MEMORIA
They flew over plains of ice, snow, and rock. The clouds stretched like fingers above them.
"Remember your training," Terra said. Frost and icicles covered his bronze scales. "We've killed griffins. We can kill giants."
Memoria nodded. She let fire fill her mouth and dance between her teeth. Yes, she had fought, and she had killed. She had blown her fire, and lashed her claws, and bitten with her fangs. She had let blood wash her.
"We can kill giants," she agreed.
Her wings were steady and her jaw tight, but her insides trembled. Would giants beg for mercy too? Would they look at her with wide, terrified eyes like the boy she had killed? And, when their eyes met hers, would she find only hatred in her heart and fire on her breath?
Memoria stared ahead at the plains of ice and rock. No. Do not remember that boy. You had to kill him. If he was old enough to ride a griffin, and old enough to kill dragons, he was old enough to die. Giants will not have such large, frightened eyes.
They flew for hours. They crossed leagues. They soared over plains of ice, snow, and black boulders; over seas where whales swam; over icebergs where seals would once gather and now only snow whispered. They flew through wind and cloud. Frost covered their scales and icicles hung from their mouths. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime of flying, they saw the Jet Mountains ahead.
They rose like fortresses, black as memory. No snow covered them. Their surfaces were polished, like shards of black glass glued together. When the light caught them, it nearly blinded Memoria. She remembered Amberus's parting words. The Giant King lives upon the mountaintop. It's him you must face. He has Adoria's Hands.
"Remember your training," Terra repeated. "We've killed griffins. We can kill gia—."
A howl tore the air.
Memoria narrowed her eyes, and her heart pounded. She looked around but saw nothing.
"Giants," she whispered.
Terra nodded. "Keep flying."
The Jet Mountains were getting closer. The sunlight blazed against them, shooting toward the two dragons. Memoria grimaced and squinted. She could barely see.
The howl rose again. A second, then a third howl answered it. The mountain seemed to shake. Memoria covered her ears. The howls were deep, guttural, and ached in her chest. Memoria had heard armies of griffins shriek, but she had never heard anything so loud, so cruel, a sound like tumbling boulders.
"Do you see them?" she called over the roars.
Terra flew beside her, eyes narrowed. The light from the mountains turned his bronze scales white. He growled and blew fire.
"No!" he called back. "They've seen us. They—"
"Terra!"
Something came flying through the light toward them. She could barely see it. She grabbed Terra and pulled him down. Air whooshed above them.
"What was that?" Terra cried.
"Fly up! Higher."
They soared and emerged from the blinding light. Snow and ice rolled beneath them. When she looked ahead, she saw the Jet Mountains closer than she'd ever seen them. Shadows raced across them. Panes of stone moved, and light drenched her again.
"They're using some kind of stone mirrors," Terra said and cursed.
The giants' howls rose. A boulder flew from the mountains, tumbling through the beams of light toward them.
"Watch out!" she cried. She swerved right. Terra swerved left. The boulder passed between them, flames coiling around it.
"Not the most pleasant welcoming," Terra said.
Memoria flew higher, shooting up in a straight line. The air grew thin and cold. She could barely breathe. She looked down and saw giants scurrying across the mountainsides, adjusting their stone mirrors. Memoria had always imagined giants to be slow, lumbering beasts, but these creatures were so fast, her eyes barely caught them.
"Higher, Terra!" she shouted. "Fly out of their boulders' range."
He flew beside her, and they kept soaring, until Memoria gasped for breath, and darkness clawed at the corners of her eyes. She had never flown so high.
Are we safe? she wondered... then saw more boulders flying toward her.
She cursed and swerved, but a boulder hit her leg. She screamed. Pain blazed, and tears sprang into her eyes. More boulders flew. She dived, whipped around them, and swooped.
"New plan," she growled, the wind roaring around her. "Let's burn the bastards."
Terra swooped beside her, flames dancing between his teeth. The giants howled below them. Beams of light blazed, nearly blinding Memoria. The clouds swirled. From the mountains, twenty flaming boulders came flying.
Memoria spun. Three boulders missed her. One grazed her back. A second boulder slammed against her wing. She screamed and tumbled, plummeting toward the mountains.
"Terra!"
More boulders flew. Though her wing blazed, she forced herself to fly. She dipped sideways just in time. Boulders shot around her, their flames licking her. She swerved, dived, spun, and swooped.
"Memoria! Fly with me."
Terra swooped beside her, claws outstretched. His scales were chipped along his left side. They veered left and right, up and down, dodging the boulders. The beams of light kept hitting them, blinding them. A boulder hit her tail, and she screamed, but kept swooping. She saw two giants scurrying across the mountain beneath her.
She was close enough.
She blew flame.
The giants leaped behind boulders. Her flames rained against the mountain. The giants screamed.
Terra blew his own fire. The flames hit the mountainside and cascaded like a river of lava. A giant burst out from behind the boulders, hair blazing, a club in his hands.
For an instant, Memoria faltered. It was the first giant she had seen up close. He's hideous. The giant stood thirty feet tall, each foot covered in boils and coarse white hair. He wore only a ragged loincloth, and a stench of stale sweat rose from him. His nose was bulbous and red, sprouting white hair from the nostrils. Crooked teeth, each the size of a sword, grew from his mouth. His eyes were small and mean, the color of dried blood.
Howling, the giant swung his club at her.
Memoria flew backwards and blew flame.
The inferno hit the giant. He screamed and fell back, skin crackling.
"Watch out!" Terra said, grabbed her, and pulled her down. They landed on the mountainside. A boulder flew overhead, missing them by an inch.
Terra shot a jet of flame. A giant screamed behind Memoria. Three more giants ran ahead, boulders raised in their hands.
Memoria bathed them with fire. Two dropped their boulders. A third tossed his. Memoria leaped aside, and the missile grazed her shoulder. She grunted with pain. Her leg still throbbed.
"I don't like this," Terra said. Memoria whipped her head from side to side. A hundred giants were emerging from holes, tunnels, and the cover of stone outcrops. They bore clubs studded with bones, boulders that crackled with fire, and gleaming stone daggers. They climbed from below, from above, from each side.
"Fly!" Memoria said and leaped into the air. She flapped her wings as fast as she could. "Over the mountaintop."
Terra flew beside her. Boulders shot after them. One hit Terra's wing. He howled.
"Terra!" Memoria cried. She spat fire down at the giants and flew to her brother. He was wincing, but still flying. She held him and helped him fly higher. All around them, the barrage of stone continued. Memoria swerved, dodging most of the boulders. One slammed into her side, knocking the breath out of her. Pain bloomed. She could not breathe. She could not see.
No, don't kill me! the boy had cried. I beg you, please. I have parents and a sister. Please. Please....
Only a boy. No older than fifteen. A boy with scared eyes, with soft cheeks that had never grown stubble. A boy in armor. A boy riding a griffin. A boy who flew for Dies Irae, who killed and destroyed.
He is old enough to die.
She burned him.
He screamed. He screamed for what seemed like eternity.
Die already, stop screaming and die! Memoria wanted to cry, but she only watched him burn, until finally he screamed no more. A boy. With parents, with a sister. Silenced.
"Memoria!"
She wept. "I had to do it. I had to."
"Memoria! Fly! Fly!"
Her eyes snapped open. Terra was shaking her, struggling to fly with one hurt wing. Boulders still flew around them, and giants howled. Memoria gritted her teeth and flew.
They soared up the mountainside. Their reflections raced along the smooth, black stones—one green dragon, one bronze. More giants emerged from holes and behind rocks. There were thousands.
Blue sky burst before her. They reached the mountaintop, flew over it, and saw the city of giants.
Memoria's breath died.
LACRIMOSA
"No more tears," she whispered to herself. "Now is my turn to be strong. To lead. For our children, Ben. For you."
She stood under the orphaned archway, above the ruins of the fort where they made their home. The wind streamed her hair, kissed her cheeks with snow, and whispered of the growing threat in the east. There will be war, she knew. Dies Irae knew they were here; she did not doubt that now. Hundreds of mimics would march here. Blood would spill.
"Mother," Agnus Dei said. She came to stand beside her. Her mop of curls was white with snow. Her clothes were tattered, and bandages covered her wounds. Shadows filled her eyes, and she looked too thin to Lacrimosa, too weary, too haunted.
"Are you eating, Agnus Dei? You look thin."
She narrowed her eyes. "We're mustering forces for war, and that's what you worry about? That I'm not eating?" She sighed. "Mothers will be mothers."
The snow flurried. Lacrimosa shielded her eyes with her palm and stared down the mountainsides. Their forces seemed too few. They cannot stop the tide, she thought. Am I mad to stay here? Am I mad to make a stand? Will this be another Lanburg Fields?
"We used every Animating Stone we have," Lacrimosa said. "One hundred and twenty. Will it be enough?"
The stone dragon she had animated stood on the eastern hillside, unmoving, a sentinel of stone. Kyrie and Agnus Dei had animated three more statues. The stone maiden stood to the north, the warrior to the south, the king to the west.
Between them stood over a hundred warriors carved from the smashed columns of Requiem. They were crude figures; they had only the rough shapes of men, their surfaces craggy. The four true statues had carved them, and they were ugly things, but Animating Stones pulsed within them. They lived. They would fight.
"Time for dinner," Kyrie announced, climbing out from the cellars. He held two steaming bowls. "I cooked. Gloriae helped a bit. Tonight we have a delicious, lovingly simmered stew of turnips, oats, and sausages."
Gloriae emerged from the cellars behind him, holding two more bowls. "Kyrie, have we eaten anything but turnips, oats, and sausage stew for the past month?"
He nodded, handing out bowls. "Yesterday was more of a soup, what with all the water you added."
"Soup with some Gloriae hairs added for flavor," Agnus Dei muttered. "I nearly choked on one. Sister, you might be the deadliest warrior among us, and you are also the deadliest cook."
Soon the four sat in the courtyard, wrapped in their cloaks, eating as the sunset painted the world red. Lacrimosa was glad to see them eating hungrily, even Agnus Dei. They'll need what strength they can get, she thought. More than ever.
As they ate, the statues moved across the mountainsides, arranging firewood in a ring around the ruins. Fire and stone, Lacrimosa thought, watching the statues work. This is how we fight in the ruin of the world. This is all we have left. Fire and stone.
She looked at her children, one by one. Agnus Dei, of fiery eyes, of skinned knees, of grumbles and tears and kisses and flames. She looks so much like Ben. And Gloriae... her lost daughter, finally returned. Gloriae, of icy green eyes, of pain, of fear, of hidden love and light. Finally, Lacrimosa looked at Kyrie, who was like a son to her now. Kyrie, the boy who'd survived Lanburg Fields; no, not a boy but a man now, full grown, a man who would father her grandchildren.
I will protect them, Ben, she thought and looked up to the sky. I won't let them die.
They were still eating when howls sounded in the distance.
They froze. Lacrimosa lowered her spoon, rose to her feet, and stared east.
"We can't even enjoy one good meal," Agnus Dei said. She grabbed a torch from the ground. "My stars."
The howls rose, some deep and guttural like dying boars, others high like the screeches of ghosts.
"Weredragons!" they cried. "We will eat you alive. We will have your heads."
Lacrimosa drew an arrow from her quiver, tightened the kindling around its tip, and lit it. She walked toward the eastern ruins of the fort, to war, to blood.
"Fire and stone," she whispered. "They fight for us today."
She stepped onto the remaining few bricks of the fort's wall and saw the mimic army.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
"Bloody stars," Kyrie said, coming to stand beside her, bow in hand.
Even Gloriae, always stony like a statue, seemed shaken. She gritted her teeth.
"So many," she whispered.
Agnus Dei snorted, blowing back a curl of her hair. "Come on, we can take em," she said, but Lacrimosa noticed that the girl's fingers trembled around her bow.
She returned her eyes to the mimics. A hundred had attacked Draco Murus last time, and nearly killed them. A thousand now howled ahead, charging through the snow. Their stench carried on the wind, the stench of rot and worms and old blood. They bore swords and shields. A towering mimic ran at their lead, his legs like stilts, his arms ape-like and swinging.
"Weredragons!" this leader of mimics howled. "Your heads are mine."
Lacrimosa smiled a crooked, mirthless smile.
"Let them taste fire first," she said. "Then stone."
She loosed her arrow.
The three young Vir Requis gave wordless cries and shot three more arrows.
The flaming missiles flew through the sky, and each hit a rotting torso. Those mimics screamed, pulled the arrows out, and kept running.
"Damn," Agnus Dei said. "These ones are tougher than the last."
Lacrimosa nodded. "We'll see how much fire they can take."
She ran toward the ring of firewood, which surrounded the fort, and lit it. It crackled into life at once, flowing around the fort like a flaming serpent. The mimics screamed and kept charging.
Lacrimosa climbed onto a pile of fallen bricks. She saw the horde closer now, three hundred yards away. She shot an arrow and hit a mimic's shield. It kept running.
"Statues of Requiem!" Lacrimosa shouted. The statues stood outside the ring, unmoving. Kyrie and the twins were still firing arrows, but their missiles did not faze the mimics.
"Statues, hear me!" Lacrimosa shouted. "I am Lacrimosa, wife of King Benedictus, Queen of Requiem. Fight for Requiem. Fight the enemy, tear them apart, destroy them! Fight them now."
The statues began to move. They walked slowly, limbs creaking. The crude statues, those carved from the columns, barely moved at all.
"Charge at them!" Lacrimosa shouted. "Give them no mercy. Fight for the Draco stars, for the rebirth of your home."
They began to move faster. Soon they were running. Their feet thundered, kicked up snow and dirt, and they shouted. Their cries were like cracking stone, like weeping forests, like the pain of Requiem. It sounded almost like the deep, mournful cries of dragons.
"Fire, then stone," Lacrimosa whispered, and watched the statues crash into the army of mimics.
Blood, chips of stone, and gobbets of flesh flew. There were ten mimics for each statue. The rotting creatures hacked at the marble warriors, breaking off arms, heads, and legs. The mimics were made of flesh, but their blows bore the strength of ancient magic. The marble statues swung at them, their arms tearing through rotted flesh, scattering limbs and heads. Black blood and rot sprayed the snow.
Hope filled Lacrimosa. We can do this. We can defend our home.
Then she heard cries that chilled her blood.
"For Requiem!" Gloriae cried. She brandished her sword in one hand, a torch in the other.
"For Queen Lacrimosa!" cried Agnus Dei and Kyrie, raising their own swords and torches.
The three youths leaped over the fiery ring, howled, and charged into battle.
"No!" Lacrimosa shouted, horror clutching at her. "Stay with me. Here!"
They did not hear. Swinging their weapons, the youths crashed into the battle and began hacking at mimics.
Lacrimosa cursed and began running across the courtyard. Stupid children! They had raised warriors of stone so they would not have to fight themselves. If the mimics don't kill them, I will.
She reached the ring of fire. The flames rose around her, blocking her view. They were lower in one spot; that was where the youths had jumped out to battle. Cursing, Lacrimosa jumped over the fire and ran toward battle. The children might be dumber than doorknobs, but I must protect them.
She drew Stella Lumen, her father's sword. Its blade hissed and reflected the firelight. Two mimics rushed at her, pus oozing from the stitches that held them together. They swung jagged blades.
Lacrimosa was no soldier. She had not trained in swordplay like Gloriae. But she had fought enough battles to muster courage if not skill. She parried left and right, screaming. She swung a torch in her left hand, her blade in the right. She let them taste steel and fire. They fell back.
"Daughters!" she called. "Kyrie! Back to the fort. Do not meet them in open battle."
She could not see them. Everywhere around her, the statues and mimics fought. Severed mimic limbs crawled across the battlefield, clutching her boots. She stomped them and burned them with her torch.
"Requiem!" Kyrie called somewhere in the distance, his voice nearly drowned under the roar of battle. Lacrimosa did not know what she craved more; to kill mimics, or to clobber the boy over the head.
A mimic skirted around two statues and raced toward her. Lacrimosa cursed and raised her blade. The mimic was shaped as a monstrous centaur. Its lower half was a headless, rotting man running on all fours. Sewn onto the man's shoulders, rose the nude torso, arms, and head of a woman. Her hair was made of snakes, and her teeth were jagged metal. In each hand, the rotting woman wielded an axe.
Horror, white and burning, spread through Lacrimosa. She tightened her grip on her sword.
"Stella Lumen, burn with the light of stars," Lacrimosa whispered, holding the blade before her. "Father, be with me today."
The strange centaur charged toward her, squealed, and swung an axe.
Lacrimosa dropped to her knees and slid forward through the snow. The axe whistled over her head. As she slid, Lacrimosa swung her blade and cut the mimic's leg.
It screeched, a sound that seemed to shake the mountain. Snow cascaded. Lacrimosa leaped to her feet, and the mimic charged toward her. It swung both axes at her head. She leaped back. The centaur raced toward her.
Lacrimosa lobbed her torch. It hit the centaur's upper half, then fell into the snow. The mimic screamed. Its chest reddened and crackled. Before it could recover, Lacrimosa shouted, ran toward it, and swung her blade.
Stella Lumen opened the creature's stomach. Snakes spilled from it like entrails. They squirmed around Lacrimosa's feet, hissing.
An axe swung. Lacrimosa parried and sparks flew. She thrust her sword and hit the mimic's neck.
Blood showered. The mimic screamed. Lacrimosa slashed again, and the mimic fell. She stabbed it again and again, but still it kicked and squealed.
Fire. Lacrimosa thought. I need fire.
Her torch had extinguished in the snow. She grabbed it, looked up, and saw Agnus Dei fighting beside her. A mimic with four arms was attacking her. Lacrimosa ran and touched her torch to her daughter's. It crackled back into flame.
"Agnus Dei, you are the most numbskulled girl I've ever seen!" Lacrimosa shouted.
Agnus Dei grunted. "Not now, Mother. I'm busy."
The centaur mimic, lacerated and burned, was struggling to rise. Worms squirmed across it. Lacrimosa ran and shoved the torch against its head. The snakes of its hair caught fire, and soon the entire creature burned. It twisted and screeched in the snow.
Lacrimosa did not stay to watch it die. She ran back toward Agnus Dei, and found that the girl had slain the four-armed mimic. Statues and mimics still battled around them.
"Where's your sister?" she cried. "Where's Kyrie?"
Agnus Dei pointed. "There."
The two were fighting back to back, five mimics surrounding them. Beyond them, dozens of mimics and statues lay smashed and burned. Dozens more still fought in every direction.
"Gloriae! Kyrie!" Lacrimosa called. "Back to the fort."
She ran toward them. Agnus Dei ran too. With swords and torches, they slew mimics that clawed and bit from each side.
"Back to safety," Lacrimosa commanded, her head pounding, her limbs shaking. "The statues will finish our work here."
Cuts and scrapes covered the youths. They nodded, panting, and began heading back uphill.
A thundering howl rose before them.
Snow cascaded.
A great mimic came running downhill toward them, shoving aside statues and other mimics. It towered over the others on freakishly long legs, and had hairy arms that rippled with muscles. When it opened its mouth to scream, it revealed sharp teeth like a wolf's. It seemed sewn from three bodies—the legs of one, the arms of another, and the torso and head of a third. In each hand, it held a flanged mace.
The mimic's leader, Lacrimosa remembered.
"Kyrie! Agnus Dei!" she yelled. "Attack it from its right. Gloriae! We'll take its left side."
The mimic grinned. Drool dripped down its chin and steamed when it hit the snow. With a mocking howl, it swung its maces.
Lacrimosa leaped back, but Gloriae charged and swung her sword. A mace hit her breastplate and dented it. Gloriae cried and fell.
"Gloriae!" Lacrimosa cried. She ran and swung Stella Lumen at the mimic.
It swung its mace, and Lacrimosa ducked and raised her arm to protect her face. The mace hit her vambrace, and she screamed. One flange dented the steel and bit her arm.
"Mother!" Agnus Dei cried and attacked at the mimic's other side. She swung her torch at it, but it lashed its mace, holding her back.
"Lacrimosa, down!" Kyrie said, nocking a flaming arrow.
She fell to her knees, and the arrow flew over her head. It slammed into the mimic, plunged through its chest, and extinguished. The mimic grinned and ran toward Kyrie, swinging its maces.
Kyrie shot another arrow. He hit the mimic, but the creature only grunted and kept charging. Lacrimosa and Agnus Dei slammed their swords against its back, but the cuts did not slow it.
Was Gloriae alive? Lacrimosa had no time to check. The mimic reached Kyrie and swung a mace. Kyrie ducked, and the mace glanced off his helmet. He fell into the snow and his eyes closed.
"Pup!" Agnus Dei screamed, eyes widening. She jumped onto the mimic's back and pushed it into the snow. She began slamming her sword's pommel into its head. The mimic thrashed and howled.
Lacrimosa ran. The mimic rose to its feet and shook Agnus Dei off. It dropped one mace, clutched Agnus Dei's throat, and began to squeeze.
"Let her go," Lacrimosa said, snarled, and swung her blade. Stella Lumen severed the mimic's arm with a shower of blood and starlight.
Agnus Dei fell to her knees, scratching at the hand that still clutched her throat. Lacrimosa helped pry the fingers loose. Agnus Dei sucked in breath and coughed. Her face was deep red.
"Behind you!" she managed to say.
Lacrimosa spun around and hurled her torch. She hit the advancing mimic in the face. It howled, dropped its second mace, and brushed the sparks off its face.
"Pup, pup, get up!" Agnus Dei was crying, shaking Kyrie. The boy was coughing and struggling to rise. Hurt but alive, Lacrimosa thought in relief. What of Gloriae?
The mimic lashed its remaining arm at her. Lacrimosa ducked and swung her sword. She sliced the creature's elbow. It snarled and reached its claws toward her.
A flaming arrow slammed into its head.
Gloriae came walking downhill, already nocking a second arrow. Her eyes were ice, her face emotionless. The wind streamed her hair. She drew the bowstring.
My daughter. She's alive. Such relief swept over Lacrimosa, that her eyes blurred.
The mimic screeched.
Gloriae shot her second arrow. It pierced the mimic's neck, and it fell to its knees.
Lacrimosa stepped toward it. It snarled, oozing pus and rot.
"Fire," she told it. "Stone. And steel."
Lacrimosa swung her blade and severed its head.
The other Vir Requis burned its body with their torches, until it did not move. But Lacrimosa held onto the head, keeping it at arm's length. It shouted and snapped its teeth. An arrow still thrust out of it.
"We will keep this piece alive," she said. "Now back to the fort."
Holding the head, she raced up the mountainside. The other Vir Requis followed. Around them, as if disheartened by the loss of their leader, the mimics were falling fast. The statues were tearing into them, killing them left and right. Only twenty statues remained standing; the rest were smashed and lay still on the ground. Many lay in pieces no longer than a foot.
The Vir Requis stepped back into the ruins, looked down the mountainside, and watched the statues kill the last mimics. Lacrimosa tossed the severed mimic head onto the cobblestones, then turned to face the youths.
"You three are the stupidest Vir Requis who ever lived. If Ben were here, he'd clobber you harder than the mimics."
Lacrimosa had promised herself she would stop weeping; she could no longer cry, not now, Benedictus having left her to lead. Tonight she could not help it. The tears filled her eyes, and she embraced Kyrie and her daughters.
"Never do anything so foolishly brave again," she said as she embraced them. "I love you too much to see it."
Agnus Dei squirmed in the embrace. "Mother, really."
They broke apart and breathed deeply. Lacrimosa's body ached. The fire crackled in the night, raising sparks like fireflies.
Laughter sounded in the shadows.
Lacrimosa turned and saw the severed mimic head. It lay on the cobblestones, glaring at her. Its sharp teeth reflected the firelight as it cackled.
"You have won this battle," the mimic said and spat out blood. "You killed a thousand of us. Fifty thousand are gathering as we speak. With each he builds, our master makes us larger, stronger, smarter. You cannot win, weredragons."
Lacrimosa walked toward the head. She pointed her sword at it.
"Where do the others gather?" she asked. "Where does Dies Irae find the Animating Stones?"
It cackled and spat at her. Its gob of spit landed on her boot.
Lacrimosa placed the tip of her sword against its face, but did not break the skin.
"Talk to me," she said, "or you will die."
It cackled. "Kill me, weredragon. It will not save you."
Lacrimosa felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Gloriae. The young woman was covered in blood, ash, and mimic gore. She stared down at the head, her eyes emotionless, her face as cold as one of the statues.
"I will make it talk," she said, her voice strangely soft. "Mother, take Agnus Dei and Kyrie into the cellars. Leave me with it. I promise you; it will tell me all it knows."
Lacrimosa shivered. What would Gloriae do? Had she tortured prisoners before? Lacrimosa did not want to think about it, did not want to imagine what skills Dies Irae had taught her daughter.
"Gloriae, are you sure?" she whispered.
The young woman nodded, eyes icy.
Lacrimosa looked away. Her eyes stung. I must be strong. For you, Ben. For our home. She took a deep breath.
"Agnus Dei," she said. "Kyrie. Come with me underground. We'll bandage your wounds. Gloriae will join us soon."
As they walked downstairs into shadows, Lacrimosa looked back one more time at Gloriae. The wind billowed her daughter's hair, swirling snow around her. Then Lacrimosa stepped into the cellars and saw nothing but darkness.
GLORIAE
She stood among the ruins, staring down the mountainside at the battlefield. A thousand mimics lay burned and torn apart. Nearly a hundred statues lay smashed. The last few statues, including the stone dragon, were searching for mimic body parts and crushing them.
It smells wrong, Gloriae thought. I was raised to savor the smell of fresh blood. To dream of it, crave it. Yet here I fight, in a field of rot and stone.
She raised her eyes from the carnage and stared into the eastern horizon. Dawn was rising, sending pink tendrils across a cloudy sky. Beyond that horizon lay home. What used to be my home, at least. The empire of Osanna lay many leagues from here, across crumbled cities, burned fields, and wilted forests. The nightshades had ravaged it, but Dies Irae still ruled over the ruins.
"He's still out there somewhere," Gloriae whispered into the wind. "The man I called Father. The man who banished me. The man I will kill."
Hoarse laughter sounded behind her. Gloriae turned. The severed mimic head lay on the cobblestones, oozing its juices. It cackled, eyes mocking her.
"You will not kill Dies Irae," it said, coughed, and spat. "He has a new body waiting for you, Gloriae the Gilded. Yes, I know your name. And I know your fate. He will cut off your head, and sew it onto a new body, and turn you into a mimic. Then he will let a thousand other mimics thrust inside you, until you bleed and beg for a death that will never come."
Gloriae stared at it silently, waiting for it to finish speaking.
"You like talking," she said. "That is good. You will talk more. You will tell me everything you know."
It spat a glob of maggoty saliva. "I know that you will be a slave to mimics."
"How lovely," Gloriae said. "But enough about me. Let's talk about you, my toothy friend. Tell me about that Animating Stone that gave you life. Where did Irae find it?"
She knelt before the head, torch crackling.
"Will you torture me now?" it asked. "Burn me? Cut me? Pull out my teeth? Do it. I fear no pain."
A centipede emerged from its mouth and scurried along the cobblestones. Gloriae watched it flee into shadows, then stared into the mimic's eyes.
"Pain won't make you talk. Memories might." She narrowed her eyes, examining it. "Who were you?"
It cackled. "I am mimic. I am death and despair. I am rot and worm. I am your future."
Gloriae shook her head. "That is what you are now. Who were you once?"
It glared at her. "Weak."
"Life," she said. "You were life once. Real life."
It coughed blood onto her boots. "What would you know of life? I know you. All beings do. You killed children when you yourself were a child. You killed countless in your chase of weredragons. You unleashed the nightshades. You destroyed the world."
Gloriae stared at it with dry eyes. Stay strong. No feelings. No pain.
"Yes," she said. "I am a giver of death. I deal in blood and steel. I have killed many, and I will kill many more before they burn my body in a great pyre." She touched the mimic's head, leaned down, and whispered to it. "But I was not always a killer. Once I too was life. I too was a child."
The head hissed and tried to bite her fingers. "You will beg for death, mortal. You will be one of us. You—"
"You were a child too once," she said. "You were a boy."
"I am mimic! I am stronger than life. You will join us. You—"
She clutched its cheeks, lifted the head, and stared at it levelly. "Who were you? You have rotted less than the others. You were killed fresh. Who were you in life?"
"Teeth!" it screeched. "I— No. I am only death, I..."
She brought its face close to hers. "Teeth? What does that mean?"
"They... Teeth! Legs. Rot Gang, and Arms. He betrayed us. He had to die. I had to kill him. Teeth! It hurts, Teeth. It hurts. He hit our head with his mace. He lied to us. Silver! I brought you death, I brought you rot, we are Rot Gang. We are three. Pay me my silver."
She shook the head. "Who was to pay you? Who hurt you? Was it Dies Irae?"
Blood filled the mimic's eyes and flowed down its cheeks like tears. "Do not speak of him! He will hurt us again. He wields a fist of steel. He hit our head. He killed our Legs. He.... He...." The head trembled in her hands.
"What did he do?" Gloriae demanded. "Did he kill you?"
The creature wept its tears of blood. More blood poured between its sharp teeth. "I have teeth. Sharp teeth. Teeth, they call me. I had to kill Arms. Long arms, he had, arms for silver, silver coins, that's what I asked of him. But... his fist of steel. He took my head. He hurt Legs. It burns! He burns us."
Gloriae held the head steady, though its blood covered her hands. "He killed you," she whispered. "And he made you into a mimic."
The head shook. "No, master! Not the needles. Not the strings. It burns in our chest, the stone. Not his legs! Give him back his legs. I don't want them. Not his arms, please. I don't want his arms. I killed him for silver, not arms. Where are my legs? Where are my arms? The needle burns!"
Gloriae stared at the weeping, trembling, bloody creature. Was this what Dies Irae planned for her too? To kill her and sew others' parts onto her?
"How many were you?" she said.
"Three. Rot Gang. Rot. We deal in death and silver. Not needles. No, please not needles, and not stones that burn."
She shook the head. "Animating Stones. Where are they from? Where is he finding them?"
"I must serve him. I must kill for him. I must never betray him. He will hurt us, Arms. He will cut us. He will burn us, Legs. We must not tell her. We must never speak of the stones."
"You will speak," Gloriae said. "You will tell me everything."
It cackled, spraying saliva. "You cannot hurt us like he did."
Gloriae shook her head. "No. I cannot. But I can end your pain, Teeth. I can free you. I can separate you from Legs and Arms."
It froze.
Its breath died.
For a long moment, it stared at her with narrowed eyes.
"We... we were Teeth once. We do not want his legs. We do not want his arms. They scream inside me. They still burn! I hear their voices in my skull. Free them from me. Cut them off me! Cut them off. I will speak to you then."
Gloriae glared. "First you will speak to me. Then I will end your pain. Then you will be a boy again, only Teeth. No more mimic."
It wept like a child. "Only Teeth. No Legs. No Arms. No silver. No rot. Just Teeth. Only Teeth, Rot Gang, yes."
"Will you speak?"
It nodded, seeming to wilt in her hands. "We will speak of stones, yes. Animating Stones. Things that burn. Stones of fire; they bind us, they move us. They serve him. Oh, they serve him, Arms. They do not stop. We cannot stop it inside us, clawing us, moving us."
Gloriae narrowed her eyes. "Where did Dies Irae find them?"
The bloody tears kept flowing; Gloriae could not believe it had so much blood. "I have seen them, Arms. Yes, I have. A wagon driving through the city. A wagon that glowed red. Animating Stones were there! They took them into his dungeon, Legs. He took one. He put it inside us. He took my legs. He took my arms. He used yours, he sewed us together, Rot Gang, no silver, only mimic. Only mimic."
"Where did the wagon come from?"
"A mine! A mine in a burned forest. A mine where Animating Stones glow. A mine of mimics, yes. A mine of stones. A mine of pain, and death, and rot. Rot Gang. Free them! Cut them off me. Cut off his legs. Cut off his arms."
Gloriae dug her fingers into the head. "Not yet. Where is the mine?"
It bared its bloody teeth. "Master would laugh of it. The same forest, he said, where the weredragon king once hid. He mined for Animating Stones in a crater, a crater where no trees could grow, and where the earth sank. And he laughed, Arms. Yes, how he laughed."
"The weredragon king? Do you mean Benedictus? Is the mine in Hostias Forest, where Benedictus once hid?"
The head coughed and trembled. "We don't know, Legs, do we? We don't know, Arms. Hostias Forest, he called it, yes, right under the crater where King Weredragon hid. And he laughed. But we only screamed. Our stone burns. It burns us. He hurt us. He laughed and sewed us. Free us!"
Gloriae tossed the head aside. She turned to leave.
Hostias Forest. The crater. Gloriae clenched her jaw. The place she had burned when hunting Benedictus and Kyrie. She would have to return there.
"You promised!" the head screamed behind her. "She promised to free us, Legs. She promised to make us Teeth again, to make us Rot Gang."
Gloriae drew an arrow and lit it with her tinderbox. She nocked the arrow in her bow.
"You lied!" the head shrieked, eyes blazing. "You swore to free them, to cut them off!"
Gloriae shut one eye, drew, and aimed.
"Yes," she whispered. "I lied."
She loosed her arrow. It shot like a comet and hit the severed head. It burst into flame.
"You will burn with us!" it screamed from the fire. "You will burn too, Gloriae. You will burn forever. You will burn in the Sun God's fire."
The flames overcame its words. Gloriae watched it burn, until it was nothing but a skull. Still its jaw moved, and its teeth clacked. Gloriae walked toward it and kicked with her steel-tipped boot. She kept kicking until the skull shattered.
"I did not make you a boy again," she said. "But I freed you. I ended your pain. That is more than what Dies Irae will do to me, if he catches me." She clenched her fists. "But he will not catch me. He will burn too."
She turned around and stepped underground into the cellars.
TERRA
His wing and leg blazed in pain, but Terra kept flying. The city of giants spread beneath him.
"Stars," Memoria whispered.
She flew beside him, blood staining her green scales. Terra clenched his jaw. The sight of her blood hurt him more than his wounds. I will not let her die too. I will fight and burn and die if I must, but I will protect her.
He returned his eyes to the city. It spread like a labyrinth. Leagues of grey brick walls wound across the mountaintop. Giants ran between them, shouting and howling and pounding their chests. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands.
"Look," Terra said. He pointed a claw and grunted with the pain; his knee felt swollen and burned. "The fort."
"I see it," Memoria said, eyes narrowed. "The king must live there."
The fortress loomed taller than an Ice Palace, taller than the old courts of Requiem; Terra guessed that it stood a thousand feet tall. Built of grey, frosty bricks, it was a simple structure; it had no bridges, towers, or courtyards like the forts of men. It was but a great cube of stone. It rose from the city, a sentinel over the mountain.
Hundreds of spikes lined the fort's parapets, holding the decapitated heads of icelings. The heads gazed with eyeless sockets, their mouths open, their skin frozen blue. Giants stood there too, boulders in hands. They howled, and soon those boulders flew toward the two dragons.
Terra cursed, flew sideways, and dodged a boulder that grazed his leg. More boulders flew.
"Fly above the fort!" he shouted. "We'll be harder to hit."
Memoria nodded. They flapped their wings hard, shooting between the boulders. They flew higher and higher. The cold, thin air spun Terra's head. He righted himself, flew north, and circled above the stone fortress.
One giant tossed a boulder. Terra and Memoria scattered. The boulder flew between them, reached its zenith, and tumbled down. The giants below howled, and the boulder crashed between them, punching a hole into the fort.
The boulders ceased flying.
"Good," Terra said, flapping his wings. "We're safe if we hover right above them. I..." A closer look at the fortress made his breath die.
"Stars above," Memoria said, flying beside him. "Look at the size of him."
Terra clenched his jaw. Ice seemed to form along his spine. Fire filled his mouth, flicking between his teeth.
"I see him," he said, voice low. "He's a big boy, that one is."
A massive, deformed creature stood atop the fort, howling and pounding his chest. He towered over the giants who manned the parapets around him, twice their size. Tufts of hair grew from his squat, misshapen head. His body was all muscles overgrown with boils and scars. Claws grew from his fingers, each the size of a man. He wore a loin cloth, a belt decorated with iceling heads, and a crown of icicles.
"He must be a hundred feet tall," Memoria whispered.
Terra nodded. "Twice our size. He's their king."
The Giant King howled and reached his claws toward them. His cry shook the air; Terra could feel it pound against his chest. In his mind, he heard the howls of dragons, and the shrieks of griffins, and Memoria's voice. Terra... I found him.
"Look at his neck," Memoria said.
Terra frowned and stared. A golden chain hung around the giant's neck. Two small, white objects hung from it. When Terra squinted, they came into focus. Hands. A woman's hands, pale and dainty, folded into fists.
"Adoria's Hands," he said. "Those are the toys we want. Let's burn him, then grab them."
The smaller giants leered and waved their arms. The king pounded his feet, snapped his teeth, and cried out to them in a guttural language.
Memoria shook her head. "No fire, Terra! What if flames burn Adoria's Hands?"
The Giant King spat and shouted. His eyes blazed. Terra imagined that he was insulting them, calling them weak, inviting them to fight. Terra's head spun. He grinded his teeth.
What am I doing here? he thought. I vowed to nevermore fly to war. To nevermore see fire, blood, a loved one die. He wanted to turn and leave, to fly back to the ice palace. To hide from war. From pain. From those soft, echoing words.
Terra... I found him.
But had she found him? Had that small body, burned beyond recognition, truly been Kyrie?
Are you still there, Kyrie? Still in the ruins of Requiem, waiting for me to find you?
"If you're alive, Kyrie, I'll help you," Terra whispered, quiet enough that Memoria could not hear. "I'll burn the mimics who hunt you. I'll take Adoria's Hands."
His sister flew around him, green scales splashed with blood. "Ready, Terra?"
He nodded, staring down at the giant. "We dive. I'll fly to his front, you to his back. Let's claw out his neck."
Terra bared his fangs, outstretched his claws, and swooped.
Dragons! To me!
Requiem, rally here!
Griffins! They killed the children, they—
The words of old battles screamed in the wind. Terra snarled and swooped. He swooped like in the old days, like he would swoop against Osanna, diving to kill, to burn, to fight for his life. To death. To glory. To pain.
Kyrie! Kyrie, do you hear me?
His howl rang. He reached the Giant King.
Claws flashed. The giant swung his fist. Terra dipped, flew under the blow, and lashed. His claws hit the giant's thigh.
Nothing. No blood. No mark. The giant's skin was tough as the thickest leather armor. Memoria flew behind the giant. She bit his shoulder, then cried. Her fangs would not pierce his skin.
The Giant King roared. Terra and Memoria flew up. The giant's fists swung, and one hit Terra's tail. It knocked him into a spin.
"Terra!" Memoria cried. The lesser giants cheered around them.
The king reached out, fingers thick and bloated like dead seals. Terra flapped his wings, narrowly dodging the blow, and soared.
"The damn thing seems made of boiled leather," Terra muttered. He circled a hundred feet above. The giant howled and stamped his feet below, grinning and drooling. Boulders flew. Terra flew left and right. One boulder grazed his side, chipping a scale.
"Leather? It felt like biting into iron," Memoria shouted. She flew beside him, wincing.
Terra growled. "Let's burn the beast."
"No fire, Terra! We can't harm Adoria's Hands."
"Then we'll burn the smaller ones."
Terra soared, spun, and dived. Boulders flew around him. One hit his left horn, knocking it off. He howled in pain and blew fire at a row of lesser giants. They blazed. More boulders flew. Terra soared, spun, flew at them again. He roared more fire. More giants burned and fell.
"Memoria, you all right?" he shouted.
She flew alongside the fort's parapets, blowing more flame. Giants caught fire. Their boulders fell, cracking the parapets.
"I'm fin—" she began, and a boulder slammed into her side.
She fell.
"Memoria!"
Terra flew across the fortress, moving toward her. He flew too low. The Giant King reached out. Those bloated fingers grazed him. Terra flew higher. For an instant, he thought he was free. Then the king's hand closed around his leg.
The giant pulled him down like a man tugging a struggling bird. Terra howled and lashed his tail. He hit the king's face, but the giant only laughed. His fingers tightened around Terra's leg, nearly breaking the bone.
"Memoria!" he cried. Where was she?
The king pulled him near. His mouth opened, showing rotten, yellow teeth. His breath assailed Terra, as foul as mimics. His tongue reached out. He's going to eat me alive.
Terra blew fire, not caring if he harmed Adoria's Hands. His flames hit the king's face, crackling and showering sparks. The king howled, released Terra's leg, and brought his hands to his face.
Terra flapped his wings. The giant was rubbing his eyes, slapping the fire off his face. Terra swooped, shouted, and drove his remaining horn into the Giant King's left eye.
The giant roared so loudly, Terra thought his eardrums would tear. He pushed, driving the horn deep into the giant's head. The giant howled. His hands clutched him.
Terra couldn't breathe. The giant wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. Terra had never felt such pain. His ribs creaked. He felt one crack. He thought his organs would burst. The world turned black. Stars floated.
I'm dead, he thought. It ends here. I'm dead and so is Memoria. I'm sorry, sister. I'm sorry. I love you.
He flapped his wings. Somehow he kept kicking. He clawed, but the arms kept squeezing.
His eyes rolled back.
"Terra!"
He heard thudding wings. He heard cries, howls, tearing flesh. The arms released him.
Terra fell to the floor. He looked up and saw Memoria slashing the giant's face. She was like a raven attacking a bear. Her fangs and claws dug into the giant's eyes, nose, mouth. The king howled and swiped at her. Blood covered her scales; she was more red than green.
Up. Up! Fly, dragons of Requiem!
Howling, Terra pushed himself to his feet. His chest blazed. It felt like knives were digging inside him. He flapped his wings and soared.
He slammed into the giant, clawing. One claw caught the giant's slobbery lip, and tugged, and tore. Blood showered.
"It won't die!" Memoria shouted.
"It will! Bring it down!"
The king's hands thrashed. One fist hit Memoria. She cried and fell back. Another fist thudded into Terra's side, but he ignored the pain. For an instant, he saw the king's face. There was barely anything left; his head was a mess of blood and burned flesh. Disgust filled Terra. He flew, spun, and lashed his tail.
His tail's spikes drove into what had been the giant's head. One pushed through the ear, deep into the brain.
The king howled.
Terra pulled back. Memoria flew beside him. They hovered, panting, staring.
The Giant King swung his arms uselessly. He mewled. Mucus and blood flowed down him. He took one step toward them, knees shaky. He took a second step... and faltered. His knees hit the fortress roof, shaking the structure. He reached out feebly, swinging his hands as if swatting flies.
"Let's put him out of his misery," Terra said.
He flew to the giant's right. Memoria flew to his left. They clawed, lacerating the giant's neck.
The Giant King gave one last, gurgling yowl. He clutched his face and mewled like a demonic baby.
Then he fell.
He hit the fortress, cracking the stone. He kicked his legs, then lay still.
Terra collapsed beside the body. Breathing hurt. Memoria landed beside him and nudged him.
"More giants are climbing the walls," she said. "Let's grab Adoria's Hands and get out of here."
Terra nodded and grunted. He limped toward the dead Giant King. The body lay facedown, hiding Adoria's Hands beneath it. Terra shoved the body, but it felt like shoving a mountain.
"Come on!" Memoria shouted, shoving with him.
Giants howled behind them.
Boulders came flying.
Terra and Memoria leaped aside. The boulders hit the Giant King, shoving the body several feet back.
Terra roared fire. The flames shot across the fortress and hit a dozen giants. Memoria blew fire behind him, burning more giants. More boulders flew. The two dragons scattered, and the boulders hit the dead king again.
"Terra, the hands!" Memoria shouted.
The boulders had shoved the king, revealing Adoria's fingertips. The king's body still buried the palms.
"Hold them back!" he shouted to his sister.
Memoria nodded and flew in circles, blowing fire at the climbing giants. Flaming rocks flew around her. Terra shoved the giant's body, pushing with his feet. He howled with the pain. The body barely moved.
"Hurry, Terra, more are climbing!"
Terra grunted, shoving, driving forward. White pain blinded him. He shouted... and the body moved a foot. Terra reached down, snapped the chain, and tugged it. The hands came free.
"I've got them!" he called hoarsely. "Fly!"
Clutching the hands, he flapped his wings, shooting straight up. Memoria flew beside him, eyes narrowed, blood trickling. Boulders blazed around them like flaming comets.
In his mind, Terra saw the flaming arrows, the hordes of griffins, the fire upon Requiem. He saw their old home: the mosaic floor, the balcony in sunrise, the vineyard at sunset, the garden where he'd play with Memoria and Kyrie.
"I never left you," Terra whispered as he flew. His eyes stung. "You're still with me, Requiem. Now. Always."
If Memoria heard him, she said nothing, but she gave him a sad smile.
They flew from the Jet Mountains. They flew over plains of ice and snow. They flew over this land of exile, this frozen world where they hid from fire and pain. Blood had spilled here today, and fire burned, and for the first time in years, Terra felt the ice inside him melt.
I remember. I was a soldier. I was a brother. I am that man still.
He looked at Memoria, his little sister, the person he'd stayed alive for. He nodded at her.
"It's time to go home."