Free A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) by Daniel Arenson

have to be this
way," she whispered, her voice choked. She looked at him. "You
can wear armor too, not rags. You can fight with us. For Requiem."
    He looked away from her, leaned
back as far as he could in his chains, and smiled softly. "Do
you remember the mancala board I carved that winter, the one with the
seashell pieces? It was such a cold winter, too cold for the south.
Rain and thunder and wind every day. We sat in the Old Wheel most
nights by the fire. You'd wrap a blanket around your shoulders. And
we'd play mancala and drink ale, and Scraggles would lie at your
feet. Do you remember? We—"
    "Stop it," she said.
    He let his smile widen and
closed his eyes. "And the apple pies my father would bake!
Stars, the whole place would smell of apples, and—"
    "Stop it!" she said,
more vehemently this time, and grabbed his arm. "Rune, those
days are gone. The Old Wheel burned. You know this." Her
fingers tightened and she stared at him. "Our home is gone.
Everything we've ever known is gone."
    He looked into her dark eyes and
shook his head. "You're still here."
    "I am not the woman I was."
    "You are Tilla Rop—"
    "I am Lanse Tilla Siren!"
she said and bared her teeth. "I serve the red spiral. I
follow Frey Cadigus. And so will you, Rune. So will you." She
rose to her feet. "I placed you in the dungeon so you could
hear the prisoners scream, see their blood, and languish in the dark.
And still you did not worship him. So I placed you here, in this
tower, so you could stare at the instruments of torture and imagine
their pain. And still you do not join me."
    "And still you, Tilla, do
not join me," he said. He struggled to his feet, the chains so
heavy, and stood before her. "You can end this. You have the
key. You can flee with me."
    She stared at him coldly, face
blank as always, but something filled her eyes this time, something
cold and afraid. She touched his cheek and whispered.
    "So I will take you to a
third place. And in this place, Rune... you will join us. I promise
you. This place will break you."
    She reached behind him and
unchained him from the wall. She left his wrists manacled, but for
the first time in days, no shackles bound him to the wall.
    She held his shoulder and guided
him toward the door. He walked with small steps. For nearly a moon
now, he'd languished in irons. His chain had been long enough to let
him stand and lie down, but not to walk. Walking now, every step
ached, shooting pain from his toes, up his legs, and down his spine
to the tailbone. He winced and almost fell, but Tilla held his arm,
a gentle jailor, helping him onward.
    The climb downstairs seemed an
eternity. Rune did not count the steps, but there were hundreds,
maybe a thousand. Each one shot more pain through him, and his head
spun. He was too weak, too hungry, too hurt. The guards had kicked
him too strongly. When they finally reached the bottom, Rune panted
and swayed.
    They stepped through the
doorway, past the two guards with the mocking eyes, and into a snowy
courtyard. The walls of the Citadel rose all around them. More
guards stood upon the battlements, faces hidden behind helms. From
within those walls, screams rose, a chorus of a thousand prisoners
mad and beaten and dying. Rune had spent his first week here with
them, and just hearing their screams, he could imagine their
anguished faces.
    "We fly from here,"
Tilla said. "I'll carry you."
    "Unchain me and I'll fly
with you."
    He had tried to shift many times
in his chains, only to find he could not. Whenever he'd summon his
magic, the ancient starlight of Requiem, his body would start to
grow, and wings would start to sprout from his back... and then the
chains would slam him back into human form, leaving him panting and
dizzy. Rune could shift with clothes, with weapons, even with armor;
those were parts of him like his skin. The chains were foreign
objects; they shackled his human form, and they shackled his dragon
magic.
    Tilla shook her head. "I
cannot unchain