mimic. When he reached into his quiver for more, he found it empty.
"Great," he muttered. He dropped his bow and grabbed two torches, one in each hand.
"Kyrie!" Gloriae shouted from somewhere across the courtyard. "Kyrie, we need you! Twenty mimics broke in."
Kyrie looked at Lacrimosa. She stood at the breached ring, swinging her torch, holding back four rotting bodies.
"Go to them!" the queen shouted. "I'll hold these ones back. Help the girls!"
Kyrie cursed. He didn't want to abandon Lacrimosa, but the twins needed him. His hand throbbing, dread twisting his gut, Kyrie ran east across the courtyard. The twins were fighting back to back, swinging torches and thrusting javelins. Blood dripped down Agnus Dei's thigh and Gloriae's left arm. A score of mimics surrounded them.
Swinging his torches, Kyrie leaped into the battle. He clubbed one mimic's head, then another. The creatures howled and burned. One swung a sword. The blade whooshed, and Kyrie ducked. The blow glanced off his helmet and rang in his ears, dazing him. Kyrie managed to thrust his torch, striking the mimic's chest. It fell back, and Kyrie chased it, swung his torch, and burned it until it fell.
Two more mimics slammed into him, and Kyrie hit the cobblestones. The breath was knocked out of him, and claws slashed his chest. Pain blazed, and he couldn't breathe. All he could see was darkness and fire. Teeth bit his arm.
No. Don't die now. Not yet. Benedictus would not give up so easily. Kyrie couldn't allow himself to do any less. He shoved himself to his feet, though the world spun, and lashed his torches. Sparks flew in curtains. Kyrie screamed, and the mimics fell back.
Blood trickled down his chest, and the night blurred. He didn't know how long he fought. Dimly, he was aware of the twins tossing flaming javelins, pushing mimics back. He saw Lacrimosa swinging a torch in each hand. Deformed, stitched bodies burned and fell around him.
It seemed ages before the mimics stopped charging. Kyrie lowered his torches, panting, ready to collapse. Piles of burning bodies rose around him, raising black smoke. The stench was so heavy, Kyrie could barely breathe.
He looked around. The twins stood side by side, covered in ash, blood, and mimic drool. Lacrimosa approached them, helmet dented and clothes charred, fire-tipped javelins in her hands. The Vir Requis moved to stand back to back, looking around cautiously.
"Are they all dead?" Agnus Dei said, voice hoarse.
Kyrie narrowed his eyes. The fires still crackled and shadows danced; it was hard to see. But no mimics stirred. Their bodies burned, unmoving, across the ruins and mountainsides.
"They're all dead," Kyrie said. "We—"
A howl shook the ruins.
A figure stepped through the orphaned archway, seven feet tall. It unfurled its arms; each was grotesquely long, sewn together from three normal arms. It held a sword in each hand. It grinned at them, baring wolf fangs.
"Not all dead," the chief mimic said and approached them, brandishing its blades.
Agnus Dei charged forward first, swinging her torch and screaming.
The mimic swung one link of arms, hit her helmet with its blade, and knocked her down.
"Agnus Dei!" Kyrie screamed and ran toward the mimic. Gloriae and Lacrimosa ran with him, swinging their torches.
The mimic's arms shot out. Kyrie ducked, and an arm swung over his head. Gloriae screamed. The mimic laughed. Lacrimosa ran and drove her torch forward, but the mimic's blade halved it. The top half, still aflame, landed at Kyrie's feet.
He kicked it, and it hit the mimic. Kyrie held his breath... but the creature didn't catch fire. Instead it lumbered toward him, swinging its blades.
Kyrie leaped back and raised his arms, protecting his face. A blade hit his vambrace and sparked.
"Agnus Dei!" he shouted. She was struggling to rise, blinking. Kyrie grabbed her and hoisted her up.
"Careful, Kyrie!" she shouted and pulled him back. The mimic was laughing, and its blades swung inches from Kyrie's face.
A scream of rage tore the air. Gloriae was charging, a lit javelin in hand. She drove the javelin into the mimic's back. The tip burst from its chest, still burning.
Kyrie gasped. Would it finally die?
No. Its torso did not catch fire. It turned to stare at Gloriae and laughed. Drool dripped down its chin. Maggots covered the javelin that thrust out from its chest.
"Gloriae," it said, voice guttural. Worms squirmed between its teeth. "Your father seeks you."
It swung its blades at her.
Gloriae ducked, drew her sword with a hiss, and parried. She swung her blade and severed one of the creature's