A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2)

A BIRTHRIGHT OF BLOOD

THE DRAGON WAR, BOOK TWO

by

Daniel Arenson

Copyright © 2013 by Daniel Arenson

All rights reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an electronic
or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the
author.

FOREWORD

A Birthright of Blood
is the second volume of
The Dragon War
, a fantasy series about an ancient kingdom whose people can turn into dragons.

This novel assumes you've already read the first
Dragon War
novel,
A Legacy of Light
. If you haven't, you'll probably still get the gist of things here, though I do recommend reading
Legacy
first. You can grab the first book
here
or search Amazon for "A Legacy of Light."

With this introduction out of the way, I welcome you back into a world of blood, steel, and dragonfire.

 
 
KAELYN

They stood in the heart of evil,
a woman and a man, two souls alone in a sea of steel, bloodlust, and
fire.

All around them, line by line,
stretched the ranks of a dark empire. Five hundred thousand strong
they stood, the soldiers of the Legions, automatons of steel coated
in plate and helm. Half a million demons. Half a million blades.
Half a million souls screaming for blood and glory.

Youths
broken and molded into beasts,
Kaelyn thought, standing among them. Hidden within her helm, her
eyes stung with tears.
The
Legions crushed their hearts; only fire burns within these breasts.

The
soldiers covered the great Square of Cadigus, a cobbled expanse wider
than entire towns. Not a boot strayed out of line. Fifty brigades
mustered here, and within each, smaller units stood in perfect
formation—milanxes divided into phalanxes divided into
flights—paths running between them. Soldiers stood with drawn
blades. Officers held the standards of Cadigus; each pole rose twice
a man's height, topped with iron dragons perched upon red spirals.
Flying above, a true
dragon
would see a great machine of metal, every soldier a single cog
perfectly aligned, an imperial clockwork built to kill.

Kaelyn turned her head only
slightly, for only a second, and glanced at the soldier who stood
beside her. To the world, he was another legionary. Black steel
coated him, the breastplate engraved with a spiral. His helm hid his
face. He bore a dark shield and a longsword. He was one in myriads,
a gear of metal and fire, identical to her and to half a million
more.

He was, Kaelyn knew, the most
important man in the world.

Be
strong, Rune,
she thought, wanting to whisper to him, hold his hand, and comfort
him, but daring not.
We
are in the lion's den. Be strong. I'm with you. Be strong and we
will live.

She looked back ahead. She
vowed to not look aside again. One wrong glance, one tilt of the
head, could mean bones broken upon the wheel.

Across the square, the palace
loomed above the Legions. Obsidian tiles covered its bricks, the
black stones so polished they shone white in the sun. Battlements
lined the great hall, cannons peering between merlons like iron eyes.
The banners of House Cadigus hung from the crenellations, each one
sporting a red spiral against a black field.

Above this hall, stretching like
a blade from a hilt, rose the tower of Tarath Imperium, the great
steeple of the empire. A thousand feet it rose, piercing the clouds,
the tallest structure the world had seen. Black were its bricks, and
arrowslits squinted upon its walls. Its crest flared out into a
crown of black spikes, watching Requiem in eternal vigil.

Before she had fled her father's
rule, Kaelyn had once stood upon that black crown, a thousand feet
above the empire. The city of Nova Vita, a million people strong,
had rolled around her. Beyond the city walls, she had seen distant
forests and mountains, Requiem sprawling into the horizons.

Today her father perched upon
that crown. The Legions in the square below stood in human forms,
soldiers clad in steel, but Emperor Frey Cadigus roared as a dragon.
His golden wings spread wide. Fire shot from his jaws, a flaming
pillar rising into the sky. His howl rang across the city; even
standing below, Kaelyn winced at its depth and rage.

"Hail the red spiral!"
cried the emperor.

Across the square, the Legions
roared.

Half a million soldiers shouted
together. Their fists rose, then slammed against chests. The sound
exploded like thunder.

"Hail the red spiral!"
the Legions shouted, and Kaelyn shouted among them.

The emperor's wings stretched
like curtains of night, as if he could engulf the world. Smoke and
flame rose from him. His eyes burned red. He perched upon the tower
top like a gargoyle of molten fire, like a demon risen from the
Abyss. He was scale, flame, and steel. He was the wrath and might
of an empire.

He
is my father,
Kaelyn thought and her eyes burned.
He
is the man I must someday slay.

"An evil has risen in the
south!" roared Emperor Cadigus. "A rot spreads. The
Resistance raises its head in mockery."

The Legions howled, fists raised
and voices torn in rage. The cries shook the square. The sound
thudded in Kaelyn's chest and slammed against her ears. She shouted
with them. She raised her fist and cried in fury. Yet she did not
share the bloodlust of the thousands around her. She thought of how
her father would beat her, how his hot irons would sear her flesh,
and how his rod of lightning would thrust against her. The fires of
old pain flared inside her, and Kaelyn screamed with the rest of
them, letting her memories burn.

At her side, Rune shouted too,
his voice hoarse, his fist raised. Kaelyn did not know where he
found his rage, but she could guess. The Cadigus Regime had burned
his home and slain his father. There would be rage enough in him to
fuel a forge.

Emperor Frey blew fire, then
shouted again.

"We have defeated the old
enemies of Requiem!" His wings beat, churning flame around him.
"We've slain the griffins, the salvanae of the west, and the
weak men of the east. We've burned the desert barbarians south of
our sea. The world is cleansed of their evil! Yet still darkness
writhes among us."

The Legions roared in the
square. They chanted for Requiem. They banged fists against
breastplates. They were a smelter ready to spill over.

And
they will cover the world,
Kaelyn thought, standing among them in her disguise.
They
will drown all lands in their shadow, unless our small light can hold
back the tide.

"We
will slay the evil that has risen!" Frey howled upon the tower.
"We will stamp out those who betray the empire. We will crush
any weakness within us. Requiem must be united in its honor, pride,
and strength." He roared fire. "We seek
purification
!"

The crowds below chanted,
banging their fists.

"Purification!
Purification!" Their cries rang across the city. "Hail
the red spiral!"

Flames spewed from the emperor's
maw and wrapped around him. He bellowed to the skies, wings roiling
smoke and ash.

"All weakness must be
eradicated!" he cried. "The sick must die. The old must
perish. The traitors must be broken. Requiem will be pure in its
strength and glory."

The crowds roared.
"Purification! Purification!"

Kaelyn shouted among them. Rune
did too. Her eyes burned.

So
the stories are true,
she thought. Whispers had reached their southern camp, speaking of
the Axehand Order—the elite thugs of the emperor—slaying the sick
and weak. Refugees spoke of axehands storming infirmaries and homes,
snatching all those deemed impure. The ill, the handicapped, the
wounded, the frail and old—all taken at night, never seen again.

"Purification!"
chanted the crowds, banging fists against steel. "Purification!"

Above
them all, the great golden dragon howled. "Requiem will be
pure! Weakness will be crushed. The southern rebels will be broken.
Purification
!
Axehands—reveal the prisoners!"

Men of the Axehand Order stood
upon the great hall's battlements. Their black robes swayed. Their
hoods hid their faces. Their left arms ended with axe blades
strapped to stumps; with their right hands, they grabbed and twisted
cranks. The banners of Cadigus, sweeping black fields emblazoned
with red spirals, began to rise from the walls like curtains.

Kaelyn winced. Tears budded in
her eyes. She couldn't help it; a wail fled her lips.

It was a mistake—wailing here
could cost her life—but none heard her. All around, the other
soldiers roared with renewed rage. Their shouts rang, battle cries
of unending hatred, shrieks of primordial fire.

"Oh stars," Rune said
beside her, voice shaking; Kaelyn doubted any of the screaming
soldiers heard him either.

As the banners rose, Kaelyn
stared at the unveiled, bloody walls of the palace. Tears streamed
down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she
whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Upon the castle walls they hung
from chains, twenty wagon wheels. Each wheel held a broken man,
woman, or child, their shattered limbs slung through the spokes.
They were still alive. They twisted and bled, too weak to scream.

"Behold the rot among us!"
Frey called from his tower, a beast of flame and tooth. "Behold
the so-called resistors caught lurking in our pure city. See their
might now! See their wives and children broken upon the wheels. See
the impure and cowardly crushed!"

Kaelyn wanted to look away. She
knew these men. She knew their wives. She had played with their
children. Tears blurred her vision, her throat tightened, and her
fists trembled, yet she could not look away. She stared at them, her
brothers in arms, now shreds of humanity.

They were naked, their flesh
whipped and burned. Their bones had been shattered with hammers.
Their spines had been cracked. They coiled through the spokes like
ropes of flesh, and they bled, and they whimpered. A few were
children barely older than toddlers.

Kaelyn wanted to fly to them.
She wanted to shift into a dragon, to burn them dead, to end their
pain, then flee this city. Yet she could not. If she shifted now
into a dragon, the Legions would swarm, and she too would be broken.
She too would hang among her comrades.

She clenched her fists,
trembled, and bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

They
served me.
Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe, and she tasted
tears on her lips.
They
served my rebellion. I doomed them to this fate. I'm sorry, my
friends.

"So
will happen to all who stain our purity!" Frey said from the
tower top, voice ringing across the square. "Axehand
Order—remove these wretches from the wheels. Send them to
infirmaries. Heal their bones. Heal their spirits." His voice
rose to a shriek, a sound like steam fleeing a kettle. "We will
break them anew every year! They will hang here every summer, spines
and limbs shattered, and we will heal them again, and break them
again, and they will scream for decades, and we will never let them
die. They will suffer! The enemies of Requiem will suffer!
Purification!
"

The Legions roared.
"Purification!"

"Hail the red spiral!"
cried the emperor.