Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  He nodded, his eyes narrowing. They seemed to tell her: We will kill them all.

  Lacrimosa nodded and turned toward Terra and Memoria. She wanted to be stern, but when she saw them, she couldn't help it. She felt her face soften, and she smiled.

  "Terra," she said. "Memoria." She took their hands, and her eyes stung. "You have blessed us today. You have brought us new life, new love, new hope. Thank you."

  They bowed their heads to her.

  "My queen," Terra said, voice deep and gruff. He was only thirty, Lacrimosa knew—five years her junior—but she saw that white already invaded his temples, and lines already marred his brow.

  "How should we serve you?" Memoria asked, fear and determination in her eyes. She's so small, Lacrimosa thought. So delicate. But she was a soldier of Requiem. She will be a soldier again.

  Lacrimosa stared at the siblings. New Vir Requis. New survivors. Will they die today, leaving us so soon?

  "You two wear Adoria's Hands," she said, nodding at the hands they carried on chains. "You two can shift around mimics, which we cannot." She squared her shoulders. "Tonight, fly as dragons, and swoop, and blow fire. Shower the battlefield with flame. Burn all mimics who march upon the ground of Requiem."

  "We have burned them before," Memoria said.

  "And we will burn them again," Terra finished.

  Finally Lacrimosa turned to face Silva, priest of the Earth God. He stood by his horse, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. The wind blew his long beard and green cloak, and his eyes stared at her steadily.

  "Silva," she said. "For many years, Dies Irae hunted your priests, and burned your temples, and now he has murdered your people and turned them into his mimics. He murdered many of my people too. I'm proud to fight with you against him. Tonight let us fight side by side. We will lead the ground forces of our camp. The others will fight from above; we will face Dies Irae on the field."

  His sword's grip and crossguards were made of twisting roots, like the old roots that had formed Requiem's throne. He drew the sword. Lacrimosa drew Stella Lumen, and they touched their blades.

  "We will face him on the field," Silva agreed.

  The sun disappeared behind the horizon. The Earthen lit torches, and the salvanae blew lightning above. War drums thudded in the east. Howls rose, a hundred thousand voices. The earth trembled. The squeals and grunts of beasts echoed among the ruins.

  "It has come to us," Lacrimosa said. She took a deep breath, fighting to steady her fingers and the thrashing of her heart. "The great battle of our war is here. May we fight it well."

  And if we must, may we die well.

  She looked them over one last time. Her daughters. Kyrie and his siblings. The true dragons, the griffins, the children of Osanna. They stared back, eyes solemn, lightning crackling above them.

  "It begins," she whispered.

  She looked to the east and saw countless red eyes and shadows.

  The battle of King's Forest began.

  GLORIAE

  She ran, boots kicking snow, as the howls and shadows descended upon King's Forest. Men were running and griffins taking flight around her.

  "We need griffins!" she shouted. "Griffins, hear us."

  But they were soaring from the ground, shrieking, flying into battle. Gloriae cursed and tried to shift, but could not. Mimics were near.

  "Volucris, give us griffins!" Kyrie shouted, running beside her. Snow flurried around him.

  Great wings thudded, billowing Gloriae's hair. Volucris landed before them, talons digging into the earth. Dies Irae's old mount. He towered over her and lay down his wing.

  "Agnus Dei, ride him!" Gloriae shouted. "He's strong and swift."

  Agnus Dei nodded. Clutching her Beam, she ran up Volucris's wing and sat bareback upon him.

  "Fly, Volucris!" Agnus Dei cried. The golden skull glowed and hummed in her grasp. His wings blowing snow, his talons digging, Volucris took flight. The griffin king soared into the night, screeching, and drove into a storm of mimic dragons and nightshades. Already Agnus Dei's Beam blazed, shooting a ray that seared the storming nightshades.

  Standing beside Gloriae, Kyrie pointed. "There's another griffin."

  They ran through the snow. Men ran around them, shouting, swords drawn. Mimics crashed into the battlefield, roaring, their teeth and eyes red in the torchlight. Lightning blazed above them as the salvanae roared and fought the mimic dragons.

  "Kyrie, you fly this one," Gloriae said when they reached the griffin. "His name is Malathor; he was one of Lord Molok's griffins. Fly, Kyrie! Fly now!"

  Kyrie nodded and leaped onto Malathor. With shrieks and thudding wings, they soared into battle. Fire and light blazed around them. Kyrie's Beam seared through the night, and nightshades screamed and burned.

  Gloriae scanned the battlefield, but the griffins had all taken flight. She saw them above—crashing into mimic dragons, swooping down to cut swamp reptiles, slashing at nightshades. On the ground around her, men and mimics still fought.

  "Griffins!" Gloriae shouted. "I need a mount!"

  "I'll mount you, girl," hissed a mimic, lunging toward her. She recognized the hunchbacked, warty form and matted red hair. Lashdig, the chief miner. It swiped its claws at her. Gloriae growled, leaped back, and swung her sword. Lashdig's arm flew, then came crawling through the snow toward her. She kicked it aside, spun, and cut Lashdig's legs at the stitches. The mimic fell and began crawling forward on its arms.

  Gloriae raised her eyes. The nightshades were everywhere. They swarmed between the salvanae and griffins, wrapping around them, sucking their souls like a glutton sucking marrow from bones. Salvanae and griffins rained from the sky, helpless to hurt the nightshades. Agnus Dei and Kyrie shot the Beams in all directions, slicing through the demons of smoke, but they were overwhelmed.

  Lashdig grabbed her leg and cackled. "You will be our slave, Gloriae." Spiders spilled from its mouth.

  Gloriae kicked the creature, swung her sword, and cut off its head. She ran through the snow, hacking at mimics.

  "Griffins!" she shouted.

  A golden figure swooped.

  Tears sprang into Gloriae's eyes.

  Feathers flurried, talons glinted, and she saw her griffin.

  "Aquila?" Her voice was small, hesitant. The griffin looked at her and lowered her wing.

  "Aquila!" Gloriae shouted. She ran and embraced the griffin's head. "You've returned to me, girl. I thought you were dead."

  The griffin cawed and tilted her head, anxious.

  "Yes, Aquila, there's no time. We fly." She looked around her, ran forward, and grabbed a fallen branch the length of a lance. She leaped with the branch onto Aquila, her Beam held tight in her other hand.

  "Now fly, Aquila!" she shouted over the roar of battle. Fire, blood, and lightning filled the night. "Fly like in the old days. To battle. To war. To glory. Fly!"

  They soared.

  The snow and blood dwindled below them, and they crashed through swarms of mimic dragons, swooping nightshades, roaring salvanae, and shrieking griffins. Blood, feathers, scales, and smoke blazed around her. Flaming arrows flew; mimics were firing them from below. Lightning flashed. Gloriae glimpsed Terra and Memoria flying to her north, raining fire upon the battle. Agnus Dei flew to the south, and Kyrie to the west, their beams rending the night. The roars, shrieks, and howls nearly deafened her.

  "There, Aquila!" she shouted. "To the east. To those nightshades."

  The demons of smoke and shadow were wrapping around salvanae, and the true dragons were falling fast. Gloriae snarled and dug her knees into Aquila. They shot through smoke, fire, and darkness. Gloriae nearly fell off, and she tightened her legs around Aquila as hard as she could.

  She raised her Beam.

  Lights shot from the skull's orbits, searing the night, slamming into nightshades.

  They howled. The light turned them grey, and they shrivelled up, smoking, curling, falling. Gloriae spun the skull from side to side. Nightshades flew
at her, maws opening, eyes blazing. She cut them down.

  "I am Gloriae!" she shouted. "I fight for Requiem. I am her daughter. You will die before me."

  Her armor was dented and dulled, its gilt chipped away, its jewels fallen. Her clothes, once priceless and embroidered with golden thread, were tattered and muddy, revealing more skin than they hid. Her lance was but a charred stick. Her griffin no longer wore gilded armor or a saddle; she rode bareback and wild. And yet Gloriae felt more powerful than ever. This was true power, she knew; this was justice and righteousness. This was the war she had always craved.

  "I am Gloriae," she cried, "daughter of King Benedictus and Queen Lacrimosa, heir to Requiem. I kill for her tonight."

  Flaming arrows blazed around her. One slammed into Aquila, and the griffin screeched but kept flying. As she swung the Beams, slicing through mimics, Gloriae scanned the night.

  "Where are you, Irae?" she hissed. Where was the man she had called Father? Where was the man who had kidnapped her, who had murdered her friend May, who had murdered her true father?

  Salvanae roared around her, scales flashing, lightning shooting from their mouths. Mimic dragons screamed and darted and bit. Flaming arrows flew, and smoke filled the air. The battle for Requiem raged, but Gloriae cared for only one man.

  "I will kill you, Irae," she swore. "You die tonight."

  MEMORIA

  Fire, lightning, and beams of light shot around her, a storm of war. Arrows whistled, mimics roared, wings flapped, dragons swooped. The night spun around her, darkness and light, fire and blood.

  "Terra!" she cried. Three mimic dragons mobbed him, slashing and biting. She flew, eyes narrowed, and slashed at one. Its flank opened, spilling snakes and cockroaches. When it turned to bite her, she blew her fire.

  Terra shook off the others, growled, and torched them. A gash ran down his side, bloody. Salvanae, griffins, nightshades, and more mimic dragons spun around them, battling in the air.

  "They need us down there," Terra said. "With me, Memoria! Let's burn the battlefield."

  They growled, pulled their wings close, and swooped. The ground rushed up to meet Memoria, bristly with mimics. Their lines stretched into the night, endless formations of rot. She righted herself several feet above them and blew fire, raining the flames upon their ranks. They howled and fell, blazing. Javelins and arrows flew. One arrow shot through her wing, and she screamed. For a moment, the pain blinded her. A javelin grazed her leg.

  "Memoria, fly! Higher!"

  Terra flicked his tail, guiding her. She growled and flapped her wings, soaring into the clouds. Flaming arrows flew around her. She crashed into a nightshade, and it began to suck at her soul. She screamed. She felt the creature ripping pieces of her, laughing, lapping them up. And then Kyrie swooped forward on his griffin, his Beam blazing, washing her with light. The nightshades screeched and scattered.

  "Terra, let's dive!"

  She swooped again, Terra at her side. They broke apart near the ground and raced over the lines of mimics. They rained more fire, and more mimics burned. They soared, arrows snapping against their scales, and Memoria surveyed the battle. She cursed. The mimics were tearing into the lines of Earthen, slashing their limbs off, digging into their bellies to feast. The Earthen lines were crumbling, and more mimics kept flowing forward. Lacrimosa fought there, swinging Stella Lumen, hacking at mimics. Blood splattered her.

  "They need us!" Memoria shouted. "Down there, by the column."

  Terra heard and nodded. Memoria steeled herself, drew flames into her mouth, and dived toward King's Column.

  Ten mimic dragons soared toward her, claws outstretched.

  Memoria blew her flames, hitting one dragon. It screamed and fell. The others crashed into her, lashing their claws and biting. She whipped her tail around her, and bit into their maggoty flesh, and cut and burned them. But they kept swarming. When she glanced below her, she saw more Earthen dying.

  "The mimics are getting near the women and children!" she shouted.

  Terra was battling a mob of mimic dragons. He roared and blew fire in a ring, scattering them, and dived. Memoria joined them. She drew fire and torched the line of mimics. Another arrow hit her, and she roared and flew higher, only to crash into a biting mimic dragon. She tried to dive for another round of fire, but could not. The mimic dragons filled the sky around her, protecting their comrades below

  "Nehushtan!" she cried. "Cover us."

  She stared above and saw the salvanae blazing all around, shooting lightning and biting into mimics and nightshades. They too were overrun.

  A dozen mimic dragons flew at her from all sides. She blew fire in a ring, cursing. She could not shoot fire forever. Soon her reserves would dwindle, and she'd need rest to rebuild them. Would Lacrimosa and the Earthen survive until then?

  A mimic dragon bit her calf, and she screamed and beat it with her wing. It opened its mouth to roar, and she slammed her tail into it, breaking it into a dozen bodies that rained onto the field. More flew at her. Memoria lashed her claws and tail, cursing.

  LACRIMOSA

  Her sword was a beautiful thing, she thought, a work of art, its blade filigreed, its grip glimmering with diamonds in the shape of her constellation. But today... today there is no beauty to Stella Lumen. Today my blade deals death and blood.

  She swung that blade, cutting into mimics, their pus and blood and rot spraying. She screamed as she fought—for her children, for all free people, and for all her fallen.

  Silva fought at her side, his beard fluttering in the wind, his eyes blazing, his sword bloody. His men fought around them, eyes solemn, green cloaks covered in snow and gore.

  "Fight, friends!" Silva called over the din of battle. "Fight for the Earth God. We will kill the tyrant."

  The enemy kept coming at them. Lines of flayed mimics burst forward, their bared muscles glimmering with blood, their internal organs shiny and pulsing. They looked like men turned inside out, and they swung jagged blades. One slashed at her, its eyeballs bulging from its skinned face. Lacrimosa parried, shouted, and swung her blade into it. Blood sprayed her.

  "Terra!" she shouted to the sky. "Memoria! Burn their lines. Scatter them!"

  Yet when she glanced up, she saw the mimic dragons mobbing the siblings, biting and lashing at them. More mimics and nightshades filled the sky all around. Lacrimosa cursed and parried another mimic's blade. Three attacked her at once, flayed and dripping, their teeth sharpened. She parried left and right, stabbed, thrust, and suffered a wound to her arm. She screamed and kept fighting until they lay dead.

  For only a moment, she could catch her breath. Then new horrors burst from the battlefield.

  Snowbeasts.

  They towered seven feet tall, lanky things with six legs, flaps of white skin draping over their bones. They snapped their teeth, spraying the field with drool, and shoved between the mimics, charging toward Lacrimosa.

  She ducked, dodging a blow from one's leg, and swung her blade. She hit its other leg, it fell, she leaped, she stabbed. Black blood sprayed. Another rose behind her, jumped, and slammed into her. She fell and its teeth came down. She raised her sword, screaming, and stabbed it through the mouth.

  Lacrimosa lay on her back, panting, bleeding, her head spinning. More snowbeasts scurried around her like spiders. Silva cried commands to his men. Swords swung, horses thundered, and arrows blazed overhead. Above in the night sky, rays of light, pillars of fire, and streams of scales and shadow flowed.

  They're too many, she thought in a haze. We can't defeat them. We have to run.

  Bodies lay around her. Men and women of Osanna, come to fight here and die. Dead salvanae, the light of their eyes extinguished. Dead griffins. Everywhere—death, darkness, despair. Her eyes stung, and she felt herself sinking into the snow and blood.

  The nightshades, salvanae, and dragons parted briefly above, and between them, Lacrimosa saw one of her stars. Its light was soft. She could almost not see it beyond the battle. But its
glow seemed to call to her. Lacrimosa. Child of the woods. You are home, you are home. The words of her fathers.

  Lacrimosa tightened her lips. Not yet. I still fight for you, Requiem. She leaped to her feet, shouting, and swung her blade.

  Poisoned charged across the battlefield, shrieking in high-pitched, tortured voices. They had been men once, Lacrimosa knew, men twisted by green smoke and dark magic. Fish scales covered them. Their arms had grown long and twisted, their fingers clammy and webbed. Their eyes hung from their sockets on bloody stalks, slapping against their cheeks as they ran.

  Lacrimosa fought them. She fought with blade and torch. She fought for Requiem. For her dead parents. For her husband. For her children. She fought as griffins and salvanae rained from the sky, dead or dying. She fought as men fell around her. She fought because her stars still shone, and life still filled her, and Lacrimosa would fight so long as she could. Until my last breath. Until my last drop of blood. I will die fighting for Requiem, and then I will be with you again, Ben, in our halls beyond the stars.

  The creatures howled before her, blood rained from the sky, and Lacrimosa swung her blade.

  AGNUS DEI

  Flaming arrows whistled around her. Nightshades swooped in every direction, eyes blazing, maws dripping smoke. The mimic dragons bit and clawed. Volucris spun between the enemies, three arrows in his breast, his wings roiling smoke and flame.

  Agnus Dei wished she had a second hand to hold onto Volucris. Her good hand held the golden skull, pointing its beams at swarming nightshades. Her left arm hung uselessly.

  "Careful, Volucris!" she cried when he swooped, soared, and swerved. She nearly fell, and she pressed her legs against him so hard, she thought they could break.

  Flaming arrows blazed around them, and one hit Volucris's leg. He howled and bucked, and Agnus Dei screamed. She slid down his back, tightened her knees, but kept sliding. She had to push the Beam against her chest with her left arm, then grab Volucris's fur with her right hand.