What am I doing here? he thought. I vowed to nevermore fly to war. To nevermore see fire, blood, a loved one die. He wanted to turn and leave, to fly back to the ice palace. To hide from war. From pain. From those soft, echoing words.
Terra... I found him.
But had she found him? Had that small body, burned beyond recognition, truly been Kyrie?
Are you still there, Kyrie? Still in the ruins of Requiem, waiting for me to find you?
"If you're alive, Kyrie, I'll help you," Terra whispered, quiet enough that Memoria could not hear. "I'll burn the mimics who hunt you. I'll take Adoria's Hands."
His sister flew around him, green scales splashed with blood. "Ready, Terra?"
He nodded, staring down at the giant. "We dive. I'll fly to his front, you to his back. Let's claw out his neck."
Terra bared his fangs, outstretched his claws, and swooped.
Dragons! To me!
Requiem, rally here!
Griffins! They killed the children, they—
The words of old battles screamed in the wind. Terra snarled and swooped. He swooped like in the old days, like he would swoop against Osanna, diving to kill, to burn, to fight for his life. To death. To glory. To pain.
Kyrie! Kyrie, do you hear me?
His howl rang. He reached the Giant King.
Claws flashed. The giant swung his fist. Terra dipped, flew under the blow, and lashed. His claws hit the giant's thigh.
Nothing. No blood. No mark. The giant's skin was tough as the thickest leather armor. Memoria flew behind the giant. She bit his shoulder, then cried. Her fangs would not pierce his skin.
The Giant King roared. Terra and Memoria flew up. The giant's fists swung, and one hit Terra's tail. It knocked him into a spin.
"Terra!" Memoria cried. The lesser giants cheered around them.
The king reached out, fingers thick and bloated like dead seals. Terra flapped his wings, narrowly dodging the blow, and soared.
"The damn thing seems made of boiled leather," Terra muttered. He circled a hundred feet above. The giant howled and stamped his feet below, grinning and drooling. Boulders flew. Terra flew left and right. One boulder grazed his side, chipping a scale.
"Leather? It felt like biting into iron," Memoria shouted. She flew beside him, wincing.
Terra growled. "Let's burn the beast."
"No fire, Terra! We can't harm Adoria's Hands."
"Then we'll burn the smaller ones."
Terra soared, spun, and dived. Boulders flew around him. One hit his left horn, knocking it off. He howled in pain and blew fire at a row of lesser giants. They blazed. More boulders flew. Terra soared, spun, flew at them again. He roared more fire. More giants burned and fell.
"Memoria, you all right?" he shouted.
She flew alongside the fort's parapets, blowing more flame. Giants caught fire. Their boulders fell, cracking the parapets.
"I'm fin—" she began, and a boulder slammed into her side.
She fell.
"Memoria!"
Terra flew across the fortress, moving toward her. He flew too low. The Giant King reached out. Those bloated fingers grazed him. Terra flew higher. For an instant, he thought he was free. Then the king's hand closed around his leg.
The giant pulled him down like a man tugging a struggling bird. Terra howled and lashed his tail. He hit the king's face, but the giant only laughed. His fingers tightened around Terra's leg, nearly breaking the bone.
"Memoria!" he cried. Where was she?
The king pulled him near. His mouth opened, showing rotten, yellow teeth. His breath assailed Terra, as foul as mimics. His tongue reached out. He's going to eat me alive.
Terra blew fire, not caring if he harmed Adoria's Hands. His flames hit the king's face, crackling and showering sparks. The king howled, released Terra's leg, and brought his hands to his face.
Terra flapped his wings. The giant was rubbing his eyes, slapping the fire off his face. Terra swooped, shouted, and drove his remaining horn into the Giant King's left eye.
The giant roared so loudly, Terra thought his eardrums would tear. He pushed, driving the horn deep into the giant's head. The giant howled. His hands clutched him.
Terra couldn't breathe. The giant wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. Terra had never felt such pain. His ribs creaked. He felt one crack. He thought his organs would burst. The world turned black. Stars floated.
I'm dead, he thought. It ends here. I'm dead and so is Memoria. I'm sorry, sister. I'm sorry. I love you.
He flapped his wings. Somehow he kept kicking. He clawed, but the arms kept squeezing.
His eyes rolled back.
"Terra!"
He heard thudding wings. He heard cries, howls, tearing flesh. The arms released him.
Terra fell to the floor. He looked up and saw Memoria slashing the giant's face. She was like a raven attacking a bear. Her fangs and claws dug into the giant's eyes, nose, mouth. The king howled and swiped at her. Blood covered her scales; she was more red than green.
Up. Up! Fly, dragons of Requiem!
Howling, Terra pushed himself to his feet. His chest blazed. It felt like knives were digging inside him. He flapped his wings and soared.
He slammed into the giant, clawing. One claw caught the giant's slobbery lip, and tugged, and tore. Blood showered.
"It won't die!" Memoria shouted.
"It will! Bring it down!"
The king's hands thrashed. One fist hit Memoria. She cried and fell back. Another fist thudded into Terra's side, but he ignored the pain. For an instant, he saw the king's face. There was barely anything left; his head was a mess of blood and burned flesh. Disgust filled Terra. He flew, spun, and lashed his tail.
His tail's spikes drove into what had been the giant's head. One pushed through the ear, deep into the brain.
The king howled.
Terra pulled back. Memoria flew beside him. They hovered, panting, staring.
The Giant King swung his arms uselessly. He mewled. Mucus and blood flowed down him. He took one step toward them, knees shaky. He took a second step... and faltered. His knees hit the fortress roof, shaking the structure. He reached out feebly, swinging his hands as if swatting flies.
"Let's put him out of his misery," Terra said.
He flew to the giant's right. Memoria flew to his left. They clawed, lacerating the giant's neck.
The Giant King gave one last, gurgling yowl. He clutched his face and mewled like a demonic baby.
Then he fell.
He hit the fortress, cracking the stone. He kicked his legs, then lay still.
Terra collapsed beside the body. Breathing hurt. Memoria landed beside him and nudged him.
"More giants are climbing the walls," she said. "Let's grab Adoria's Hands and get out of here."
Terra nodded and grunted. He limped toward the dead Giant King. The body lay facedown, hiding Adoria's Hands beneath it. Terra shoved the body, but it felt like shoving a mountain.
"Come on!" Memoria shouted, shoving with him.
Giants howled behind them.
Boulders came flying.
Terra and Memoria leaped aside. The boulders hit the Giant King, shoving the body several feet back.
Terra roared fire. The flames shot across the fortress and hit a dozen giants. Memoria blew fire behind him, burning more giants. More boulders flew. The two dragons scattered, and the boulders hit the dead king again.
"Terra, the hands!" Memoria shouted.
The boulders had shoved the king, revealing Adoria's fingertips. The king's body still buried the palms.
"Hold them back!" he shouted to his sister.
Memoria nodded and flew in circles, blowing fire at the climbing giants. Flaming rocks flew around her. Terra shoved the giant's body, pushing with his feet. He howled with the pain. The body barely moved.
"Hurry, Terra, more are climbing!"
Terra grunted, shoving, driving forward. White pain blinded him. He shouted... and
the body moved a foot. Terra reached down, snapped the chain, and tugged it. The hands came free.
"I've got them!" he called hoarsely. "Fly!"
Clutching the hands, he flapped his wings, shooting straight up. Memoria flew beside him, eyes narrowed, blood trickling. Boulders blazed around them like flaming comets.
In his mind, Terra saw the flaming arrows, the hordes of griffins, the fire upon Requiem. He saw their old home: the mosaic floor, the balcony in sunrise, the vineyard at sunset, the garden where he'd play with Memoria and Kyrie.
"I never left you," Terra whispered as he flew. His eyes stung. "You're still with me, Requiem. Now. Always."
If Memoria heard him, she said nothing, but she gave him a sad smile.
They flew from the Jet Mountains. They flew over plains of ice and snow. They flew over this land of exile, this frozen world where they hid from fire and pain. Blood had spilled here today, and fire burned, and for the first time in years, Terra felt the ice inside him melt.
I remember. I was a soldier. I was a brother. I am that man still.
He looked at Memoria, his little sister, the person he'd stayed alive for. He nodded at her.
"It's time to go home."
GLORIAE
She knew this place. She had hunted here. She had burned here. She had shed her mother's blood here and nearly killed her father.
Hostias. Once a shadowy, ancient forest. Today it was a land of burned trees and memories of war.
I rode my griffin Aquila over these woods, she remembered, cutting the sky, the wind in my hair. I was a warrior of glory, of gold, of grandeur... and of lies.
"Are you sure you know the way?" Gloriae asked her mother. "The land looks different now."
Lacrimosa nodded, walking beside her. "I know. I visited your father here every new moon. I will find the crater."
Her mother's tunic and leggings were tattered, her cheeks were ashy, and her lavender eyes looked too large, her face too thin. When Gloriae looked at her own body, she saw more dirt, more tatters, more scratches and bruises and thinned limbs.
I was a huntress of jewels and might, a light upon Osanna, a champion of justice. And now... now we are humble, and dirty, and gaunt. Gloriae missed those old days, missed the glory. But what glory had that life truly held? Only glory to the blind, she thought. And I was blind. Dirt and hunger, when suffered for truth, are nobler than gold and lies.
Gloriae looked over her shoulder and drew comfort from the sight of their host—marching statues with pulsing Animating Stones in their breasts. Roughly hewn from boulders and columns, they were craggy, bulky things, slow to move and rough to touch. Frost and snow covered them. Their features were mere chips, eyes narrow slits, mouths harsh lines. Though their first statues—the dragon and the maiden—had carved them only recently, they seemed to Gloriae like ancient things, gods of earth and stone and wisdom. The age of the stone appeared in every nook and bump upon them.
"They make a bloody racket," Agnus Dei muttered, walking beside Gloriae. The statues crackled with every step, a sound like grinding rubble. "The mimics will hear."
Kyrie was walking with an arrow in his bow. He snorted. "Let them hear. Our statues beat them to pulp last time. They can do it again."
But last time we fought on our turf, and now we march upon theirs, Gloriae thought, but said nothing. She knew that attacking a place was harder than defending it. Kyrie would learn that today, she suspected. She pulled down her helmet's visor, a gilded mask of her own face. Behind it, she felt like a statue herself, blank and expressionless, made for killing.
"I recognize this place," she said. She pointed at a frozen stream that snaked between craggy boulders shaped like trolls. Rushes had once grown along it; they had burned away in the war, but the boulders were unmistakable. She had camped here with her griffins once. "We're almost there."
Lacrimosa nodded. "Ben's hut was near. We would walk here many times."
And this is the place where I nearly killed Kyrie, Gloriae thought, but said nothing. It seemed so long ago. Dirt for gold. Truth for glory.
They kept walking. The charred trees rose around them, creaking in the wind, heavy with snow and icicles. Soon Gloriae heard a sound from ahead: creaking, hammering, grunting. She sniffed and smelled rot on the wind. We're near.
"Gloriae," said her twin, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are a brave warrior. You will fight well today."
When Gloriae turned her head, she saw Agnus Dei staring at her with somber eyes. She's afraid, Gloriae realized. And so am I.
She nodded. "You will as well. You are a warrior, Agnus Dei. I've seen you fight. I have fought you myself. Yours is a steel heart."
The sounds grew louder as they walked. Thump thump and twang. Hammering. The creaking of ropes. And above it all the grunting, squealing, and screaming of mimics.
"Stop," Gloriae said, raising her hand to halt the others. The statues too ceased walking; when still, they looked like nothing but boulders with the hint of men's shapes.
"What is it?" Kyrie asked.
"We make too much noise. I'll scout ahead. Wait here."
She left them between the burned trees. As she walked, she drew Per Ignem, and the blade caught the light. My blade is thirsty for your blood, Irae, she thought as she walked. You gave me this blade. You gave me these steel-tipped boots. You gave me this steel armor and this steel soul. A snarl found her lips. If you are here today, these weapons you gave me will be your death.
The sounds from ahead grew louder. Thump. Twang. Squeals and shouts. Move faster, maggots. Get this dirt out of here. Screams and clashing metal. And above it all, a stench of rot that filled Gloriae's helmet and made her growl.
She stepped over a fallen bole, climbed a hill of burned birches, and beheld the Animating Stone mine. She knelt behind fallen trees and watched.
A ditch and wooden palisade surrounded the mine. Behind these crude fortifications, Gloriae saw a crater the size of the amphitheatre in Confutatis. It was clear of brush and dust rose from it. Tents, scaffolding, and wagons of dirt covered the crater. In the center, a shaft led underground.
Gloriae narrowed her eyes, examining Dies Irae's forces. Mimics patrolled the crater, their arms burly, their chests broad. Some seemed to be workers; they carried shovels and buckets. Others were warriors; their arms ended with blades instead of hands. Gloriae counted thirty workers and fifty warriors.
"Is that all?" she whispered, raising an eyebrow. This mine is the key to Irae's power. Are these all his guards?
Frowning, she walked back to the others. She found them ahead of the statues, lighting their torches and arrows. Their faces were somber, their eyes dark, their fingers tight around their weapons.
"What did you see?" Kyrie asked her. Ash and mud covered his face.
"Fewer than a hundred mimics," she said. "This worries me."
Kyrie snickered. "You're worried about a hundred mimics? We smashed a thousand back in Requiem."
Lacrimosa seemed to understand faster. "Exactly, Kyrie," the queen said. "That's what worries Gloriae. This mine is valuable to Irae. Why guard it with a mere hundred mimics? Where is his army?"
Kyrie rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear me? We smashed his army in Requiem."
Agnus Dei groaned and punched his arm. "Pup, you are denser than a statue's backside. Don't you remember what the mimic head said when Gloriae questioned it? Irae has thousands of mimics left. Why aren't they guarding the mine?"
Kyrie rubbed his arm and glared at her. "Because they're preparing to invade Requiem, that's why. Maybe they're invading it already, while we're here in Osanna. Dies Irae underestimates us. He always has. So he guards this place with a hundred mimics and thinks it's safe."
Gloriae nodded slowly. "Maybe, Kyrie. Maybe. But I'm worried. Let's proceed cautiously."
"You mean, let's be extra careful not to die?" Kyrie snickered again. "I think we've all become rather good at that already, Gloriae. If you think it's some elaborate trap and want to
turn back, say so. Otherwise, let's storm the damn place and smash it."
Gloriae looked at Lacrimosa. "What do you say, Mother?"
Lacrimosa stared toward the mine. Her lips tightened and she drew Stella Lumen. She nodded.
"We need that mine. Whatever horrors await us in its darkness, we will face them." She raised the blade, and stars seemed to shine within its steel. "Fire and stone."
Gloriae bared her teeth. "Fire and stone."
She spun around and drew Per Ignem. She raised the blade in one hand, her torch in the other. With a shout, she began running. The others answered her cry, and she heard their footfalls behind her. The statues ran too, their feet shaking the earth, their cries like mournful thunder and cracking mountains.
Waving her torch, Gloriae leaped over a fallen bole and charged toward the mine.
The mimics below howled. Their stench hit Gloriae like a fog. Balls of flame flew over the sharpened stakes that surrounded the mine. Gloriae batted one aside with her torch. Another hit her breastplate and fell to her feet. Gloriae spat. It was a flaming human head.
"Bring down the walls!" she shouted. A thousand statues of Requiem ran around her. "Knock them down!"
The statues jumped into the ditch that surrounded the mine. As they crashed down, the mine shook. They began smashing the palisade, cracking and toppling the sharpened logs. More flaming heads flew from within the mine. Gloriae snarled as she dodged them.
Soon the palisade fell, and statues filled the ditch like stones filling a mote. Behind the smashed fortifications, Gloriae saw the mimics waiting. They waved blades, howled, and leered.
"Kill them all!" Gloriae shouted and ran toward them. She ran over the mimics in the ditch, as if they were stepping stones, and leaped through the smashed palisade.
Two mimics ran toward her. They had no hands; their arms ended with blades. Those blades swung at her. Gloriae ducked, dodging one blade, and parried the second with her sword. She tossed her torch and burned one's face. She leaped up, spun, and swung her sword. The second mimic's head flew. Before the first mimic could recover, she thrust her blade and pierced its chest. As it howled, she lifted her torch and swung it left and right. Soon the mimics burned.
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 61
