Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,162

her sword.

"Gloriae, what are you— Stop tha—"

Gloriae thrust down her sword, piercing the horse's brain. It died instantly, gushing blood. Kyrie covered his mouth, feeling sick.

Gloriae removed her sword, cleaned it with a handkerchief, and stared at Kyrie. Her eyes were emotionless.

"I put it out of its misery," she said. "Crows and jackals would've been eating it alive within the hour."

Kyrie couldn't help but stare at the blood, which was now trickling between his boots. He looked back up at Gloriae, and found no pity, no compassion in her eyes. Gloriae the Gilded. The Light of Osanna.

"Let's go," he said.

They walked down the road, weapons drawn. Their robes, once white and pure, were now grimy with dirt and blood. Mud covered their boots. They walked all morning, their supplies slung over their backs. At noon they saw Fidelium Mountains in the distance, capped with snow. Kyrie's heart leaped. Agnus Dei will be there. He ached to hold her, kiss her, never leave her again.

"We travel cross-country from here," Gloriae said. They left the dirt road and walked through a forest of elms, oaks, and birches. Ferns and bushes grew everywhere. Kyrie slashed at them with his dagger. Everywhere were roots to trip him and branches to slap him.

They emerged from the trees in the afternoon, stepped into a field, and moaned. Kyrie felt like a deflated bellows.

"The bastard," he said. "How did he know?"

The mountain was still distant, but they were close enough to see Dies Irae's banners flapping across it. Archers covered the mountainsides, crouching in the snow. Below the mountain, thousands of soldiers drilled, kicking up snow as they marched and clashed swords. Knights on horseback rode among them, armor glinting.

"Back into the forest, Kyrie," Gloriae whispered.

They stepped back and hid behind an oak. They peered between the leaves, watching silently as the armies ahead drilled.

Hundreds of tents spread below the mountain, Kyrie saw. Most were the simple, squat tents of soldiers. One tent was large as a manor, its walls made of embroidered, golden cloth; Dies Irae would be in that one. Three other tents were even larger, their walls black. Those last tents bulged and fluttered, as if beasts swarmed inside them. Kyrie could hear nightshades shriek, and he shuddered.

"Agnus Dei hid here for a year once," he said. "And you and Dies Irae never thought of seeking her here. How did he know to come here now?"

Gloriae bit her lip, considering. "Remember when the nightshades claimed Agnus Dei?"

"Of course."

"They must have seen her memories. They must have learned of this hideout. And they told Irae. Now he's here, waiting for us."

A thought struck Kyrie, and he shivered. "You don't suppose that... the others got here before us? That Irae caught them?"

Gloriae looked at him. Fear filled her eyes. "I don't know."

Kyrie looked back at the mountain. He watched the golden tent's door open, and saw Dies Irae emerge. He wore his gilded, jewelled armor; it glinted like a small sun. As Kyrie and Gloriae watched from the trees, Dies Irae walked toward the dark, fluttering tent and stepped inside. The tent fluttered more wildly, and the nightshades inside screeched.

"Dies Irae is having fun with his new pets," Kyrie muttered. "Now we know where he keeps them during the daytime."

When he looked at Gloriae, he took a step back. She was pale, trembling, her fists clenched. She bared her teeth. She looked like a cornered wolf.

"I'm going to kill him," she said and took a step out of the trees.

Kyrie grabbed her shoulder. She spun toward him, snarling.

"Let go!" she hissed.

He pulled her back into the brush. "Gloriae, Irae banished you. He disowned you. If you walk up to him now, he'll kill you."

She snorted, sword drawn. "He won't kill his daughter."

"You're not his daughter. You know that now, don't you? And Irae must know it too, or suspect it. Gloriae, please. We'll find a better way."

Her eyes narrowed, and blood rushed into her cheeks. Suddenly she was the old Gloriae, horrible and merciless. "What other way?"

Kyrie thought fast. "Look at that camp. Irae has been here for a while, I'd wager; at least a couple days. The full moon is tonight. If your family already arrived here—your real family—they'd have seen Irae and backtracked."

Gloriae's freckles seemed to flash with rage. Golden flecks danced in her eyes like flames. "Where would they go?"

"To Requiem," Kyrie said. He didn't know if that was true. He knew, however, that he had to get Gloriae away from here—as far