A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,43

leagues west of the border with Requiem, since Nova Vita's fall. The forest spread around them, leaves red and gold and crunching underfoot, giving way to a chalky mountain that rose like a wall. Elders were tending to pots of simmering stew, children ran playing with wooden swords, and guards in muddy armor patrolled the palisade of sharpened spikes that surrounded the camp.

They had been living here for several moons now, and Bayrin had done his best to avoid Piri during this time. Packing his things today, he had congratulated himself on avoiding her until his very last day here… and now as she stood before him, chin raised and arms crossed, he cursed under his breath.

"Piri," he said and glared, "I fly alone."

She glared back with those lavender eyes he used to marvel at, and which he now hated. She was a tall woman, taller even than most men, and Bayrin had always felt uneasy around women this tall. She wore the white robes of a healer, the hems muddy, and her dark hair fell across her shoulders in two braids. When she scrunched her lips, Bayrin couldn't help but remember kissing those lips four years ago, and the memory sickened him.

"Bayrin Eleison!" she said and placed her hands on her hips. "You know the old saying: Those who fly alone die alone. I'm not letting you fly alone to seek aid from the salvanae. I'm going with you, like it or not."

Bayrin groaned so loudly he blew back a curl of his hair. It had been four years since he'd kissed her, and since then, it seemed Piri followed him everywhere. Before the wars, she would sneak into Castra Murus, barracks of the City Guard, and try to slink into his bed at night. Whenever he would pass her in Nova Vita, she would gaze at him lovingly, sending him fleeing. Even here, in this camp, she had been giving him longing looks for moons now, and he had barely avoided her.

Looking at those flashing, lavender eyes, Bayrin sighed. It was not that he hated Piri; truly, he did not. But stars, why did she have to pursue him so urgently?

So I kissed her. So what? They had rolled around in the hay a few years ago, and she had demanded marriage. Not a week had gone by since their first kiss, and Piri had already planned what they'd name their children. Bayrin had tried telling her he was too young for marriage—and certainly too young for children. He had tried to avoid her since. Yet year after year, she pursued him, tried to kiss him again, even tried to lie with him, and nothing could dissuade her.

"Piri," he said and frowned. "No. Just no. I know why you want to fly with me, and it won't work."

It was her turn to snort. She rolled her eyes. "Bayrin, don't you get a big head. Do you truly think I'm still infatuated with you? I'm long over what happened between us; not every girl in camp loves you, Bayrin Eleison, despite what you might think." She raised her nose at him. "I want to fly with you because I know Salvandos. I've visited Har Zahav before, the mountain where the salvanae live, to train as a healer. You need me as your guide. I've spoken to King Elethor about this, and he quite agrees. Ask him if you like; he will command you fly with me."

Bayrin sighed. He could just imagine Elethor's grin. On many nights back in Nova Vita, Bayrin would complain about Piri's onslaught, and Elethor would howl with laughter. Whenever Elethor—just a young prince then—would see Piri in the city streets, he would point her toward Bayrin and wink as the young woman began her pursuit. One time, when Bayrin had been hiding in an alehouse, Elethor had smuggled Piri inside under his cloak, then laughed for days about the mugs Bayrin had broken trying to flee the place.

"Of course Elethor would say that," he muttered.

He grabbed his longsword and buckled it to his belt, careful avoid Piri's gaze. As he was packing his pan, cutlery, and tinderbox, she kept standing with hands on hips, merely staring. As he was counting his rations—strings of sausages, sacks of oats, and jars of preserves—she began tapping her foot.

"Are you quite ready, Bayrin Eleison, or are you going to wait until the nephilim kill us all?"

He groaned, slammed an apple into his pack, and sealed it shut. He straightened,