Blood of Requiem (Song of Dragons, Book 1)

14. KYRIE ELEISON

KYRIE ELEISON

They flew all day and into night, and finally they lost the griffins over a forest of oaks and pines.

Under rainclouds and trees, they ran in human form, small and cloaked in darkness. They ran for a league, maybe two, ran until Kyrie's side ached and his lungs felt ready to burst. They ran until they heard no more griffins, and then ran some more.

Lost, wounded, and exhausted, they finally collapsed in the forest.

Kyrie sat on the wet ground, leaned against an oak, and shut his eyes. Everything hurt. Lacrimosa and Benedictus collapsed beside him. Benedictus breathed ragged, creaky breaths like a saw. Lacrimosa's chest rose and fell, and she seemed paler than ever.

It was long moments before Kyrie could speak again. Finally he turned to Lacrimosa and said, "Why? Why wouldn't you let me kill her?"

She looked at him, pain in her eyes. "She is a sad child."

Kyrie shook his head in disbelief. Gloriae? Sad? He snorted. He saw rage in Gloriae. He saw cruelty. He saw a killer. There was no sadness in those icy eyes, in those cruel lips.

Lacrimosa began crying. Kyrie felt guilt like a rock in his belly.

"Lacrimosa, I—" He couldn't understand. It seemed almost like Lacrimosa loved Gloriae, loved this killer, the daughter of Dies Irae. But how could that be? "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Drop it, kid," Benedictus said, still wheezing. "Gloriae's tale is a sad one. Dies Irae kidnapped her when she was three, raised her to hate Vir Requis, raised her to kill. The girl is not evil at heart; she's simply ignorant."

Kyrie doubted that. He had looked into Gloriae's eyes. He had seen something cold, cruel, and calculating there. If that wasn't evil, he didn't know what was. Lacrimosa, however, was still crying, and Benedictus's eyes were shooting daggers. Kyrie decided to drop the subject.

He rubbed his aching shoulder. "All right," he said. "I'll drop it. But I'm not done asking questions. I have many. And I want answers to some at least. In the past few days, I've been shot at, clawed at, bitten, burned, and hit with about a field's worth of ilbane. My wounds ache, this rain is bloody cold, I'm famished, and I stubbed my toes about fifteen times on these roots. I think I've earned some answers." His voice was hoarse and his eyes stung. "So tell me this at least: Are there more Vir Requis? Or are we the last?"

Before anyone could answer, a griffin shrieked in the distance. Kyrie stiffened. He sat still, daring not breathe. Beside him, Benedictus and Lacrimosa also froze. An old oak rose above them, twisted and leafy. No griffins would see through its boughs, but still Kyrie's fingers trembled. He scanned the clouds for griffins. He saw a glint above—a rider carrying a torch. Is that Dies Irae who rides there? Or Gloriae? Then the griffin flew by, its shrieks fading into the distance.

When they could no longer hear the griffin, Benedictus turned to face him. At least, Kyrie thought he did; in the darkness, Benedictus appeared as but a shadow, burly and stiff like the oaks around them.

"There is another," spoke his gruff voice in the night.

Kyrie's heart leaped. Another! Another Vir Requis! He wanted to leap up and dance, and only the memory of the last griffin kept him still. "Who?" he breathed. "A girl Vir Requis?"

In the darkness, he heard Lacrimosa laugh softly, and Kyrie felt blood rise to his cheeks. Nice one, Kyrie, he scolded himself. You sound like a lonely, love-starved boy.

But maybe it wasn't so foolish a question, he decided. A female Vir Requis meant hope. A female could bear children. And if Kyrie himself was the father... He felt even more blood rush to his cheeks, and he was grateful for the darkness that hid his fluster. Suddenly he was no longer cold.