Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  Umbra trembled in delight. "Show me more."

  He took her past the Poisoned, and to a field where thousands of nightshades coiled. They shrieked, took flight, and roiled above them. They looked like storm clouds, creatures of black smoke, thunder, and lightning. Their eyes blazed like stars. Their mouths snapped, showing and hiding smoky white teeth.

  "They hunger for weredragon souls," Dies Irae said. "The weredragons will not have a chance to use their Beams this time. The nightshades will swoop from the clouds and break them."

  Umbra panted. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes closed. "More, my lord."

  He led her past the nightshades into a field drenched with blood.

  "Here, Umbra. My proudest creations."

  She screamed in delight. "Sun God!"

  Five thousand mimic dragons roared before them. They took flight and circled above, showering droplets of blood. Their wings were made of human skin. Their bones and flesh were sewn together from thousands of bodies. Fifty Animating Stones pulsed inside each one's breast. When they screamed, the sound shook the earth.

  He looked at Umbra. She held her hands to her chest, gasping.

  "This army will descend upon Requiem," he told her. "The weredragons have defeated scattered enemies before. Now they will face an army such as the world has never seen. Soon we will have their heads."

  She stared at him, eyes blazing, lips parted. She panted. Such cruelty in this one, he thought. Such strength, such hatred, such fire.

  When Gloriae had served him, she had never shown fire, only ice. Gloriae had always been so cold, so calculating. But Umbra... this one was a demon's daughter, a creature of shadow and malice. Dies Irae pulled her toward him, clutched her throat, and squeezed her body. She gasped and her eyes shone.

  "You will bear me sons," he said.

  She bared her teeth. "Sons who will lead. Sons who will bring fear to the world." She clenched her fists. "Sons who will rule a land with no weredragons."

  He pushed her to the ground. She lay in the dust and mimic blood, looking up at him. He tore her bodice open, exposing her goose-bumped flesh, and she growled. He took her violently, until she screamed, and the mimic dragons screamed above. When he was done, he dragged her through the mud, and returned with her to the city walls. They climbed atop the tallest guard tower. They stood above this grand army, this sea of dark wonders, this glory and power and lust and blood. He raised his arms, and they howled. The mimics brandished blades, the snowbeasts snapped their teeth, the skeletons clanked, the swamp lizards growled, the Poisoned screamed, the nightshades screeched, the dragons roared.

  Dies Irae smiled.

  He put his arm around Umbra's waist.

  "We march now," he said. "We march to victory and glory. You will march by my side."

  She drew her daggers and snarled. "I will kill by your side."

  "We march to Requiem!" he called to his army. Their howls shook the city. The sun itself seemed to tremble. With dust and noise and fury, they marched.

  LACRIMOSA

  She wiped Agnus Dei's forehead, kissed it, and lifted the bowl of soup.

  "You must eat, Agnus Dei. Kyrie made soup."

  She held the bowl up to her daughter's lips. Lying on a pile of furs, Agnus Dei sipped, winced, and spat it out. She coughed.

  "The pup... he's flying too slow. We must reach Salvandos. We have to keep flying."

  She coughed again and trembled. Her face was pale, and her eyelids fluttered. More sweat beaded on her brow. Lacrimosa had lit a fire at the cave's entrance, but it was still cold here, so cold that she was always shivering. She rearranged the furs covering Agnus Dei.

  "Salvandos is far away, sweetheart. You flew there already with Kyrie, do you remember? It was in the summer. Drink the soup, Agnus Dei. It'll help you."

  She held the bowl up again, but Agnus Dei only coughed when she sipped and shivered. Her forehead was so hot. Lacrimosa kept the bowl up, and sip by sip, Agnus Dei managed to drink half the bowl.

  The campfire cast flickering light against the cave walls. This place lay far north in the ruins of Requiem, in the mountains where few dragons had ever flown. It was a hidden place, but Lacrimosa did not feel safe here. We hide, but he'll find us, she thought. Dies Irae's armies will scour this land, and they will find us anywhere we hide.

  She touched her daughter's cheek. "It's time," she whispered.

  Agnus Dei shut her eyes, mumbled, and nodded.

  Lacrimosa pulled back the furs, revealing Agnus Dei's left arm. It ended with a wet bandage, one of only two bandages they owned. Blood and pus painted the bandage red and yellow. It smelled of infection.

  Wincing, Lacrimosa unpeeled the bandage. Agnus Dei grimaced and clenched her fist. Sweat poured down her face.

  "This will hurt," Lacrimosa whispered.

  But Agnus Dei did not hear. She had lost consciousness again. Her eyes moved under her lids, and her lips mumbled.

  Lacrimosa had only one bottle of spirits left; Gloriae had found it in an abandoned inn ten leagues east. Lacrimosa took a deep breath and splashed the wound. In her sleep, Agnus Dei winced, trembled, and mumbled.

  "Dada," she said. "Dada, please, they'll hurt you. You have to fly. You have to fly, Dada."

  Struggling to keep her fingers steady, Lacrimosa replaced the old bandage with the new one, then wiped the sweat off Agnus Dei's brow. They had done all they could. They had filed down the bone's sharp edges, removed the burned flesh, and sewn it over with skin. And yet the stump still festered. For the past two days, Agnus Dei only woke briefly from unconsciousness. Lacrimosa worried that soon she would not wake at all.

  She shut her eyes. Please, stars. Please. I lost my husband; don't let me lose my daughter too.

  Wings flapped, and Lacrimosa looked outside the cave. She saw two dragons block the stars. Soon Kyrie and Gloriae landed at the cave, shifted into humans, and walked in.

  "More spirits," Gloriae said. She held out a bottle. "We flew for hours, and finally found the bottle in a town two leagues east of the border."

  "And another blanket," Kyrie said, holding it out. "Warm fur. We also found flour, a jar of honey, and three jars of apple preserves; they're in my pack."

  They walked to Agnus Dei and knelt by her. Kyrie kissed her lips, and Gloriae wiped her forehead.

  "Watch over her," Lacrimosa said. "Call me if she wakes up."

  Before they could answer, she stood up and stepped outside the cave. Her eyes stung and she shivered. The night was cold, and her breath frosted before her. She stood on the mountain and looked at the stars. The Draco constellation shone there.

  "Winter has come," she whispered. "It has covered Requiem in snow, and it has covered my heart in ice. I'm scared, Ben."

  She looked at the Draco stars. They seemed so cold, so far from her.

  "He's coming here to kill our family," she whispered. "He'll have armies, greater than any we've seen. And... I don't know how to face them, Ben. I don't know how I can protect our children." Her eyes dampened. "Agnus Dei is hurt, and her fever won't break. I'm scared." She tightened her cloak around her. "Are you up there, Ben? Are you watching over me? If so, give me strength. Guide me, Ben, for I'm afraid and lost."

  The stars glistened, casting rays of light, blurring behind her tears. Lacrimosa rubbed her eyes, but the stars still seemed misty. Strands of starlight spread out from them like cobwebs. Lacrimosa gasped. The strands moved through the night and connected the stars in her constellation, forming the shape of a dragon. In the star maps she'd read in childhood, scribes would connect the stars with lines, accentuating the shape of each constellation. Does some scribe now paint these lines in the sky? Ben, are you up there, pulling a great brush between our starlit halls? As she watched the starry dragon, Lacrimosa felt peace spread through her like those strands of starlight.

  She stepped back into the cave.

  "Children!" she called. "Come outside. Come see."

  Gloriae and Kyrie leaped to their feet and drew their s
words.

  "What is it?" Kyrie said.

  Gloriae snarled. "Mimics."

  Lacrimosa shook her head. "No mimics. Come look. Let's carry Agnus Dei outside. I want her to see this."

  Gloriae and Kyrie exchanged uneasy glances, and cautioned that Agnus Dei could not be moved, but Lacrimosa insisted. Alcohol and bandages had not staved off infection; if anything could save Agnus Dei, maybe it was this miracle.

  Agnus Dei moaned when they carried her outside, and her skin burned, but once the starlight hit her, her face seemed calmer to Lacrimosa, her skin cooler. They lay her on a fur blanket in the night air.

  "Look, Agnus Dei," Lacrimosa whispered, holding her daughter's hand. "Your father is up there. He's watching us."

  Agnus Dei's eyes fluttered open. She looked at the dragon in the stars. A smile touched her lips.

  "Hi, Father," she whispered. "I'd wave, but... Mother's holding one of my hands, and I think Dies Irae is holding the other."

  Gloriae gaped at the sky. The starlight glinted in her eyes, painted her hair silver, and kissed her cheeks. "What does it mean?" she said, voice awed.

  Lacrimosa pulled her close and kissed her cheek. "Hope," she whispered.

  DIES IRAE

  They marched through the empire, feet shaking the earth, howls splitting the sky.

  Dies Irae rode before his army upon a black mimic horse, its fur matted and its mouth foaming. When he looked over his shoulder, he snarled and grinned. A hundred thousand warriors marched behind him, covering the countryside like spilling oil, swallowing the empire beneath them. Thousands of nightshades and mimic dragons circled above, shrieking.

  "We draw near Requiem, my lord," Umbra said, riding her mimic horse up beside him. She wore no armor and bore no sword. She was a Blood Wolf, and she rode to war as one, garbed in black. Her leather boots rose to her knees over her leggings, and six daggers hung from her belt.

  Dies Irae nodded. "The ruins of Requiem lie beyond the mountains ahead." He scanned the horizon and saw a town below those mountains. Chimney smoke rose in fifty columns; there would be survivors there. His grin widened. "We will stop before crossing the mountains, and we will dine."

  Umbra licked her lips.

  They rode toward the town, the army roaring and drooling behind. When they got closer, Dies Irae saw a hundred cottages, a temple, and several fields. Soon he rode through the streets, Umbra at his side. His army surrounded the town like ants around a fallen piece of fruit. The streets were empty.

  "The peasants are hiding," Dies Irae said.

  Umbra looked around, eyes narrowed. "Like rats."

  "Burn them out, Umbra. Burn these rats' nests."

  Soon she held two torches, and ran from house to house, setting their thatch roofs afire. The rats began to flee. They ran out of their houses, haggard peasants, their clothes tattered, their faces gaunt. Some began to run to the mountain, wailing.

  "Dine, my lovelies!" Dies Irae called. "Dine upon them."

  The mimic dragons swooped. The nightshades flowed between them. The mimics and monsters stormed from house to house, grabbing whoever they could. It only took moments, and the lucky ones feasted. The unlucky creatures, those who could not catch a peasant, growled and screamed. Some began to eat one another. Blood splattered the town.

  Umbra emerged from the smoke, manhandling a peasant girl. She held a dagger to the girl's neck.

  "I found one for us to dine on," she said.

  Dies Irae smiled. The girl was thin but comely, about the same age as his daughters. She had red hair, white skin, and teary eyes.

  "We too will dine," he agreed.

  He dragged the wench to the town square, backhanded her, and shoved her against the well. Umbra sat on the well's edge, smirking, and held the girl down as Dies Irae lifted her skirts. The girl struggled as he took her, and Umbra laughed. When he was done, he tossed the weeping girl toward a group of mimics.

  "Enjoy," he told them.

  They leaped upon her, drooling and howling, and she screamed.

  Soon his army moved again, marching, shuffling, crawling, flying. They howled, they drooled, they screeched and moaned and growled and hissed. They oozed into the mountains, leaving the light of Osanna behind, spilling into the mountains of Requiem's ruin.

  "Soon I will have you, Lacrimosa," Dies Irae whispered as he rode at the van. "Soon I will hurt you, Agnus Dei and Gloriae. Soon I will break you, Kyrie Eleison. You will be my basest mimics, pathetic slaves to my warriors' lusts."

  Umbra fingered her daggers. "Your glory will soon cover the world."

  The ruined town faded in the distance. Requiem rolled ahead.

  AGNUS DEI

  Strange dreams filled her world.

  She saw strands of starlight form a dragon in the stars. She saw mimics bearing her face, fifty thousand strong, marching through snow and ash. She saw her father, clad in dark green and silver, ruling in a marble palace, his eye sockets empty and bleeding. They smiled at her, this dragon, these mimics, her father, smiles that flowed around her head. When she reached for them, they vanished and laughed, flowing into the sound of sad pipes and wind through tunnels.

  "Mother," she whispered. "Mother, the Poisoned... I have to burn them. I have to. I have to save the scrolls."

  Mother held her hand. "They're gone, sweetness. The Poisoned are gone."

  Agnus Dei blinked. "But we need to find the Beams, Mother. They're in a swamp, I think. The pup said something about a swamp."

  He touched her cheek, that pup, his face blurry. Was he truly there? She heard him.

  "Rest, kitten. Don't worry about the Beams."

  She tried to see him, to blink, to clear her eyes. But she saw only tunnels stretching before her, diving under mountain and ruins. Skeletons surrounded her. Was Father one of these skeletons? She tried to find him.

  "Father! Father, don't worry. You can be a skeleton. I'll be one soon too. I don't care, but Mother will say I'm too thin."

  Her left hand hurt. She could feel the fingers twisting. Someone was burning it.

  "No, Umbra, please," she begged and wept. "Let me go."

  But the woman only chained her down, and stars, no, please, no....

  She heard the hiss. A sword being drawn. His sword.

  "Please, Irae... Mother, help me!"

  Stars, it's gone. My hand is gone. How could it be gone? Where is it?

  She had to find it. She had to. The pup will hate me without a hand. He'll leave me. He'll go be with Gloriae. She had beautiful hands.

  Tears streamed down Agnus Dei's face, so hot. I'm like him now. I'm like Dies Irae.

  "He'll take my other hand," she whispered, trembling. "Please, Mother, he'll take my leg. Please don't let him."

  Arms embraced her. "I won't let him, sweetheart. I promise."

  Where was she? Who was holding her?

  "Mother!"

  She fell into tunnels. She wanted to stay with her mother, with her sister, with her pup. But the tunnels pulled her down. Pain! Fire on her hand. The fingers moved.

  I am mimic. My hand is cruel. My hand will hurt me. Stars, it's gone. How could it be gone? Please, Irae, please.

  She saw her hand before her. It rose from the shadows, speckled in blood. It wielded an axe toward her. Please, don't cut my other hand....

  The hand grew from a mimic with four arms and a bull's head. Its hair was long, black, curly, rustling with bugs. Its eyes mocked her. It smiled, showing pointed teeth and a slobbering tongue.

  "Agnus Dei," it hissed. "He will cut your head. He will make you a mimic like me." It tightened her hand around the axe. Worms crawled over the knuckles.

  She trembled. She tried to kick, to fight it, but was too weak. The darkness pulled her. The heat! Fire burned her hand, her forehead, her lungs. Sweat drenched her.

  "The nightshades broke me," she whispered. "They're pulling me into their worlds, into the shadows."

  The darkness shattered her, tugged her into pieces, drowned her. Fire everywh
ere. Pain and fire. Her eyes rolled back. I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry, Gloriae. I'm sorry, Kyrie. I don't want to leave you. I love you all so much.

  Golden light rolled across her, like the hint of dawn over a swaying field.

  "Mother?"

  The heat left her.

  The pain vanished.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw light like feathers. It tickled her face. Blue wisps floated above them; bits of sky. She heard rustling leaves, and saw rolling hills, rays of light between birches, and columns of white marble. Figures robed in white floated before her, harps in hand.

  "Requiem?" she whispered.

  Snowy mountains and valleys of pines spread before her. A great mountain soared ahead, all in gold, dragons flying around it, bugling, sunlight on their scales. They were true dragons, wingless, limbless, flying serpents of brilliant colors, of fluttering white beards, of crystal eyes.

  "Salvanae!" she said. She smiled softly under their light. "I am here again, in Salvandos. I remember flying here with Kyrie."

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. Was this the afterlife—to spend eternity with the salvanae? Hope welled within her and she wept. This was a good place to die.

  I'll wait here for you, she swore to her family. One day we'll fly here together.

  A golden salvana flew toward her, coiling and uncoiling. His white moustache and beard fluttered in the wind. His eyes were the size of melons, spinning and glowing.

  "Nehushtan!" Agnus Dei cried. "It's me. Agnus Dei. Do you remember?"

  She found herself lying in grass in human form. Nehushtan floated above her. He lowered his head, so that his beard brushed against her. His head was larger than her human body. His eyes blinked, his long white lashes fanning her.

  "Wake, daughter of stars," he said, his voice like harps. "The song of Requiem calls you."

  Stars floated around her, spun, streamed. But I am awake, she thought. I live among the stars.