Blood of Requiem (Song of Dragons, Book 1)

30. KYRIE ELEISON

KYRIE ELEISON

"How long has it been?" Kyrie asked Agnus Dei, wings flapping.

The sun rose over the horizon, a disk like a burnished, bronze shield from Lanburg Fields. Snowy mountaintops peeked from clouds below. Where the cloud cover broke, Kyrie saw piney mountainsides. Rivers roared between boulders, feeding pools of mist. He saw no game, and his belly grumbled.

"Seventh morning since the Divide," Agnus Dei said, flying beside him. She looked at him, and Kyrie thought that her eyes had lost something of their rage. A week ago, fire and pain had filled them, but now he saw weariness and fear there. Her eyes, normally brown, appeared golden in the sunrise. Dawn danced on her scales.

"Is this all Salvandos is?" he asked. "Mountains, and rivers, and lakes, and..."

His voice died off. During the past week, they'd flown over more landscapes than he'd thought the world held: hills of jasmines that rolled for a hundred leagues, lakes full of leaping trout, plains of jagged boulders like armies of rock, and many realms his weary mind could no longer recall. But no humans. No griffins. And no salvanae. Salvandos—fabled realm beyond Osanna, beyond the dividers. A realm of great beauty that, at times, brought tears to Kyrie's eyes... and, it seemed, a realm of great loneliness.

"There are salvanae here," Agnus Dei said, though her voice had lost its former conviction. She was reciting. "We'll find them soon. Maybe today."

The clouds parted below, and Kyrie eyed a stream. "Let's grab some breakfast," he said, watching the silhouettes of salmon in the water. Without waiting for an answer, he dived toward the river. Cold winds and mist hit him, and soon he reached the river and crashed into the water. He swam, then rose into flight again, three salmon in his jaws. He swallowed them, dived, and caught two more.

His hunger sated, he landed on the river bank. Agnus Dei swooped and crashed into the water too, spraying Kyrie. Soon she stood beside him, chewing a mouthful of salmon. Kyrie watched her as she ate. She was beautiful in dragon form, her scales brilliant, her eyes glittering, her fangs sharp... but Kyrie couldn't stop thinking of her human shape. He hadn't seen her human form since that day, that horrible and wonderful day on the border. He remembered her bruised, hot body pressed against him, her lips against his lips, her—

No. Kyrie pushed the thought away. She had lost blood that day, had been confused and frightened. Whenever he tried to speak of their love making, she glared at him with dragon eyes, fangs bared, and he shut his mouth. He knew that he better forget it soon, or she'd beat the memory out of his mind.

But... spirits of Requiem, how could he forget the most intoxicating and wonderful night of his life?

"I love sardines for breakfast," Agnus Dei said. She dunked her head into the river, then pulled back with spray of water, another salmon in her jaws. She gulped it, then drank from the river.

Kyrie drank too, remembering those breakfasts of porridge and bacon back at Fort Sanctus, and he thought of the Lady Mirum, his heart heavy.

When he finished drinking, he licked his chops and said, "Where now, Agnus Dei? How much longer can we fly? Maybe there is no golden mountain. Maybe there are no salvanae."

He looked around at the clear waters, the mountains covered in snow and pines, and the valleys of grass and boulders. He wished he could stay here forever with Agnus Dei. No griffins filled these skies. They could rebuild the Vir Requis race here—him, her, their children. This land could promise a future for the Vir Requis, and... Kyrie felt his blood boil again. It could mean many more nights with Agnus Dei.