Requiems Song by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

TANIN

Whenever Tanin slept, he remembered.

Even here in the forest, his sister sleeping beside him, he thrashed, half-awake, the memories clawing at him, dragging him down to that dark place eleven years ago.

"We have to run," Jeid had said, bursting into the smithy with wild hair and flushed cheeks. "We have to fly."

Tanin had stood at the forge that day, fourteen years old, an apprentice to his father. The brick walls of the smithy rose around him. Upon hooks hung hammers, tongs, pokers, and all the other tools of the trade. A cauldron of bronze bubbled beside Tanin, drenching him with heat, and sweat dampened his hair. He had the mold ready—a sickle for Farmer Gam who grew rye outside the town—and was just about the pour the liquid metal.

"What do you mean?" he asked his father.

He had never seen the old man look like this. Jeid Blacksmith—Grizzly to his children—was always a little disheveled, what with his shaggy hair, wild beard, and rough cloak of fur and leather. But today, for the first time, Tanin saw his father look scared. Tanin had seen Grizzly knock out malevolent drunkards, fight an invasion of a roaming tribe, and even battle a saber-toothed cat with only a simple dagger. But Jeid had never looked scared, and that fear now seeped into Tanin.

"They saw me fly," Jeid said, voice low. "They know. We have to run."

Tanin froze, unable to breathe. He grabbed his hammer.

They know.

From outside rose the townsfolk's cries. "Weredragons! The curse has come to Oldforge. Burn the Blacksmiths!"

Tanin could remember little of what happened next, only the heat of flames, the bite of an arrow in his thigh, the mad faces dancing around him, hundreds of men come to slay him. Maev flew above, a green dragon roaring fire, pelted with arrows. Mother tried to stop the mob; Zerra clubbed her, knocking her down, and the villagers stomped her, dragged her body through the village behind a horse. And blood. Everywhere the blood of men and dragons. A burning child ran between the huts, screaming as the flames engulfed him.

"Fly, Tanin!" Jeid called.

"Tanin, where are you going?" Maev shouted. "Fly!"

But he would not fly. He ran through the village. The arrow protruded from his thigh, and behind him, he heard his own uncle—Zerra, twin to his father—shouting to kill the creatures. But Tanin kept running, limping now, until he reached her home.

"Ciana!" he cried, barging into the hut. "Ciana, where are you?"

She emerged from shadows, dressed in her white gown. A girl of fourteen, she had long, dark hair and large gray eyes that he thought very beautiful.

"Tanin," she whispered. A haunted sound. The sound of old ghosts. A sound of old pain. Even then, Tanin knew that the sound—that soft utterance, that whisper of his name—would forever echo through his mind.

"Flee with me." He panted and reached out to her. "I must leave now. Flee with me to the mountains. We can marry in the wilderness. We can live together far from this place.

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