A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,63

had risen here from the trees; today only one remained standing, its stairs so chipped they would send climbers tumbling.

Bar Luan, Elethor thought. House of ghosts.

They called it a temple; it looked more like a city. Ten thousand people could have lived here, maybe twice that many. Elethor thought the place nearly as large as Nova Vita.

"Go, into the doorways, into the halls!" he shouted. Dozens of doorways filled the walls, leading to chambers and dungeons. They were small passageways built for the Ancients, a people short and slim; the nephilim would not fit through.

Elethor dived toward one doorway, a narrow opening with a lintel shaped as a stone lion. Before he could land, two nephilim swooped and crashed into him, shoving him against cracked cobblestones.

Elethor writhed beneath them. He whipped his tail, hitting one beast. It screeched, deafening him. Again ringing rolled over him; he could barely hear anything else. The second beast bit, driving teeth into Elethor's left shoulder, the one already scarred from wyvern acid. He bellowed, kicked, and rolled. They slammed into a wall, sending it crumbling. The nephil roared, and Elethor beat his wings. He rose ten feet and rained his fire, catching the nephilim before they could rise. They blazed, screeching and kicking, knocking into walls and statues. Stones cascaded and fallen leaves burned.

Elethor looked around him; he could see one last dragon land, shift into human form, and run into a doorway between hanging roots. The rest had either hidden in the ruins or lay dead.

Above the ruins, thousands of nephilim blocked the sky.

Elethor growled, resisting the temptation to fly at them; he still craved to roast Nemes. Instead he shifted into human form and ran toward the doorway.

Nephilim swooped behind him.

Their claws scraped against the cobblestones.

Elethor leaped into the doorway and rolled.

Behind him in the courtyard, the nephilim shrieked. They bit at the doorway. Their claws reached into the darkness, each as long as Elethor's sword. He drew that sword and slashed at them. He cut one finger off—it was longer than his arm—and black blood sprayed him. Their teeth snapped at the doorway, their eyes blazed, and rocks tumbled.

Elethor retreated deeper into darkness. The walls were built of rugged bricks overgrown with moss. The ceiling was low, only a finger's length above his head, and the doorway only five feet tall; the Ancients must have stood hardly taller than children. Elethor walked around a bend, moving out of the doorway's line of sight. When he stepped a few more paces into darkness, he bumped against something soft.

He turned to see two children kneeling in the shadows, a boy and a girl with muddy blond hair. Elethor recognized them as twin children from his camp.

"Aw da monstews outside?" asked the girl; she looked to be about five years old.

Her brother raised a wooden sword. "I'll protect you."

Elethor knelt by the children and examined them for wounds; they were bruised and muddy and scratched, but otherwise unhurt. When he looked behind him, he could no longer see the doorway, but he could still hear the nephilim shrieking. The twins clung to him, one clutching him from each side. They shivered.

Nemes, Elethor thought. His old servant. A Vir Requis. How could a son of Requiem do this?

As the children embraced him, Elethor's head spun with rage. Solina had betrayed him, but she had always been a daughter of Tiranor; this was a stab in the back, and Elethor swore that someday, somehow, he would reach Nemes and slay him.

The nephilim shrieked outside. The temple shook and dust fell from the ceiling. The rage and darkness of an ancient horde howled outside, and Elethor held the twins close, shut his eyes, and struggled to breathe.

BAYRIN

He woke up with a stiff neck, Piri still cuddling against him.

Merciful stars, he thought and sighed. His every part ached, and he had barely slept with the girl clinging to him.

It's an amazing discovery, he thought. A creature for one of Mori's bestiaries—half woman, half leech.

"Up, up!" he said. "It's morning."

He struggled to rise, but Piri only mumbled, scrunched her lips, and wrapped her arms more closely around him. She kept sleeping. For such a slim young thing, she was surprisingly strong, pinning him down.

"Piri Healer!" he said with a groan. "Stars, get off."

The girl was intolerable. Throughout the night, whenever he would crawl away from her, she would snuggle closer, trapping him in her embrace. Whenever he did fall asleep, moments later she would mumble or kick her legs,