A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) (11 page)

Leresy frowned. "What the
Abyss are those things?"

Erry grinned, remembering the
paintings Rune had kept hidden under his floorboards. "They're
ships. Tirans use them to navigate the seas."

Leresy guffawed. "Those
things? Primitive. I'd take flying any day."

Erry glared at him. "Is it
hard work being such a horse's arse, or does it come naturally to
you? Tirans can't fly, and I think their ships are beautiful."

She stood a moment, admiring
them. Six ships floated in the cove, their sails folded upon their
masts. From bow to stern, they looked longer than the greatest
dragon from snout to tail's tip. Cannons lined their decks, and
their figureheads were shaped as birds. Their hulls sported
sunbursts, the paint faded to dull ocher, and beneath them appeared
words Erry could now read.

"We will never fall,"
she whispered.

Miya
nodded. "See the largest ship, the one with the crane
figurehead? That's the
Golden
Crane
,
our flagship. My father is captain. Our council will be held
there."

They
walked downhill, heading to the cove. A small oared boat waited at a
dock, and they climbed in. As they rowed, Erry stared up at the
Golden
Crane
,
clutched her medallion, and felt peace flow across her. Leresy be
damned, this ship was beautiful. It was not merely a vessel, she
thought, but a symbol of a better time. It was Tiranor in her golden
age, navigating the seas, a proud desert kingdom of spice, song, and
secrets. It was Lynport before the Regime, a thriving port town,
welcoming such ships to its docks.

Long
ago, these ships would sail into Lynport,
Erry thought. They had brought southern silk, spice, and gems. The
boardwalk had been alive then, not a ruin of rotten wood and urchins
rifling through trash, but a hub of trade. Rune's father would sell
his ale to these sailors, and Tilla's father would sell his ropes,
and Mae's father would sell bread.

And
my mother sold her body,
Erry thought.
I
come from these ships. They brought me too into Requiem.

When
they climbed onto the deck, she saw Valien and Kaelyn already there.
They had shed their charred, torn leather and wool—the clothes they
had fled Lynport with—and wore tunics of
maidenspun
,
a fabric the Tirans wove from wild cotton. They still bore their
swords of Requiem. A heavy, two-handed sword hung across Valien's
back, an ancestral weapon of House Eleison. Kaelyn wore Lemuria upon
her hip, her thin sword of dragonforged steel. They were ancient
blades, weapons of honor and history and tradition.

Yet
honor, history, and tradition are passing from the world,
Erry thought. She looked at a rack of hand cannons that lay against
the bulwark—
arquebuses
,
she had heard the Tirans call them.
Our
blades will rust; gunpowder will rise, a demon of greater malice.

"Welcome
to the
Golden
Crane
.
Welcome to my council."

Erry turned toward the voice.
She saw a man emerging from the ship's hold. He was tall and
wide—as large as Valien—and almost as gruff. His face was wide,
leathery, and golden, his nose flat and his jaw heavy. Stubbly
platinum hair covered his scalp, cut so short he was almost bald.
Grooves lined his face; Erry couldn't tell if they were wrinkles or
scars. He wore maidenspun, a wide belt, and baggy pants—simple
garb, yet he moved with the aura of command.

Miya approached the man, kissed
his cheek, and introduced him.

"This is my father, Captain
Sila. Father, this is Leresy Cadigus, the outcast prince of Requiem,
son of Emperor Frey. His companion is Erry Docker, once a soldier in
the Legions. Both now fight for Valien."

"
With
Valien," Leresy corrected, raised his chin, and cleared his
throat. "I serve no man."

Erry jabbed him with her elbow,
glowered, and hissed from the corner of her mouth. "Quiet,
Leresy. Nobody cares about your stupid pride."

Under the noon sun, pelicans
flying overhead and the ship gently rocking, the council began.

Valien spoke the most, straining
to hiss the words through his ruined throat, but never slowing his
speech. He spoke of battles they'd fought: the Battle of Castra
Luna, where Erry had flown in the Black Rose Phalanx, fighting
against the Resistance; and the Battle for Lynport, where Erry had
fought on the other side. And he spoke of older battles too, battles
that had raged in the north years ago, back when Erry had still lived
upon the docks. And he spoke of future battles: of his plans to
storm the capital of Nova Vita, to surround Frey in his palace, and
to slay the man.

Sila
spoke too, gruff captain of the
Golden
Crane
,
and Erry learned that he not only ruled this ship, but all the
island. He spoke of leading a merchant fleet years ago, of fighting
the Legions when they had invaded his homeland, and of fleeing
burning Tiranor with all those he could load onto his ship.

"We've trained for battle,"
Sila said. "My father invented the arquebus, and we've forged
two thousand of the guns here on this island, melting down everything
from swords to belt buckles for the metal. I've drilled an army of
men and women. We know how to fight." He grumbled. "Yet
we've only trained to fight off dragons should they attack our
island. We've never dreamed of invading Requiem, let alone her
capital. How would we? We are only a few. The Legions are half a
million strong, they say."

Valien nodded. "We are few
and they are many. Yet now we have new weapons. Now we have hope.
Leresy!" He turned toward the former prince. "Show him
the scope."

The
young man nodded, rummaged through his pack, and produced one of the
leather magnifying cylinders; Erry had learned the Tirans called them
scopes
.
It rattled, still full of the glowing crystal shards they had found.

"Erry, go on, fly around a
bit," Leresy said.

She placed her hands on her
hips. "I'm not doing it again. Just tell them how it works."

"Bloody griffin vomit,
Erry, they need to see it." Leresy scowled. "Just fly
around, for stars' sake. It won't kill you."

Erry gave the loudest, longest
groan of her life. Eyes rolling, she jumped off the ship, shifted
into a dragon, and flew.

The beating of her wings blasted
the hull, rocking the ship. She flew in circles, scales clattering,
and blew fire upward—just to impress them a little more. She rose
higher, roared to the sky, and swooped toward the ship, claws
outstretched, feigning an attack.

Upon the deck, Leresy—still in
human form—pointed the scope at her, then unscrewed the wooden lid.

The gems inside glowed. Their
light blasted out from the lens, drenching Erry.

Like a tugged tablecloth, her
magic vanished.

Erry returned to human form,
fell through the air, and crashed into the water.

She sputtered, cursed, and swam
back to the ship. When she stood back upon the deck, she shook
herself wildly like a dog, spraying water onto the others.

"That," Leresy said,
"is how we fight the Legions. I've got four scopes full of
these shards. We fly to Requiem. My father's dragons will drop from
the sky like dead flies." He nodded. "I've called my
weapons Leresy Scopes. They will win me the throne."

The others began to growl and
roll their eyes. Before they could object too much, however, a high
voice rose above them.

"Big weapon! Big weapon is
no Leresy Scope. Genesis Shards they are, yes. Bantis knows them!"

Erry looked up and raised her
eyebrows. Crazy old Bantis, still clad in only a loincloth, perched
upon a mast. His white hair billowed in the breeze and he laughed.
Fast as a monkey, he scurried down the mast, landed upon the deck,
and danced a jig.

"Grandpapa!" Miya
said. "Have you been up there all along?"

The old man grinned. "You
cannot hold councils without Old Bantis, no. Foolish boy, give me
that." He reached toward Leresy, grabbed the scope full of
shards, and began tugging, struggling to free it from the younger
man's grip. "Mine. Mine!"

Leresy growled and held the
scope firmly.

"Leresy, let him have it!"
Erry said and kicked his shin.

The prince yelped, his grip
loosened, and Bantis scurried back with his prize.

"These are Genesis Shards,"
the old man repeated. "Yes, that is their name. Bantis has
been seeking them for many years, yes. They have languished
underground for a thousand years. Dragons buried them! They did not
want them found, no." He cackled. "Yet now Bantis has big
weapon. Kills dragons!"

Leresy rubbed his shin. "Bloody
Abyss. Why are they called Genesis Shards?"

Bantis
hopped around on one leg, cawed like a bird, then smiled
mischievously. "Created all life, they did. Ten thousand years
ago, the gods created Animating Stones,
big
gems—big like chicken eggs!—that raised dust, earth, and water into
men and beasts. Created us Tirans too, they did." He laughed,
head tossed back. "Powerful magic, yes. Powerful enough to
raise matter into life. Powerful enough to cancel out all other
magic around them. Even the magic to become dragons." He
winked. "The old Vir Requis found the gems a thousand years
ago. They feared them. They broke them into tiny shards. They can
no longer create life, no, not broken like this." He laughed
and gave a quick dance. "But they can still cancel dragon
magic. So they buried the shards. Buried them deep in a distant
island. But Old Bantis found them! Old Bantis will take them to
Requiem. And dragons will fall from the sky!"

Bantis himself fell onto his
back, arms and legs splayed out, imitating a fallen dragon. He lay
upon the deck, grinning.

Leresy
began to pout and object, shouting that
he
had found the shards, and that they
were
called Leresy Shards. Kaelyn, Erry, and even Miya began to shout him
down—and soon to kick him. Sila howled at everyone to be silent,
and Bantis kept laughing. The council collapsed into chaos, and soon
everyone was yelling above the others.

Only Valien stood silent,
staring across the water, lost in thought. After a long moment, he
nodded and spoke, but his voice drowned under the shouting.

"All of you, be quiet!"
Erry howled, hopping up and down. "Valien is talking. Let him
be heard!"

When finally everyone was
silent, Valien stared at them one by one, then spoke again.

"We've fled here to these
islands, two camps of refugees. On Horsehead Island, three thousand
Vir Requis dream of reclaiming their homeland. Here upon Maiden
Island, four thousand Tirans have found a new life, refugees from
their fallen kingdom, and they too dream. They dream of returning to
the desert, unafraid, of rebuilding their homeland without the threat
of Cadigus looming. For long years, both our camps hid and fought
separately, but we shared the same vision. We sang the same song.
We dreamed of going home."

As they listened to the speech,
Erry saw that Kaelyn and Miya had tears in their eyes. Kaelyn
dreamed of returning to Nova Vita, the capital Erry herself had never
seen. Miya dreamed of returning to Tiranor, land of her fathers, the
desert kingdom her people still yearned for.

Yet
what home do I dream of?
Erry wondered.
I
never had a home, unless the docks at Lynport were a home. If we
truly win this war, what awaits me if not more pain?

Valien continued speaking, voice
scratchy but clear, the voice of wind over sand. "For many
years, this was but a dream, a whisper of a hope. But today we found
new hope—a hope that blazes bright as a pillar of fire. We no
longer need hide. Together, with our magic and your machines, we can
defeat the Cadigus regime. We can both reclaim our homes." He
lifted a scope in one hand, an arquebus in the other. "I will
lead my people into Requiem. We will fly as dragons, roaring and
blowing fire. Upon our backs, we will bear you, noble people of
Tiranor, and you will wield your weapons. You will point the Genesis
Scopes at the Legions; they will fall from the sky. We will fly for
days, felling the armies that storm toward us, until we reach the
capital. We will storm the palace as men, firing our guns. The
Axehand Order defends the palace, and they fight with blades; we will
shoot them from a distance. We will find Relesar Aeternum, true King
of Requiem, and free him from captivity. We will find Frey Cadigus,
the usurper, and slay him." The grizzled man's eyes gleamed.
"The war will end. Fear will fade. We will return home."

The
council dispersed one by one. Leresy shifted and left first, flying
off with a puff of smoke, still muttering about how
he
had found the shards. Kaelyn followed him, a slim green dragon,
calling him a woolhead for all the island to hear. Miya left in her
boat, while Bantis opted for leaping off the hull, crashing into the
water, and swimming to shore. Valien departed with a grumble, a
silver dragon with clattering scales and one horn.

Erry remained standing on the
deck, watching the others leave. She placed her hand upon a cannon,
remembering the battles she had fought, the friends she had seen die,
and the men she'd killed. She lowered her head.

A voice spoke behind her.

"Will you not fly with your
friends, Erry of Requiem?"

She turned to see Captain Sila.
His golden, weathered face still seemed rough to her, a patch of
leather left out in the sun, but she saw softness in his eyes.

"They're not my friends,"
she said. "I'm just here because..."

Because
what?
she
wondered. Because the docks had burned? Because Tilla had turned
into a killer, little better than Shari Cadigus? Because Leresy fed
and sheltered her, or because she felt she had to heal him?