Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  Kyrie took deep, fiery breaths. Anger pulsed through him, tingling his fingers, but he forced himself to clench his teeth. Benedictus was right, he knew. He hated that it was so. Hated it! But he knew the king spoke truth.

  Wordlessly, lips tight, he held out the amulet in his open palm.

  Benedictus lifted it with his mouth, smashed it between his teeth, and spat out the pieces. Somewhere in the distance, a league away, rose the cries of ten thousand griffins.

  "They're free now," Lacrimosa said quietly. "They will no longer serve us, nor will they hunt us. May they find their way back to Leonis, their fabled land across the sea, and prosper there."

  Kyrie stood with arms limp, not sure how to feel. Without the griffins, the road ahead seemed impossible to travel. How could they rebuild Requiem now, just the four of them? Could they truly find more Vir Requis survivors? Did any even exist? Would Dies Irae heal and resume his hunt, or was he dead already? Kyrie did not know, and the world seemed darker and more confusing than ever.

  He thought of Lady Mirum, how she'd protected him for ten years in her fort, and knew the first thing he would do now. He would find her body. He would give her a proper burial. He would rededicate the fort in her name.

  "We return to Fort Sanctus," he said, and did not need to say more. The others understood and nodded. There his journey had begun; there it would end.

  Agnus Dei kissed his cheek, ruffled his hair, and said, "You are a pup." Then she shifted into a red dragon, all fire and fang, and took flight.

  Kyrie shifted too, and soon the four Vir Requis, perhaps the last of their kind, flew together. The clouds parted, and the dawn rose, and they flew into that good, golden light. The sunrise gilded the clouds, spreading pink and orange wisps across the land, and the stars still shone overhead.

  As they flew into that sunrise, Kyrie dared to hope, to imagine. The world was still dangerous for the Vir Requis. Many still feared them. Many would still hunt them. But as he flew now, his new family at his side, he breathed the cold air and smiled. He imagined flocks of thousands of Vir Requis flying, the glory of their magic. He would help rebuild that race with Agnus Dei, whom he loved more than life, and maybe someday, years from now, many dragons would fly again.

  "Requiem," he whispered into the dawn. "May our wings forever find your sky."

  AGNUS DEI

  As Agnus Dei flew beside her parents, a thought kept rattling in her mind. She chewed her lip, but could not rid herself of it. The wind blew around her, scented of morning and dew, and sunlight filled the sky, but Agnus Dei did not see this beauty. She thought back to the ruins of Requiem, where she had fought Gloriae the Gilded, and ice filled her belly.

  Father had spoken words to Nehushtan, words that kept echoing. "I still lead my people, though only five remain."

  Kyrie had not noticed, but Agnus Dei had.

  Five.

  Five Vir Requis.

  She looked at Mother and Father, and at Kyrie, and tears filled her eyes.

  "Mother," she whispered. Her whisper barely carried in the wind, but Lacrimosa still heard. She turned to face Agnus Dei, eyes soft.

  "Mother," Agnus Dei said. She hated that her voice trembled, that tears filled her eyes, but could not help it. "Mother, Father said that— He—" She trembled. "Mother, who is the fifth?"

  Lacrimosa was crying too. She smiled through her tears. "Agnus Dei," she said, "you have a sister."

  GLORIAE

  Gloriae was pacing the throne room when Dies Irae stumbled in, a shard of sword in his eye.

  Gloriae's jaw unhinged. For a moment she could do nothing but stare. Blood, mud, and ash covered her father. Fresh blood spurted from his eye and filled his mouth. He cackled as he limped into the throne room, stunned guards at his sides. Blood trailed behind him.

  "Benedictus!" Dies Irae shouted, mouth full of blood, and laughed madly. "He lives. He lives! He killed me. Daughter!" He collapsed at her feet.

  Blood spattered Gloriae's leggings, snapping her out of her shock. She raised her eyes to the guards. "Fetch priests!" she said. "And ready the griffins."

  Dies Irae laughed at her feet. He stared up at her with one eye. The other eye too seemed to stare up, if a shard of steel could stare. "The griffins abandoned us, Gloriae. Look what they did to me. Look what the weredragons did." He was weeping now.

  Priests burst into the room. Their servants carried a litter.

  "Take him to the temple," Gloriae ordered them. She allowed no tremble to fill her voice, no emotion to show on her face. She ruled Osanna now; she would rule with steel. "Pray for him. Let the Sun God heal him. If he dies, so will you."

  For an instant, hatred blazed across the priests' faces. Gloriae knew they were not used to hearing threats, not even from emperors. Yet they only nodded, placed the cackling Dies Irae on the litter, and carried him away.

  Gloriae stared at the blood smearing the marble tiles. Splotches of it stained her clothes. Finally her head began to spin. She wanted to follow the priests, to be with her father, but her feet would not support her. The closest seat was Father's throne, and she fell into it. For the first time in her life, she sat upon the Ivory Throne of Osanna.

  The lords and ladies of her hall gazed at her, shocked. Fury filled Gloriae, and she let her stare pierce them. "My father is hurt. Until he's healed, I rule in his stead. Now leave this place."

  As they left the hall, Gloriae shut her eyes. Blood pounded in her head. She clutched the throne's arms, and felt its power flow through her. Osanna. A realm of endless forests, towering mountains, great armies. Hers. From here flowed her dominion over the empire.

  Her eyes snapped open. She left the throne and strode across the hall. She did not walk to the temple. She would be of no use there. But there was something she could do now, something Father should have done years ago.

  Gloriae left her hall, walked down stairs, marched down tunnels, climbed down and down into the belly of the world. She walked for hours perhaps, lips tightened, eyes dry. She walked until she reached the chamber with the guards, where golden skulls bedecked iron doors, gazing upon her with glowing eye sockets.

  Gloriae stepped through that doorway and approached the Well of Night.

  She stood over the abyss and hesitated. The nightshades. Gloriae could not forget the time she saw them, how they had sucked her soul into their endless cavern, turned her to smoke and darkness. Then Gloriae remembered the steel shard in Father's head, the blood on his face, and the blood on her leggings. She remembered, too, the curse she carried now, the lizard curse Lacrimosa had given her.

  Gloriae took a deep breath, tightened her fists, and jumped into the well.

  She floated through darkness. It was calm, soothing, an inky blackness that caressed her.

  Then she screamed.

  The nightshades appeared around her, creatures that were the opposite of light, creatures of smoke and fear and blackness. Their eyes shone as diamonds, and she felt them tugging her spirit, pulling it from her body, as if it were wisps of steam.

  "Hear me!" Gloriae shouted. "I sit upon the Ivory Throne. I have the power to free you. I release you from this well! Emerge from the abyss and serve me."

  They swirled so fast, Gloriae was tossed in all directions, spun like a top, and shot into the air. She screamed and laughed and spread out her arms.

  "Fly into the world, creatures of night. I am your ruler now. I tame you now. Kill the weredragons! That is my order to you, the price I charge for your freedom. Hunt them until the last one begs for death."

  The creatures swirled around her, disappearing and appearing, teeth like shards of glass, bodies like clouds, eyes crackling. They laughed, a sound of storms. Gloriae's body was like a coin rattling in a cup. They flowed out of the well, raising her upon them, and swirled through the chamber. They howled and laughed and ballooned. Gloriae floated among them, high above the well. She tilted her head back, laughing, arms spread to her sides.

  I will kill them, she promised hersel
f. I will do what Father could not. I will rid the world of the weredragon curse.

  "I will lead you there," Gloriae said, a smile tingling the corners of her mouth. "I will lead you to Benedictus and Lacrimosa, and we will kill them."

  They flowed out of the chamber, down tunnels, up stairs... and into a world of dying daylight.

  BOOK TWO: TEARS OF REQUIEM

  KYRIE ELEISON

  Kyrie was collecting firewood when he heard thunder, shivered, and saw the smoke creature.

  The smoke was distant, a league away, but Kyrie could see there was something wrong about it. It coiled through the sunset, serpentine, moving toward him. A wisp of some campfire? A cloud? No. Whatever this was, it moved like a living creature. Kyrie's fingers went numb, and he dropped the branches he'd collected.

  "Agnus Dei!" he whispered through clenched teeth. "Where are you?

  She didn't answer. Kyrie tore his eyes away from the smoke and scanned the woods for her. In the twilight, he saw rustling oaks, birches, and elms. He saw fleeing animals: birds, squirrels, and a deer. But he could not see his companion.

  "Agnus Dei, where are you?" he whispered again. He dared not speak louder. "There's something coming over, and it doesn't look friendly."

  Still she did not appear, and Kyrie cursed and returned his eyes to the smoke. It was so close now, Kyrie could see that it was indeed alive. Arms and legs grew from it, and its eyes glinted like diamonds. Teeth filled its maw. Whatever this creature was, it was no wisp of smoke. It seemed to see Kyrie and approached him, soon five hundred feet away, then only a hundred, then a dozen.

  Kyrie considered shifting into dragon form. Like all Vir Requis—or at least, the five that remained after the war—he could become a dragon. He could blow fire, slash with claws, bite with fangs. But as the creature approached, Kyrie remained human. Turning into a dragon was dangerous; men hated dragons and hunted them. And besides, Kyrie doubted even dragonfire and fangs could kill this smoky being.

  Instead, he addressed the creature. "What are you? Turn back!"

  The creature seemed to laugh. Its laughter was like thunder, shaking the trees. It floated above Kyrie, thirty feet long and undulating. It wasn't made of smoke, Kyrie realized. It seemed woven of darkness, but even that was inaccurate. Darkness was merely the lack of light. This creature was the opposite of light, deeper and blacker than mere darkness.

  "Leave this place!" Kyrie demanded. He glanced around the forest. Where was Agnus Dei? He would not let this creature harm her. He had to protect her. He loved Agnus Dei more than anything; he would beat this creature to death with his fists, if he had to.

  "You...," the creature whispered. Its voice made trees wilt, turn gray, and fall to the forest floor. "...are... Vir Requis...."

  Kyrie wanted to attack. He wanted to flee. He wanted to find Agnus Dei. He wanted to do anything but just stand there, hearing that voice—no, not a voice, but merely an echo—a sound that made his insides shrivel up.

  "I...," he began. With fumbling fingers, he managed to draw his dagger. "You will...."

  He could say no more. All he saw was that creature of blackness, its diamond eyes, its teeth like wisps of white smoke. He felt as if he too became smoke. His soul seemed to leave his body, flowing from his nostrils and mouth. He could see his body below, wobbling on the forest floor—just a kid, seventeen years old with a shock of yellow hair and too many battle scars.

  And then he could see too much.

  He screamed. He saw the universe. Not only the three dimensions of his world, but endless others. His spirit was no longer confined to his skull. It spread through the forest, through the empire of Osanna, through the multitudes of dimensions beyond. So much space! So much pain. So much fear. Kyrie whimpered. He wanted to hide, to weep, but had no eyes for tears.

  "Please," he whispered. "Please, it's so... open. So much space. So much pain."

  The creature laughed, and Kyrie knew he would soon join it, become smoke and blackness and flow through the endless, empty spaces.

  "Agnus Dei," he managed to whisper. "I love you...."

  A voice, worlds distant, answered him.

  "This is no time for romance, pup. Get out of here, run!"

  Hands clutched his shoulders. Shoulders! Yes, he had shoulders, and a body, and a physical form. He had tears, he had a voice, had—

  "Pup, snap out of it!" said the voice. He felt a hand slap his face. He could feel! He could feel his body again. His soul coalesced, and his body sucked it back in. It felt like water flowing back into a jug. His spirit slammed into his skull, and he convulsed, and jumped to his feet. He hadn't realized he had fallen.

  "Agnus Dei!" he said. Tears filled his eyes. His beloved knelt above him, her tanned face so beautiful to him, her curls of black hair tickling his cheeks. "What, where—"

  She hoisted him to his feet. "Run, pup. Run!"

  She pulled him up, and they ran through the forest. When Kyrie glanced over his shoulder, he saw the black creature. It was chasing them, flowing between the trees. Every tree it passed wilted and fell.

  "What is that thing?" Agnus Dei cried as they ran.

  "I don't know," Kyrie said, boots kicking up leaves and dirt. He almost fell over a root, steadied himself, and kept running. "Don't look into its eyes, Agnus Dei. It did something to me. I'm not sure what. But don't look at it. Just run."

  "I am running, pup. And I'm a lot faster than you."

  "Agnus Dei, this is not the time for another race." He panted. "Everything is a competition with you, even who can flee faster from a flying smoke demon."

  The creature shrieked behind them. It was a sound like fingernails on glass. Kyrie and Agnus Dei covered their ears and grimaced while running. Birds fell dead from the sky. Bugs burst open on the ground, spraying blood. The creature shrieked again, and Kyrie screamed in pain; his eardrums felt close to tearing.

  It was dark now. The sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only red and orange wisps across the forest. The creature grew in darkness. When Kyrie looked at it again, it was twice the size.

  "I think it likes darkness," Kyrie shouted. It was rumbling and cackling behind him, and trees kept wilting. The boles crashed around them, maggoty and gray and crumbling.

  "Then we'll roast the bastard with dragonfire," Agnus Dei said. She leaped over a fallen tree, spun around, and shifted.

  Leathern wings grew from her back. Red scales flowed across her. Fangs and claws sprouted from her. Within seconds, she was a dragon. With a howl, she blew white-hot fire at the smoky creature.

  Kyrie ducked and rolled, the fire flowing over his head. He shifted too. Blue scales covered him, he ballooned in size, and soon he too was a dragon. He blew the hottest, whitest fire he could, hitting the creature head on.

  It screamed. Trees cracked. Boulders shattered. Kyrie too screamed, his ears thudding, but kept breathing fire. Agnus Dei blew fire too. And yet the creature lived, swirling and crying. Kyrie felt its tug, felt his soul being sucked out, drawn into those empty spaces. He shook his head and gritted his teeth, clinging onto himself.

  "We need light!" Kyrie shouted. "The light bothers it, not the heat. Let's light this forest."

  Agnus Dei nodded, and they began blowing fire in all directions. The trees, moments before lush and green, had wilted around the creature. They were now dry and caught fire easily. They crackled, blazing, and the creature howled. A crack ran along the earth, and sparks rained from the sky. The creature seemed to suck in the light. Wisps of light flowed into it, and it howled.

  "Leave this place!" Kyrie shouted to it. "There is light here, light that will burn you. Fly away into darkness."

  It howled, surrounded by firelight, and gave Kyrie a last glare. Its eyes were so mean, small, and glittering, that Kyrie shuddered.

  Finally it coiled, spun around, and fled into the night.

  Kyrie watched it flee, then turned to Agnus Dei, who still stood in dragon form. "Let's contain this fire," he said.

  She no
dded, and they shoved the burning trees into a great pyre. With dragon claws, they dug ruts around it, so it would not spread, and tossed the dirt onto the burning boles. They worked silently until the fire died to embers.

  Their work done, they shifted back into human forms and collapsed into the ash and dirt. Kyrie was bone tired. Blowing so much fire had taken a lot out of him, and he shivered to remember what the creature had done. Out of his body, his soul had glimpsed something... something Kyrie shuddered to remember. He pushed it out of his mind. He had seen a horror beyond the world he did not want to ponder.

  "You all right?" he asked Agnus Dei.

  She lay beside him, chest rising and falling as she panted. Ash smeared her cheeks and filled her mane of curls. He reached out, touched those curls, and kissed her cheek.

  She shoved him back. "Am I all right?" she said. "Oh, thank you for asking, brave hero, defender of distressed damsels. But if I recall correctly, you're the one who almost died. I had to show up to save your backside. So the question is, pup: Are you all right?"

  He grumbled and rose to his feet. "I'm fine, and I've told you a million times. You might be a couple years older than me, but don't call me pup."

  She stood up, brushed ash off her leggings, and smirked. "Okay, puppy pup." When he scowled, she walked up to him, mussed his hair, and kissed his cheek. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're all right. But you're still a pup."

  Kyrie looked to the night sky. The creature was gone, but he could still imagine it, and his belly knotted. "Have you ever seen anything like that? What was it?"

  Agnus Dei scrunched her lips and tapped her cheek. "I think it was a nightshade."