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

you. Not yet. Not until you join us. I'll carry
you."
    She stepped away from him,
leaving deep prints in the snow, and shifted. Her scales were white
as the snow, but her eyes were black, two pools of night against a
starry field. When she flapped her wings, she scattered snow across
the courtyard, revealing its cobblestones. Smoke plumed from her
nostrils, and fire glowed between her teeth, a single patch of color
in a white and black world. Rune stood before her, chained and
shivering, and she reached out her claws. She lifted him, an owl
lifting a mouse, and flew.
    Wind whistled. Snow swirled
around them. The Citadel dwindled below. Rune watched it shrink
until it looked like a toy, just a pile of blocks white with snow.
The city streets snaked around it, bustling with people, thousands of
men and women and children all going about their lives. Thousands of
souls who cared not for his war. Thousands of souls who knew him as
an outlaw, a killer, a beast to be tortured.
    They flew over the streets, the
city arena, and a dozen towering statues of Frey. They flew toward a
fortress with black towers, a place Rune had only seen once in
darkness.
    "Castra Draco," he
whispered. "Bastion of the Legions."
    The Legions had many forts
across the empire. Some trained recruits. Most housed garrisons of
troops. Some, like the Citadel, housed prisoners, and one—Castra
Academia—trained nobles for leadership. Draco was the heart of them
all. If the Legions were an empire of their own, this would be its
imperial palace. From this place did the generals command.
    Will
she take me there for torture? Rune thought, watching the fortress grow nearer. Will
she place me in another dungeon and in more chains, and will the
whips of her comrades tear my skin?
    Yet when they almost reached the
castle, Tilla banked and descended toward a street lined with tall,
narrow houses. Rune remembered this street. Last year, he had
rummaged here with Kaelyn through a barrel for posters. His heart
twisted at the memory.
    "Kaelyn," he
whispered, and his eyes stung.
    Last year, running and hiding
with Kaelyn through the wilderness, Rune had often found comfort in
thinking about Tilla—remembering her dark eyes, her smooth black
hair, her soft lips, and his childhood spent with her upon the
boardwalk. Hiding with Kaelyn, a wild rebel with flashing eyes, Rune
had sought his comfort with the ghost of an old love.
    Today, clutched in that same old
love's claws, Rune thought of Kaelyn.
    For
so long, Kaelyn, I wanted to escape you, he thought. I wanted
to go back home, back to Tilla, to never see you and Valien and war
again. But now I miss you.
    He missed her eyes rolling at
him. He missed her finger jabbing his chest. He missed the sound of
her groaning at his jokes. And he missed her smile. He missed her
courage, her light that shone in the dark, and her love of life and
home.
    He wondered if she even still
lived. Last time he'd seen the young woman, she had stood upon the
tower of Castellum Acta, dragon wings billowing her golden hair, and
she had cried his name. Had she fled with Valien through the tunnel?
Did she live now in exile, and was she thinking of him too?
    Wings puffed out, Tilla
descended into a side street in the shadow of Castra Draco. Narrow,
three-story houses lined the street, their tiled roofs white with
snow, their gray bricks frosted. She placed Rune down outside one
house, shifted back into human form, and stood beside him.
    Rune stood on shaky feet,
shivering in the snow. He wanted to hug himself, but manacles still
bound his wrists behind his back. Orange light glowed from windows,
and oil lamps flickered along the street, but Rune saw no other
people. Tilla walked toward the house, unlocked the door, and led
him inside.
    "Welcome," she said,
"to my home."
    A cozy room greeted them. An
armchair stood by a fireplace. Leather-bound books stood upon
shelves. Plates of bread, cheese, ham, and fruits stood upon a
wooden table. Tilla stepped