Blood of Requiem (Song of Dragons, Book 1)

9. KYRIE ELEISON

KYRIE ELEISON

Kyrie was collecting firewood when he heard the griffins.

Five days had passed since he saw Benedictus shift, since he saw Black Fang—Benedictus in his dragon form, the beast that had led the Vir Requis to war, to their final stand at Lanburg Fields. Five days had passed in silence. Five days of collecting firewood, of sleeping on the ground, of trying to speak to the gruff man and hearing only silence.

Today shrieks broke this silence—the eagle shrieks that still haunted Kyrie's nightmares, the shrieks he'd heard the day Lady Mirum died.

He squinted, dropped the firewood, and saw them above.

They were close.

He had seen many griffins since his chase above the sea, but they had been distant. These ones flew just over the forest canopy. Kyrie could see their talons glint, their beaks snap, and their armored riders scan the forest. They swooped, flew into the sky, looped, and swooped again. They moved fast, blurred into streaks, wings churning the air. Their cries hurt Kyrie's ears.

"Damn it," he muttered and began to run back toward the hut, boots kicking up moss and dirt. He had to find Benedictus.

He stumbled over a tree root, almost fell, and managed to steady himself. He kept running, branches slapping his face. The griffins swooped. One's talons hit a treetop, and branches crashed behind Kyrie.

What if... I led them here?

A griffin swooped so close, Kyrie dropped down. The beast tore the canopy with its talons. Kyrie leaped up and ran from tree to tree, hiding under the foliage.

Ice filled his stomach. They could have seen me... last night.

Tears stung Kyrie's eyes. He couldn't have helped it. He'd had to turn into a dragon. Had to. It had been a month already. A Vir Requis needed to fly once a week; going longer could drive him mad, fill his blood with fire, and make his fingers shake. So he had shifted. He had flown. He had soared over the trees at night, streamed through the clouds, and let the cold air fill his maw. Did they see me then?

Talons tore down the tree before him. Kyrie found himself staring into a griffin's eyes.

He recognized its rider. She was a young woman, her gilded armor molded to the curve of her body. She wore white leggings, white gloves, and leather boots with steel tips. A helmet hid her face, but Kyrie could imagine those icy green eyes.

"Gloriae," he whispered.

For an instant the world froze.

Then Kyrie shouted, leaped up, and shifted.

A tail sprung from his back, wings unfurled, and blue scales flowed across him. His maw opened, full of sharp teeth, shooting flame at Gloriae.

Dragon and griffin soared into the sky, wreathed in fire.

Griffin talons shot out. Kyrie blocked them with his claws. He leaned in to bite, and his teeth closed around the griffin's neck. Gloriae screamed. Her lance stabbed Kyrie's shoulder, and he howled and blew flames.

Talons clutched his back. A second griffin landed on him, biting and clawing. Kyrie felt his blood flow, and he shouted and spewed fire, spinning above the trees, lashing his tail.

He beat off the second griffin, but he was hurt, maybe badly. He blew flames again; they roared around Gloriae's shield, staving her off. A quarrel whistled. Gloriae was firing a crossbow, and the quarrel scratched Kyrie's belly. It was only a nick, but Kyrie felt the sting of ilbane, and he howled. The sun blinded him.