by her.
"Agn—" he began, but then she screamed. Benedictus looked back down to see Dies Irae lunging at him.
Dies Irae's sword flew. Benedictus parried. The blades clanged and raised sparks.
The blades drew apart, clanged again. Around them the fires burned, the armies watched, the winds howled, and the rain fell. Benedictus had not dueled with blades for years, not since Requiem had fallen. His shoulders ached, his wounds burned, and he felt sluggish as he swung his blade.
Dies Irae thrust his sword, and Benedictus grunted as he parried. Dies Irae thrust again. Benedictus parried again, but barely. His boot slipped, and he fell to one knee.
The armies gasped. Agnus Dei screamed.
Dies Irae's blade came swinging down, reflecting the fires. Benedictus parried and punched, hitting Dies Irae's helmet. His knuckles ached; he might have broken them. Dies Irae fell into the mud. Benedictus leaped up and swung his sword.
His blade hit Dies Irae's helmet.
Dies Irae, grinning with blood in his mouth, pushed himself up and swung his sword.
Benedictus blocked, thrust, and hit Dies Irae's breastplate. His blow sent jewels flying, but could not break the steel. Dies Irae thrust, and his blade sliced Benedictus's arm. Blood flew, and Agnus Dei screamed again.
Benedictus howled and charged in fury, swinging his sword. Dies Irae blocked the blade with his mace, that left arm of steel.
Benedictus's blade shattered. Shards flew, leaving only a hilt and jagged steel in Benedictus's hand.
"It's over, Benedictus!" Dies Irae cackled and swung his blade. Benedictus parried with his broken sword. He managed to divert the bulk of the blow, but the sword still sliced his shoulder, and Benedictus fell to his knees.
Dies Irae swung his sword again.
Benedictus rolled aside, grabbed a shard of broken blade from the mud, and thrust it up.
The metal drove deep into Dies Irae's left eye.
Dies Irae screamed. It was a horrible scream, a shriek like a dying horse. He clawed at his face, but could not pull out the shard in his eye.
"Damn you, Benedictus!" he screamed, a high pitched sound, inhuman. Blood spurted. He fell to his knees, hand covering his wound. Suddenly he was blubbering, blood and mucus and tears flowing down him.
Benedictus rose slowly to his feet. Blood covered him, and he could barely feel his arm. He limped toward his brother. Dies Irae had dropped his sword, and Benedictus lifted it. He held the blade over his brother's head. Everyone watched around them, but dared not move or speak. The rain pattered.
"It is over now, brother," Benedictus said and raised the sword. Dies Irae was weeping. "Goodbye."
Dies Irae shook his head and held out his hands, one hand of flesh, the other a fist of steel. "Please, please, brother," he said. "Spare me, please. I beg you." He bowed, covering his samite and jeweled armor with mud and blood. He wept. "I beg you, Benedictus. Spare me. Show me mercy. I am your brother."
Benedictus stared down. The rain kept falling, steaming against burning bodies. Benedictus looked at those bodies, thousands of them, and around them thousands of old skeletons from the war years ago. So many had died already. So many deaths because of these struggles between him and his brother.
"What are you waiting for?" Kyrie shouted somewhere above. "Kill him!"
But Benedictus could not. He could not ten years ago, and he could not now. Not after all this blood, all this death. His brother was a monster. A murderer. A despot who had committed horrible crimes. But he was still Benedictus's blood, still a man who begged for life, a man who was surrendering to him.
Benedictus looked down at this groveling, pathetic creature. Disgust filled him.
"You will return with me to the ruins of Requiem," Benedictus said, tears choking his voice. "We will stand among the columns which you toppled, among the graves of the children you murdered, and there you will stand trial. No, I will not kill you, Dies Irae. But I will judge you. For the rest of your life, you will live imprisoned to me. You will watch as I return Osanna to its old kings. You will watch as I show the world the crimes you've committed."
Benedictus, King of Requiem, lowered his sword.
Sobbing on his knees, Dies Irae crawled toward him in the mud. "Thank you, thank you," he blubbered, blood covering him, and reached out as if to kiss Benedictus's boots.
But instead, so quickly Benedictus barely saw it, Dies Irae drew a hidden dagger.
The blade flashed.
Agnus Dei screamed.
The dagger buried itself into Benedictus's