Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  "Yes, you look just like her... just like my Gloriae."

  She shivered. "My lord, I don't know Gloriae, I—"

  He backhanded her. She fell to the floor, bleeding.

  "You will suffer, Gloriae, for betraying me," Dies Irae said. "You disobeyed me. You freed the nightshades. You fly with the weredragons."

  The girl trembled on the floor. "Please, my lord, I don't know who Gloriae is. My name is Alendra, I... I...." She wept. "I'm only a peasant girl, my lord."

  "You are a betrayer, Gloriae," he told her, and when she tried to rise, he beat her down. "You will suffer now."

  The nightshades screamed inside him. He could feel their maggots squirm in his wound, the gaping hole of his left eye, the eye Benedictus had taken from him. The light of the maggot eyes burned, painting the girl a blood red. She whimpered and cowered, and Dies Irae laughed. The smoke of nightshades danced around his fingertips as he grabbed her, shook her, hurt her.

  He soon stood above her dead body. Blackness like ink coiled in the air around him, and he laughed.

  LACRIMOSA

  From the distance, Lacrimosa could hear the youths fighting. She could not make out the words—only raised voices, clanking steel, and shouts. She stood up to rush over, to find the young ones and break them up.

  Benedictus also stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.

  "Let them settle their conflicts," he said, voice soft. The firelight painted his face orange and gold.

  Lacrimosa shook her head in frustration. "They're fighting, Ben."

  He nodded. "Let them fight. They're young, angry, and strong. All three of them are. They need to clash and lock horns; that's their way. They'll blow off steam, even if they bash one another around a bit."

  Lacrimosa sighed. "Maybe you're right. Were you and I ever so young and angry?"

  They sat down again by the fire. Lacrimosa leaned against her husband, and Benedictus placed his arm around her. They watched the firelight crackle among the ruins, lighting the smashed statues and burned trees.

  "We were that young once, yes," he said. "But you were never angry. You were strong too, and you're strong now. But yours is the strength of water. Kyrie and Agnus Dei are fire. Gloriae is ice."

  "And what are you, Ben?" she asked him.

  He let out a long, deep sigh and stared into the flames in silence. Finally he said, "I am nothing now but old memories and pain."

  She played with his hair, black streaked with gray. "Something weighs heavy on you," she said.

  He nodded but said nothing. Lacrimosa wished she could ease his pain; she saw it every day in his eyes. She saw the burning of Requiem there, as she saw it around her. She saw Lanburg Fields, and the mountains of bodies, and all those who'd died under his banners. And she saw new pain there today; he had seen something during the past moon, but Lacrimosa knew he needed time to reflect upon it. Maybe he would never speak of it. She kissed his cheek.

  "You are strong, my lord, and brave and noble. You are my husband, my king. You are a hero to the young ones; even to Gloriae."

  She ran her fingers across his cheek, his skin rough and stubbly. He pulled her closer to him.

  "They would fight even as toddlers, the twins," he said. "Do you remember?"

  She smiled. "I do. They would fight over dolls, over candies...." She laughed softly. "Do they fight over Kyrie now?"

  "That boy was trouble from day one. Do you know, I spoke to him in Lanburg Fields. I blessed him before the battle." Benedictus sighed. "I thought they had all died, Kyrie too. I thought Gloriae was gone from us forever. I thought Agnus Dei would die under the mountain. We've cheated death for so long, Lacrimosa. How much longer can we flee?"

  She took his hands in hers. His hands were so large and rough; hers looked tiny and white atop them.

  "We're done fleeing," she said. "The griffins are our allies; they'll fight with us when the time comes. And we'll find the Beams. We'll seal the nightshades and defeat Dies Irae."

  "And what then?" he asked. "Even with Irae dead, another will replace him. One of his lieutenants will inherit the throne, and be as cruel, as heartless, as ceaseless as Irae was in hunting us."

  A voice came from across the fire.

  "No," spoke Gloriae. "I will sit upon the Ivory Throne then."

  Lacrimosa saw her daughter step from behind burned trees. The girl's golden hair cascaded across her shoulders, strewn with ash. Her leggings were torn, her boots muddy, her armor's glint dulled. And yet she walked nobly, and her eyes stared with green ice.

  "Daughter," Lacrimosa said. "We cannot ask this of you. You belong with us now, here in Requiem."

  Gloriae stood by the fire, hand on the hilt of her sword. "I am Vir Requis, yes. My loyalty is now to my true father, King Benedictus. We will rebuild this land. I promise it. And I will not watch an heir to Dies Irae destroy it again. The people of Osanna know me. They have known me for years as Dies Irae's daughter, as second-in-command of their empire. If we kill Dies Irae, they will accept me as their ruler. As empress of Osanna, I will forge peace with Requiem, and help her grow."

  Lacrimosa felt a twist in her heart, and she winced. For so many years, Gloriae had lived away from her, a ruler of Osanna in marble palaces. Had she finally reclaimed her daughter only to lose her again? She stood up, walked to Gloriae, and hugged her. At first Gloriae only stood stiffly. Finally, hesitantly, she placed her arms around her mother.

  A shriek rose.

  Lacrimosa and Gloriae broke apart and drew their blades. Benedictus leaped up, raising his crossbow.

  The shriek sounded again.

  A nightshade.

  "But it's not night yet," Lacrimosa whispered, looking from side to side.

  Kyrie and Agnus Dei came running toward them, weapons drawn. Their eyes were wide with fear.

  "Behind us!" Agnus Dei cried. "Ten nightshades in the daylight. They saw us." She jumped over a fallen column, shifted into a red dragon, and flew. Kyrie became a blue dragon and took flight beside her.

  Lacrimosa touched Gloriae's cheek. "Shift now; you can do it. I'll help you fly."

  Soon the five Vir Requis flew as dragons, the ruins far beneath them. When Lacrimosa looked over her shoulder, she saw ten nightshades rise from the ruins like pillars of smoke. The beasts screamed and chased them.

  "I thought nightshades only came out at night!" Lacrimosa shouted in the roaring wind.

  Gloriae, now a golden dragon, narrowed her eyes and snarled. "Dies Irae changed them—bred them with other beasts, or tortured them to overcome their fear of sunlight."

  When Lacrimosa looked again, the nightshades were closer. They swirled, dispersed, collected themselves again, and moved like ink in water. Their eyes glinted and mocked her. Their howls rose, and Lacrimosa realized that she could hear voices in those howls.

  "Lacrimosa...," they screeched. "Lacrimosa, return to me...."

  She realized it was Dies Irae speaking through them, his voice broken into a million hisses rising together. She shivered.

  "Let's see if they still like dragonfire," she said, turned her head, and blew flames at them.

  They howled. The other Vir Requis also turned to blow fire, and the flames covered the nightshades.

  The nightshades screamed so loudly, what ruins remained standing below collapsed. They emerged from the inferno, teeth drawn, as if the fire only enraged them. The Vir Requis kept flying.

  "Into those storm clouds!" Benedictus said, pointing. The clouds were leagues away, a tornado spinning beneath them. Lacrimosa didn't know if they'd reach them in time, but she nodded. They flew, the nightshades screaming behind. Lacrimosa felt them tug at her soul, and she squinted, howled, and blew fire at them.

  Kyrie was lagging. His wings stilled, and his eyes rolled back. A nightshade flew behind him, reaching out tendrils of smoke to Kyrie's tail.

  Lacrimosa raced toward Kyrie, grabbed him, and shot fire at the nightshade. It screeched, blinded, and Lacrimosa caught Kyrie. She slapped him hard with h
er wing. He gasped as if jostled from sleep, narrowed his eyes, and flew again.

  A nightshade wrapped itself around Benedictus's leg. He roared fire at it, and flapped his wings, but could not free himself. Gloriae raced toward him, and blew fire at the nightshade.

  "I am your mistress, Gloriae of Osanna!" she screamed. "You will leave this place."

  The nightshades laughed mockingly. The Vir Requis shot more flames, and Benedictus managed to free himself. They kept flying. Lacrimosa tried to blow more fire behind her, to blind to nightshades, but only sparks left her mouth.

  "My fire is low!" she shouted. The others seemed in the same predicament. When they blew, only small flames left their mouths. They would need rest and food to rebuild the fires inside them.

  "We're almost at the clouds," Benedictus shouted over the wind and screeching nightshades. "We'll lose them in the storm."

  With the nightshades shrieking and tugging at them, the Vir Requis shot into the storm.

  Rain and wind lashed Lacrimosa. She screamed, but her voice was lost. Lightning flashed. She could barely keep her eyes open. She flapped her wings, but could not move forward. Wind caught her, she spun, righted herself, and strained to keep flying.

  "Ben!" she shouted.

  She could see him just ahead, and then winds caught him, and he flew backwards and spun. Lightning flashed again. The rain felt like a million daggers. The sound was deafening. Nightshades flew around her, screeching, spinning, tossed around like rags. Lacrimosa saw a flash of golden scales ahead.

  "Gloriae!" she called, but heard no answer.

  She flapped her wings, snarled, and tried to reach her daughter.

  That was when she saw the tornado.

  It spun before her, horrible in its sound and fury. It looked to Lacrimosa like a great nightshade, or like the terror in her heart, the pain that ran between her and her countless kin beyond the stars. It spun toward her, and Lacrimosa shut her eyes. She flew in the roar, wings useless, and Lacrimosa saw before her silver harps, and flowers on marble tiles, and sunlight between birches. She floated as on clouds, and a smile found her lips.

  "Daughters," she said with a smile, reaching out her arms, and the toddlers ran into her embrace. They laughed, sunlight upon them, clad in silk, flowers in their hair. The marble columns rose around them, and hills of trees bloomed.

  Lightning rent the world

  Thunder boomed.

  She opened her eyes, and saw rain, and saw nightshades screeching and fleeing. Lacrimosa flapped her wings, eyes stinging, the wind and rain and memories crashing against her.

  "Lacrimosa!" cried a distance voice, barely audible. A black shape flew toward her, burly, reaching out.

  "Ben!" she shouted.

  Their claws touched, and then the storm blew them apart. Nightshades swirled around them, dispersing into wisps. The tornado sucked up some of the creatures. Others it tossed aside. Lacrimosa managed to grab Benedictus, and she clung to him. The storm spun them and finally cast them out into a world of soft rain, grumbling thunder, and rainbows.

  Lacrimosa looked around her. She saw the tornado a league away, moving westward and away from her. Nightshades spun within it. One nightshade broke free and flew toward her. Lacrimosa and Benedictus blew fire at it, the last flames they could muster. Alone, the nightshade dared not face the firelight. It screeched and fled.

  "Where are the young ones?" Lacrimosa shouted. The wind was still roaring.

  Benedictus pointed. "I see Kyrie and Agnus Dei."

  The blue and red dragon came flying from above. They had flown above the storm, and soon hovered by Benedictus and Agnus Dei.

  "Where's Gloriae?" Lacrimosa asked, looking around frantically.

  "Gloriae!" Agnus Dei called, also searching.

  Lacrimosa flew back toward the storm, seeking golden scales. The others flew around her, also seeking. Few nightshades remained. What nightshades attacked them, they beat back with firelight. The tornado was retreating rapidly, leaving a land of puddles and shattered trees. Was it taking Gloriae with it?

  "Gloriae!" Lacrimosa shouted. "Can you hear me?"

  She flew, scanning the ruins below, and her eyes caught a glint of gold. She flew closer and gasped. A golden dragon lay upon a burned tree below, legs limp, head tilted back.

  "Gloriae!" Lacrimosa called and dived. The other dragons dived with her. Lacrimosa reached Gloriae first. She hovered above her daughter, fear claiming her. Was Gloriae, only recently returned to her, taken from her again?

  No. Gloriae was alive. Her left wing moved, and her eyes fluttered.

  "Mother," the girl whispered.

  Lacrimosa touched her daughter's cheek. "I'm here, Gloriae, I'm here, you're fine now."

  Benedictus helped lift Gloriae from the burned tree, and they placed her on the ground.

  Gloriae blinked, and her lips opened and closed several times before she could speak. "I fell. I'm... I'm not good at flying."

  When Lacrimosa examined her daughter for wounds, she found bruises and scrapes, and an ugly gash along her thigh, but no broken bones. Soon Gloriae was able to stand, gingerly test her limbs, and walk.

  Benedictus scanned the skies. "The nightshades are gone for now. But they'll be back soon. Shift into human form, everyone. We'll be harder to spot. Those bastards still hate firelight, but they now tolerate the sun."

  They turned human again, and Lacrimosa saw that bruises covered Gloriae, and blood seeped from her thigh. She tried to tend to the wound, but Gloriae held her back, eyes icy.

  "I'm fine," the girl said. "I've suffered worse."

  Lacrimosa shivered. She knew when Gloriae had suffered worse wounds; it had been when she still served Dies Irae, and Kyrie had gored her with his horn. She shoved the thought aside.

  When she turned to the others, she saw that Kyrie too was battered. A bruise was spreading beneath his eye. His lip was fat and cracked. He clutched his side, as if he'd been hurt there too.

  "Kyrie, did you also fall?" she asked in concern.

  Kyrie glanced at Agnus Dei, who shot him a venomous stare.

  "Uh, yeah," Kyrie said, looking away from Agnus Dei. "I also fell."

  "Fell onto Agnus Dei's fist, maybe," Benedictus muttered to himself.

  Agnus Dei glared at him and clenched those fists. "Did you say something, Father?"

  "Yeah," he said, voice gruff. "I said let's go. We walk from here. We go to Osanna, and we seek the tombs of her kings."

  They walked through the puddles, mud, and ruins, tattered and bruised, heading into the east.

  BENEDICTUS

  They travelled off road. The forests of Osanna lay wilted. The trees were white and shrivelled up, like the limbs of snowbeasts. Most had fallen over, spreading white ash across the land.

  "There, in the distance," Benedictus said. "Two of them."

  The others muttered and lay down, pulled cloaks over them, and lay still. Leafy branches, mud, and thorns covered their cloaks, sewn and fastened with string and pins. Soon the Vir Requis appeared as nothing but mounds of leaf and earth.

  The nightshades screeched above. Benedictus lay under his cloak, still, barely daring to breathe. Finally the shrieks disappeared into the distance, and he stood up. The others also stood, looked at one another uneasily, and resumed walking.

  "There are more every day," Kyrie said.

  Benedictus nodded. "And they're larger, too. Irae is changing them. I don't know how, but he is. He's making them stronger, faster, tougher. Next time they attack, firelight won't daunt them."

  Kyrie shuddered. "How is he doing that?"

  "I don't know. But I'm hoping he doesn't know about the Beams. They're our last hope."

  They continued to walk, not speaking, their boots rustling the dirt and snapping branches. It was their twentieth day of walking since leaving Requiem's ruins.

  Twenty days of hiding under cloaks, of seeing the ruin of the world, Benedictus thought. They had seen barely any life. Few animals remained. People were ev
en fewer. Sometimes they saw armored soldiers travelling the roads, even several knights on horseback. Mostly they saw nothing but toppled forts, bodies, and devastation.

  Benedictus looked at Lacrimosa. She walked by his side, leaves in her pale hair. Her lavender eyes seemed so large, bottomless pools of sadness. He took her hand.

  "I'm sorry," he said to her.

  She looked at him. "For what?"

  The young ones walked behind, speaking in hushed voices; they could not hear.

  "I'm sorry that you must walk like this, Lacrimosa. Wearing leaves and dirt. Eating old rations and whatever skinny beasts we can hunt. You should be wearing silk, and dining on fine foods, and living in a palace."

  She laughed softly. "Is that who you think I am? A pampered queen? Ben. I'm your wife. I'm your love, and you are mine. I would walk by you even through the tunnels of the Abyss."

  He lowered his head. "You are strong, and brave, and I love you. But I've failed." He looked behind him at his daughters. "I've failed them."

  Lacrimosa narrowed her eyes. "You are keeping them alive. You are leading them."

  Benedictus looked ahead, to the leagues of rolling ruin, the wilted trees, the toppled walls, the animals that lay rotting on the earth. "I could have killed Dies Irae at Lanburg Fields. I pitied him. I let him live. I could have killed him under the mountain, but I was not strong enough. I'm weak, Lacrimosa. I don't know what strength I still have."

  She squeezed his hand. "I know, Ben. We'll do it together. We'll find the Beams. We'll make the world safe for the young ones. I'm with you, now and always."

  Benedictus turned to look at the youths.

  Agnus Dei walked with a crossbow on one hip, a sword on the other. Her brown eyes were narrowed, forever scanning the world for a fight. Benedictus knew that among the youths, she was the most like him. She had his dark eyes, the black curls of his hair, the fire in her belly. Dies Irae thought she was his, that he had fathered the twins when raping Lacrimosa. When Benedictus looked into Agnus Dei's brown, strong eyes, he knew that was false. He knew she was of his blood.