BENEDICTUS
Benedictus flew as fast as he could, cursing, fear an iceberg in his gut.
"Lacrimosa!" he howled, voice hoarse. "Lacrimosa!"
He could see nothing but blackness, and the rain and wind whipped him. He blew fire, but could not see Dies Irae ahead. Benedictus cursed his brother, and cursed himself for sparing Dies Irae that day, for biting off an arm but not finishing the job. I spared your life, brother. I let you live then. I will not let you live today.
"Lacrimosa!"
He heard Volucris's shriek ahead, and Benedictus narrowed his eyes and flew in that direction. Damn this torn wing. In the old days, he could fly faster than any griffin, but now he lagged behind. Where was Kyrie? Had he survived? Where was Agnus Dei?
Benedictus blew fire again, and it glinted against red scales half a league ahead. Agnus Dei! Benedictus flew toward her, his wings churning the clouds. Darkness cloaked her, and he blew fire again, saw the red glint again.
"Agnus Dei!"
Soon she was only feet away, and Benedictus felt his heart tighten. She was hurt. Her wings flapped weakly, and her head lolled. She barely stayed in the sky. Blood trickled down her neck.
His fire died in his mouth, and Benedictus could see nothing again. He grabbed Agnus Dei in the darkness.
"Get out of here," he said. "You're hurt. Fly back. Find Kyrie. He was hit."
She shook her head, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "Mother!" she whispered, tears in her eyes. Her voice was hoarse, heavy, thick with the pain of ilbane. When lightning flashed, Benedictus saw that her eyes were glazed. "Mother is ahead, I have to save her, I have to...." Her voice died, drowning in pain.
"I'll save Mother," Benedictus said, pulling Agnus Dei to the ground. She was too weak to resist, and Benedictus knew he must hurry. Every second he lingered here, Dies Irae was flying farther away. He reached the ground and laid Agnus Dei on the grass. He blew fire, lighting the world, and examined her wound. It was not lethal, but the ilbane would hurt for hours. With a quick tug, he removed the quarrel that had pierced her. Her blood dripped.
"Find the salvanae," he said to her. "Fly west and find them with Kyrie. I'll go after Mother."
Her eyes stared at him, pleading. "I want to go with you. Let's hunt Dies Irae together, we'll save Mother—"
"No!" Benedictus rose to fly again. "Find the salvanae; that's what I need you to do. Fly west. With Kyrie. Fly as far as you can—to the end of the world. That is your mission now."
With that Benedictus took off, leaving her below, heading into the eastern sky. Clouds and rain and wind lashed him. There were no salvanae, of course. Dragons with no human form? That was a myth. A bedtime story. But it was a myth that would send Agnus Dei and Kyrie flying west, far from Dies Irae, far from all this war and blood. If there was safety for them, it lay in the distant lands where perhaps Dies Irae's arm could not reach.
I might never see them again, Benedictus thought as he flew. But maybe that's safest for them. I put my daughter in danger. I put Kyrie in danger. May they fly far, and fly well, and may they find safety on their quest.
Where was Dies Irae? Benedictus could not see the man nor his griffin, could no longer hear griffin shrieks. But he knew where Dies Irae headed. He was taking Lacrimosa to Confutatis, to chain her, to torture her, to lure him—Benedictus—into danger. It's me you want, Dies Irae. It's me you'll get. We'll face each other again in battle, and this time, one of us will die.
As Benedictus flew, piercing the night, a chill ran through him. He knew that he most likely flew toward his death.
Fly west, Agnus Dei. Fly west with Kyrie. You two are the last hope for our race.
Benedictus howled in the night.