Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,228

He was a father to her then. She drew her thin sword, and stabbed the child, and stared at the blood with dry eyes. She was six years old.

Gloriae looked back at the ruins of Draco Murus. Her sister was chasing Kyrie, yelling at him for getting ash in her hair. Lacrimosa was trying to stop the girl, but it was like trying to stop a charging mare. Gloriae wanted to smile. She wanted to run too, to laugh, to play. But... those were fragile emotions, weren't they? Emotions regular people felt. Not warriors of ice. Not maidens of steel.

If I smile, if I laugh, if I love... I am human. I am guilty. My hands are bloody.

She stared. She kept her face still. She had to remain this warrior of steel; warriors did not feel pain, guilt, or shame.

"I must remain Gloriae the Gilded," she whispered to herself. "Hard as steel, ruthless as my blade. I will allow no weakness. I will not allow those child's eyes to haunt me. Dies Irae raised me a killer; to change would hurt too much, confess too much blood. I will remain what he made me. But I will not kill more Vir Requis." She turned to look east, toward the distant lands where Dies Irae ruled. "I will kill you, Irae. You made me a killer, and this killer will be your death."

"Gloriae! Gloriae, have you found the last ones?"

Lacrimosa was waving from the ruins, calling her. Gloriae stared back, hand on the hilt of her sword, and nodded.

Stay strong, she told herself. Even if she is your mother. Even if you love her. Love leads to joy, to memory, to guilt... and then pain.

"I found them," she called back. She walked uphill, the Animating Stones in her pack, and joined the others in the ruins.

They brushed off a few ashy cobblestones and placed their Animating Stones there. Gloriae counted them. A hundred shone and trembled at her feet. What ash blew toward them formed strands like snakes, which writhed until the wind blew them away. The cobblestones beneath them trembled.

Kyrie stared down at the Animating Stones and shuddered. "Nasty things, they are. Black magic."

Gloriae looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Black magic, Kyrie? According to our book, they created early life in this world. Death and life are closely linked; they are sides of the same coin. Or stone, in our case. Don't judge so quickly what is evil and what is good."

She stared back to the stones, and wondered: Am I talking of this magic, or of myself?

Lacrimosa lifted one stone and held it to the light. It glimmered. "If we create life with them, will our creations serve us? Or will their loyalties still lie with Dies Irae?"

Gloriae remembered her days at Flammis Palace, serving the man she thought of as Father. Hunting for him. Killing for him.

She put her hand on Lacrimosa's shoulder and stared into her eyes. "Whatever beings we animate—they will not serve him. He animated creatures from dead soldiers who feared him; their loyalties continued in their mimicry of life. But we will animate the stones of Requiem. Our creations will fight for us." She nodded. "Broken statues cover this land. Let us find what statues are still whole, even if ash and dirt cover them. They will be Requiem's new soldiers."

Lacrimosa nodded. "King's Forest lies several leagues north, nestling the ruins of our palace. We will find statues there. Most will be smashed, but we might be lucky and find some whole. Kyrie. Agnus Dei. You two travel there, and take fifty Animating Stones with you. Raise us soldiers of stone. Gloriae, you will travel with me south, where our old temples once stood. We might find more statues among their ruins."

Gloriae nodded. "When Dies Irae returns with more mimics, and he will, he will find us ready this time. I hope he himself leads the next charge." She drew her sword and raised it. The light of Animating Stones painted it red. "If he does, he will meet this blade."

They collected the Animating Stones into packs, and with quick embraces, they parted. Gloriae and her mother began walking down the southern mountainside. Her sister and Kyrie disappeared down the other way.

For a long time, daughter and mother walked in silence.

They walked across valleys strewn with shattered blades, arrowheads, and cloven helmets. They moved through forests of charred trees, skeletons, and fallen columns. Silently, they passed by mass graves, where the wind