Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  She barked a laugh. "Try it then. I'm no longer fifteen, Irae. I've suffered enough ilbane to shift though its pain. You've given me this strength."

  Damn it. Anger flared in Dies Irae, and he shouted and slapped her, knocking her down. Fresh blood speckled the snow. He stormed off, leaving her there, bloody.

  "Chain her," he ordered his men. "And keep guard, three griffins around her at every moment. If she escapes, I kill every one of you."

  Men and griffins rushed toward Lacrimosa, and Dies Irae entered the tent his men had raised for him. Inside the embroidered walls, he fumed and paced.

  "You made a mistake, Lacrimosa," he said, though none were there to hear. "You will pay for it. You will suffer. Once we reach Confutatis, you will suffer more than any weredragon ever has."

  Outside he heard her cry in pain, and he smiled, a mirthless smile.

  The tent flaps flew open, and Gloriae stormed inside. She carried her helmet under her arm, and her cheeks were flushed—from anger or cold, Dies Irae did not know. Probably both, he thought.

  "Let me kill her," Gloriae demanded, eyes flashing. "Let me kill the weredragon." Her chest rose and fell, and her hand trembled around the hilt of her drawn sword.

  "In time," Dies Irae said.

  "Now. She killed Mother. I will avenge her." Tears filled Gloriae's eyes. "Please, Father. I will kill her like you've taught me to kill."

  She must never know, Dies Irae told himself. She must never know that Lacrimosa did not kill her mother... but is her mother. The truth would crush her, Dies Irae knew. If Gloriae learned she was descended from monsters, it would be a pain too great to bear. He would spare her this. He would keep Lacrimosa gagged, he decided, to stop her from speaking the truth.

  He gestured at an upholstered chair in the corner. "Gloriae, sit down."

  She shook her head wildly. "I will not. Father, I—"

  "Sit down, Gloriae," he said again, a little more firmly.

  She held her breath, bit her lip, seemed about to scream, then finally stormed to the chair and sat down. She still held her sword raised.

  Dies Irae sat beside her in a second chair. "Daughter, you know that I love you."

  "And I love you, Father." Her voice was ice over fire.

  "If you love me, you'll stay away from Lacrimosa. You will not kill her. You will not remove her muzzle to speak with her. You will not even approach her."

  Gloriae rose so quickly, she knocked back her chair. It hit the tent wall, and a flurry of snow blew in. "I refuse."

  "Gloriae. Sit down." This time his voice was cold, and he raised his mace. When she was a child, he would never beat her. Instead, he would whip her handmaiden, bloodying the girl as Gloriae watched and bit her lip, stifling tears. The handmaiden's back still bore scars, and Gloriae still harbored a fear of him. Face pale as the snow, Gloriae righted her chair and sat again.

  Dies Irae touched a strand of her hair. So golden, so beautiful. It was like his own hair. Inwardly, Dies Irae snorted. And Benedictus thought he was her father? That a beast like him could beget a child as fair as Gloriae? Benedictus could keep Agnus Dei, that beastly child of scales and flame. Gloriae was pure.

  "You are beautiful, my child, and your spirit is still soft."

  Gloriae glared. "My spirit is cold and strong as my blade."

  "It is still soft. The weredragon would ensorcell you. She might even inflict her disease upon you, so that you too grow scales, wings, and turn into a lizard."

  Gloriae narrowed her eyes and gasped. "They can spread their curse?"

  Dies Irae nodded, forcing a sad expression to his face. "Most cannot, but Lacrimosa is fouler than her kin. She killed your mother, and so your soul is vulnerable to her black magic. I fear for you, daughter."

  Gloriae snarled. "I don't fear her." She raised her blade. "She will fear my sword."

  "Do it for my own fear, then," Dies Irae said. "I confess that I'm afraid. Please, Daughter. I grow old. In only several winters, I will be sixty, did you know? An old man. You are the light of my life, Gloriae. All that I do, all the wars I fight, all the cities I build... it is for you. I try to clean this world, to turn it into a empire of light and goodness, so that when I die—"

  "Father!"

  "Hear me out, Gloriae. I will die someday, maybe in a year, maybe in twenty years, but I will die. And then you will sit upon the Ivory Throne. I want to leave this a good world for you to rule. If you should fall to Lacrimosa's magic, I... I could not bear it."

  "I will not fall to her curse."

  Dies Irae caressed her hair with his mace. "You are brave, Gloriae, but I am not. Not when it comes to your safety. So do an old man a favor. Don't kill Lacrimosa; not until she lures Benedictus to us. Don't speak to her. Leave my men to hurt her."

  "But I want to hurt her."

  "If you do, you will hurt me. Do you want to hurt me, daughter?"

  Gloriae stared at him, green eyes icy, face expressionless, and Dies Irae saw the answer in her eyes. Yes. She does.

  "I will not kill her yet," Gloriae finally said, staring into his eyes, not blinking. "I will let her live until Benedictus flies to rescue her, until we catch and kill him, and Kyrie Eleison, and Agnus Dei. I will keep our bait alive. But once we kill the others, then, Father... then I will hurt her like she hurt me. Then I will kill her like she killed Mother."

  Not waiting for him to reply, Gloriae rose to her feet and stormed out of the tent. Snow flurried in, and Dies Irae stared at the embroidered cloth walls for a long time. Finally he spoke, as if she were still there to hear.

  "Very well, Gloriae." He sighed, remembering that day in the forest, Lacrimosa's soft skin, her screams, her hair in his hands. "Very well. Then you may kill her."

  KYRIE ELEISON

  Kyrie had never felt more pain.

  He and Agnus Dei had not touched ground in a day and night. Through darkness and hail, and sunlight over burning cloudscapes, they flew faster than wind, higher than mountains. Again the sun was setting, blazing orange and red over a sea of clouds, casting rays between the Vir Requis. How far had they flown since that night Lacrimosa fell captive? It must be close to three thousand leagues, Kyrie thought. Maybe more. He had never flown so fast, so far.

  His wings ached. His lungs burned. His joints felt like rusty metal hinges. He looked at Agnus Dei. She flew beside him, her scales blazing red in the sunset. Her eyes stared forward, narrowed and fiery. Her fangs were bared. Yet Agnus Dei too needed rest, Kyrie knew. Pain lived on her face alongside her anger, and her wings looked stiff and aching.

  "Let's rest!" he called to her over the wind.

  She glowered. "Not until we find the salvanae."

  "Maybe they're below the clouds," Kyrie said. "Let's land and look for them on the ground."

  She gave him a look that said, Nice try, pup, but no cookie.

  Kyrie attempted to think of another argument, found none, and resigned himself to grabbing Agnus Dei and pulling her down.

  "Let go!" she cried as they tumbled through the clouds.

  But Kyrie would not let go. He wrapped himself around her and swooped through the clouds, into clear sky, and toward the earth. She wriggled in his grasp, and he tightened his grip, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. Luckily she was too weary to break free.

  No trees covered the land, and the grass was thin and yellow. Hills rose from the earth, round like upside down bowls on a tabletop. A stream ran between them, gray under the clouds, and deer drank from it. Still pulling Agnus Dei, Kyrie landed by the water. The deer snorted and fled, hooves kicking up dirt and grass.

  "Let go, pup," Agnus Dei said, panting. She finally shook herself free from Kyrie. She looked to the sky, as if considering to take flight again, then shook her head and approached the stream. She drank deeply.

  Kyrie joined her. He dipped his head underwater and drank. The water was icy, and it filled him with such goodness that he sighed. He drank until his belly bulged, then raised his dripping head from the water.

>   "I needed that," he said.

  Agnus Dei gestured toward the next hill, which lay nearby. More deer stood there in the dusk, promising a meal. "I'm hungry," Agnus Dei said. "Feel like mutton?"

  "Their meat is called venison," Kyrie said.

  Agnus Dei rolled her eyes. "Now don't start that again."

  They flew toward the hill where the deer grazed, and caught one before the others escaped. It was mostly skin and bones, and its meat was tough. After a day of no food, however, Kyrie wasn't complaining.

  Agnus Dei swallowed her last bite and licked her lips. "Let's fly. Ready, pup?"

  Lying on the ground, Kyrie turned his head toward her. He wanted to be ready. He wanted to fly, to find help, to find the salvanae. In his dreams, he saw himself leading an army of dragons to Confutatis, saving Lacrimosa, and avenging all those whom Dies Irae had killed. But were those only dreams? Kyrie sighed.

  "What if there are no salvanae?" he whispered. "What if we're only chasing a myth?"

  Agnus Dei's nostrils flared. Her eyes blazed, and flames escaped her lips. "Kyrie, you know how I feel. You know I believe."

  Kyrie nodded. He wanted to believe too. After flying all of last night, however, he also ached for sleep. The thought of flying another night and day made his head, body, and soul hurt. Of course, that pain was nothing compared to what Lacrimosa must be enduring. Dies Irae would torture her; Kyrie knew that. He had to do something, anything, even if it was just chasing a dream.

  "All right," he said. "Let's fly."

  He struggled to his feet and stretched, his joints and wings aching. He looked at the setting sun; it would soon disappear behind the horizon. Kyrie sighed. It would be a long night.

  Before he could take flight, however, a herd of deer upon a distant hill bugled. They began to run together, wailing. They fled toward Kyrie and Agnus Dei, as if mere dragons—hungry dragons who had just eaten one of them—were gentle compared to what chased them.

  "What the—" Agnus Dei began, then her voice died and she stared.

  Kyrie stared too. Four creatures emerged from behind a hill, dragon-sized and covered in bloodred fur. Bat wings grew from their backs, and their claws tore grass and earth. The beasts stared at Kyrie and Agnus Dei. Flames crackled in their eyes, and their fangs oozed drool. Their stench carried upon the wind, a stench like corpses. Lanburg Fields had smelled the same.

  Kyrie growled and bared his fangs. Agnus Dei snorted a blast of fire. They stood side by side, silent and watching.

  "Ugly buggers," Agnus Dei muttered to Kyrie.

  "And smelly ones," Kyrie muttered back.

  One of the four red beasts was larger than the others. A crest of black hair ran along its head and back, and three serrated horns grew from its brow. It took three steps forward, smoke rising from its nostrils. Saliva dripped from its maw.

  "Are you griffins?" it asked, voice low, a growl like broken rocks.

  "Not too bright, are they?" Agnus Dei whispered to Kyrie from the corner of her mouth. She then stared at the creature and raised her voice. "Griffins? Do we look like griffins? We hate those things. What are you?"

  The creatures ignored her. The beast with the black crest, apparently their leader, snorted smoke. It licked its lips with two slobbery tongues.

  "Are you dragons?" it asked with that low, crackling growl. The other three beasts growled too and scratched the ground, their claws red in the sunset.

  "Dragons?" Kyrie said, narrowing his eyes. "We're Vir Requis. We seek the salvanae. Do you know where we can find them?"

  The black-crested beast snarled and snapped its teeth. "You are Osanna stock. You may not pass the Divide. You may not enter Salvandos. We are dividers. We guard the Divide; it is holy. You have touched the Divide. Flee now, or you will die."

  Kyrie took a step closer to the creature, this divider. Its stench was so powerful, he nearly gagged, but Kyrie forced himself to stare into its eyes.

  "We must pass the Divide," he said. "We must enter Salvandos."

  The dividers howled, a sound that shook the hills. Lightning slashed the sky, and dark clouds gathered. The chief divider snarled, eyes blazing, and took another step toward Kyrie. It now stood so close, it could claw Kyrie.

  "No griffins may pass the Divide."

  Kyrie gulped. The divider was sixty feet long; a good twenty feet longer than Kyrie. Muscles moved beneath its fur, and its claws glistened when lightning struck. Its tongues licked its chops again, dripping drool that burned the grass and sizzled, eating holes into the earth.

  "I told you ugly buggers!" Agnus Dei said and stepped up beside Kyrie, flames leaving her nostrils. Her eyes blazed nearly as angrily as the divider's. "We're not griffins."

  The dividers considered her. Their chief said, "You are dragons. No dragons or griffins may pass the Divide. We are dividers. The Divide is holy. Leave now, or we will feast upon you."

  All four dividers licked their chops.

  Agnus Dei rolled her eyes. She flapped her wings and said, "Oh, give me a break."

  Then she took off and began to fly over the dividers' heads.

  "Agnus Dei, no!" Kyrie shouted, ice flowing through him.

  The dividers howled and leaped toward Agnus Dei, bat wings flapping.

  Agnus Dei blew fire at them.

  Kyrie cursed, kicked off the ground, and flew toward her.

  The fire roared. It flowed over the dividers above, and then covered Kyrie. He shut his eyes, grunted, and veered left and out of the flames. The fire blackened the scales across his right side.

  The dividers were blazing. If Kyrie's scales protected him from fire, the dividers' fur now crackled and burned. Kyrie expected them to die, or at least flee, but the fire seemed only to enrage them. They screamed, horrible sounds like slaughtered animals, and flew toward Agnus Dei. Their claws scratched and their teeth snapped.

  "Hey!" Kyrie called. "Leave her! Take me on."

  He swiped his tail at one blazing divider. He knocked it aside. The others were clawing at Agnus Dei, who was lashing her tail and snapping her teeth.

  "Oh sure, save the damsel in distress, my hero pup," Agnus Dei called to him over the shrieking dividers. She lashed her tail and hit one divider, knocking it into a spin.

  Two dividers turned toward Kyrie, maws open. Fire raced across them, raising sparks, but seemed not to slow them. They flew toward Kyrie. Kyrie lashed his tail and hit one, driving his tail's spikes deep into its side. The other bit Kyrie's shoulder. He howled. The divider's fangs pushed through his scales and into his flesh, and its fire blazed against Kyrie.

  "Get off!" Kyrie grunted and shook, but the divider kept its fangs in his shoulder, shaking its head like a dog biting a bird. Kyrie shoved his claws into its side, grunting as its flaming fur burned him, and kept clawing until its innards spilled. Even in death, it kept its jaw locked on his shoulder. Kyrie could barely keep above the ground. The dead divider weighed more than him. Its entrails dangled.

  "Agnus Dei!" he called. She was fighting above him. Scratches covered her, and five dividers surrounded her. Five dividers? Kyrie grunted. Where had more come from? Then he noticed that a dozen dividers now surrounded him.

  "Damn it," Kyrie muttered. One flew toward him. Kyrie lashed his tail at it. The dead divider clung to his shoulder, jaw locked in its death bite, tugging him closer and closer to the ground. Kyrie growled, pulled its jaw open with all his might, and sent the body crashing down. Fresh blood spurted from his shoulder.

  Kyrie was close to the ground now. Agnus Dei fought a good thousand feet above. Kyrie flapped his wings, shooting straight up, knocking through a crowd of dividers. They clawed and bit, and Kyrie clawed and bit back, shoving his way through them. Twenty flew around him. In the distance, he saw a hundred more flying toward the fray.

  "Agnus Dei!" he shouted. "Let's get out of here!"

  She was fighting above, scratching and biting and blowing fire. Her eyes blazed. Scratches covered her, and several of her scales were missing. A gash ran al
ong her tail.

  "Agnus Dei!" Kyrie cried. He blew fire at one divider, clawed another's face, and flew beside her. A hundred dividers surrounded them, a sea of red fur, fangs, and fire. Thunder boomed and lightning rent the sky.

  "Hello, pup," Agnus Dei said as she fought. Blood trickled from her mouth. "What were you doing down there—taking a nap?"

  Kyrie blocked a swipe of claws from a divider, clawed back, and grabbed Agnus Dei's shoulder. "Agnus Dei, this is no time for jokes. Come with me."

  The dividers screamed around them, lashing their tails, and Kyrie grunted when one hit him. He wanted to blow fire, a Vir Requis's best weapon, but flames only enraged the dividers.

  Agnus Dei shook him off. "We must enter Salvandos! I won't back down." She slashed at a divider, sending it crashing down, but one scratched her back. Her blood poured, and she cried in pain.

  "Agnus Dei, come on!" Kyrie shouted, grabbed her again, and pulled her back. Maybe the pain of her wound changed her mind. She flew with him. They crashed through a dozen dividers, heading back toward Osanna.

  The dividers followed, howling, bat wings flapping.

  "We're back in Osanna!" Kyrie cried over his shoulder. "Leave us."

  The black-crested divider leered. Its fur had burned off, revealing scraggly, blackened flesh covered with scratches and blood. Blood filled its mouth, and smoke rose from it. "You have touched the Divide," it said. "You will die."

  The hundred dividers, eyes like raging stars, stormed forward.

  Kyrie cursed under his breath, grabbed Agnus Dei, and pulled her with him. They flew east and down, moving close to the grass.

  "Let go!" Agnus Dei demanded, squirming as she flew, trying to release his grasp. "I flee from no fight."

  "I have an idea," Kyrie said. "Just do what I do."

  Lightning crashed, and the clouds roiled. The dividers screamed, their bat wings churning the air. Kyrie flew behind a hill crowned with boulders. For a moment, he couldn't see the dividers behind him. The boulders shielded him and Agnus Dei from view.

  Kyrie landed by a stream and turned human. His wounds ached even worse this way, and the deer meat grumbled in his belly.