Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,16

still remained at sea? Either way, she would live. He'd seek her soon.

Fingers stiff, Dies Irae caressed the amulet that hung around his neck, the amulet that contained the blood of the griffin king. As always, touching the amulet calmed him. The Griffin Heart. For centuries, it had hung around the necks of his ancestors, a jewel of Requiem's courts.

When Volucris saw the amulet, he bucked and clawed the air.

"Yes, Volucris," Dies Irae whispered. "Yes, it hurts to see, does it not? It burns your eyes."

The griffin growled, and Dies Irae patted him. Volucris mewled and clawed the beach. Dies Irae remembered that day long ago, the day he took the Griffin Heart, took the amulet that should have always been his.

"For one hundred generations, the Griffin Heart went to the firstborn," he had said that day, a younger man, not yet forty and still full of youth's rage and strength. "Father! How dare you deny me this?" Tears had stung his eyes, and his voice had quavered.

His father sat upon Requiem's throne of twisting oak roots, the throne now chopped up and burned. The king looked down upon Dies Irae, his firstborn, the giftless son. His shame. The shame of the court.

"My son," the king said, "I have told you. This court is forbidden to you. How dare you enter it? How dare you demand a gift from me?"

Around the court of Requiem, the lords stared silently, grim, hands on their sword hilts. They wore green and silver, dragons embroidered onto their tunics. Beyond the columns, Dies Irae could see Requiem Forest, the hoary birches that spread for leagues. Birds chirruped and griffins flew above.

Standing below the throne, Dies Irae glared at his father. "I will not hide in my chambers any longer. I will not sit with the women of your court, learning to scribe, learning to count, learning to become some servant to you. I am your firstborn. I demand the—"

"You are a disgrace!" Father shouted, rising to his feet. Dies Irae froze and stared. So did the lords of the court. Even the birds fell silent. The King of Requiem stood, white hair wild, liver-spotted fists clenched.

"Father," Dies Irae whispered, lips trembling.

The king took a step toward him, jaw clenched. "How dare you demand anything from me? I do not know whose son you are, boy. You cannot turn into a dragon. What kind of Vir Requis are you? You think you can lead this people, sit upon this throne, use the Griffin Heart to tame them? You are no son of mine. I do not know what human my wife bedded, or how you were begotten, but—"

Dies Irae shouted, tears falling. "I am no bastard son! I am your son. The son of the king. No, I cannot turn into a dragon. I lack the gift. Others do too. Dozens of us were born this way, but you banish us. You make us your servants, but we're not weak. I will take the Griffin Heart. I will wear the amulet. I might not have dragon wings, but I will have griffin ones. And when I control the griffins, you will pay, Father, you will—"

"Brother!" came a voice from behind, and Dies Irae's voice died. Shaking with fury, he spun around to see Benedictus.

His younger brother was entering the hall. He wore green and gray, forest garb. He must have been out hunting, as was his wont. His black curls clung to his brow with sweat.

"Benedictus!" Dies Irae called across the hall. "Prince Benedictus, I should say. Heir to our throne. Baby brother." The words tasted vile.

Benedictus. Born to replace him, Dies Irae, the elder son. Benedictus, the second born. The great Vir Requis prince, able to become the great black dragon. Future king. You too will kneel before me, Dies Irae swore. You too will beg for mercy when the Griffin Heart hangs around my neck.

"Brother," Benedictus said and reached out callused hands. "Father. Please. Do not yell. Perhaps we can give the Griffin Heart to Dies Irae, Father. If I was born to sit upon the throne, he can sit beside me, rule the griffins for me."

Dies Irae spat. "I'll do nothing for you," he said. His hand strayed toward his sword. "I am first born, and I'll not see you sit upon any throne. If I cannot have this throne for myself, and myself only, I will destroy it. I will rule this kingdom, or I will burn it."

With a hiss, he drew