Blood of Requiem (Song of Dragons, Book 1)

11. KYRIE ELEISON

KYRIE ELEISON

"Where are we going?" Kyrie said.

Benedictus grumbled. "You talk too much, kid."

It had been six nights since Gloriae had attacked, and they were still stuck in Hostias Forest, Benedictus refusing to leave until he found his "treasure." They walked now through the shadowy brush. It began to rain, and soon Kyrie was soaked and shivering. It was a cold night, starless, and Kyrie imagined that he could hear griffins in every gust of wind. How Benedictus could navigate in this darkness, Kyrie didn't know. He tried to ask more questions, but heard only growls in reply.

Finally Benedictus stopped by an oak tree. He said to Kyrie, "Wait here."

"Wait for what?" Kyrie said. His teeth chattered, and raindrops dripped down his nose.

But Benedictus did not answer. He walked past the oak, disappearing into darkness. Just then the clouds parted, the rain stopped, and the stars shone. Kyrie saw that they had reached the crater. He remembered. This was where he'd first seen Benedictus shift. Starlight fell upon the clearing. It seemed to Kyrie like a holy place, almost like the old courts of Requiem. The crickets fell silent and the wind died.

Kyrie stared, silent, and saw Benedictus walk to the center of the crater. The moonlight limned his form. As Kyrie watched, a woman stepped into the crater and stood before Benedictus.

Kyrie froze.

A woman?

Silent, hidden between the oak leaves, Kyrie stared. His breath caught. The woman was beautiful, the most enchanting creature he'd ever seen. His body tingled to view her. Mirum had been beautiful too, but in an earthy way, a beauty of sand and salt. This woman's beauty was ethereal, a beauty of starlight and magic. Her hair was long and fine, a blond so pale it was almost silvery. Her skin was milky, and she was tall and slender, clad in white silk. Kyrie gaped.

"Lacrimosa," Benedictus said to her. His voice was softer than Kyrie had ever heard it. "You shouldn't have come."

Lacrimosa smiled sadly. "You say that every new moon, yet every new moon I'm here."

Her voice was soft and high. If moonlight could speak, Kyrie thought, it would sound like her.

"It's dangerous," Benedictus said and held her hands.

Lacrimosa nodded. "You say this every new moon too, yet I still live."

She took a step back, releasing Benedictus's hands, and shifted.

Kyrie gasped. She was Vir Requis! Like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon, she grew white wings, silvery scales, and a slender tail. Soon she stood as a dragon, tall and lithe, glistening in the stars.

A third living Vir Requis! Kyrie watched, eyes moist, as Benedictus too turned into a dragon, the great black dragon, chest scarred. The two dragons, the black and the silver, flew through the night. They coiled under the stars, whispering to each other, a dance of sad beauty. Kyrie could no longer hear their words, but their dance spoke of old love and lost dreams.

Finally the dragons landed, one woven of darkness, the other of starlight. In the crater under the stars, they shifted back into human forms: one man gruff and dark, one woman pale and glowing. They began walking toward the trees, toward Kyrie. He could only gape, awed.

"Close your mouth, kid," Benedictus said when he reached Kyrie. "A griffin might fly into it." He turned to the woman. "Lacrimosa, meet the kid I told you about."