Page 194 of Of Empires and Dust
Again, the world snapped and turned to blood and fire, continuously shifting and changing as Calen followed Aeson and Lyara through the raging battlefield in the sky. Nothing could have prepared Calen for the carnage that ensued.
Aeson and Lyara only flew where the fighting was thickest. They threw themselves into the heart of everything. One after another, they tore traitors from the sky. They were relentless, savage, brutal. But for every foe they slew, they watched two of their kin die.
And then something changed in the air, in the light, in the very fabric of everything. He couldfeelit. A flash of blinding light consumed Calen’s vision.
Screams followed. Screams, and shrieks, and wails, and roars.
As the light dimmed, Calen watched Lyara climb towards the sky, tearing upwards with every drop of strength in her body, flames licking at her tail, lightning flashing in the night. Across the city, hundreds of winged shapes did the same. Friend and foe were forgotten as the flames rolled over the city like a tidal wave, growing with every second, taller and wider. Everything in its path died. Every man, woman, elf, Jotnar, Urak, dragon – everything.
Any dragon who did not rise quick enough was devoured, vanishing into nothing, their dying screams swallowed whole.
Calen trembled, his heart breaking, tears streaming down his face as he watched what he had always known as ‘The Fall’. He knew now how utterly and completely inadequate that name was.
This was not a fall. It was not even a battle. It was slaughter and carnage, destruction and death on a scale incomprehensible to both heart and mind. This was everything dark and hopeless about the world.
The flames rose higher and spread relentlessly to the east and west, the light filling Calen’s eyes. Everything shifted one final time, and Calen found himself once more staring out over the ruins of the city he had just watched burn, sand glittering pink in the wind.
He slumped forwards, pressing his chest against Valerys’s warm scales, chest heaving, his brow slick with cold sweat. The dragon’s mind pulled at him, their pain shared, their agony bleeding from both hearts. Valerys had seen it too, seen the butchery – or at least he had felt it through Calen.
“I’m here,” Calen whispered.
Calen looked out over the city before them, overlaying the beauty of what he had seen atop the rubble of what remained. Allfour of the great towers were shattered. Of them all, the eastern tower retained the most of its original height but was still a shadow of what it had once been. The keep at the centre was now a mound of brown rock, with worn slits for windows and sand spilling from every crack. Its splendour was gone, its memory reduced to nothing. And the Blood Moon looked down over it all, mocking with its red light.
With a heavy sigh, Calen lifted himself so he sat upright. Everywhere he looked he saw echoes of the vision. He supposed that’s what they were – visions. Visions of the past.
Valerys banked left, the air shifting around Calen, the wind blustering against his face and through his hair. They were to meet Haem and the knights by the walls near the western hatchery tower.
Alvira’s second letter to Eluna had said she’d left ‘everything’ – whatever ‘everything’ was – at the place where they’d first met. And according to Aeson, that was the western hatchery tower. Though it was now nothing but rocks and rubble.
They found the knights precisely where they’d said they’d be, a host of fourteen, each garbed in that strange green armour.
Sand whipped in spirals as Valerys alighted at the foot of a dune, talons sinking. With the sun set, the air held the same chill as it had in the clouds, Calen’s breath pluming before him. He’d forgotten how swiftly the heat fled the Burnt Lands as the night rose.
Valerys leaned forwards, extending his winged forelimb, and Calen slid from his place at the nape of the dragon’s neck. He landed with a thump, his pulse still racing.
“Brother.” Haem marched towards Calen, his armour turning to liquid as he walked, flowing over his body and vanishing into his chest. He grasped Calen’s forearm, then pulled him in close, squeezing him in a tight bearhug. Haem let out a relieved sigh. “You had me worried.”
Calen savoured the embrace before answering. After the events of the last two years, he’d learned to savour the moments with the ones he loved. “The storm at Land’s End was unrelenting, and Valerys was still weak after Aravell. We spent the night in Fort Saldar.”
Haem pulled back and stared into Calen’s eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “You’re here now.”
The rest of the knights gathered round as Valerys lowered his head and nudged his snout into Haem’s chest, a soft rumble resonating in his throat.
Grandmaster Kallinvar greeted Calen with a grim expression, Ruon and the other knights of Haem’s chapter at his side. N’aka bodies decorated the sand, fifty or more at least.
“Any sign of the Uraks or the Lorians?” Calen asked.
Kallinvar shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not here. And even with the tear mended, the Taint still clings to this city like a parasite. We will not be alone here.” He gestured towards the packs strapped to Valerys’s chest. “I hope your armour is in there.”
The absolute silenceof Ilnaen made Arden aware of every breath he drew, every step he took, every rasp and clink of steel as he moved. Sounds echoed in the city, bouncing off the sand-stained rock and along the exposed paved path where the winds had cleared the cracked stone. If Bloodspawn or Lorians did await them within the city’s depths, they would have heard them coming the moment they’d passed the walls.
Arden eyed the rooftops and the vacant windows, looking for shifting shadows or any signs of movement.
Awhooshsounded as Valerys swept overhead, whipping up sand in his wake, his massive white wings glinting like rubies in the moon’s light.
It had been agreed that the dragon would scout overhead while Calen and the knights searched the ruins of the western tower. At the least, if something came for them, they would have warning.
“He seems different,” Lyrin whispered, gesturing to Calen, who walked ahead, the purple glow of the runes in his armour washing over the sand.
