A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) (2 page)

The old man peeked between his
fingers. "You... you are..." He voice dropped to a
whisper. "You are Vir Requis?"

"I am Kaelyn Cadigus of
Requiem. I fight for the Resistance, a band of Vir Requis who hate
the tyrant and seek to dethrone him. We're your allies, my friend.
Will you come with me to meet our leader? Will you help us, and will
you let us help you?"

He lowered his arms. His eyes
lit with fire, and anger twisted his face. His hair stuck out, white
and wild.

"The tyrant burned Bantis's
land," he said. "The tyrant slew Bantis's brothers. Show
me your army, dragon. And then... then Bantis will help you."

 
 
TILLA

They stood atop Tarath Imperium,
a princess and a soldier, and gazed upon a dark empire.

From here upon the tower, a
thousand feet above the world, Tilla could see for many leagues. The
city of Nova Vita spread below like a breaking wheel, the tower
rising from its center, its boulevards like spokes. Between the
streets stood houses and shops, countless buildings of brick, their
roofs white with snow. The great Castra Draco rose to the south, a
castle with four towers, the heart of the Legions. The twisting,
black Castra Academia rose in the east, the school that had broken
and remolded her into a commander. The arena where prisoners died,
the smithies where steel rang, and the monolithic statues of Frey
Cadigus—they all seemed so small from here, toys Tilla could lift
and break.

But
it's Rune I will break,
she
thought.
The empire
seems small from here, but it is mighty. And Rune will serve it.

At her side, Princess Shari
Cadigus spoke.

"Has he confessed his
sins?" She snarled into the wind, eyes blazing. "You've
had a full moon with him, Tilla Siren. Have you broken him yet?"

A gust of snowy wind whipped
Tilla's hair, pinched her cheeks, and stung her eyes. Tilla was a
child of the south, of warm Cadport with its mild winters and sea
breezes to scatter any snow clouds. Here in the north, in the
capital, there was snow and ice and biting winds like blades. Tilla
wore steel plates over wool, not enough to warm her, but she was a
soldier of Requiem; she buried cold, pain, and weakness deep within
her.

The
emperor's daughter does not shiver in this wind,
she thought.
Nor will
I.

"I need more time,
Commander." Tilla clutched her sword, seeking comfort from the
well-worn leather grip. "He is still shocked, hurt, and
confused. He will worship our glory. I will sway him."

Shari spun toward her, teeth
bared. Tilla was a tall woman, but Shari loomed above her, a beast
of black steel, wild dark hair, and eyes like forge fires. Her
pauldrons flared out, and her gloved hands clutched the dagger and
hammer that hung upon her belt.

"Your words are useless,
Siren," the princess said. "I will make him confess his
sins. I will have him beg to praise us." She drew her weapons,
raising hammer and blade. "I will begin by cutting off his
nails, then his fingers, then his manhood. I will proceed to hammer
his bones, shattering one at a time, until all are broken. I will
flay his skin and pull out his bowels as he watches. I will laugh as
he begs for death. And I will drag him here to this tower, stand him
above the empire, and make him scream his loyalty. I will make him
praise the red spiral so the entire empire hears."

Shari's eyes flashed with
bloodlust. She licked her lips and her chest rose and fell.

Rune
tore off her wing,
Tilla remembered.
She
beat him bloody the day he arrived here, but that only whet her
appetite. She could never hurt him enough.

"Commander," Tilla
said and lowered her head, knowing she must speak carefully. "I
know Relesar. We grew up together. Please give me more time, and I
can sway him. If the empire sees a beaten, flayed, mutilated wreck
hailing the red spiral, it would instill only rage in their hearts.
The Resistance would gain more power. More would rise up against
us." She dared to meet Shari's eyes. "But if Relesar
stands here tall and unhurt, and he proudly shouts out his
allegiance, the empire will see that even the heir of Aeternum
worships our glory. The Resistance will lose all legitimacy. Their
fire will disperse."

Shari snorted. "Yes, I've
heard of your little plan, Lanse. My father told me. You begged him
too for this pup's safety. He agreed with you then, I know it. The
man is a fool." Shari reached out, grabbed Tilla's arm, and
thrust her face so close their noses almost touched. "But I am
not. I see what you're doing, Siren. You still care for the boy.
You try to protect him. But you cannot protect him from me."

Tilla stared back, daring not
look away; looking away would show weakness. Shari was stronger,
older, and certainly higher-ranking than her, but if Tilla wanted to
save Rune, she had to hold her ground.

"Care for him? Protect
him? Commander, he slew my comrades in Castra Luna." Tilla
allowed herself a snarl. "He cowered in my city, letting us
destroy it. I survived nine moons of training to become an officer.
I fought at Luna and in Cadport. I slew men for the red spiral, and
I watched my own men die." She slammed her fist against her
chest. "I hail the red spiral! I wear that spiral upon my
shoulders. I worship our cause with every fiber of my being, and
Relesar is an enemy of that cause. He will be our greatest champion.
Protect him? No, Commander. I care not to protect him. I want him
to fight for us—not cower for us, not bleed for us, not scream and
weep—but
join
us. That will be our greatest triumph—not to torture him, but to
turn him against Valien."

As she spoke these words,
staring firmly into her commander's eyes, Tilla's insides shook. Did
she speak truth or lie? Did she still love Rune, or did she only
love the red spiral? Did she truly want him as a champion, or was
Shari right—was Tilla just trying to save an old friend?

I
don't know,
she
thought, her throat tight.
He
was my childhood friend and then the man I loved. Who is he now?

Tilla swallowed, looked inward
at her fraying soul, and saw the answer. She knew why she had to
convince Rune to join them.

Because
I am torn between my past and my present. Because I am torn between
Rune and the red spiral. Because if he joins us, I can have both,
and I will no longer feel broken.

Shari stared at her, silent,
still gripping her arm. She raised her dagger, bringing it between
their faces. Tilla sucked in her breath but refused to flinch.

"When Relesar tore off my
wing, you saved my life, Lanse," Shari said, eyes narrowed.
"For that, I will grant you more time. You have until the new
moon to sway him. And if you cannot..." Shari growled and
tilted her blade. "This steel will make him scream so loudly
the entire city will hear."

With that, Shari spun around,
marched to the tower battlements, and shifted. She took flight as a
dragon, one wing wide and blue, the other constructed of wood, rope,
and leather. With a blast of fire, she flew into the distance.

Tilla remained upon the tower.
She placed her hands against the battlements, blew out her breath,
and found herself shivering. If she could not sway Rune soon, she
suspected that blade would cut her too.

"Stars damn you, Rune,"
she whispered into the wind.

She shifted into a dragon. She
flew.

The snowy wind roared around
her. Tilla dived across Cadigus Square, a cobbled expanse larger
than all of Cadport. Leaving the palace grounds behind, she flew
over crowded streets and houses. Troops marched below and dragons
shrieked above.

A mile south of the palace, she
saw the Citadel, a crumbling edifice rising from snow.

Many years ago, this fortress
had been called Castra Murus, the barracks of the city guardians.
When Frey had established the Axehand Order, he drafted the old City
Guard into his Legions, then turned the castle into a prison. The
Citadel, they called it now—a place of pain, blood, and screams. No
more noble warriors filled its halls. Today prisoners languished in
its cellars, chained and beaten. Today blood stained the old bricks.
Today she would find Rune here.

When first bringing Rune north,
she had imprisoned him in a cell by the courtyard. When he would not
cave, she had moved him to the dungeon. She had hoped the darkness,
the echoing screams, and the smell of blood would sway him. Yet
still Rune would not hail the red spiral. And so Tilla had moved him
again. Now Rune languished in the cruelest cell this prison
contained, a place where minds had broken, where prisoners had
smashed their skulls against the wall to end the pain.

She flew above the prison
courtyard and halls, heading toward the Red Tower.

Four towers rose from the
Citadel, but the Red Tower was the most infamous. Its bricks were as
gray and craggy as the rest of the keep; it was named after the blood
that flowed within. Frey had imprisoned and tortured his greatest
enemies here. Generals loyal to the old king, lords sworn to
Aeternum, and resistors caught lurking in the city—all had
languished here.

Tilla landed in a courtyard
below the tower, shook her head to scatter her smoke, and returned to
human form. The tower guards saluted her, and Tilla stepped between
them and through the doorway. She climbed the spiraling staircase,
heading up toward him.

She climbed many steps, and her
breath was heavy when she reached the tower top. An oaken door stood
here. Tilla wore the key on a chain around her neck. With a creak,
she opened the door and stepped into the darkness.

The day was bright outside, the
sun glittering across the snow, but shadows filled this room. Two
arrowslits, vestiges of the Citadel's olden days, allowed narrow
beams of light to fall into the chamber.

One beam, which lit the western
wall, fell upon horror. A stretching rack stood here beside an iron
maiden. Smaller torture instruments hung on pegs: hammers,
thumbscrews, pliers, floggers, and a dozen other tools of mutilation.
Dried blood covered the instruments; Shari had used them many times
upon her prisoners.

The second beam, which lit the
northern wall, fell upon Rune.

Tilla released her breath and
her belly twisted.

"Rune," she whispered.

He sat against the wall, his
wrists manacled behind his back. A chain ran from the manacles to a
bracket, only a few feet long. Dirt and old bruises darkened his
skin. Shari had beaten him the first day, but she had not tortured
him yet.

I
have until the new moon,
Tilla thought.
Only
eleven days to sway him. And then Shari will pull her tools off the
wall, and when I visit Rune again, I will not recognize him.

He looked up at her between
strands of scraggly hair.

"Tilla," he said
hoarsely, lips cracked.

Chains clanking, he struggled to
stand up. He winced, still weak and haggard, then fell back down and
sat panting.

"You used to be so strong,"
Tilla said. "We'd fight with wooden swords on the beach. We'd
run and wrestle and swim and fly. Oh, Rune. It doesn't have to be
this way."

He glared up at her, chest
rising and falling, as if every breath was a struggle. Tilla stepped
toward him. Armor clanking, she sat down and leaned against him.

"It doesn't have to be this
way," Rune repeated, raspy. "You are right, Tilla. You
are right. We could have fled this place the first day. We can
still flee. You carry the key around your neck. You just need to
unchain me. There are only two guards outside. We need only break
past them and fly."

Tilla laid her head against his
shoulder, placed a hand on his thigh, and sighed. "You know I
can't do that."

Rune wriggled away as best he
could in his chains. "And you know I can't do what you ask."

She turned to look at him,
narrowed her eyes, and held his shoulder. "Why? Why, Rune?
I... Oh stars, look at you." Her eyes dampened. "It hurts
me to see you like this. Thin. Haggard. Your body bruised. I
can't see you like this, Rune, chained here. If you just hail the
red spiral, if you just join Frey, we can—"

"And it hurts me to see
you
like this," he said, and his eyes flashed. "Chains?
Bruises? They are nothing compared to what I see. I see a girl from
Lynport, a friend, a kind woman clad in black steel, bearing the
sigil of evil. I see a roper's daughter, a woman I love, serving a
beast and wielding his weapons and—"

"I serve Requiem!" she
said, her turn to interrupt. "Frey is a beast? Yes, Rune.
Frey is evil? Perhaps. But we cannot save the world. We cannot
defeat him. So we must serve him, and we must serve Requiem. Rune,
please. None of this should have happened. None of it! If you
hadn't joined the Resistance, Castra Luna would still stand, and our
friends would still live—Mae Baker and all the others. Cadport—and
yes, I still call it Cadport—would still stand." She dug her
fingers into his shoulders, hurting him but not caring. "But
you fought against Requiem. You killed thousands. You lured the
Legions to our city, and you watched that city burn, and now everyone
from our home is dead. Everyone we grew up with. Everyone we ever
knew. Dead, Rune. Dead because of you."

"Not because of me!"
He shouted now. "I fought for our city. I fought for our
kingdom. I fought for you, Tilla. I fought to save you from him,
and now... now you imprison me here, and you ask me to praise your
lord? To praise the man who burned our city?"

"I ask you to live!"
she said. "I ask you to... to avoid that wall." She
gestured at the western wall where the torture instruments hung.
"She will torture you, Rune. You do not know what she can do.
She will dislocate your bones. She will cut off your manhood and
force you to watch her burn it. She will flay your skin, remove your
organs, and make you scream for the red spiral. She's done this to
enemies before. You've been in this chamber for long days. You've
studied her instruments. Why do you still refuse to join us?"