Free Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) by Daniel Arenson

been like a shadow that
day, darting in and out of the tent where the two leaders spoke; she
had served ale and meat, washed sore feet, and mostly listened. Even
today, she remembered the moment Chieftain Oritan had looked at her,
had met her eyes when taking a mug from her. He had nodded subtly. He
had acknowledged her. Whenever Laira would accidentally make eye
contact with a warrior of Goldtusk, she would earn a beating. But
here a great chieftain, clad in bones and leather, jewelery around
his neck, had met her gaze, had nodded to her! Laira had shed tears
that night after Zerra had refused the union; he had railed that
Goldtusk was strong, that he would not dilute his tribe's worth with
scum from the mountain, and Laira had mourned never seeing Oritan
again.
    Back then I saw a reasonable man, Laira thought. She prayed
that reason still filled Oritan.
    With a shrill cry and wings that blasted back her hair, a massive
ptero emerged from behind the mountain, a beast to dwarf the others.
Gold and red paint covered its wings with circles and coiling lines,
copper rings encircled its neck, and gilt covered its horn. Upon this
lurid beast sat a long-limbed man, his bare chest painted white and
red. An ape's skull hid his head—a helmet of bone. Spears hung
across his back, and he held a golden bow.
    "Chieftain Oritan!" Laira called to him. She lifted her
spear; strings of beads dangled from its tip. "I am Laira, new
Chieftain of Goldtusk."
    His ptero hovered before her, the wind from its wings blowing back
her hair and cloak. Through the sockets of his ape-skull helmet, his
eyes met hers again—those eyes she remembered from years ago, the
eyes that had met hers when no others would.
    He spoke in a deep voice like rolling thunder. "Last our tribes
met, it was Zerra, son of Thagar, the Burnt Man, who ruled the rocs."
    Laira raised her chieftain's old sword. "Now it is Laira,
daughter of Raem. I slew Zerra the Burnt and I wield his sword. Three
years ago, you came to our tribe to forge an alliance. Zerra turned
you down. Now he is dead; now our discussion will resume."
    Oritan's eyes flicked toward the copper dragon who flew at Laira's
side. "So the tales are true; dragons fly in our skies. Has
Goldtusk tamed these scaly beasts?"
    When Jeid spoke, the chieftain's eyes narrowed and his mount hissed
and bucked.
    "No man or woman can tame a dragon, chieftain," said Jeid.
"I am Aeternum, King of Requiem—a nation of dragons. Requiem
and Goldtusk fly together. We would have you fly with us, for a
threat covers this land, drawing nearer, and all who seek to fight
darkness must now bind together."
    The chieftain's ptero snapped its head from side to side, its mouth
clattering open and closed. Its small eyes spun, but Oritan's eyes
remained steady, staring at Laira. Finally the chieftain nodded,
whirled in the sky, and gestured for Laira and Jeid to follow. He
flew toward the mountain, diving to enter one of the eye sockets.
    Laira and Jeid glanced at each other, then followed. The two stony
skulls upon the mountainside stared back at Laira, craggy and
anguished, bitter faces forever fused together. The eye socket gaped
open, so large Laira felt like a mere bird flying through a window.
Jeid close behind, she flew into the mountain, entering a realm of
shadows and light.
    A cavern filled the mountain, a hundred times larger than Requiem's
old canyon in the escarpment. Dozens of pteros perched upon the
walls, clinging to the stone like bats. Torches crackled between
them, and fires burned upon the cave floor. Murals of bison, elks,
lions, and many other animals covered the ceiling; in the flickering
firelight, they seemed almost to race across the stone. Riders of
Leatherwing filled the cave, drinking from clay bowls, praying to
stone idols carved as obese women, and sharpening spears. All turned
to stare and hiss at the roc and dragon entering their domain.
    A massive stalagmite, a hundred feet tall, rose like a tower in the
cave's