A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,74
rage filled Bayrin, erupting from his nostrils with puffs of smoke. He wanted to slash his claws at the old salvana, to slam him against the mountain, to burn him dead.
When the wyverns attacked, you abandoned us! he wanted to shout. Elethor begged you for aid, and you refused. Look at you now! Look at your dead.
He fumed, unable to speak. Nehushtan only looked at him, tears in his eyes. When Bayrin looked into those great, glittering orbs like crystal balls, his rage faded. Such sadness lived in those eyes, such regret.
I am sorry, those eyes seemed to say to him, and starlight swirled inside them. I am sorry and I will forever mourn.
Hovering in midair, Bayrin snorted smoke and looked aside.
"Nehushtan," he said. "I am Bayrin Eleison, a son of Requiem, and this is Piri Healer, a daughter of our stars. We come on behalf of King Elethor and Queen Lyana. Let us fly into your hall. Let us speak." He looked over the bodies of nephilim that still littered the mountain and forests. "We have much to discuss."
Smoke rose from scattered fires. Ash painted the sky. The stench of rot filled the air. Salvandos burned, and the salvanae above wept, their tears falling as rain to wash the blood and soot. Bayrin thought back to that day eight years ago when Solina had fled Requiem, scarred and screaming of vengeance. Now that vengeance burned the world.
Nehushtan turned and began flying around the mountainsides, and Bayrin and Piri followed. Upon the western slope, they found more bodies, blood, and rot. Hundreds of nephilim lay dead upon the foothills like great insects swept down a river. A great hole loomed open in the mountainside, its rim showing the marks of claws and teeth. The mountain was not solid, Bayrin saw, but hollow; through the hole, he saw salvanae coiling among orbs of floating light. They seemed to fill the mountain like ants filling a hive.
Beard flowing like a banner, Nehushtan coiled through the air, flew into the hole, and vanished into the mountain. Bayrin glanced at Piri, and she looked back, eyes sad. They flew side by side, heading over the bodies and through the gaping hole. They entered the hall of Salvandos.
The mountain's innards loomed around them, a cavern the size of a city. Glowing orbs floated through the hall, casting their light upon golden walls and burrows. The place indeed seemed like a great hive; salvanae coiled through the air, flowing from and into round passageways. Far below upon a polished floor, a pile of nephilim lay dead and burnt between fallen boulders. Several dead salvanae lay around them, torn apart.
Nehushtan flew upward and crashed between a cluster of floating orbs, sending the balls of light flying. Bayrin and Piri flapped their wings, rising after him. He led them to a wall of pods like a honeycomb. Thousands of the alcoves covered the wall; the heads of salvanae peeked from some, their eyes blinking and their beards hanging.
Nehushtan hovered before one pod. He turned to look at Bayrin and Piri and nodded.
"You will spend the night here," the old priest said. "Inside you will find sweet fruit and sweet water, and you will rest." His lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth, and his brows pushed low; suddenly his face was terrible, a mask of rage. "And tomorrow, children of Draco… tomorrow you will fly with the hosts of Salvandos. Tomorrow we will fly to blood and death and song. Tomorrow we fly to war."
With that, the true dragon flew away into shadow.
The entrance to the pod was round and narrow; it could perhaps fit a slim and long salvana, but not a bulky dragon of Requiem. Bayrin clung to the opening with his claws, shifted into human form, and climbed in. He looked over his shoulder to see Piri do the same.
The pod was long, round, and narrow—a cozy little nook. Standing here in human form, Bayrin felt like a small forest critter nesting in a hollow log. Fresh leaves carpeted the floor, and the walls were carved of smooth stone. In the back lay clear, round vessels holding fruits, wine, nuts, and leafy greens. At first Bayrin thought these made of glass, but when he lifted a sphere, it burst and spilled berries into his hands.
Bubbles, he thought and began to eat. The berries too burst when he ate them, spilling juice down his throat. He began tearing into the other bubbles and feasting.