A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,26
politely opined?"
For once, Lyana had no answer. She looked up at Elethor; so did Bayrin. The young king stood above them, silent, staring at the book as if he hadn't heard the conversation. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his brow was creased.
Damn it, Bayrin thought, he's too young for wrinkles, too young to look so tired. His friend was not yet thirty but lately, with that ridiculous new beard of his and long sleepless nights, he looked ten years older.
"What do you think, El?" he asked softly. He rose to his feet and stood by his friend. "What do you make of all this mess?"
For a long moment, Elethor remained silent and stared at the book. When finally the king looked up, Bayrin lost his breath; a deep, haunting pain lived in Elethor's eyes, a demon's shadow twisting underwater. For three moons now, Bayrin had never stopped thinking of Mori, and her memory tore at him; looking in Elethor's eyes, he knew that the king felt the same pain for myriads of souls, for all those who had died in Nova Vita under his reign.
"We cannot run," Elethor said. His lips were pale, his voice ghostly. "We cannot run now, or we will always run. If Solina awakes the sleeping nephilim, her wrath will flow across the world; there will be no more places to hide." He gripped the hilt of his sword. "We must fly south. We must burn her land and topple her court. But not alone. With the nephilim, Solina will crave the world entire, and the world entire must fight alongside our banners. Dragons. Salvanae. Griffins. Men. We must fight as one or the world will fall."
Lyana sighed, a deep sigh that clanked her armor. "Elethor, the world abandoned us," she said and touched her husband's arm. "We tried to rouse them. We begged for aid when wyverns flew. Our friends forsook us. Where were the salvanae when acid flowed? Where were griffins when Solina murdered our children? Where were men when our columns fell? We are Vir Requis; we have no friends in this world. All we have is our fire, our claws, and our roar."
Bayrin nodded and pounded his fist into his palm. "Damn right! We fly alone. To the Abyss with everyone else. I'm going to roast Soli's backside myself."
Elethor turned away from them, walked toward the cave's entrance, and stood staring outside at the rain. From below rose the sounds of the camp: babes crying, children playing, and elders praying. The soft light limned Elethor and silvered his armor. He stood silently, one hand on the pommel of his sword.
"No," he said finally, not turning back to face Bayrin and Lyana. "Too many died. Too many voices are silenced. A thousand live here, a last light for our race. How many more hide in the wilderness? Another thousand? A hundred? Even if Solina empties her land of wyverns, if she wakes the nephilim, they will slaughter us in the desert. We cannot face this threat alone." He turned back toward them. "Bayrin, my friend, fly west from here. Fly west, take this book with you, and raise the salvanae to our cause. Lyana, my love, fly east and rally men and griffins to our banner. Our neighbors did not fight the wyverns, it is true. They will fight to stop Solina from unleashing the nephilim, or the world will burn—their lands too."
Bayrin bit his lip and tugged at his hair. "I don't know, El. I don't know. Flying to raise help will take a while. If Solina is working to find this key, we can't waste time." He blew out his breath. "But I'll fly west if you ask me."
Mori might be hiding out west. Will I find her in the golden halls of the salvanae?
Lyana gripped her sword and raised her chin. "And I will fly east—to the courts of men and the isles of griffins. If aid lies in the east, I will bring it here."
They left the cave. They stood outside above the forest, and the rain pattered against their armor. Bayrin looked at his companions: his friend and king, tall and gaunt Elethor, all the joy and life gone from his eyes; his sister, now his queen, her hair fiery and her fists clutching her sword and dagger. A lump filled his throat.
I love you, Elethor, he thought. I love you, Lyana. More than I can ever tell you.