Pillars of Dragonfire by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ISHTAFEL

He stood on the coast, licked his lips, and watched them flee across the sea into the northern distance.

"Good, Meliora, good," Ishtafel whispered. "Let your hope build. Fly toward your home. Dream of Requiem. Very soon now, just as you think you've grasped your dream in your claws . . . I'll be there to snatch it away." He clenched his fists. "Just as you snatched her away from me."

He cringed in sudden pain, the memories of Reehan filling him. His strong, noble, vicious Reehan—a great light among the immortals. Ishtafel had been fighting for five hundred years, and he had never met a warrior as deadly and proud as his Reehan.

I would have married you, he thought. I would have made you my queen, the mother of my children, and damn the royal blood of my line. He shut his eyes. But they murdered you. The weredragons. They took you from me, my most precious prize.

Ishtafel looked around him at this city on the northern coast of Terra, the hot continent where Saraph had first risen. The city, once a jewel of the empire, lay in ruins around him. Palaces, silos, temples, manors—all lay shattered. Palm trees, vineyards, gardens—all had burned. The slaves of this city had escaped with the reptilian horde, leaving the corpses of seraphim—corpses the harpies were now consuming. The rancid creatures bustled about the ruins like carrion crows, guzzling the dead. Ishtafel had allowed them this meal, a feast before the slaughter. The ichor would strengthen them before the great war to end all wars, the extermination of Requiem.

"I've never loved another soul, Reehan, and I've never met any stronger woman . . . until my sister was born. Until Meliora."

Reehan had fought with him against the weredragons—and fallen. He had thought her strong. Perhaps he had been wrong. Bloodthirsty, rabid, and beautiful, yes—but ultimately not strong enough.

But Meliora . . . his sweet Meliora . . .

Once Ishtafel had thought his sister not even capable of strength—like expecting a kitten to hunt as a tigress. Meliora had always been like a pet to him, a sweet little princess to laugh with, play with in the gardens, to listen to her silly songs and chatterings about butterflies, cupcakes, and fairy tales. He had at first recoiled from Mother's request that he should marry his sister, had agreed only to preserve the royal blood of their dynasty.

"And then . . . then the kitten roared," he whispered.

When Meliora had first defied him, it had surprised Ishtafel, then enchanted him. Suddenly the naive girl had shown her bite, and he had begun to see her not as a mere womb but as a prize to conquer. And when she had revealed herself to be half weredragon, tainted with the very blood of the beasts who had slain Reehan . . .

"I can think of no sweeter prize than you, sweet sister. I can think of no greater joy than fighting you, breaking you, making you pay for all the sins of your people.

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