A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,50

if she must. Soldiers raced around her, shouting and pointing at the nephilim who swarmed above. Children wept and families rushed into their homes and peered from windows.

Treale kept walking, Mori across her shoulder, the screams of the nephilim shaking the sky.

MORI

The world spun around her.

Mori remembered little of leaving Irys, capital of Tiranor: only the scent of sand, the shriek of beasts above, and Treale carrying her across her shoulders. The young squire was a slight woman, and yet she had carried Mori through the entire city of sprawling squares, cobbled alleys, and throngs of people.

Stars, I'm so thin, Mori remembered thinking in a daze. I'm skin and bones.

Beasts of claws and fangs soared overhead, scuttled down the streets, and cried to the sun. Soldiers ran and somewhere above Solina laughed, flying upon the king of the Fallen, a twisted beast crowned with a flaming halo. Treale was sweating beneath her as they sneaked outside the city walls. The desert sands swirled around the squire's feet, and finally they rested beneath an ancient, smoothed statue of a falcon that rose from the dunes.

"Here," Treale said, reached into her pack, and handed her a waterskin. "Drink."

Sweat, sand, and blood coated Treale, and she panted and wiped damp hair off her brow. When Mori held out her arms to grab the waterskin, they seemed so thin to her, mere twigs compared to Treale's arms. Her hands trembled as she clutched the skin, and Treale had to help her drink. It was good, clear water, the best she had drunk in moons.

"I can't see very well," she said softly. The sun blazed overhead, and shadows fell only when nephilim scudded across it. The world seemed fuzzy and far too bright; it was like looking through sunlit glass.

Treale took a pomegranate from her pack and cracked it open against her knee. She handed half to Mori.

"Your eyesight will improve," she said firmly. "Eat, Mori. Eat and you'll grow strong again."

Her voice didn't waver, but Mori saw tears in the young woman's eyes. She looked down at her pomegranate. Looking at the bright red color helped her focus her eyes, and she blinked a few times. She scooped seeds out and ate them, then closed her eyes and sighed. They were the sweetest, most wonderful, magical things she had ever eaten; they exploded in her mouth and shot healing energy through her. Her body shook with it.

A shadow fell over them. A nephil screeched above and swooped so low, its wings raised sand around them. The creature overshot them and soared over the city ahead, crying to the sun. More followed, a flock of rot and screams, their wings spreading their stench.

"We shall feed on dragon bones!" they screeched. "We shall drink dragon blood! Hail Solina. Hail the Golden Queen!" They beat their wings and swirled across the desert sky. "We are free! We will eat dragon flesh!"

Treale huddled closer to the old falcon statue that rose above them; the sand below and the limestone beak above formed a hollow. Mori pushed herself back and huddled by her friend. She began to shiver.

"How did Solina free the nephilim, Treale?" she whispered. "My books said the Ancients imprisoned them years ago."

The squire placed her arms around her, pulled her close, and held her. She too was shaking. Sand stung the welts on Mori's back, mingling with the pain in her belly and head. She watched as the beasts dived and cried overhead.

"Don't worry about those creatures, Mori," Treale said, holding her. "I'll get you out of this desert. I promise. We're going to fly north to a beautiful forest, and we'll find lots of food there, and we'll live there together." Her tears fell. "I promise. Do you believe me?"

Though Mori shook and her own eyes dampened, she nodded.

"Will Elethor be there?" she whispered. "Is Bayrin waiting in that forest too? And Lyana? They're waiting in that forest for us, right?"

Treale hung her head low and said nothing. A tear streamed down her cheek.

Mori bit her lip. "I thought not," she whispered.

With a sniff, Treale raised her head, looked into her eyes, and pulled her into a soft embrace.

"I pray that they live, Mori," she whispered. "But if they're gone… if you and I are the only ones left… then we must survive. We must escape and we must live alone. You understand, right?"

Mori nodded, a lump in her throat. "We will live, Treale. We will get out of this awful place." Her lip trembled,