Her eyes stared at him, pleading. "I want to go with you. Let's hunt Dies Irae together, we'll save Mother—"
"No!" Benedictus rose to fly again. "Find the salvanae; that's what I need you to do. Fly west. With Kyrie. Fly as far as you can—to the end of the world. That is your mission now."
With that Benedictus took off, leaving her below, heading into the eastern sky. Clouds and rain and wind lashed him. There were no salvanae, of course. Dragons with no human form? That was a myth. A bedtime story. But it was a myth that would send Agnus Dei and Kyrie flying west, far from Dies Irae, far from all this war and blood. If there was safety for them, it lay in the distant lands where perhaps Dies Irae's arm could not reach.
I might never see them again, Benedictus thought as he flew. But maybe that's safest for them. I put my daughter in danger. I put Kyrie in danger. May they fly far, and fly well, and may they find safety on their quest.
Where was Dies Irae? Benedictus could not see the man nor his griffin, could no longer hear griffin shrieks. But he knew where Dies Irae headed. He was taking Lacrimosa to Confutatis, to chain her, to torture her, to lure him—Benedictus—into danger. It's me you want, Dies Irae. It's me you'll get. We'll face each other again in battle, and this time, one of us will die.
As Benedictus flew, piercing the night, a chill ran through him. He knew that he most likely flew toward his death.
Fly west, Agnus Dei. Fly west with Kyrie. You two are the last hope for our race.
Benedictus howled in the night.
KYRIE ELEISON
Kyrie struggled to rise from the ground. Everything ached, and lava seemed to flow through his veins. He strained his muscles, but the pain flared, and he collapsed. Mud and moss squelched around him.
"Lacri... Lacrimosa—" he managed, gasping for breath. The pain was worst on his chest, where the quarrel had struck. The bolt burned, and blood seeped around it. The ilbane sent sluggish ache through Kyrie from horns to tail.
"Agnus Dei—" he said, struggling to utter each word through clenched teeth. He wanted to shout, but his voice was so hoarse and soft. "Benedictus—"
He coughed and struggled to breathe. With blazing agony, he raised his head and stared into the sky, but saw only blackness. Rain pattered against him. Kyrie heard nothing but wind, thunder, and creaking trees.
I have to save them. I have to fly. Gritting his teeth, he managed to push up one shoulder, then the other. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, though the ilbane felt like shackles tugging him to the ground.
Lightning flashed, and Kyrie saw a dozen eyes blazing, staring at him from shaggy black forms. Wolves.
"Stay back!" he warned, but his voice was weak. He tried to breathe fire, but only a small puff of flame left his mouth. Lightning flashed again, growls rose, and the wolves were upon him.
Kyrie cried in pain. The wolves covered him, biting and clawing. Though ilbane burned, Kyrie rolled around, struggling to shake them off, but they moved like devils. The wolves on his back could not break his scales, but no scales covered his belly, and one wolf bit him there.
The new pain made Kyrie buck, and in his rage, he blew fire at the wolf. The beast caught flame and fell off his belly, howling. Kyrie swiped his claws at the blazing wolf, tossing it into the grass. Soon the grass too caught fire and burned around Kyrie. The other wolves howled and fled.
The pain and fear were enough to let Kyrie limp forward, flap his wings, and fly a hundred feet. He landed, aching, wings stiff, and kept limping.
"Agnus Dei!" he cried hoarsely. "Benedictus!"
Where were they? Were they dead? Had more griffins arrived? Kyrie cursed himself; he had fallen first, had flown clumsily, had let Dies Irae shoot him down. He clenched his jaw, wanting nothing more than to find Dies Irae and kill him. If I catch him, I'm going to rip off his other arm, then beat him to death with it.
"Agnus Dei!" he called out in the night. Wolf howls answered him. Thunder boomed and the rain grew even stronger, pattering against him. Hail rattled against his scales. He wanted to blow fire, a beacon for the others, but could bring none to his breath. When lightning flashed, he saw only clouds. No dragons, no griffins.
"Agnus Dei!" His voice was only a hoarse call; he doubted it carried a hundred yards.
The wind slammed against him, carrying a whimper.
Kyrie stiffened and gazed into the darkness.
The whimper sounded again. He thought he heard a voice calling, distant and weak.
"Who's there?" Kyrie cried, but his voice was only a whisper. He began to trudge forward, slipped into the mud, shoved himself up, and kept limping. His wings hung uselessly at his sides. "Benedictus? Agnus Dei?"
"Pup!" came a cry from ahead.
Kyrie felt his eyes moisten. He laughed, as horrible as everything was. "Agnus Dei!"
He tried to run toward her voice, fell, and groaned in pain. He struggled to rise, fell again, and reached out into the darkness.
Dragon claws reached out and clutched him.
"Agnus Dei!"
"Pup!"
And then she was upon him, embracing him, weeping. She was hurt, and Kyrie felt his anger bubble. Fire burned in her nostrils, and in its light, he saw blood trickle down her neck.
"Where's Benedictus?" Kyrie asked, hoarse.
Agnus Dei trembled. "He went after Mother. We have to find the salvanae, Kyrie! We have to. Only they can help us now. Only they can help us save Mother and Father. We must find them. We must!"
She struggled to her feet and kicked off the ground. Her wings flapped, she flew a few yards, then crashed to the ground. She raised her head weakly, looked at him with pained eyes, and whispered, "We have to."
Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.
Kyrie crawled toward her and embraced her. She still lived; he could feel her chest rise and fall. The rain fell upon them. Kyrie managed to pull himself above her, shielding her from the rain. In a few hours, he knew, the ilbane's pain would die, and they would fly again.
It would be a long, cold night.
AGNUS DEI
Strange dreams filled Agnus Dei's sleep.
She walked on human legs, but had a dragon's head. The heavy, scaly head wobbled on her human body, the thin body of a child, a child lost in a burning forest. Ash flew around her like the ghosts of butterflies, and shattered columns littered the forest floor. Though the trees were burned, dry leaves fell from them, gold and orange and rufous, gliding to fizzle into steam upon hitting the ground.
"Mother!" Agnus Dei cried, but her voice was hoarse, beastly, the shriek of a dragon. She clutched her scaly head with soft hands, tears in her eyes. "Mother!"
Ahead she saw a ruined palace—the palace of Father, the Vir Requis King. Its columns and walls had fallen, and scattered fires burned where statues had stood. Skeletons littered the ruins, all with human bodies and dragon heads, the skulls glaring at her, turning to follow as she walked.
"Mother!" she cried again, a twisted shriek. I am a creature, a freak, a thing not human nor dragon. She tried to turn all dragon, or all human, but could not.
"Look at the monster!" came voices from ahead, and Agnus Dei started. A group of Osanna's soldiers stood ahead atop a fallen column, clad in steel, their capes billowing though there was no breeze. Above in the skies, countless griffins streamed, row by row of them, silent, flying without flapping their wings.
"I'm not a monster!" she replied, but her words came out a horrible shriek, a sound like a dying hawk. As the soldiers laughed, a scream came from the sky, and Agnus Dei looked up to see a griffin clutching her mother. The griffin was the size of the whole sky, casting a shadow across the ruins. Mother seemed so small in its talons, like a house lizard in the clutches of an owl.
"Mother!" Agnus Dei tried to cry, but again only a screech left her mouth. The griffin holding Mother turned and flew away, vanishing into the distance. Agnus Dei tried to follow, but the soldiers shot flaming arrows at her, and she caught fire.
"Mothe
r!" she cried, burning, and fell into wet grass.
"Agnus Dei," spoke a voice in her ear, and she felt a hand on her head.
She rolled around, trying to extinguish the flames. Wet grass squelched beneath her. "No, no. Please no! Leave me alone, I'm burning." Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she wondered if they could put out the flames.
"Agnus Dei, wake up. You're having a nightmare."
She opened her eyes, panting, and saw Kyrie above her. He had taken human form, and looked like a drowned cat, muddy and bloody and wet. The sun was rising, casting pink and red light across a soggy field.
Agnus Dei leaped to her feet. She realized that she had taken human form in her sleep, possibly when trying to shift in her nightmare. She looked to the sky, seeking Mother or Father, seeking griffins. Nothing but clouds and sunbeams filled the sky. She spun to face Kyrie.
"What happened?" She heard anger in her voice, and she narrowed her eyes. She pushed muddy hair back from her face. Her clothes too were caked with mud, grass, and blood.
Kyrie stared to the east, eyes dark. "Dies Irae flew east, taking Lacrimosa. Benedictus followed." He tightened his fists. "I tried to follow too, but... the ilbane. It was too much. I... I passed out. You did too." He trembled and his face was red.
Agnus Dei jumped into the air, shifted into a dragon so quickly that her head spun, and flapped her wings. Hovering, she turned to look at Kyrie. "Come! We fly."
Kyrie hesitated, standing below in human form.
"Come on!" She growled. "What are you waiting for?"
"I...." He frowned. "Agnus Dei, are you sure we can catch Dies Irae? Free Lacrimosa? He has armies, Agnus Dei. Armies. Tens of thousands of griffins. I want to rescue Lacrimosa." His eyes were suddenly moist. "More than anything. But how could we? If we fly east, aren't we flying to death?"
Agnus Dei growled and blew flames toward the clouds. "You pup. We're not flying east. I know I can't save Mother by dying. We're flying west, pup. We're flying to get the salvanae. And then we too will have armies." She snarled. "We fly."
She flapped her wings, shooting into the west. She heard a roar behind her, a dragon's roar, and soon Kyrie flew beside her, a great beast of blue scales. They left the ground far below and flew hidden between the clouds. The clouds were sparse this morning, dispersing after the stormy night, and Agnus Dei found herself flying in and out of blue skies. Anyone could see them here, she knew, but she narrowed her eyes and kept flying. She dared not walk in human form, not as Mother and Father were in danger. Walking was slow; as a dragon, she could fly hundreds of leagues a day.
She looked at Kyrie. He seemed to be thinking the same thing. Whenever they emerged from cloud cover, he narrowed his eyes, tightened his jaw, scanned the ground and sky, but kept flying.
I'm glad you're here with me, Kyrie, she thought. The thought surprised her. She was a loner. She needed nobody else. For years, she had prided herself on fierceness, strength, independence. Are you growing soft? she asked herself, but when she looked at Kyrie again, she understood. Kyrie is like me; young, fiery, the last youth of an endangered species.
Kyrie noticed she was staring and met her gaze. Concern filled his eyes. "Do you think there really are salvanae?" he said, the wind whipping his words. "That it's not just a legend?"
She bared her fangs. "Of course there are salvanae." She growled, blew fire, and clawed the sky, because inside her dread swirled. Ice filled her belly, and a shiver ran along her spine. If there were no salvanae, there was no hope. She would never save her parents. She would never defeat Dies Irae.
At the thought of Mother in prison, Agnus Dei felt a lump in her throat. She could imagine griffin talons scratching Mother, spears piercing her, ilbane burning her. Would Dies Irae kill her? Torture her? Agnus Dei couldn't help it—tears fled her eyes and flew back across her cheeks.
"Agnus Dei," Kyrie said, voice almost drowned under the wind. "Agnus Dei, I... I'm sorry about what happened. But Benedictus... I've seen him fight, Agnus Dei. He is amazing. I've never seen such a warrior. And he's after Dies Irae. He's flying to save Lacrimosa. If anyone in the world can do it, it's your old man."
She looked at him, tears still in her eyes. Clouds and sunbeams streamed between them. "If he's still alive."
"He is," Kyrie said, but uncertainty filled his voice.
The final clouds vanished, and they flew in clear skies. The land was wild below, covered with brambles and twisted oaks. Boulders jutted like teeth from tall grass. Rivulets glistened, and Agnus Dei saw a herd of deer raise their heads from the water, look up at them, and begin to flee. Agnus Dei was hungry, and her stomach growled, but she dared not swoop to hunt. Eating would delay her, and Agnus Dei wanted to fly, to cross thousands of leagues far into the misty realms of the west, lands beyond the maps of men and Vir Requis.
"Let's fly higher," Kyrie said. "We're too easy to spot here. If we fly high enough, we might appear as great birds."
She snorted. "You maybe, pup. I would never pass for a bird."
Still she flew upward. Kyrie flew by her, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. They shot up in a straight line so fast, her stomach churned, her head ached, and spots danced before her eyes. But she kept flying. Soon they were so far up, she could barely breathe, and the thin air chilled her. When she looked down, the land was so distant, she could make out no trees or boulders or bushes, only patches of green and brown in all shades: bright green like fresh leaves, and deep gray-green like old forests, and brown like the barks of oaks, and pale green like the leaves of birches back in Requiem. The streams and rivers were but strands of silver, glinting. She had never flown so high.
Kyrie slapped her with his tail. "Fly straight," he called over the roaring wind, "and breathe well. If your head spins, or your eyes go dark, we'll go lower."
She growled at him. "I don't need flying lessons from a pup. Come on. See if you can catch up."
Agnus Dei flew as fast as she could, like she would as a girl when fleeing her scolding parents. As a child, none could keep up with her, not even the bigger kids, but Kyrie flew beside her the whole time. She tried to fly faster, to beat him, but could not. Hot shot, she thought with a snort. Hot pup.
Osanna moved beneath them, endless lands of wilderness, an empire stretching across the known world. But there is a land beyond Osanna, Agnus Dei thought. There had to be more lands. Had to! The world could not be just Osanna, just the realms of Dies Irae and his griffins. Once there had been other lands—Gilnor in the south, snowy Fidelium the north, and Leonis across the sea. Once there had been a land called Requiem, too, a land of marble columns among birch trees, a land where dragons flew. Requiem lay in ruins now, forgotten, her glow drowned under Osanna's fire. But she had once stood; Agnus Dei remembered. She would never forget the courts of Requiem.
Like there was a Requiem, there is a Salvandos too, a land far in the western mists of legend. Agnus Dei nodded as she flew. Salvandos was real. She knew it with every heartbeat, every breath. This land would not have fallen under Osanna's rule.
They flew for hundreds of leagues before Agnus Dei's head began to spin, and they had to dive down. She saw no towns, only a forest and grasslands where deer grazed. She and Kyrie landed in the grass, caught a deer, and ate silently. They drank from a stream. Agnus Dei's wings, lungs, and heart ached, but she dared not rest for more than a few moments. Then she was flying again, Kyrie at her side.
"You look tired, pup," she said to him.
He grunted, flapping stiff wings beside her. "I can keep up with you." He snorted fire at her. "Kitten."
"We'll see, little puppy."
They flew until nightfall, the most Agnus Dei had ever flown in one day. They must have crossed a thousand leagues, moving so far from Sequestra Mountains, so far from the marble city of Confutatis where Dies Irae lived. In the darkness, they found a forest and shifted into human form.
"It's best we sleep as humans," Agnus Dei said. "Just in case Dies Irae has dragon hunters roaming the woods."
/> Oaks, elms, and birches rustled around them like ghosts in the night. The air smelled like mold and earth, cold in her lungs. They had no blankets, so they curled up on the ground, holding each other for warmth. Kyrie smelled like grass and wind and clouds, and she clung to him in the darkness, her face against his chest. He began to stroke her hair, but then his hand stilled, and he snored softly.
I miss you, Mother, Agnus Dei thought and tears fled her eyes. I miss you, Father. She shivered against Kyrie, more lost and lonely than she'd ever felt. Flying all day had left her stiff, sore, and exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. In the darkness, she kept seeing Dies Irae chaining, stabbing, and torturing her mother.
"I'll save you, Mother," she whispered. "I'll find the salvanae, you'll see."
The trees rustled and wind moaned. An owl hooted. Agnus Dei wondered if wolves or bears filled these woods, or worse—men. She shivered and wept for a long time, grateful that Kyrie slept and couldn't see her weakness. When he peeked at her, then closed his eyes again, she realized that he feigned sleep to spare her embarrassment, and that soothed her. Finally, nestled against him, she fell into slumber.
LACRIMOSA
Lacrimosa did not remember losing consciousness. She did not remember the sun rising. She did not remember landing in this rocky field. Last thing she remembered was a starless night, her husband and daughter beside her, then—she grimaced to recall it—searing pain and griffin talons.
Where am I?
She gazed around, eyes blurry. She was still in dragon form, and everything hurt. Boots stomped around her head, spurred leather boots with steel tips. Lacrimosa tried to raise her head from the ground, but could not. A chain bound her neck down, she realized, and more chains bound her body. The boots stirred up dust, and she coughed and blinked.
"The creature!" called a voice, the voice of a young man, a soldier. "The creature is waking up."
She could see only his boots; their steel tips had skulls engraved upon them. He sounded like a youth, and Lacrimosa felt a deep sadness that Dies Irae should infect youth with his hatred. More boots raced toward her, and Lacrimosa cried out. Several pointy objects, spears or sticks, jabbed her sides, her back, her tail. She roared and tried to raise her head, but could not, and her roar was muffled. She tried to blow fire, but an iron muzzle held her mouth closed.
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 15