Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,231

dripped onto her face, thick with dead ants. Agnus Dei grimaced and kicked the creature's stomach.

The mimic fell off, and Agnus Dei jumped up. She slammed the torch into the fallen mimic, but another one leaped onto her back. Teeth ripped at her shoulder, and she screamed. Her thick, woollen cloak absorbed most of the bite, but those teeth still tore flesh.

She spun, swinging her torch, but was too slow. The mimic barrelled into her, and she fell again. Teeth closed around her forearm, pressing into the armor. The creature snarled, steam rising from its nostrils. Worms filled its fur.

The words of the mimic last night returned to her. We were made with drops of Benedictus's blood....

Rage filled Agnus Dei. She dropped her torch, drew her dagger, and shoved it into the wolf's eye.

It screamed and released her. She scrambled to her feet and shoved her torch into its rotting face. The head caught flame, and soon the whole body burned and writhed. She stared down at it, the fire stinging her eyes, and spat onto its body.

"Agnus Dei," Kyrie said, panting. "Agnus Dei, you're hurt."

She turned to see three mimic bodies at his feet, burned dead. Teeth marks peppered his arm; he clutched the wound.

"I hate these bastard mimics," she said and tightened her jaw. The smoke and heat stung her eyes. "I hate the damn things. I hate them."

He nodded. "I know. I do too. More than anything—other than Irae, maybe."

Agnus Dei tossed her torch aside, took three large strides, and embraced him. He held her in the snow and smoke, and she rested her head against his shoulder. His hand, bloody, smoothed her hair.

"I hate them, by the stars," she whispered, throat tight. "I hate their lies. I want to burn them all."

"We will," Kyrie promised.

She stared into his eyes. She touched his cheek, smearing ash and blood across it. "I love you, Kyrie. I'm sorry if I tease you sometimes, or call you a pup. You're a good fighter. And you're strong. Don't forget that, Kyrie."

"Okay, kitten," he said, and gave her a smile and wink.

She couldn't help but laugh. It felt good. She kissed his cheek, and pushed him back, and said, "Let's bandage these wounds, then keep walking. And try to keep up this time."

LACRIMOSA

The mimic scurried toward them like a starfish. It had no torso, no legs, no head. It was nothing but five human arms growing around a mouth.

Nausea filled her, and Lacrimosa screamed.

The creature raced toward her on five hands. The mouth in its center snapped open and closed, making sucking noises.

Gloriae shot her bow. A flaming arrow flew and hit an arm. That arm collapsed and burned, but the creature kept racing on its four good arms.

Lacrimosa wanted to gag. She wanted to run. Instead she raced toward the creature, shouted, and swung her torch.

The flames hit the creature between two arms, and it squealed, a sound like a child crying. She had expected a howl of rage; this high, pained mewl shocked her, and Lacrimosa lowered her torch.

The mimic leaped and wrapped its arms around her. It hugged her, crushing her, and its mouth came in to bite.

"Get off her!" Gloriae cried and stabbed it. The mimic squealed—a child's squeal. Blood gushed from it.

Lacrimosa struggled. The arms felt like they could snap her ribs. The mouth opened before her face, screaming, full of teeth. She tried to push it back, but it pinned her arms to her sides. Her torch fell to the ground.

"Burn, you freak," Gloriae said, lifted the fallen torch, and held it to the creature.

It screamed. The flames rose, intolerably hot. Lacrimosa grimaced and closed her eyes. She struggled and writhed, freed an arm, and shoved the burning mimic off.

It curled up at her feet, scurried, and fell. Flames and smoke rose from it. Still it cried, the sound of a human girl.

Gloriae nocked another arrow. Lacrimosa wanted to stop her. No, she wanted to cry. No, it's only a child! Don't kill it. But she knew that death was mercy for this thing, this starfish of arms growing from a crying mouth.

Gloriae shot her arrow into that mouth.

Blood flowed, and the creature convulsed, then lay still.

"Hideous thing," Gloriae said and spat onto it. "Disgusting."

Lacrimosa said nothing. She stared down at the burning mimic, wondering who it had been in life. Who had given it these five arms, this mouth? Soldiers? Farmers? Was one a child?

She forced a deep, shaky breath. "Let's get its Animating Stone."

Once