A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,14
who had attacked the king, who had fled burnt to her desert home.
Lyana snarled, pulled back from Elethor's embrace, and drew her sword.
"It's Solina!" she repeated, louder this time, loud enough for the hall to hear. "She killed Orin. And I will kill her."
The hall erupted in cries. Father and his men, warriors clad in steel, called for vengeance. Mother called for calm. Only Elethor stood silent, face pale and mouth open.
King Olasar stood, his unconscious daughter in his arms, and raised his voice.
"Silence!" he thundered. Pain filled his eyes, but he narrowed them and stared upon the hall. Mori hung in his arms, head tilted back, blood trickling. The hall fell silent; all eyes stared at the king. Lyana stood panting, sword drawn, grief like a talon clutching her.
The king turned his dark eyes toward Lyana's mother. The priestess stared back, blood smearing her white robes, her eyes huge and haunted.
"Adia," said King Olasar, "take my daughter to the temple. Heal her. Let her sleep. And Adia… prepare the temple for wounded. Many wounded." His jaw was tight. "And for the dead."
Adia nodded, face pale but strong. She walked forward and took Mori from the king's arms. Carrying the girl, she left the hall, robes sweeping behind her. Lyana watched the two leave, throat tight. She knew what this blood meant, this tremble in Mori's voice, the shame in her eyes.
They raped her. They will do the same to me if they can. Her eyes stung and her throat felt so tight she could barely breathe.
Next King Olasar turned to Lyana's father. Deramon stared back, eyes dark under his bushy red brows, his heavy hands upon his weapons. He stood clad in steel and leather, every inch a warrior, but Lyana saw the fear and pain that lurked behind his scowl. Father is as scared as I am, she knew.
"Lord Deramon," said the king, "prepare the City Guard. Summon every last man from your barracks, all one thousand. Man the walls and patrol the skies. Protect Nova Vita."
Deramon bowed, one hand on his sword's hilt, the other on his axe. His armor creaked.
"My king," he said gruffly. "It will be done."
With that, Deramon turned and marched out of the hall. His soldiers followed, armor clanking. Soon Lyana heard them shift outside—their wings thudded, and their howls shook the palace. She saw them take flight outside the windows, great dragons blowing fire.
Only Lyana and Elethor now remained before the king. The young prince had not spoken yet. He was pale and his fists shook at his sides. Lyana knew what he was thinking. He was thinking of her. The woman he loved. The woman whose parents King Olasar had slain. The woman who, Lyana knew, now marched against them. Solina, bane of Requiem, forever a curse upon this place.
She knew Olasar was thinking the same thing. The king was staring at his son, the younger prince, now heir to his throne.
"Elethor," the king said, and for the first time his voice was strangely soft. "Sit upon this throne until I return. You rule in Nova Vita in my absence."
Still pale and silent, Elethor nodded. As the king walked across the hall, Elethor approached the throne and sat, eyes staring at nothing, fists still clenched at his sides. A tear streamed down his cheek.
"My king!" Lyana said as Olasar walked by her. "How shall I serve you?"
Olasar paused and stared at her, and Lyana lost her breath. She saw such pain in Olasar's eyes, such grief and rage and terror, reflections of her own turmoil. Olasar's lips trembled only slightly, and his brow remained strong, his jaw squared.
"You will fly at my side, Lady Lyana," he said, voice soft. "We call the banners. We summon the Royal Army. And we fly south. We fly to war."
Lyana sucked in her breath. Not since the war thirty years ago had the Royal Army—five thousand warriors led by the king and his knights—flown to war.
Orin. My love. My eternal prince. Tears stung her eyes, but she bowed her head. She gritted her teeth, grief and rage like ice and fire crashing inside her.
"To war," she whispered.
They marched across the hall, boots echoing against the tiles. Around them between the columns, Lyana saw thousands of dragon wings and blasts of flame. When they reached the hall's end, the gatekeepers bowed and opened the doors, revealing Nova Vita. Deramon's guardsmen ran between the birches, shifted into dragons, and took flight.