Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,12

Kyrie... you feel no fear, only anger. That is rare for weredragons, who are known for their cowardice."

"Yes, yes," Kyrie said, and Mirum knew that he was scared now, terrified, but letting his anger drown that fear. "I have weredragon features, and Eleison is a weredragon name. I hear that all the time. Why do you think I hide here? People always mistake me for a weredragon. My father was one. But then... so was yours, wasn't he, Irae?"

Mirum gasped. Nobody mentioned Dies Irae's father to him. Nobody who wished to live. Everyone knew that this was Dies Irae's greatest shame.

Dies Irae's thin mouth curved bitterly, and lines ran down his face. His fist clenched the ilbane, and sap dripped. "Yes," he said, "my father was a weredragon. The filthiest, most cowardly among them."

"He was their king," Kyrie spat out, eyes aflame. "But you were a disgrace to him, weren't you? His firstborn son... but without the ancient magic, unable to become a dragon. You were a freak in his court, weren't you? So he disowned you. He had another son, Benedictus, to replace you—"

"Enough!" Dies Irae shouted, so loudly that Mirum, Irae's lieutenants, and even Kyrie started. Dies Irae shook with fury, fist clenched, face red. His eyes burned. "My lineage is none of your concern, weredragon. That old, royal house of Requiem is gone now. My father is dead. My brother is dead—"

"Benedictus is not dead," Kyrie interrupted, and Mirum wept, because she knew that their torture and deaths were now certain. "You never killed Benedictus. You stole his amulet, and you stole his griffins, but you never killed him. Your brother bit off your arm. He could have killed you, but he showed you mercy, and he flew away. I know! I was there. I saw it happen—"

Kyrie froze and bit his lip.

Oh, Kyrie..., Mirum thought, tears in her eyes.

Dies Irae stared silently for a moment, a moment that seemed to Mirum to last a lifetime. Finally he broke the silence. "You were... there. Certainly you were too young a decade ago to fight under my banners." Dies Irae raised his fist, bringing the ilbane near Kyrie... and then pressed the leaves to Kyrie's cheek.

Kyrie tried not to scream. His teeth gritted, and sweat washed him, and his eyes moistened. Mirum saw welts rise on his cheek, and his fist clutched his map, that parchment forever at his belt, as if it could save him, give him strength. Mirum struggled to free herself from Molok, but could not. Finally voice found her throat.

"Fly, Kyrie!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Kyrie too shouted, a cry of pain. He leaped away from Dies Irae, cheek blistering, and suddenly fangs grew from his mouth. Claws sprouted from his fingertips. Dies Irae swung his mace, but Kyrie leaped back, and the mace missed him.

Kyrie leaped off the tower.

In the chaos, Molok's grip loosened. Mirum twisted, freed herself, and drew her blade.

She thrust her sword at Dies Irae. You killed my father! she wanted to scream. You raped me! You murdered millions! But everything happened so fast, she had time for only a wordless cry of all her rage and tears. Her blade gleamed.

Dies Irae swung his mace, met her blade, and shattered it.

Mirum fell to her knees, clutching her bladeless hilt, and saw a dragon rise over the tower's crenellations, forty feet long and roaring. Blue scales covered Kyrie. Flames rose from his nostrils, and his wings churned the air, blowing the hair back from Mirum's face. Mirum heard the thud of griffin wings, their eagle shrieks.

"Fly, Kyrie!" Mirum shouted. He was reaching toward her. "Leave me! Follow your map, Kyrie, and fly!"

Kyrie's claws almost caught her, but Dies Irae's mace slammed into them, knocking them away. Kyrie howled and blew fire into the sky. One griffin rose behind him, clung to his back, and bit his shoulder.

"Fly, Kyrie!"

The last thing Mirum saw was Dies Irae's mace. It swung toward her head.

She felt only an instant of pain.

White light flooded her.

Floating.

Her spirit... flying, gazing down upon her body, her blood upon the mossy old stones of Fort Sanctus, her home, the home of her forefathers.

And then... nothing but light.

Father....

Child....

She could now see nothing, nothing but white, but she could imagine the rolling lands of her realm, their proud towers standing again, the sea that called her home.

I'm going to that world, the kingdom of waterdepths, the land of seaweed and seashells, of beads of light and endless sleep, endless