered down here. Does Lyana's baby soil himself this much too?"

Mori cooed at the child. "Don't listen to him, Treale." She kissed the babe. "If he complains some more, bite him."

Silently, she added words she would not speak aloud.

May you never know loss, my child, she thought, holding Treale close. May you never know war. May you grow in a world of peace, knowledge, and light. May your soul never be broken like mine.

She looked toward the southern horizon. Four years ago the flame of Tiranor had risen here. They had tortured and killed her brother within these walls. They had raped her by his corpse as she screamed. They had flown north from this fortress until they reached her city, and they toppled it.

Mori closed her burning eyes.

How do I go on? she thought. How can I be a mother to Treale when still the nightmares fill my every night, when still the pain clutches me and does not let go, when still the loss pounds through me?

She blinked and looked south through her tears. She knew the answer. She knew that this pain would never leave her: the pain of those she had lost, of her shattered innocence, of her captivity in Tiranor. Those memories would always haunt her. Those scars would forever clutch her soul, and many years from now, she would still wake up in darkness, afraid and trembling and back underground in chains.

Some scars do not heal, Mori knew. Some memories do not leave us. Some hurts are too great; they will forever be within me.

She looked at her child, an innocent babe. Treale reached out toward her, fingers grasping, lips smiling. And Mori smiled back.

But I have Treale, she thought. And I have my husband, Bayrin. Her tears fell. And I have some light in my life. Stars of Requiem—let whatever light still shines upon me, and whatever joy still fills me, be a beacon for my daughter. I will raise her in your light, and may she never know the pain I feel.

Bayrin placed an arm around her and held her close. Mori hugged her daughter to her breast, and they stood together on the wall, watching the snow fall.


THE END


AFTERWORD

Well, here we are. The long road has ended; another story is told. Thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey.

The Dragonlore trilogy is complete, but there are other Requiem stories.

If you haven't done so already, you can read my earlier Requiem trilogy, Song of Dragons. Set three hundred years before Dragonlore, the Song of Dragons trilogy features an earlier generation of Vir Requis.

There will also be future Requiem novels. I'm currently working on a new series set in Requiem; I hope to release its first volume in 2013. I post updates on Facebook and Twitter, and you can also join my mailing list at DanielArenson.com.

And remember: To help spread the word, please tell your friends about these novels, and please leave a review online. These books could not exist without your support.

Thank you again, dear reader. I'm humbled and grateful that you've chosen to share these stories with me. I hope we meet again between the pages of another book.

Daniel, 2013