A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,107

claws and fall, shredded, like burning leaves.

Solina narrowed her eyes and swooped, claws outstretched.

You think yourself clever, Elethor. But you have only doomed yourself.

Where the stone demon had burst from the ground, a chasm loomed, its rims crumbling into darkness. Alongside the cavern walls, Solina saw openings to a dozen burrows. Inside each burrow the weredragons still cowered, fragile humans not daring to fly, even now. She saw only several dragons flying behind the stony demon; the rest were too cowardly to shift and emerge to battle.

But I will bring the battle to them, Solina thought. I spent a moon trying to break into these places… and now, Elethor, you have opened a dozen doors.

She snarled, skirted around the feasting demon of stone, and swooped into the gaping chasm. A dozen burrows surrounded her, running from the chasm walls into darkness. Weredragons wept in their human forms and tried to flee deeper, but their burrows were packed tight; they could either become dragons and fly into the phoenix sky, or die as humans underground.

Men with swords were rushing to each tunnel's entrance, pushing back the women and children. But in one tunnel, a crumbly burrow like a wormhole, only children wept, torn from their mothers' grasps when the demon had crashed through their hideout. Shrieking, her flames crackling, Solina flew toward that tunnel.

The children screamed. Across the crater, men howled inside their own tunnels. A ball of fire, Solina shifted in midair, becoming a woman again. As she flew, she drew her twin blades. She tumbled into the children's tunnel, swords swinging.

Aknur, her left blade of nightfire, halved a young boy's face. Raem, her right blade of dawn, cut a girl from collarbone to navel. The other children were fleeing deeper, tripping over one another, wailing in fear. Solina grinned and walked deeper, blades swinging, showering blood and cutting down the vermin.

I will not let these creatures grow and breed, she thought as she sliced two girls who embraced and wept. I will clear the world of their darkness, Sun God, for your wrath and glory.

She stepped deeper into the tunnel, over bodies and severed limbs, leaving a trail of blood and sunlight.

I will kill them all.

Howls rose behind her. Flames crackled. Solina spun to see a brass dragon fly toward the tunnel she stood in. Solina's grin widened, her heart pounded, and she licked blood off her lips.

"Elethor!" she cried and raised her dripping swords. "You have come to me at last."

ADIA

She stood in the tunnel, comforting a girl whose hands had burned to stumps, when the world collapsed.

The floor cracked, and she watched children fall into the chasm. Boulders fell from the ceiling, crushing people around her. The tunnels shook, dirt rained, and a tower of stone jutted up before her. Great claws, larger than Adia's body, sliced before her. A creature as large as a temple, its eyes blazing beacons, rose before her, leaving ruin and blood in its wake.

As people fell and screamed, Adia thought she glimpsed two dragons—brass and blue—flying after the creature, following it through the tunnel it carved.

The Starlit Demon, she knew. Tears sprang into her eyes. Lyana is alive. My daughter is alive!

As dust flew and stones rolled, Adia clenched her jaw. She wanted to run through the people, shift into a dragon, and fly to Lyana. She forced herself to remain.

This is my station. These are my people to heal.

She moved from one to another, digging them from the rubble. One old man wept, clutching a fractured arm. Beside him a young boy lay, his leg buried under a boulder. How could she heal them all? How could she choose between them—grant death to one, life to the other?

Adia was kneeling over a pregnant woman whose head was bleeding when fire screamed. She looked up and saw phoenixes raining into the chasm the Starlit Demon had left. One phoenix flew to a tunnel that gaped open across the chasm, shifted into Solina, and leaped into a crowd of screaming children. Several other phoenixes swooped toward the tunnel Adia huddled in, shifted into Tiran men with blades and armor, and ran into the throng of survivors.

Adia found herself snarling. The time to hide was over, she realized; they would find no more shelter underground, not with the tunnels collapsing around them. They had to flee. Her heart ached to leave the wounded woman… but Adia left her.

"Vir Requis!" she shouted, running toward the Tirans at the entrance. "Vir Requis, follow! We shift!