A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,103
belly. She could almost feel her son wriggle inside. She could almost hear him screech.
The weredragons killed my child with Elethor, she thought and closed her eyes. But Lord Legion has given me a new heir, and he will be greater. He will rule this world.
She still ached from the night she had allowed Legion to know her. Her belly gave a twist, and Solina gasped. That was his son. That was the demon child within her. His claws tugged at her womb, still too weak to break through.
But soon, my child, she thought. Soon you will emerge into this world and be my heir, a great king the world will cower from.
She opened her eyes and looked back at Legion.
"Keep mounting the females," she told him. "Again and again. We need more. I want them pressed against the ceiling until they crack it. Very soon, Legion, we will have enough to cover the sky of the world."
He nodded, fangs bright with drool.
"For you, my queen, I will create a mountain of spawn."
She nodded and crossed the bridge. As she left the Hall of Memory and marched toward her throne room, she caressed her belly and smiled.
LYANA
She flew across the desert, fire in her belly. Behind her flew ten thousand warriors, a swarm of dragons and griffins bearing archers on their backs. They flew low. The desert raced below them, boulders blurring into streaks. The sun pounded above. The air whipped them and screamed in Lyana's ears.
"Here we are, boys," Lyana called over her shoulder. "Stay low and burn those sails!"
The River Pallan stretched across the desert ahead, a scar of blue and green rifting the land. It flowed several leagues away; they would be there in moments. Reeds, palm trees, and fields of barley grew alongside it. Upon the water rose hundreds of white sails, each emblazoned with the Golden Sun of Tiranor.
These waters will boil, Lyana thought, and the trees and sails will blaze.
She looked to her left. Far in the north, she could just make out a sprawling patch of brown and green. Distant white towers rose from it, mere twigs from here. There lay Irys, capital of Tiranor, a hive of a million souls. A second army flew toward it, a cloud in the northern horizon; Mori and Bayrin flew there with thousands of warriors.
But that is their battle, Lyana thought and looked back east. Here is mine.
The Pallan flowed so close now, Lyana could count the sailors' shields. She growled and filled her maw with flame.
"Burn every last ship!" she shouted to the dragons, griffins, and soldiers who flew behind her. "Sink them all."
She streamed forward, leaving the desert to dive over fields and trees. Irrigation canals stretched below her like blue cobwebs, and farmers dashed to hide in their homes. Behind Lyana, her dragons roared, her griffins shrieked, and their riders—men and women of Osanna—sounded their war cries.
Lyana reached the water. She banked and dived to skim southward along the river. Rushes and palms billowed at her sides, bending under the flap of her wings. Ships rowed and sailed beneath her, and she bathed them with flames.
As her fire rained, arrows soared. Lyana roared. Arrows clattered against her scales. One shot through her wing, and another slammed into her back leg. Upon her back, Wila of Osanna fired down her own arrows, screaming the battle cries of her people. One of her arrows pierced a Tiran sailor upon a ship, sending him plunging into the water.
Around Lyana, dragons and griffins swooped to tear and burn the ships. Arrows flew in both directions, fired by both northern riders and Tiran sailors. Several griffins crashed dead into the river, their necks pierced with arrows. The ships rocked madly and sails blazed. One dragon screamed, arrows in her neck, and shifted back into human form; she crashed into the water.
Lyana rose higher, arrows whistling all around. The river stretched before her, a great stream that flowed into the southern horizon; it ran for so many leagues it could take days to clear. She snarled and dived again, raining fire on more ships. More arrows flew. One scraped Lyana's cheek, and Wila shouted upon her back.
"Five damn arrows in my shield!" she cried to Lyana. "Bastards."
Lyana could not spare the woman a glance, but she heard the whoosh of Wila's arrows flying by her ears. Two arrows pierced sailors upon ships below. The sails and masts blazed.
Lyana growled, flew along the water, and dived again. More ships burned,