A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,51

doors to the Abyss, this dark lair of secrets deep below Requiem, began to creak open.

Lyana shuddered and gritted her teeth. Iciness stung her fingertips and roiled her belly. She would never admit it, of course. She was a soldier. A heroine of Requiem. She must show strength, especially now, especially to Elethor. And yet as the doors creaked open, revealing mist and shadow, cold sweat washed her.

She did not know what she was expecting. Demons to attack? Rotting bodies to lunge at all? Soon the doors were opened wide, and she saw nothing but shadow, smoke, the glimmer of smooth stone walls. That was all. Just a tunnel. And yet this darkness filled her with more fear than skeletons or demons would. She could kill skeletons or demons, smash them with her sword, beat them down, defeat them with all her skills of war. It was the darkness she feared. The secrets. The unknown.

"Are you sure you're all right, Lyana?" Elethor asked, standing at the doorway. "You're pale, and your fingers are trembling."

She snorted and shoved by him.

"Out of my way, Elethor." She drew her sword. "I'm going in."

She walked through the archway, sword drawn in one hand, tin lamp in the other. She delved into the darkness.

The chill filled her bones. Mist swirled around her legs. As she walked, her boots clanked, echoing like the laughter of demons. Her lamplight flickered against smooth walls carved by old streams. The floor curved steeply, forcing her to move slowly. The tunnel plunged into darkness like a giant's gullet. She kept listening for enemies, but heard nothing—no grunts of beasts, no scuttling feet, no screeches of ghosts.

There is nothing here, she told herself. No demons. No skeletons. She clenched her jaw and held her sword high.

Bring me strength, Levitas, she prayed to her sword as she walked. It was an ancient weapon, its blade engraved with coiling dragons, its pommel shaped as a claw. Her father traced its lineage back to Terra Eleison, a knight of Requiem who'd survived the griffin war, helped found Nova Vita, and restored their house to glory. Many Vir Requis today carried longswords, heavy weapons for both hands; Elethor carried one at her side, the old blade Ferus. Lyana's sword was shorter, faster, easy to wield in one hand; the weapon of a knight.

Your sword was ancient even then, Father had said when giving her the blade five years ago. It had defended Requiem for centuries and slain many of her foes. Lyana tightened her fingers around the leather grip. Under the sky, she fought with claw and fire, a dragon roaring her fury. Here she would wield this ancient shard of steel.

May Levitas defend me underground, she thought, in darkness, far from the sky of Requiem. Shine bright, Levitas. Shine bright, for the world is full of more darkness than I can bear.

They kept walking down the tunnel. Lumps rose upon the walls like warts. When Lyana touched one, she found it clammy. She imagined herself walking through the veins of some great beast of stone, and she shuddered. She held her lamp out at arm's length, but could see only several feet ahead.

A screech filled the darkness.

Lyana froze, panting. She raised her sword.

"What was it?" she whispered. A shiver ran through her.

Elethor stood frozen by her side, his own sword raised. He stared ahead, but the darkness nearly swallowed their lamplight. They saw nothing. Silence filled the tunnels.

"I don't know," he whispered. "Was it the Starlit Demon?"

Lyana squared her jaw. "If it is, we will tame the beast. Come, we go farther."

They walked five more steps before the screech sounded again.

It was so loud, Lyana grimaced. She nearly dropped her sword and lamp to cover her ears. The tunnels shook and a crack ran along a wall. Many feet pattered in the distance, clanking, scratching. The screech went on and on, rising and falling, a banshee cry. Lyana's insides trembled and she could barely breathe. A ghostly light glowed ahead and shadows scurried.

"Stay by me, Lyana," Elethor said, hand clutching his sword. Sweat beaded on his brow.

Keeping her eyes on the tunnel ahead, Lyana laid down her lamp and drew her dagger. She held both blades before her, ready to fight whatever enemy approached.

A shadow lurched.

A creature emerged from the darkness.

Lyana grimaced. Her heart burst into a gallop, and cold sweat flooded her.

With a screech, the creature scuttled forward on many legs. It looked like a great centipede, many feet long and wide as