Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,167

she shoved him back.

"You don't even know, do you?" she asked. She snarled, but her eyes were red, as if she were about to cry.

"No!" he said. "I never know anything about you, Agnus Dei. I don't know why sometimes you're happy, and sometimes you're sad, and sometimes you're angry at me. I don't know why one moment, you're noble and proud, and the next moment, you spit and curse. And I don't know why you look like you want to kill me now."

Tears flowed down her cheeks, drawing lines through the dirt. "Of course you don't know!" she shouted. She clenched her fists. "You don't know me at all. You never bothered to get to know me. I grew up with Mother in caves, in tunnels, in hovels. You were off in your forest. I saw you maybe once a month, for only a few hours—"

Benedictus growled. "You know why. I've told you many times."

She rolled her eyes, sniffing. "Yes, yes. We were safer away from you. You know what? That's griffin dung. I think you just enjoyed being away from us. Being away from the memories. Not having to remember how you saved us, while everyone else died, and—"

"Agnus Dei!" he roared, voice so loud the chamber trembled, and dust rained from the ceiling. She froze, fell silent, and glared at him. Her hair was damp, and she panted.

"Agnus Dei," he said again, softly this time. "I love you. More than anything. More than life."

She stared at him silently. Slowly her fists unclenched. "You never tell me that," she said. "You never told me growing up."

He embraced her. She squirmed and struggled, but finally capitulated.

"I'm telling you now," he said. "I love you, daughter. I love you and Gloriae more than anything. I've always only wanted to protect you."

She sighed. "I hate you sometimes, Father."

"I know. That's all right. I hate myself sometimes."

She raised her eyes. "Really? You shouldn't." She sighed. "You snore, and you hum, and you make an annoying sound when you eat. You grumble way too much, and you don't shave nearly often enough. But you're not that bad, Dada. I'm sorry."

He scratched his stubble. "I do need a shave, don't I?"

She nodded. "Let's get out of here," she said. "We have a mountain to climb in the morning."

GLORIAE

The road was long, winding, and full of sadness.

Gloriae saw the sadness of the land—the bodies in the gutters, the toppled temples, the burning towns. She saw hungry children peeking from logs, from trees, from holes in the ground. She saw the blood and mud that covered them, the hunger in their eyes. Wilted trees filled the forests; nightshades had flown by them. Forts lay as scattered bricks. The horror she had unleashed from the Well of Night covered the world.

She looked at Kyrie, who walked beside her. He was staring at the wilted trees, eyes dark. Gloriae slipped her hand into his. He tried to pull his hand back, but she held him tight.

"Don't let me go," she said to him. He sighed and let her hold his hand.

"I have a memory of Requiem," she said. "From when I was three. I remember our home. I think it was our house. I remember marble tiles, and birches, and harps. Kyrie, what do you remember?"

He looked at the wilted trees, lost in thought. Finally he said, "I remember the temple with the fruit trees outside. I remember the harps too. And... I remember seeing many dragons in the skies. Thousands of them, entire herds."

Gloriae tried to imagine it—thousands of dragons, the sun on their scales, the sky in their nostrils. She imagined herself among them, a golden dragon, gliding through the clouds, her true people around her.

She looked at the ruins around her, and thought of the ruins of Requiem, and Gloriae made a decision. She squeezed Kyrie's hand, and smiled to herself, but said nothing.

In the afternoon, the forest recovered. The trees were not wilted, but alive with golden, red, and yellow leaves. Birds flew and deer grazed. A sign on the road pointed to a town, and promised a tavern and bathhouse.

Kyrie sighed. "I supposed this is another town you want to avoid. Too dangerous, huh."

"Actually, I'd like to visit that tavern," Gloriae said. "I've had enough of sleeping in logs and burrows, haven't you?"

Kyrie raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you say just the other day, how nightshades are smart enough to search inns now, and how Dies Irae has informants in them, and how you're