Nightshades swarmed at the palace gates. Soldiers stood behind them, armed with pikes.
"Kyrie, the gates!" Benedictus called. "Fire!"
Kyrie nodded and blew flames at the nightshades and soldiers below. Benedictus added his own flames. The fire roared, and the soldiers below screamed. They fired crossbows and tossed javelins. Benedictus and Kyrie flew aside, dodging the missiles. Nightshades came flying at them.
Three nightshades wrapped around Benedictus. Three more grabbed Kyrie.
Darkness.
Stars swivelling.
Benedictus saw endless spaces, chambers like worlds, his soul ballooning, fleeing, flowing like night skies. Eyes burned there, and tar, and moons that fell beneath him.
Shrieks around him. Feathers. Beaks.
Griffin talons ripped smoke, and Benedictus saw his body there, an old black dragon, missing scales, scarred, bleeding. Nightshades wrapped around him, and griffins were clawing, trying to reach him, and talons grabbed his legs, and—
His body sucked his soul back in. He gasped. His eyes opened, and he saw the battle around him, the fire below, the nightshades that roared.
"Kyrie!" he called. The boy was fighting at his side. Lacrimosa and the twins swooped at him, clad in flame.
"We enter the gates!" he called to them.
He swooped, tearing into the soldiers below with his claws. They screamed, slammed at him with swords, and died between his teeth. He spat their bodies out, and drove his shoulder into the gates. They shattered, and Benedictus rolled into the palace.
He stood up to see a hundred charging soldiers. He blew fire, scattering them, and ran down the hall. He swiped his tail, knocking over several men, and bit another soldier in half.
Kyrie burst into the palace behind him, roaring fire. Blood flowed down his side, and his claws swiped, knocking over soldiers.
"Where are the others?" Benedictus asked, biting and clawing at swordsmen.
"Right behind you," came Gloriae's voice. She tumbled through the gates, a golden dragon. Agnus Dei and Lacrimosa followed.
Soon all the soldiers in the hall lay dead. Benedictus grunted; a sword had sliced his back leg. It hurt badly, and he limped. Ignoring the pain, he surveyed the others. Cuts covered them, but they were alive, panting, and awaiting his orders.
"Gloriae, do you know the way to the Well of Night and the Beams?"
She nodded. "The tunnels are narrow. We'll have to go in human form."
She shifted back into human. Blood and ash covered her, and her eyes were cold. She drew her sword, pulled down the visor of her helmet, and stepped toward a doorway. Agnus Dei and Kyrie shifted too, drew their swords, and joined her.
Benedictus looked at Lacrimosa. "Are you all right? We go underground. Are you ready?"
She looked at him, still in dragon form. Cuts covered her, and pain filled her eyes, but she nodded. "I'm ready. Let's go find those Beams. And then find Dies Irae."
Benedictus was about to shift when a voice spoke behind him.
"You have found me."
He turned slowly.
Wreathed in nightshades, his empty eye socket blazing, stood Dies Irae.
GLORIAE
She saw Dies Irae enter the hall, and their eyes locked.
"Father," she whispered, sword in hand.
But no. He was not her father anymore. She did not know if Dies Irae had fathered her when raping Lacrimosa, but she knew that he'd banished her. Hurt her. Lied to her. She snarled and raised her blade. She would kill him.
Dies Irae gave her a thin smile. She saw nightshade maggots in his empty eye socket, squirming, their tiny eyes blazing.
Then Benedictus blew fire at Dies Irae, encasing him with flame.
"Gloriae, get the Beams!" Benedictus shouted. "Take Agnus Dei and Kyrie. I'll hold him off. Go!"
Dies Irae laughed, the flames crackling around him. He raised his arms, collected the fire into a ball, and tossed it at Benedictus and Lacrimosa. The two dragons leaped back, howled, and charged.
Gloriae wanted to join the fight. She forced herself to turn away.
"Come, Kyrie! Come, Agnus Dei. We get the Beams. That's the only thing that can stop Irae now."
As she raced into a narrow hall, she thought, I only pray that Benedictus and Lacrimosa can hold him off long enough.
She raced down the hallway. Agnus Dei and Kyrie ran at her sides, swords drawn. Five soldiers charged at them, brandishing blades. Gloriae ran at them, screaming, Per Ignem in her right hand, a dagger in her left. She sidestepped, swung her sword, and cut one man open. A second soldier attacked at her left; she parried with her dagger, then stabbed her sword, impaling him. Agnus Dei and Kyrie swung their blades, and soon the five soldiers lay dead. The three Vir Requis leaped over their bodies and kept running down the hallway.
"In here," Gloriae said, opening a door. A stairwell led into darkness, lined with torches. She ran down the steps, Kyrie and Agnus Dei behind her. A soldier ran up from below. Gloriae tossed her dagger and hit him in the throat. Not slowing down, she ran past him, pulled her dagger free, and kept racing downstairs.
The stairwell led into dank, dark tunnels. They twisted underground like the burrows of ants. Gloriae's sword and dagger flew, cutting down all in her path. Their blood washed the floor. The Vir Requis ran down narrower, steeper stairwells, delving into the world's belly.
Finally Gloriae reached a wide tunnel, its walls cut from solid rock. The Beams lay ahead, she knew. Last time she'd been here, a hundred men had guarded the place. Gloriae tightened her lips. She would shift. She would burn them. And once I have the Beams, I will kill Dies Irae.
She burst into the chamber. She saw the towering, iron doorways that protected the Well of Night. Three golden skulls were embedded into the doors, their sockets glowing. The Beams. The chamber was empty.
Gloriae skidded to a halt. Agnus Dei and Kyrie ran to her sides and stopped, panting. They held their bloodied blades high.
"A hundred soldiers once filled this chamber," Gloriae said, staring around with narrowed eyes. "The Well of Night, where we must seal the nightshades, lies behind those doors."
Agnus Dei struggled to catch her breath and said, "Those skulls. Are they the Beams?"
Gloriae nodded.
Agnus Dei made to run at them, but Gloriae held her back. "Wait. Something is wrong."
Kyrie nodded. "Everything is wrong. Benedictus and Lacrimosa need us! I'm getting the Beams."
He shoved past Gloriae and made a beeline to the doors.
Shadows scuttled on the ceiling.
"Kyrie, wait!" Gloriae shouted.
She looked up at the ceiling and froze. Her heart thrashed, and tears sprang into her eyes. No, it couldn't be. Couldn't! She clenched her teeth and her sword, and struggled not to faint.
Kyrie saw the creatures too. He froze and stared at the ceiling, the blood leaving his face. Agnus Dei looked up and let out a shrill cry.
"What the abyss are those?" Agnus Dei whispered.
"They are us," Gloriae whispered. "Molded at the hand of Dies Irae."
The three creatures scurried down the walls like spiders, and stood facing the Vir Requis. They were sewn together from old, rotting flesh. Limbs of bodies had been attached with strings and bolts. The limbs, heads, and torsos were mismatched; they came from different bodies. Blood and maggots covered the creatures, and their teeth were rotten. Their eyes blazed.
Two were female. One had long, matted, yellow hair that swarmed with worms. The other had dank, stinking black curls. A third creature was male, a youth of yellow hair, rotting flesh, and one leg that came from a goat.
The females looked like decaying versions of Gloriae and Agnus Dei. The male looked like Kyrie.
"Welcome, living sister," said the rotting Gloriae. She opened cracked, bleeding lips to reveal sharp teeth. Maggots rustled inside her mouth. "Welcome, Gloriae."
Gloriae screamed, nauseous.
"Shift!" she screamed. "Kill them!"
&n
bsp; She tried to become a dragon, but the magic failed her. She strained, but remained human. She looked at Kyrie and Agnus Dei; they too were struggling to shift, but could not.
The creatures laughed. "Your curse will not work here, no, darlings. You are in our realm now. We are mimics. We love you. You will join us."
Gloriae screamed and charged toward the creatures. Kyrie and Agnus Dei screamed too, and attacked their rotting doppelgangers.
Gloriae's sword drove into her mimic's chest. Its blood spurted, black, foul. The creature laughed, maggots spilling from its mouth. It dug its claws into Gloriae's shoulders, and Gloriae screamed. Poison covered those claws; they sizzled and steamed.
She pulled Per Ignem back and swung it. The blade sank into the creature's neck, and worms fled the wound, squirming up the blade onto Gloriae's hand.
She screamed, shook the worms off, and kicked. Her mimic caught her foot and twisted, and Gloriae fell.
Her mimic fell upon her and bit Gloriae's shoulder. She screamed. The creature's stench nearly made her faint. She kicked and struggled, and managed to punch her mimic's face. Her fist drove into the soft, rotting head, spilling blood and cockroaches. The creature laughed, and its claws clutched Gloriae's chest.
"You will be one of us soon," it hissed. "We will take you apart, and stuff you, and put you together again. Then we'll be together. Then I'll be with you always, Gloriae." Its bloated, white tongue left its mouth and licked Gloriae's cheek.
Gloriae kicked its belly. It grunted, and she grabbed its head and twisted. The neck, already cut from her sword, tore. The head came off, and Gloriae tossed it aside. She pushed the creature's body off her, rose to her feet, and stared down at it.
The body writhed, claws scratching. The head laughed in the corner, spurting blood. Gloriae drove Per Ignem into the torso, again and again, but it would not die.
She ran to the wall and grabbed a torch. The torso came crawling toward her, and she tossed the torch onto it.
It caught flame. The head, several yards away, also caught fire. It screamed horribly. The bugs inside it screeched too, burning. Smoke rose, and the stench nearly made Gloriae pass out.
She looked and saw that Kyrie and Agnus Dei still fought their own mimics.
"Burn them!" she cried. She grabbed another torch and tossed it at the rotting Kyrie mimic. It caught fire, screamed, and fell. She tossed a third torch at the final mimic, the maggoty Agnus Dei, and it too burned. The mimics twisted on the floor.
"It burns!" they hissed. "Why do they burn us? Why do our mothers hate us? Oh, they burn their children. How it hurts! You will burn with us soon. You murdered your children." Smoke and fire rose from them. "You will burn with us in the abyss."
Gloriae helped Agnus Dei to her feet. She had fallen, tears on her cheeks. Kyrie walked toward them, fingers trembling, eyes haunted. The three watched the mimics burn, until they were nothing but piles of ash.
Gloriae stared, eyes dry. Then she tightened her jaw and pointed at the Beams. The golden skulls seemed to stare at her, lights flickering inside their eye sockets.
"Help me pry those from the walls," she said. "We go kill nightshades."
BENEDICTUS
Dies Irae's arm swung. Nightshade smoke flowed from it, slamming into Benedictus. His scales cracked. He flew, hit a column, and fell to the floor. Marble tiles cracked beneath him.
Dies Irae stepped toward him, the nightshades swirling around him.
"My my, brother, you seem to have fallen," Dies Irae said. Veins flowed across his face, blue and pulsing. The nightshade maggots squealed in his eye socket.
Lacrimosa flew at him, screaming, her talons glinting. Dies Irae waved his arm, and the blow knocked her against the ceiling. Bricks showered down. Lacrimosa fell, hit the floor, and whimpered. Blood covered her scales. Dies Irae laughed.
"Damn you, Irae," Benedictus growled. The sight of his wounded wife blazed in his eyes, drowning his pain. He pushed himself up, his wounds aching. His eyes burned, and blood dripped into them. He could barely see, but blew fire. Dies Irae waved his arm, and the flames flew around him. Tapestries caught fire. They crackled, and black smoke filled the hall.
"Damn me, brother?" Dies Irae asked. "I am already damned. My daughter Gloriae damned me, infested me with these creatures. But I am powerful now, brother. More powerful than you ever knew me."
Dies Irae swung his left arm, the mace arm. The steel hit Benedictus's chest and knocked him down. Pain exploded. He saw only white light, then stars over blackness. He flicked his tail, and felt it slam into Dies Irae, doing him no harm.
Outside, Benedictus heard the griffins and nightshades. The griffins were shrieking in pain. The nightshades laughed. Benedictus blinked, and he could see again. He saw a window. Outside the griffins were falling from the sky.
"Yes, Benedictus," Dies Irae said. "They are dying for you. Once more, you've led thousands to die under your banners."
No, Benedictus thought. He could not allow another Lanburg Fields. He could not let Dies Irae win again.
"You murdered our father," he said, mouth bloody, and struggled to his feet. "You murdered millions. I hold you to justice now."
Dies Irae laughed again and swung his mace. Light and pain burst. Benedictus fell onto his back, cracking more tiles. He smelled his blood.
"Ben!" came Lacrimosa's cry, a world away, hazy, echoing. A streak of silver flew. Lacrimosa, a dragon of moonlight, leaped at Dies Irae. He slammed his mace into her, nightshades swirling around it. The blow tossed Lacrimosa across the hall. She hit a column, cracked it, and fell. She moaned, her eyes closed, and she hit the floor. Blood flowed from her head.
"Lacrimosa!" Benedictus cried. Tears filled his eyes. Was she dead? The blood dripping from her head horrified him, yanked his heart, pulsed through his veins. He tried to run to her. Dies Irae, still laughing, lashed his arms. Nightshades flew from them, knocking into Benedictus, tossing him against the floor.
Benedictus lay, bloodied, aching, tears in his eyes.
"Lacrimosa...," he whispered and struggled to his knees.
Dies Irae stood above him. "Lacrimosa," he said. "That is her name. That is the name I called as I raped her. She was only fifteen, did you know? I hurt her then, Benedictus. I hurt her badly. She bled and wept, and—"
Screaming hoarsely, Benedictus charged forward. Dies Irae swung his mace into Benedictus's head.
Light.
Pain.
Benedictus hit the floor.
The pain shattered his magic, returning him to human form. He lay bloodied and moaning.
"So sad, Benedictus," came Dies Irae's voice. "You've fought for so long... only to die now. Your daughters have died too. They seek the Beams. Yes, Benedictus. I know of your plans. I have known for many days, and have been waiting for you. I have placed a horror to guard the Beams, a horror I crafted especially for your children."
Benedictus struggled to rise. Dies Irae placed a boot upon his neck, pinning him down, that boot made of Vir Requis scales.
"They won't die so easily," Benedictus managed to say.
Dies Irae pushed his foot down, constricting Benedictus. He could no longer speak, could barely breathe. "Oh, they are dead already, dear Benedictus the Black. Rest assured, too, that they suffered greatly before dying. My special pets made sure of that. Your wife too is dead."
Benedictus could just make out Lacrimosa's form. She was human again—which meant she was dead, or badly wounded. She lay in blood, unmoving. Benedictus wanted to call her, to tell her of his love one last time, but Dies Irae's boot suffocated him.
Benedictus drew a dagger from his belt. Dies Irae's boot left his neck and stepped on his wrist. The dagger fell.
Benedictus took ragged breaths.
"Why, brother?" he managed to say. "Why? Gloriae, whom you loved, is Vir Requis. You too are Vir Requis, you—"
"I am no such creature!" Dies Irae screeched. His voice was inhuman, impossibly high-pitched and loud. Stained glass windows shat
tered across the hall. Dies Irae's face burned with green light, and the nightshades swirled around him, lifting him two feet in the air. "You are cursed. You are wretched. You are weredragon. I am pure, a being of light."
Benedictus struggled to his knees. Dies Irae kicked him down.
"No, Benedictus. You stay on the floor. You are a serpent. Serpents crawl in the dust." He raised his steel arm. "Do you see this deformity? You bit off my real arm. Do you remember, brother? Do you remember Lanburg Fields?" He cackled. "When you bit off my arm, did you ever imagine I would grow another one? A steel one that would kill you? Yes. You will die now, creature."
Benedictus looked into his brother's eye—one eye now an empty socket rustling with nightshades, the other bright blue and milky.
"Our father loved you, Di," he said.
Dies Irae froze. Di. His childhood nickname. The name their parents used to call him. The name Benedictus himself would use when the two were children.
Dies Irae stared down, face frozen. "What did you call me?" he whispered.
Benedictus lay at his feet, blood seeping, pain throbbing. "He... he could not give you the Oak Throne, brother. I know he hurt you. He did not know. He did not realize your pain. He loved you, Di. Our father loved you more than life. More than Requiem. He—"
Dies Irae trembled. His chest rose and fell like a hare's heart, thrashing. His voice was nothing but a whisper. A frightened whisper. The voice of a child. "What did you call me?"
Benedictus pushed himself to his knees. "We used to play in the temple, do you remember? The priests had left a chandelier there, out between the trees. We took the crystals from it, and pretended they were jewels, that we were rich. Us, the princes of Requiem, playing with fake jewels, when we could have a thousand real ones! Yet these were somehow more valuable; childhood's joy lit them." Now his own voice trembled, and tears filled his eyes. "Do you remember? Do you remember the trees, and the crystals? You are my brother, Di. I loved you. I don't know you now. But you can come back. You can remember. You can—"
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 48