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

Rune closed his eyes and his
face paled. He shook his head.

"You won't let them do
that," he whispered. "I have to believe, Tilla. I still
believe in you. You will not let them do that."

"I cannot stop them. Only
you can."

He opened his eyes and looked at
her.

"Tilla," he said, "do
you remember our last night in Lynport? Not the battle. The night
before you joined the Legions."

Her throat constricted. Her
eyes dampened, and she blinked and clenched her fists.

"I remember," she
whispered.

"We can find another
beach," he said. "We can flee to distant lands together,
to unexplored countries, or to the deserts across the sea. We can be
together again. Not in this place. Not here in this cruel city. We
can be like we were."

Tilla tasted a tear on her lips,
and she hated herself for it, and she hated Rune for making her cry.
She had not shed tears for moons in Castra Academia as her tormentors
burned her, but she cried here.

"Those days are gone."
She held his shoulders, knelt above him, and stared into his eyes.
"They are gone, Rune. They are over. You cannot flee Frey; his
arm is too long. You cannot fight him; he is too strong. But we can
be together here. We can serve him together, two soldiers for his
cause."

He shook his head. "Never.
I will never serve him, and I will not watch you serve him."

She pulled his hair back from
his brow and found herself caressing it. She leaned forward, kissed
his cheek, and whispered into his ear.

"Please. Please, if you
have any love for me, if our memories together mean anything to
you... do as I say. Worship him. Save yourself."

She rose to leave. She walked
toward the door, tears in her eyes.

His voice rose behind her. "I
surrendered myself to save the last people of Lynport... but also to
save you, Tilla. Also to save you."

She could not bear to turn and
look at him. Her tears streamed down her cheeks. She left the
chamber, closed the door behind her, and bit her lip until she tasted
blood.

 
 
VALIEN

He stood upon the beach, watching
the old man caw, run in circles, and plead for his life.

"Calm yourself, friend!"
Valien said. "We won't harm you."

The old man wore but a loincloth
and a belt strung with his prosthetic hands. His eyes bulged with
fear. He tugged at his long white hair, and his chest, frail enough
to reveal his ribs, rose and fell as he panted.

"You... you are Vir
Requis!" he said, voice high and quavering like a bird's call.
"You burn us. You burn my home! You burn Tiranor. But Bantis
will fight you. Bantis invents. Bantis booms things. Big weapon.
Bantis dig for it. Bantis kill you all!"

With that, he resumed running in
circles. He raced toward his beached raft, an old thing of rotten
wood and rope. When he saw the two resistors who stood nearby, he
turned the other way and ran, nearly slamming himself against two
more. He fell into the sand, leaped up, and began to wave his arms
like a man trying to shoo away squirrels.

Standing at Valien's side,
Kaelyn sighed.

"He was like this when I
found him," she said. "He was living on a rock he called
Genesis Isle. I think he was alone there for a very long time. But
he spoke of other survivors. I thought my father killed all Tirans,
but... Oh stars, I hope he's not the last."

Valien looked at her, and as
always—no matter how many times he gazed upon her—he felt his fear
melt under sadness. Kaelyn had always been pale, but the southern
sun had bronzed her skin. Her hair, once dark as honey, had
lightened under this sunlight into a bright gold. Instead of her
forest garb, she stood barefoot in the sand, clad in a white tunic, a
wild thing swept from the sea onto the shore, a mythical creature of
sand and sun and secrets. But her eyes were the same—hazel, soft,
and kind, the eyes that had warmed Valien through the years of war.

"He's a Tiran," he
said. "I visited Tiranor years ago. I was little older than
you are now, and I still served the old king." He looked across
the sea and inhaled deeply, remembering the scent of the southern
desert, a perfume of sand and spices. "The Tirans were a proud
people, tall and golden-skinned and blue-eyed, their hair a platinum
so pale it seemed almost white. They lived in oases where palm trees
soared, cranes sang, and limestone palaces rose into blue skies.
They spread across dunes and mountains, bringing life to the desert.
I spent a year there, an ambassador of Requiem. I still miss the
sweetness of Tiranor's wine, figs, and dates; her music of lutes and
drums; the song of her trees and birds; and mostly her people, an old
enemy of Requiem grown into a close friend." Valien returned
his eyes to Kaelyn and his voice soured. "Frey Cadigus burned
that land and slaughtered those people, his revenge for a war seven
hundred years ago. He burned the oases. He butchered mothers and
babes. He toppled temples and slew every Tiran he found. I thought
they had all died. And here we have this one... a survivor."

Bantis was crouched in the sand,
hopping like a frog. Hearing Valien's last sentence, he looked up
and tilted his head like an inquisitive owl.

"Survivor?" he said,
hopping around on his hands. "Yes, yes, Bantis survived!
Others too. Army! Army like this one, yes." He gestured at
the resistors who covered the beach and hills of the island.

Valien looked around him and
sighed.

Army?
he thought. No,
this was no army. These were but ragged survivors too.

The island was small, no larger
than the city of Lynport back in Requiem. Valien had named it
Horsehead Island due to its shape. Perhaps it had no true name; it
did not appear in the maps of Requiem. Located a three-day flight
from the empire's southeastern shore, it housed the remains of his
Resistance. Three thousand men and women lived here in huts, caves,
or simply upon the beach. Their clothes were ragged and their
weapons dulled, but their eyes still shone. Some of these resistors
had been following Valien for years—they had hidden with him in the
ruins of Confutatis, fought with him at Castra Luna, and crawled with
him through tunnels in Lynport. Others had just recently joined his
command—some were men of Cain's Canyon, outcast from Requiem after
fighting Frey, and others had once followed the outlaw Leresy
Cadigus. They walked across the beach, moved between the huts, and
climbed the hills, haggard and long of hair and tanned of skin. An
army? Valien did not know.

Maybe
we're little better than old Bantis,
he thought.

A voice rose behind him, twisted
with contempt.

"I say we put the old
bugger out of his misery."

He turned to see Leresy walking
across the beach, a smirk on his face.

Valien growled. "And since
when did anyone care what you say, boy?"

The young, outcast prince
ignored him. Strutting as if he still wore finery rather than sandy
rags, Leresy approached the old Tiran. He sniffed and wrinkled his
nose.

"Stars above, the old man
stinks," he said. He lifted a stick and jabbed Bantis with it.
"All scrawny too, ribs showing and all. I say we put him down.
He's no use to us."

Bantis seemed to find his
courage. He snapped his teeth at Leresy, shoved the stick aside, and
barked like an enraged dog.

"Scrawny?" the old man
demanded. "No use? Bantis has many uses. Bantis is an
inventor. Bantis invented hand cannons. Bantis invented glass eyes
that can see far. Bantis is digging—digging for big weapon.
Genesis Isle is little, but
big
weapon is there. Weapon to slay dragons." He puffed out his
chest. "Bantis smells like gunpowder; he no
stinks
."

With a grumble, Valien trudged
forward, shoved Leresy aside, and stared at the wild-haired old man.

"Bantis, you said there are
others," Valien said. "Where are they? Did other Tirans
survive?"

"Oh yes, oh yes!"
Bantis said and resumed hopping, spinning around, and kicking sand.
"Many others survived. They live on Maiden Island. Big island,
it is, big like this one. But they banished poor Bantis. All
because Bantis loves explosives. Poor poor Bantis. He built them
hand cannons and fireballs and lots of things that go
boom
!
And poor Bantis now lives alone."

Valien looked up and met
Kaelyn's gaze. She nodded and he returned his eyes to the old man.

"Bantis, will you show us
there? Will you lead us to the others?"

The old man's eyes widened. He
tugged at his long, white hair and bounced about in circles like a
monkey on a leash, slapping the sand.

"Take you there? Yes, yes.
Bantis take you to the others. Bantis trusts you. Follow! Follow.
We go to their island. But not as dragons, no! Shoot you they
will. Kill you with my inventions." He hopped toward his raft,
which lay upon the shore. "We oar our way there, yes."

He detached his shovel
prosthetic, slung it from his belt, and lifted an oar from the raft.
He attached the oar to his stub, grinned, and looked at Valien
eagerly like a dog begging for a walk.

"Follow, follow! Bantis
take you." He began to paddle the raft through the sand,
seemingly unaware that it wasn't moving. "Follow!"

Valien sighed and looked at
Kaelyn. She gave him a grin, her teeth bright white against her
tanned face. She hefted her bow across her shoulder and gripped her
sword.

"Ready for another
adventure?" she asked.

Valien's heart twisted again.
Her golden hair, her blue eyes, her smile that spoke of all the fire,
blood, and rain they'd flown through—every time they hurt him.

"Never and always," he
answered.

He gave a few orders to his men,
then began pushing the raft toward the sea. Kaelyn pushed at his
side. Scrawny Bantis stood upon the raft, rowing as if he himself
were moving the vessel. He whooped as it splashed into the waves.

Valien and Kaelyn waded through
the water, pushing the raft deeper. Waves rose and fell. Bantis
kept oaring upon the raft, but the waves grew larger, splashing and
shoving the raft back toward the shore.

With a grumble, Valien shifted
into a dragon.

He flattened himself so his
belly grazed the sea floor, and his nostrils rose above the water.
He beat his tail, driving forward and pushing the raft.

"Bantis oars fast!"
Bantis said upon the raft, his oar barely even skimming the water.
"No waves can stop old Bantis."

Valien rolled his eyes, snorted
smoke, and kept shoving the raft. The waves crashed against them.
The raft rose and fell violently, almost flipping over. Still in
human form, Kaelyn climbed onto the vessel and crouched low. She
pulled Bantis down beside her.

"Hold on tight while you
oar, friend," she said. She looked back at Valien and winked.

The waves grew larger and
larger, crashing against them. The last one would have overturned
the raft had Valien, swimming behind, not held tight with his claws.
Past the last breaker, he shifted back into human form, climbed onto
the raft, and shook water from his hair.

"Poor poor Valien,"
said Bantis, looking at him in concern. "Waves were too strong
for you. You fell overboard. It's okay, Bantis steered us through."

Valien grunted, spat overboard,
and watched Horsehead Island dwindle behind them. A single, orphaned
archway rose upon its peak, green with ivy. Three columns, the
vestiges of an ancient temple, still stood upon its shore; twenty
other columns lay fallen around them. Resistors moved across the
beach, between the trees, and upon the hilltops.

It was not a bad life. Valien
could stay there, lead his men, and find a new life with Kaelyn. A
life of sunlight. Of peace. Of trees and whispering waves and no
more war, no more fire or blood.

He gritted his teeth. But no.
They'd been living here for a moon now. The time would come for them
to fly again. To fight. To bleed.

Valien lowered his head and
thought of Rune.

I
will not forget you, Rune. I will not leave you to a life of torture
and darkness.

He had known Rune since the
boy's birth. He had fought at his side, bled with him, killed with
him. Rune had become more than just the hope of Requiem.

He
is like my son,
Valien
thought.
He is like
the son Marilion and I never had.

"And I will save you,"
he rasped, voice too low for the others to hear.

The island grew smaller and
smaller behind them, and Bantis began to sing and dance as he rowed,
surefooted even upon the swaying raft.

He oared for a long time.

They traveled south until
Horsehead Island dwindled to but a green smudge upon the horizon.
The sun dipped into afternoon, casting silver light upon the sea.
The water spread across all horizons, deep green and blue. Fish
leaped every few moments, and a pod of dolphins swam in the distance.

Kaelyn leaned against Valien.
"The sea seems endless," she whispered. "There is no
pain here. No people to lead. No wars to fight. I can imagine that
the whole world is like this. Blue and quiet and... simple."
She looked up at him. "I wish he were with us. I wish he could
see this water too."

Valien placed an arm around her.
"They will not kill him. He's worth more to them alive."

A tear streamed down her cheek,
and she closed her eyes. "That's what I fear. Those are the
nightmares that fill me, even here, surrounded by this peace.
Because I know, Valien... I know that death would be a kindness to
him now. I can't even imagine what—"

Valien growled. He pulled
Kaelyn's face up toward his. She opened her eyes and he glared at
her.