A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,25
it!" he said. "I've waited long enough. I want to fly. I want to burn." He walked around the book, sat down by Lyana, and shoved her aside. "Let me see what this storybook of yours says."
"Bayrin!" she began and launched into a lecture, but he ignored her.
He stared down at the cracked old parchment. A baker's boy had saved the book, an ancient tome titled Mythic Creatures of the Gray Age, when fleeing the city. Upon its pages appeared illustrations of a thousand beasts: griffins, dragons, undead warriors, and every other creature that had ever walked, slithered, or flown. Lyana had the bestiary open to a chapter titled "Nephilim".
On the left page sprawled an illustration of a battle. In a valley stood an army of knights and archers. Toward them swarmed a host of rotting, twisted giants. Each stood thrice the height of a man. Each wore motley pieces of armor over rotten, scaly flesh. Some were bloated, their skin oozing; others were lanky and covered in spikes and horns. All bore tattered wings tipped with claws. A crimson serpent appeared upon their shields and helms, their sigil.
"Merciful stars," Bayrin said. "Ugly bastards, aren't they?" He leaned down and squinted at the opposite page. Lines of text appeared there, nearly too small for him to read. "What's it say here, Lyana?"
Sitting beside him, she groaned. "I thought you said you could read, Bayrin."
"I can! But these letters are so small and faded, and they're written in the tongue of Osanna, which only old priests and shriveled-up scribes can read anyway."
"Well I can read it, and the only thing shriveled up here is your brain. I'll read it for you; if you squint any harder, your eyes will be sucked into your skull." She shoved him aside, cleared her throat, and began to read from the page, translating the words as she went.
"Ten thousand years ago, the children of darkness emerged from their Abyss, crawled upon the earth, and took human wives. Thus were born the nephilim, the Fallen, the spawn of darkness dwellers and human wombs. Tall as giants they grew with rotted flesh, blazing eyes, and wings like black banners. They roamed the land, and their cries shook the mountains, and their claws tore down the walls of cities.
"The Ancient Ones, the desert dwellers whose daughters birthed the nephilim, raised a great host. They drove the nephilim into the Palace of Whispers, their great fortress in the desert, and sealed them in a deep chamber. An iron door they wrought for the prison, which they locked with an iron key.
"The fathers of the Fallen, demons of the Abyss, raged at the shame of their children. They took the iron key into Tarath Gehena, a dark tower, and placed guardians around it, so that none will see the shame of their fallen spawn."
When she finished reading, silence fell upon the room. Elethor stood frowning down at the book; he had not spoken all day. Lyana hugged herself.
"I don't get it," Bayrin said and furrowed his brow. "If you wanted to seal these critters, why even make a key? Why not just… build a door that cannot open, or destroy the key—why hide it in some tower?" He sighed. "Of course some madwoman like Solina would eventually seek this key. Didn't the Ancients have any sense?"
Lyana glared at him. "They had more sense than you, Bayrin, and so do most bricks. They didn't use a regular door. The nephilim would smash through it. They used a magical door, a Door of Sealing; nothing can break through those. The Ancients lived ten thousand years ago, before Tiranor and Requiem even existed, and they crafted many magical artifacts. If you had ever paid any attention to your tutors, instead of scribbling naked ladies into your books, you'd have known that." She reached into her pocket and drew a filigreed key, identical to the ones Elethor and Mori wore around their necks. "Seen this key before, Bayrin? That's right. The key to Requiem's library, Chamber of Artifacts, and… the Gates of the Abyss." She shuddered and pocketed the key. "Doors of Sealing exist in Requiem too, though their history predates our own. Without a key, they're forever closed."
"Somebody should have used one of these keys on your mouth," Bayrin muttered. "Seal it shut forever." He sighed. "So, what do we do now? Fly south and try to grab the key before Soli? Or do we fly north and hide like our spy Leras