"Stop this!"
Dies Irae's voice filled the hut. Agnus Dei blinked and saw him standing above the fray, glaring.
"Mimics," he said, "grab the twins."
Agnus Dei tried to fight them. She kicked and punched and even bit a mimic's maggoty flesh, but only fire could hurt them. Soon she kicked and squirmed in one's grasp. A second mimic held onto Gloriae, its hand covering her mouth.
"Face me like a man, Irae!" Agnus Dei screamed. "You and me. Or are you a coward?"
He laughed, though there was no joy to it; it was a cold laughter, a cruel laughter that made Agnus Dei shiver.
"Dear Agnus Dei," he said. "Feisty as ever. Beastly as ever. You will go first. Mimics, bring her to the block."
Gloriae screamed into the hand that gagged her. Agnus Dei growled and kicked, but could not free herself. The mimic holding her began carrying her to the doorway. She screamed, struggled, and kicked the air. The mimic's grip was iron.
"Gloriae!" she cried, eyes burning. "Gloriae!"
Her chin bloody, Umbra laughed. "Your sister can't save you now. She'll go next." She spat onto Agnus Dei. "Scream louder. I want to hear it."
Dies Irae left the hut, and the mimic carried Agnus Dei after him. Umbra followed, laughing, spinning her dagger in her hand.
Stay strong, Agnus Dei told herself. Stay strong. Stars, whatever happens, stay strong. For Kyrie. For Mother. For Gloriae.
She saw the block ahead.
She felt the blood leave her face. Ice seemed to wash her belly, and she trembled.
"Stars, no...."
It was made of wood. Oak, she thought. Blood stained it. The block rose from the snow between the huts, iron rings embedded into it.
"Chain her down."
Agnus Dei kicked. For an instant, she thought she could break free. But two more mimics grabbed her. They forced her to her knees before the block.
"Irae!" she screamed. "I'll kill you! Fight me! Fight me, I dare you."
Umbra laughed again, grabbed Agnus Dei's hair, and pulled her head down. The block was cold and smooth against her cheek.
"Oh yes, you are a loud one," Umbra whispered, her cold lips brushing against Agnus Dei's ear. "I'm going to enjoy watching this. I bet you'll squeal like a pig."
The mimics surrounded her. Manacles were placed around her wrists. More chains bound her legs.
"Gloriae!" Agnus Dei screamed, eyes burning, throat aching, belly roiling. Tears sprang into her eyes.
Umbra grabbed her wrist. She pulled Agnus Dei's arm across the block and chained it down. Stars, no, please, Agnus Dei prayed. Please. Stars, no....
She heard the hiss of a sword being drawn.
"Mother," Agnus Dei whispered. "Mother, please...."
Through burning eyes, she saw Dies Irae walk toward her, holding a drawn sword. His face was blank. His eye looked dead. His face was pale, a white mask. There is no humanity left.
He raised his sword.
"Mother!" Agnus Dei cried, tears in her eyes.
The blade swung down.
Pain.
Blood.
She screamed.
Stars. It's gone. It's gone. My hand is gone. How could it be gone? Mother, please....
Umbra laughed.
Agnus Dei wept.
Dies Irae turned and walked away. Blood stained the snow, and distant trees creaked under a mournful wind.
KYRIE ELEISON
He crawled up the snowy hill, teeth chattering, clothes icy. Snow filled his mouth and clung to his stubble. At the hilltop, he lay on his belly behind a fallen tree. He parted the tree's branches and gazed into the valley below. He felt the blood leave his face. He turned his head.
"Lacrimosa!" he whispered down the hillside. "Come quick."
She nodded and crawled up beside him. She stared into the valley too, and her lips trembled.
"Stars," she whispered.
The camp sprawled across the valley below. A ditch and a wall of sharpened logs defended it. Beyond the palisade, blood stained crude huts. Every few moments, mimics would drag a prisoner from a hut, chain him against a butcher's block, and swing a sword. The severed body parts were sorted into bloody hills. Kyrie saw one pile of legs, another of arms and hands, a third of heads. The hills rose twenty feet tall. Some body parts—those deemed too frail, it seemed—were burned in ditches.
Kyrie had seen enough.
"We have to save them," he said, voice strained. "We can't wait a moment longer."
What if Dies Irae dismembered Agnus Dei and Gloriae while he hid here, watching helplessly? Kyrie stood up and made to run downhill.
"Wait, Kyrie!" Lacrimosa said. She grabbed his tunic, pulling him back. "Hide."
He spun to glare at her. She stared up from the cover of burned branches, her face pale but her eyes determined. He shook himself free.
"Lacrimosa," he said, "they're building mimics down there. And not just from old bodies now. He's killing people and sewing mimics out of them." He drew his sword. "We have to save the twins before it's too late. Stars, we have to save all these people."
He couldn't help but imagine Agnus Dei turned into a mimic, stitched together with foreign body parts, drooling, rotting, hunting him. He shuddered.
Lacrimosa pulled him down behind the fallen logs. "Kyrie, if you run down there brandishing a sword and torch, they will kill you, and they will turn you into a mimic, along with my daughters." Her voice was strained but steady, her eyes red but dry. "If the girls are alive, we'll save them. But not by rushing to our own deaths."
Kyrie raised his chin. His heart thrashed. "I'm willing to die for Agnus Dei."
"And some good that would do her." Lacrimosa opened her pack, revealing a hundred Animating Stones. "I didn't grab these from the mine because I think they're pretty. We'll build new warriors."
"From what?" Kyrie gestured around him. "I see no statues here, Lacrimosa. I see nothing but snow, ice, and burned trees."
Lacrimosa gave him a small, mirthless smile. "Dies Irae burned these trees and killed the Earthen who worshipped them. I believe that today, these trees will fight for us."
Kyrie stared at her in silence. She stared back. Finally Kyrie sighed and nodded. If it can save the girls, it's worth a try.
They crawled back downhill and began to move among the trees: old oaks, twisted and blackened, but still strong; thin birches, their bark burned off; charred pines, their roots still deep. These trees are dead, but we will give them new life. Kyrie and Lacrimosa moved silently, placing Animating Stones into holes that had once held birds, squirrels, and insects. Trees creaked. Icicles snapped and fell. Branches rose. A mournful cry like wind passed through the charred forest, a rustling of twigs, a shifting of roots, a sadness and rage.
Kyrie thought of Fort Sanctus, where Lady Mirum had raised him on fish, bread, and tales of the ancient days. In several of those tales, the trees would rise to fight the wars of men. Those trees always rustled with green leaves, and could talk and sing. There was nothing as beautiful here, but Kyrie still felt like a hero from one of Mirum's old stories.
As the trees creaked and moved, he whispered, quoting from one of her tales. "We are the children of the earth; our hosts are the rocks of the field, the trees of the forest, and the song in the wind...."
Lacrimosa came to stand beside him. She drew her sword and raised her torch. The trees crowded around them, raining ash and snow, their icicles snapping, their boles creaking. Their roots spread around them like the legs of spiders, twisting and seeking purchase.
"Stay near me, Kyrie," Lacrimosa said softly. "We'll find the girls."
They began to march.
The trees' roots groaned, dug into the snow, and dragged the boles forward. Their branches kept snapping, falling black and broken. They were frail things, burned and mournful, moaning in pain. But they marched. A hundred charred, twisted trees raised their howl, and gained speed, and soon began to charge downhill. Hostias Forest rose in rage.
Kyrie snarled. He
waved his sword and cried with them. He ran among the trees, boots kicking up snow. Lacrimosa ran beside him, Stella Lumen raised in her hands. Snow flurried. The hillside shook. At the camp below, mimics squealed and rushed to the walls.
Kyrie shouted. The trees roared. They crashed into the palisade under rain of blood, steel, and fire.
GLORIAE
When she heard Agnus Dei screaming outside, Gloriae snarled, clenched her fists, and trembled. Prisoners pushed against her on every side; she could barely move between them. Elbowing and shoving them, Gloriae managed to reach the hut's door.
"Agnus Dei!" she shouted, eyes stinging. She slammed her shoulder against the door. It wouldn't budge. She slammed again, and her shoulder throbbed with pain.
"Dies Irae, let her go!" Gloriae shouted. She slammed against the door again and again, and kicked it, but couldn't break it.
"Fight me, you coward!" she shouted.
She heard Umbra laughing outside. The mimics howled. Agnus Dei's screams faded. Is she dead? Stars, did he kill her?
"Dies Irae!" she screamed and slammed against the door again. Her shoulder ached, but she didn't care. She needed to get out, to save her sister, to kill Dies Irae. She spun toward the other prisoners.
"Help me," she demanded. She panted and her hair covered her face. "Come on, help me break down the door."
The prisoners only watched her sadly. They were all too frail. They shivered in their rags, feverish, nearly dead with disease. They cannot help me, Gloriae realized, her chest rising and falling.
The door's lock clinked behind her.
Gloriae spun back toward it, growling, ready to kill whoever stood there.
The door opened, and Gloriae was about to leap... then froze.
"Oh stars," she whispered, and her knees shook. "Oh stars, no, please no...."
Dies Irae stood at the doorway, holding Agnus Dei before him. His face was icy, his eye dead, his mouth like a slit in leather. Blood stained his armor. Agnus Dei was unconscious, her chin against her chest. Her left arm ended with a bloody, smoking stump.
"Stars, Agnus Dei...," Gloriae whispered.
Dies Irae stared at her. He smiled a small, thin smile.
"The weredragon king took my left hand," he said. "So I will take the left hands of his followers. Yours will be next, Gloriae. But first, make sure this one lives. I want her alive and screaming when I cut the rest of her."
He tossed Agnus Dei forward. Gloriae caught her, held her, and lowered her onto the floor.
"I'm here, Agnus Dei," she whispered and touched her sister's cheek. "I'm here with you, I'll look after you."
Agnus Dei did not wake. Her breath was shallow, her forehead hot.
Rage blazed inside Gloriae. Her teeth clenched, and she spun around to leap at Dies Irae... but he slammed the door shut. Gloriae crashed against the door, but it was locked again. She could not break it. Outside, she heard Umbra's voice.
"Let's build a nice new mimic with her hand," the woman said and laughed.
"Very well, come with me," Dies Irae answered. Gloriae heard their footfalls leave the hut, and their voices faded in the distance.
"Glor... Gloriae...."
Agnus Dei was whispering, voice hoarse. Gloriae rushed to her side, knelt by her, and touched her hair.
"I'm here, Agnus Dei."
Her sister's eyes fluttered. She struggled to raise her head. A tear streamed down her cheek. Her lips moved, struggling to speak, but then her head fell back, and her eyes closed.
Wincing, Gloriae examined her wound. Dies Irae had cauterized it, burning the stump to staunch the blood flow. Gloriae had seen this done in battle before. The fire could close the arteries and kill infection, but it left a messy wound of sizzling, raw flesh. Gloriae gritted her teeth.
"I need bandages!" she called out.
A prisoner hobbled toward her, holding a rag. Gloriae grabbed it and wrapped Agnus Dei's stump.
"This isn't enough," she whispered. "I've seen such wounds before. It will fester. Blood will keep trickling. It will not heal this way." She looked around the hut, panting. "We need to file down the bone, so it doesn't cut the wound. We need to remove the burned flesh, and sew the arteries shut, and seal the stump with a flap of skin. We... we need medicine, and tools, and healers." Gloriae's eyes stung, and she rubbed them. "Bring me some tools! She'll die if we don't treat her. Why don't you move?"
The prisoners only stared at her. Gloriae trembled. She looked at them; so many others suffered the same amputations. So many others were already infected, bleeding, dying. The same would happen to Agnus Dei, she realized. And the same will happen to me.
Gloriae lowered her head, jaw clenched. So this is how it ends, she thought. He'll cut us piece by piece, and turn us into a dozen mimics.
She cradled Agnus Dei's head in her arms and kissed her forehead.
"I'm so sorry, sister," she whispered. "I'm so sorry we only had this short time together. I love you, Agnus Dei. I'm with you now. I'll be with you always."
Her twin's lips moved, and her brow furrowed, but she wouldn't wake. Snow and sweat drenched her tunic. Blood stained her bandage. Gloriae wished she had a blanket for her, a roaring fire, and water for her to drink. Will she die today in my arms? If she does... that will be a kindness to her. If she lives, Irae will drag her out again, and cut off more. Gloriae shuddered. And soon he will cut me.
Roars sounded outside. Feet thumped through the snow. A mimic squealed.
"Man the palisade!" Dies Irae shouted. "Man your posts, mimics."
Gloriae crouched, cocked her head, and listened. Further away, she heard another sound. She couldn't recognize it. It sounded like moaning wind and creaking wood, but almost human, a cry of sadness and rage.
"Agnus Dei!" shouted a voice in the distance. "Gloriae!"
Gloriae jumped, shouting. Tears filled her eyes.
"Kyrie!" she cried, jumping up and down, jostling the prisoners around her. She laughed and wept. "Kyrie, Kyrie!"
Eyes blurry, Gloriae knelt by her sister. She wept over her and cupped her cheek.
"Kyrie is alive!" she said, her tears splashing Agnus Dei's face.
Agnus Dei's eyes fluttered opened. She smiled wanly. "I knew he would be," she whispered.
Gloriae leaped back onto her feet. She shoved her way between the prisoners toward a window. It was a small window, only several inches tall and wide. Gloriae stared outside and gasped. Charred trees were moving through the camp, swinging their branches against mimics. The mimics hacked at them, but the trees kept charging, breaking through them.
"They animated the bloody forest!" Gloriae shouted and jumped up and down. "Agnus Dei, they brought a hundred trees!"
Gloriae looked back at Agnus Dei, and saw her twin smiling weakly from the floor. She turned back toward the window, stuck her face against it, and shouted.
"Kyrie! Kyrie, we're in here! Break open the door."
Where was he? Gloriae couldn't see him. She saw only dozens of trees crash against the mimics. Blood flew. Branches snapped and fell. She glimpsed Umbra racing between the trees, torching them.
"Kyrie!" she shouted.
A voice answered her. "Gloriae! Gloriae, is that you?"
Mother! It was Mother's voice!
"I'm here, Mother!" Gloriae shouted. "In the hut by the ditch. Get the trees to break the door down."
Across the hut, Agnus Dei cried out: "Mother!"
The lock creaked. The door swung open.
Gloriae rushed toward it, prepared to see Kyrie or Mother. Instead, she found herself facing Dies Irae and a group of mimics.
"Kill the prisoners," Dies Irae told his mimics. "Kill them all."
The mimics rushed into the hut.
Gloriae growled and leaped toward them.
One mimic swung an axe down toward Agnus Dei, who lay at its feet. Gloriae growled and slammed into the mimic, knocking it back.
The mimic Warts swung a sword at her. Per Ignem! My own sword! Gloriae ducked, and the
blade whistled over her head. She grabbed Warts's arm and pulled it down. Per Ignem's blade hit the ground. Three more mimics rushed toward her. Dies Irae stood behind them, watching with a hard face.
Warts bit Gloriae's shoulder. She screamed. A spear lashed toward her. She dodged it and twisted Warts's wrist. Per Ignem fell. Warts's teeth pushed deeper into her flesh. Gloriae knelt, grabbed Per Ignem, and slammed its crossguard against Warts's head.
The mimic opened its mouth, screamed, and Gloriae's cut off its head. She swung the blade, and mimic blood sprayed.
"Pull her back!" Gloriae shouted to the other prisoners. "Get my sister back against the wall."
A dozen mimics faced her at the doorway, drooling and hissing. She slashed at them, spinning her blade, eyes narrowed, lips tight. Gloriae lived for this. She was a decent archer. She knew how to fight as a dragon. But swordplay... she had been born for swordplay. Per Ignem moved like a part of her. She snarled as she hacked and maimed. Mimics piled up at her feet, their arms and legs crawling and grabbing at her. She kicked them aside, shouted, and barrelled between mimics and through the doorway.
"Irae!" she shouted. She glimpsed him marching away, disappearing into a crowd of mimics. "Irae, you coward! Come fight me."
A shadow flew, and Gloriae raised her sword. Her blade hit a flying dagger, knocking it aside. The blades sparked.
"Hello, sweetheart," said Umbra. She came walking toward Gloriae, a dagger in each hand. Her black, chin-length hair swayed in the wind, and a crooked smile played across her lips. A second dagger flew.
Gloriae leaped sideways. The dagger glanced off her helmet, then hit the hut behind her. She snarled and ran forward.
A third dagger flew. Gloriae leaped, waving her sword and growling. The dagger hit her breastplate and fell. She swung her sword down.
Impossibly fast, Umbra drew two new daggers from her belt, crossed and raised them, and blocked her sword. Gloriae pulled her blade back, and a dagger slashed. She leaped aside, but the dagger sliced her arm. She growled and lashed her blade. Umbra parried. The woman was smiling, her eyes flashing.
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 65
