A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,58

and lean. Something about them seemed familiar, though Lyana could not place them.

She growled. "I am Lyana Eleison, Queen of Requiem, and—"

"We know who you are," said the taller, leaner man, the one with the deep voice. "Release your sword."

Both men drew their arrows back farther; the bowstrings creaked. With a grunt and hiss, Lyana released her sword's hilt, letting the blade fall back into its scabbard. The two men stepped forward and grabbed Lyana's arms.

Lyana growled, tugged herself free, and shifted.

She took flight, a blue dragon with fire in her maw.

Below her, the two men shifted too and soared, bronze dragons with long white horns.

"Stars!" Lyana shouted, beating her wings. The grass below swayed, and waves raced along the lake. "You're Vir Requis. How dare you threaten your queen?"

Seeing them as dragons, she finally recognized these two. She had seen them in Requiem's northern mountains; they were brothers and miners of iron ore. The older, taller one was named Grom Miner, she remembered. The younger, squat brother was named Gar.

"We are no longer in Requiem, Lyana Eleison," said Grom; his scales were a slightly deeper shade of copper. "And you are no longer our queen, if indeed you wed the Boy King Elethor in your exile. All titles are forsaken in the ruin of the world, and every dragon is master of himself now. We will take you to our camp, and you will answer to our new lord."

Lyana snarled, and fire flicked between her teeth. These two dragons were burly and long, far larger than her own short, slim form, yet she knew that she could kill them. She was fast. Her fire was hot. Her claws were sharp. She had trained to fight in Castra Draco, garrison of Requiem's fabled Royal Army. These two had perhaps grown strong from digging mines and hauling ore, yet Lyana had slain phoenixes and wyverns, and she could slay these two.

And yet… and yet they were still her kin. They were new survivors when she had thought none existed. She spat her flames into the lake.

"You call yourselves your own masters, fellow dragons of Requiem," she said. "Yet now you speak of serving a new lord. Are you free dragons or servants?"

Gar Miner—the younger brother—spoke for the first time. He was a shorter dragon than his brother, but burlier. He spoke in the high voice of a man just leaving his youth.

"We are free dragons," he said. "Yet we choose to fight for the Legless Lord. You will follow us. You will answer to him, and you will have a choice to serve him too, or you may leave these lands and find your own fortune."

Lyana growled deep in her throat. She had not come here to Osanna for this; she had flown seeking aid from the king of men, and then from the eastern griffins. And yet here hid more survivors of Requiem, perhaps many more. She could not forsake this chance to meet them, to bring them back to Elethor's camp.

"Show me to your lord," she said.

Grom Miner nodded and growled. "We walk. In human forms. We live in Osanna, and the cruel Queen Solina still dares not invade this land, yet we've seen her beasts fly overhead as scouts. We walk hidden. We walk quietly. We will not fly as dragons again."

The bronze brothers descended and shifted back into human forms upon the lakeside. Lyana landed beside them and shifted too.

"Follow," said Grom. He turned and began walking into the forest.

Lyana snarled at him. She was Queen of Requiem; she followed no one. And yet Grom was walking among the trees already, and his younger brother Gar was caressing his bow. Growling, Lyana followed, and the three moved through the forest.

They walked for a long time, and the forest thickened. The oaks grew twisted and tall here. Moss covered the boles and mist floated between them. Back in Salvandos in the west, where Elethor ruled his camp of survivors, the autumn leaves had fallen and covered the forest floor. Here they still grew bronze and dulled gold, metallic and hard and barely rustling. Lichen hung from gnarled branches, brushing against Lyana's cheeks, and the air smelled of loam and stagnant water. She could not see the sky or sun—the canopy was thick as a roof—yet the brothers seemed to know their way. They walked assuredly, boots crunching branches and twigs.

Lyana guessed it was near noon when a stench rose on the wind, twisting her gut. Flies buzzed. With