managed to steady his flight, to descend toward the earth. Tash
hung in his claws, limp.
Gently he placed her on
the ground. His heart seemed to clench, and his breath caught. The battle still
raged above them, blood rained, and corpses lay strewn across the field. Vale
released his magic, returned to human form, and knelt above Tash.
"Tash," he
whispered and touched her cheek. She still lived, her breath shallow, her
eyelids fluttering. A hole gaped through her chest, and blood poured down her
belly and soaked her silken trousers.
"I . . . I burned
him," she whispered. "I burned Ishtafel for you, Vale. I . . ."
Tears filled his eyes.
He tore off his shirt and held the cloth to her wound. She winced. Her face was
so pale, turning grey.
"Issari,"
Vale whispered, looking up at the night sky. "Heal her, please. Heal her,
great priestess."
But he could not see
the stars, only the raging dragons and chariots and flames.
"Vale." Tash's
voice shook, so weak. "Hold me. Don't leave me. Don't look away."
Tears falling, he held
her in his arms, cradling her shivering body. "I'm not leaving you, Tash.
Never. I promise."
She coughed weakly,
reached up, and touched his cheek. "I love you, Vale Aeternum. And I'm
sorry for what I've done. I'm sorry."
"You are
forgiven," he whispered. "I love you too. I always did. I always
will."
"Fight for them,
Vale. Lead them home. To Requiem."
She was growing so cold
in his arms, and her blood would not stop pouring. "You will fight with
me! I will heal you. The Priestess in White will heal you. I—"
"No." Tash
shook her head. "I'm no daughter of a great dynasty. I'm no heroine. I'm
just a woman who loves you, who loves our home across the sea. I will see
Requiem again, Vale. I can see her already." Her eyes shone, and she
stared skyward. "She's up there, Vale, a Requiem all in starlight, and her
harps are calling me home." Her tears streamed. "I will find our sky.
I fly to it now."
"No, Tash."
His tears splashed her cheeks, and he kissed her lips. "Don't leave us.
Don't leave me. I love you."
"This is a good
way to die," she whispered. "In your arms. I will always be with you,
Vale. Always. In your heart and in your stars."
Her eyes closed, and
her breath died upon his kiss.
Vale held her close
against him, rocking her, her head against his chest. A sob shook his body.
I love you, Tash. I
love you. Goodbye, daughter of Requiem. Goodbye.
MELIORA
They're too
many.
Meliora fought across
the sky, her dragonfire down to mere spurts, her silvery scales cracked. Her front
foot—a hand in her human form—was ravaged, dripping, blazing with an inferno.
Too many seraphim .
. . we cannot beat them.
The dragons had crossed
the wall and were flying over the wilderness now, but countless chariots of
fire kept attacking, flying in from every direction, culling the dragons. Every
heartbeat, another Vir Requis lost his or her magic and tumbled down through
the night. Ishtafel had murdered sixty thousand Vir Requis last time Meliora
had rebelled; now he would slaughter them all.
"Dragons,
fly!" she called out. "Fly with me, faster! Fly north!"
Yet Requiem lay so many
miles away; it would take weeks of flight to get there, and the seraphim would
harry them every mile.
We'll all die long
before we reach the coast, Meliora knew. Even as dragons. She
snarled. Then let me die giving the others hope. Let me kill as many
seraphim as I can, even if only a handful of dragons escape. That handful will
rebuild a nation.
She charged into
battle, flying across the rim of the camp, tearing into the ranks of attacking
seraphim. Lucem roared at her side, a red dragon, his fire still flowing. Elory
fought with them, scales chipped and bleeding, but still the lavender dragon
swiped her claws and tail, sending seraphim down dead.
For every seraph
killed, it seemed that a dozen Vir Requis fell, resuming human forms in death.
Men. Women. Children. They fell like rain through the darkness.
The fall of
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