"I will never forgive you for this, brother," he whispered. "I will never forgive you for forcing me to kill, for turning me into this. You have called me a monster. You have made me one."
Soon he found the road, and he kept walking. By evening he stood before the white walls of Confutatis. Lacrimosa and Gloriae waited for him there... and Dies Irae.
AGNUS DEI
"But you must help us!" Agnus Dei demanded, eyes teary. "Please."
Her claws dug into the cave floor, a floor made of gold and diamonds. The cave walls were golden too, and gems sparkled in them, reflecting the fire in Agnus Dei's nostrils. On any other day, Agnus Dei would find this vast, glittering chamber inside Har Zahav a place of beauty and wonder. Today she cared little for beauty; she was ready to blow fire, lash her tail, and topple the golden mountain.
"Won't you help us?" she asked again, smoke leaving her nostrils.
The council of salvanae hovered before her and Kyrie, undulating. Sparks of electricity danced between their teeth. The high priest, Nehushtan, hovered at the head of the council. Six other salvanae, their mustaches long and white, hovered behind him. All their eyes—those large, round eyes like glass orbs—stared at the two Vir Requis.
"Agnus Dei," Kyrie whispered from the side of his mouth, "maybe it's a lost cause. They're peaceful creatures. I'm not sure they can help us fight." He too stood in dragon form, claws upon the golden floor.
Angus Dei looked back at Nehushtan. "Please," she said. "They'll kill my parents. They've killed so many Vir Requis already. Fly with us! Bring your warriors. Their fangs are sharp. Their lightning is hot. Fight with us. Fight Dies Irae."
Nehushtan regarded her silently for long moments. He puffed rings of smoke from his mouth, then spoke in his creaky voice. His words were slow and calm. "We of the land of Salvandos, of the holy Har Zahav mountain, do not concern ourselves with the ways of humans, or of griffinflesh. We are salvanae, the true dragons of ancient times. We concern ourselves only with dragonkind. The way of the dragon is our way, and it is a good way. A way of peace. Of meditation. Of reflection and prayer."
"But we're dragons too," Agnus Dei said, eyes stinging. She bucked and clawed the air. Her tail lashed, hit a wall, and knocked down a shower of gems. The priests winced.
"Agnus D—" Kyrie began, but she ignored him.
"Look at these wings!" Agnus Dei said. "Look at these fangs." She blew fire against the cave ceiling, blackening its gold and incurring more winces. "Look at these flames. These are dragon flames. I am a dragon maiden. And my way is the way of honor. Of helping friends. Of fighting for life and goodness." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "We are dragons too, so fly with us. Shoot your lightning with our fire."
Nehushtan raised his tufted white eyebrows. "But you have human forms. How could you be dragons? We have seen you walking upon two legs."
As Agnus Dei fumed, Kyrie touched her shoulder and answered for her. "The smoke rings you blow also change form. They sometimes looks like dragons, sometimes like men, sometimes like, well... nothing at all. But it's always the same substance. Same with us Vir Requis."
Nehushtan blinked, blew smoke rings, and watched them take the shape of coiling dragons. He thought for a long time, moving his eyes from Agnus Dei to Kyrie. The other priests did the same. Finally Nehushtan spoke again.
"You have spoken well, Kyrie Eleison of Requiem, so I will offer you this. Beyond Har Zahav, and the mists of Arafel Canyons, rise the Stone Rings. There do young dragons prove their worth. There you too must fly. If you survive the Stone Rings, you'll have proven yourselves worthy dragons, that your blood and soul shine under the Draco stars. We will then fly with you."
"And if we fail?" Agnus Dei asked.
Nehushtan blinked sadly. "If you fail... you will die."
Agnus Dei growled. "Let's go."
The salvanae took flight, bodies snaking into a tunnel. Agnus Dei followed, growling. Kyrie flew behind her. The tunnel was just wide enough for their dragon forms, and it led them past gems, subterranean waterfalls, caverns of golden stalactites and stalagmites, and finally out a cave onto the mountainside. They flew into the cold air, following the salvanae. Soon the mountain of Har Zahav was far behind, a golden triangle, and then it was only a glint in the distance. Clouds streamed around Agnus Dei, cold against her face, filling her mouth and nostrils and eyes. She blew fire and roared. Whatever these salvanae had in store, she would face it. She would overcome.
"For you, Mother," she whispered, and her eyes stung with tears. "For you, Father. I love you so much."
She sniffed, shook her head to clear her tears, and glanced at Kyrie. I hope he didn't see me cry. He is a pup, and I am a creature of fire, and he must never see my weakness. If he saw, however, Kyrie had the grace—and good sense—to pretend he hadn't.
"Pup," she said, "what do you reckon these salvanae have planned for us?"
Kyrie looked at her, fangs bared. He looked ready to fight an army. The salvanae flew far ahead, too far to hear.
"A test of courage," he said. "A test of strength. A rite of passage for salvana warriors. Whatever this challenge is, we're going to beat it. I'm a good flier. You're not bad, either."
She bristled and blew flames. "I can beat you at any challenge they give, pup. But this time we're not competing against each other. We're going to prove that we Vir Requis have just as much strength, speed, and spirit as they do."
She tried not to think of Mother in captivity, or of Father flying into battle. Today she would think only of proving her worth, of flying to save them.
They flew for hours, following the salvanae who snaked ahead. They flew over canyons of stone, and over forests of pines, and over grassy fields and rushing rivers. Finally they reached a land of towering stone columns, each column a league high, carved into the shape of great faces. Eyes the size of palaces glared at them, and mouths larger than cathedrals gaped in silent screams. The columns—and the faces carved into them—seemed ancient. They were smooth and mossy. It seemed that centuries of rain and wind had pummeled them into weary, grotesque figures. The salvanae flew between the columns, seeming as small as dragonflies around men.
"What is this place?" Agnus Dei asked Kyrie. "Those faces are strange."
Kyrie nodded. "Feels like they're staring at you." He flew before one face's eye. It was larger than him. They couldn't even see the ground; the columns disappeared into darkness leagues below.
The salvanae led them toward an empty space of mist and shadows. Though it had been day only minutes before, night cloaked this place. Agnus Dei saw stars above, and three purple moons. They were strange stars, and strange moons, things of a different sky, too close, too large, and Agnus Dei had to look away. She felt like that sky could swallow her.
"Look!" Kyrie said. Agnus Dei followed his stare and gasped. Ahead in darkness, distant but growing larger as they flew, hovered three stone rings. No columns held them; they floated on air. One ring was large, a dozen feet wide; the next was half the size, and the third half again. When Agnus Dei flew closer, she saw that blades filled the rings, rusty and bloodied.
"What are those?" she asked and hissed. Smoke rose between her teeth.
"I don't know," Kyrie said, "but look below them."
Agnus Dei looked and growled. Jagged rock and metal rose below the floating rings, and upon them lay the skeletons of a hundred salvanae. Some bones were ancient, bleached white like dragon teeth. Others were newer and bloodstained. Some bones looked fresh; bits of skin and scales covered them, rotting in the mist.
"What is this place?" Agnus Dei demanded of the salvanae. They hovered ahead, bodies coiling beneath them, eyes blinking at her. "Answer me! What graveyard have you brought us to?"
Nehushtan regarded her. After a long silence, he spoke. "This is our gauntlet. This is the blood of dragons. Here we prove our worth, and here you will prove you are true dragons, worthy of the name, worthy of your wings. If you are demons cloaked in dragon flesh, you will die here. If your f
orms are true, and if Draco starlight shines upon you, you will survive. We will fight with you then."
Agnus Dei roared and lashed her tail. "What do we do?"
Nehushtan gazed at the bloody blades that filled the stone rings. "Fly through the stone rings, from largest to smallest. The blades inside the rings are poisoned; a scrape is lethal. If you fly too clumsily, the blades will kill you. The blades will lengthen as you fly, blooming like steel flowers. If you fly slowly, they will kill you. Fly straight. Fly fast. Or you will die."
Agnus Dei and Kyrie stared at the stone rings. Those rusty, bloody blades seemed to stare back. Fly through the rings? It's impossible, Agnus Dei thought. Impossible! The first hoop was twelve feet wide. That was large enough for a slim, serpentine salvana to clear. They had no wings, no limbs, and a body lithe and long. But how would she, a Vir Requis with long wings and limbs, fly through this ring of death? And even if she cleared the first ring, the second was only six feet wide, and the third—only three.
"Impossible," Agnus Dei said. "These hoops were built to test slim salvanae, not bulky Vir Requis. Give us another test."
Nehushtan shook his head. "This is the gauntlet of the dragon. If you cannot pass this test, you are weak, or you are demons in dragon form. A soul of Draco stars, worthy of our help, will fly through the Stone Rings. Fly now! Or leave our land and return to Osanna."
Agnus Dei stared at Nehushtan, the smoke from her maw obscuring her vision. Rage flared inside her. She wanted to fly at the priest and rip him to shreds. But she needed him. She needed his warriors. Agnus Dei closed her eyes, took deep breaths, and thought about her mother.
Mother has always loved me, she thought. Even when I yelled, or rebelled, or hated her—she loved me. She raised me, protected me, kept me alive as Dies Irae hunted us across the world. And now Lacrimosa was captured, maybe dead, maybe tortured. Father had gone to save her, but even the great Benedictus, the Black Fang, could not fight the might of Dies Irae and his hosts. Only I can save them, Agnus Dei knew.
She opened her eyes. "You're on," she said to Nehushtan. She flapped her wings.
"Wait!"
Kyrie grabbed her tail, holding her back. Agnus Dei howled and snapped her teeth at him, new fire filling her. "Let go, pup."
"No!" he said, eyes pained. "Agnus Dei, you'll die. Please. This is not the way."
She shook her head wildly, struggling to free herself. "If we cannot pass this gauntlet, we'll all die. You, me, Mother, Father, the memory of Requiem, the blood of Vir Requis. This is the only way, Kyrie. I can do this." She stopped struggling, flew toward him, and nuzzled his cheek. "I can do this," she whispered into his ear. "I love you, Kyrie. Believe in me."
His grip on her tail loosened. Agnus Dei flew toward the stone rings.
BENEDICTUS
Benedictus stood outside the city gates. People crowded around him—beggars in rags, peddlers riding wagons of trinkets, peasants leading oxen laden with grains and vegetables, merchants in fur coats, and pilgrims bearing coins for Sun God temples. Guards stood at the gates, golden griffins embroidered onto their red tunics, their armor burnished and their swords at their sides. They were searching everyone for weapons, collecting the gate tolls, and letting people into Confutatis one by one.
Benedictus grumbled, bent his head, and tugged his hood lower. Few people would recognize him in his human form—most knew him only as the black dragon—but he'd take no chances. He reached into his pocket and felt his coins—enough to bribe the guards should they become suspicious. He then felt at his side, where his dagger hung. The guards would confiscate this dagger if they let him in. If they caused trouble, he might bury it in their throats. Under his cloak, his fist clutched the hilt.
The people shuffled closer to the gates. Benedictus could hear the guards now. "Right, what's that then? No staffs. Give me that, old man. Nothing that can be used as a weapon. What's this here? I'll take that knife. Hand it over. All right, that's good copper; two coins a head. In you go. You there, two coppers toll, no blades, no arrows, no sticks or stones. Two coppers, you're good."
Benedictus scowled under his hood. Once he would fly into this city bearing banners, dine with the king in palaces, hear music in gardens between statues of angels. So much had changed. This city. Himself. The world. Benedictus ached for his daughters. My daughters will never know the world I did as a youth, a world of peace and beauty. To his daughters, it was this: a world of violence, hatred, and fear.
He shuffled closer in the crowd, one hand clutching his coins, the other his dagger. When he was ten people away, a chill ran through him. The guards held leaves, which they pressed against the chests of all who passed.
Benedictus growled.
Ilbane.
Benedictus wanted to turn away, to push back through the crowd, to find another gate. But he dared not. Too many people had seen him. To flee after seeing the ilbane would look suspicious. A few whispers in the crowd, and the guards would chase him. No. He'd enter these gates.
Ilbane burned hotter than fire, Benedictus knew. He could still feel that fire, all these years after Lanburg Fields where ilbane-coated arrows had pierced him. If the ilbane touched him, he would sweat, grunt, even scream. No Vir Requis could withstand its torture and remain composed; not even him, the great Benedictus the Black, the King of Requiem.
"Move along, come on, maggots. Move, damn you!" Two old peasants, possibly a husband and wife, were shuffling into the city. The guards had seized their canes, and they moved on shaky legs.
The guards growled, and one shouted. "Move it, peasants. We haven't got all day." Two guards shoved the old couple. They laughed as the peasants fell onto the cobblestones.
Grunting, Benedictus shoved his way through the last people in line. He tried to go help the peasants who lay on the ground beyond the gates.
"Hold there!" shouted a guard, and rough hands grabbed Benedictus's shoulders. He turned his head, scowling, to see two guards clutching him. Their faces were unshaven and their eyes red.
"I'm going to help them," Benedictus said in a low, dangerous growl.
The guards laughed, showing rotting teeth. Their breath stank. "No you're not, worm," one said. "Toll's two coppers. Pay up and open that cloak of yours. No weapons. No sticks or stones. And no lip."
One guard held ilbane a foot away from Benedictus. Even at this distance, Benedictus felt the heat and pain of those leaves. Sweat beaded on his brow.
"All right," he said, speaking slowly and carefully. He wanted nothing more than to kill these men, but then the entire city guard would fall upon him. Then he would let down Lacrimosa. Control your temper, he told himself. Be careful.
He grabbed three silver coins from his pockets. It was more than these guards would earn in a month. His teeth clenched, Benedictus slammed the three silvers against a guard's chest. "Your birthday present is early this year," he said in a low voice. "Now let me through, no questions asked, and you'll get another gift when I leave tonight."
The guard stared at the coins, and his eyes widened. He bit one and raised an eyebrow. "Who are you, peasant?" he asked, voice low.
"A private man," Benedictus said. "Now let me through."
Without waiting for a reply, he took a step toward the gate. He took a second step. A third. He forced himself to move slowly, to breathe calmly.
A hand clutched his shoulder.
"All right, stranger, no questions," spoke the guard who'd taken the coins. "You like your privacy, and you can pay for it. But we must do one thing."
The guard shoved the ilbane against Benedictus's chest.
AGNUS DEI
Agnus Dei shot toward the first stone ring, eyes narrowed. She could still hear Nehushtan's voice echoing in her mind: The blades will lengthen as you fly, blooming like steel flowers. If you fly slow, they will kill you. Fly straight. Fly fast. Or you will die. Agnus Dei snarled, pulled her limbs and wings close, and became a long, thin shape.
The ring's blades creaked.
&n
bsp; Agnus Dei shot forward.
The bloody blades began to extend.
Agnus Dei screamed, shooting into the hoop. A blade scratched one of her scales, and Agnus Dei howled, but she was safe; it had not touched her blood, had not infested her with poison.
"I made it!" she cried.
"Quick, the other ring!" Kyrie shouted.
The blades in the second, smaller ring were also extending; the opening was barely four feet wide now. Agnus Dei snarled and shot forward, knowing it was too narrow for her dragon body. The ring was close now, inches away. Agnus Dei screamed as she shifted. In midair, she became human and somersaulted through the hoop. A rusty blade sliced a strand of her hair. She was through! She shifted back into a dragon and howled.
"The third ring, hurry!" Kyrie cried, and Agnus Dei grunted and flew. No, impossible! The third ring was so small, three feet wide, and its blades were extending inward. There were barely two feet between the blades now.
"Hurry!"
Agnus Dei sucked in her breath, flew, and shifted again. She was human, tumbling through the air. Instead of somersaulting through this hoop, she dived. She held out her arms, and pulled her legs together, and held her breath.
She shot through the last hoop, the blades shredding her clothes.
She fell through air.
"I'm through!" she cried, falling toward the skeletons below. Before she could hit them, she shifted into a dragon again, and shot into the sky with a roar and shower of flame. "I'm through!"
The salvanae began bugling, heads tossed back. Agnus Dei panted, hovering in midair. The blades in the rings pulled back into the stone, leaving just their rusty tips. I made it. I'm going to save you, Mother. Tears stung her eyes.
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 22