AGNUS DEI
As she worked, she couldn't stop her fingers from shaking. Piles of firewood, kindling, and jars of oil filled the underground cellars. They had been collecting it for weeks from beyond Requiem's borders, enough to last all winter, to warm their bones and cook their food. As Agnus Dei carried log after log outside, she couldn't help but shiver. She had never imagined they'd use this wood for war... to kill mimics.
Mimics. Even in the chill of winter, sweat washed her. She hated mimics. She had seen them only once, but still woke most nights, out of breath and sweaty, memories of their rot and worms filling her mind.
"I miss you, Dada," she whispered as she carried four logs upstairs, out of the cellar, and into the snowy courtyard. A pile of branches, twigs, and logs rose there, ten feet tall.
Mother stood by the wood, frowning toward the east. The wind filled her hair and fluttered her old, tattered dress. Her eyes seemed dead; no fear, pain, or mourning filled them. Agnus Dei wanted to hug her, but something held her back. She was not only her mother now, but Queen Lacrimosa of Requiem. Ruler of these ruins. Widow.
A lump filled Agnus Dei's throat.
"Here, Mother," she said and added her logs to the pile. Her sister Gloriae stepped out from the cellars behind her, also carrying wood. Finally Kyrie emerged and added more wood to the pile.
Mother seemed not to notice. She kept staring into the snowy horizons, as if imagining the mimics that approached.
"Mother," Agnus Dei whispered. Gingerly, she touched her shoulder. "We've brought the last wood from the cellars. What now?"
Mother turned to face her, and Agnus Dei realized she'd been wrong. Mother's eyes were not dead. Pain saturated them, but steel lived there too, a strength that held the mourning at bay like a breakwater holding back the waves. The passing clouds reflected in those lavender eyes. For a long moment Lacrimosa was silent, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and cold as the snow.
"You will build spears, Agnus Dei. Spears with tips of kindling, to burn mimics."
Agnus Dei nodded. She lifted a long, narrow branch from the pile. Her knuckles turned white around it. "This one will do. I will kill mimics with it."
Mother turned to Gloriae. "And you, daughter. Take our hundred arrows, and wrap their tips with kindling, and soak them with oil. Then make more arrows from straight, strong sticks; they won't have blades or fletching, but they'll still fly and burn."
Gloriae nodded. Her lips were tight, her fists clenched at her sides. The wind fluttered her golden locks and pinched her cheeks pink.
"Yes," she said. "I'm ready for fire. I'm ready to kill."
Mother then turned to Kyrie. "And you, Kyrie, will help me. We'll build a ring of fire around the fort. When the mimics arrive, it'll shield us."
Kyrie nodded. "I'm good at building fires. We'll soak the wood in oil, and crack it, and stuff kindling into it. When the mimics arrive, it'll catch fire quickly and burn high." He touched Mother's shoulder. "We'll be safe, Lacrimosa. I promise you. I... I'm no great warrior like Benedictus, but...." He swallowed and squared his shoulders. "I'll do all I can to protect you and your daughters."
Agnus Dei smiled sadly. She was better than the pup in a fight, and Gloriae was too, but she knew what he was doing, and she loved him for it. She approached Kyrie, embraced him, and kissed his cheek. He held her, his gloves sticky with sap.
"I love you, pup," she whispered, her head against his shoulder.
Another pair of arms held her, and Agnus Dei saw that Gloriae joined the embrace. For a moment the three stood, warm in their embrace as the wind blew. Then they broke apart.
"We prepare for fire and for war," Agnus Dei said.
She began collecting the long, straight branches from the pile. She placed them in a corner of the courtyard, in the shadow of the archway. They'll make good spears, she thought. Not strong spears like those of soldiers, carved from the heart of boles and tipped with steel, but they'll do. Gloriae was collecting the smaller sticks and placing them at the courtyard's other end. Kyrie and Lacrimosa were collecting logs, crooked branches, and any pieces the twins could not use; they began arranging them in a ring around the courtyard.
As she worked, Agnus Dei kept scanning the horizon for the mimics. From here upon the mountaintop, she could see leagues of ruins. The land was dead.
When will the mimics arrive? The wind howled, and Agnus Dei shivered. The sun was setting, and it was getting colder. The clouds thickened.
When evening fell, a ring of wood and kindling surrounded the fort's courtyard, soaked in oil. Torches stood in the ground in an inner ring, two feet apart; wherever mimics attacked, the Vir Requis could grab one to swing. Piles of javelins tipped with oiled brushwood lay around the courtyard for easy access. Each Vir Requis wore a steel helmet, greaves, and vambraces. Gloriae wore her breastplate too. They each held a bow, and their quivers held arrows tipped with oiled straw.
"We're ready for battle," Agnus Dei said, surveying the scene. Splinters, sap, and oil covered her gloves.
Kyrie raised an eyebrow. "Ready? No. This is not what I'd call ready. If we had a hundred men, I wouldn't call us ready. But it's as ready as we'll be this night."
Snow began to fall again, and Agnus Dei cursed.
"Will the wood light when wet?" she asked.
Kyrie frowned. "We soaked it with oil. I hope so." But his eyes didn't look hopeful, and his fists tightened.
The sun sent a last flicker of red light, then sank behind the horizon. The wind screamed, and Agnus Dei shivered. She clutched Kyrie's hand.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "Where are they?"
Gloriae and Lacrimosa came to stand by them. They held their bows.
"Do not light fires yet," Lacrimosa whispered. "We don't want a beacon for mimics to see."
Agnus Dei held Kyrie's hand so tightly, he grunted, but she would not let go. She kept scanning the valleys around them, but saw nothing in the darkness. The wind pierced her cloak. She wanted to shift into a dragon, to blow fire, to rush into battle, but dared not. Her magic would fail once those creatures arrived. Agnus Dei gritted her teeth.
"I wish they'd show up already," she said, struggling not to scream out challenges to them. "I hate the waiting. I hate the dark. I want a fight. I want—"
A howl rose in the distance.
Agnus Dei squeezed Kyrie's hand.
For a moment nobody spoke.
"A jackal?" Agnus Dei finally whispered.
A second howl answered the first, distant but loud, gurgling and rising to a squeal.
"That's no jackal," Gloriae said. She hefted her tinderbox. "It's them."
Agnus Dei scanned the night, but saw only shadows. "I can't see them!"
"Quiet," Gloriae said, voice like silk. "Do not speak."
The wind moaned, and another howl sounded. Agnus Dei snarled. Her fingers trembled, and her heart thrashed. Suddenly she wanted to flee, to shift into a dragon and fly for leagues, to disappear into the west.
Stay strong, she told herself. For my family, and for Kyrie.
"Come on," she whispered and growled. "Come on, you bastards. Show yourselves."
Grunts sounded in the distance, and squeals, and thumping feet. A creature screamed, a chilling sound like a slaughtered animal. A rumble answered it, and a shrill cry like a dying cat.
"Weredragons!" rose a cry, high-pitched and inhuman. "We smell them. Yes, brothers. We smell them ahead. We will suck the marrow from their bones."
Agnus Dei released Kyrie's hand and reached into her pack. She clutched the tinderbox she kept there. Strangely, her fingers no longer trembled, and her heart steadied. Now was not the time for terror. Now was the time for battle, for fire, for blood.
"Be brave, Kyrie," she whispered, speaking to herself more than to him. "Be brave for the memory of Father."
The howls grew closer, and a stench hit Agnus Dei's nostrils, a stench of bodies. Countless feet thumped up the mountainsides. Screams curdled her blood.
"Weredragons! We smell them, brothers. We smell sweet blood and marrow. Ahead! On the mountaintop!"
Agnus Dei opened her tinderbox. She placed its flint against firesteel, prepared to strike a spark.
A night of fire. I will be brave, Father. For your memory. I will fight well.
A light flickered—Gloriae lighting her own tinderbox, and soon an arrow blazed in her bow.
Agnus Dei sparked flint against steel, drew an arrow from her quiver, and lit it. She nocked, drew her bowstring, and aimed.
"They have fire, brothers! Fire ahead. They seek to burn us! Feed upon them. Make them as we are!" The squeals and screams filled the darkness.
A third light flickered; Kyrie igniting the ring of fire. It burst into flame around them, a towering wall of light and smoke and heat. Lacrimosa was hurrying from torch to torch, lighting them too—hand-to-hand weapons, should the creatures breach their defenses.
Agnus Dei could see the mimics now, and she couldn't help it. She screamed.
A hundred scurried up the mountainside like cockroaches. They were creatures of rot, worms, maggots, bones and stitches. Blood covered their teeth. Their eyes blazed, and their claws reached toward them. Their leader bore two swords. When it held them out, Agnus Dei saw that its arms were seven feet long; each was sewn together from three normal arms, like a string of sausages.
"Weredragons!" this mimic cried, voice guttural and thundering. It brandished its swords. "I will feast upon your entrails."
Another voice rose, commanding and deep, and Agnus Dei realized it was Mother.
"Burn them!" she cried and fired a flaming arrow. "Burn them dead."
Her arrow pierced the night, a comet of fire, and slammed into a mimic's chest. The creature screamed and fell.
First blood spilled. The mimics screamed and charged.
MEMORIA
Memoria had never gotten used to living in an ice palace.
Even after all these years, she remembered and missed her house in Requiem. She remembered walking upon mosaic floors, stepping over dolphins and elks and dragons, and how the colorful stones tickled her bare feet. She remembered the rafters of her attic, where she'd hide and read books. In her mind, she still saw the balcony over the vineyard, where she'd paint the sunsets. Most of all, she remembered the southern warmth, how she'd lie in the garden and soak up the sun, hear the birds, and watch the dragonflies.
Here there were no birds or dragonflies, no gardens or trees, no warmth. She lived in a palace now, but it was built of ice. The floor, the ceiling, the columns that rose two hundred feet tall; nothing but ice, cold and glimmering and cruel to her southern bones. She could see the sun through the ceiling, blurred and small, but even it seemed cold, like the glimmer of icicles.
She walked across Whale Hall, her slippers silent. Few elders came to Whale Hall anymore; it was an ancient place where ice crystals rose like a whale's ribs. It had become her sanctuary, her place of prayer. At the edge of the hall the ceiling was thin, and sunlight fell like raining fireflies. Memoria knelt in the sunbeams, the ice hard against her knees, and closed her eyes. She wrapped her seal furs around her, this raiment of exile, and whispered to her stars.
"If you're up there, Kyrie, know that I love you. If you watch over me from Draco's stars, hear my words." She hugged herself, and her eyes stung. "I love you forever, little brother. I miss you every day."
She heard footfalls behind her, opened her eyes, and turned to see her second brother. Terra was walking toward her, clad as always in his old armor. Frost coated the filigreed plates, his horned helmet, and the silver scabbard of his sword. He wore a walrus moustache in the style of the bellators, Requiem's noble warriors; he was the last of their order, but still clung to their symbols. A fur cloak draped over his shoulders, a single piece of the north over his steel garb of southern glory.
"Sister, I worry for you." He sighed. "You spend hours here, speaking to him every day. I miss our brother too. I loved him. But... Memoria, how do you know that he hears?"
Memoria stood up and glared at him. Terra was tall and broad, and she was short and slim, but she glared at him nonetheless. His hair was fair like hers, but already white kissed his temples. His eyes were brown like hers, but sadder, she thought; weary eyes that had seen too much. He was two years her senior, thirty this winter, but looked forty. Youth's hope and grace had left him. She remembered him a dozen years ago, always laughing, bronzed from working in their vineyard. She had not heard him laugh since.
Not since our baby brother left us, she thought. Not since Kyrie died at Lanburg Fields. My sweet, small Kyrie, the light of our family... forever extinguished, forever a hole inside us.
"Kyrie's spirit shines among the Draco stars," she said softly. "I know he can hear me. So I speak to him, and I will speak to him every day. You should too, Terra." Tears stung her eyes. "Kyrie needs your prayers too."
Terra sighed again. His hands closed around hers, gloved in leather, warm despite the cold around them. "Sister, I was a knight of Requiem. I devoted my life to helping the living. I know nothing of the dead." He squeezed her hands. "Today the living need us. The icelings are hungry. We must fly. We must hunt."
They walked down the hall between its columns of whorled ice. They stepped between two crystals, then walked through chambers that rose three hundred feet tall. Crystals glimmered around them, larger than dragons. Through towering windows, like windows in a cathedral, Memoria saw a thousand more palaces. They spread for a league across the iceberg, built of ice and snow, glistening like stars. Most of those palaces were abandoned now, she knew, only ghosts left to haunt their halls. Only two hundred icelings lived today, but their ancestors' palaces still stood, their ice never melting, their beauty never fading.
These remaining icelings glided around Memoria between the columns. Their sealskin robes swayed, and their hair was white as snow, even the hair of the children. Their eyes were azure, like clear pools under the sun, and they bore whalebone staffs crowned with their birth crystals.
Memoria wore furs now too—her woollen clothes from Requiem had gone threadbare years ago—but she bore no staff like the icelings. Like her brother, she wore a sword of Requiem at her hip, a glimmering shard of steel she had named Luna Nova.
Why do we still wear these swords? Memoria thought, as she thought every day. We swung them in Requiem's tunnels, in darkness too narrow for dragonfire. But they couldn't hold back the enemy. They couldn't save our parents... and they couldn't save Kyrie. So many times, Memoria had wanted to toss her sword into the ocean, watch it sink forever from her memory, but she could not. She was still a soldier, even after all these years, even as Requiem lay in ruin. She still had a soldier's pride.
"Sky friends!"
The words echoed across the hall. Memoria looked up to see Amberus, the Elder of Elders, walking toward them. His flowing robes hid his feet; he seemed to float. His beard was so long, it trailed five feet behind him like a wake. A necklace of icicles hung around his neck, and he held a staff crowned with a garnet the size of a man's heart.
"May your hunt today bring you much fortune," he said, "better than the days before it." His bony fingers tightened around his staff. He looked around at the other icelings, who moved silently between the frozen chambers. "They do not run or laugh, not even the children. They are hungry. They are thin."
Memoria bowed her head. "We will fly far today, Amberus. We will fly close to the Jet Mountains, but we dare not fly beyond them."
The elder's eyes darkened. "If the giants keep eating, we must abandon the Ice City."
Memoria's eyes widened. She gasped. "Abandon it? But Amberus, the icelings have lived here for a million years, since the dawn of ice. How could you abandon it?"
Amberus swept his arms around him, his bracelets of icicles clinking. "We have already abandoned it, sky child. Countless icelings once lived here. Two hundred remain, their bellies tight. I will let no more starve. The day will come, and we will have to leave, to move north, to the very feet of the Jet Mountains where seals still gather. We cannot let the giants eat so many. Their appetite is greater than that of snow craving clouds."
Terra placed a hand on the elder's shoulder. "Do not move north, Amberus. The giants hunger for more than seal flesh. You know how many icelings they've killed for sport. You cannot fight them."
The old iceling shook his head. The icicles strewn through his beard chinked. "No. But you can. When you take the sky spirit forms, you are mighty warriors."
Memoria took a deep breath. "May it never come to that. Let us fly on one more hunt. The giants would not eat all the seals, or they too would starve. There are more. We'll find them." She turned to her brother. "Come, Terra, we fly."
Even here, a thousand leagues north from her home, the Draco stars blessed her. Memoria drew her magic, the magic of Requiem. Scales flowed across her body, green like the forests of her home, glimmering in the morning light. Wings grew from her back. Claws, white as bone, grew from her fingertips and toes. She flapped her wings, took flight as a dragon, and flew between ice columns into the sky.
Terra shifted too. Soon he was flying beside her, a bronze dragon with white horns, his scales frosted. They flew north, leaving the Ice City, gliding over sheets of ice and snow toward the cruel Jet Mountains that marked the end of the world.
Memoria breathed deeply, relishing the wind. True, it was too cold here in exile, at the northern fringe of the world. And true, she missed seeing forests and rivers below her, not endless leagues of white. But at least she still had flying. To spread wings, feel fire tickle her nostrils, dive and swoop and be free... this was happiness to her.
"Do you remember how we'd fly with the herds?" she called to Terra. He flew at her side, gazing forward with those brown, weary eyes. "Do you remember how we'd sing as we flew over Requiem?"
He did not answer. She knew he remembered, but Terra preferred to forget. Let him seek solace in the ice, she thought. My solace remains in the whispers of warm, southern past.
They flew for a long time, over gleaming sheets of ice, dunes of snow, and boulders that rose grey and black like ancient goblins turned to stone. The world was white, grey, and black. Her green scales, and Terra's bronze ones, were the only colors for leagues.
At noon, the Jet Mountains appeared on the horizon, great walls of black stone, ice, and snow. The home of giants. Memoria had never seen a giant, but she had seen their footprints, three toed and six feet long. She had seen the blood, bones, and offal they left behind after killing those icelings who ventured beyond the Ice City. And she saw them in her nightmares, shadows always at the corners of her eyes.
"Memoria, look," Terra said. He gestured ahead to a sheet of ice behind a ridge of boulders.
She looked, and her heart leaped.
"Seals!" she said.
A dozen of them, fat and lazy on the ice! This was rare. This time of year, seals normally swam under the ice, and Memoria had expected long hours of searching for their breathing holes. To find a dozen on the surface.... She laughed. If she caught them all, they would feed the icelings for days. Their fur would make warm blankets and clothes; their bones would be carved into blades, buttons, and needles; their sinew would make thread; their teeth would make necklaces and bracelets. This was a treasure.
She dived toward them, reaching out her claws, her heart racing for the hunt. Flames flickered between her teeth. Terra dived beside her, his claws extended.
The seals weren't fleeing.
Memoria frowned. They weren't moving at all.
Something's wrong.
She landed, claws digging into the ice. Terra landed beside her.
"They're dead," Memoria said. She nudged one with her claws. "But there's no blood, and they're gutted. Who would do such a thing? Kill seals, and place them on the ice, and...."
She froze.
Terra finished for her. "Bait," he said. "Whoever did this was laying out bait."
Memoria looked wildly from side to side, seeking giants. They must have done this.
"I see nobody," she whispered. She sucked in her breath, prepared to blow fire at any enemy who might appear, but she saw nothing for leagues; nothing but plains of ice.
Terra frowned. "I hear something. Listen."
She listened, and she heard it—a low rumble beneath her feet. The ice creaked. Memoria opened her mouth to speak... and her magic vanished.
She gasped. Her wings pulled back into her. Her scales disappeared. Suddenly she stood on the ice as a human. Terra's magic vanished too, leaving him human and looking just as confused. He tightened his jaw, drew his sword, and stared from side to side.
"What happened?" Memoria whispered. She had never heard of Vir Requis losing their magic. She too drew her sword. The ice shook wildly now, and a shriek sounded from below it.
"Let's get out of here," Terra said. "Go!"
But before Memoria could move, a hole burst open in the ice, and three creatures emerged from underwater.
Memoria screamed.
They were dead bodies, bloated and pale. But no; they were not mere bodies, but creations, sewn together from bits and pieces. She saw the stitches holding their limbs and heads to their torsos. Even in the cold, they stank so powerfully that Memoria gagged. The creatures squealed like walruses. Blood stained their teeth. Their fingers ended with the claws of bears, and those claws swiped at Memoria.
She leaped back and lashed her sword.
Memoria had been a soldier once. She could still fight, even in human form. Her blade severed the creature's hand, but it kept charging. It barrelled into her, snapping its teeth. Its claws slashed her shoulder.
Memoria fell onto the ice. She kicked one creature's head. Its neck snapped back, and worms spilled from its mouth.
"Agnus Dei," it hissed at her. "Dies Irae wants you, Agnus Dei. He sent me to you."
What is it talking about? Memoria drove her sword's grip into its face, crushing its nose and knocking out its teeth. She scrambled to her feet, swung her blade, and sliced off its head.
She turned to Terra, and saw him swinging his sword, battling two more creatures. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight; he was the bellator again, a knight of Requiem. He had shattered one creature's face, but it was still trying to bite. Memoria ran and slammed her sword into its head. Blood and maggoty brains spilled, but the creature only laughed.
Pain blazed on her calf. Memoria looked down, and saw the head she had severed. It was biting her. She screamed, kicked it off, and hacked at it. The head cackled. She stabbed again and again, breaking the head into a jaw, teeth, bits of skull, but still the head moved and gurgled and laughed. Memoria kicked the pieces into the hole in the ice, and they sank. The rest of the body kept creeping toward her. Memoria screamed, stabbed it, and kicked it into the hole. It floundered, and its fingers grabbed the rim of ice. She sliced them off and kicked them underwater.
Terra was swinging his sword, keeping the other two creatures at bay. His mouth was a grim line under his moustache. Frost covered his blade; it glinted like a shard of ice.
"Kyrie Eleison," the creatures hissed at him. "We come to kill you, Kyrie Eleison. Our lord, Dies Irae, commands that you die."
Memoria growled. How did these creatures know her dead brother's name? How dared they utter it? Memoria shouted, her heart racing, her head spinning. She leaped to her brother's defense. Their blades swung together. A severed arm leaped from the ice, clutched her shoulder, and scratched deep. Memoria ripped it off and tossed it underwater.
Terra was wounded too, she saw. Grooves ran down his armor, revealing bloody flesh. What kind of creatures can claw through steel? Still he fought, eyes narrowed, until the creatures were cut and crushed like butchered seals. The fingers, feet, heads, and other pieces kept writhing and trying to attack. Memoria and Terra kicked and stabbed, tossing them into the hole in the ice, where they sank.
Memoria kicked the last finger underwater, then leaned over, struggling for breath. Blood covered the ice. The stench of rot made her gag.
Kyrie.
She looked at Terra. Blood dripped from his wound. He stared back, silent.
Kyrie Eleison.
Tears stung Memoria's eyes.
"They... they spoke of Kyrie," she whispered and trembled. The memories flooded back, so powerful that her head spun, and for a moment she was back in Requiem, back in the war that had flooded her home.
"Kyrie!" she had cried, weeping, a youth who had seen too much fire and death. "Kyrie, where are you?"
The bodies had spread below her, thousands of them, covering Lanburg Fields. Where was her brother? Where was Kyrie?
"Kyrie!" Terra had cried too, searching the bodies with her, until they found the remains of a burned child, and wept over it, and buried it, and fled... fled here to exile, to endless ice, to endless memories.
Kyrie Eleison, the rotting demon had said.
Kyrie. My baby brother. The light of our family.
"What were those things?" she whispered, eyes stinging. She stared at the hole the creatures had emerged from. Her wounds ached and bled, but she ignored them. "Why did they speak of Kyrie?"
Terra's breath frosted before him. He stared darkly at the blood upon the ice. "They must be Dies Irae's new pets, something even worse than griffins. These creatures were built to kill Vir Requis. That's why we couldn't shift around them."
Memoria hugged herself. A chill washed over her, as if she'd swallowed too much snow. "So the war still rages. He's still hunting dragons."
Terra lowered his head and clenched his fists. Icicles were forming on his moustache. His voice was strained. "It's still going on. We've been hiding for eleven years, and the war still rages. And now it's here. He found us, Memoria. Dies Irae found us."
She shook her head, her heart racing, and she could barely see. Could it be? After these years... is it possible?
"The creatures were seeking Vir Requis, yes," she whispered. "But not you or me. They called me Agnus Dei. Does that name sound familiar?"
He stared at her. "Of course. Agnus Dei was our princess. I met her several times—a young girl with a mane of black curls. She gave me a favor, a single bluebell, before the battle of Draco Murus."
Memoria nodded. "You see, Terra? These creatures were seeking Requiem's survivors. We're not the only ones." Tears filled her eyes. Something halfway between sob and laughter fled her lips. "Others lived and fled into hiding too, Terra. The princess Agnus Dei did... and so did our brother."
KYRIE ELEISON
The mimics charged uphill, howling.
The Vir Requis fired their arrows. Shards of flame shot through the night. Screeches rose from the mimics, and two fell burning.
"Keep shooting!" Lacrimosa cried, an unnecessary command; they were all already nocking new arrows. Four more flaming arrows flew, and more mimics fell.
"Burn, that's right!" Kyrie shouted, excitement pounding through him. His fingers shook and his heart thrashed. The smoke stung his eyes and lungs, and the flames drenched him with sweat. He loaded a third arrow. This was no dragonfire, but it would do, he thought. He could still burn and kill these creatures.
A swarm of mimics reached the ring of fire that surrounded the ruins of Draco Murus. They tried to cross, but leaped back and hissed. The Vir Requis fired arrows through the flames, and the mimics screeched.
"Break the fire," howled their leader, the towering mimic with arms sewn together like strings of sausages. "Into the flames. Scatter them."
As Kyrie kept firing arrows, his stomach knotted. Mimics plunged into the ring of fire, tossing logs left and right. They burned, screamed, and fell. Others replaced them.
"Kill them, those ones!" Kyrie shouted and shot a arrow. He hit one mimic who was scattering the burning logs. His arrow entered its head, and it fell.
"Stack more logs, quick!" Lacrimosa shouted. She ran toward the broken ring of fire. Three mimics were stepping through it, grinning and drooling. They swiped their claws at Lacrimosa.
Kyrie ran, dropped his bow, and grabbed a torch. He swung it and clubbed one mimic's head. It screamed and lashed claws. Kyrie leaped back and swung his torch again, and the mimic burned. Bugs screamed and died inside it.
The twins leaped forward, thrusting burning javelins. Claw marks ran down Agnus Dei's thigh.
"Seal the ring of fire, stop them from entering!" Lacrimosa shouted, face flushed, hair damp with sweat. They all began tossing burning logs into the breach, and soon new flames crackled, showering sparks.
Screams rose behind them, and Kyrie spun around to see mimics breaching the ring twenty feet away.
"Over there!" he shouted. He grabbed a javelin, dipped its tip into the flames, and tossed it. The burning missile flew and sank into a mimic's chest. It screamed and fell.
The twins charged, screaming and swinging torches. They clubbed and burned mimics, who fell before them. Kyrie and Lacrimosa tossed flaming logs onto the new breach, sealing it.
The Vir Requis looked from side to side, panting and coughing. Smoke and sparks covered them. The mimics were now attacking a third location in the flaming ring.
"Shoot them down!" Lacrimosa shouted, voice hoarse. They grabbed their fallen bows, loaded more arrows, and shot. Mimics fell and rolled down the mountainside, blazing. The stench of smoke and rot filled the night.
"Look!" Kyrie shouted. He pointed across the courtyard to the western side of Draco Murus. "They're over there too, more mimics. Lacrimosa, with me! We'll guard the west."
Leaving the twins to defend the eastern mountainside, Kyrie ran with Lacrimosa across the ruins. The ring of fire was thinner here; they had expected the bulk of the attack from the east, whence the mimics had travelled. And yet a dozen of the creatures were attacking the flames here. Their eyes blazed, and their grins oozed drool thick with worms.
Lungs burning, Kyrie shot more arrows, hitting the creatures, but more kept coming. His stomach curdled. They were low on arrows; he had only five left in his quiver. He shot one more, but missed and cursed.
"Girls, you all right?" he shouted while nocking another arrow.
Agnus Dei shouted from across the courtyard. "They're breaching two places. They're pouring in!"
Kyrie cursed, coughed, and spat. His eyes burned with the smoke; he could barely see. He shot an arrow, hit a mimic, and spun around. He loaded another arrow and saw two mimics charging across the courtyard. He shot, hit one, but the other reached him before he could reload. Its claws swiped, and Kyrie leaped back. It jumped onto him and bit his shoulder.
Kyrie screamed, wrestled it off, and reached for a flaming log. Fire scorched his hand, and he shouted but managed to swing the burning stick. It hit the mimic's face.
Kyrie jumped to his feet. His hand throbbed. Mimics were breaching the flaming ring beside him; Lacrimosa was swinging a torch, holding them back. Kyrie nocked an arrow, fired, and hit the mimic closest to her. He grabbed another arrow, fired again, hit another 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 arms.
Kyrie's heart leaped. He charged forward with his torch. Agnus Dei and Lacrimosa ran too, screaming and waving torches.
The severed arm squirmed toward them, leaped from the ground, and slammed against their chests.
Lacrimosa fell and knocked into Agnus Dei, who knocked into Kyrie. Gloriae charged at the mimic, but it swung its remaining arm and drove her back. Its blade whirled.
The severed arm squirmed, and its hand caught Lacrimosa's hair. It pulled her to her feet. Lacrimosa wriggled and tried to pry herself loose, but could not. Unnaturally strong, the arm tugged her toward the body it had been attached to. The creature snarled at her, spraying her with drool.
"Lacrimosa," it hissed. "I was made with the blood of your husband." It spat a glob of blood onto her chest. "Do you recognize it? My master took it from his blade."
Agnus Dei, screaming and weeping, ran forward. She barrelled into the mimic, and it fell. It howled and its teeth sank into Agnus Dei's shoulder, but she seemed not to notice. She grabbed its head and slammed it against the floor again and again. The skull cracked, and centipedes spilled from it.
Gloriae slammed her blade down, severing the mimic's second link of arms. Kyrie set fire to it. The arms squirmed and screamed like a blazing snake.
Lacrimosa still struggled with the first severed arm; it was clutching her throat now. Kyrie rushed forward, set it ablaze, and its fingers opened. Lacrimosa breathed raggedly.
"Agnus Dei!" she whispered, hoarse.
The mimic's head had shattered. Blood and bone fragments spread across the cobblestones. And yet its jaw would not release Agnus Dei's shoulder. Kyrie grabbed the jaw, twisted, and managed to pry it off. He tossed it down and stomped on it until the teeth broke off.
Agnus Dei was screaming and sobbing. She drew her sword and began stabbing the mimic's torso, again and again. Its legs kicked and cockroaches fled from it.
"You have to burn it!" Gloriae said, but Agnus Dei seemed not to hear. She kept stabbing and weeping and screaming.
Kyrie touched her shoulder, but she seemed not to notice him.
"Agnus Dei," he said. "Kitten."
She spun toward him, eyes red and puffy. "It said... about Father, did you hear? It said...."
"It was lying, Agnus Dei," Kyrie said. "Don't listen to it." He handed her a torch. "Burn its body, Agnus Dei. Finish it."
Agnus Dei took the torch and stared down at the mimic. There was nothing left but twitching legs and a shredded torso.
A voice rose from it.
Kyrie gasped. How could it still speak? And yet its blood bubbled, and strange, gurgling words rose from it.
"We will... return... more of us... thousands... we will make you mimics too...."
Agnus Dei tossed the torch onto it.
The remains caught fire, and a scream rose from them, high-pitched. Kyrie covered his ears and grimaced. The scream went on and on, and the ruins shook.
Finally silence fell.
Kyrie breathed out shakily.
His wounds ached, his lungs burned, and he nearly collapsed.
"It's over," he said hoarsely. Agnus Dei crashed into his arms, and he held her. Gloriae and Lacrimosa joined the embrace. Blood and ash covered them.
"We beat them," Kyrie whispered into the embrace. Agnus Dei's hair surrounded his face like a pillow, scented of smoke. "We defended our home."
He looked to the eastern horizon. Red wisps spread across it. Dawn had arrived. It looked to Kyrie like rivers of blood.
One battle had ended. The war against the mimics, he knew, was only beginning.