A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,73

abandon those Vir Requis who still lived beyond the line of battle, cut and broken and tortured by Tiran steel? And yet she walked, head raised, eyes staring ahead. She would pray for those still left behind… pray that death found them quickly.

They walked deeper into darkness and found a corner to huddle in. She sat on the cold ground, Deramon's great arms holding her, and Adia closed her eyes. She could still hear the screams, even down here, and she clenched her jaw so tight, her teeth ached.

Did her children scream like this too? Had the phoenixes caught Bayrin, her firstborn, the son she loved with all her heart? Did the terrors of the Abyss now torture her daughter, the brave and beautiful Lyana, the light of her life? Would her children leave her like Noela?

I should not have let them go! Adia thought, fingernails digging into her palms. I should never have let them leave me! They need me now. They need me to protect them.

"Mother Adia," spoke a soft voice. "Mother Adia, I beg you. My wife, she's… she's giving birth, and… the midwife is in the upper chambers. Please, Mother, can you help?"

Still held in Deramon's arms, Adia opened her eyes. She saw a young man with a wide, pale face. Sweat soaked him and his left arm was wrapped in bloody bandages. Adia stared at him in silence, and for a moment she only thought: What of my children? What of those I gave birth to? Leave me. Your child will die with the rest of them.

She wanted him to leave, and she hated herself for it, and her thoughts scared her more than anything in this darkness.

She rose to her feet.

"Lead me to her," she said. She was still Mother of Requiem, and all the survivors were her children. She would protect them, heal them, comfort them… until the fire consumed them all.

BAYRIN

Dawn rose cold and bleak. Bayrin lay under his cloak, his head on a rolled-up blanket. Mori lay at his side, her cheek upon her hands. She still slept, face pale in the dawn, her hair spread out like a halo. Even in sleep, she seemed fearful; her lips were scrunched, her eyelids were closed tight, and she occasionally winced. Bayrin lay watching her as the sun rose. Her thigh pressed against him, a hint of warmth in the icy forest.

"No, please," she whispered in her sleep, and her legs kicked. "Please, Solina, please, please don't."

Bayrin sighed. He raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, then stroked her hair. It felt soft and smooth, like running his hand over silk. She calmed, her face smoothed, and her breathing deepened.

A deep anger filled Bayrin as he watched her. She was only a thin, pale thing, the last petal of a flower in snow. Bayrin knew of the shame she carried. She had spoken in her sleep of that night, begging for Acribus to release her, begging for the stars to forgive her for her shame.

She's only a child, he thought. Eighteen years old, but so much younger in spirit. How could anyone have done this to her?

With a pain like a dagger in his gut, Bayrin regretted all those years he had taunted Mori, all those times he'd mock her extra finger, tug her hair, and joke of her tears and trembles. It had been easy to roll his eyes at Mori back in Nova Vita, when walls and guards surrounded them, when wars were merely the words of old stories. Here in the wilderness, the phoenix on their trail, he felt ashamed. Careful not to wake her, he kissed her pale cheek. It was cold against his lips.

She mumbled and her brow furrowed.

"Mmmm… Bayrin?" She opened her eyes and blinked. "Did I kick you?"

"You damned near cracked my ribs," he said. "Horse kicks are weaker than yours."

She blinked and kicked his leg. "How's that?"

He feigned a look of pain and let out a long, exaggerated groan. "Oww… my bones are shattered!"

When she smiled sheepishly, eyes lowered, Bayrin couldn't help but feel warmth inside him, like butter melting.

You are my princess, he thought. I might only be a lowly guard, the lesser son of a great house, but I will serve you as best I can.

They rose in the cold morning, breath frosting before them, and wrapped themselves in their cloaks. Snow filled Bayrin's hair and his boots were soggy. Clouds glided across the sky and flurries fell. In their packs they found