Page 191 of Of Empires and Dust
In the death of an animal, nature went to war over the rotting carcass. Wolves, foxes, kats, wolfpines, bears, even the birds and insects, all called by blood. This felt much the same to Calen. The lion was wounded and bleeding, and so the factions circled, too scared to face it while it limped and died, but ready to tear it to pieces once it hit the ground. What would happen if they finally brought the empire to its knees? What came after? Would this war simply lead to more war?
The thought had plagued Calen’s mind on more than a few nights. He’d not admit it to Aeson or Chora, but that was why he understood the need to bring the factions in Illyanara behindhim. The more structure they had in place before, the less chaos would follow after.
He pondered those thoughts as the Darkwood passed below. The fires had stopped now, no more black smoke billowing into the air. The path the Dragonguard had burned through the woodland was like a scorched wound in the forest’s flesh, carving through the wood from its very edge to the southern gates of Aravell. More blackened patches were scattered about the main path as a result of the fighting and the dragonfire.
It was strange to see the city of Aravell from so far above and without the glamour to keep it hidden. The basin within which the city sat was enormous, the valleys around it sharp and deep, the rock rising high to meet the walls. It didn’t look like a creation made of mortal hands, more like something akin to the brushstrokes of a god. If he squinted, every bridge, tower, and sweeping platform blended seamlessly with the nature around it.
Calen dared not fly too close, lest he be tempted to stop. He hated leaving Ella there alone, particularly as vulnerable as she was. Though ‘alone’ was unfair to those who watched over her. She wasn’t alone. He just hated not being there.
After a while, dark storm clouds rolled in, and the rain fell in sheets, followed by rolling thunder. Valerys brought them higher, angling upwards with such force that Calen grabbed the ridge of a scale at the base of the dragon’s neck, leaning forwards and pressing himself down. He pulled their minds together and lost himself in the bond.
The higher they rose, the more vicious the cold became, biting and slashing, but the warmth of their blood held it at bay. A blinding light filled their vision as they broke through the head of clouds, the sky above clear and blue. This place, this open sky, the wind washing over them, this was where happiness wasfound, and both Calen and Valerys could have soared for hours without a thought or a care.
But eventually the dark clouds faded, and the trees of the Darkwood yielded to cracked earth and rocky hills.
They dove, folding their wings tight against their side. The wind crashed over them, rolling across scales and skin. An untethered wildness flared in their blood at the sensation of freefall. It was the purest feeling in the world. To completely let go, to have absolutely no control of the world around you and yet to hold no fear in your heart.
They opened their wings to their fullest a few hundred feet from the ground, curving forward with such speed the force of the world dragged against them.
Calen pulled his mind back as they approached the edge of the Burnt Lands. The knights had told him the barrier around the waste was dead and gone, but still trepidation crept into his heart with each beat of Valerys’s wings. He would know as soon as they crossed the threshold.
Below, the brittle earth and dried rivers faded into sand, the dunes stretching on, and on, and on. With the sun dipping low, capitulating to the crimson moon, and the wind whipping the sand into the air, a warm orange-red light sparkled across the dunes. Despite himself, the scene took Calen’s breath from his lungs.
Staring out at the landscape, he couldn’t help but think of the words Falmin had spoken in the tunnels below Lodhar.“There is nothing more important in the darkness than a ray of light.”
In that moment, those words struck a chord within Calen. The Burnt Lands had seen more death and horror and abject darkness than any place on the continent. The Blood Moon was the harbinger of Efialtír himself, a portent of unspeakable slaughter and bloodshed. And yet, amidst the blending of thesetwo dark things, a moment of unparalleled beauty could be found.
Falmin would have appreciated the view.
Reluctantly, Calen closed his eyes. Ilnaen lay northwest, and in the endless desert, to become lost was an easy thing. But he knew that would not be his fate. He waited patiently, seeing through Valerys’s eyes as the dragon soared, the night slowly encroaching, shadows creeping over the mountains in the distance.
And then, in the quiet moment, he heard it.
Thump.
That same pulse he’d felt when he’d first entered the wastes called to him once more. It thrummed in his bones and rang in his mind.
Thump.
Just as he had then, he knew what it was that called to him now.
The beating heart of Ilnaen.
He’d spent many a dream wandering the burning streets, watching as dragons fell from the sky and crashed through buildings of white stone. He’d stood and watched as rivers of blood flowed through the grooves of paved streets and listened in horror at the screams of the thousands who burned alive. That same heartbeat, that same feeling of familiarity had permeated those dreams.
Thump.
Ilnaen called to him. The last time he had crossed the waste, he’d ignored it, but now he would answer the call. He would go to Ilnaen. Where The Order had fallen. Where the world had changed. Where the ghosts of the dead had been left to linger.
Chapter 43
Even in the Shadow
18thDay of the Blood Moon
The Burnt Lands – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Arden kneltwith his hand on the N’aka’s rib cage, his blade slick with blood. They were the strangest creatures he’d ever laid eyes on. Recesses where ears should have been, dark grey skin tight as a drum, hind legs all thickly bunched muscle.
