A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,110

for her king.

And he was afraid for her. He was afraid for all those who followed him, who obeyed his orders without question, who plunged into darkness to fight at his side. If too many nephilim lurked beyond these doors, there would be no sky to flee to.

It is victory now, Elethor thought, or death—death for me, my men, and this young woman who only a few years ago placed a frog on my dinner plate, then fled squealing and laughing, a child with no care in the world.

"El?" she whispered. "Are you all right?"

He held her shoulder. "Treale, if we don't make it out of here, I want you to know something."

Her lips parted, and Elethor knew she was remembering that night—that night upon the hill where she had kissed his cheek, where they had talked about their lives, where for one night Elethor had forgotten about Solina, forgotten about Lyana, and had almost loved her, almost left the world for her. He had thought about that night often, and today in her eyes, he saw that she had never forgotten—that she had relived her lips upon his cheek countless times.

"What is it, El?" she whispered.

"Treale, you fought bravely. You proved your honor. Whatever happens beyond those doors, you are Requiem's finest; never doubt that. Will you kneel before me?"

She gasped, swallowed, and nodded. She knelt, caked with blood and ash, and held out her sword in open palms.

"I, King Elethor Aeternum," he said, "knight you a bellator of Requiem, a warrior of starlight. Rise, Lady Treale Oldnale."

She rose, tears in her eyes.

"But I ran from battle," she whispered. "When the wyverns attacked, I—"

"You flew to find your family," Elethor said. "I will not fault you for that. And damn it, Treale. You saved my bloody sister, for stars' sake. That's got to count for something, no?"

She laughed, eyes damp. "A knight, Elethor! Bloody stars. Two years ago I thought I'd be a puppeteer." She wiped her eyes, clutched her sword, and nodded down the hall. "Now that I'm a knight and about a hundred times braver, are you ready to go kill the queen?"

He nodded. She clasped his shoulder and bared her teeth. He gripped her shoulder too. They shared one long, final stare, then turned and ran shouting down the hallway. Their men screamed and charged behind them. They smashed against the bronze doors.

These doors were ancient, forged thousands of years ago, and they crashed open, and Elethor and Treale burst into a great chamber.

Countless nephilim screeched, white eyes blazing like molten fire.

Elethor shifted into a dragon and spewed his flames. Treale shifted too and her fire screamed across the chamber. Nephilim shrieked. Fellow Vir Requis burst into the room behind them, and more dragons blew fire, and nephilim crashed against the ceiling and walls, and a column cracked.

The hall blazed, an inferno of flame and flesh and scale and tooth. A nephil burst through fire and thrust claws, and Elethor roared, blood upon his chest. Another nephil leaped onto Treale and knocked her down, and she rolled and wrestled it, her tail flailing. The beasts flew everywhere, a great living mass, and Elethor lashed his claws, bit maggoty flesh, and whipped his tail.

A flaming halo crackled, and a towering nephil rose ahead, wings spread out like the sails of a demon ship. Lord Legion shrieked, and the sound cracked the walls, and rubble fell from the ceiling. Men died in his jaws, and the Nephil King laughed, and all around him his minions spread, an endless sea of the fallen.

We cannot win this, Elethor realized, and fear clutched him, and for a moment he froze. They are too many. I led my people to death.

Legion chewed and swallowed men, licked his lips, and charged toward Elethor. Legion's great arms swung, and Elethor blew his fire, but the arms slammed into him. He flew and crashed against a wall, cracking it. More nephilim mobbed him. Three beasts dragged Treale down and bit into her back, and she screamed.

"Enough!"

The voice rang across the chamber, clear even over the shrieks and roars.

The nephilim froze.

Elethor fell, wheezing, and his wings draped at his sides. He looked up to see Solina sitting upon a throne of living flesh and scales. One of the nephilim formed her backrest, its head above her own, drooling upon her. Two more nephilim formed her armrests; she laid her hands upon their ridged spines. A crown like claws of gold rose upon her head. Nephil drool