Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,53

own; Dies Irae knew better.

Does Gloriae know? Dies Irae thought in sudden fear. Does she know the truth, know that Agnus Dei is her sister, that Lacrimosa is her mother? He stared at his daughter, seeking the answer in her eyes, and saw only steel. No, Gloriae did not know. That was good. Dies Irae loved her more than anything; he would shield this horrible truth from her. If she knew, it would crush her.

Agnus Dei, he thought, staring at his iron fist. The cursed, monstrous twin. You I will not kill, no. You will serve as my mount, daughter. You are fairer even than Volucris, the king of griffins. I will ride the last living weredragon, conqueror of the race.

Dies Irae turned and walked away. He carefully avoided the blood on the cobblestones; his boots were priceless, those boots made from the golden scales of a Vir Requis child. Two of his men stepped forward, eyes lowered, and placed his samite robe around his shoulders.

"Come, Gloriae," Dies Irae said. He walked down a crumbling staircase, past saluting soldiers, weedy walls, and tethered griffins. "We have lingered in this fort long enough. We resume the hunt."

He was surprised to find a smile still on his lips, twitching, and his gut felt like ants raced through it. Dies Irae prided himself on controlling his emotions, but this chase thrilled him.

I destroyed the weredragons who shunned me. I killed the father who disowned me. But you, Benedictus... you are the one who stole my throne, who took my arm, who turned Father against me. Now, finally, I will hurt you like you hurt me. Now I will punish you for what you did.

Dies Irae clenched his good fist. Fury flooded him, turning the world red, and he licked his lips. When the fire burned inside him, that was when he felt alive. This was what he lived for.

Because fire and anger, whispered a voice inside him, are better than pain. Hatred was better than fear. Dies Irae hated the pain that surfaced at nights, hated the nightmares that haunted him. All the statues, all the women, all the gold in the world could not drive that pain away, the shunned child inside him. But anger could. Hatred could.

I am no longer a frightened, lonely boy, an outcast, a freak. You are the freak now, Benedictus. You are the outcast, and you now cower. You fear like I have feared. I am a terror and light to the world. You will see this, Benedictus.

The passion blinded him. Dies Irae barely noticed time pass. He found himself on his griffin, taking flight from the stables, soaring into the sky. Gloriae flew behind him, and behind her flew a hundred more armored riders upon a hundred griffins. The fort disappeared in the distance, and cold wind slapped Dies Irae's face. He lowered the visor of his helmet, the visor shaped as a beak, and reached around his neck to clutch the golden amulet. When he remembered how he'd taken the Griffin Heart, Dies Irae felt a heady mix of fear, joy, and power. He snarled.

They flew for a long time.

They flew over forests of oaks and mist, and over fields of wheat and barley, and over lakes. They flew over farms where peasants labored and fields where shepherds roamed. A beautiful land, Dies Irae thought. My land. They flew over cities of stone towers, statues, murals, and Sun God temples. They flew over toppled cities too, now only ruins covered with moss and ash, piles of shattered columns and burned trees. Dies Irae smiled when he saw them; they were the most beautiful sight in this land. Here were the ruins of weredragon cities, great cemeteries to his enemy. He would let them lie forever ruined, a reminder of the weredragons' evil and his conquest of it.

"The weredragons will be lost to memory," Lord Molok had said to him once, on a day they burned a weredragon town and cleansed it of the beasts. The man's black eyes had burned.

Dies Irae had shaken his head and stared at the thousands of weredragon bodies littering the ruins. "No. I want all to remember the weredragons. History must remember their evil, and remember it was we, men of light, who defeated them."

That had been years ago, and still those ruins remained. Still weredragon bones lay among them.

"Look what you did, Benedictus," Dies Irae whispered as they flew over the ruins of Requiem. His griffin heard him and