Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,124

eyes from it.

That was when she noticed, from the corner of her eyes, that others stood in the ring of fire.

The weredragons.

Gloriae gasped, spun to face them, then spun back to the nightshade. She didn't know who posed a greater threat, but she knew that she would die. She could not defeat both these enemies.

All four weredragons were there—Benedictus, their king, a gruff man with a tangle of black curls; Lacrimosa, his wife, a dainty and pale woman; Kyrie Eleison, the boy who had wounded Gloriae's leg. Agnus Dei was there too, but she lay on the ground, eyes open but unseeing, and Gloriae knew what that meant. The nightshades had gotten her.

In a flash, Gloriae realized that she herself had claimed Agnus Dei's soul—or at least, lived in the nightshade that had done so. A shard of that soul still pulsed within Gloriae, weak but crying inside her. Now that she gazed upon Agnus Dei, she could feel it inside her, weeping, crying for release.

She had no time to ponder it further. The three standing weredragons looked at her, then shifted. Soon three dragons blew fire beside her. Gloriae ducked and hid behind her shield, but the dragons were not burning her. They were shooting fire at the nightshade. It screeched, and Gloriae watched, mouth hanging open. The creature seemed to suck in the light, to cancel it out. The dragons kept blowing fire at it, white hot fire that drenched Gloriae with sweat.

I can shift too, she thought. I can help them. I can also blow fire. I shifted once.

But no. She dared not, would not. She had vowed never again to shift. She would not allow the curse to claim her.

The fire kept burning, and finally the nightshade shrieked and flew away. Gloriae watched it disappear into the night, fleeing into the forest.

The weredragons shifted back into human forms. For a moment, they all stared at one another.

Then Gloriae raised Per Ignem. She would have shot them, but had no quarrel in her crossbow, nor time to load one. She pointed her blade at Benedictus.

"You will not touch me," she hissed. The ring of fire crackled around them. "Take one step forward, lizard, and your head will be my trophy."

Benedictus scowled, Lacrimosa shed a tear, and Kyrie rolled his eyes.

"Oh, give it a rest!" said the boy. He pointed his dagger at her. "Gloriae, you are denser than a mule's backside, and just about as pleasant. Even I figured out Benedictus and Lacrimosa are your parents by now, and I'm not even related. Can you really be so dumb?" He spoke slowly, as if spelling out a truth to a child. "Benedictus is your father, not Dies Irae. Lacrimosa is your mother. Dies Irae lied to you. You are a Vir Requis. Get it? Good. Now sheathe your sword, before I clobber some sense into your pretty head."

Gloriae gasped. Nobody had ever insulted her like that. If anyone ever had, they'd be broken, slung through a wagon wheel, and left to die atop her city. She took a step toward Kyrie, sword raised.

"I will cut your lying tongue from your mouth."

He gave her a crooked smile. "I'd like to see you try, sweetheart."

Benedictus stepped toward them, fists clenched. "Stop this," he demanded.

Gloriae swung Per Ignem at him.

So fast she barely saw him move, Benedictus raised a dagger and parried. With his other hand, he shoved her back. She fell two paces, snarled, and prepared to attack again... but Kyrie reached out a foot, tripping her.

She fell. Benedictus placed a boot on her wrist and yanked her sword free. Kyrie leaped onto her back and held her down, pressing her head into the mud.

"Take her crossbow too," Benedictus said. "And there's a dagger on her thigh. Grab it."

As Gloriae struggled, Lacrimosa took her weapons. She screamed and floundered, but Kyrie and Benedictus held her down. Mud and hair filled her mouth, but she managed to scream.

"Cowards! Fight like men. I will kill you, weredragons."

"Stars, she's dumb," Kyrie said, his forearm on the back of her neck, holding her head down. "Are you sure she's your daughter, Lacrimosa? Maybe she was actually born to a warthog. She does smell like one."

Gloria screamed into the mud. She felt Kyrie pull her arms back and bind her wrists. She kicked, but Benedictus grabbed her legs and tied them too.

No, no! I cannot fall prisoner to weredragons. Cannot. Tears burned in her eyes. First she had failed to kill them. Then Lacrimosa