Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

by Daniel Arenson

  "Just watch," Lacrimosa said, still daring to hope.

  She stared and frowned. Was Gloriae right? The Animating Stone still glowed and swirled, but....

  The stone dragon's wing creaked.

  Gloriae gasped and squeezed Lacrimosa's hand.

  The statue moved its head, just an inch. The stone creaked, and for an instant Lacrimosa thought the head would snap off. But the stone moved like a living thing—creaky and stiff, but alive.

  Then the dragon lifted its arms and arched its back, and snow fell from it. The icicles on its arms snapped. It tossed back its head and roared, and Lacrimosa wanted to draw her sword or flee. Would it attack them?

  "Stone of Requiem!" she called to it. "I am Lacrimosa, Queen of Requiem. Do you hear me? I raise the stones of our land. Requiem calls for your aid."

  The stone dragon looked at her, and its eyes narrowed. The Animating Stone in its chest blazed. The statue's mouth closed, opened, and then it roared again.

  It was a roar of pain, of grief, and of joy.

  "It's thanking us," Lacrimosa whispered, her eyes moist. "It saw the death of this land. It sings for memory, and for new life."

  The clouds parted, and beams of sunlight fell upon the ruins of Requiem. The stone dragon, chipped and broken, roared its song.

  Lacrimosa turned to face her daughter and saw that Gloriae's green eyes shone. The girl panted, her hair golden in the sun.

  And there is new life here too, grief and pain and finally some joy. As I bring life to the stones of Requiem, let me bring new life to my daughter, to my beloved, to my Gloriae.

  She smiled at her daughter, and Gloriae smiled back, the rarest of smiles. She has a beautiful smile, a smile like sunlight on snow.

  "And now, daughter," Lacrimosa said, "we will build an army."

  AGNUS DEI

  They entered King's Forest at dawn, five days after leaving their mountain ruins, and Agnus Dei's throat tightened.

  "The hall of Requiem's kings," she whispered.

  Kyrie took her hand. They stood on a hill and gazed silently upon the ruins. Dead, burned trees lay covered with snow. Requiem's palace lay fallen between them, the palace where Father had once ruled. It had once boasted a hundred columns. They lay smashed now, buried in snow. Only one still stood, two hundred feet tall, its capital shaped as bucking dragons. It rose from the ruins into sunbeams, kissed with light, its marble brighter than the snow.

  "King's Column," Agnus Dei said, voice soft. "That is what it's called. They say even Dies Irae himself, atop his griffin Volucris, could not topple it. They say it is star blessed. I thought it a legend."

  Kyrie nodded. "It won't fall so long as there are living Vir Requis. While it stands, there is hope for Requiem."

  Agnus Dei lit her torch. "Let's move carefully. We might find statues in the ruins. We might also find mimics."

  Kyrie lit his torch too, and they walked downhill toward the palace ruins. The snow glittered under the dawn like a field of stars. It was quiet. Agnus Dei heard only a soft wind, the crackle of their torches, and the crunch of snow under their boots. Lumps rose under the snow. Agnus Dei and Kyrie began brushing snow aside, searching. They found many bricks, fallen blades, a broken lance, a shield, the skeletons of men, and even a griffin's skeleton. They found statues too, but they were smashed: a marble head here, an arm there, pedestals with feet still attached, but no more.

  "Do you think we can repair them?" Agnus Dei asked. She lifted a statue's hand, twice the size of her own, and held it.

  "With what?" Kyrie said, his clothes white with snow. "We have no tools."

  Agnus Dei sighed. It seemed hopeless. Some of the war's largest battles had been fought here. Everything here was smashed, aside from King's Column.

  She turned to look at the pillar. It towered above her, so wide three men could not hug it. Scenes of flying dragons were engraved into the marble. Agnus Dei walked toward the column and touched the stone. It was cold, colder than ice; she could feel that even through her gloves. She ran her fingers over old words carved into the marble. Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky.

  "King Aeternum built this column," she told Kyrie. "He was the first of our line, and among the greatest kings, Father would say. Father was descended from him, did you know? Aeternum ruled seventy-four generations before Father, and his line ruled continuously until the war." She swallowed.

  Kyrie put an arm around her. "The line still stands. You are descended from Aeternum too. When you or Gloriae are crowned, you will be the seventy-seventh monarch of Aeternum's house."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Me or Gloriae—queens? Pup, we are fighters. Survivors. We are no queens. What is there to rule here?" She swept her arms around her. "Nothing remains."

  Kyrie jutted his chin toward King's Column. "That remains. Aeternum's pillar. And we remain, don't we? You and I. Your mother and sister. Lacrimosa is our queen; this is her pillar now, her place to rule. And after her, you and Gloriae will rule."

  Agnus Dei laughed and pinched his cheek. "Pup, you'd hate me as your queen. If you think I'm bossy now, you'd be running to the hills then. And if Gloriae is queen, I think you'd hate that enough to jump off a cliff."

  He grinned. "Maybe you're right. I think a rebellion is in order. I think it might be time for Kyrie Eleison to take power." He laughed, then sighed and took a deep breath. "You're right, kitten. There's not much left here, and not much point for queens, and kings, and palaces. But I like talking about it. It makes me feel like... like it's honoring old Aeternum, if he's watching from the Draco stars. And I feel like we're honoring Benedictus too. When we remember their prayers, their customs, and their lines of power, we're keeping their memory alive. We're carrying their torch. Even if Requiem lies in ruin, and we can never rebuild her, I'll keep carrying this torch. For him. For Benedictus. I loved him."

  Agnus Dei looked at him with damp eyes. She sniffed and nodded. "I loved him too. More than I ever told him in life. I wish he were here, that I could tell him that. I wish.... Oh, pup. There are so many things I wish for. The world seems so dark sometimes, doesn't it? But I'm not giving up." She took his hand and held it tight. "And I'm glad you're with me. I love you too, Kyrie. Don't forget it. If anything happens... if mimics arrive, or Dies Irae himself, and if we lie wounded and dying... know that I love you."

  Her lips trembled and she took deep breaths. Kyrie shoved their torches into the snow, embraced her, and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him, and her body pressed against him. They kissed deeply, desperately, and it was long moments before they drew apart and stood, silently holding hands, staring at the ruins under the snow.

  Suddenly Agnus Dei gasped. "Look, Kyrie!"

  The clouds parted, and the sun emerged. It shone behind King's Pillar, casting a long shadow. The shadow stretched five hundred feet across the snow, like a path. It ended at a hillock of snow beneath burned trees.

  "King Aeternum is showing us something," Agnus Dei said. "Let's look."

  They followed the path of shadow. It led them out of the palace ruins, and into deep snow where birch trees once grew. The way was tricky, with many bricks, old helmets, and shattered weapons hiding under the snow to trip them. When they reached the path's end, they found piles of snow that rose five feet tall. Just then the clouds gathered, and the shadowy path vanished.

  Agnus Dei cleared some snow away. She found herself staring at a woman's marble face.

  "A statue!" she breathed.

  They kept clearing away the snow, and soon revealed the rest of a statue—a nude woman holding a jug.

  "She's perfect," Kyrie said.

  Agnus Dei frowned at him. "Perfect, huh? Keep your eyes off her naughty bits, pup."

  "I mean she's not damaged. There are a few chips, but... the statue is whole. Let's keep digging."

  They kept clearing away snow, and found many pieces of statues—hands, heads, legs, torsos, and pedestals. They placed these parts aside and kept digging. Soon they unearthed a secon
d, complete statue—a warrior holding a marble sword and shield.

  They kept digging and finally found a third complete statue. This one was a king; he sported a crown, robe, and beard.

  "This one is a statue of King Aeternum," Agnus Dei said. "See the two-headed dragon on his shield? It was his sigil."

  Kyrie lifted a hammer and three chisels from the snow. "This place must have been a workshop. A sculptor lived here. King's Column knew we should look here." He closed his eyes. "Thank you, King Aeternum. If you truly watch over us, thank you."

  They found no more whole statues. Grunting and straining, they dragged the complete statues into clear snow and stood them side by side. A nude maiden. A warrior in armor. A proud old king.

  "The girl looks just like you," Kyrie said and reached toward the statue's breasts. Agnus Dei slapped his hand away and glared.

  "This isn't time for jokes, pup," she said. "Give me that chisel and hammer."

  "Hey, what did I do? Don't hammer me over the head."

  "It's not for you, pup. Not yet, at least. We need to give these statues their hearts."

  She began to chisel. It was slow, careful work. She hated damaging these statues, but knew she must. You will be warriors of Requiem.

  Finally she had carved chambers in their chests, where hearts would pulse in living beings.

  "Ready, pup?" she whispered. "I'll animate the warrior and the king. You can animate the girl statue you're so smitten with."

  He nodded. Fingers tingly, Agnus Dei pulled two Animating Stones from her pack. They trembled and thrummed. The light inside them, like red liquid, swirled and reached toward the statues, as if craving new homes. Suddenly Agnus Dei was fearful; sweat beaded on her forehead, and her pulse quickened. If the magic worked, would these statues attack them?

  The Ocean Deities created these stones in the Age of Chaos, she thought. They are as old as the world, and all that's in it. And I hold them in my palm. She took a deep breath. I am a princess of Requiem. Gloriae and I are the last of King Aeternum's line. I will never fear the stones of Requiem.

  She placed one Animating Stone into the marble warrior. Before her courage could desert her, she placed the second Animating Stone into the king. Kyrie planted his stone into the woman, and they stepped back.

  The statues were still.

  "It didn't work," Agnus Dei whispered.

  "Just a moment," Kyrie whispered back. "It—"

  A shrill scream, like crackling ice, rose behind them.

  Agnus Dei spun around, waving her torch.

  Mimics.

  "Oh, stars," she said.

  Kyrie was already nocking an arrow. "More like starfish. Ugly bastards."

  The mimics were emerging from the ruins like spiders from under an upturned rock. They had no heads or torsos; they had only human arms, sewn together into rotting creatures like nightmarish starfish. They squealed and raced across the ruins toward her and Kyrie. There were a dozen at least.

  Agnus Dei lit and fired an arrow. Kyrie fired too. The two arrows shot like comets, but the creatures moved too fast. Both arrows missed. Agnus Dei loaded another arrow, shot again. Her arrow grazed one mimic starfish, but it kept running. Kyrie's second arrow missed.

  They had no time for thirds. The mimics leaped and flew toward them.

  Agnus Dei swung her torch. She hit one starfish as it flew. It squealed, pulled its arms together, and fell into the snow. A second starfish jumped and wrapped around her.

  Agnus Dei screamed and struggled, but the starfish pinned her arms to her sides. One arm was hairy and broad. Another was the thin arm of a young woman. She could not see the others. They squeezed her, crushing her. She dropped her torch and couldn't breathe.

  "Kyrie!" she whispered. She could speak no louder. "Kyrie, help!"

  She managed to turn her head. Stars floated before her eyes. She saw Kyrie lying in the snow. Four mimic starfish wrapped around him. She could see only his left foot and some of his hair. They were biting, squealing, eating him.

  "Kyrie, no!" she cried, eyes burning. "Please...."

  She fell to her knees. Three more mimics jumped and wrapped around her. One's mouth—they had mouths in their centers—opened before her. Its tongue licked her cheek, and its teeth came in to bite.

  It screamed and pulled back.

  Agnus Dei took a ragged breath, kicked, and shouted. The mimic was ripped from her body. Its fingernails scratched her, clinging to her, then were torn free.

  The stone warrior stood before her, its Animating Stone pulsing in its chest. It held the mimic in marble hands, regarded it blankly, then tossed it aside.

  "Get the others!" Agnus Dei shouted. Two other mimics were wrapped around her, one around her stomach, the other around her legs.

  The stone warrior regarded her. Its Animating Stone glowed so brightly, it nearly blinded her. With stone fingers, it cut into the mimic around Agnus Dei's stomach. Pus, worms, and black blood spilled from it. The statue pulled it back. The mimic's fingers clung to Agnus Dei, ripping her cloak and tunic, but the statue managed to pull it free. It ripped two arms off, and blood showered. It tossed the rest aside.

  Agnus Dei kicked and clawed at the starfish around her legs, and managed to free herself. Her legs were scratched and her pants shredded. She found her torch extinguished in the snow. Mimics scuttled toward her. She drew her sword and swung it. Rotting arms flew.

  "Kyrie!" she cried.

  The stone girl was pulling the mimics off him. He was alive, coughing in the snow, bloodied. The third statue, the stone king, was fighting mimics beside him. They wrapped around it, but it kept tearing their limbs off.

  Agnus Dei kept swinging her blade. The severed arms did not die, but kept crawling through the snow toward her. Finally she managed to beat them back long enough to reignite her torch. Snarling, she began to burn them. The arms twitched, hissed, and curled up.

  Finally all the mimics were torn apart, burned, and dead.

  Kyrie rushed to her, blood trickling from a gash on his forearm. "You're hurt."

  She nodded. Her clothes were tattered, her skin bleeding. "What are a few more scratches?"

  They shared a quick embrace, splashed their wounds with spirits, and bound them. Pain filled Agnus Dei, but she ignored it. She was a warrior. She could take pain and keep fighting. Kyrie was pale, and sweat soaked his brow, but he too stood straight, ignoring his wounds. We've become like statues too, she thought. We barely feel pain anymore.

  She turned to look at the statues. The three stood together, splashed with black mimic blood. They stared back, faces blank.

  "We'll need more," Kyrie said, voice hoarse. Mimic blood soaked his clothes.

  Agnus Dei looked at the smashed columns. They lay everywhere, their segments as large as boulders. She gave Kyrie a crooked smile.

  "We have marble. We have tools. We have three statues who will work hard." She patted Kyrie's helmet. "They will build more."

  Would it work? she wondered. It seemed crazy, but... this whole war was crazy. She lifted a hammer and chisel and shook the snow off them. She approached the statue of the king, her ancestor, and placed the tools in his hands. The statue's fingers closed around them, and he stared at her with stone eyes.

  "For years, you lay hidden in ruin," she said to him. "For years, Requiem lay fallen. Today her stones will live. Today you will build brothers and sisters. The fabled columns of Requiem lie smashed now. We cannot rebuild them, but we can raise them to life. Carve them into men and women. Carve them into warriors who can reclaim our glory."

  The statue stood still. Agnus Dei exhaled slowly, feeling like a deflated bellows. He doesn't hear, she thought. Or he doesn't understand. He can move, but not help us.

  She turned to Kyrie. "I don't know how Dies Irae commands them. I don't know how—"

  Kyrie's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Look."

  Agnus Dei spun around. The stone king was walking through the snow, steps slow and creaking. He approached a pi
ece of fallen column. It was larger than him. The statue stood over it, tools in hands.

  "Go on," Agnus Dei whispered. "You know what to do."

  The statue turned to look at her. Agnus Dei stared back. Light filled the king's eyes—starlight. The statue turned back to the marble and began to carve.

  Agnus Dei felt a lump in her throat. She put an arm around Kyrie and kissed his cheek.

  "For the first time in years," she whispered, "Requiem will have an army."

  DIES IRAE

  He stepped onto the parapet, stared down to the courtyard, and beheld an army of rot and worm.

  "Mimics!" he shouted and raised his arms. "Soon you will feast on weredragon flesh!"

  They howled, shrieked, and slammed swords against shields. Pus dripped from their maws. Maggots swarmed across them. Congealed blood covered their bodies like boils.

  My children, Dies Irae thought. My lovelies.

  "Hail Dies Irae!" one mimic cried, a creature with six arms and blades for hands.

  "We will feast!" cried another, a creature with a bloated head like a rotting watermelon.

  A thousand screamed below. Their stench rose to fill Dies Irae's nostrils. He breathed it in lovingly. It was the smell of dead weredragons, of victory.

  "The weredragons murdered your brothers," he called down to them. "With cowardly fire, they burned all mimics who drew near."

  They hissed and screamed. They banged their blades, and their teeth gnashed.

  "But you are not mere scouts!" Dies Irae cried over the din. "You are an army. You are an army bred to kill weredragons."

  Their howls rose. They waved their weapons and screamed for blood.

  "You will eat their bodies! You will suck up their entrails. But bring me their heads. I will sew their heads onto the bodies of women, so that you may take them, and hurt them, and plant your seed inside them. They will be your slaves."

  The mimics screamed and drooled. Some dropped their shields and began rubbing themselves, moaning and screaming. Dies Irae watched and smiled.

  "Who do you serve?" he cried.