GLORIAE
She knew this place. She had hunted here. She had burned here. She had shed her mother's blood here and nearly killed her father.
Hostias. Once a shadowy, ancient forest. Today it was a land of burned trees and memories of war.
I rode my griffin Aquila over these woods, she remembered, cutting the sky, the wind in my hair. I was a warrior of glory, of gold, of grandeur... and of lies.
"Are you sure you know the way?" Gloriae asked her mother. "The land looks different now."
Lacrimosa nodded, walking beside her. "I know. I visited your father here every new moon. I will find the crater."
Her mother's tunic and leggings were tattered, her cheeks were ashy, and her lavender eyes looked too large, her face too thin. When Gloriae looked at her own body, she saw more dirt, more tatters, more scratches and bruises and thinned limbs.
I was a huntress of jewels and might, a light upon Osanna, a champion of justice. And now... now we are humble, and dirty, and gaunt. Gloriae missed those old days, missed the glory. But what glory had that life truly held? Only glory to the blind, she thought. And I was blind. Dirt and hunger, when suffered for truth, are nobler than gold and lies.
Gloriae looked over her shoulder and drew comfort from the sight of their host—marching statues with pulsing Animating Stones in their breasts. Roughly hewn from boulders and columns, they were craggy, bulky things, slow to move and rough to touch. Frost and snow covered them. Their features were mere chips, eyes narrow slits, mouths harsh lines. Though their first statues—the dragon and the maiden—had carved them only recently, they seemed to Gloriae like ancient things, gods of earth and stone and wisdom. The age of the stone appeared in every nook and bump upon them.
"They make a bloody racket," Agnus Dei muttered, walking beside Gloriae. The statues crackled with every step, a sound like grinding rubble. "The mimics will hear."
Kyrie was walking with an arrow in his bow. He snorted. "Let them hear. Our statues beat them to pulp last time. They can do it again."
But last time we fought on our turf, and now we march upon theirs, Gloriae thought, but said nothing. She knew that attacking a place was harder than defending it. Kyrie would learn that today, she suspected. She pulled down her helmet's visor, a gilded mask of her own face. Behind it, she felt like a statue herself, blank and expressionless, made for killing.
"I recognize this place," she said. She pointed at a frozen stream that snaked between craggy boulders shaped like trolls. Rushes had once grown along it; they had burned away in the war, but the boulders were unmistakable. She had camped here with her griffins once. "We're almost there."
Lacrimosa nodded. "Ben's hut was near. We would walk here many times."
And this is the place where I nearly killed Kyrie, Gloriae thought, but said nothing. It seemed so long ago. Dirt for gold. Truth for glory.
They kept walking. The charred trees rose around them, creaking in the wind, heavy with snow and icicles. Soon Gloriae heard a sound from ahead: creaking, hammering, grunting. She sniffed and smelled rot on the wind. We're near.
"Gloriae," said her twin, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are a brave warrior. You will fight well today."
When Gloriae turned her head, she saw Agnus Dei staring at her with somber eyes. She's afraid, Gloriae realized. And so am I.
She nodded. "You will as well. You are a warrior, Agnus Dei. I've seen you fight. I have fought you myself. Yours is a steel heart."
The sounds grew louder as they walked. Thump thump and twang. Hammering. The creaking of ropes. And above it all the grunting, squealing, and screaming of mimics.
"Stop," Gloriae said, raising her hand to halt the others. The statues too ceased walking; when still, they looked like nothing but boulders with the hint of men's shapes.
"What is it?" Kyrie asked.
"We make too much noise. I'll scout ahead. Wait here."
She left them between the burned trees. As she walked, she drew Per Ignem, and the blade caught the light. My blade is thirsty for your blood, Irae, she thought as she walked. You gave me this blade. You gave me these steel-tipped boots. You gave me this steel armor and this steel soul. A snarl found her lips. If you are here today, these weapons you gave me will be your death.
The sounds from ahead grew louder. Thump. Twang. Squeals and shouts. Move faster, maggots. Get this dirt out of here. Screams and clashing metal. And above it all, a stench of rot that filled Gloriae's helmet and made her growl.
She stepped over a fallen bole, climbed a hill of burned birches, and beheld the Animating Stone mine. She knelt behind fallen trees and watched.
A ditch and wooden palisade surrounded the mine. Behind these crude fortifications, Gloriae saw a crater the size of the amphitheatre in Confutatis. It was clear of brush and dust rose from it. Tents, scaffolding, and wagons of dirt covered the crater. In the center, a shaft led underground.
Gloriae narrowed her eyes, examining Dies Irae's forces. Mimics patrolled the crater, their arms burly, their chests broad. Some seemed to be workers; they carried shovels and buckets. Others were warriors; their arms ended with blades instead of hands. Gloriae counted thirty workers and fifty warriors.
"Is that all?" she whispered, raising an eyebrow. This mine is the key to Irae's power. Are these all his guards?
Frowning, she walked back to the others. She found them ahead of the statues, lighting their torches and arrows. Their faces were somber, their eyes dark, their fingers tight around their weapons.
"What did you see?" Kyrie asked her. Ash and mud covered his face.
"Fewer than a hundred mimics," she said. "This worries me."
Kyrie snickered. "You're worried about a hundred mimics? We smashed a thousand back in Requiem."
Lacrimosa seemed to understand faster. "Exactly, Kyrie," the queen said. "That's what worries Gloriae. This mine is valuable to Irae. Why guard it with a mere hundred mimics? Where is his army?"
Kyrie rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear me? We smashed his army in Requiem."
Agnus Dei groaned and punched his arm. "Pup, you are denser than a statue's backside. Don't you remember what the mimic head said when Gloriae questioned it? Irae has thousands of mimics left. Why aren't they guarding the mine?"
Kyrie rubbed his arm and glared at her. "Because they're preparing to invade Requiem, that's why. Maybe they're invading it already, while we're here in Osanna. Dies Irae underestimates us. He always has. So he guards this place with a hundred mimics and thinks it's safe."
Gloriae nodded slowly. "Maybe, Kyrie. Maybe. But I'm worried. Let's proceed cautiously."
"You mean, let's be extra careful not to die?" Kyrie snickered again. "I think we've all become rather good at that already, Gloriae. If you think it's some elaborate trap and want to turn back, say so. Otherwise, let's storm the damn place and smash it."
Gloriae looked at Lacrimosa. "What do you say, Mother?"
Lacrimosa stared toward the mine. Her lips tightened and she drew Stella Lumen. She nodded.
"We need that mine. Whatever horrors await us in its darkness, we will face them." She raised the blade, and stars seemed to shine within its steel. "Fire and stone."
Gloriae bared her teeth. "Fire and stone."
She spun around and drew Per Ignem. She raised the blade in one hand, her torch in the other. With a shout, she began running. The others answered her cry, and she heard their footfalls behind her. The statues ran too, their feet shaking the earth, their cries like mournful thunder and cracking mountains.
Waving her torch, Gloriae leaped over a fallen bole and charged toward the mine.
The mimics below howled. Their stench hit Gloriae like a fog. Balls of flame flew over the sharpened stakes that surrounded the mine. Gloriae batted one aside with her torch. Another hit her breastplate and fell to her feet. Gloriae spat. It was a flaming human head.
"Bring down the walls!" she shouted. A thousand statues of Requiem ran around her. "Knock them down!"
The statues jumped into the ditch that surrounded the mine. As they crashed down, the mine shook. They began smashing the palisade, cracking and toppling the sharpened logs. More flaming heads flew from within the mine. Gloriae snarled as she dodged them.
Soon the palisade fell, and statues filled the ditch like stones filling a mote. Behind the smashed fortifications, Gloriae saw the mimics waiting. They waved blades, howled, and leered.
"Kill them all!" Gloriae shouted and ran toward them. She ran over the mimics in the ditch, as if they were stepping stones, and leaped through the smashed palisade.
Two mimics ran toward her. They had no hands; their arms ended with blades. Those blades swung at her. Gloriae ducked, dodging one blade, and parried the second with her sword. She tossed her torch and burned one's face. She leaped up, spun, and swung her sword. The second mimic's head flew. Before the first mimic could recover, she thrust her blade and pierced its chest. As it howled, she lifted her torch and swung it left and right. Soon the mimics burned.
The battle raged around her. The other Vir Requis were swinging their torches and swords, holding back dozens of the undead. The statues were pouring into the mine behind her, and their stone hands tore mimics apart.
Three mimics raced toward her, only three feet tall. Gloriae grimaced. Were they children or dwarves? She could not tell; their heads were too rotten. They lashed at her with daggers. Gloriae parried and swung her weapons. Soon they lay dead around her, oozing pus. She stared down at them. If they were children, well... I've killed children before.
It only took moments. Gloriae slew two more mimics, these ones with the heads of horses, and it was over. The mimics all lay torn across the mine. Their limbs, torsos, and heads still twitched and crawled. The statues moved across the crater, stomping the mimic parts and grinding them.
"Is that all?" Agnus Dei said and laughed. She kicked aside a crawling arm. "Is that all Irae's got?"
Gloriae stared around, eyes narrowed. This was too easy.
"All right!" Kyrie said. He began walking toward the shaft. "Into the mine. Let's kill whatever creatures crawl down there and be done with."
No, Gloriae thought. No, this is wrong. She knew Dies Irae. He would not leave this place so vulnerable. This had to be a trap, or—
A grumble sounded below.
The crater trembled.
Kyrie paused outside the shaft. He took a step back and raised his weapons. Gloriae clutched her sword and snarled.
"Here we go," she whispered. "Whatever terror Irae prepared for us... it's waking up."
A stench rose from the mine, worse even than the dead mimics across the crater.
"Come near me," Lacrimosa said, voice strangely calm. She raised Stella Lumen, her sword of Requiem steel and diamonds. "Let us stand together."
The crater trembled. The strewn mimic arms began to crawl toward the trees, as if fleeing what evil lurked below.
Gloriae moved to stand at her mother's left. Agnus Dei and Kyrie moved to her right. The queen of Requiem held her sword before her, and its blade glimmered.
Gloriae raised her own sword, Per Ignem, a blade of northern steel and gold. "I fight beside you, Lacrimosa, Queen of Requiem."
Agnus Dei and Kyrie had no ancient, legendary blades. Theirs were common swords found in abandoned castles, their steel unadorned, their grips simple leather. Kyrie had named his "Irae's Fate", and Agnus Dei had dubbed hers "Pup Killer" after an argument with Kyrie. Common swords, but as the two raised them, they shone with just as much light.
"For Requiem," Kyrie said.
"For Father," whispered Agnus Dei.
A howl rose from the mine.
Cracks ran along the crater. Burned trees snapped and fell. Red light beamed out of the shaft. Thousands of cockroaches fled from it and scurried across the crater. Thunder boomed and lightning rent the night.
A shadow rose from the shaft.
Gloriae gasped. Her legs shook. She panted and growled and hissed. Beside her, she heard the others curse.
"What the stars is it?" Agnus Dei asked, disgust twisting her words.
"Irae's insanity," Gloriae answered softly. "And all his malice."
The creature unfurled before them, and Gloriae screamed.
KYRIE ELEISON
"Stay near me, kitten," he whispered. "I'll look after you."
Beside him, Agnus Dei clutched her sword and torch. "Pup, focus less on protecting me, and more on killing that thing. All right?"
Grimacing, he watched the creature unfold itself, rise to its feet, and roar to the heavens.
"Deal," he said.
The creature from the mine stood twenty feet tall, maybe thirty. It was a mimic, but unlike the others. It seemed stitched together from gobbets of flesh. Its limbs were huge, ten feet long, wide as barrels. They were made of many smaller limbs braided together. Its muscles were woven of human legs and arms bundled into strands of oozing flesh. Its torso was stitched together from a dozen rolled up bodies; Kyrie saw three faces peering from its stomach like fetuses trying to emerge from a womb. A helmet the size of a barrel covered the mimic's head. Kyrie was grateful; he did not want to see its face.
For a moment, the world was silent. The mimic giant stood before them, watching them.
Then Lacrimosa's voice pierced the night.
"Burn it."
Kyrie nocked a flaming arrow and fired.
It slammed into the mimic's chest, and it roared. Bricks rolled and the earth shook. The other Vir Requis shot arrows too. They slammed into the mimic, and it screamed and pulled the arrows out.
"Statues of Requiem!" Lacrimosa called. "Bring it down."
The statues raced toward the undead giant. Howling, it swiped its arms, and statues flew. Kyrie cursed and leaped aside. A statue flew over his head, a missile of chipped stone. He glanced behind him and saw the statue crash into its brothers, scattering them.
"Damn thing's going to ruin my day," Kyrie muttered and nocked another arrow. He aimed at the giant mimic's head. The helmet had only a thin slot for the eyes. If I can only shoot my arrow in there....
The giant kept moving, lashing its arms at statues. Kyrie stayed still. He closed an eye. He aimed. He caught his breath... and fired.
The flaming arrow pierced the night. It slammed into the helmet, an inch above the eye slot, and fell.
"Stars damn it!" Kyrie said. He gritted his teeth and reached for another arrow, but had no time. The giant howled and leaped toward him.
Kyrie cursed and jumped back. The mimic giant swiped a hand at him. Each finger, Kyrie realized, was made of a man's arm. He ducked, and the hand flew over his head. He raised his sword and sliced into the hand. Blood showered.
"Pup!" Agnus Dei shouted somewhere in the battlefield.
The giant tossed back its head and howled. Kyrie leaped, ran, and sliced his sword across the giant's calf. It roared, and Kyrie ran behind it. Before it could turn toward him, he nocked an arrow. When it started racing toward him again, he had aimed and fired.
The arrow glanced off the giant's helmet.
"Damn it all!" Kyrie shouted.
He raced across the crater. The statues were hacking at the mimic's legs, but it kept kicking them away, like a man kicking away nipping dogs. Lacrimosa and the twins were firing arrows, but they barely fazed the giant. A dozen arrows soon covered its torso, but it seemed not to feel them.
"Aim for its eyes!" he shouted at the girls.
Agnus Dei groaned. "Pup, I don't tell you how to kill mimics."
The giant heard her and ran toward her, feet cracking the earth. It swung its hands at her. One finger slammed into her shoulder, knocking her down.
"Agnus Dei!"
Dread filled Kyrie like a bucket of ice inside him. He shouted, ran, and leaped onto a pile of fallen statues. He vaulted forward and landed on the giant mimic's back.
The stench assailed him. Kyrie thought he might pass out. The mimic bucked and reached over its back, and its hands slammed against Kyrie. He grunted. Each blow felt like a hammer. He dug his fingers into the mimic's flesh. Its back was woven of a dozen human bodies slung together, a jumble of arms and legs and gasping faces. The giant kept leaping, and the blows fell onto Kyrie, but he clung on. He drew his dagger. He drove it into the mimic's back.
Rot sprayed. The giant screamed. Kyrie grimaced and twisted the blade.
"Pup!"
"Kyrie!"
The giant thrashed and its hands slammed against Kyrie's back. The pain bloomed. Kyrie thought he might pass out. Statues kept attacking the giant's legs, but it kept kicking them aside. Arrows kept piercing its chest, but it barely noticed. It kept reaching over its back and lashing at Kyrie, knocking the breath out of him.
"No way," Kyrie managed to say, the blows raining against him. "No way, my friend. You are going down."
He pulled his dagger free. Blood and halved worms covered the blade. Kyrie shoved his fingers into the creature's back and pulled himself up, until he reached its neck. With a cry, he shoved the dagger down.
Blood flowed from the giant's neck.
It wobbled.
It pitched forward.
"Pup!" Agnus Dei cried.
The giant hit the ground. The world shook. Kyrie tumbled off it, rolled across the ground, and stopped at Agnus Dei's feet. She knelt over him, ran her fingers over his cheek, and her eyes were red. He could barely see her. His eyes fluttered and stars floated before him. Gloriae and Lacrimosa rushed to him too.
"Pup, are you alive?" Agnus Dei shook his shoulders. "Get up! Get up, pup, or I'll kill you!"
Kyrie pushed himself to his feet. He turned to face the fallen giant. It was struggling to rise. Its arms, each one woven of a dozen severed limbs, flexed as it pushed itself to its knees.
"This one's mine," Kyrie said hoarsely.
He reached over his back and took his last arrow. Legs trembling, he walked toward the giant mimic.
It stared at him. Kyrie could see red, blazing eyes inside its visor, each the size of a human head.
He lit and nocked his arrow.
The giant roared.
The arrow flew.
This time Kyrie shot true. The flaming arrow flew through the slot in the visor—it was only three inches wide—and drove into the giant's eye.
Its scream was so loud that the crater cracked, and Kyrie fell. He grunted, struggled to his feet, and walked forward. The mimic giant floundered at his feet, its head burning. Kyrie drove his sword into its visor, and clenched his jaw as the blood poured.
The giant gave a last cry, and its limbs hit the dust.
It lay still.
Covered in its blood, Kyrie stared down at it, sword in hand.
"Bastard," he said.
And then Agnus Dei was hugging and kissing him, and Lacrimosa was tending to his wounds, and even Gloriae gave him a curt nod that said, Well done.
When they burned the giant's body, it raised black smoke that seemed to never end. Kyrie watched it burn, and thought about the men, women, and children who had died to form it.
"We have to kill Irae," he said, jaw clenched. "We have to kill him once and for all."
Agnus Dei stood by him, her arms around him. "We will."
AGNUS DEI
She raised her sword. Pup Killer, she had named the blade after a fight with Kyrie. A silly name, she knew. A silly fight. Tonight she wished she had a legendary sword like Gloriae's Per Ignem or like Mother's Stella Lumen, swords with history, glory, and might. Tonight she would need all the might she could get.
"We enter the mine," she said. "If we find Animating Stones, we'll take them. If we find Dies Irae, we'll kill him. I'll climb down first. If Irae is down there, I want him to meet my sword first."
Gloriae stepped up beside her. "I'll enter behind you. We are twins. We will wield twin blades."
With a small smile, Gloriae raised Per Ignem and touched its steel to Pup Killer.
Agnus Dei nodded. "Time of the twins."
Lacrimosa joined her blade to the salute. "The statues will enter behind you. I'll bring up the rear. Kyrie, you go with me. If anything enters the mine behind us, we'll kill it."
Kyrie touched his blade to the other three. Thunder rolled. It began to rain.
Agnus Dei approached the shaft leading into the mine. When she listened, she heard nothing from below. No hammering. No cries. Silence.
"There are more mimics down there," she said. "They're waiting. I'm ready for them. Come, Gloriae. Behind me."
With a deep breath, Agnus Dei climbed into the shaft.
A ladder led into darkness. Agnus Dei held the rungs with one hand, her sword with the other. She began to climb down. Cold air blew from below. When she looked down, she saw nothing but darkness.
Gloriae climbed above her. "Do you see anything?" she said.
"Yeah, I see your smelly feet above me. Nothing but darkness below."
It seemed that she descended forever. The air became so cold, Agnus Dei's teeth chattered. Wind moaned around her, ruffling her hair. The stench of rot grew as she descended. Above her, she heard creaking and thumping, and dirt rained onto her.
"Gloriae, what's going on up there?" she asked.
Gloriae's voice answered in the darkness. "The statues are digging their hands into the sides of the shaft. That's the only way they can climb down."
"Just make sure the bloody things don't make the mine collapse, all right? At least, not before we grab some Animating Stones."
They kept descending into the darkness. Agnus Dei remembered the last time she had plunged underground. She had crawled through caves in Fidelium Mountain. Father had been with her. Dies Irae and his nightshades had waited for them.
I wish you were with me here too, Father, she thought. The darkness seems colder without you. Your spirit now dines in our halls beyond the stars. If you can see me down here, please watch over me.
Finally the shaft ended. Agnus Dei let go of the ladder and stood on shaky feet. The darkness was complete. When she held her hands before her face, she couldn't see them.
"The shaft ends here," she said. "Be careful, Gloriae. Come stand beside me."
She felt in the darkness. Her hands touched craggy walls and slats of wood. She inched forward and found herself walking into a tunnel.
"Let's light some fire," Gloriae said.
Agnus Dei nodded and rummaged in her pack for her tinderbox. Soon she and Gloriae held crackling torches. The light revealed a tunnel that sloped into darkness. Wind blew from it, cold and rank with the smell of mimics.
"I used to come to this crater every moon," Agnus Dei said. "Mother and I would travel here to meet Father. I never understood why no trees or grass grew from it. Now I know. It's because Animating Stones pulsed beneath it. This place is evil."
Gloriae shook her head. "No. Animating Stones are only tools. Tools are rarely evil; the men who wield them often are."
"So let's find our man. Let's shove our swords into him."
She began walking down the tunnel, her torchlight dancing against craggy walls held with wooden slats. As she walked, she couldn't help the thoughts that whispered. Our man. Dies Irae. Was he... could he be... her father?
Agnus Dei growled. No. Impossible. True, Dies Irae had raped her mother nine moons before she and Gloriae were born. True, Dies Irae believed that he was the true father, not Benedictus. But Agnus Dei refused to believe.
"I am nothing like him," she whispered, jaw clenched. She had brown, fiery eyes like Benedictus. She had black hair like him, a temper like him, skin that tanned gold like his. And Gloriae... true, Gloriae had blue eyes and golden hair like Dies Irae, but so what? Lacrimosa was fair; Gloriae must have inherited her eyes and hair from her, not Dies Irae.
I will never believe that he's my father, she thought. And even if he is... I don't care. I still hate him, and I'll still kill him. She couldn't wait to thrust her sword into his flesh and watch him die.
Her footfalls echoed down the tunnel. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw statues walking behind Gloriae. She could only see several feet into the darkness; if Mother and Kyrie walked behind, the shadows hid them.
A growl sounded ahead.
Agnus Dei whipped her head forward and snarled. She raised her torch but saw nothing. She stopped walking and stared.
The growl sounded again.
The tunnel shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling and wooden beams creaked. More growls filled the tunnel, and something cackled.
"Time to kill," Agnus Dei said. With a wordless battle cry, she ran into the darkness, swinging her torch and sword.
A beam snapped to her right. A boulder crashed above. Dust rained.
"Come face me!" she cried. Shadows scurried ahead, laughing. She ran toward them, but they fled. All around her, wooden beams snapped, dust showered, and rocks fell.
"Agnus Dei, back!" Gloriae cried behind her. "Turn back."
"I can see them ahead!" Agnus Dei answered. "They're running away. After me, Gloriae!"
She raced into the darkness, leaping over falling stones. The tunnel shook violently. Agnus Dei fell, scraping her knees. She pushed herself up and kept running. She saw a mimic ahead. Its eyes blazed, it leered, and then it turned and fled.
"Come face me!"
Gloriae shouted behind her. "Agnus Dei, the mine is collapsing! Boulders are falling."
Agnus Dei looked over her shoulder and gasped. The ceiling was crumbling, burying the animated statues. Boulders crushed them.
"Mother!" Agnus Dei screamed. "Kyrie!"
Boulders crashed and began rolling toward her.
"Run, Agnus Dei!" Gloriae cried.
Agnus Dei ran deeper into the darkness. Rocks buffeted her back and helmet. A boulder crashed ahead of her. She leaped over it and kept running. More boulders rolled behind. The mimics were gone. She couldn't even hear them laughing anymore.
"Gloriae!"
She grabbed her sister's hand. The two ran together, heading deeper into the tunnel. A beam crashed before them, and dust blinded Agnus Dei. She leaped over the wood and rocks and plunged into darkness. She fell. Rocks rained. Dust filled her nostrils. Statues cried behind her.
"Mother," she whispered.
A rock hit her shoulder, and she fell onto her chest. Gloriae fell beside her.
Her hand opened.
Gloriae's hand slipped from her grip.
Rocks covered her, and Agnus Dei reached out, trying to grasp something, anything.
"Pup. Pup...."
Mimics laughed in the darkness.
Stars shone.
A blow struck her helmet, and her face hit the ground. All sound and light faded from her world.
LACRIMOSA
She had reached the bottom of the shaft, and begun to walk down the tunnel, when the mine collapsed.
My daughters.
Stones fell, beams snapped, and dust rained.
My daughters!
No other thought filled her mind. She raced forward. Debris crashed around her. A rock hit her shoulder, and she shouted. She had to get through. She had to save them.
"Agnus Dei!" Kyrie shouted beside her. He began tossing rocks aside.
"There, move that boulder!" Lacrimosa said. A boulder the size of a man blocked their way. "Help me."
My daughters. No. Please, stars, please, don't take them from me.
She grabbed the boulder and pulled. Kyrie strained beside her. It wouldn't budge.
"Statues of Requiem!" Lacrimosa called. "Do you hear me?"
Had any statues survived? They had all entered the mine before her. Were they all crushed, as dead as the burned mimics?
"Statues, come help us," Kyrie shouted, but they did not emerge from the wreckage. A few more rocks tumbled, and then the dust settled.
Lacrimosa released the boulder she'd been pulling.
"It was a trap," she said.
Kyrie was still tossing rocks aside. In the light of her torch, Lacrimosa saw that his eyes burned and his cheeks were red.
"Agnus Dei!" he shouted. "Do you hear me? Gloriae!"
Lacrimosa wanted to scream too, to attack the wreckage, to cry and shout. No. She steeled herself. She refused to panic. Stay calm. Think. If the twins are alive, I have to stay calm to save them.
"It was a trap," she said again. Her fingers trembled, but her voice was steady. "This was not the main entrance to the mine. It was built for us."
"What are you talking about?" Kyrie demanded. "Lacrimosa, come on, help me move these boulders. Hurry!"
She clutched his shoulders and forced him to stare at her. "Kyrie Eleison! Listen to me. Think. Dies Irae knew we'd come here. He knew we'd crawl down the shaft. He rigged the tunnel to collapse onto us. But he wouldn't destroy his only entrance to the mines, not if he wants more Animating Stones. There must be a back entrance somewhere. If the girls survived... if they're trapped somewhere down there... we have to find it. Now come, hurry! Back to the surface."
Kyrie's eyes blazed. He looked ready to argue. Then he squared his shoulders and nodded.
"Let's go."
They began climbing the ladder out of the collapsed mine. Scratches and bruises covered them, but Lacrimosa barely felt the pain. My daughters. A vision of them crushed and broken flashed through her mind. Lacrimosa tightened her jaw and banished it. Don't panic. Stay calm. Save them. There must be another entrance to the mine. There must be. If the girls are alive, I'll find them.
Soon she and Kyrie climbed back onto the crater.
Mimic dogs awaited them there.
The creatures howled and lunged at them.
They were stitched together from various dead animals. Their heads were canine, but some had the bodies of goats, and one had human arms instead of legs. One had the body of a flayed pony, and another had an arm for a tail. They all barked, drooled, and bared their teeth.
Lacrimosa swung Stella Lumen, slicing into them. Kyrie fought beside her. They swung their torches too, burning the creatures. The dogs swarmed and leaped, their eyes blazing in the night. Their fur burned, but they kept attacking. One bit Lacrimosa's arm, and she screamed and beat it off.
"Lacrimosa, look!" Kyrie said. "Between those burned trees. It looks like a path."
Lacrimosa torched another dog and stared. Yes. She had missed it earlier, but now, with the blazing dogs casting their light, she saw it. A rough path led from the crater between the burned trees.
"You think Irae made the path?" she shouted over the howling dogs.
"It might lead to another shaft. Let's go! This dog and pony show is getting boring anyway."
They began to run, slicing and burning their way between the throngs of mimic dogs. Her arm bled, and her head spun, but Lacrimosa forced herself to keep running. They raced out of the crater and onto the path, the dogs in hot pursuit. Burned branches snapped under her boots.
My daughters. Please, stars, please. Don't let me lose them like I lost my husband.
The dogs yapped behind her. As she ran, Lacrimosa nocked an arrow. She spun, knelt, and fired. A dog yelped and fell. She kept running.
"Damn it!" Kyrie shouted and skidded to a stop.
Lacrimosa fired her last arrow. Another dog fell. "What is it?"
"A hole in the ground. I nearly fell in."
Lacrimosa ran forward and held her torch over the ground. Hidden under charred logs, a shaft led underground.
"Climb down," she said. "I'll hold back the d—"
Before she could finish, three dogs leaped onto her. She beat one back with her torch. The other two knocked her down. They snapped their teeth, and Lacrimosa banged one's face with her sword's hilt. The other bit her arm before Kyrie stabbed it. A hundred more mimic dogs came running from the forest.
"Into the mine!" she shouted. "Hurry."
Kyrie nodded and climbed down. "Come on, after me."
Lacrimosa clubbed two dogs with her torch, then leaped into the shaft. A ladder led into the darkness, and she began scurrying down. The dogs surrounded the opening, barking, but dared not jump down.
"Think we'll find the girls down here?" Kyrie shouted below her. She could barely hear him over the howling dogs.
Lacrimosa closed her eyes as she climbed into darkness. Please, stars. Please. Don't take my daughters from me. Her fingers trembled around the rungs of the shaft's ladder.
"I don't know, Kyrie. Hurry."
The ladder seemed endless. She descended into darkness—the darkness of the earth, and of her fears. She had only just buried her husband. If she now had to bury her daughters, how would she continue? How could she revive Requiem, if only she and Kyrie now lived? How could she find strength to live on?
"No," she told herself again. "No, don't despair. Not when your daughters might still breathe, might still need you."
She forced herself to think only of every new rung, every new step into the belly of the earth. They descended until finally, shivering with cold and fear and injury, they reached solid ground.
"Agn—!" Kyrie began, but Lacrimosa elbowed him.
"Quiet, Kyrie," she whispered. "Let's move quietly."
They ran down a tunnel, struggling to keep their footfalls as soft as possible. Soon they heard hammering, grunting, and digging ahead. Red light glowed in the darkness. They rounded a corner, and Lacrimosa cursed and leaped back.
"Wait," she whispered and held up her arm, stopping Kyrie. "Peek."
They stuck their heads around the corner, and Lacrimosa exhaled slowly. Stars.
"There must be hundreds," Kyrie whispered, knuckles white around his sword hilt.
Lacrimosa nodded. "And hundreds more get their hearts here every day."
The cavern ahead was as large as Requiem's old halls. Torches and scaffolding covered its walls. Wooden bridges criss-crossed its depths like spider webs. Iron wagons screeched in and out of a dozen tunnels, moving on tracks, their wheels sparking. Everywhere she looked, Lacrimosa saw mimics. They covered the walls like bats. They dug in the cavern floor. They rode the wagons and manned the bridges and hollered as they worked.
"Look, Lacrimosa," Kyrie said and pointed. "That tunnel, over there."
Lacrimosa squinted. A fist seemed to grip her heart and squeeze. Far below and across the cavern, twenty or thirty mimics crowded around the entrance of a tunnel. It was hard to see in the darkness, but it seemed like the tunnel was blocked. Rocks and boulders filled it, and dust still poured from it.
"That must be the tunnel that... that...."
That my daughters escaped from? That my daughters died under? She did not know how to finish that sentence. Before she could say more, the mimics around that collapsed tunnel shifted, and Lacrimosa glimpsed two figures on the ground.
"No," she whispered, tears budding in her eyes. "Please, stars, no."
Lying on the ground by the tunnel, covered in dust and blood, were her daughters.
Kyrie made to race down into the cavern. Lacrimosa grabbed him and pulled him back.
"No, Kyrie!" she hissed.
He looked at her with wild eyes. "Lacrimosa, they... stars, they might be hurt, they need us, they...."
"We can't help them by dying," she said. "Wait, Kyrie. We watch. We hide. If we rush into this cavern alone, we're dead. If they're still alive, we'll save them, I promise you, Kyrie, I promise you. Now is not the time to rush to battle."
Panting, Kyrie knelt beside her. His fists clenched around his weapons. Lacrimosa placed her hand on his shoulder, and they stared silently from the darkness.
As they watched, a figure emerged from shadows and walked toward the collapsed tunnel. Cloaked in darkness, the man stood over the bloodied girls. A mimic held a torch near him. Its light glinted on jewelled armor and an arm of steel.
Lacrimosa's heart seemed to shatter inside her.
"Dies Irae," she whispered.
DIES IRAE
He stood in the cavern, arms crossed, and stared down at the girls.
The twins.
His daughters.
Finally, after all this time, he had them.
Gloriae was unconscious. Blood speckled her armor, and when Dies Irae removed her helmet, he saw her eye and forehead swelling.
My beautiful sweet Gloriae, Dies Irae thought. Why did you have to disobey me? You were once so beautiful, so pure. You could have ruled this glorious empire at my side. Now you will serve me as a mimic.
He turned to look down at Agnus Dei. Blood trickled down her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, and her mouth kept opening and closing. Bandages covered wounds on her arms and legs. Fresher scrapes peeked from the tatters of her clothes.
And Agnus Dei, my freakish daughter. You have never served me. You have always hated me. You will too will become a mimic of rot and worm.
Dies Irae turned to stare at Lashdig, chief of his miners. The hunchbacked, warty mimic stared back, his one eye large and blue, the other squinty and black. Matted red hair grew between scars on his head.
"Tie them up," Dies Irae told him. "And gag them."
Lashdig bowed his head. "Yes, master."
The stooped mimic barked a few commands, mimics shuffled, and soon ropes bound the twin girls. Lashdig stuffed bloody cloths into their mouths, which he secured with more rope. The girls began coming to, and started to struggle, but their screams were muffled, their limbs too weak to break free.
Dies Irae caressed Gloriae's cheek. "Why do you struggle, sweetness? You will become a beautiful mimic, a slave girl to my warriors' desires."
Her eyes blazed with hatred, and Dies Irae laughed. He turned to Agnus Dei, the dark twin.
"And you, Agnus Dei, why do you struggle so?" He chuckled at the sight of her squirming and screaming into her gag. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You too will become a beautiful mimic, Agnus Dei. Lashdig himself here will enjoy thrusting into you, he and all his miners."
He straightened and faced Lashdig again. "What of the other weredragons?"
Lashdig stared from his mismatched, rheumy eyes. "The tunnel swallowed them, my lord, as you planned. Their beastly stone mimics are crushed too."
"Find me bodies. If you have to scrape them off stones with a shovel, do it. I want their blood. I want what's left of their bones. Find me the weredragon whore and the boy."
Lashdig bowed. "Yes, my lord." He turned toward his workers. "Mimics! Dig. Dig well. Find us the weredragons. Their blood will feed our new children."
A voice spoke behind him.
"The blond one. Is that Gloriae?"
Dies Irae turned to see Umbra, the Blood Wolf assassin, walk toward him. She held a drawn dagger, and her eyes blazed. In his chambers, at his insistence, she was always nude. Today she wore black leggings, a black bodice, and five more daggers around her waist.
"This is her."
Fast as a panther, Umbra pounced atop Gloriae. She snarled and backhanded the young woman's cheek. Gloriae grunted into her gag. Her lip split, and blood trickled from it.
"You murdered my husband," Umbra hissed. "You burned my brothers." She backhanded Gloriae again. "I will make you suffer." She brought her dagger close to Gloriae's face. "I will make you suffer like they did."
"Umbra!"
Dies Irae's voice rang across the cavern. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off Gloriae. She struggled in his grasp, but he held her tight.
"Umbra, control yourself. That is an order."
She hissed and spat. "She will pay for her crimes."
Dies Irae nodded. "But not at your hands, Umbra. If you kill her, her pain ends. Once we make her a mimic, her pain will last forever."
Gloriae moaned, blood trickling down her chin. Agnus Dei screamed into her gag and thrashed. Umbra laughed.
"Very well, Irae," the Blood Wolf said. She tossed back her hair and sheathed her dagger. "I will keep her alive. But once she is a mimic, Irae... I will hurt her, again and again, a thousand times for every Blood Wolf she slew."
Dies Irae nodded. And I will hurt you, Gloriae, for every nightshade you released from the abyss. And I will hurt you, Agnus Dei, for every man a weredragon has slain.
He turned toward Warts and Bladehand, two of his finest warrior mimics. They rustled with bugs and stared at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Lift the girls," he told them. "While Lashdig and his miners dig for the others, we'll take these two to the camp. We'll dissect and stitch them there. Soon you will have fine, rotting bodies to enjoy."
Warts and Bladehand hissed and drooled. "Yes, master. As you command."
Bladehand grabbed Gloriae and slung her over his shoulder. Warts lifted the writhing Agnus Dei. Both girls screamed into their gags, a beautiful sound. Dies Irae began walking across the cavern, and the mimics followed behind. All around him, the miners dug, tunnelled, and sifted for Animating Stones. The red crystals glowed in wagons, thousands of them, thousands to keep building his armies.
One will be for you, Gloriae. And one for you, Agnus Dei.
As Dies Irae walked across the mine, the twins screaming behind him, he smiled thinly.
GLORIAE
Everything hurt. Bruises and cuts covered Gloriae. Her head pounded. Stars shone above between naked branches. As the mimics carried her through the burned forest, every jostle shot pain through her.
"Move faster, my lovelies," Dies Irae called out, marching ahead of the column. "I want to hit the camp by sunrise."
The mimics growled around him. Fifty of them, maybe a hundred, snaked through the forest. They carried crackling torches. Tied up and gagged across one's shoulder, Gloriae couldn't see much, only burned trees, thumping mimic feet, and glimpses of Agnus Dei tossed across a second mimic's shoulder. She kept trying to meet her sister's eyes, but only caught glimpses of the girl's flopping, dusty hair.
Are Mother and Kyrie dead? Or are they captured too? Worry for them gnawed on her, worse than her pain. The entire tunnel seemed to have collapsed behind her. It seemed unlikely that Mother and Kyrie could have survived.
"You will be my slave," hissed the mimic who carried her. Its hand grabbed her thigh and squeezed. "I will take you deep, and break you."
Gloriae glared down at its chest, the only part she could see. Oozing wounds stretched across that chest, slapping against her cheek as it ran. Gloriae closed her eyes and tried to ignore the stench and pain.
If Mother and Kyrie are dead, so is Requiem, she thought. Kyrie is our last male. Unless... unless his child truly quickened within me, and is a boy, and can still survive. That too seemed unlikely to Gloriae. She had not bled since lying with Kyrie two moons ago, or was it three now? But she had also barely eaten, barely slept, barely rested from battle. Those more likely dried her blood than any life within her. Tied and gagged across a mimic's back, Gloriae lowered her head, and her soul seemed to sink into her belly.
So it's over. We lost the war. And soon... soon I and my twin will be mimics too, maggot-ridden and cursed for eternity.
Gloriae wanted to find hope. She struggled to grasp any ray of it she could find. But how could she? How could she escape death yet again?
A bird cawed.
A second bird, across the road, answered it.
Whistles cut the air.
With thuds, flaming arrows slammed into a dozen mimics.
"The Earthen." Dies Irae spat the word in disgust. "Mimics! Find them."
More flaming arrows flew. Gloriae grimaced. One arrow flew so close, it singed her hair. She stared through narrowed eyelids, but saw only shadows in green cloaks darting between the trees. Green cloaks. Earth God priests.
Twenty mimics raced into the woods, firing their own arrows and swinging their swords.
"Bring me their heads!" Dies Irae shouted. "A hundred slaves to any mimic who brings me Silva."
Gloriae sucked in her breath. Silva the Elder? She had heard his name whispered in the halls of Flammis Palace. Dies Irae had called him an outlaw, a crazy old man, a disgraced follower of a false god. He had killed Silva's siblings, toppled his temples, hunted him across the land. Did the priest still live?
More arrows flew. Three mimics fell dead. The battle raged through the forest, mimics and Earthen clashing swords and firing arrows.
Green shadows leaped from the burned trees, racing toward Gloriae with raised swords. Will they free me from the mimics? Or will they kill Gloriae the Gilded, she who had hunted and killed so many of their number? She remembered the tavern last summer, where she had hunted Kyrie; she had killed an Earth God priest there, one Tilas, or Talis, or Taras. She had forgotten his name, but would these Earthen remember her crime?
Bladehand grunted and tossed her down. She landed with a grimace, banging her elbow against a rock. Warts tossed Agnus Dei down; her sister slammed against her, yelping. The two mimics snarled and clashed blades with the Earthen.
She lay, Agnus Dei atop her, watching the fight. It only lasted minutes. Growling, Bladehand tore into an Earthen's face, then stabbed his chest. Warts sliced off a woman's arm, grabbed her throat, and clawed out her eyes. Soon they were feasting on Earthen entrails. The other mimics came walking back from the forest, carrying severed heads, chewing on human organs.
Dies Irae nodded. Blood covered his mace and splashed his armor.
"Good, lovelies, good," he said. "Now grab the weredragons. Our camp lies just ahead. Soon the weredragons will taste needle and stitch."
They began to march again. Dawn rose around them, spilling red stains across the sky. The burned trees creaked in the wind, their icicles glimmering red. A dawn of blood, Gloriae thought and closed her eyes. Perhaps the last dawn of my life.
The mimics crested a hill and began to descend. They grunted and howled around her, and Agnus Dei screamed into her gag. Gloriae opened her eyes to see a camp sprawled across a valley below. Stench rose from it like steam. A palisade of sharpened logs surrounded the camp, protecting dozens of huts. Chained humans shuffled between those huts, mimics howling and whipping them.
Dies Irae led them into the valley, and soon they marched through the camp. Gloriae looked around, nausea twisting her gut. Blood soaked the snow and the huts' walls. When a mimic cracked a whip and entered one hut, Gloriae glimpsed prisoners inside, thin and shivering, their backs lashed. Many prisoners were missing limbs, their stumps wrapped with bloody bandages.
Between the huts rose piles of body parts, sorted into arms, legs, torsos, and heads. The piles rose thirty feet tall. Mimics walked atop them, rummaging through them, like ants scurrying over hives. Gloriae saw one mimic lift a woman's arm, lick it, and toss it aside. She gagged and coughed, her head spinning.
What has he turned into? she thought. How could Dies Irae, an emperor once devoted to gold and light and beauty, sink to such evil? This was not the man she had known. True, the Dies Irae who'd raised her had hunted, killed, and brutalized his enemies. But he had done it for order, light, and justice. This... there was no light here. There was no glory or justice. You became worse than any enemy you've imagined.
Past the piles of bodies, Gloriae saw ditches where fires burned. The mimics were tossing body parts into the flames: limbs that were frail, torsos that were thin, heads with no teeth. They crackled in the fires. Gloriae understood. He collects what he needs. He burns the rest.
Finally Dies Irae stopped by a group of chained, whipped prisoners who stood barefoot in the snow. He raised his hand, and the mimics carrying Gloriae and Agnus Dei stopped too.
"Put them down," Dies Irae said.
The mimics tossed Gloriae and her sister onto the bloodied snow. They rolled, grunted, and shivered in the cold.
"What have we here?" Dies Irae asked, examining the prisoners. He caressed the hair of a chained toddler. "Why, this one is too small. He is useless to me. Burn him." He moved on to a woman with a bruised face. He squeezed her arms. "This one is strong. Take her limbs. Her teeth are crooked; burn her head." Next he frowned at an old man. "Burn this one, all of him."
He went from prisoner to prisoner, choosing parts to keep and parts to burn. Gloriae watched, her head spinning, the taste of vomit in her mouth. She struggled against the ropes binding her, but only chaffed her skin bloody. Beside her, Agnus Dei also struggled. She screamed into her gag, and her eyes were so wide, Gloriae could see white all around her irises.
I will kill you, Dies Irae, Gloriae swore again. This is not the empire I fought for. This is not the vision you taught me. I will break free and I will kill you.
When he had finished reviewing the prisoners, Dies Irae walked toward Gloriae and Agnus Dei. His boots, made from the golden scales of a young dragon, stood a finger's length from Gloriae's face.
"And now... these two."
His voice was soft, almost loving. He knelt and caressed Gloriae's cheek. She glared at him. His face was so different now. She remembered his face being strong, cold, and tanned gold. Now his face was gaunt, deeply lined, and ghostly white. A patch covered his left eye, and his right eye seemed paler too, a watery blue. He smiled at her, his lips like squirming worms, and touched her hair.
"This one... this one is strong. This one is steel. But she is treacherous, yes. A betrayer. Use what parts of her that you will, but leave me her head."
Next he knelt by Agnus Dei. She floundered in her bounds and her eyes shot daggers. Dies Irae leaned down and kissed her cheek, leaving a line of saliva on her skin.
"And this one... this one too is strong. Stupid, yes. Beastly and cursed, certainly. But strong. Use her body for your warriors, Warts and Bladehand. Leave me her head too. I will take their heads back with me to Confutatis."
Bladehand, the mimic who had carried Gloriae, nodded. "Yes, master. We will be building a new batch today, master. Their bodies will make good warriors." He knelt on all fours, leaned in, and licked Gloriae's cheek with a bloated tongue.
"Excellent," Dies Irae said. "Toss them in with the others for now." He smacked his lips. "Right now, it's time for breakfast."
Bladehand lifted Gloriae, and Warts lifted Agnus Dei. Grunting and licking their chops, the mimics carried the twins to a hut, opened the door, and tossed them in. The lock snapped shut behind them.
Gloriae rolled across the floor, and her head hit somebody's leg. Agnus Dei rolled too, cursing behind her gag, and came to a stop beside her. At once, hands covered the two, feeling and grabbing. One hand held a rusty shiv near her head. Gloriae began to struggle, but these hands did not hurt her, and the knife did not cut her.
"Hush, girls, we'll remove your gags."
The shiv worked at the rope around her face, and her gag came free. Gloriae coughed, sucked in breath, and coughed again. Prisoners crowded over her, wearing rags. They shivered in the cold, gaunt and sickly. Their skin draped over their bones, and their faces were skeletal. Their eyes were sallow, their hair wispy.
"Thank you," Gloriae whispered hoarsely, finding that she could speak no louder.
The prisoner with the shiv began cutting the ropes around her ankles and wrists. Gloriae moved her limbs only an inch, and pain blazed. She gritted her teeth. Every movement shot bolts through her. She massaged her wrists; they were chaffed and bleeding.
"Drink," said a prisoner, a young woman with large grey eyes. She held melted snow in her palms, and Gloriae drank. Another prisoner was busy freeing Agnus Dei.
"Gloriae!" her twin said once her gag was removed.
Gloriae crawled toward her—she felt too weak to walk—and the two embraced. Agnus Dei had tears in her eyes, and Gloriae felt her own eyes sting.
"Oh, sister," she whispered. "It's horrible, isn't it?"
Agnus Dei trembled. "Do you think Mother and the pup are here? I... I tried to look for them as they carried us through the camp, but I couldn't see them. I'm worried."
Gloriae looked around her, and for the first time, she got a close look at the hut. Its walls were frosty, splashed with blood, and lined with bunks like shelves. A single slop bucket stood in one corner, a pile of frozen bread in another. It was a small hut, smaller than her old bedroom at Flammis Palace. And yet hundreds of prisoners filled it. They covered the floor, shoulder to shoulder, or lay in the bunks. Many were missing limbs. Their eyes were glassy, their skin sweaty, and bloody bandages covered their stumps. Some lay mumbling, feverish, their wounds green with infection. A few were dead already. Their limbs are now attached to mimics, Gloriae knew.
The prisoner with the grey eyes, who had given Gloriae water, gestured around her. She smiled a sad, crooked smile.
"Welcome," she said, "to Dies Irae's imagination."