Authors: Daniel Arenson
Let this be a
healing river,
he thought.
If you can hear my prayers, Issari's Star,
let us find healing.
Fidelity turned toward
him in the water and kissed his cheek, and they climbed out onto the grass and
lay in the night, naked in the darkness.
To me, you are
soothing and healing like water,
Roen thought, closing his eyes, holding Fidelity
close, trying to lose the pain as he embraced her.
He kissed her cheek,
and then in the darkness, he found himself kissing her lips. She kissed him
back, and he stroked her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his back, and he
did not mean to, did not expect to, but he found himself making love to her,
flowing inside her, moving atop her as she gasped, wrapped her legs around him,
buried her hands in his hair. He made love to her in the darkness with the same
urgency and passion as their first time. He lay with her for his love, for his
grief, for a world that collapsed around him. Perhaps Fidelity was all that
remained of his world, all that mattered to him, the sum of all goodness and
comfort and light.
"I love you, Fidelity,"
he whispered, kissing her neck.
"I love you, Roen."
He felt her tears on his cheek. "Even as worlds crumble, I will always
love you."
They held each other,
entwined together, and slept through darkness and dawn.
DOMI
She walked with
Cade down the dark cobbled streets of Lynport, seeking the Old Wheel, the
tavern where she had spent a summer in her youth, the tavern where she would
now find hope or crushing grief.
Did
you survive the flight, Fidelity?
Domi thought as she walked along the shadowy
streets.
Do you wait for me here?
This
was an old neighborhood, and this was an old city, an ancient port on the edge
of the Commonwealth. Some of the houses here predated the Commonwealth itself.
They were built of wattle and daub, the timbers dark and chipped, and their
roofs were triangular and tiled, not the clay domes of those houses the Temple
had built across the realm. Lantern poles rose at every street corner, and
flames flickered within the glass panels of their lamps. Domi could not yet see
the ocean ahead, but she heard its whispers calling to her, and she smelled the
salt on the air, a smell that triggered so many memories that she shivered.
"They'll
be here, Domi," Cade said softly. He patted her hand. "Fidelity and
Roen are swift dragons, faster and stronger than any drake."
She
nodded silently. Cade could not understand her, she knew. He had no memories of
the lamplight against the wet cobblestones, the sound of waves, the smell of
salt, but to her Lynport was a place of an older life. In her mind, she was a
child again, visiting here with her father and sister. They walked along the
boardwalk, bought fresh oysters from a stall, and shucked them on the beach.
Domi and Fidelity had gagged and squealed at the taste, and Korvin had ended up
eating them all. Again, Domi and Fidelity were playing beneath the cliffs of
Ralora along the beach, pretending to be old heroines of Requiem like the
legendary Queen Lyana, the warrior Agnus Dei, and the famous Tilla Roper who
had lived in this very city hundreds of years ago. In her mind, Domi sat again
in the Old Wheel tavern, tasting ale for the first time, and eating the best
fried fish she had ever tasted.
It
was a summer of family, of innocence,
she thought, remembering her time
here
. A last holiday of joy before I fled our home, before I chose the life
of a firedrake, before war burned us and took my family away from me.
She
turned to look at Cade.
Are
we all that remains, Cade? Are we the last whispers of Requiem?
They
kept walking and stepped onto the boardwalk. Only several lanterns cast their
light here; the boardwalk stretched long and dark across the coast, the sea
whispering to the south, a row of buildings rising in the north. The place was
barren. A few stray cats scampered along the beach, the only sign of life. The
moon was a faded glow behind the clouds, and the waves whispered.
Finally
Domi saw it ahead, a three-story building of wood and clay rising along the
boardwalk. The Old Wheel tavern.
Meet me at the old tavern!
Fidelity had
cried, and here it stood, and here Domi's fear swelled.
Be
here, Fidelity.
Domi
reached out and clutched Cade's hand, seeking some comfort from his presence.
He held her hand tightly, and they approached the tavern together. The
boardwalk was dark and barren, but Domi found the tavern door unlocked. She and
Cade stepped inside.
The
common room was large enough for six or seven tables, most of them in shadow. A
hearth lay cold and dark at the back, and casks of ale rose along one wall,
looming over a bar. A wagon wheel hung from the ceiling, candles burning upon
it, their light the only illumination. Two figures, shadowed and hooded, sat at
the back of the room, the only people here.
Domi
stood still, anxious, the sea wind at her back. Suddenly she feared that it was
Mercy and Gemini in the shadows, ambushing her, ready to drag her back to the
dungeon. The figures leaped to their feet and ran toward her, and Domi hissed
and prepared to shift into a dragon and blow her fire.
"Domi!"
cried one of the shadowy figures. "Cade!" The candlelight entered the
figure's hood, shining on spectacles with only one lens. The second figure
stepped forward too, and the light revealed Roen's beard and warm brown eyes.
"Fidelity!"
Domi cried, and tears budded in her eyes.
Her
sister leaped onto her, embraced her tightly, then laughed and turned toward
Cade, and soon they were all swapping hugs and laughter.
The
innkeeper emerged from the kitchen, and soon the companions sat at the table
together, and Domi tasted that ale again, and a bargirl placed the same old
fried fish before her, and her sister sat beside her again, and once more Domi
felt safe, felt loved, and it was too much. And it scared her. And her father
was not there. And though she did not eat the fish, she felt as if a bone were
lodged in her throat. The room spun around her. Her eyes burned. Her fingers shook
and she could not breathe. She rose from the table and fled the tavern, leaving
her companions behind.
She
raced across the boardwalk, legs weak, and leaped onto the moonlit beach. She
walked along the sand until she reached the sea and stood with her bare feet in
the water, and she closed her damp eyes.
It
hurts too much. The memories are too real. The joy is too painful.
She
stood for a long time, breathing deeply, listening to the waves. Finally she
heard soft footsteps behind her, and she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Domi?"
She
turned to see her older sister. Fidelity stared at her with soft eyes.
"Are
you all right, Domi?" she asked.
Domi
shook her head, and her tears fell. "No. I'm so sorry, sister. I'm so
sorry."
Fidelity
held her hand. "For what?"
"For
. . . for doing this to our family." Domi looked down at her toes. "For
running away. For becoming a firedrake, a traitor. For bearing Mercy on my back
and serving Gemini, as both a firedrake and a woman to mount." She
trembled. "I ran from our family. From father. From you. And I miss those
old days, and I'm so scared. Where is our father? Oh, Fidelity . . . where is
he?"
Now
Fidelity's eyes watered, and she pulled Domi into an embrace. "I wanted to
tell you at Old Hollow. I was going to. But the firedrakes arrived too quickly,
and . . . oh Domi. He fell." She squeezed Domi so closely it almost hurt. "It
was over the sea. He fought the firedrakes, and Mercy stabbed him, and I tried
to save him, but I couldn't. I saw him fall into the water, and Cade and I had
to flee. I don't know if he lived or died, but he's lost, Domi."
Domi
trembled.
Father.
Lost.
"It's
my fault," Domi whispered. "Oh, stars, it's my fault. I bore Mercy on
my back to Sanctus. I took her right to the library, and now . . ."
Domi
could speak no more. She couldn't even stay standing. She fell to her knees,
trembling. Fidelity knelt and embraced her.
"You
helped us flee the library," Fidelity whispered. "Without you, I
would be dead. You saved me."
The
waves rose ahead, wetting their knees. Fidelity hugged her close, and Domi
could only lie on the sand, a lump in her throat, grief and guilt in her heart.
I'm
sorry, Father. I'm so sorry. I miss you so much.
"I
just wish he were here again," Domi finally whispered. "That I could
tell him that I'm sorry. That I could tell him that I love him." She
tightened her lips. "He's still alive somewhere. I know it. Korvin is a
tough old bastard, the toughest man I know." She sat up, fists clenched in
the sand. "I'm going to believe that he's still out there, still fighting,
that I'll see him again." She turned to look at Fidelity. "We're
going to find him. And until then, we're going to keep fighting for him. For
Requiem."
Fidelity
nodded, unable to speak, only to embrace her sister. They sat together, watching
the waves. The clouds parted, revealing the head of the Draco constellation.
Issari's Star shone down upon them, the dragon's eye, forever guiding their
path.
CADE
When the
sisters returned into the Old Wheel tavern, they all sat together at the back
table, cloaked and shadowed.
"We
burn them." Cade pounded the tabletop. "We sneak into the city again.
We rise at night." He rose to his feet as if to demonstrate. "We burn
down the whole damn Temple!"
"Hush!"
Fidelity glanced around the common room, then glared at Cade. "Keep your
voice low and don't pound the table."
Cade
glanced around him too. Candles burned atop the wagon wheel chandelier, casting
flickering light across the common room. Casks of ale rose along one wall, and
before them stood the old innkeeper, polishing the bar. Several round tables
stood scattered across the scarred oak floor. A fire crackled at the hearth. A
collection of fisherman and tradesmen raised their eyes to stare at Cade, then
shook their heads or grunted and returned to their drinks.
Cade
sat down. "I'll be quiet now. But when we burn the Temple, I'll be
roaring."
He
looked at his companions one by one. Fidelity sat beside him, wrapped in a
burlap cloak. Her spectacles were still smashed, and her golden braid was cut
to half its previous length; the bottom half had burned in the battle. Across
from Cade sat two other hooded figures. Roen hunched over, elbows on the table,
looking as uncomfortable as a bear trapped in a barn. Cade saw little more than
the woodsman's beard and darting eyes. Beside him sat Domi, barely half Roen's
size, her cloak wrapped around her. She was busy sipping from her ale and
watching everyone, silent, her face blank.
"The
wisest course of action," said Fidelity, "is to continue our work. To
keep printing our books. To—"
"Fidelity!"
Cade rolled his eyes. "They burned down the whole damn forest. That
includes our printing press. They were waiting for us at the paper mill, and
you better believe they've got more men in every paper mill in the
Commonwealth. By now they've probably seized every book we've printed and
burned it." As she glared at him, Cade forced himself to lower his voice. "Books
won't be enough anymore. We need to attack."
Fidelity
tugged at her braid so mightily Cade thought she might rip off what remained of
it. "Attack? You saw what happened last time we attacked." She
lowered her eyes.
Cade
glanced at Roen, then at his drink. "I know." His voice was soft,
barely a whisper. "I didn't know Julian well, but he was kind to me. I can't
imagine the pain his loss brings to those who loved him." He looked up and
gazed at the three others. "We must continue the fight. We can't let Julian's
death be in vain. We have to stop this cursed Temple, and we have to save my
sister." His eyes stung. "Eliana is still there in the Temple, just a
baby. We have to save her."
For
the first time since they'd entered the tavern, Domi spoke, her voice soft. "Eliana
is safe. I saw her in the Temple, Cade. I know you want to save her, and I
promise you: I will do what I can to help. But know that she's safe, that she's
being treated well."
"Being
raised to become a paladin," Cade said. "Like Beatrix wanted for me."
Domi
frowned and leaned forward. "She wanted you to become a paladin?"
Cade
lowered his eyes again and clasped his hands beneath the tabletop. "She .
. . when I was there, in the Cured Temple, she . . . the High Priestess that is
. . . she told me that I'm her son." He looked up at the others, seeing
them through a haze. "That Mercy and Gemini are my siblings. That she
wanted me to consume tillvine, give up my magic, and become a paladin." He
barked a mirthless laugh that sounded almost like a sob. "Mind games."
Domi
and Fidelity both gasped.
"Impossible,"
said Fidelity.
"Lies,"
said Domi.
Roen,
meanwhile, only grunted and hunched down further. "The High Priestess
spoke truth."
Cade
frowned. He stared at the hulking forester. What did Roen know of such things?
Cade felt anger rise within him. He had never liked Roen, not since the first
moment, not since he had seen Fidelity and the brute exchanging secret glances.
Did Roen blame him for Julian's death, and was this some kind of feeble attempt
at revenge?
"What
do you mean?" Cade demanded. "How can it be true?"
Roen
sighed and, for the first time since entering the tavern, raised his mug of
ale. He drank slowly, emptying the mug in a single, long gulp.
"It
was years ago." The forester wiped suds off his beard. "I was only a
boy, about the age you are now, Cade. It was the day your father came to Old
Hollow, seeking aid. The day he came there with you."