A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,42
All lay burnt now, all was fallen.
We are with you, their voices whispered in the darkness, and Mori thought she could feel the warmth of starlight. Always, daughter of Requiem. We fly with you even in your darkest hours.
Mori closed her eyes, tightened her lips, and tried to shift.
Pain racked her body. She trembled. Golden scales began to appear across her. Her limbs began to grow, and claws sprouted from her fingers. Wings unfurled from her back. She could almost imagine the sky of Requiem, all blue and white and cold around her.
The chains bit deep, shoving Mori back into human form.
She sat trembling, head lowered, and coughed and blinked and gasped for breath. She could not stop shaking, and she tasted blood on her lips. Her eyes stung.
"I can't do it," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Gloriae. I want to fly with you. I want to go home."
She shook for long moments, ravaged with pain and weakness. Her skin felt hot; perhaps she was feverish. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe like Mother Adia had taught her: a slow breath in, a moment of healing, a slow breath out. She breathed again and again, letting the air—even the fetid air of this dungeon—flow through her body, soothe her trembling, and ease her pain. She imagined that she breathed the air over Requiem, the sky of her youth, a sky she vowed to find again.
She took one more great breath, filling her lungs, and tried to shift again.
She could see the sky. Clouds trailed across blue fields. Dragons flew there, hundreds of them—blue, green, gold, and a dozen other colors, all undulating on the wind, smoke trailing from their nostrils, wings gliding. She felt her own wings move behind her, and she raised her head, ready to soar.
Once more, the chains bit, and her magic fizzled.
She sat chained and trembling.
She thought of her books from the library of Requiem—books of adventures about brave knights, beautiful maidens, and dragons who flew to distant lands of wonder. She thought of her gowns, her harp, her dolls—the things she could always shift with, draw into herself, extensions of her body and soul.
She thought of these chains, things of cold metal, of pain. They imprison you. They will let you fly.
How long had she lingered here in the dungeon, shackled, wasting away? Several moons? Several years? These chains were parts of her now; she could barely remember a time without them.
They've become extensions of my arms. They've become like steel wings. They are part of me.
She tried to imagine that she'd been born shackled, that she would live and grow old and die in these chains. They were as parts of her as her clothes, as her old books, as her very bones.
They are me. They will shift into me, and I will take these irons into myself.
With a deep breath, she mustered her magic.
Wings thudded from her back.
Scales clanked across her.
With a pain like thrusting daggers, the chains flowed into her body.
Mori screamed.
The walls cracked. Her body ballooned and her head hit the ceiling. The chains snapped from the walls and molded into her, driving like steel demons as her magic spun. Smoke filled her nostrils, and her tail flailed beneath her, and she was a dragon, a frail and thin golden dragon trapped in the cell, freed, unchained, fire in her maw.
Always, daughter of Requiem. We fly with you even in your darkest hours.
Mori shook. She clawed at the door, again and again, until the hinges tore. She was weak, but her claws were still sharp, and the door splintered and tore apart.
Frail and wheezing, the golden dragon tumbled out from the chamber into a hallway. Shouts echoed and boots thudded. Mori could barely raise her head. She looked up to see Sharik rushing her way, a club in his hand.
Always, daughter of Requiem. We fly with you…
She tried to blow her fire; she could muster none. She was so weak. Only sparks left her maw. Sharik reached her, and his club swung, and Mori raised her claws. The jailor howled and Mori once more was flying over Nova Vita, wyverns all around her, as crossbows fired and spears dug into her flesh.
BAYRIN
Bayrin stood in the forest camp, stuffing his supplies into his pack, when Piri Healer marched up toward him, raised her chin, and announced: "Bayrin, I'm flying with you to find the salvanae."
The camp bustled around them. Over a thousand Vir Requis had been hiding here in Salvandos, several