LACRIMOSA
From the distance, Lacrimosa could hear the youths fighting. She could not make out the words—only raised voices, clanking steel, and shouts. She stood up to rush over, to find the young ones and break them up.
Benedictus also stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Let them settle their conflicts," he said, voice soft. The firelight painted his face orange and gold.
Lacrimosa shook her head in frustration. "They're fighting, Ben."
He nodded. "Let them fight. They're young, angry, and strong. All three of them are. They need to clash and lock horns; that's their way. They'll blow off steam, even if they bash one another around a bit."
Lacrimosa sighed. "Maybe you're right. Were you and I ever so young and angry?"
They sat down again by the fire. Lacrimosa leaned against her husband, and Benedictus placed his arm around her. They watched the firelight crackle among the ruins, lighting the smashed statues and burned trees.
"We were that young once, yes," he said. "But you were never angry. You were strong too, and you're strong now. But yours is the strength of water. Kyrie and Agnus Dei are fire. Gloriae is ice."
"And what are you, Ben?" she asked him.
He let out a long, deep sigh and stared into the flames in silence. Finally he said, "I am nothing now but old memories and pain."
She played with his hair, black streaked with gray. "Something weighs heavy on you," she said.
He nodded but said nothing. Lacrimosa wished she could ease his pain; she saw it every day in his eyes. She saw the burning of Requiem there, as she saw it around her. She saw Lanburg Fields, and the mountains of bodies, and all those who'd died under his banners. And she saw new pain there today; he had seen something during the past moon, but Lacrimosa knew he needed time to reflect upon it. Maybe he would never speak of it. She kissed his cheek.
"You are strong, my lord, and brave and noble. You are my husband, my king. You are a hero to the young ones; even to Gloriae."
She ran her fingers across his cheek, his skin rough and stubbly. He pulled her closer to him.
"They would fight even as toddlers, the twins," he said. "Do you remember?"
She smiled. "I do. They would fight over dolls, over candies...." She laughed softly. "Do they fight over Kyrie now?"
"That boy was trouble from day one. Do you know, I spoke to him in Lanburg Fields. I blessed him before the battle." Benedictus sighed. "I thought they had all died, Kyrie too. I thought Gloriae was gone from us forever. I thought Agnus Dei would die under the mountain. We've cheated death for so long, Lacrimosa. How much longer can we flee?"
She took his hands in hers. His hands were so large and rough; hers looked tiny and white atop them.
"We're done fleeing," she said. "The griffins are our allies; they'll fight with us when the time comes. And we'll find the Beams. We'll seal the nightshades and defeat Dies Irae."
"And what then?" he asked. "Even with Irae dead, another will replace him. One of his lieutenants will inherit the throne, and be as cruel, as heartless, as ceaseless as Irae was in hunting us."
A voice came from across the fire.
"No," spoke Gloriae. "I will sit upon the Ivory Throne then."
Lacrimosa saw her daughter step from behind burned trees. The girl's golden hair cascaded across her shoulders, strewn with ash. Her leggings were torn, her boots muddy, her armor's glint dulled. And yet she walked nobly, and her eyes stared with green ice.
"Daughter," Lacrimosa said. "We cannot ask this of you. You belong with us now, here in Requiem."
Gloriae stood by the fire, hand on the hilt of her sword. "I am Vir Requis, yes. My loyalty is now to my true father, King Benedictus. We will rebuild this land. I promise it. And I will not watch an heir to Dies Irae destroy it again. The people of Osanna know me. They have known me for years as Dies Irae's daughter, as second-in-command of their empire. If we kill Dies Irae, they will accept me as their ruler. As empress of Osanna, I will forge peace with Requiem, and help her grow."
Lacrimosa felt a twist in her heart, and she winced. For so many years, Gloriae had lived away from her, a ruler of Osanna in marble palaces. Had she finally reclaimed her daughter only to lose her again? She stood up, walked to Gloriae, and hugged her. At first Gloriae only stood stiffly. Finally, hesitantly, she placed her arms around her mother.
A shriek rose.
Lacrimosa and Gloriae broke apart and drew their blades. Benedictus leaped up, raising his crossbow.
The shriek sounded again.
A nightshade.
"But it's not night yet," Lacrimosa whispered, looking from side to side.
Kyrie and Agnus Dei came running toward them, weapons drawn. Their eyes were wide with fear.
"Behind us!" Agnus Dei cried. "Ten nightshades in the daylight. They saw us." She jumped over a fallen column, shifted into a red dragon, and flew. Kyrie became a blue dragon and took flight beside her.
Lacrimosa touched Gloriae's cheek. "Shift now; you can do it. I'll help you fly."
Soon the five Vir Requis flew as dragons, the ruins far beneath them. When Lacrimosa looked over her shoulder, she saw ten nightshades rise from the ruins like pillars of smoke. The beasts screamed and chased them.
"I thought nightshades only came out at night!" Lacrimosa shouted in the roaring wind.
Gloriae, now a golden dragon, narrowed her eyes and snarled. "Dies Irae changed them—bred them with other beasts, or tortured them to overcome their fear of sunlight."
When Lacrimosa looked again, the nightshades were closer. They swirled, dispersed, collected themselves again, and moved like ink in water. Their eyes glinted and mocked her. Their howls rose, and Lacrimosa realized that she could hear voices in those howls.
"Lacrimosa...," they screeched. "Lacrimosa, return to me...."
She realized it was Dies Irae speaking through them, his voice broken into a million hisses rising together. She shivered.
"Let's see if they still like dragonfire," she said, turned her head, and blew flames at them.
They howled. The other Vir Requis also turned to blow fire, and the flames covered the nightshades.
The nightshades screamed so loudly, what ruins remained standing below collapsed. They emerged from the inferno, teeth drawn, as if the fire only enraged them. The Vir Requis kept flying.
"Into those storm clouds!" Benedictus said, pointing. The clouds were leagues away, a tornado spinning beneath them. Lacrimosa didn't know if they'd reach them in time, but she nodded. They flew, the nightshades screaming behind. Lacrimosa felt them tug at her soul, and she squinted, howled, and blew fire at them.
Kyrie was lagging. His wings stilled, and his eyes rolled back. A nightshade flew behind him, reaching out tendrils of smoke to Kyrie's tail.
Lacrimosa raced toward Kyrie, grabbed him, and shot fire at the nightshade. It screeched, blinded, and Lacrimosa caught Kyrie. She slapped him hard with her wing. He gasped as if jostled from sleep, narrowed his eyes, and flew again.
A nightshade wrapped itself around Benedictus's leg. He roared fire at it, and flapped his wings, but could not free himself. Gloriae raced toward him, and blew fire at the nightshade.
"I am your mistress, Gloriae of Osanna!" she screamed. "You will leave this place."
The nightshades laughed mockingly. The Vir Requis shot more flames, and Benedictus managed to free himself. They kept flying. Lacrimosa tried to blow more fire behind her, to blind to nightshades, but only sparks left her mouth.
"My fire is low!" she shouted. The others seemed in the same predicament. When they blew, only small flames left their mouths. They would need rest and food to rebuild the fires inside them.
"We're almost at the clouds," Benedictus shouted over the wind and screeching nightshades. "We'll lose them in the storm."
With the nightshades shrieking and tugging at them, the Vir Requis shot into the storm.
Rain and wind lashed Lacrimosa. She screamed, but her voice was lost. Lightning flashed. She could barely keep her eyes open. She flapped her wings, but could not move forward. Wind caught her, she spun, righted herself, and strained to keep flying.
"Ben!" she shouted.
She could see him just ahead, and then winds caught him, and he flew backwards and spun. Lightning flashed again. The rain felt like a million daggers. The sound was deafening. Nightshades flew around her, screeching, spinning, tossed around like rags. Lacrimosa saw a flash of golden scales ahead.
"Gloriae!" she called, but heard no answer.
She flapped her wings, snarled, and tried to reach her daughter.
That was when she saw the tornado.
It spun before her, horrible in its sound and fury. It looked to Lacrimosa like a great nightshade, or like the terror in her heart, the pain that ran between her and her countless kin beyond the stars. It spun toward her, and Lacrimosa shut her eyes. She flew in the roar, wings useless, and Lacrimosa saw before her silver harps, and flowers on marble tiles, and sunlight between birches. She floated as on clouds, and a smile found her lips.
"Daughters," she said with a smile, reaching out her arms, and the toddlers ran into her embrace. They laughed, sunlight upon them, clad in silk, flowers in their hair. The marble columns rose around them, and hills of trees bloomed.
Lightning rent the world
Thunder boomed.
She opened her eyes, and saw rain, and saw nightshades screeching and fleeing. Lacrimosa flapped her wings, eyes stinging, the wind and rain and memories crashing against her.
"Lacrimosa!" cried a distance voice, barely audible. A black shape flew toward her, burly, reaching out.
"Ben!" she shouted.
Their claws touched, and then the storm blew them apart. Nightshades swirled around them, dispersing into wisps. The tornado sucked up some of the creatures. Others it tossed aside. Lacrimosa managed to grab Benedictus, and she clung to him. The storm spun them and finally cast them out into a world of soft rain, grumbling thunder, and rainbows.
Lacrimosa looked around her. She saw the tornado a league away, moving westward and away from her. Nightshades spun within it. One nightshade broke free and flew toward her. Lacrimosa and Benedictus blew fire at it, the last flames they could muster. Alone, the nightshade dared not face the firelight. It screeched and fled.
"Where are the young ones?" Lacrimosa shouted. The wind was still roaring.
Benedictus pointed. "I see Kyrie and Agnus Dei."
The blue and red dragon came flying from above. They had flown above the storm, and soon hovered by Benedictus and Agnus Dei.
"Where's Gloriae?" Lacrimosa asked, looking around frantically.
"Gloriae!" Agnus Dei called, also searching.
Lacrimosa flew back toward the storm, seeking golden scales. The others flew around her, also seeking. Few nightshades remained. What nightshades attacked them, they beat back with firelight. The tornado was retreating rapidly, leaving a land of puddles and shattered trees. Was it taking Gloriae with it?
"Gloriae!" Lacrimosa shouted. "Can you hear me?"
She flew, scanning the ruins below, and her eyes caught a glint of gold. She flew closer and gasped. A golden dragon lay upon a burned tree below, legs limp, head tilted back.
"Gloriae!" Lacrimosa called and dived. The other dragons dived with her. Lacrimosa reached Gloriae first. She hovered above her daughter, fear claiming her. Was Gloriae, only recently returned to her, taken from her again?
No. Gloriae was alive. Her left wing moved, and her eyes fluttered.
"Mother," the girl whispered.
Lacrimosa touched her daughter's cheek. "I'm here, Gloriae, I'm here, you're fine now."
Benedictus helped lift Gloriae from the burned tree, and they placed her on the ground.
Gloriae blinked, and her lips opened and closed several times before she could speak. "I fell. I'm... I'm not good at flying."
When Lacrimosa examined her daughter for wounds, she found bruises and scrapes, and an ugly gash along her thigh, but no broken bones. Soon Gloriae was able to stand, gingerly test her limbs, and walk.
Benedictus scanned the skies. "The nightshades are gone for now. But they'll be back soon. Shift into human form, everyone. We'll be harder to spot. Those bastards still hate firelight, but they now tolerate the sun."
They turned human again, and Lacrimosa saw that bruises covered Gloriae, and blood seeped from her thigh. She tried to tend to the wound, but Gloriae held her back, eyes icy.
"I'm fine," the girl said. "I've suffered worse."
Lacrimosa shivered. She knew when Gloriae had suffered worse wounds; it had been when she still served Dies Irae, and Kyrie had gored her with his horn. She shoved the thought aside.
When she turned to the others, she saw that Kyrie too was battered. A bruise was spreading beneath his eye. His lip was fat and cracked. He clutched his side, as if he'd been hurt there too.
"Kyrie, did you also fall?" she asked in concern.
Kyrie glanced at Agnus Dei, who shot him a venomous stare.
"Uh, yeah," Kyrie said, looking away from Agnus Dei. "I also fell."
"Fell onto Agnus Dei's fist, maybe," Benedictus muttered to himself.
Agnus Dei glared at him and clenched those fists. "Did you say something, Father?"
"Yeah," he said, voice gruff. "I said let's go. We walk from here. We go to Osanna, and we seek the tombs of her kings."
They walked through the puddles, mud, and ruins, tattered and bruised, heading into the east.
BENEDICTUS
They travelled off road. The forests of Osanna lay wilted. The trees were white and shrivelled up, like the limbs of snowbeasts. Most had fallen over, spreading white ash across the land.
"There, in the distance," Benedictus said. "Two of them."
The others muttered and lay down, pulled cloaks over them, and lay still. Leafy branches, mud, and thorns covered their cloaks, sewn and fastened with string and pins. Soon the Vir Requis appeared as nothing but mounds of leaf and earth.
The nightshades screeched above. Benedictus lay under his cloak, still, barely daring to breathe. Finally the shrieks disappeared into the distance, and he stood up. The others also stood, looked at one another uneasily, and resumed walking.
"There are more every day," Kyrie said.
Benedictus nodded. "And they're larger, too. Irae is changing them. I don't know how, but he is. He's making them stronger, faster, tougher. Next time they attack, firelight won't daunt them."
Kyrie shuddered. "How is he doing that?"
"I don't know. But I'm hoping he doesn't know about the Beams. They're our last hope."
They continued to walk, not speaking, their boots rustling the dirt and snapping branches. It was their twentieth day of walking since leaving Requiem's ruins.
Twenty days of hiding under cloaks, of seeing the ruin of the world, Benedictus thought. They had seen barely any life. Few animals remained. People were even fewer. Sometimes they saw armored soldiers travelling the roads, even several knights on horseback. Mostly they saw nothing but toppled forts, bodies, and devastation.
Benedictus looked at Lacrimosa. She walked by his side, leaves in her pale hair. Her lavender eyes seemed so large, bottomless pools of sadness. He took her hand.
"I'm sorry," he said to her.
She looked at him. "For what?"
The young ones walked behind, speaking in hushed voices; they could not hear.
"I'm sorry that you must walk like this, Lacrimosa. Wearing leaves and dirt. Eating old rations and whatever skinny beasts we can hunt. You should be wearing silk, and dining on fine foods, and living in a palace."
She laughed softly. "Is that who you think I am? A pampered queen? Ben. I'm your wife. I'm your love, and you are mine. I would walk by you even through the tunnels of the Abyss."
He lowered his head. "You are strong, and brave, and I love you. But I've failed." He looked behind him at his daughters. "I've failed them."
Lacrimosa narrowed her eyes. "You are keeping them alive. You are leading them."
Benedictus looked ahead, to the leagues of rolling ruin, the wilted trees, the toppled walls, the animals that lay rotting on the earth. "I could have killed Dies Irae at Lanburg Fields. I pitied him. I let him live. I could have killed him under the mountain, but I was not strong enough. I'm weak, Lacrimosa. I don't know what strength I still have."
She squeezed his hand. "I know, Ben. We'll do it together. We'll find the Beams. We'll make the world safe for the young ones. I'm with you, now and always."
Benedictus turned to look at the youths.
Agnus Dei walked with a crossbow on one hip, a sword on the other. Her brown eyes were narrowed, forever scanning the world for a fight. Benedictus knew that among the youths, she was the most like him. She had his dark eyes, the black curls of his hair, the fire in her belly. Dies Irae thought she was his, that he had fathered the twins when raping Lacrimosa. When Benedictus looked into Agnus Dei's brown, strong eyes, he knew that was false. He knew she was of his blood.
Next Benedictus looked at Gloriae, and he sighed. Gloriae was twin to Agnus Dei, but she looked more like Lacrimosa. She was light like her mother, of fair hair, of pale skin. But there was none of Lacrimosa's frailty to her. This one was strong like her sister, but her strength was of ice rather than fire, a strength Dies Irae had forged into her. She's still a stranger to me, Benedictus thought. He wanted to earn her love, but she rarely spoke to him, and when she looked upon him, there was no feeling in her eyes, only that ice.
Benedictus then looked at Kyrie, and sighed again. Kyrie walked with muddy clothes, and his shock of yellow hair was unkempt. He held a dagger drawn in each hand. Kyrie Eleison. The son of his fallen lieutenant. The boy Benedictus had sent to die upon Lanburg Fields. But Kyrie was no longer a boy. He was seventeen now, a grown man, a warrior under his banners like Requiem's warriors of old.
"Can I make the world safe for them, Lacrimosa?" he asked.
"I don't know. But you lead them. You inspire them. That is the best you can do for them now. Look, Ben. Beyond those trees. The tombs of Osanna's kings."
Benedictus looked, and saw a valley between the dead trees. The grass was dead, splotchy with patches of snow. The sky was tan and gray. Tombs rose in the valley, the size of temples, hewn of rough bricks, beaten down and smoothed through centuries of rain and snow.
"The Valley of Kings' Glory," Benedictus said. He stopped walking and stared. Years ago, he had visited this place and seen green grass, flowers, and rustling trees. The land was ruined now, but the tombs remained, as they had for millennia. The youths caught up with him, stood at his sides, and stared into the valley. Wind played with their hair.
"A king whose name begins with T," Benedictus said. "His title will end with 'ite'. Our search begins. Let's stay together. Weapons drawn. If the nightshades arrive, hi—"
"Hide in your cloaks, pretend to be mounds of dirt, we know the drill," Agnus Dei said. "You say that once an hour, Father."
They walked into the valley, crossbows and blades in hand. The wind moaned. Snow began to fall, the flakes clinging to their hair and clothes. They approached the closest tomb, a monolith of rough bricks. Large as a castle, it was shaped like a griffin. The griffin's beak had fallen years ago, and now lay at its talons. Those stone talons rose taller than a house, dead grass rustling between them. A stone door stood at the griffin's breast. Letters were engraved into it, filled with gold.
The letters were in Old High Speech, and Benedictus read them out loud. "Here lies King Tenathax the Blessed, Defeater of Gol, Son of Tarax the Red. May the Earth God protect his soul."
Below the golden letters, in smaller words, appeared the story of Tenathax's life, a tale of battles won and temples built.
"Not our guy," Kyrie said. "His name starts the right way, but ends wrong." He scanned the smaller letters. "And it says nothing here about any Beams or Loomers. Just talk of him defeating that Gol place."
Benedictus nodded. "Let's keep looking."
They left the towering griffin of stone, and walked along the valley, until they reached a tomb shaped like a warrior. The stone warrior stood as tall as a palace. Its base alone was thirty feet tall. They found a stone door there too, also engraved with golden letters. Again, Benedictus read aloud.
"Here lies King Tarax the Young, Defeater of Fidelium, son of Talin the White. May the Earth God bless his soul."
Here too did smaller words appear below the main epitaph, telling the story of Tarax defeating the kings of Fidelium, and destroying their temples and palaces, and annexing their realm to Osanna.
Kyrie rolled his eyes. "Every King of Osanna was named Tarax the Something, or Talin the Whatever, son of Taras the Who Cares."
Gloriae spoke softly, cheeks pink in the cold. "All but Dies Irae."
Benedictus pointed at the letters. "Look at our friend King Tarax again. See who his father was? Talin the White. Could that be the king we're looking for?"
Agnus Dei, snow in her hair, unrolled the scroll from Requiem's tunnels. She showed them the passage again.
"In the days of the Night Horrors, King T______ite journeyed to the southern realms of G____nd sought the Loomers o_______olden pools."
Agnus Dei rolled up the scroll again. She nodded. "Talin the White, yes. Father of King Tarax. Let's find his tomb."
They explored the valley for several hours, moving from tomb to tomb. The oldest tombs were shaped as pyramids, their rocks beaten down, their letters almost effaced. Finally they found a tomb labelled "Talin the White". It was one of the simpler tombs. It stood only three stories tall, surrounded by columns engraved with dragons.
Kyrie and Agnus Dei jumped up and down. "Finally."
Benedictus examined the letters engraved into this tomb. "King Talin III, known as the White."
Smaller letters were engraved beneath his name. They all leaned in, and this time, Gloriae read them out loud.
"Born in the year 476. Rose to the throne in 482. Died in the year 489. His reign was peaceful and prosperous."
Gloriae leaned back and raised her eyebrow. "The king who tamed the Nightshades, the hero from the book, was a child? He died in childhood after a peaceful reign? That doesn't make sense."
Kyrie moaned. "Stars. We've been searching this graveyard for hours. I'm tired. Will we find no king to help us?"
Benedictus grunted. "I'm tired too, kid. Let's take a break. We'll eat what food we have."
They camped below Talin III's tomb and unpacked their supplies. They didn't have much. Lacrimosa had found some mushrooms a while back. Agnus Dei had managed to shoot two rabbits. They had pilfered turnips and some ale from a roadside tavern. They shared the food and drink, which left them still hungry and thirsty, and considered.
"We came here for nothing," Kyrie said.
Benedictus shook his head. "No, kid. We just have to go older. We've been exploring the newer tombs."
Kyrie snickered so loudly, a bit of turnip flew from his mouth. He gestured at Talin III's resting place. "New tombs? Benedictus, this is from the year 489. That was...." He counted on his fingers. "2,756 years ago."
Benedictus nodded. "2,766, actually. But our friend here is the third Talin the White. I say we find his father and grandfather."
They stood up, bellies still rumbling with hunger and throats still parched, and kept moving down the valley. Soon they reached tombs so old, they could have been mistaken for hills of scattered rocks. These tombs were mostly buried in the earth, only their roofs showing. Dead grass rustled around them.
Benedictus knelt by a stone roof which rose from earth, grass, and snow. He dug around it, tossing back dirt and snow, until he excavated the top of a doorway.
"Here, look," he said.
Faded letters appeared on the stone door. Unlike the other tombs, no gold covered these letters, and they were roughly hewn.
"King Talin the White," Benedictus read. "Wielder of Beams."
Agnus Dei leaned against the structure. "Wielder of Beans?" she asked. "Because if he has any beans around here, I'm still hungry."
Benedictus glared at her. "Agnus Dei, show more respect among the tombs of the dead. We finally found our man, and you can only make a joke? Let's dig."
They dug in the earth, until they revealed more of the doorway. However, no more letters appeared there, as had on the other tombs. The door was bare.
"Great," Agnus Dei said. "All the other kings had bloody epics written on their doorways. We finally find a match, and his door just has his name on it. Just perfect."
Benedictus nodded. "In the Gray Age, when Talin the White ruled, the tombs were simpler. It is only in later years that the kings of Osanna built great, towering tombs in the shapes of beasts and warriors, and gilded letters on their doorways. Let's step inside. We'll find more answers within."
Agnus Dei raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Father? Do you remember what happened last time we entered a mausoleum? You almost got a skeleton as a son-in-law."
Benedictus grunted. "Sometimes I think I'd prefer the skeleton to Kyrie."
A screech sounded above. The Vir Requis spun around to see ten nightshades in the distance.
"Into the tomb!" Benedictus hissed. "Before they see us."
He dug frantically, revealing the rest of the door. The nightshades shrieked, moving closer. The youths snarled.
"Don't shift!" Benedictus whispered through strained jaws. "They haven't seen us yet."
He leaned against the doorway and pushed. It didn't budge. Kyrie added his weight, they grunted and strained, and finally the door creaked. It took the twins to help too, and the door inched its way open.
"In, quickly!"
They scurried into the tomb. It was dank, cold, and dark. The nightshades screamed outside, louder now. Soon Benedictus saw their shadows in the sky outside.
"Did they see us?" Lacrimosa whispered, clinging to his arm.
Benedictus shook his head. "I don't think so. Their eyes must be weak in the day. We're safe."
Breathing out shakily, he surveyed the tomb. The chamber held jewelled swords, golden vases, a suit of armor, and stone chests full of gems. Golden coins covered the floor.
Agnus Dei whistled. "Nice little place Talin's got here. But where's the king himself?"
Lacrimosa pointed at a second doorway in the back of the chamber. "In there."
Benedictus stepped toward the doorway and pushed it.
Something screamed.
The doorway crashed open, and a creature leaped at him.
Benedictus fell back and raised his sword. The blade hit rusty rings of steel, bolts, and spinning wheels. It shattered, and a shard scratched his arm.
"Father!" Agnus Dei cried. Benedictus heard her crossbow fire. He saw its quarrel slam into the creature, but it ricocheted off its metallic face. The creature's hands were spinning blades, reaching for Benedictus.
He rolled aside, and one of the spinning blades cut his shoulder. He grunted and kicked, and his leg hit the creature's ribs, which seemed made of bronze. The bronze was old, green and tarnished, and it shattered. The creature leaned back and screeched, a sound like metal gears.
The other Vir Requis were stabbing it, but blades seemed not to hurt it.
"Move back!" Benedictus roared. The others stepped back, and for the first time, Benedictus saw the creature clearly. It looked like a skeleton made of metal. Its body was all gears, wheels, rusty bones. Its eyes burned with firelight. It swung its arm, and a blade flew from its hand. Lacrimosa ducked, and the blade nearly cut her.
Benedictus kicked again, hitting the creature's bronze skull. The skull shattered, raining rust. The creature tried to attack again, but Benedictus kicked its remaining ribs. They shattered, revealing a pumping heart of leather. Benedictus stabbed the heart with his dagger. The leather burst and spilled hot, red blood.
The creature twitched, then leaned over, dead. Benedictus noticed that chains bound it to the doorway.
"What the abyss was that?" Kyrie said, panting.
"A machine," Benedictus said. "Built of elder knowledge now passed from the world."
Kyrie shuddered. "And a good thing, that is."
Benedictus grunted and examined his wound. It was ugly, and full of rust, but he'd worry about it later. He kicked the metal creature aside. It shattered into pieces that littered the floor. Beyond the doorway, a staircase led down into blackness.
"I'll go take a look," Benedictus said. "If it's safe, I'll call you down."
"Ben, I'll go with you," Lacrimosa said.
He shook his head. "No. In case there are more of these machines. Stay here, all of you."
Not waiting for an answer, he stepped downstairs into the darkness. The stairway was thin, and Benedictus placed his hand against the wall.
The stairway led to small chamber. There wasn't much light, and Benedictus lit his lamp with what oil remained. He saw several more mechanical skeletons, but they lay broken on the floor, rusting. Between them lay a sarcophagus shaped like a king with a long beard. The stone king held a stone shield and sword.
"King Talin is down here," he called up the stairway. "Come take a look."
The other Vir Requis stepped down. They crowded around the sarcophagus. Benedictus brushed dust and cobwebs off, and found letters engraved onto the stone shield.
Agnus Dei, leaning over the shield beside him, gasped.
"It's the text from the scroll!" she said. "Only all the letters are here now."
She unrolled the scroll from the tunnels below Requiem. She compared them side by side and nodded. They all leaned over the shield, and Agnus Dei read the words aloud.
"In the days of the Night Horrors, King Talin the White journeyed to the southern realms of Gol, and sought the Loomers of the golden pools. The Night Horrors stole the souls of Osanna, and cast them into the darkness, and Talin the White sought the counsel of the Loomers, who were wise above all others in the land. He spoke with the Loomers, and prayed with them, and they crafted him the Beams. Talin the White returned with the Beams to Osanna, and shone them upon the Night Horrors. He tamed them, and drove them into Well of Night in Confutatis, and sealed it. He placed guards around it, armed with Beams, so the Night Horrors can nevermore escape."
For a moment, they all stood in silence, considering the words. Benedictus stared into the stone eyes of the king, trying to imagine him fighting the nightshades, those same nightshades that now screeched outside the tomb. Finally Benedictus noticed that the others were all looking at him, waiting for him to speak. He scratched his chin.
"The Beams are from Gol," he said. "I've studied many maps, but seen no realm called Gol. The first tomb we saw, the one shaped as a griffin. It spoke of Gol; King Tenathax defeated it. Gol might no longer exist."
Kyrie tapped his cheek. "Gol... I wonder if it's related to Gilnor. We had a few maps of Osanna back at Fort Sanctus. I used to read them for fun; there wasn't much else to read. Gilnor lies to the southwest. It's nothing but swamps."
Lacrimosa nodded. Dust, rust, and cobwebs filled her hair. "I remember a song of Gilnor. Bards would sing of it in the halls of Requiem. I haven't heard the song in years, but... I remember. The lyrics spoke of the swamps of Gilnor. They said that once, thousands of years ago, a mythical kingdom stood there, a land of silver towers and bridges. The song spoke of creatures of darkness destroying the silver towers, and—"
Kyrie jumped and slapped the stone shield. "Creatures of darkness!" he repeated. "Night Horrors. Nightshades. These are all different names for those things that hunt us. They must have destroyed that kingdom of silver towers, which stood where Gilnor's swamps are. I bet you Gol was that ancient kingdom."
Benedictus grumbled. "Stop your jumping up and down, kid. Some old song of some silver towers doesn't mean anything."
Kyrie jumped again, as if in spite. "It means everything. Gilnor must mean Gol. You know the land of Tiranor?"
Benedictus nodded. "It lies far south, near the deserts."
"Well," Kyrie said, "the word 'Tira' used to mean 'fortress' in Old High Speech. Thousands of years ago, High Speech was a little different. I know the word 'Tira' from those old maps I told you about. It was written on the maps beside drawings of fortresses. Tiranor, in the south, had many forts in it; they formed a border along the desert. 'Nor' must mean 'land of' in Old High Speech. Tiranor means 'land of forts'. If I'm right, and I'm always right, 'Gilnor' means 'land of Gil'."
Agnus Dei spoke up. "But we're talking about Gol, pup, not Gil."
Kyrie was speaking so quickly now, his tongue could barely keep up. "Yes, but we're still talking about Old High Speech. That's what people used thousands of years ago, right? Old High Speech, when written down, had no vowels. Only High Speech today has vowels. The elders just wrote down consonants; they assumed you'd know how to read them. So the elders would just write 'GL', and figured you'd know how to say it properly. I'd wager people found the old books, maybe a thousand years later, and forgot how to pronounce the place names. They saw 'GL', and just read it 'Gil' instead of 'Gol'. The new name caught on. When people started writing vowels, they wrote it the wrong way. Gol must have become Gil, and Gil became Gilnor. Land of Gol." He took a deep breath. "It all fits."
Benedictus put a hand on Kyrie's shoulder. "Very clever, kid. But Gol was destroyed. Tenathax destroyed it, remember? It said so on his griffin tomb. Gol's a swampland now, and part of Osanna."
Kyrie looked giddy, rolling on the balls of his feet. "You know what? I say that's griffin dung. I bet you Tenathax was a bloody liar. See the text on Talin's shield. The nightshades attacked Gol. You've met our dear friends the nightshades. You know what they're capable of. I bet you the nightshades destroyed Gol, just like they destroyed Osanna. Years later, Tenathax merely had to walk into the ruins, annex them, and claim that he conquered the place in some glorious battle."
"You're assuming a lot, kid."
"I'm reading between the lines. You think Dies Irae is the only king to have glorified himself? They all did it, each and every one of the bastards. But these Loomers... I'm not sure who they are. Survivors of the nightshade attack on Gol, I'd guess. These Loomers found some way to survive in the ruins of Gol—the Beams. Talin must have stolen the Beams from them."
Agnus Dei punched Kyrie's shoulder. "Pup, you're making up half of this."
He shook his head. "Again, I'm reading between the lines. It says here the Loomers gave Talin the Beams. Really? Really? I think not. The Loomers lived in nightshade country. They'd never give up the one weapon they had. When the nightshades turned from Gol to Osanna, Talin must have heard of these Loomers surviving, and sought them out, and stole their Beams. And that's how he sealed the nightshades, and there was peace for thousands of years, until our friend Gloriae freed them."
Gloriae glared at him, but said nothing.
Benedictus grunted. "Kyrie, I don't know how you get all that. There are many pieces missing from this puzzle, and I'm not sure you have the right picture."
Kyrie grinned over the sarcophagus. "Well, there's only one way to find out." He began walking up the stairway, paused, and spoke over his shoulder. "Come on! We go to Gilnor. We seek the Loomers."
AGNUS DEI
As they entered the swamps of Gilnor, Agnus Dei couldn't stop glancing at Kyrie and Gloriae.
The mud was knee deep, and Agnus Dei sloshed through it. Kyrie was walking several yards away, mud covering him. He held a dagger in one hand, which he used to cut vines and branches in his way. Gloriae walked beside him, her hair caked with mud from a recent fall, the jewels and gold of her breastplate brown with the stuff. Once more she slipped, and Kyrie caught her. She lingered a moment too long in his arms, Agnus Dei thought, before righting herself and walking again.
Agnus Dei stifled a growl. She told herself that she should love her twin. After all these years, they were reunited; Agnus Dei knew she should feel rejoiceful. But whenever she looked at Gloriae, she wanted to punch her perfect, pretty face.
Lichen brushed Agnus Dei's cheek, and she slapped it aside, and now a growl did escape her lips. She tried not to, but kept imagining Kyrie touching Gloriae, their bodies naked together.
Don't think about it, she told herself. You promised Kyrie that you still love him.
Gloriae slipped again, and made a joke to Kyrie, who laughed. Agnus Dei bit her lip. Yes, she might still love the pup. But could she ever love Gloriae now?
Mother came to walk by Agnus Dei. She placed a hand on her shoulder, and when Agnus Dei looked at her, Mother smiled sadly.
"I think if you stare at her any harder, she'll burst into flames," Mother said.
Agnus Dei lowered her head. Kyrie and Gloriae were talking now, too busy with each other to notice the others.
"I know, Mother," Agnus Dei said, still watching the pair. "But I don't trust her. Even now."
Mother placed an arm around her. "She saved your life. When the nightshades grabbed you, it was Gloriae who saved you."
Agnus Dei sighed. The swamp water was deeper now, going up to their waists. "I know. It's just that...."
Mother nodded. "Gloriae and Kyrie."
Agnus Dei looked up at her mother, and saw warmth in the woman's eyes and smile. "Oh, Mother. He's just a pup, I know it, but... he was my pup."
Mother laughed. "I know, sweetness. He still is. The boy is madly in love with you."
"Are you sure he's not in love with Gloriae? Or she with him?"
Mother squeezed Agnus Dei's shoulder and kissed her cheek. "I'm sure. A mother knows these things. Agnus Dei, I don't know what happened between you three, but... try to forgive your sister. Please. We all must forgive one another now. We are all that's left of our race. If we can't live together, we won't survive."
Agnus Dei hugged her mother. "Okay. I'll try. It's hard, but I'll try."
Now that she wasn't staring at Kyrie and Gloriae, she looked closer at Gilnor's swamps. Where were these Loomers? She saw nothing but logs, lichen, trees, water, and more than anything—mud. Herons and frogs seemed to live everywhere. Mice scurried between the trees. Agnus Dei began collecting the frogs, lifting them from logs and lilies, and placing them in her pouch.
"Frog legs for dinner," she mumbled as she lifted a particularly fat one.
Movement ahead caught her eyes, and Agnus Dei stared, hoping to catch a heron for dinner too.
She gasped.
It was not a heron that moved ahead, but a huge eye protruding from the mud. The eye was the size of a mug, topped with scaly skin.
"Uh, guys?" Agnus Dei said. "There's an—"
The creature burst from the mud, roaring.
Agnus Dei shifted at once. She growled at the swamp beast. It looked like an alligator, but was the size of a dragon, fifty feet long and thin. It rushed at her, its teeth like swords.
Agnus Dei spun and lashed her tail. She hit the creature, knocking it into a tree.
The other Vir Requis shifted too. The five dragons surrounded the swamp creature, who howled and snapped its teeth. It lunged at Gloriae.
Gloriae, now a golden dragon, snarled and swiped her claws. Her claws dug into the creature, spilling blood. It screeched and bit Gloriae's shoulder, and she cried in pain.
Father snarled and leaped onto the creature's back. He bit its neck and spat out a chunk of flesh. The creature crashed into the mud, kicked its legs, then lay still.
"Are you all right?" Father asked Gloriae, blood in his mouth.
She nodded and clutched her shoulder. "It only nicked me."
They stood panting for a moment, staring at the dead creature.
"It's some kind of alligator," Agnus Dei said. "But I've never seen one so large."
Gloriae nodded. "And the thing almost r—"
Shrieks shook the swamp, interrupting Gloriae. A dozen other swamp creatures burst from the mud, howled, and charged at the Vir Requis.
Two charged toward Agnus Dei. She blew fire at one, and it screeched and fell back against a tree. The second clawed at her. Agnus Dei dodged the claws and swiped her tail. She drove her tail's spikes into its side, then pulled back, dragging the creature. She slammed it against a tree.
The burned gator charged, smoking. Agnus Dei snarled, and they crashed into each other. The creature snapped its teeth. Agnus Dei held it back with her front legs, and flapped her wings against it. It howled so loudly, Agnus Dei thought it would deafen her. Its drool splashed her. She kicked its belly, and it crashed back. She blew flames at it, and it screeched.
Teeth sank into her shoulder.
Agnus Dei screamed and reached back, digging her claws into the head of another gator. It opened its mouth to roar, and she spun around, and drove her horns into its neck. That stopped its roaring.
She kicked its body down, and looked around wildly. The other Vir Requis had killed all but two gators. The pair growled, whimpered, and sank into the mud. They began swimming away.
Agnus Dei tried to leap at them, but Father held her shoulder.
"Let them flee," he said. "And stay in dragon form. We're hidden here under the trees and moss. If those things return, I'd rather we met them as dragons."
As blood spread through the swamp waters, the five dragons began wading forward. Agnus Dei had no idea where they were going. Father walked at their lead, but she suspected he just moved aimlessly. "Gol" was all the text on the shield had said. As far as Agnus Dei could tell, the swamps of Gilnor spread for dozens of leagues.
"Maybe those gators were the Loomers," Kyrie said, walking beside her. Lichen draped over his scales.
"Don't be stupid, pup," Agnus Dei scolded him, though secretly, she was relieved to see that he now walked beside her, and not by her sister. "Did those look like Loomers to you?"
Hanging moss went into his mouth, and he spat it out. "So you know what Loomers look like now?"
"Well, I reckon that they're... old men."
Kyrie nodded. "Very old, since they crafted the Beams thousands of years ago."
Agnus Dei twisted her claws. "And they probably... have looms."
Kyrie whistled appreciatively. "Agnus Dei, by the stars, you've got it. Old men with looms. Why didn't I think of that?"
She growled and glared at him. "All right, pup, don't get smart. So I don't know what Loomers look like. But I'm pretty damn sure they're not oversized alligators."
He lashed his tail, splashing her with mud. Agnus Dei screamed like one of the gators, lashed her own tail, and splashed him back. He ducked, and the mud hit Gloriae, who gave Agnus Dei an icy stare. Soon Kyrie was slinging more mud, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips, and Agnus Dei fought back with equal fervor.
"Vir Requis!" Father thundered. "Stop that."
Agnus Dei rolled her eyes and tossed more mud at Kyrie. "Oh, Father, I'm just teaching the pup a lesson."
Kyrie froze and stared over her shoulder. "Uh... Agnus Dei? You might want to listen to your old man."
Agnus Dei frowned; Kyrie was gaping. She turned around slowly, and her mouth fell open.
Agnus Dei had once sneaked away from Mother and visited a town fair, disguised in a cloak and hood. She had seen a stall selling balls of twine. The creatures ahead looked like great balls of twine, the size of barrels, glowing bright blue. Every thread in their forms seemed filled with moonlight. They hovered over the swamp, pulsing, their light reflecting in the water.
"The Loomers," Agnus Dei whispered.
There were seven. Two appeared to be children; they wobbled as they floated, no larger than apples. The Loomers seemed to turn toward Agnus Dei and regard her, though she couldn't be sure; they had no eyes. They nodded, tilting in the air.
They began to vibrate, and a hum grew within them, until the sound formed words.
"We are Loomers. We are elders' light. We are weavers."
Agnus Dei sloshed toward them in the mud. She felt so coarse, dirty, and clumsy compared to these creatures of light.
"Do you know about the Beams?" she asked, panting.
The Loomers nodded again.
"We are Loomers. We are weavers. Our elders wove the Beams of Light. Our elders blinded the Night Horrors."
Agnus Dei couldn't help but laugh, and she fell back into the mud. "We found them! We found the Loomers. Now we can defeat the nightshades."
Tears filled her eyes. Finally, it seemed, their pain was over. Finally they could reclaim the world—for Requiem, for Osanna, for her and her loved ones.
Father approached the Loomers. He bowed his head. "Loomers of the Golden Pools," he said. "I am Benedictus, King of Requiem."
The Loomers flared. Their light turned white and angry, and they crackled and hissed.
"King?" they said, voices like lightning splitting a tree. "King Talin stole our Beams. Our elders were great weavers. Our elders crafted the Beams. Our elders blinded the Night Horrors. King Talin stole from our elders, stole the light of Gol. We have no love for kings. Have you come to steal from us, King Benedictus?"
Father kept his head bowed. "I seek not to steal from you, wise Loomers. I seek only your aid and wisdom. The Night Horrors have emerged again, and have overrun our lands."
The Loomers flared brighter. They spun so quickly, they appeared as pulsing stars.
"The Night Horrors!" they cried, voices like storm and steam. "The Night Horrors fly again. This is blackness, weavers. This is deep blackness."
Agnus Dei rose to her feet. She sloshed through the mud. "Can you weave us new Beams?" she asked the Loomers. "We need new ones."
Father nodded. "Noble Loomers, we seek knowledge of the Beams."
The Loomers were still spinning, their light flashing across the swamp. "We cannot weave new Beams."
Agnus Dei gasped. "Why not?"
Father touched her shoulder. "Agnus Dei, please, hush." He turned back to the Loomers. "Loomers, please share your knowledge of the Beams. The Night Horrors have covered the northern realms, and we fear they will soon cover the world with their darkness. What more can you tell us? Why can no new Beams be woven?"
The Loomers stopped spinning, and dipped two feet, so that they almost touched the mud. They seemed defeated. Their light dimmed, and Agnus Dei could see the intricate network of their glowing strands.
"We are elders' light," they said, glowing faintly. "The elders lived many seasons ago. The elders wove the Beams. We are elders' light. We have not the wisdom of the old age. We cannot weave new Beams."
Agnus Dei shut her eyes. "So the knowledge of the Beams is lost. Only your ancestors knew how to make them."
The Loomers flared, their light blinding her. "Not all knowledge is lost, youngling. We have knowledge of the old Beams, the Beams of the elder Loomers. The knowledge of weaving them is lost. The Beams still shine."
Gloriae inhaled sharply. Agnus Dei looked at her, and saw that Gloriae's eyes were narrowed, her jaw clenched.
"Loomers," Father said to the beings of light, "where can we find the elders' Beams?"
The Loomers' light dimmed further, until they barely glowed at all. "We do not know. Talin stole them. Talin stole from Elder Loomers."
Gloriae stepped toward them, and spoke for the first time. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. "Loomers, what do the Beams look like?"
The Loomers seemed to regard her, shining their light upon her golden scales. "The elders built golden skulls, and placed the Great Light within them, so that the Beams will shine from the eye sockets, and look upon the world, and tame the Night Horrors."
Gloriae turned to the other Vir Requis. Her eyes seemed haunted, and her wings hung limp at her sides. For a moment she only stared, silent, and Agnus Dei thought she might faint.
Finally Gloriae spoke.
"I know where the Beams are." She winced and covered her eyes with her claws. "Of course. Of course they are there."
Agnus Dei stepped toward her sister and clutched her shoulder. "What? You knew all along?" She shook Gloriae. "Why didn't you tell us? Where are they?"
Gloriae allowed herself to be shaken. She looked at Agnus Dei with wide, pained eyes. "I saw them, but didn't know what they were. The nightshades were sealed in the Well of Night, an abyss in the dungeons of Confutatis. A doorway guards the chamber. There are golden skulls embedded into the doorway, eyes glowing in their sockets. I... I remember looking at them, but... I didn't realize they were the Beams until now."
Agnus Dei laughed and screamed. She turned toward Kyrie and her parents. "Of course! Where else would King Talin put the Beams? Once he sealed the nightshades, he put the Beams near them, so people could use them if the nightshades escaped." She began sloshing through the mud, heading north. "Come on! We go to Confutatis."
BENEDICTUS
They lay on their bellies in human forms. Burned tree branches creaked above them, and their cloaks of leaves, twigs, and mud covered them. Ahead, beyond fallow fields, Benedictus saw the Marble City.
"Confutatis," he whispered.
He stared with narrow eyes. He knew the others were staring too. Here Dies Irae ruled. From here did his nightshades and the shadow of his arm stretch across the land. Benedictus saw thousands of those nightshades over the city, even now in daylight. They screeched, nested on walls, and coiled in the air.
"How do we sneak into the city?" Lacrimosa whispered. Twigs and thorns and dirt covered her cloak. From above, she'd look like a mound of brush and mud. She peeked from her hood at Benedictus, fear in her eyes.
Benedictus watched nightshades swarm over the fields outside Confutatis, as if seeking surviving peasants. The creatures roared and returned to the city, where they landed upon a wall. Men too covered those walls, Benedictus saw. They were too small to see clearly, but their armor glinted in the sun. He estimated there would be hundreds of troops there, maybe thousands, armed with bows and crossbows.
"We can't sneak in," Benedictus said. "We've been watching for hours. Nobody's entered or exited the gates. The city is locked down. Dies Irae is waiting for us."
Agnus Dei growled beside him. "Nightshades? Thousands of soldiers? Dies Irae? Come on. We can take 'em. We'll shift into dragons and burn the bastards."
Gloriae too snarled. "Agreed. Let's attack. Head-on. No more sneaking around. We fly, we burn, we destroy. We kill Dies Irae, grab the Beams, and seal the nightshades."
Hidden under his camouflaged cloak, Kyrie pumped his fist. "Troll dung, yeah! I'm in. We fly at them by surprise. They won't know what hit 'em."
Benedictus scowled at the youths. "No. And that's final. If we fly into Confutatis, we die. There are five of us. There are thousands of nightshades; they'll tear us apart. That is, if they can reach us before those archers' arrows. I see a hundred archers from here, maybe more."
Agnus Dei clenched her fists. "I can take those archers. I'll burn them alive. I'm tired of slinking around. I could use a straight fight."
"Me too," Gloriae said.
"Me too," Kyrie said.
"Me too," Lacrimosa said.
They all turned to face Lacrimosa in shock.
"Mother, are you feeling all right?" Agnus Dei said. "You want to fight? You're always on about finding the peaceful solution, of using our brains instead of our brawn, of hiding instead of getting killed. You want to fight now too?"
Benedictus looked at his wife as if she were mad. She stared back at him, jaw tight, chin raised.
"My love," he said to her. "Are you sure? Tell me what you're thinking."
Lacrimosa stared at him, eyes solemn. "Yes. We fight. We charge them head-on. The time for hiding is over. We need those Beams, and an attack on the city is the only way we'll get them. But we won't fly alone." She pulled from her cloak the golden candlestick. Its emeralds glinted. "We fly with the griffins."
Kyrie and Agnus Dei's eyes shone. Gloriae, however, looked worried.
"Mother," she said. "I... I use to ride a griffin. Wouldn't they hate me now?"
Lacrimosa touched Gloriae's shoulder. "We all enslaved the griffins. Requiem and Osanna. They're free to make their choices now. They will fly with us. They will fly to thank me for healing their prince. They will fly to defeat the nightshades and Dies Irae; they hold no love for them. We will summon them. We will fly alongside them, not as their masters, but as their allies. We will charge the city, take the Beams, and defeat the nightshades."
"And face Dies Irae," Benedictus said in a low voice. That was what it all came down to, he thought. Once more, he'd have to face his brother. Dies Irae. The man who'd raped Lacrimosa. The man who'd killed their parents. The man who'd hunted the Vir Requis to near extinction.
Once more, I will meet you in battle, brother, Benedictus thought.
He remembered meeting Dies Irae upon Lanburg Fields, biting off his arm, sparing his life. He remembered duelling Dies Irae in the same place, ten years later, this time taking the man's eye.
This time, only one of us walks away, Benedictus thought. You or I will die in this battle. We cannot both live.
The Vir Requis retreated behind the cover of wilted trees, and Lacrimosa placed the candlestick on the ground. She inserted a candle and lit it. It flickered, nearly perished in the wind, and raised blue smoke.
"Did it work?" Agnus Dei whispered.
Nobody answered. The candle kept burning. They watched silently, until the candle began to gutter, its last drops of wax dripping. Benedictus lowered his head. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. A flash of light? The roar of griffins?
The flame gave a last flicker, then died.
The wick hissed, and the blue smoke rose. It curled, dispersed, then regrouped into the shape of a tiny griffin. The griffin of blue smoke opened its beak, flapped its wings, and flew away.
"It works," Benedictus whispered. "Aid has been summoned."
He stood up, collected his belongings, and led the others deeper into the wilted woods. He walked until they found a rocky slope that led to a stream. They climbed down, and washed their clothes, and bathed. Dead trees reached over them, their branches like knobby fingers. Three cloven shields, several copper coins, and the bladeless hilt of a sword lay on the stream's bank. A battle had been fought here.
"We wait here," Benedictus said. "Stay under cover of the trees. Stay with your camouflaged cloaks over you. Do not speak loudly, do not light fires, and do not shift."
They nodded, and for once the youths didn't argue.
"Good," Benedictus said. "Kyrie, I have a task for you. I saw an abandoned, smashed farmhouse a distance back. Go see if they have any food. No hunting. I dare not risk a fire. Get us bread, fruit, vegetables, dry meats."
Kyrie nodded, drew his sword, and headed off between the trees.
Benedictus turned to the twins. "Gloriae and Agnus Dei, I have a task for you too." He pointed between the trees. "See that toppled fort?"
Gloriae nodded. "It still stood last year. The nightshades toppled it. It looks abandoned now."
Benedictus nodded. "See if you can find new quarrels for our crossbows. If soldiers chance upon our camp, I'd rather we kill them with quarrel than roaring fire."
The twins drew their blades, nodded, and soon disappeared between the trees.
Once the youths were beyond earshot, Lacrimosa laughed softly, and touched Benedictus's arm. The sunlight danced in her eyes and smile.
"You're good at finding us quiet time."
He couldn't help but smile. "I do what I can." He embraced and kissed his wife. "Lacrimosa, you're as beautiful as the day I met you. I don't tell you that enough."
She touched his cheek. "I remember that day. I was fifteen. It was my debut. We danced in the hall of your father—I, the daughter of nobility, and you, my prince. All knew that we would marry."
He held her, and they swayed as if dancing again in those marble halls.
"I was too old for you," he said. "And I'm too old for you now. You're still young and beautiful, Lacrimosa. And I'm aging. And I'm tired. You've deserved a better life."
She kissed his lips. "You've given me the life I wanted. A life by your side. A mother to your children. I could ask for no more. We will rebuild that hall, Ben. We will dance there again, as we did twenty years ago."
He cupped her chin in his hand, and kissed her again. She looked into his eyes, and her beauty pierced him. Her skin was fair, smooth, white as snow. Her eyes were lavender pools. He streamed her hair between his fingers. Those fingers were so coarse, calloused, and her hair was like silk, a blond so pale it was almost white. They kissed again, her arms around him.
"I would make love to you," he said, "a final time."
She ran her fingers down his cheek. "We will make love many more times, my lord."
He held her. "I don't know if we return from this flight. But let us live for this moment. Let us fly for this memory."
They lay on their cloaks by the water, and Benedictus undressed his wife slowly, marvelling at her pale skin, her slim body that was bruised and scarred from all her battles. He kissed her, and held her, and lay with her by the water.
"I love you forever," he whispered to her. "I will be with you forever, if not in this life, then in the halls of our forefathers beyond the stars."
When the youths returned, supplies in their hands, Benedictus and Lacrimosa were sitting by the water, holding each other.
"Here—quarrels," Gloriae said, and spilled them onto the dirt.
"A string of sausages, apples, and two cabbages that aren't too moldy," Kyrie said, and placed the food on a boulder.
"You're getting it dirty, pup," Agnus Dei said and shoved him. He glared at her, and dumped dirt down her shirt, and she growled and leaped at him. Soon Gloriae joined the fray, laughing as she tried to separate the two.
Benedictus watched the youths, and he smiled. It was so rare to hear Gloriae laugh.
"Her laughter is beautiful," he said to Lacrimosa. "Our daughters are beautiful."
He held his wife close. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and they sat watching the young ones, waiting for the griffins.