the mountains later, and then I can fly and carry you."
Mori nodded, head spinning. Treale let her drink some more; there were only a few sips left, and Mori left the last one for Treale, yet the squire insisted that she was not thirsty. They nibbled on more bread and cheese as night fell. The sun dipped behind the horizon so fast here in Tiranor, not a slow melting sunset like the northern ones of Requiem, but a plunge into darkness. The stars emerged overhead, piercing bright, millions of them. The Draco constellation shone in the north—the stars of their home.
"Can we sleep a little, Treale?" Mori whispered. "I'm so tired. So tired. Can we sleep just for a little?"
Treale nodded. Nothing but leagues of sand surrounded them, but thankfully the wind lay low, and the dunes did not swirl. Treale laid out her cloak, lay down upon it, and Mori lay beside her.
With the sun gone, it grew very cold very fast. The day had been so hot, and sweat had drenched the two women, and the sun had burned their skin. Now it felt like winter, and Mori shivered. She clung to Treale, sharing her warmth. Weariness tugged on her as tightly as chains.
"Mori?" Treale whispered. "Do you remember my canopy bed in Oldnale Manor, the one we'd sleep in as children? Remember how we'd hide under the blankets, pretend it's a palace, and read books? Let's pretend we're sleeping there now."
Mori smiled, remembering that great bed with its oak posts, soft mattress of feathers, and woolen quilts. She imagined that she lay there again, and slowly the beating of her heart eased.
"Thank you, Treale," she whispered. "Thank you for coming for me."
They slept embraced, their breath mingling.
They woke to a dawn of shrieks and rot.
Mori opened her eyes and shivered. She had not expected to sleep this long, yet the morning rose around her, and she still lay by Treale. The desert shook around them. Nephilim swarmed above, their wings tossing the sand into clouds. Mori coughed; the sand entered her nostrils and mouth. Treale woke at her side and coughed too, and they could barely see through the sandstorm. The shadows of the nephilim shot overhead, wings beat, stench flared, and shrieks cracked the air.
"We seek dragon blood!" they howled. "We will find the dragons, and we will feast! We fly to blood and organs and sweet marrow. We rise, we rise!"
Mori and Treale lay huddled together. The sand rose and stormed around them. The horde seemed to swarm forever, blasting their faces and fluttering their hair and cloaks with beating wings. Finally the last nephil disappeared overhead, leaving the sand and stench to settle. Globs of nephil drool and pus littered the desert like boils upon patchy skin.
Mori rose to her feet and stared north. Her heart thrashed against her ribs, and her legs shook. She shielded her eyes with her palm and stared after the dwindling nephil army.
Stars, she thought and her breath quickened.
"Treale!" she said. "Treale, they… they seek dragons!"
The young squire pushed herself to her feet. Sand filled her long black hair, painting it yellow. She shook that hair and patted sand off her tunic.
"I heard!" she said. "Bloody stars, trust me, I heard; they've been screaming about that for two days now. That's why we're walking in human forms, isn't it?"
Mori wheeled toward her, and a smile spread across her face. She grabbed her friend's shoulders. "But Treale! Don't you understand? How did I not see this earlier? If they seek dragons, that means others still live! More Vir Requis survived, not just you and me!"
She trembled and panted, still grinning. Bayrin! Bayrin might be alive! And my brother Elethor, and my friend Lyana, and maybe more—many more.
Of course, if they did live, they were in grave danger. Solina had summoned these new beasts to hunt them—just like she had summoned the wyverns and phoenixes. But still, they could be alive. That filled Mori with such joy that she lifted her chin and began walking again, not even waiting for Treale.
"Mori!" Treale said behind her. "Wait up. Mori!"
But Mori would not wait. She kept walking, head high, biting her trembling lip.
They're alive. I know it. They have to be. Otherwise Solina would never have sent these beasts to find them.
Treale rushed up beside her, buckling her cloak and tossing her pack across her shoulders. They walked through the sand, stepping around the globs of nephil drool.
"Mori, please," Treale said. "I… I