Page 209 of Of Empires and Dust
“They’re the ones. Victors of the Hunt. Brought back an Urak head! Never seen the likes of it.”
Dahlen started laughing. He downed his tankard, draining it to the last drop, then ran his hands through his hair, the rumbles of the laugh still clinging to his throat.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s just a very small world. Calen’s father…”
“Vars was a damn good friend.” Erdhardt clenched his jaw, memories of Vars swelling in his heart. They’d been close ever since they’d been children, and he missed his friend dearly. He missed a lot of people dearly.
“Aye.” Darda clacked his tankard off the table in agreement. “And a damn good man to boot. Finer than me, and finer than any of you, that’s for sure!” He laughed at that, sipping at his ale. “That was until those Lorian bastards killed him in cold blood.” Darda hocked and spat on the floor, true anger in his eyes. The Darda Vastion Erdhardt knew was cool and calm, very reserved. This was almost an entirely different man. “When I heard what happened… Fuck them. Fuck them all to the void. Lorian fucking scum.”
“You got something to say?” A man in red and black leathers stood behind Darda, his chest puffed out, the look of drink in his eyes.
“Fuck,” Dahlen whispered.
“Lorian scum,” Darda said again.
“Stand up like a man and say that to my face.”
Within a split-second, Darda was on his feet, nose to nose with the Lorian. And in the same span of time, six more men and women in red and black had emerged from the throng of people like hungry dogs.
“Shit for brains. Ugly as fuck. Would look better on fire. Lorian. Scum.” Darda made sure to emphasise every syllable. “You killed my friend. Killed him in the streets of his home, killed his wife, his daughter.”
“And they probably fucking deserved it.”
Dahlen leapt to his feet, placing a hand on both men, pushing them apart. “Not the time for it. You go back to your drinks, we’ll go back to ours. Ale is our friend and enemy both.”
“Like fuck we will.” Darda slapped at Dahlen’s hand, but the young man held him firm and pushed him back, glaring into his eyes. Thannon rose beside Dahlen, jaw clenched.
Erdhardt got to his feet, fighting the urge to sling his hammer from his back.
“We come down here to these southlands and bleed for you fuckers. And this is what you do? We don’t wanna be here. We’re stuck here with you ungrateful shitsacks.” The man shoved Dahlen in the chest, the other Lorians moving closer.
“Don’t do that again.”
“Or what? You’re that one they all call ‘Lord Captain’, aren’t you?” The Lorian scoffed, grinning and shaking his head. “I’ve got boots older than you. Why the fuck does Exarch Dorman listen to a word you say?”
The man pushed Dahlen in the chest again, but this time Dahlen remained rooted to the ground, his stare fixed.
“You’re drunk. And we lose enough warriors to the Uraks. Turn around and walk away, and we’ll all laugh about this in the morning.”
“You talk like a real man, you know that? I heard you. Heard you all. Smuggling weapons to the rebels in the North. I should go to Exarch Dorman and have you strung up for treason.”
Something in Dahlen shifted, something in the way his gaze hardened. Nimara and Almer lifted themselves from the bench, hands resting on the axes that hung from their hips. The other dwarves and Belduarans at the table did the same. Dahlen leaned forwards. “You don’t seem to understand your place here, Lorian. Say one more word.”
Erdhardt made to rest his hand on Dahlen’s shoulder, but then the Lorian shoved the young man one last time and the whole void broke loose.
Dahlen grabbed the man’s fingers and snapped them back, bone breaking through flesh. The Lorian had a fraction of a second to scream before Dahlen reached his right hand forward, grabbed the back of the man’s head, and slammed his face into the table with enough force that a pair of tankards tipped over. He slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
A second Lorian piled in after the first, but again Dahlen dropped the man in a heartbeat. A swift punch to the throat followed by an elbow to the face that made Erdhardt wince.
Nimara tackled the third before he got anywhere near Dahlen, while Thannon, Yoring, and Darda Vastion smashed into a group of the others.
Erdhardt contemplated joining in but found it much more entertaining to just watch. The only man Erdhardt had ever seen who could match Dahlen with a sword was Vars Bryer, but the young man was just as efficient with his fists.
The crowd spread wide, forming a circle as more Lorians charged in, drunk and howling.
One man threw a punch at Dahlen’s head, only for Dahlen to turn so the man was at his back and the arm slid over his shoulder. Dahlen wrapped both hands around the Lorian’s wrist and pulled downward. A horriblesnapaccompanied the inhuman way the man’s arm shattered.
