Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,215

the Vir Requis could grab one to swing. Piles of javelins tipped with oiled brushwood lay around the courtyard for easy access. Each Vir Requis wore a steel helmet, greaves, and vambraces. Gloriae wore her breastplate too. They each held a bow, and their quivers held arrows tipped with oiled straw.

"We're ready for battle," Agnus Dei said, surveying the scene. Splinters, sap, and oil covered her gloves.

Kyrie raised an eyebrow. "Ready? No. This is not what I'd call ready. If we had a hundred men, I wouldn't call us ready. But it's as ready as we'll be this night."

Snow began to fall again, and Agnus Dei cursed.

"Will the wood light when wet?" she asked.

Kyrie frowned. "We soaked it with oil. I hope so." But his eyes didn't look hopeful, and his fists tightened.

The sun sent a last flicker of red light, then sank behind the horizon. The wind screamed, and Agnus Dei shivered. She clutched Kyrie's hand.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "Where are they?"

Gloriae and Lacrimosa came to stand by them. They held their bows.

"Do not light fires yet," Lacrimosa whispered. "We don't want a beacon for mimics to see."

Agnus Dei held Kyrie's hand so tightly, he grunted, but she would not let go. She kept scanning the valleys around them, but saw nothing in the darkness. The wind pierced her cloak. She wanted to shift into a dragon, to blow fire, to rush into battle, but dared not. Her magic would fail once those creatures arrived. Agnus Dei gritted her teeth.

"I wish they'd show up already," she said, struggling not to scream out challenges to them. "I hate the waiting. I hate the dark. I want a fight. I want—"

A howl rose in the distance.

Agnus Dei squeezed Kyrie's hand.

For a moment nobody spoke.

"A jackal?" Agnus Dei finally whispered.

A second howl answered the first, distant but loud, gurgling and rising to a squeal.

"That's no jackal," Gloriae said. She hefted her tinderbox. "It's them."

Agnus Dei scanned the night, but saw only shadows. "I can't see them!"

"Quiet," Gloriae said, voice like silk. "Do not speak."

The wind moaned, and another howl sounded. Agnus Dei snarled. Her fingers trembled, and her heart thrashed. Suddenly she wanted to flee, to shift into a dragon and fly for leagues, to disappear into the west.

Stay strong, she told herself. For my family, and for Kyrie.

"Come on," she whispered and growled. "Come on, you bastards. Show yourselves."

Grunts sounded in the distance, and squeals, and thumping feet. A creature screamed, a chilling sound like a slaughtered animal. A rumble answered it, and a shrill cry like a dying cat.

"Weredragons!" rose a cry, high-pitched and inhuman. "We smell them. Yes, brothers. We smell them ahead. We will suck the marrow from their bones."

Agnus Dei released Kyrie's hand and reached into her pack. She clutched the tinderbox she kept there. Strangely, her fingers no longer trembled, and her heart steadied. Now was not the time for terror. Now was the time for battle, for fire, for blood.

"Be brave, Kyrie," she whispered, speaking to herself more than to him. "Be brave for the memory of Father."

The howls grew closer, and a stench hit Agnus Dei's nostrils, a stench of bodies. Countless feet thumped up the mountainsides. Screams curdled her blood.

"Weredragons! We smell them, brothers. We smell sweet blood and marrow. Ahead! On the mountaintop!"

Agnus Dei opened her tinderbox. She placed its flint against firesteel, prepared to strike a spark.

A night of fire. I will be brave, Father. For your memory. I will fight well.

A light flickered—Gloriae lighting her own tinderbox, and soon an arrow blazed in her bow.

Agnus Dei sparked flint against steel, drew an arrow from her quiver, and lit it. She nocked, drew her bowstring, and aimed.

"They have fire, brothers! Fire ahead. They seek to burn us! Feed upon them. Make them as we are!" The squeals and screams filled the darkness.

A third light flickered; Kyrie igniting the ring of fire. It burst into flame around them, a towering wall of light and smoke and heat. Lacrimosa was hurrying from torch to torch, lighting them too—hand-to-hand weapons, should the creatures breach their defenses.

Agnus Dei could see the mimics now, and she couldn't help it. She screamed.

A hundred scurried up the mountainside like cockroaches. They were creatures of rot, worms, maggots, bones and stitches. Blood covered their teeth. Their eyes blazed, and their claws reached toward them. Their leader bore two swords. When it held them out, Agnus Dei saw that its arms were seven feet long; each was sewn together from