A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) Read online

  What if soldiers had found the woman, friend to the Resistance? What if Lana now languished in a prison or lay dead?

  Kaelyn stared ahead. The gates of Castra Draco rose only yards away.

  We'll have to escape on our own, Kaelyn decided and sucked in her breath. Yet how could she? She marched among thousands. She and Rune moved in flawless formation, their boots thumping with the others in a perfect beat. If they fled now, they would be seen. They would be caught. They—

  There!

  A shadow appeared upon a roof.

  Kaelyn sucked in her breath, and hope sprang in her chest.

  The silhouette of a woman stood above, clad in leggings, tall boots, and a fluttering cloak. In one hand, she held a banner; her other hand rested on the pommel of a saber. The clouds parted, and moonlight caught her standard, illuminating a two-headed dragon, sigil of House Aeternum. The pale light shone upon the woman too, revealing mocking lips, a mask with only one eye-hole, and long black hair with a single white streak.

  Lady Lana Cain, Kaelyn thought. My dearest friend.

  "Soldiers of Cadigus!" the lady shouted from the roof and raised her banner high. "King Relesar Aeternum returns! See his banner. Hear his call. Requiem—may our wings forever find your sky!"

  Chaos erupted.

  The troops below spun toward the roof. Officers shouted orders. Soldiers shifted into dragons, armor morphing into scales, swords into claws.

  "Death to the tyrant!" Lady Lana cried above, laughing and waving her flag. "Death to Cadigus!"

  With that, the masked woman shifted and soared. A black dragon with a white stripe across her back, she vanished into shadows.

  All around Kaelyn, officers shouted and pointed at the roofs. Dragons took flight. Fire spewed from maws, lighting the night. Cries and roars rang.

  Rune stood staring, frozen in place. Kaelyn grabbed his arm and tugged him.

  "Come on, you woolhead!" she said.

  She pulled him away from the chaos and into shadows, praying no eyes were watching. But it seemed everyone was busy shouting, flying after Lana in dragon form, or watching the commotion—including Rune, who was still sneaking glances toward the rooftops.

  "Come on!" Kaelyn said, tugging him.

  They slunk into an alley, leaving the brigade and disappearing into shadows. Kaelyn began to scurry deeper into the darkness, her boots now silent upon the cobblestones. She pulled Rune with her. The sounds of the boulevard faded into a muffled storm.

  A hundred yards into the alley, Kaelyn found a moldy barrel. She drew her dagger, loosened the barrel's lid with her blade, and pulled it free. She stood on tiptoes and gazed inside. Rotten turnips festered there, rustling with bugs.

  "Bloody stars," Rune muttered and lifted his helm's visor. "Did she have to use rotten turnips? Why not a barrel of strong ale, or— Ow!"

  Kaelyn kicked his leg hard. "Quiet, Rune, and help me dig."

  Standing on her toes, she reached into the barrel and rummaged through the rotten tubers. Bugs scurried around her fingers, and she thanked the stars that legionaries wore thick leather gloves. Rune rooted around beside her, grimacing.

  "Disgusting," he said. "I think I felt a rat in there. Or maybe a turnip that's gone fuzzy."

  "Quiet!" Kaelyn whispered and reached elbow deep. She rifled around, then smiled. "There! I feel it."

  She gripped her catch and pulled, fishing out a bundle of leather. She brushed it clean, placed the bundle on the ground, and unwrapped it.

  She revealed parchment placards, each about a foot long. Her eyes dampened.

  Each poster displayed the sigil of House Aeternum—a two-headed dragon wreathed in leaves of birch, the holy tree of Requiem. Above the dragon's heads, inked in silver, appeared the constellation Draco—the stars of Requiem. Letters too were drawn upon each scroll:

  "Relesar Aeternum, true king of Requiem, reigns in the south. Join the true king! Death to Cadigus!"

  Beneath this, in smaller script, appeared the Old Words of Requiem, the forbidden prayer that priests had sung for thousands of years.

  "Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."

  Rune stared at the posters and tapped his chin.

  "Not bad," he said. "Lana did a decent job, though she could have added something about how I'm also breathtakingly handsome."

  Kaelyn sighed. "We're here to spread the truth to the empire, Rune, not inundate the people with more lies." She grabbed a sheaf of posters. "Now lift half of them! It'll be a long night."

  "I don't understand," Rune said as he stuffed placards into his pack. "Why wouldn't we just sneak into this city at night? Why bother seeing your father speak and marching down the streets? We could have just come to this alley in the first place." He shuddered. "Oh stars, Kaelyn, the rally… the men he breaks… And we just stood there and watched."

  Kaelyn sighed, rolling up posters and shoving them into her own pack.

  "We needed to be there," she said softly. "We need to see, hear, and shout his evil. We need to know the full rot of his soul." She lowered her head, still seeing those broken bodies upon the wall, and when she looked up at Rune, she saw them haunting his eyes too. "One must grasp the depth of evil before one can fight it."

  When they'd packed all the posters, they crept back to the alley's mouth. Kaelyn heard nothing. The boulevard seemed barren. All the soldiers had either entered Castra Draco or flown in pursuit of Lana.

  "Fly high, Lana," Kaelyn whispered and looked up at the sky, as if she could see her friend flying there. "Fly far. Thank you."

  Her eyes stung. She knuckled them, tightened her lips, and stuck her head outside the alley. She peered from side to side. Seeing no one, she grabbed Rune and pulled him out into the street.

  "Now come on," she whispered to him. "We're just two soldiers on patrol, part of the Flaming Eye Brigade. Curfew is on, the rally is over, so these streets should be quiet. If anyone stops us, we're just doing our rounds, and Castra Draco has our names to prove it."

  They began to walk, moving away from the fortress. Kaelyn had grown up in this city; she'd spent sixteen years here before fleeing her father's rod and wrath. She knew these streets like the scars her father had given her. After walking several blocks, they reached a wide brick building. Smoke plumed from its four chimneys, and the scents of wine, ale, and roasted meats wafted. Behind the stained-glass windows, she saw the shadows of men moving, and she heard them singing hoarse drinking songs.

  "The Green Duck," she said. "A favorite alehouse among the soldiers."

  Rune raised an eyebrow. "The Green Duck? This is Nova Vita, heart of the Cadigus Regime. I figured alehouses here would have names like The Tavern of Steel, The Goblet of Glory, or Frey's Firkin. Something more… imperial."

  Kaelyn allowed herself a wan smile. "This tavern predates my father's regime. He did rename Lynport after himself—and about half the other towns in the kingdom—but soldiers have been drinking in the Green Duck for two hundred years. If he changed this name, he'd truly have a rebellion on his hands." She patted Rune's cheek. "You owned a tavern; you know how soldiers are with their drink. Now quickly—help me with a poster!"

  She looked around furtively. The street was empty. The soldiers inside the tavern were singing raucously. Kaelyn unrolled a poster, and Rune opened a bottle of glue. Within an instant, the poster bedecked the tavern's outer wall; it would greet anyone come to drink.

  "Relesar Aeternum, true king of Requiem, reigns in the south. Death to Cadigus!"

  Kaelyn grabbed Rune's arm and tugged him.

  "Now come on! We have many more posters to hang, and the night won't last forever."

  He walked after her, wincing. "Kaelyn, your fingers have bruised my arm by now—and that's with me wearing armor!"

  She glared at him. "If we're caught, you'll have more than bruises. Hurry. And be quiet."

  They walked down the silent street. Torches stood in palisades, lighting the night. Dragons flew in patrols above, blasting streams of fire
that crisscrossed the night. Every few blocks, they encountered more soldiers. Most were other pairs on patrol, their rank low and their faces hidden behind helms; they did not spare Kaelyn and Rune a glance. On one street, they passed an officer; he bore two red spirals upon each shoulder, denoting him a dialanse, a young officer two or three years out of the academy.

  "Hail the red spiral!" Kaelyn and Rune said, standing at attention and saluting.

  The officer regarded them, gave a lazy salute, and kept walking down the street. His legs wobbled. This one was drunk.

  If my father caught an officer wandering the streets in his cups, he'd have the man flayed, Kaelyn thought. But for now, she had more pressing concerns than the fate of a young commander. She kept marching down the streets until she and Rune neared the amphitheater.

  It loomed before them, a great ring of stone, large enough to seat fifty thousand souls. Her father used to force Kaelyn to come here, sit in the upper tiers, and watch prisoners fed to lions and wolves. Frey rarely hanged or beheaded his enemies; to him, death was a show, a horror to celebrate. Frey was not a man for the noose or the axe, killings too quick for his liking. He lusted for disemboweling, for quartering, for flaying, for feeding flesh to wild beasts. And he delighted in sharing his love with his children.

  Shari always loved the executions, Kaelyn remembered. Her sister herself had once broken a man upon the wheel, grinning as she swung the hammer.

  Her knees began to shake, and sweat ran down Kaelyn's back. For a moment, the past pulsed too powerfully, memories of her family torturing its enemies… and torturing her. She too had felt their lust for blood. Her flesh still bore the scars of Shari's blades, of Frey's punisher, of the joy they took in beating her.

  Only Leresy never hurt me, she remembered. He always cried when Father and Shari beat me. He always comforted me afterward.

  But of course, her twin brother too enjoyed his bloodshed. Leresy would watch in fascination as beasts tore into flesh. He would stay up all night, reading books of old battles. He would collect torture instruments in his chambers like some men collected statues.

  But he never hurt me, Kaelyn remembered. I'm his twin. He sees me as part of himself. And he loves himself more than anything.

  "Kaelyn?" Rune whispered. "Are you all right?"

  She looked at him. He was watching her in concern.

  "No," she whispered. "None of this is all right. But we will make it right. Grab a poster."

  Kaelyn kept guard, glancing around with her hand on her sword, while Rune glued a poster to the amphitheater's wall. They moved onward, two soldiers on patrol.

  We don't have much time, Kaelyn thought. When the first posters are seen, dragons will swarm. This city will burn.

  "Hurry," she said to Rune.

  They kept moving. Kaelyn no longer sought buildings of importance; that was taking too long. Every shadowy wall she passed, she pasted another placard. They moved from street to street. Their bundles of posters dwindled. Soon they were down to twenty or fewer.

  They left the wide, clean streets of northern Nova Vita behind, heading south into the slums. Here the houses rotted. Here beggars huddled in alleys, peering with frightened eyes, then scurrying into hiding as they saw Kaelyn and Rune. Stray cats stretched on roofs and rats scuttled in gutters.

  "You want to raise this place in rebellion too?" Rune asked, looking around dubiously. "I thought you wanted to target lords and soldiers to rise up against Cadigus, not the poor."

  Kaelyn smiled softly. "Great rebellions rarely begin with soldiers or lords; they rise from among the poor and hungry."

  They walked between crowded, dilapidated buildings. Shop awnings touched above their heads, turning alleyways into corridors. The houses here had no glass windows like the abodes of the wealthy, only wooden shutters. Nightsoil flowed in gutters, and bugs scurried along the cobbled streets.

  "Here," Kaelyn said and pointed at a wide, brick building. "This place. Let's hang one here."

  It was the largest house in the neighborhood, but it nestled into shadows, hiding from the city. Laughter rose from within, and candlelight burned behind the curtains. A sign hung above the door; it read "The Bad Cats" and featured two cats licking their paws.

  Rune squinted at the building. "What is this place?"

  A door burst open, and a woman stumbled into the alleyway, squealing and laughing. She clutched scarves of silk to her naked body, and her hair hung wild across her shoulders.

  "Come back here!" rose a man's voice from within, thick with ale and lust. "I paid good coin for you. Back in!"

  The woman laughed, saw Rune and Kaelyn, and forced her mouth shut. She winked, held a finger to her lips, and rushed back inside.

  "Oh," Rune said. "We had one of these places in Lynport."

  He thought back to Lynport's brothel along the boardwalk. The Cadigus family had burned it down years ago, killing all those inside. Only one person had fled the inferno: a young girl with short brown hair and blazing eyes. Her name was Erry Docker; she had spent the following years living on the beach, eating crabs and whatever she could steal.

  Kaelyn nodded. "My father does not approve of brothels; he calls the men who visit them weak. Yet he accepts some sins if they remain unseen. He allows this place to linger in the shadows to please his generals."

  Rune raised an eyebrow. "You mean… the generals of the Legions visit a brothel in a slum?" He gestured around him at the rats and gutters. "They visit this place?"

  Kaelyn smiled wanly. "As often as they can. I sometimes think this is the heart of the Legions, not Castra Draco. Here they are not generals; they are men thirsty for ale and hungry for women. Let these men see our posters. Let them know that you've returned. We'll hang one right on the door."

  Kaelyn pulled a poster from her pack, walked into the alley, and faced the brothel's door. Candlelight glowed through the windows, and laughter and squeals rose. From the upper floor, she heard huffing and a cry of pleasure.

  These patrons love freedom, laughter, and good cheer, she thought. They might join our cause.

  She unrolled the poster, smeared glue across it, and raised it to the door.

  Before she could hang the parchment, the door swung open.

  Kaelyn gasped.

  The young man at the doorway rubbed his bleary eyes. His cheeks were flushed with wine, and he wore fine fabrics of crimson and gold. His fingers, heavy with rings, struggled to unlace his pants. Laughter rose behind him, and women called him to return to their bed.

  "Hang on!" the young man called over his shoulder. "I got to piss, damn you. Don't put your clothes on, hang on!" He turned back toward the alleyway and took a step outside, nearly bumping into Kaelyn, then squinted at her. "Hello… do I know…"

  He gasped and his hands fell to his sides.

  "Leresy," Kaelyn whispered.

  My twin brother. Prince of Requiem.

  He stared at her, frozen.

  "Kaelyn?" he asked, voice rising incredulously.

  With a snarl, Kaelyn drew her dagger and thrust it forward.

  Leresy screamed. He stumbled backward. Kaelyn was aiming for his neck, but sliced his cheek instead. His blood spilled and he squealed. He drew his sword and barreled forward.

  "The Resistance!" he shouted. "Enemy in the alley! Men! Guards! Guards!"

  Kaelyn cursed. She tried to stab him again, but he was waving his sword wildly. Soldiers came rushing to the door from within, drawing their own swords.

  Rune grabbed her arm and tugged.

  "Run, Kaelyn!" Rune shouted. "Fly!"

  They turned. They ran. They shifted into dragons and flew.

  They soared into the night, moving faster than falcons. The air roared around them, and the city dwindled below, its lights spinning and its streets spreading out like cobwebs. Kaelyn laughed and roared fire and her heart thudded.

  "Death to Cadigus!" she shouted, letting her cry ring across the city. "Aeternum rises and Requiem will be freed. The tyrant must die!"<
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  Her heart thrashed and her wings beat mightily. Rune soared at her side. Pillars of flame pierced the night, shooting between them, blazing and crackling and nearly burning her. When Kaelyn looked behind her, she saw a hundred dragons rising in pursuit.

  Leresy flew among them, a red dragon shrieking and blowing fire.

  "The Resistance attacks!" he screamed. "Awake, dragons of Requiem! Awake, Legions! Fly!"

  Kaelyn turned and blasted fire his way.

  Her jet blazed through the night and crashed into her brother.

  "Kaelyn, fly!" Rune shouted and slapped her with his tail. "Don't fight them, just fly!"

  She kept beating her wings. They streamed south. They soared into the clouds, and more flames filled the sky. Dragons swooped from above; Kaelyn and Rune darted between them, swiping their claws. More dragons rose from below. Thousands of flaming jets filled the air.

  Kaelyn darted between the flames. Rune flew at her side. They rose higher and clouds enveloped them. Kaelyn could see nothing but Rune at her side, a black dragon nearly invisible in the night.

  As they flew south, Kaelyn bared her fangs. She felt light fill her and the fire of battle burn her fear. Thousands of dragons chased them. An entire army roared behind, and fires lit the sky, yet Kaelyn grinned as she flew, and she had never felt more alive.

  We struck in the heart of the capital. Now the empire knows Rune is our king.

  The Legions roared behind, washing the world in fire, thousands of beasts with blazing eyes. Kaelyn and Rune flew through the night, leaving the city behind, until forests swayed below and the stars of Requiem shone above, the old gods guiding her home.

  LERESY

  He lay in the brothel bed, his face blazing and his head swimming.

  "More wine!" he shouted and waved around his empty mug. "Damn it, more wine!"

  Wine would dull his performance in this bed. He knew that. But he didn't care. He didn't have to prove anything to anyone anymore. Not to the whores of the Bad Cats, this rundown cesspool. Not to his men. Not to his father.

  "Wine!"

  What he did need was to forget. To forget the blazing wound on his face. To forget his lost fortress.