Page 13 of Of Empires and Dust
“Most druids who fragment can never centre themselves. You did. You brought yourself back, stopped your soul from drifting endlessly. That’s a start.”
“I heard my brother calling to me.”
“We can re-tether you,” Tamzin said, leaning forwards. “But we must get you back to Níthianelle’s counterpoint of where your body rests in the mortal plane. We can move much faster here. The distances are… different. But the Darkwood is still almost a week’s march.”
“A week? Where are we?”
“When I found you, your soul was drifting. We are about thirty miles east of Elmnest in Varsund – or at least its counterpoint. I will not be able to stay here. Even with Kerith guarding me, I will have to return to eat and drink.”
“What about me?”
“If you are still alive, that means there is someone tending to your body, likely a mage sustaining you with the Spark. But eventually your body will give out.”
“And what about leaving me alone here? You said there are people looking for me?Thingslooking for me?”
“So long as we keep moving, you’ll be all right. I promise, Ella, I’ll get you back.”
The next question was one Ella had been waiting to ask. One she had held back until Tamzin had answered the others. “How do you know my name?”
Tamzin’s pupils sharpened to thin lines, her body tensing.
That was all Ella needed. She lunged forwards, calling to the wolf in her blood. It answered with a howl as she slammed into Tamzin and pressed the woman down into the dirt, wisps of glowing white mistwhooshinginto the air. She wrapped a hand around Tamzin’s neck, her clawed nails pressing into the soft flesh, luminous white blood trickling. Tamzin just lay there, still as a board, eyes fixed on Ella.
“I never told you my name,” Ella growled, her voice low, the wolf snapping in the back of her mind. “Who are you,really?And who is looking for me? Remember, if you die here, your body dies there.”
“You truly are of Fenryr’s blood,” Tamzin said, dragging in a ragged breath through the pressure of Ella’s hand. “I did not lie to you. My name is Tamzin Aurielle. I am a Blooddancer of Kaygan. I was born in Carvahon thirty-four summers past, just outside Vaerleon. My druidic blood ignited when I was eleven. When your mind fragmented, it sent a pulse through this place. I was sent to come and find you – to save you if I could. With each passing year, our bloodlines grow thinner. There are so few of us already. If our kind is to survive, we must find each other. We must stand together.”
“Who sent you?” Ella leaned in, coming nose to nose with the woman, her top lip pulling up in a reflexive snarl, baring her teeth.
Tamzin stretched her neck out, her pupils shifting from thin to round, but she made no attempt to free herself. “There are some who never lost the old ways, who can trace their lineage for thousands of years, back to Terroncia and when the gods walked freely amongst us. They took me in on my fifteenth summer. They are rebuilding, readying for when the Lorian Empire falls. That is who sent me. I speak no lie. But we are not the only ones. There are others. Zealots of Bjorna still clinging to the old wars, purists who would see the other gods dead – see us dead. Vethnir Hunters and factions who would kill you just because I got to you first. And then there are those who would have us hide who we are until time itself crumbled.”
Ella loosened her grip, not much but just enough to allow Tamzin to breathe more comfortably. The fact the woman held no fear in her eyes despite Ella’s claws being wrapped aroundher neck was more than a little unsettling. “How do I trust you? How do I knowanythingyou have said is true?”
“Because.” Tamzin’s lips curled into a half-smile, exposing her fangs. “Like I said already, you have no choice. Sleep well, Ella Bryer. I will return soon. Sleep in the tree, and if something comes for you, run. The wolf in your blood will keep you safe until I get back.”
Ella made to speak but instead fell forwards, her hand pressing into the earth as Tamzin evaporated in a mist of white light.
Chapter 4
In Gods We Trust
5thDay of the Blood Moon
Temple of Achyron – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Brother Ormin screamedas Kallinvar laid him on the long stone table at the northern edge of the Heart Chamber. The stone groaned beneath the weight of Ormin in his Sentinel armour, dust falling from the table’s joints.
Watcher Gildrick, along with his shadow of a ward, Tallia, and two healers swarmed around Ormin, attempting in vain to hold him down amidst his thrashing.
“We need the armour off.” Gildrick checked Ormin’s knee, where the plate of the Sentinel armour had been cracked, blood pumping through the gaps. Several other gashes marked the plate at Ormin’s shoulder and his left arm. A Soulblade had been used to carve through the otherworldly metal.
“Brother.” Kallinvar laid his hand on Ormin’s chest, his gauntlet clinking against the metal. “I need you to recall yourarmour so Gildrick and the healers can see to the wounds. Pain is the path to strength.”
Ormin’s only answer was a grunt, followed by the man’s Sentinel armour flowing over his skin like molten steel and returning to the Sigil marked into his chest.
Brother Gildrick grimaced at the sight of Ormin’s shattered knee while Tallia turned and vomited.
“Achyron tests you, brother,” Gildrick said, cupping his hand at the side of Ormin’s face, forcing the knight to look into his eyes. “Will you rise to his test?”
