A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) (31 page)

She had begun to tiptoe away
when Tilla spoke, not turning toward her.

"It's a funny thing, isn't
it?"

Erry paused in mid-step, turned
back, and saw Tilla still staring at the statue.

"I've heard folk call Frey
a god or a monster," Erry said, "but funny is a new one."

Tilla nodded, face blank. "I
think most saw him as both, a monstrous god to worship not from love
but from fear. That's why I served him."

When Tilla turned toward her,
Erry took a step back.

No,
her face isn't blank,
she thought.
There
is deep pain there, a horror she hides under her cold mask.

"Well,
he's dead now," Erry said, still hesitant, not sure that she
wanted to be here, and the old scar on her chest burned. "So to
the Abyss with his rotten carcass, and may they dump this statue in a
cesspool."

She turned to leave, but Tilla
called out.

"Erry, wait."

With a huff, Erry spun around
and glared. "What?" Rage flared within her. "What
do you want with me? You have your statue here. Go make love to it,
or worship it, or spit on it. I don't care. I'm looking for a quiet
place of my own."

When she turned to leave again,
Tilla raced toward her, held her shoulders, and wouldn't let go.

"Erry, please. Just...
wait a moment."

"Don't touch me!" Erry
said and shoved her off.

Tilla took a step back and
nodded. "Erry, I'm sorry, all right?"

She snorted a laugh. "Easy
to be sorry now with your lord dead."

"You served in the Legions
too. We both served him." Tilla lowered her head. "That
doesn't mean he's my lord."

"Oh, we both served him,
did we?" Erry's voice rose, torn with anger. "I never
killed for him. I never collaborated with his daughter. I never..."
Her eyes burned with tears, and Erry hated herself for it. "I
never betrayed a friend."

"And I did," Tilla
said. "I did all those things. I know it. And I'm sorry. I
was... how would you say it? A horse's arse."

Erry snorted. "You were a
particularly big, smelly horse's arse."

Tilla nodded. "Fair
enough."

"With fleas."

"All right."

"And with an infected,
maggoty red spiral brand right on it. And with some ticks and—"

"All right, Erry, I get
it."

Erry
sighed, knuckled her stinging eyes, and looked at her feet. She
spoke in a low whisper. "You're my best friend, Tilla. You're
my
only
friend. You and Wobble Lips." Now her own damn lips wobbled.
"I never had any other friends." She looked up through
damp eyes. "I love you, you stinky horse's bottom."

Tilla smiled, laughed, and
pulled her into an embrace. "Love you too, you little shrimp."

Erry held her friend and felt
warm and safe. She closed her eyes, leaned her cheek against Tilla,
and thought this better than all the crowds, weddings, and
coronations in the world.

Leresy
would hold me too,
she thought. A hundred men before him would hold her like this, but
they hadn't loved her. They had all wanted her sex, or they had
wanted her to heal their souls. But this felt right. This felt
good.

"I'm moving back to
Lynport," Tilla said. "Rune is going too. A few hundred
townsfolk survived, and we're going to rebuild. Rune and I will
rebuild the Old Wheel and run it together." She held Erry at
arm's length. "Come with us. Brew ale with us or serve tables
or cook meals... just be with us. We'll run the place together, us
three."

To live with Tilla and Rune? To
have a roof over her head, regular meals, a home of her own? Warmth
filled Erry, spreading through her like sunrise over a rolling
landscape. And yet she shook her head.

"Nah, it's called the Old
Wheel, not the Third Wheel. It's not a place for me. Go and make it
a great place, Tilla. You and Rune. I know that you will. But
me... it's not a place for me."

Tilla's eyes softened. "So
where will you go? Do you have a place? Are you sure you don't want
to stay with us?"

A hesitant smile tingled Erry's
lips, soon turning into a grin. "I have a place now. I have a
home. I have a family."

The spring sun warmed the land,
leaves budded on the trees, and new light shone across Requiem.
Masons bustled in cities and villages, building new temples to the
stars. Statues of Frey fell. Knives scratched red spirals off
armor, swords, and shields. A new dawn rose for Requiem, and King
Valien ruled with light, justice, and wisdom.

"I helped save Requiem,"
Erry whispered, flying over the forests and mountains of the kingdom,
the sun bright above. "But not for me. It will never be a
warm, safe place for me."

She had suffered here too much.
Her body and soul bore too many scars. The beaches, the forests, the
city walls... they all carried too many memories, too much pain.

How
do you cleanse your memories of blood?
she
thought as she flew on the wind, the forests rolling below her, the
capital vanishing far behind.
How do you find light when so much darkness still fills you?

Erry didn't know. For so many
years, she had run from pain. She had run to her docks, into
forests, or into men's arms. Today too she was fleeing.

Yet now... now she had a good
place to fly to. Now she had somebody to fly with.

"Hey, Erry!" Miya
cried from her back, seated in a saddle. "Can't you fly any
faster?"

Erry growled over her shoulder.
Her little sister's hair flapped in the wind, and her cheeks were
pink, yet still she pointed forward, demanding more speed. Their
father sat upon the saddle too, smiling, his hard face showing rare
peace.

"Do you want to fly
instead, Miya?" Erry said.

"Not
fair. I'm a Tiran. You know Tirans can't fly. Tirans
sail
."

"So be quiet and let the
half-dragon do her work."

Tirans sail. And Erry too had
Tiran blood. She too would sail. She inhaled, already smelling the
salty air.

They flew across Requiem for
days. They left the birch forests behind, and they flew over the
great plains of Osanna. They traveled over hills, woods, and
mountains. At nights, they slept in taverns or simply under the
stars. They flew until they saw the eastern sea, the blue border of
the empire.

In a clear dawn, they descended
toward the port of Altus Mare, an ancient city. Once a place of
docks and shipyards, a great hub of merchants, the city had fallen in
the wars, its original inhabitants slain. Today a small fishing
village rose upon the ruins, home to several hundred Vir Requis, a
tanned people clothed in canvas, their faces weathered with the sea
winds.

Erry walked onto the docks,
stared out into the sea, and tapped her chin.

"Now what do we do?"
she asked her father and sister. "The islands with our ships
are a three-day flight away. I can't fly for three days straight,
not without a place to rest at night."

Her father stared into the sea,
inhaled deeply, and smiled.

"We fly back the way we
flew here," he said. "You take turns. Every few hours,
you return to human form and sleep upon another dragon. We just need
to find that other dragon."

And so they spent the night in
Altus Mare, and in the morning, they paid a young fisherman three
silver coins to fly with them. At first Erry didn't want him riding
her. His grin was too wide, his eyes too green, his curly hair too
wild. She had fallen for too many pretty boys to let another into
her life.

"Not this one," she
said, pointing at him upon the docks. "He's too young."

The boy flashed a grin. "I'm
twenty years old. I can't be much older than you." He winked.
"And I bet I can fly faster."

"You keep pretending that,"
Erry said. She turned back toward her father. "This one is
trouble. You should never have paid him silver. I would never agree
to him, had he not already pocketed the coins." She grumbled.
"I fly first. And I fly fast, so hold on to your saddle."

She shifted into dragon form.
They climbed onto her back. And she flew.

The sea rolled below them, blue
patched with green, and he would not stop taunting her, that rude boy
with the green eyes. When finally it was his turn to fly, and she
rode upon his back with Sila and Miya, she wanted to taunt him too.
But she was too tired. So she only leaned back in the saddle, closed
her eyes, and slept.

They
flew for three days and nights, and finally they saw Maiden Island
ahead, a woman rising from the sea, her hair formed of a waterfall,
her hip and waist crowned with trees. In the cove between her
curves, it waited—the
Golden
Crane
,
its masts tall, its hull emblazoned with golden sunbursts. When Erry
saw it, her eyes dampened.

My
new home.

"You're wobbling again,"
said the boy on her back. He jabbed her with his heel. "You
wobble too much when you fly."

She glared over her shoulder at
him. He was smiling his same mocking smile.

"Be quiet or I'll wobble so
much you'll fall off."

Upon
the
Golden
Crane
,
dear old Bantis—he had stayed to watch over the ship—danced a jig
and waved and whooped.

My
crazy grandfather,
Erry thought and laughed.

She flew down and landed on the
deck. When her riders dismounted, she returned to human form, placed
her hands upon the railing, and inhaled the sea air. In her mind,
she could already imagine the sails wide, the ship cutting through
the water. She could fly faster than a ship could sail, and yet...
flying was lonely. This ship was not merely a vessel; it was family
and it was home.

Her father smiled and held her
hand. Her sister and grandfather embraced her. They stood together
on the deck and Erry smiled too. This was right.

"Well," said the
green-eyed boy and stretched. "I suppose now it's back to the
village with me. Back to fishing and lying around on the beach."
He sighed theatrically. "I reckon you don't need me here, so
if you could just take me a few miles back, I'll fly the rest of the
way."

Erry groaned, jabbed his chest
with her finger, and glared at him. "If you want a job here,
pretty boy, just spit it out. Don't play your little games."

He grinned and mussed her hair.
When she shoved his hand back, he only grinned wider.

"So you want me to stay!
You'd love me to. I can see it in your eyes, little one."

They left Maiden Island, the
wind in their sails, only five souls heading into the open sea. He
was right, of course. She had wanted him to stay, that rude boy with
the taunting smile and green eyes. And their first night on the
waters, when her family slept, Erry was tempted again. It would be
so easy! She could sneak into his hammock, doff her clothes, and let
him bed her. She would look into his eyes, press her body against
his, and she would feel warm, feel a respite from the chill that
always filled her.

But no. Not this time. She let
him sleep, climbed onto the deck, and watched the moonlight glimmer
on the sea. This time she would be a different Erry. She had to be
different now, not the same old dock rat, not even with this very
rude, very pretty sailor. She could wait a little longer with this
one.

The
Golden
Crane
sailed on into the night. The wind filled her hair, the good scent
of water and salt filled her nostrils, and Erry smiled softly. In
the darkness, she thought of Mae Baker, and she thought of Leresy,
and she thought of all those she had lost. She remembered the pain
of her childhood and the wars of her youth, and she knew those
memories would always fill her, that her scars would always burn.
Yet standing here upon the deck, she could smile, for Erry knew that
while darkness stretched behind her, light shone ahead. And that was
all right. That was enough for her.

A gleam upon the sea caught her
eye. She leaned over the railing and frowned. Something was
floating in the water, small and bright in the moonlight.

Erry leaped and shifted into a
dragon. She dived down to the water, gripped the sparkling item in
her claws, and flew back onto the deck. When she shifted back into
human form, she found a silver amulet in her palm, shaped like a sun.

It was her father's amulet, the
amulet that had been hers for so long, that had brought her here.
She slung it around her neck and stood for a long time, watching the
sea.

 
 
RUNE

They walked along the beach,
watching sunset gild the waves. The cliffs of Ralora rose behind
them, and the sand caressed their bare feet. Seashells glimmered in
the light, countless jewels hiding and emerging with every wave. The
wind from the sea blew their hair, scented of home.

"Do you know why I love the
sea?" Tilla said, voice soft.

Rune looked at her. She was
staring into the water, her high cheeks, normally so pale, golden in
the light. A smile touched her lips, but a sadness filled her eyes,
a good sadness like memories that were too special, too important,
for joy alone.

"Because it's always
different," Rune answered.

She looked at him. "Yes.
Have I told you before?"

He smiled. "Only a hundred
and one times."

She looked back at the waves.
"This evening the sunlight breaks through the thin clouds, rays
fall upon the water, and a path of gold trails into the horizon.
Yesterday birds sang here, and the water glimmered with white
mottles. Sometimes the water is blue and sometimes it's green.
Sometimes the sky is a single, uniform azure, and sometimes it's a
patchwork of a hundred colors." She reached out and held his
hand, still watching the waves. "And sometimes, standing here,
we are young and scared. And sometimes we are older and scarred.
And sometimes... sometimes we're just two people in the sand, a story
of pain and triumph, and we too are a patchwork like the sky, a
dappled painting of hurt and joy. And some days, like today, when
the wind is warm and the waves whisper, when the light falls on
seashells and sand, and when the sky fades into purple and indigo...
I don't know who I am. But I'm happy with that. And I'm happy here
with you."