Blood of Requiem (Song of Dragons, Book 1)

27. KYRIE ELEISON

KYRIE ELEISON

Kyrie had never felt more pain.

He and Agnus Dei had not touched ground in a day and night. Through darkness and hail and sunlight over burning cloudscapes, they flew faster than wind, higher than mountains. Again the sun was setting, blazing orange and red over a sea of clouds, casting rays between the Vir Requis. How far had they flown since that night Lacrimosa fell captive? It must be close to three thousand leagues, Kyrie thought. Maybe more. He had never flown so fast, so far.

His wings ached. His lungs burned. His joints felt like rusty metal hinges. He looked at Agnus Dei. She flew beside him, her scales blazing red in the sunset. Her eyes stared forward, narrowed and fiery. Her fangs were bared. Yet Agnus Dei too needed rest, Kyrie knew. Pain lived on her face alongside her anger, and her wings looked stiff and aching.

"Let's rest!" he called to her over the wind.

She glowered. "Not until we find the salvanae."

"Maybe they're below the clouds," Kyrie said. "Let's land and look for them on the ground."

She gave him a look that said, Nice try, pup, but no cookie.

Kyrie attempted to think of another argument, found none, and resigned himself to grabbing Agnus Dei and pulling her down.

"Let go!" she cried as they tumbled through the clouds.

But Kyrie would not let go. He wrapped himself around her and swooped through the clouds, into clear sky, and toward the earth. She wriggled in his grasp, and he tightened his grip, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. Luckily she was too weary to break free.

No trees covered the land, and the grass was thin and yellow. Hills rose from the earth, round like upside down bowls on a tabletop. A stream ran between them, gray under the clouds, and deer drank from it. Still pulling Agnus Dei, Kyrie landed by the water. The deer snorted and fled, hooves kicking up dirt and grass.

"Let go, pup," Agnus Dei said, panting. She finally shook herself free from Kyrie. She looked to the sky, as if considering to take flight again, then shook her head and approached the stream. She drank deeply.

Kyrie joined her. He dipped his head underwater and drank. The water was icy, and it filled him with such goodness that he sighed. He drank until his belly bulged, then raised his dripping head from the water.

"I needed that," he said.

Agnus Dei gestured toward the next hill, which lay nearby. More deer stood there in the dusk, promising a meal. "I'm hungry," Agnus Dei said. "Feel like mutton?"

"Their meat is called venison," Kyrie said.

Agnus Dei rolled her eyes. "Now don't start that again."

They flew toward the hill where the deer grazed, and they caught one before the others escaped. It was mostly skin and bones, and its meat was tough. After a day of no food, however, Kyrie wasn't complaining.

Agnus Dei swallowed her last bite and licked her lips. "Let's fly. Ready, pup?"

Lying on the ground, Kyrie turned his head toward her. He wanted to be ready. He wanted to fly, to find help, to find the salvanae. In his dreams, he saw himself leading an army of dragons to Confutatis, saving Lacrimosa, and avenging all those whom Dies Irae had killed. But were those only dreams? Kyrie sighed.

"What if there are no salvanae?" he whispered. "What if we're only chasing a myth?"

Agnus Dei's nostrils flared. Her eyes blazed and flames escaped her lips. "Kyrie, you know how I feel. You know I believe."