Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,298

from his armpit, trickling over his armor.

"Knock him down!" Agnus Dei screamed and swung her sword into his helmet.

Dies Irae swung his mace at Kyrie, but missed. Kyrie hacked at his helmet too, and kicked, and Dies Irae fell onto his back. His blood darkened the snow.

Wet, gurgling laughter came from his helmet. "Yes, weredragons, fight me. I like it when you fight me."

Kyrie placed his foot against Dies Irae's chest, holding him down. He slammed his sword against the beak visor, knocking it open.

Bloody stars.

Kyrie froze, nausea filling him. For a moment, he could not move.

Moons ago, Benedictus had taken Dies Irae's left eye in battle. Today Dies Irae wore a new eye, sewn into his face with bloody stitches. It was the eye of a horse, three times the size of his right eye. It spun madly. Blood poured down his forehead, seeping into it.

"Stars," Kyrie whispered. "What have you done to yourself?"

Dies Irae opened his mouth and cackled. His human teeth were gone. Instead, wolf teeth were screwed into his rotting, bleeding gums.

"I am strong now," Dies Irae said, blood bubbling in his mouth. "I am mimic. I will live forever. I am too strong for you to kill."

He struggled to rise, but Kyrie kept his boot pressed against his breastplate. Agnus Dei stepped on his mace, pinning it down. Roaring, she ripped off his helmet and tossed it aside. Kyrie placed the tip of his sword against Dies Irae's neck.

"Call off your troops," he said.

He laughed, spraying blood. "Weredragon, you—"

"Call off your troops!" Kyrie shouted, pushing down his blade enough to tear the skin. A bead of blood trickled down Dies Irae's neck.

Dies Irae laughed and coughed. His chest rose and fell. "Mimics!" he shouted. "You heard the weredragon. Place down your arms. This is between the weredragons and me now."

The mimics grunted, howled, but obeyed. They tossed their weapons into the snow. The blades clanked against one another. The Earthen paused too from battle, panting, their cloaks red and black with blood.

Kyrie stared down at this man, this beast, this wretched creature who bled and cackled. He's no longer a man, he thought. He stopped being a man moons ago, maybe years ago.

"Agnus Dei, go to Lacrimosa," he said, never removing his eyes from Dies Irae.

Agnus Dei ran to her mother, knelt, and cradled her in her arms. She cried to the sky, a wail so heartbroken, that Kyrie knew that Lacrimosa was dead.

He tightened his fingers around the hilt of his sword, keeping the blade pressed against Dies Irae's throat.

"You killed her," he said. "You killed so many. Why, Irae? Why?"

The creature cackled, his horse eye spinning wildly. Blood dripped down his teeth. "You...," he said, coughed, and laughed. "You are weredragon. You infested this world. You will die. You will be my mimics. You will be my slaves."

He tried to rise, but Kyrie held him down, his boot against the creature's breastplate. Agnus Dei cried and howled behind him. Kyrie realized that the entire battle had paused; the armies watched from a distance, smoke rising between them. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Terra and Memoria had joined the hill. They knelt by Agnus Dei in human forms, watching him.

"No, Irae," Kyrie said softly to the creature below him. "No. You failed. You murdered so many. You destroyed so much. But you failed. It has already ended for you."

The creature laughed, spitting blood. Maggots squirmed in his mouth. "Try to kill me, weredragon. You cannot. You are a lizard. You are weak." He coughed.

Kyrie shook his head, and suddenly his eyes stung, and he could see Benedictus again, hear the man's voice, feel his spirit with him.

"No, I will not kill you," he said. "King Benedictus wanted to put you on trial. He wanted the world to know your sins. I will not give you the honor of dying in battle." His took a deep breath. "I will honor his wishes. Dies Irae, you will live today, and you will watch Requiem be reborn, and you will stand trial in her halls. If you are found guilty of your crimes, you will spend your life as our prisoner, and rot in a cell as our nation blooms."

Agnus Dei raised her head, her eyes red.

"Yes," she whispered, holding her mother's body. "He will stand trial."

Terra and Memoria held each other, covered in blood and ash, their eyes huge and haunted. Fires burned behind them, and they both nodded. Yes, their eyes