A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,101

Irys; that is where my battle lies." She held his arm. "I promise you, El, I will fight well. We will take the city."

"And I'm going with you!" Bayrin said. He placed an arm around Mori's waist and pulled her close. "Just don't fly so fast you leave me behind."

Elethor smiled softly; seeing his friend hold his sister close comforted him. If anyone could keep Mori safe, after all, it was her personal guardian.

"Yes, Bay, you will fly with Mori to Irys," he said. "And you will take with you twenty thousand griffins, dragons, and men." His voice hardened. "The Palace of Phoebus must fall."

Mori nodded. "It will fall."

Elethor turned to look west. In the darkness of night, he could not see the distant mountains where Solina lurked, but still the shadows chilled him. He thought of that day long ago—their day, a perfect day in his home upon the hill—and he thought of Solina slaying children in Requiem, kidnapping Mori, and screaming that she would slaughter them all.

You wait for me there, Solina, in darkness. You vowed to light the world; now you lurk in shadow. We will meet again in the mountains. No more words. No more memories. Now we meet with flame and steel and blood.

He spoke softly. "And I will fly to the mountains. I will lead a host against the Palace of Whispers. And I will kill Solina."

For the first time in the council, young Lady Treale spoke. "And I'm going with you."

Her eyes shone in the moonlight. Her lips tightened. Elethor remembered that night upon the hill when those lips had kissed him, when those eyes had seemed so warm and comforting in the night. Her kiss had given him strength then, though he had never dared tell her that, and even now, looking upon those lips, those dark eyes, and her flowing black hair soothed him.

"But Treale," he said, "you squire for Lyana. Will you not fly south with her? Will you not fight at her side?"

The squire looked over her shoulder at Lyana, then back at Elethor. She raised her chin higher and shook her head.

"Lyana is no longer a knight, but a queen," Treale said. "And I'm a warrior. My lord, I…" She lowered her head. "When the wyverns attacked, I… I let you down. I am so sorry, my lord. I fled from battle then." She raised her eyes; they shone with tears. "But I will not let you down again. You are my lord, my king, my guiding star. Let me reclaim my honor. I will fly by your side, King Elethor, and I will sound my roar, and I will slay our enemies. For you, my king." She drew her sword and knelt before him. "My sword and flame are yours."

The council dispersed in the night, each member retiring to a quiet place to rest until dawn. Around the sleeping camp, salvanae circled in vigil, their bright eyes piercing the night.

Elethor stepped downhill toward a tent of lush, crimson fabric. He stepped inside to find beds soft with quilts, tables topped with untouched meals, and candles casting their flickering light.

His family shared the tent with him. Mori and Bayrin nibbled a cold dinner, then lay down in a plush bed; the princess slept with her head upon her guardian's chest. Treale, like family to them, curled up in her own bed and slept clutching her sword to her breast.

Elethor could not eat nor drink. He removed his armor, lay upon his bed, and stared at the tent walls. The pain still clutched his heart; it had not left since Solina had returned to Requiem two winters past. Perhaps this pain had not left him since Solina had fled into her exile nearly a decade ago.

Lyana slipped into bed with him. She huddled close, wrapped her arms around him, and her lips touched his ear.

"Will you sleep?" she whispered.

He looked aside and saw the others sleeping. He looked back at Lyana.

"I will sleep," he whispered. "Lyana, this… this might be our last night together. I don't know what tomorrow will bring."

She touched his cheek. "It might be our last night," she agreed. "But I don't think it will be. We've survived this long, and now we are strong. Now we fly with aid. We will win this, El."

He held her close and shut his eyes. They stung; he dared not open them lest they shed tears.

"I love you, Lyana," he whispered, holding her like a drowning man. "I am