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

center. Upon its flattened crest perched a seat carved of
granite inlaid with golden runes. Oritan led his ptero there. The
lanky reptile clutched the stone pillar, allowing Oritan to dismount
and claim his seat; then the ptero flew off to cling to the ceiling
high above. Jeid too flew to the pillar, released his magic, and
landed before the throne in human form. Laira led her own mount to
this seat of power. Neiva clutched the stalagmite, and Laira
dismounted and stood upon the stone tower before Oritan and his
throne.
    "Wait for me outside, Neiva," Laira said softly, stroking
the roc, who still clung to the pillar. "Join the others. I'll
return to you soon."
    Neiva tilted her head and nuzzled Laira with her massive beak, a beak
the size of Laira's entire body. Then the roc turned and left, wings
scattering droplets of oil, and exited the mountain.
    "Speak, Laira, daughter of Raem." Oritan leaned back in his
throne of stone and gold. "Speak of this alliance which your
tribe once spurned. And speak too of this enemy you claim draws near.
And finally, speak to me of these dragons, of this so-called king who
comes into my hall."
    Laira tried to quell her dizziness. This pillar of stone was narrow,
barely large enough to support the throne, her, and Jeid. The cave
walls seemed to spin around her, alight with torches and clattering
with pteros. The animal murals seemed to race above her in a great
hunt, and the murmur of many tribesmen rose from the cave floor far
below. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
    "Demons!" she said. "A host of a thousand demons flies
across the world. They fly from Eteer across the sea. My own father,
king of that southern realm, leads them in conquest." She pulled
from her pack the coiled, severed arm of one of the octopus spawn.
She held it forth. "Here is a single arm from a single demon; a
great swarm of the creatures flies north. All free tribes and
kingdoms of the north must band together now. We must defeat them."
    Within the sockets of his helm, Oritan's eyes narrowed. He leaned
forward in his throne, took the severed demon arm, and examined it.
The arm still twitched, the mouths upon it opening and closing,
snapping their teeth. Disgust mingled with fascination filled
Oritan's eyes as he held the wriggling tentacle.
    "That arm came from a demon babe." Laira's heart twinged to
remember these creatures feasting upon her brother's body; this very
arm had fed upon Sena. "The adults are as large as rocs. And
they're spreading across the land."
    Oritan draped the tentacle across the arm of his seat. He returned
his eyes to her. "Your father leads these demons, you say? A
king of Eteer?" He leaned closer. "Who are you, Laira of
Goldtusk? A chieftain? A princess? A friend to dragons?"
    "I am all those things," she said. "And you know me.
Three years ago, Chieftain Oritan, you came to Goldtusk, and you
spoke to me, though you do not remember me. As you spoke to Chieftain
Zerra, I served you wine and I washed your feet. Zerra offered me to
you, telling you I could warm your bed, but you refused the gift of
my body. You met my eyes once." Her heart beat faster to
remember that moment. "You saw only a servant."
    Oritan inhaled sharply, stared in silence for a moment, then removed
his ape-skull helmet. His face was hard but not unpleasant. His nose
was straight, his lips thin, his jaw square. Dark hair fell across
his brow. He seemed no older than forty winters, and a small scar
marred his left cheek.
    "Yes." His voice was soft, contemplative. "I remember
you, child. I pitied you then. I felt rage at your chieftain for
mistreating you. Your hair was shorter then, your frame more frail,
but I remember your eyes, the large green eyes of those who dwell
across the sea. I indeed looked into them. I thought about them for
long after returning home."
    My mother's eyes, Laira thought. They've always been my
only beauty. His words filled her with a hint of warmth, like a
fire just beginning to rise on a