Page 155 of Of Empires and Dust
“Ar du, Draleid.”And you, Draleid.Verma gripped the man’s forearm tighter and pulled him close. Those memories had been her darkest, the ones she’d locked away and buried the key. She whispered, “Those moments were not yours to see.”
Before the Draleid could respond, Aeson pulled him away and introduced him to the others one by one.
“Come,” Ildur shouted over the storm. “Let’s get you inside before the rain seeps into your bones. The fire is roaring, and there’s some warm food to fill your bellies.”
He ordered a handful of the guards to fetch the bags and sacks strapped to the dragon’s chest. The looks on the faces of the men and women saddled with that task were ones of utter shock, which in truth was the exact response Verma herself would have given if she had been asked to fetch a bag from a dragon.
The Draleid lifted an open palm, signalling the guards to stay where they were, then walked to the dragon and pulled off two sacks and a satchel, swinging them over his shoulder. He handed them to Aeson, then turned to address Aurelian. “I’ll stay for food, Lord Animar, but not the night. Valerys and I must be back in the air.”
“The storm is too fierce, Calen.” Aeson rested a hand on Calen’s shoulder. “And Valerys is tired. We’ll have food brought to him. Let him rest, and leave at dawn.”
The Draleid looked back at Aeson for a few moments before nodding and heading back for the rest of the bags.
After supper had been served,Verma and the others stood about the fireplace in one of Fort Saldar’s many drawing rooms. Cups of wine had been poured and poured again, and the fire’s warmth sank into Verma’s bones.
Aeson sat on a long couch, conversing with Pylvír, Andira, and Pylvír’s Ayar Elwyn, Elara. Fearn had joined them, along with Ithaca, and they both sat in armchairs on the far side of the room, fresh cups of wine in their hands. It had taken the better part of a year for Verma to trust the Ardanian sellsword after what had happened on the journey back from Valacia. But Ithaca had worked hard and helped recruit more than a few souls to the rebellion.
Ildur, Heraya bless his ageing heart, was passed out in a leather chair by the fire, his wine cup still gripped firmly in his fingers. The man was nearing his sixtieth summer. He could still cut his way through a battle like he had barely seen thirty, but time was slowly creeping up on him. He deserved a rest.
Across the way, near a long table with clay vases of wine and empty bowls of beef stew, the Draleid pulled himself away from a conversation with a handful of the Stormguard captains, letting out a puff of air as he walked towards the fireplace.
“Enjoying yourself?” Verma asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice as the man stopped in front of the fire and stared into the flames. The Stormguard captains had all but chained him to the table, launching question after question at him. She didn’t blame them. He was a Draleid. To them, he was a thing of legend, a symbol, a hero. To her, he looked like a young man who had been forced to become something he’d never asked to be and had lost a great deal because of it. She could see it in the way his eyes always glanced towards the floor after he spoke, in the way his smiles faded and cracked, and in the rigid and practiced nature of his posture. It was a strange irony that the greatest of hopes always landed on the youngest of shoulders.
“Hmm.” He glanced her way, that smile forming then breaking. “It’s a nice respite from only having Aeson for conversation.”
Verma snorted, sipping at her wine. “I feel that pain.”
“I apologise for earlier.” Calen’s tone grew sombre in a heartbeat. “It’s not something I can control. And it’s not happened in a while… I don’t…” He trailed off, staring back into the fire. “I’m sorry.”
Verma had lived long enough to know a truth from a lie. The young man’s words were genuine. Over the course of the supper, she had trawled through her memories, trying to remember where she’d seen that kind of power before. At last, she’d landed on the works of old Duran Linold.Druids, a Magic Lost.It had been five centuries since she’d read that book.
“What did you see?”
Calen bit down on his lip, folding his arms. “Death…” His voice cracked a little. “So much death. And other things… things I had no right to see.”
“No, you didn’t. But what is done is done.” She tapped the rim of her cup against her lips. “Do you know what you are?”
The Draleid turned his gaze from the fire, his peculiar eyes locking with hers.
“You do then. I’ve never met a druid before, not in the flesh.” The Draleid flinched at the word. “Does Aeson know? I suspect he does. There’s not much gets past him.”
Before Calen could answer, Aurelian stepped between the two, his hands clasped behind his back, the fireplace’s flames casting a warm glow on his skin. The man wore a grey tunic with the emblem of the Stormguard – a shield with twin bolts of lightning – on its breast. He greeted both Calen and Verma with a nod.
Aurelian picked a piece of meat from between his teeth with his tongue, staring into the flames with the same intensity theDraleid had. “Your chambers have been prepared, Draleid,” he said without lifting his gaze. “Aeson Virandr informs me you are to make for the Darkwood come daybreak. I will not be offended if you retire early.”
Another broken, placating smile. “Thank you, Lord Animar.”
“No lord, Draleid. Just a man.”
“Thank you, nonetheless. Aeson told me this was an old Stormguard fort,” he said, looking around the room. “But this place is far more than that. An army of thousands couldn’t take it. How, may I ask, did it end up in the hands of rebels?”
Animar gave a short laugh. “Fort Saldar was built some fourteen hundred years ago, back when the five kingdoms warred for Arkalen. It was the heart of the Sakarnan Kingdom, an impregnable fortress that could see for miles in all directions, garrisoned by the legendary Sakarnan Stormguard. It was a wonder of the age. But when the Sakarnans refused to submit after The Fall, the Lorians torched the land in all directions and the mages poisoned the soil. The fortress was all but abandoned some two hundred years ago. There’s nothing out here save for storms and rocks. An impregnable fortress is little use to anyone if it’s in the arse end of nowhere. A skeleton garrison was left to keep it operational should it be needed. High Lord Syrene Linas and myself don’t quite see eye to eye, to put it delicately. She couldn’t remove me as the High Mantle of the Stormguard, not while I had the loyalty of my brothers and sisters. But she could exile me here to waste away on this ‘worthless rock’, as she put it.” Aurelian let out a long sigh, staring into the flames. “I’m afraid I didn’t get to converse with you over supper. May I be candid?”
“I’d prefer it.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Nor I, you.”
