Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,295

night. He looked at Agnus Dei. Blood filled her hair and smeared her face. Her armor was dented and her clothes were mere tatters.

"I love you, Agnus Dei," he said.

She looked at him, fear in her eyes. "I love you too, Kyrie. In this life and in our starlit halls."

They fought back to back as the shadows and horrors of the night surged toward them.

DIES IRAE

He swung his mace, crushing an Earthen's head. The man's helmet was weak. The spikes in Dies Irae's mace punched through it. When he yanked his mace back, it came free with a spurt of blood.

A swordsman attacked at his right—a mere peasant garbed in Earth God green. The man's chipped blade slammed against Dies Irae's plate armor, glancing off with sparks. Dies Irae swung his mace. The man tried to parry, and the mace shattered the blade. Dies Irae smiled and clubbed his head. When the man fell, he swung his mace down, finishing the job.

Pathetic, he thought. These were no warriors. This Silva had brought farmers to fight, their armor weak, their weapons chipped, their bodies fragile. He swung his mace side to side, shattering bones. Their blades could not pierce his armor. Their bodies piled up at his feet.

"Where are you, Lacrimosa?" he said softly. "Where are you, my lizard harlot? You will be mine, Lacrimosa. I will burn your body, and sew your head onto one of my women, and you will warm my bed every night."

He scanned the battlefield, seeking her. She will try to defend King's Column. He turned northward and saw the column rising from smoke and flame and lightning. Yes, she would be there.

Smirking, Dies Irae began cleaving a path through the enemy, clubbing them, tossing them left and right. His mimics fought by him, burly beasts, each with four human heads sewn together at the napes, so they could see in every direction. They swung bloody war hammers, shattering their foes' bones.

They drove through the lines of Earthen, and Dies Irae saw a sight that made him grin. A ring of Earthen surrounded a hill, guarding a makeshift palisade. Behind the palisade, thousands of women and children huddled atop the hill.

"Look at them," Dies Irae said to his mimics, laughing. "Once more, the weredragons bring women and children to fight their wars."

His mimics laughed, spraying blood and drool from their maws.

Dies Irae clenched his fist. "We smashed their women and children at Lanburg Fields. We will crush these Earth God peasants too."

I will join you soon, Lacrimosa. First I will whet my appetite.

He began driving a path toward the hill, grinning savagely. The Earthen seemed desperate. They crashed against him, shouting, thrusting their spears like madmen. They fell fast. For every mimic they slew, they lost three men. Dies Irae grinned as he clubbed at them, breaking knees, ribs, arms, heads.

He reached the palisade, a frail wall of thin logs, and clubbed it with his mace.

"Tear it down!" he shouted. "Tear down the wall."

His mimics attacked the logs with their war hammers. Within moments, they had breached the palisade. Earthen soldiers crashed against them, howling, torching and cutting them. Mimics fell blazing. The women and children on the hilltop screamed, sobbed, and held one another.

Mimic bodies piled up at the breach in the palisade, smoking. Weaklings, Dies Irae thought in disgust. He stepped over their bodies, the smoke rising around him, stinging his eye and filling his lungs. Laughing, he swung his mace at the Earthen who attacked him. Their blades sparked against his armor. He drove forward, mace swinging, and crossed the palisade.

"Mimics, after me!" he bellowed and pointed his mace at the hilltop. "Kill them all."

The women and children screamed.

Roaring, his mimics stormed through the palisade behind him, clashing against the Earthen soldiers. Dies Irae drove forward. The women and children were trying to flee, but the hill was too crowded, and the palisade locked them in. They fell and cried and shouted. Dies Irae laughed. They doomed themselves.

He tore through the last line of soldiers, and saw the women and children fleeing. He ran forward, grabbed a child by the hair, and pulled it around. The young girl stared at him with huge, teary eyes. Dies Irae clubbed her head and kicked her body aside.

Her mother knelt and wept over her, and Dies Irae slammed his mace into her skull. The others fled, trampling over one another, a mad rout. Dies Irae grinned and moved between them, swinging his mace. They didn't even