KYRIE ELEISON
"Benedictus," Kyrie said, "you can't go back to your hut."
Benedictus stopped walking.
Slow as sunset, he turned to face Kyrie. His face seemed harder than a mountainside, and his eyes burned. Words left his mouth slowly.
"Why not?"
Kyrie took a deep breath. His fingers tingled. He knew he had to tell Benedictus the truth, but he was afraid. What would Benedictus do to him? Would he beat him? Kill him, even? He took another deep breath, then spoke with a wince.
"I let one get away, Benedictus. I'm sorry. Dies Irae will know we're here. He might be on his way already."
Kyrie had expected Benedictus to be angry. The fury that suffused the man's face, however, still managed to surprise him. Benedictus's lips peeled back from his teeth. It was a wolf's snarl. He stomped toward Kyrie, eyes blazing. Kyrie tried to flee, but Benedictus caught his shoulders and shook him.
"You... did... what?" Benedictus demanded.
Kyrie lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, Benedictus. I know I should have killed her. I wanted to. But... she's only a girl. I hesitated, and she escaped me. I was stupid. I realize now that she probably flew for reinforcements. I should have killed her right away, but I couldn't, Benedictus. I couldn't."
Benedictus seemed ready to howl and beat him, but then his eyes narrowed. He sucked in his breath. "Who, Kyrie? Who couldn't you kill?"
At the memory of those green eyes and golden locks, Kyrie shuddered. "Gloriae. Dies Irae's daughter."
Benedictus's fingers dug into Kyrie's shoulders. "Gloriae? You saw her? She lives? Did you wound her?"
What was going on? Kyrie felt dizzy. Benedictus seemed almost concerned about Gloriae, but that was impossible. "Yes, I saw her. I wounded her, but she's alive. I... what's wrong, Benedictus?"
The man was suddenly pale. He released Kyrie and turned aside. For a long moment, Benedictus stared away from Kyrie, silent. Finally he spoke again. "Don't worry about it, kid. You did fine. But she'll be back here before long, and Dies Irae will fly with her. We pack our things. We go."
Kyrie rubbed his shoulders where Benedictus had grabbed him. "Go where?"
Benedictus lowered his head. "I don't know. But we can't stay here. This forest is no longer safe. We leave tonight."
"Tonight?" Kyrie remembered Gloriae's boot on his neck, choking him, and the bite of her sword. He shook his head. "Gloriae might be back by then. Let's leave now! We can... we can go to Gilnor's swamps in the south and hide there. Or we can travel to Salvandos in the west; few griffins venture that far. Wherever we go, we have to leave now."
Benedictus said nothing for a long moment. Finally he sighed and said, "I have nothing of value in my hut. A hammer and axe. A few bowstrings and arrows. Nothing more. But there is a treasure I must save from this forest. I go there tonight. We leave at midnight." He lifted a fallen branch and tossed it at Kyrie, who caught it. "Start building a fire. We'll hide half a league from it. If griffins arrive, they'll head to the smoke, and we'll see them."
As Kyrie built the fire, he tried to ask Benedictus more questions. A treasure? Something to save tonight? What was the man talking about? And why, for stars' sake, did he seem so concerned about Gloriae's well being? But Benedictus only stood silently, staring into the forest, until the fire burned. They left the flames between stones, and walked north through the forest. Sunset began to toss shadows.
"Where are we going?" Kyrie said.
Benedictus grumbled. "You talk too much, kid."
They walked for a long time through the darkness. It began to rain, and soon Kyrie was soaked and shivering. It was a cold night, starless, and Kyrie imagined that he could hear griffins in every gust of wind. How Benedictus could navigate in this darkness, Kyrie didn't know. He tried to ask more questions, but heard only growls in reply.
Finally Benedictus stopped by an oak tree. He said to Kyrie, "Wait here."
"Wait for what?" Kyrie said. His teeth chattered, and raindrops dripped down his nose.
But Benedictus did not answer. He walked past the oak, disappearing into darkness. Just then the clouds parted, the rain stopped, and the stars shone. Kyrie saw that they had reached the crater. He remembered. This was where he'd first seen Benedictus shift. Starlight fell upon the clearing. It seemed to Kyrie like a holy place, almost like the old courts of Requiem. The crickets fell silent and the wind died.
Kyrie stared, silent, and saw Benedictus walk to the center of the crater. The moonlight limned his form. As Kyrie watched, a woman stepped into the crater and stood before Benedictus.
Kyrie froze.
A woman?
Silent, hidden between the oak leaves, Kyrie stared. His breath caught. The woman was beautiful, the most enchanting creature he'd ever seen. His body tingled to view her. Mirum had been beautiful too, but in an earthy way, a beauty of sand and salt. This woman's beauty was ethereal, a beauty of starlight and magic. Her hair was long and fine, a blond so pale it was almost silvery. Her skin was milky, and she was tall and slender, clad in white silk. Kyrie gaped.
"Lacrimosa," Benedictus said to her. His voice was softer than Kyrie had ever heard it. "You shouldn't have come."
Lacrimosa smiled sadly. "You say that every new moon, yet every new moon I'm here." Her voice was soft and high. If moonlight could speak, Kyrie thought, it would sound like her.
"It's dangerous," Benedictus said and held her hands.
Lacrimosa nodded. "You say this every new moon too, yet I still live."
She took a step back, releasing Benedictus's hands, and shifted.
Kyrie gasped. She was Vir Requis! Like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon, she grew white wings, silvery scales, and a slender tail. Soon she stood as a dragon, tall and lithe, glistening in the stars.
A third living Vir Requis! Kyrie watched, eyes moist, as Benedictus too turned into a dragon, the great black dragon, chest scarred. The two dragons, the black and the silver, flew through the night as in a dance. They coiled under the stars, whispering to each other, a dance of sad beauty. Kyrie could no longer hear their words, but their dance spoke of old love and lost dreams.
Finally the dragons landed, one woven of darkness, the other of starlight. In the crater under the stars, they shifted back into human form: one man gruff and dark, one woman pale and glowing. They began walking toward the trees, toward Kyrie. He could only gape, awed.
"Close your mouth, kid," Benedictus said when he reached Kyrie. "A griffin might fly into it." He turned to the woman. "Lacrimosa, meet the kid I told you about."
Not sure how to react, Kyrie knelt before Lacrimosa. He tried to kiss her hand, but stumbled in the mud and fell. He pushed himself to his feet, stammering apologies, and tried to introduce himself.
"My lady! I'm Kyrie Eleison. It's good to meet you, my lady. How are you? I mean... I hope you are well. Are you?"
He realized how he sounded, winced, and cursed himself silently. But Lacrimosa seemed not to mind. She smiled, her teeth white, a smile that filled Kyrie with peace and angelic warmth.
"Hello, Kyrie," she said. "I'm Lacrimosa. I'm so happy to meet you."
Her eyes were large and lavender, and Kyrie was surprised to see tears fill them.
The three Vir Requis walked together, silent in the darkness. Kyrie had so many questions. He felt as if ants raced inside him. Who was Lacrimosa? Where had she been hiding? Were there even more Vir Requis survivors? Kyrie ached to ask, but something about the night's silence seemed holy. He dared not break it. Fireflies emerged to dance lazily like tiny dragons, as if they came to witness a sacred night, a night that would forever change Kyrie's life and his people's fate.
Kyrie noticed that more light glowed. Not the starlight, nor the light of fireflies, but a red, flickering light. He stopped in his tracks, and his nostrils flared.
"Smoke," he said.
Lacrimosa's eyes widened. "Fire," she whispered.
Kyrie stiffened. Yes, fire; he could smell it. Suddenly a crackle rose, and the trees ahead burst into flame. Sparks flew like the fireflies. Memories flooded Kyrie. He could almost see them in the darkness: the burning of Requiem, and the flames of war upon Lanburg Fields.
"Run!" Kyrie said. He turned and began fleeing the fire. Benedictus and Lacrimosa ran beside him. The flames roared behind, and smoke filled Kyrie's mouth. The heat burned his back.
"I should have killed Gloriae," he said as he ran, eyes stinging. "I should never have let her flee. It's my fault." Tears filled his eyes.
He saw the griffins before he heard them. He looked up and they filled the sky. There were hundreds.
Kyrie jumped and shifted. "Fly!" he shouted as he grew a tail and scales, as his wings sprouted and flapped. He crashed through the canopy, branches snapping against his scales. "Benedictus, Lacrimosa, fly!"
With light and fury, they flew.
They flew as griffins followed. They flew as arrows fired through the night, aflame, whistling comets in the darkness. They flew as the trees burned, as flames howled, as smoke blinded them. Into the darkness they fled, crying in the night. Below them the forests burned, and all around them griffins filled the skies.
"Benedictus!" Kyrie cried. Three griffins fell upon Black Fang, and Kyrie shot forward, screaming, and knocked them off. He turned to fight them, to claw and bite and burn, but Benedictus growled at him.
"We do not fight tonight. Fly!"
The three Vir Requis kept flying. Kyrie could barely see, and the night swirled around him, smoke and flame stinging his eyes. Stars spun and flaming arrows whistled. One clanked against his scales. A griffin talon hit him, tossing him into a spin, and he howled, lashed his tail, and hit something. He flapped his wings. He kept fleeing. Where were Benedictus and Lacrimosa? He couldn't see them.
"Fly east!" he shouted. "Fly to the sea!"
Had they heard him? Did they still live? Kyrie could barely see for the smoke and fire, and ten griffins flew toward him. Kyrie flew, spun, swooped to the treetops, shot up again. A griffin slashed Kyrie's leg, and a flaming arrow slammed against his scales. He grunted.
A cry rose over the thud of wings and roaring flames, a cry of pain and terror. Lacrimosa! Kyrie flew toward the sound, eyes narrowed in the smoke, knocking griffins aside. He saw Gloriae upon her griffin, clad in her gilded armor, driving a lance toward Lacrimosa. The lance glinted red in the firelight and hit Lacrimosa's shoulder, drawing blood.
"No!" Kyrie cried.
"Gloriae!" Lacrimosa called out, eyes narrowed, voice nearly lost beneath the roar of griffins and fire. "I—" Griffins shrieked and fires blazed, drowning her words. "—your mother!"
Gloriae seemed ready to attack again. She drew back her lance, but hesitated. Before she could recover, Kyrie flew toward her, clawed her griffin, and it pulled back howling. More griffins flew toward them, and Benedictus too joined the fray, biting and clawing. Kyrie looked around wildly, searching for Gloriae, but the girl was gone.
"Lacrimosa!" Benedictus said, eyes burning, smoke rising from his nostrils. She leaned against him, bloody, barely able to fly.
"Fly, get out of here!" Kyrie shouted, spreading his wings wide. A hundred more griffins came shooting toward them, their riders firing arrows. "I'll hold them off. Benedictus, get her to safety."
Benedictus paused. "Ky—"
"GO!" Kyrie shouted and blew flames at a hundred storming griffins. Behind him he heard dragon wings thud. Benedictus flew off, holding Lacrimosa.
Kyrie hovered in midair, eyes narrowed, wings churning the smoke. The hundred griffins would be upon him in seconds. Kyrie snarled.
"Come on, you bastards," he hissed. "Let's see what you've got."
He knew he would die. He was ready. He would hold them back. He would let Benedictus and Lacrimosa flee. She could be the last female of their race, the last hope of Requiem. He would not let her die.
"Come on!" he shouted to the griffins, hoarse, and rose higher into the air, shooting flames.
And they were upon him.
Kyrie fought like he had never fought, and he flew like had never flown. Like a comet he shot through the sky, spinning, falling, shooting up, rising from flame. He shot fire and the griffins burned. He bit, clawed, fled and charged. Talons lashed at him, beaks bit, and Kyrie roared with fury even as his blood fell.
"You will not reach them," he cried. "You will not touch them."
There were a hundred, and more were joining them. How long did he hold them off? Was it only a minute? Was it an hour? Kyrie did not know. It was a timeless eternity. But he held them off. He let Lacrimosa flee. With fang and claw and fire, he held them.
And then, with a roar that rocked the night, with a blast of flame that blinded Kyrie, the Black Fang charged into the ranks of griffins, scattering them.
"Get out of here, kid," Benedictus growled, glaring at Kyrie.
"Not without you!" Kyrie slashed at three griffins and knocked a fourth back with his tail.
"I'm right behind you, kid. Now fly!"
They turned to flee, the griffins screeching behind. Benedictus was wounded, Kyrie saw. Blood covered his left leg, and three arrows stuck out from his back. He wobbled as he flew with his torn wing.
"Where's Lacrimosa?" Kyrie shouted as they flew, the burning arrows zooming around them.
"She's safe." An arrow glanced off Benedictus's scales. He grunted. "Follow me."
They turned east. The sea spread out beyond the forest, a sheet of black in the night. Benedictus flew toward it, wobbly, and Kyrie followed. The griffins shrieked behind. The trees burned below.
When the sea was beneath them, Benedictus swooped and crashed into the water, disappearing into the depths. Kyrie took a deep breath and followed. The water so cold, he grunted. The salt stung his wounds. He forced his eyes open, though they stung too, and saw Benedictus swimming in the darkness. Kyrie could barely make out the great dragon; he only glimpsed glints on black scales. He heard several griffins dive into the water, and Kyrie swam as fast as he could. In the darkness, he felt fish and seaweed slap him.
Where was Benedictus? Kyrie could barely see. The world was but murky ink. Wait. There! Kyrie saw a tail. Benedictus seemed to swim into an underwater cave, and Kyrie followed.
Worry gnawed him. As a dragon, he had large lungs, but he'd been swimming for a while now. He couldn't hold his breath much longer. He swam through an underwater tunnel, seeing nothing but darkness. He felt stone walls against his sides, smooth, brushing against him. Where was Benedictus going? How had he found this underwater place?
A shriek shook the water behind him. A griffin. Kyrie slapped his tail, and it hit a griffin's head. He slapped his tail again, knocking it against the wall. It seemed to fall; he no longer heard it, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw only black.
Kyrie's lungs screamed. If he didn't breathe soon, this mad flight would have been for nothing; he'd die here underwater. Damn, Kyrie thought. Benedictus had led them to a watery death. Stars floated before Kyrie's eyes, and his limbs ached. His head spun.
The tunnel opened up, and Kyrie found himself in open water again. Not looking for Benedictus, not caring if griffins still followed, Kyrie shot straight up. He thought he saw starlight above, but it could have just been the stars in his eyes. How deep was he? He kicked and flapped his tail, shooting up as fast as he could. Was this sea endless?
And then—thank the stars!—he burst onto the surface. Kyrie took a huge breath, a breath that could suck in the world. He savored it. Air had never tasted sweeter. He coughed, breathed ragged breaths, and laughed.
"Benedictus," he called when he could speak again.
The black dragon was coughing beside him, head sticking out of the water. His breath wheezed. "Quiet, kid," he managed. "We might not be out of the woods yet."
"Oh, we're out of the woods all right," Kyrie said. He looked toward the forested shore; it lay half a league away, rising in flame. It was hard to believe they had swum so far. Griffins still fluttered over the trees. More griffins were diving into the waters by the shore, seeking them.
"Let's go," Benedictus said. "Best we swim underwater."
"Where's Lacrimosa?" Kyrie asked.
Benedictus grunted. "I'll take you to her. Follow me."
They dived underwater again and swam, close to the surface, and soon reached an islet. It was only several yards wide, not large enough for dragons. They shifted into human forms and climbed onto the rocky shore.
"Lacrimosa!" Kyrie cried. He saw her there. She lay between the rocks, cradling a bloodied arm. Moonlight glinted on her wet hair, and her eyes were huge and haunted.
"Keep down," Benedictus said. "Keep behind the boulders. And keep your voices low. Griffins have sharp ears. We're not safe yet."
Benedictus tore a strip from his tunic and bound Lacrimosa's wound. He touched her hair, kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear. She embraced him. He held her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Kyrie watched them silently.
"We have to go," Kyrie finally said, glancing nervously back at the griffins. "They'll scan these waters. They'll find us."
Benedictus glared at him. "When Lacrimosa is ready."
Lacrimosa touched Benedictus's shoulder, her eyes soft. "I can swim. Let's go."
They swam in the darkness, remaining in their human forms. They were slower that way, but smaller and harder for griffins to see. When they were far enough, they shifted into dragons again and swam faster, swam all night, until at dawn they climbed onto a distant shore.
They collapsed onto the sand as the sun rose around them. Kyrie had never felt so tired. Everything hurt. Bruises and cuts covered him, his muscles screamed, his lungs burned, and his head pounded. Blood beaded on wounds on his shoulders and left leg. On the sandy beach, he took ragged breaths and fell onto his back, shifting into human form. Dawn rose before him.
Benedictus and Lacrimosa collapsed beside him, also becoming humans. If Kyrie felt so exhausted, he could only imagine how tired Lacrimosa was, being so dainty, or Benedictus with his old wounds. For a long time, they only lay on the shore, watching the dawn. They had not heard griffins in hours, and could see none in the new light. Only gulls fluttered across the skies. No more fire, no more griffins, no more armored riders with flaming arrows.
For a long time, they just lay.
When Kyrie could move again, he sat up and finally saw Lacrimosa in daylight. She looked more beautiful than ever. Her hair was like gossamer, her skin fair, her lips full and her eyes large. Her body was slender and long. Kyrie could not guess her age. She was not young; not young like him, at least. Her eyes were too wise for youth. Neither was she old. No wrinkles marred her face, and her skin looked soft and pure. She seemed ageless. She wore a silver pendant shaped as a bluebell; it glowed purple in the dawn.
A third Vir Requis. A woman. Kyrie had never known, had never dreamed of another....
He turned to look at Benedictus. The gruff man stared back, face inscrutable, eyes dark. Sand filled his rough curls and stubble covered his face, salt and pepper.
Kyrie spoke to him. "Dies Irae will return. He will never stop hunting us."
Benedictus stared back, eyes boring into him. "I know."
Kyrie stood up and stepped toward him. "Fight with me, Benedictus. Help me reclaim the Griffin Heart. Rebuild Requiem with me."
Grunting, Benedictus struggled to his feet. He stood before Kyrie in the sand, glaring. His eyes were so dark, coal black. If Lacrimosa's face was pale silk, Benedictus had a face like beaten leather. For a long time, the man just stared silently.
Finally he spat into the sand, then stared at Kyrie. "Will you fly silently? No whooping or shouting?"
Kyrie nodded.
Benedictus gritted his teeth. "And will you fly straight? No loops? No somersaults? No showing off?"
Kyrie nodded again.
Benedictus took a step toward him, so that he stood so close, he could have reached out and throttled Kyrie. "And will you do exactly as I tell you?"
Kyrie nodded a third time.
Benedictus growled. "Look, kid. I don't like this. I don't like you. But I'm old, and my wing is torn, and I can't fight alone. You learn how to fly fast, you learn how to fly deadly, and you can fly with me. But you obey my orders. No questions, no talking back, no attitude. You show me lip, I'll bash your mouth in. Deal?"
Kyrie reached out his hand. "You got a deal, old man."
Benedictus glared for a moment, as if staring at a rotted carcass on a roadside. Then, with a grunt, he grabbed Kyrie's hand and shook it.