Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  "What are you waiting for?" Kyrie shouted somewhere above. "Kill him!"

  But Benedictus could not. He could not ten years ago, and he could not now. Not after all this blood, all this death. His brother was a monster. A murderer. A despot who had committed horrible crimes. But he was still Benedictus's blood, still a man who begged for life, a man who was surrendering to him.

  Benedictus looked down at this groveling, pathetic creature. Disgust filled him.

  "You will return with me to the ruins of Requiem," Benedictus said, tears choking his voice. "We will stand among the columns which you toppled, among the graves of the children you murdered, and there you will stand trial. No, I will not kill you, Dies Irae. But I will judge you. For the rest of your life, you will live imprisoned to me. You will watch as I return Osanna to its old kings. You will watch as I show the world the crimes you've committed."

  Benedictus, King of Requiem, lowered his sword.

  Sobbing on his knees, Dies Irae crawled toward him in the mud. "Thank you, thank you," he blubbered, blood covering him, and reached out as if to kiss Benedictus's boots.

  But instead, so quickly Benedictus barely saw it, Dies Irae drew a hidden dagger.

  The blade flashed.

  Agnus Dei screamed.

  The dagger buried itself into Benedictus's gut, and Dies Irae turned the blade, grinning a bloody, insane grin.

  The birch leaves rustled around him, bright green, and dapples of light danced upon the marble tiles. The columns rose around him, white marble, and he saw Lacrimosa walking among them, clad in white silks, her hair braided. Agnus Dei ran toward him, so small, her hair a tangle of black curls, and he lifted her and laughed. Gloriae ran to him too, hair golden, laughing, and he lifted her with his other arm. It was spring in Requiem, and it was beautiful, so beautiful that he wept.

  Benedictus fell to his knees. Dies Irae grinned in the mud, twisting the blade. Benedictus looked up, eyelids fluttering, and saw his family there, and he smiled. "I love you," his lips uttered silently.

  "I will rape Lacrimosa again," Dies Irae whispered into Benedictus's ear, blood dripping from his lips. "A thousand more times. I want you to die knowing that."

  With blurry eyes, Benedictus saw Kyrie swooping toward them. He saw Dies Irae crawl through the mud. He saw Volucris stir, still alive. Then Benedictus could see no more. He fell into the mud, and rain pattered against him. He turned his head, and he beheld a sight so beautiful, that he wept.

  Before him stretched the halls of his fathers, all in silver and mist, columns rising among the stars.

  KYRIE ELEISON

  Kyrie saw Benedictus fall. His heart shattered. That day ten years ago returned to him, the day King Benedictus had led him to this field.

  Kyrie wanted to rush to Benedictus, to his king.

  Instead he flew to Dies Irae.

  The destroyer of Requiem, the man who'd murdered Kyrie's family, was dragging himself through the mud toward Volucris. The griffin was cut and burned, but still alive.

  He's going to get away with the amulet! Kyrie thought. He could not allow that. He leaped onto Dies Irae, who squirmed beneath him. Dies Irae's armor was slick with blood. His visor had opened, revealing a shattered face, a shard of steel deep in his eye. The man was cackling, mucus and tears and blood flowing down his face. Kyrie nearly gagged.

  "You murdered my parents," Kyrie said. "You murdered Lady Mirum. Benedictus showed you mercy. I will not."

  Dies Irae was struggling, but growing weaker, his face paler. He looked moments from death. Kyrie shifted into human form. He placed his boot against Dies Irae's neck, reached down, and grabbed the Griffin Heart.

  "It's over, Irae," he said. He pulled the amulet back, snapping it off its chain. "I have the Griffin Heart. The griffins are mine. I want you to die knowing that. I...."

  Kyrie wanted to say more, but could not. The amulet blazed in his hand, sizzling hot, cutting off his words. Kyrie cried in pain and almost dropped it.

  The griffins screeched.

  Dies Irae shouted.

  The amulet vibrated and hummed in Kyrie's hand. The griffins went mad; they were flying to and fro, and their riders could not control them. Kyrie felt their fury. They hated him, hated the amulet; Kyrie had never known such hatred. They wanted to tear him apart. Volucris, wounded in the mud, seemed to gain new strength and took flight.

  "Men!" Dies Irae cried. He began crawling away from Kyrie, and soldiers rushed to him. A few men lifted him, and others surrounded him with drawn swords.

  "Irae!" Kyrie shouted. He wanted to stop him, to kill him, but could not. The amulet claimed him, spinning his head, burning his fist. He could barely stay standing.

  Gritting his teeth, Kyrie held the amulet over his head. He shut his eyes, ignoring the pain in his hand. The griffins began to swoop toward him, talons outstretched, blood in their eyes.

  How did the amulet work? How could he tame the griffins? He felt the magic burning down his arm, flowing up his spine...

  ...and then he felt a million griffins in his mind, flapping wings inside his skull.

  They were his.

  LACRIMOSA

  "Benedictus!" Lacrimosa cried, tears blurring her vision.

  The griffins were flying around her, enraged and confused. Dies Irae had vanished in the shadows and chaos. The salvanae stared with their golden orbs. Lacrimosa flew, shoved her way through them, and crashed to the ground by her husband.

  "My king," she wept. She shifted into human form and grabbed him. She held Benedictus in her arms, and she saw the dagger in his belly, and a sob racked her body. "Do not die today, my love."

  He blinked and soft breath left his lungs. He tried to speak, but could not. Blood soaked his shirt. His fingers moved weakly.

  "I need a healer!" Lacrimosa cried.

  Agnus Dei landed beside her, shifted into human form, and knelt by her father. She held him and gazed upon him with huge, haunted eyes.

  Kyrie too stood by them in human form, but seemed not to see them. He held the Griffin Heart over his head. The amulet vibrated and hummed and glowed. The griffins screeched above and clawed the air. For a moment it seemed they would attack. Kyrie snarled, holding the amulet to the skies, and pointed to the south, back to Confutatis. With shrieks, the griffins flew away, their riders powerless to stop them.

  "A healer, quickly!" Lacrimosa cried. Benedictus moaned in her arms, blood still flowing, eyes glazed.

  A bugle sounded among the clouds, and a great salvana came coiling down, furling and unfurling like a snake in water. His golden scales shimmered in the firelight. His eyes like crystal balls blinked, and wind whipped his white beard. He was larger than the other salvanae, and older, and Lacrimosa guessed that he was their leader.

  Agnus Dei seemed to recognize him. She leaped to her feet and waved to the salvana. "Nehushtan!" she called. "Nehushtan, please help us!"

  The salvana kept coiling down. The firelight glinted against him so brightly, it nearly blinded Lacrimosa. When he was near, Nehushtan hovered above them, his head lowered over Benedictus. The head seemed so large next to Benedictus's human form, all golden scales and white hair.

  "Nehushtan," Agnus Dei said between sobs. She placed her hands on his head. "You are a great priest. Can you heal him? Please. He's my father."

  Benedictus was barely breathing, barely moaning. Nehushtan sniffed him. As he inhaled, Lacrimosa saw golden powder and wisps of light. The priest's eyelashes, each like an ostrich feather, fanned her as he blinked. The rain streamed down his scales.

  "Please, Your Highness," Lacrimosa said to him, not sure if the title was appropriate, but not caring. Her husband's blood soaked her hands. She could not live without him. Without Benedictus, life was meaningless for her. Don't leave me now, my love. Please. Stay with me.

  Nehushtan sniffed again, inhaling wispy light that floated from Benedictus, as if he were smelling the king's soul. Finally he turned that great, golden head to Lacrimosa. He blinked again, eyelashes
fanning the ash, and spoke in an old voice like flowing water.

  "The Draco Stars shine bright in him." Nehushtan nodded. "I have rarely seen such bright light, such powerful dragon spirit. He is a mighty king."

  "Can you save him?" Lacrimosa pleaded. She placed a bloody hand against Nehushtan's scales. They felt warm against her palm.

  Nehushtan blinked again, turned his orbs to Benedictus, then back to her. "The stars of the dragon shine forever upon all who follow their light. Such light cannot be extinguished; it flows forever in our wake, from birth, to life, and to the great journey to those stars. Do not grieve for those who join the constellation, daughter of dragons, for his light will shine bright among them."

  Benedictus's eyes fluttered, then closed. His breath was so shallow now, Lacrimosa was not sure that he breathed at all. Agnus Dei sobbed, and even Kyrie was crying.

  Lacrimosa shook her head, her hair covering her face. Tears and raindrops streamed down her cheeks. She placed her second hand against Nehushtan's head. "Not yet. Please, Your Highness. I'm not ready to lose him."

  Nehushtan lowered his head to Benedictus, blinked several times, and sniffed again. "Yes, his dragon force still pulses, and starlight flows through him. But his human body, this one that lies before me, is dying. This body I cannot heal."

  Agnus Dei looked at the salvana desperately. "But can you save his dragon form? If he shifted, could you heal him?"

  Nehushtan looked at her. "I do not know, daughter of dragons, but I can try. His human body is beyond my skill; its form is made of ash, and to ash it will return. I can pray for his dragon form. Whether his human body survives, I do not know."

  Lacrimosa wept. To lose Benedictus's human body forever? To lose his kisses, his embraces, the stubble on his cheeks, his calloused hands, the crow feet that grew around his eyes during his rare smiles? How could she lose this, to sleep at nights without his form by her side, to walk without his hand in hers? Yet she nodded, trembling. "Please, Nehushtan. Do what you can."

  For the first time, Lacrimosa noticed that all the other salvanae—thousands of them—were watching from above. Their bodies were as strands of gold, and as Lacrimosa watched them, she gasped. The salvanae flowed to form a ring in the sky, and in the center of that ring, the clouds parted and no rain fell. It was like the eye of a storm. Through her tears, Lacrimosa saw that stars shone between the salvanae. The constellation Draco. Light of dragons. The beams of light fell upon her and Benedictus.

  Nehushtan began to sing, a song in an old language, a tune that sounded ancient beyond knowing. His voice was a deep rumble, beautiful like crystals in deep caves, and the starlight moved to the notes he sang. Lacrimosa could see chords of light flowing through the air, notes descending, spinning, and landing upon Benedictus. The music lived around her in light and ancient piety. The other salvanae began to sing too, some in bass, others in a high, angelic choir of light. Lacrimosa wept, for she had never heard anything more beautiful.

  The notes of light lifted Benedictus from the mud, and cleaned the dirt and blood from him. Lacrimosa wanted to hold onto him, to clutch him in her embrace, but she had to trust the music. She released her grip, and let the dragon song lift him on its light. He hovered above her, and soon he floated high under starlight, and he was no longer a man, but a dragon, a great dragon with midnight scales, with wings that were no longer torn. Benedictus the Black, King of Requiem, opened his jaws and roared, and the roar shook the land. No fire left his mouth, but starlight that flowed, danced, and sang.

  "Hear the Black Fang sound his roar," Kyrie whispered, watching with moist eyes, the amulet clutched in his fist. "Hear the song of Requiem."

  Strands of starlight woven around him, Benedictus descended to the earth, and stood by Lacrimosa, healed. His wing was whole now, and his scars gone. He looked so much like the old Benedictus, the great dragon who had led them to war so many years ago. He lowered his head to Lacrimosa, who stood in the mud in human form, and she embraced him.

  "Benedictus," she whispered, and she smiled a teary smile, and then she was weeping. There was so much she wanted to say to him. She wanted to speak of Dies Irae torturing her, forcing her to fight in his arena. She wanted to speak of her years in hiding, raising Agnus Dei in the snowy mountains of Fidelium. She wanted to speak of Dies Irae raping her all those years ago, how she did not know who fathered Agnus Dei and Gloriae. Lacrimosa wanted to speak of two decades of horror, of pain and of longing, but she could bring none of it to her lips. Benedictus knew. She did not need to speak, and her smile widened as she cried. She leaned her head against him, and for the first time in years Lacrimosa felt that beautiful light lay in her future, and great love and timeless music.

  "Is... your human body dead?" she whispered to him, embracing his dragon head. "Can you feel it within you?"

  Benedictus nodded gently. "I can feel it. It's hurt, and it's weak. It will be many days before I dare shift. But my human form lives, Lacrimosa. We can heal it."

  Lacrimosa closed her eyes and wept against him.

  And then Agnus Dei and Kyrie were embracing Benedictus too, and jumping onto his back, and climbing his neck, and laughing and playing as if they were still children. Benedictus too laughed, a deep rumbling dragon's laugh. Dies Irae took their childhood, Lacrimosa thought, looking at the young ones. Let them be as children now.

  Nehushtan watched, and it seemed to Lacrimosa that the old priest smiled. She turned to him and bowed her head.

  "Thank you."

  Nehushtan too bowed his head. His body hovered several feet above the ground. "Will you return with us to Salvandos, and dwell with us in Har Zahav, the mountain of gold?" he asked. "We have learned today that Vir Requis are noble, and great followers of the Draco stars. Return with us to Har Zahav, and fly with us there in golden clouds."

  Benedictus bowed to the priest. "I thank you, Lord of Salvandos. But I must decline. Our home is Requiem, and that home now lies in ruin. I am still king of that land, though it is burned to ash, and I still lead my people, though only five remain. I must stay true to my fathers, and to the courts of Requiem." His eyes glimmered in the starlight. "I do not know if I can rebuild the halls of my fathers. I do not know if our race can survive. Many dangers still await us. Dies Irae will still hunt us. The men and women who live across Osanna, and over the ruins of Requiem our motherland, still fear and hate us. Our song does not end today, great priest, nor does our quest. I remain in the east. If more Vir Requis still live in hiding, I must find them, and for the memory of my forefathers, I will rebuild our kingdom among the birches. Goodbye, dear friend. Forever will Requiem be an ally to Salvandos, and forever be in its debt." He bowed again to the High Priest, and he uttered the Old Words. "May our wings forever find your sky."

  Nehushtan smiled, a deep smile that sparkled in his eyes. And then the priest was flying away, and the other salvanae were coiling behind him and bugling. Within moments they were gone into the west.

  KYRIE ELEISON

  Kyrie watched the salvanae leave, and he felt a sadness in him, a deep sadness that he could not explain, a sadness of beauty and music. He turned toward Agnus Dei. She stood by him in human form, her clothes tattered, blood and mud smearing her skin. Ash covered her face, and her hair was a mess of tangles. Yet still she was beautiful to Kyrie, more beautiful than the salvanae or their song.

  "Will you go live in Salvandos now?" he asked her, suddenly fearful. "You've often spoken of wanting to be a true dragon, to forget your human form." Strangely Kyrie wanted to cry again, and he hated his weakness. For so many years, fire and pain had blazed within him, but this day was a day of tears.

  Agnus Dei snorted so loudly, it blew back a strand of her hair. "Pup," she said, hands on her hips, "there are some things dragons can't do."

  "Like what?" Kyrie asked.

  She walked toward him in the mud, grasped his head with both hands, and kissed him deeply. The kiss lasted for long moments, and Kyrie shut his eyes. Her lips were soft and full
, her fingers grasping in his hair. When finally she broke away, leaving him breathless, she said, "This. And I intend to do a lot of it with you."

  Kyrie laughed. His placed an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her hair. "I love you, Agnus Dei," he said, and suddenly tears filled his eyes again, and he turned away lest she saw them.

  She smiled and pulled his face back to hers. "Right back at you, pup."

  When they looked back to Benedictus, they saw that Lacrimosa had become a silvery dragon, and stood by her husband. She was only half his size, so delicate and lithe by his bulky form, her scales like starlight.

  "Do you really think we can do it?" Kyrie asked her and Benedictus. "Can we rebuild Requiem?"

  Benedictus looked at the horizon, beyond which Requiem lay, then at Kyrie. "I don't know, Kyrie. But we're going to try."

  Kyrie raised the amulet. It felt hot in his hand, still humming and trembling. "We have the griffins with us. I sent them to Confutatis, but I can bring them back. With their help, we can—"

  "No," Benedictus said, shaking his head. "The servitude of griffins to Osanna or Requiem ends today. Hand me the amulet, Kyrie, so that I can destroy it."

  Kyrie gasped. He shook his head wildly. "No! Benedictus! I mean, Your Highness. I mean... I don't know what I'm supposed to call you now, but we can't release the griffins. Dies Irae still has armies that can hunt us. You yourself said so. The people of Osanna hate us, and—" Kyrie blew out his breath, exasperated. "I can't believe this. We need the griffins." He clutched the amulet so tightly, it hurt his palm. "With their power, we can reclaim our land, and reclaim our glory."

  Benedictus only gazed at him, waiting for Kyrie to end his speech. When finally Kyrie could think of nothing more to say, Benedictus spoke softly.

  "We cannot rebuild our land with the slavery of others, Kyrie. We have seen where that can lead. Enslaving the griffins was the downfall of my father; once Dies Irae stole the amulet, his rule crumbled. No, Kyrie. Griffins cannot speak, but they are wise beasts. They can be as wise as men, when they are free. If we can rebuild Requiem, it will be with justice and light, not as overlords of another race."