Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy

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Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 74

by Daniel Arenson


  Kyrie approached her, eyes somber. A scar ran along his forehead, a lingering whisper from the Battle of King's Forest. A beard was growing over his cheeks, frosted white, and Gloriae found herself wondering at how he had grown. She had fought a boy once, and mocked him, and hurt him; the war had killed that boy.

  "Many kings and queens of Requiem have sinned," he said. "They enslaved griffins. They cast out Dies Irae from their court, and scorned him, and drove him to his rage. From the fire, we are reborn, purer, stronger. This is true of Requiem herself. It is true of you too, Gloriae. You have been raised to destroy Requiem. Let your hands be those that rebuild it. This is just." He knelt before her and lowered his head. "My queen."

  Agnus Dei knelt too, tears in her eyes. "My sister. My queen."

  Terra and Memoria knelt next, their heads lowered, their drawn swords held with tips in the snow.

  "My queen."

  "My queen."

  Gloriae looked at them kneeling around her, and looked up at King's Column, and looked at the sky strewn with winter's last clouds.

  I am no longer Gloriae the Gilded, she thought. Let that woman fade into the wind. I am Gloriae of Requiem, of starlight and fire.

  She whispered softly, and the others whispered along with her, echoing her words.

  "As the leaves fall upon our marble tiles, as the breeze rustles the birches beyond our columns, as the sun gilds the mountains above our halls—know, young child of the woods, you are home, you are home. Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."

  KYRIE ELEISON

  He stood alone in the snow, the burned trees icy around him. He wrapped his cloak around him and watched the sunrise. It spread pink and yellow fingers across the sky, rivers of dawn.

  "I miss you, Mirum," he said softly. "We used to watch the sunrise together from Fort Sanctus above the sea."

  He sighed, his shoulders heavy. Requiem was free now, beautiful under the snow, and they had defeated their enemies... but Kyrie couldn't stop thinking about all those he had lost in this war. His parents. The Lady Mirum, his foster sister and best friend. Benedictus, his king and mentor. Lacrimosa, his queen, his inspiration. So many had died. So much pain still filled him, even in this victory.

  He looked over the valleys and hills and took a deep breath. But I have Agnus Dei, he thought. I have my brother and sister. And I have Gloriae.

  He tightened his cloak around him. Gloriae. Who was she to him? He had hated her once. He had fought her. He had watched her laugh as Dies Irae murdered Mirum. And... he had lain with her in the ruins of Osanna. He had sworn to defend her with his sword. She was his queen, his friend, and....

  "Kyrie."

  He turned his head and saw her emerge from the ruins. Gloriae no longer wore her armor. Today she wore a green dress Silva had given her, a silver cloak lined with fur, and a pair of moleskin gloves. Her golden locks cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes stared at him, solemn.

  "Gloriae."

  She approached him, stood behind him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. She laid her head against him.

  "Kyrie," she said softly, "do you know what I want to tell you this morning?"

  His throat itched and his fingers tingled. "Yes."

  She walked around him, faced him, and held his hands. "It's been over three moons now, four I think. You remember that night, when autumn leaves covered the ground."

  He nodded, and his heart thrashed against his ribs. His eyes stung. "I remember," he whispered.

  She embraced him and kissed his cheek. "I told Agnus Dei," she said. "She's happy for us, Kyrie. She won't let this change what you two have. I won't either. This is a great blessing."

  Her eyes were soft, and she smiled. He smiled too, his breath shook, and he held Gloriae as they watched the sunrise.

  "Are you still ready, Kyrie?" she whispered.

  He nodded. "I am. I've never wanted anything more."

  They walked through the ruins and frosty trees, and saw King's Column before them. Terra and Memoria stood there, garbed in green and silver, their swords at their hips. They smiled at him, eyes damp.

  When he saw Agnus Dei, Kyrie's breath caught.

  She stood between his siblings, head lowered shyly, arms behind her back. When she looked up at him, her eyes were shy, questioning, trembling with tears. She was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. She wore a green gown and flowers in her hair. She smiled through her tears, and reached out to him. On her left arm, she wore a giltwood hand Silva had carved her, its fingers moving on invisible joints.

  Kyrie approached his bride and held her hands, one hand soft and warm, the other hard and smooth. They walked to stand before King's Column, and gazed over the shattered hall of Requiem's kings. Snowflakes fell around them, filling their hair.

  Terra and Memoria stood at their sides. Gloriae stood before them, eyes solemn.

  "This is a sad day," the Queen of Requiem whispered. "This is a day when we still mourn those we lost. But I know that Benedictus and Lacrimosa are watching over us. They stand now in our starlit halls, and they smile."

  Agnus Dei nodded, biting her lip. Tears spiked her lashes.

  Kyrie could never afterwards remember Gloriae's words. She spoke of love, and joy, and a future for Requiem. And he spoke too—spoke of meeting Agnus Dei, of loving her always, of growing old by her side. But words glided like snowflakes, and he thought only of her eyes, and her smile, and the light in her hair, and he marvelled at how much joy she gave him, and how the mere touch of her hand spread warmth through him.

  He kissed her, arms around her. She mussed his hair and laughed.

  "Pup," she said, and winked, and cried.

  They walked through the forest, hand in hand.

  The snowflakes fell, and melted, and the ice left the trees. They planted gardens, and for the first time in years, life grew in Requiem: sweet peas, and mint, and squash, and enough flowers for Memoria to pick every day, and place inside the cave where they lived. And they lived—like the wild dragons of old, nesting upon cliffs, sleeping in caves, roaring in the dawn and herding across the sky.

  "It's a new spring," Kyrie said as they planted birches around the ruins of their temples. He brushed soil off his hands. "These trees will be saplings next year, and the year after that. But when our children pray here, tall trees will shade them, and countless leaves will rustle around them."

  The twins smiled and placed their hands upon their bellies.

  Under summer's blue skies, Gloriae lay in their cave and shouted and clutched Kyrie's hand. Memoria delivered their child, and held up the squalling, red creature that Kyrie thought looked so ugly, he couldn't help but laugh and cry.

  "It's a girl," Memoria said. "A golden-haired girl."

  Gloriae took the baby into her arms, and nursed her, and kissed her head. "Her name is Luna."

  Autumn winds blew, and Kyrie found himself in the cave again, holding Agnus Dei's hand as she shouted, and cursed him, and swore to beat him bloody. When Memoria held up the child, Kyrie thought this one ugly too, wrinkled and red and squealing. This babe had curly black hair, like lambs' wool.

  "It's a son," Memoria said, smiling, and placed the baby in Agnus Dei's arms.

  Agnus Dei nodded, her brow and hair sweaty, and kissed the child. "His name is Ben."

  Once he had lain in blood, dying. Once he had hidden in a tower, trapped and frightened. Once he had fought wars, and killed, and seen those he loved die. Two years after he escaped Fort Sanctus, flying over the sea with Dies Irae in pursuit, Kyrie found himself waging a new war—battling soiled swaddling clothes, and cleaning baby sickness off his shoulders, and nursing sick and crying creatures that he loved deeply. I am happy, he often thought, even when bone-tired after hunting, farming, tending to the babes, and fleeing Agnus Dei when she chased him for breaking a plate or forgetting to weed the garden. I am happy.

  And yet... at nights, he often lay awake, and those memories returned to him. Lady Mirum, her skull shattered, fal
ling upon the tower. Benedictus, dead in his arms. Lacrimosa, blood pouring down her chest, soaking the snow around her. When night fell, and the others slept around him in the cave, he stared into the darkness, and still saw the mimic bats, and the eyes of the nightshades, and the fire and blood of Lanburg Fields.

  He would gently remove Agnus Dei's arm which draped over him, and tiptoe out of their cave, and stand in the darkness. He would stare into the horizon, and wait for sunlight, and he would miss them. Mirum. Benedictus. Lacrimosa. His friends. I am happy. I've never been happier. And he knew then that time did not heal all hurts. Not all memories faded. The scar on his forehead would remain; so would these terrors in the night, and this pain in his chest.

  He'd return into the cave, and sneak back into their pile of furs, and kiss Agnus Dei's cheek as she mumbled and shifted. I love you, Agnus Dei. Now. Forever. I am happy so long as I have you.

  When the first snow fell, they gathered in their cave. The twins, holding their babes. Kyrie and his siblings. Seven Vir Requis, the last of their kind. They ate the sweet peas, and the squash, and the turnips, and the other crops they grew in their garden. And they ate the game they hunted beyond Requiem's borders, in the forests of Osanna where Silva now reigned.

  And for the first time, they spoke of it.

  "What happens when they grow?" Kyrie said softly, watching his children.

  The twins looked up at him, rocking their babes in their arms. Terra and Memoria looked at each other, then back at him.

  Agnus Dei answered him. "I don't know," she said softly.

  Kyrie touched Ben's cheek. The baby reached out and held his pinky finger.

  "They... they have nobody but each other," he said. "Brother and sister. How will... well, I mean...." He tongue felt heavy. "Being related, how would...."

  Agnus Dei groaned. "Pup, I think the babies are more eloquent than you. You want to ask how they'd breed. How our people will continue, if the entire next generation is brother and sister."

  He bristled and felt his cheeks redden. "Well, I might have phrased it better than that, if you'd have given me a chance."

  Agnus Dei rolled her eyes, but it was Gloriae who answered.

  "He was terrified of it."

  They all looked at her. She stared at them over her meal, face blank.

  "Who, Gloriae?" Kyrie asked her. "Terrified of what?"

  "Dies Irae," she answered, and Kyrie shuddered. He saw the others shudder too. They had not spoken his name since he had died.

  "Terrified of what?" Kyrie asked softly.

  She stared at him, eyes icy. "Of our magic. Of our curse. He claimed that weredragons would rape the women of his empire, and infect them with reptilian blood. That their disease could spread." She caressed Luna's hair and sighed. "Many men and women of Osanna died too; they too want to rebuild the world."

  They all looked at one another, the words sinking in. Terra laughed softly. Memoria raised her eyebrows, then laughed too. Agnus Dei looked at them all in shock. Kyrie only sighed—a deep, contented sigh.

  Yes, he thought. I am happy.

  Gloriae—the Light of Osanna, the Maiden of Steel, the Queen of Requiem—smiled. She rocked her baby, and her voice was warm.

  "It's time to mingle with the people who feared us, hated us, and hunted us... and give them a bit of our magic."

  THE END

  AFTERWORD

  It was a long journey, and we've come to its end. The story that began in Blood of Requiem, at Fort Sanctus by the sea, is now complete. I hope you enjoyed reading about Requiem. I'm grateful and humbled that you've chosen to share this story with me.

  The Song of Dragons trilogy has ended, but Requiem's story continues.

  It continues not with a fourth Song of Dragons book, but with a whole new trilogy—a "sequel trilogy" titled Dragonlore. This new series is set years after the events in Song of Dragons; it tells of Requiem struggling to rebuild and facing new threats. The first Dragonlore novel is titled A Dawn of Dragonfire; it's available now in all the ebook stores.

  Thank you again for reading this story, and I hope you choose to fly with Requiem's dragons again.

  Daniel, 2012

  NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON

  Standalones:

  Firefly Island (2007)

  The Gods of Dream (2010)

  Flaming Dove (2010)

  Misfit Heroes:

  Eye of the Wizard (2011)

  Wand of the Witch (forthcoming)

  Song of Dragons:

  Blood of Requiem (2011)

  Tears of Requiem (2011)

  Light of Requiem (2011)

  Dragonlore:

  A Dawn of Dragonfire (2012)

  A Day of Dragon Blood (forthcoming)

  KEEP IN TOUCH

  www.DanielArenson.com

  [email protected]

  Facebook.com/DanielArenson

  Twitter.com/DanielArenson

 

 

 


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