A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,30

dangling head. The blow tore the rotted head off, and the mother crashed down. The rusty blades that rose from the floor pierced her chest. Blood gushed. The fetus screeched.

"You killed her!" cried the parasite inside the fallen body. His voice was shrill, demonic, a voice like wind through canyons and demons in the deep. "You killed my mother!"

Nemes could barely move. He stood panting, wounds blazing and blood dripping. Around him spread the brambles of blades. The fetus rose from the womb, dripping mucus. His umbilical cord ripped. The red, writhing creature leaped up, flew through the air, and grabbed onto Nemes's torso.

"You will be my new host!" the fetus screamed. He began slashing at Nemes's stomach, ripping his cloak and tearing his skin. "I will enter you. Let me in. You will be my mother!"

Nemes screamed. He grabbed the slimy parasite. He tried to rip it off, but the beast was too slippery, too squirming. The fetus began to bite at him. With bloody fingers, Nemes held the snapping head back. Such strength filled the creature; he was strong as a grown man.

"I will live inside you!" the aborted fetus screamed.

Nemes stumbled toward a wall bristly with blades. He pitched forward toward the spikes. A blade impaled the fetus and blood poured.

"Mother!" the babe cried. "Mother, it hurts, it stabs us! Why does he kill us?"

Nemes stumbled backward, clutching at his wounds. The fetus remained upon the wall, skewered on the blade. The creature writhed. He wept. Suddenly he seemed to Nemes not a demon spawn, but a human child, scared and hurt and dying.

"Mother," the babe whispered… and then his head slumped. He hung still like a slab on a meat hook.

Nemes limped toward a door in the back. His head swam and he trembled with blood loss. He trudged upstairs, holding the wall and smearing blood across it. He entered the fourth floor of the tower.

A choked gasp fled his lips.

No horror—not the obese diner, not the twisted dog, not the fetus in his host—could prepare Nemes for this.

Tears filled his eyes.

"No," he whispered and fell to his knees. "Please, no."

Lying on the floor before him, gasping and bleeding and pale, was his father.

The old man opened his mouth. His teeth were gone. His lips were dry. He tried to speak, sputtered, and whispered.

"S-son." He lifted a skeletal hand. Sweat covered his brow. "Son, please… please save me."

Nemes crawled toward his father and touched his forehead. It was blazing hot. His father was feverish, so frail his skin draped across his bones. His eyes were sunken, and a dry cough rattled in his chest. He wore only canvas breeches and he trembled.

"Father!" Nemes said. He doffed his cloak and wrapped it around the old man. "I'm here. Your son is here."

His father tried to smile, then coughed and grimaced. Blood stained his lips; more speckled his chest. He touched Nemes's cheek with shaking, twisted fingers.

"My son. You must take the key. You must take it from me. You—"

Coughing seized him, and he spat more blood.

No, Nemes thought. His fists clenched. No! This cannot be. Cannot!

"I saw you die!" Nemes said, tears burning in his eyes. "You died in the courts of Requiem. You died with a broom in your hands. The cruel king and princes did not even know; they did not care. I buried you! I buried you myself." He raised his head and howled at the ceiling. "What cruel mockery is this? How dare you show me this illusion!"

Tears burned down Nemes's cheeks. His father wiped them away, smiling thinly. His hair had once been dark and thick; now it was white and wispy, nearly all gone from his scalp.

"I live again," the old man said. "I died; it is true. He brought me back to life. Lord Legion. The prophet of the Fallen. He breathed new life into my lungs, and filled my heart with blood to pump, and placed me here. For you, Nemes. For you. To give you the key so you may free him."

Nemes shook as he held his father. The man felt so frail in his arms, his bones so brittle, likely to snap in an embrace.

"I will take you out of here, Father," he said. "I promise. Once we give the queen the key, she will reward us. We will be powerful, no longer servants. You will never serve again, I promise you." He let out a sob. "You will live in a palace of gold, and King