Lacrimosa ran and shifted. Arrows peppered the beach around her. Two hit her back, but snapped against her scales. Ilbane sizzled over her, and she yelped.
"Fly over the water!" she cried and flapped her wings. She saw Benedictus and Kyrie flying beside her; they too had shifted. She heard more whistles. When she peeked over her shoulder, she saw a thousand archers in the trees above the beach. Their arrows flew, and more clanked against the fleeing Vir Requis. This time, an arrow broke Lacrimosa's scales and pierced her. She cried in pain; ilbane coated the arrowhead, sending fire through her.
"Fly faster!" she cried. They were far from the shore now, and when more arrows flew, they fell into the water. Lacrimosa exhaled in relief. We made it.
That was when she heard the griffins.
When Lacrimosa looked over her shoulder, she saw them there: Three griffins, their armor gilded and their wings wide. She recognized the leader. A woman sat atop that griffin, aiming a lance, her armor golden.
Gloriae. My daughter.
The sight of Gloriae sent more pain through Lacrimosa than the arrows. She wanted to fly toward her, to embrace her, to tell her who she was, to save her from Dies Irae. But how could she? How could she reveal this shattering truth to Gloriae? How would this girl raised to loath, hunt, and kill Vir Requis ever believe it?
You are Vir Requis too, Gloriae! she wanted to cry out. You have our magic within you. You can shift, become a dragon. I know it. You are not Dies Irae's. You cannot be his. You are the daughter of Benedictus.
All these things Lacrimosa ached to cry out, and tears filled her eyes, but she could bring no words to her lips. Gloriae and the riders she led were firing crossbows. The bolts whizzed by Lacrimosa, and one hit Kyrie's tail. The boy yelped, dipped several feet, but kept flying.
"That's it!" Kyrie said. He snarled, and suddenly he spun around to face the griffins. Lacrimosa's heart froze, and she cried out. Eyes narrowed and grin tight, Kyrie began flying toward Gloriae.
"Kyrie!" Lacrimosa cried.
Quarrels flew across the young Vir Requis. One hit his shoulder, and he grunted, but kept flying.
"Hello again, sweetheart," Kyrie said and drove his head into Gloriae's griffin.
Gloriae screamed and lashed her lance, but her griffin was bucking, and she could not aim. Kyrie clawed the beast, bit its shoulder, and shoved it. The two other griffins were clawing, but Kyrie's lashing tail kept them at bay.
Gloriae and her griffin fell and crashed into the sea. Kyrie blew fire at the other two griffins, holding them back.
"You die now, blondie," Kyrie said, growled, and swooped at Gloriae with open claws.
"No!" Lacrimosa cried and flew. Ice seemed to encase her. She was about to watch Kyrie kill her daughter. "Kyrie, no, she's my—"
The words froze on her lips. She could not reveal the secret, not like this, not here. Instead, she grabbed Kyrie and pulled him back. He struggled, and then Benedictus was flying there too, pulling the boy away.
A griffin flew at Lacrimosa. She blew fire, and it caught flame. Screeching, it dived into the water. The third griffin attacked Benedictus, and he swatted away with his tail, cutting its side.
"Fly!" Lacrimosa said, still struggling to pull Kyrie back. Gloriae was swimming away, tossing off her armor. Kyrie was trying to reach her, to claw her, but Lacrimosa would not let him.
"I'll explain later, just fly now, fly away, there are more griffins coming."
She could see them on the horizon. A hundred more flew their way, maybe two hundred. They would be on them within seconds.
Kyrie saw them too. He grunted and began to fly away. The three dragons were soon flying into the clouds, fleeing as fast as they could.
"Swim back to shore, Gloriae," Lacrimosa whispered as she flew, breath aching in her lungs. "Leave this place, and travel far, and forget about us. I love you, my lost daughter. I love you."
KYRIE ELEISON
They flew all day and into night, until they lost the griffins over a forest of oaks and pines.
Under rainclouds and trees, they ran in human form, small and cloaked in darkness. They ran for a league, maybe two, ran until Kyrie's side ached and his lungs felt ready to burst. They ran until they heard no more griffins, and then ran some more.
Lost, wounded, and exhausted, they finally collapsed in the forest.
Kyrie sat on the wet ground, leaned against an oak, and shut his eyes. Everything hurt. Lacrimosa and Benedictus collapsed beside him. Benedictus breathed ragged, creaky breaths like a saw. Lacrimosa's chest rose and fell, and she seemed paler than ever.
It was long moments before Kyrie could speak again. Finally he turned to Lacrimosa and said, "Why? Why wouldn't you let me kill her?"
She looked at him, pain in her eyes. "She is a sad child."
Kyrie shook his head in disbelief. Gloriae? Sad? He snorted. He saw rage in Gloriae. He saw cruelty. He saw a killer. There was no sadness in those icy eyes, in those cruel lips.
Lacrimosa began crying. Kyrie felt guilt like a rock in his belly.
"Lacrimosa, I—" He couldn't understand. It seemed almost like Lacrimosa loved Gloriae, loved this killer, the daughter of Dies Irae. But how could that be? "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"Drop it, kid," Benedictus said, still wheezing. "Gloriae's tale is a sad one. Dies Irae kidnapped her when she was three, raised her to hate Vir Requis, raised her to kill. The girl is not evil at heart; she's simply ignorant."
Kyrie doubted that. He had looked into Gloriae's eyes. He had seen something cold, cruel, and calculating there. If that wasn't evil, he didn't know what was. Lacrimosa, however, was still crying, and Benedictus's eyes were shooting daggers. Kyrie decided to drop the subject.
He rubbed his aching shoulder. "All right," he said. "I'll drop it. But I'm not done asking questions. I have many. And I want answers to some at least. In the past few days, I've been shot at, clawed at, bitten, burned, and hit with about a field's worth of ilbane. My wounds ache, this rain is bloody cold, I'm famished, and I stubbed my toes about fifteen times on these roots. I think I've earned some answers." His voice was hoarse and his eyes stung. "So tell me this at least: Are there more Vir Requis? Or are we the last?"
Before anyone could answer, a griffin shrieked in the distance. Kyrie stiffened. He sat still, daring not breathe. Beside him, Benedictus and Lacrimosa also froze. An old oak rose above them, twisted and leafy. No griffins would see through its boughs, but still Kyrie's fingers trembled. He scanned the clouds for griffins. He saw a glint above—a rider carrying a torch. Is that Dies Irae who rides there? Or Gloriae? Then the griffin flew by, its shrieks fading into the distance.
When they could no longer hear the griffin, Benedictus turned to face him. At least, Kyrie thought he did; in the darkness, Benedictus appeared as but a shadow, burly and stiff like the oaks around them.
"There is another," spoke his gruff voice in the night.
Kyrie's heart leaped. Another! Another Vir Requis! He wanted to leap up and dance, and only the memory of the last griffin kept him still. "Who?" he breathed. "A girl Vir Requis?"
In the darkness, he heard Lacrimosa laugh softly, and Kyrie felt blood rise to his cheeks. Nice one, Kyrie, he scolded himself. You sound like a lonely, love-starved boy.
But maybe it wasn't so foolish a question, he decided. A female Vir Requis meant hope. A female could bear children. And if Kyrie himself was the father.... He felt even more blood rush to his cheeks, and he was grateful for the darkness that hid his fluster. Suddenly he was no longer cold.
"I know what you're thinking," Benedictus said. "And you can forget it right now. Yes, she's a girl. But she's not for you."
Why is he so angry? Kyrie wondered. Had he somehow offended the old warrior? It was hard to know; Benedictus was angry more often than not.
"Who is she?" Kyrie said. His fingers tingled. All his life, he'd been sure no other Vir Requis lived, except perhaps for the legendary Benedictus. And now, within a moon's cycle, he had met not jus
t Benedictus, but Lacrimosa too. And there was a fourth! A second female! For ten years since Lanburg Fields, the world had seemed so grim, a world of hiding in Fort Sanctus, a world of pain and loneliness. Now things were different. To be sure, he still lived in hiding, and danger and loneliness were still his companions, but promise filled this night, and hope, and wonders. These were new feelings to Kyrie, and they made him feel drunk. He wanted to become a dragon and fly to find this new Vir Requis right away. Had she too been hiding all this time, alone in some fort? Had she too been dreaming of finding others, of finding Benedictus? Why wouldn't the old king speak? The burly shadow merely stood silently. It boiled Kyrie's blood.
"Well, why don't you speak?" he demanded, then bit his tongue. "I'm sorry, but— can't you tell me?"
Benedictus only growled again, a sound like a bear in its den. "I told you, kid, forget about her."
A griffin shriek sounded, but it was a league away. Kyrie ignored it. He stood up, boots crunching the leaves that carpeted the forest floor. Rising so quickly made his wounds hurt, but he ignored the pain. "How can I forget her?" he said. He knew his voice was too loud, but couldn't help it. His fists clenched. "I've spent ten years thinking I'm alone, thinking all the others died. Now I learn there's another—a girl!—and you tell me to forget her? Why, Benedictus?"
The shadow also stood up. Kyrie was tall, but Benedictus towered over him. That growl sounded again, louder this time. "Watch your mouth, kid, unless you want it bashed in."
Now it was Lacrimosa's turn to rise. A slender shadow in the darkness, she leaped forward. If Benedictus was gnarled, tough, and wide as an oak, Lacrimosa was like a sapling. She came between them and placed one hand on Kyrie's chest, the other on Benedictus's chest. Kyrie marveled at how small and soft her hand felt, and how her hair, only inches from his face, smelled like jasmine.
"Please don't fight," she said. Though the night was starless, and they had no fire or lamp, Kyrie could see her hair glitter like moonlight. "Ben, we must tell him."
Benedictus regarded her for a moment, then turned away. He faced the oak and stood silent for a long time, fists at his sides. Finally his voice came in the darkness, low, almost sad, a voice drenched in memory and regret.
"Her name is Agnus Dei," said Benedictus. "And she will not join us. She will not fly with us."
"Why not?" Kyrie said, stepping forward, heart leaping. Fire blazed through him.
Benedictus still did not face him. "Agnus Dei is a wild one. She spends all her time in dragon form. Forgets she's a Vir Requis. Thinks she's a true dragon, forgets her human side, forgets her humanity. More dragon than woman, that one is. I don't think she's been in her human form in a year."
Kyrie shook his head. "How is that possible? How has she survived? How do you know her? Where is she?" He had so many questions, he could have asked a hundred more, but Benedictus turned to face him. Kyrie could see but two blazing eyes in the shadowy form, and something in those eyes silenced him.
"She's my daughter," Benedictus said.
Kyrie took a step back. "Your... daughter?"
He did not know how to feel. Elated? Heart-warmed? But more than any other emotion, Kyrie felt sudden rage. His daughter! Kyrie clenched his fists. He had seen Requiem burn, had seen her courts topple. He had been to Lanburg Fields where the last of their kind perished, even the children. Yet Benedictus's family had been safe! His wife, Lacrimosa. His daughter, Agnus Dei. Where had he kept them? Had he hidden them underground while leading the others to die? Kyrie felt as if dragonfire consumed him. He wanted to pummel the old man. He wanted to shout, to accuse Benedictus of cowardice, but could bring none of it to his lips. So many emotions swirled through him, spinning his head, that he could barely speak. He could only manage two more words: "Your daughter."
Benedictus stared at him. "Yes, kid. I have a daughter. And I know what you're thinking. Yes, I kept her safe. Yes, I kept my child and wife away from Lanburg Fields." He took a step toward Kyrie; they stood only a foot apart. "Yes, I lead the rest of you to die. I lead thousands to die, but I kept my family safe. Even in the darkness, I can see that you hate me. And you're right to hate me. I've spent ten years hating myself, so a little more hate ain't gonna make a difference."
Silence filled the night. Not even crickets chirped. Lacrimosa stood by them, staring, and Kyrie did not know what to say. Finally he just turned around, walked toward the oak tree, and placed a hand against the trunk. Leaning against the tree, he lowered his head. His eyes stung.
"Kyrie," came Lacrimosa's voice behind him, soft and entreating. He felt her hand, so small and light, on his shoulder.
He turned around. He stared at Lacrimosa and Benedictus. "I want to find her."
"Forget her," said Benedictus.
"No!" Kyrie yelled, and Benedictus growled. Yelling could alert the griffins, but Kyrie didn't care. He preferred a fight to hiding. "No," he repeated. "She's your daughter, Benedictus. And she might be the only other Vir Requis who lives. The time for hiding has ended. Let's find her. We can't live scattered like this, in caves, in towers, in forests." Kyrie gritted his teeth. "We fly again, Benedictus. We fly like in the old days. And we fly with Agnus Dei."
Benedictus glowered. "She will not fly with us."
"I will get her to fly." He smiled mirthlessly. "We both saw our childhoods cut short. We will understand each other. Benedictus. Lacrimosa. Please. Let me speak with your daughter. Will you take me to her?"
He noticed suddenly, with a wrench of his heart, that Lacrimosa was weeping. Her tears glistened in the night, and her body shook. Such guilt filled Kyrie, that he felt like somebody had punched his stomach.
"Lacrimosa," he said, voice soft. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I...."
She shook his head. "No, you don't hurt me. You're right, Kyrie. We'll seek her. I want her to meet you." Her voice shook and her tears fell. "I've wanted her to meet other Vir Requis for so long, others her age, of her kind. Maybe you can help her. Maybe you can help heal the pain within her." She smiled a trembling smile. "You're right. We're all in this together. Benedictus is no forest hunter. Agnus Dei is no wild dragon. We are Vir Requis. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you to her."
Kyrie was about to speak when shouts filled the forest. He heard creaking armor, swords being drawn, and thumping boots. Dogs barked.
"Actually, I think we better go now," Kyrie said and started running. "Tomorrow morning? Too late."
Benedictus and Lacrimosa ran beside him. They fled through the forest, panting, aching. We're going to need to find more than one Vir Requis, Kyrie thought as branches slapped him and the rain pelted him. We're going to need to find a hidden army. He suddenly missed Fort Sanctus; even hiding in that dank fort seemed heavenly compared to this, to running scared through the rain and darkness. Soon griffins flew above.
"They haven't seen us yet," Benedictus whispered as they ran. "Do not shift! Keep running, and keep quiet, and keep hidden. It's the dogs I'm worried about."
"Me too," Lacrimosa said, "I—"
She fell, twisted her ankle, and bit down on a yelp. His heart racing, Kyrie helped her up, glancing behind him. He could see steel blades and torchlight. Benedictus lifted Lacrimosa over his shoulder, and they kept running. Thunder rolled and the rain hammered them.
Kyrie clenched his fists. He had never harmed Dies Irae or Gloriae. Why were they so desperate to murder him? He wanted to shift, to roar, to fight them, but he just kept running. Lightning flashed, the dogs howled, and suddenly Kyrie doubted that he'd ever see Agnus Dei. He doubted that he'd live through the night.
Through rain and darkness, the Vir Requis ran.
DIES IRAE
Dies Irae slapped the girl's face, not hard enough to cut her, but hard enough to knock her to the floor. "You looked into my eyes," he said, voice icy. "Never look into my eyes."
She lay at his feet, trembling, hair covering her face. When he'd seen her that afternoon in the village, a peasant girl hawking eggs, he knew he must h
ave her. A girl not yet twenty, slender, her hair fair and soft... she looked so much like Lacrimosa, that Dies Irae knew he would take her. Hurt her. Punish her for what Lacrimosa had done to him all those years ago.
"Please, my lord," the girl whispered, voice shaking. "My husband. Is he—"
"Be silent," Dies Irae said, staring down upon her. "Do not speak unless you are spoken to."
Her husband! Dies Irae barked a laugh. He had dealt with the farmer. The man had put up a fight, trying to protect his wife; he had even dared punch Lord Molok. Dies Irae smiled when he remembered how Molok had grabbed the man, then dragged him away screaming. If griffins had not eaten the peasant yet, it was only because Molok was still torturing him.
Dies Irae sighed. These backwater villages taxed him, with their crude peasants, impudent girls, and cold stone forts. He hated Benedictus for drawing him away from Confutatis, his Marble City of splendor and comfort. He hated Benedictus for eluding him this long, for leading him on a chase that seemed to never end. Dies Irae stared out the window of the fortress, gazing over the filthy village below, the field and forest, and the distant mountains.
"My lord, please, I beg you—" the peasant girl began, rising to her feet. Dies Irae hit her again, a punch that knocked her to the ground. Blood gushed from her lips.
"Silence," he said. These peasants lived so far from Confutatis, from his glory and statues and palaces. They forgot his power, his holiness. He would beat respect into them.
The girl was weeping at his feet. With his iron fist, the mace he now wore for an arm, Dies Irae caressed her hair. She shivered at his boots. So young, soft, pale. So much like Lacrimosa.
Dies Irae smiled when he remembered that day, eighteen years ago, when he'd found Lacrimosa in the forest. She had been only fifteen, fresh like an autumn fruit, and he had enjoyed hurting her, hurting his brother's prize. Yes, Benedictus had inherited the Oak Throne, Benedictus had gotten Lacrimosa to be his bride. But Dies Irae was the elder brother; if he could not inherit his birthright, he could destroy it.
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 11
