A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,47

She looked back at Sharik's body, a lump of warty white flesh and oozing blood.

"Wait," the princess whispered. "We need to free the others."

Treale hissed between gritted teeth, whipping her head back and forth. Stars damn it! she thought. The shouts of guards still echoed above; no doubt they had heard the fight, and they would burst into this corridor any moment. And yet… Mori was right, she knew. Other screams echoed here: the screams of prisoners who filled the cells, hanging from the walls, skin lashed and bodies broken.

We can't leave them here, Treale thought.

She moved back to Sharik's body. For six nights, he had lain snoring upon his keys; it took dying for him to lie upon his other side, the keys exposed. Still holding her princess, Treale grabbed the ring of keys and wrenched it off Sharik's belt.

"Come on, Mori!" she said, keys in one hand, club in the other. "Hold onto me and walk, and we're going to get everyone out of here."

She began moving down the corridor, heels digging into the floor, breath rattling and body aching. The screams rolled above, and boots still thumped, and steel clashed. Yet still the guards did not appear. What was happening in the upper chambers? Treale did not have time to guess. It sounded like a hundred soldiers were clanking above her; she knew she had only moments before they arrived.

Mori limped by her, arms around her neck, and Treale stumbled toward one cell. She thrust the keys into the door's lock. The lock clanked, and the door opened to reveal a cell with three prisoners.

The men lay upon the floor, bloodied and whimpering. Sharik had dislocated their arms upon the rack. They trembled, pale and sickly and coughing, blood upon their backs. For a moment Treale could only stand, breath wheezing, head spinning.

How can we do this? Guards shouted above. Hundreds filled the palace, and thousands filled the city. Scores of prisoners filled this dungeon, and most were too ill, frail, and wounded to walk; she could not carry them all.

Did I travel to Tiranor only to die in darkness? Did I survive the fire over Requiem, and fly through smoke and blood, to fall with my princess underground?

Treale tightened her lips. No. No, I will not die here. She knelt by the prisoners, somehow holding her club, her keys, and Mori. She growled. We will not die like rats in Tiranor's bowels. We will find our sky. We will fly over Requiem again.

"You must stand!" she said to the prisoners. "Stand and flee! Move, now, before guards arrive."

The prisoners crawled, struggling for breath, struggling to rise. One managed to stand, leaning against a wall, then fell and mewled. The others could not even do that. More wails rose from the other chambers, and voices cried out to her, begging for freedom, begging for death. Tears stung Treale's eyes, and she let out a frustrated yowl.

"How can I do this, Mori?" she whispered. The princess still leaned against her, so frail she could barely support her own weight. "How can we free them? There are so many… so many wounded…"

The prisoners were crawling toward her, bloody hands outreached, when a shriek pierced the dungeons.

It was a shriek like shattering glass, like rending souls, the primordial cry of ancient evil. It was so loud, the dungeon shook and dust rained, and Treale dropped club and key and covered her ears. The prisoners moaned and fell. The floor shook and cracks raced along the wall. Mori winced and also covered her ears, and the shriek kept flowing, rising to an impossible pitch, so shrill Treale thought her eardrums might rip.

When finally the shriek ended, Treale turned to face the cell door. She raised her club. Outside in the hall, a shadow was stirring.

Stars of Requiem, be with me.

The torchlight flickered madly outside, casting shadows and red light across the floor. Something was moving in the hall. Snorts rose and a stench like rotten flesh and mold invaded Treale's nostrils. A long shadow fell across the corridor outside the doorway, and the shriek sounded again, so loud Treale fell to her knees and winced and thought her skull might crack.

"Treale," Mori whispered. She trembled against her.

"Be strong, Mori," Treale whispered back. Her heart thrashed and her chest rose and fell. "Whatever walks outside, we will face it."

Was a wyvern crawling in the corridor? No, impossible; wyverns were too large to fit down here. Was it a phoenix? No; she would