Page 223 of Of Empires and Dust
Calen took a step, his heart pounding, and the world spun once more. Colours muddled and turned to blotches as they shifted around him, smearing like paint. When everything settled, he stood on the central platform of the vault’s first level. Lanterns burned, frantic chatter filled the air, and people darted all about him. Three Highguard stood at his side with satchels of eggs strapped to their backs.
A vicious crack sounded from the vault’s door, followed by a roaring explosion. Shards of stone and black glass ripped through the air, dust pluming.
Beside him, a sliver of obsidian as long as his forearm blurred past and lodged itself in a Dracårdare’s throat, blood sluicing as the woman thrashed on the ground, twitching in her death throes.
Screams of agony echoed in the massive cavern, rocks still tumbling, the clink of black glass against stone dancing on the air like music. The crimson runes of Bloodmarked glowed through the settling dust, and the Uraks poured forth, black steel and claws tearing flesh and bone.
“Draleid Kollna.” One of the Highguard looked from Calen to the charging horde. “We must stand. Without us they?—”
“No.” The word was like acid on Calen’s tongue. The Dracårdare were not warriors. They would die like babes to the Urak steel. And yet, he had no choice but to leave them. The eggs were more important. They were everything.
The world shifted, and Calen was charging up a stairwell, pushing past anyone in his way. Below, the Uraks swarmed through the vault, Fades and Bloodmarked among them.
A flash and Calen stood in the hidden chamber, torches blazing. He set the six eggs onto the platform beside the three already there. Eluna had never come for them. For a moment he feared what might have happened to her, but that thought died quickly. Eluna’s life meant little now. At least she had brought others to safety, wherever that may have been. With the runes set, these eggs would be safe here.
A call rang out from the corridor, and Calen turned to see the three Highguard fighting and dying as Uraks and a pair of Fades charged. Calen drew on all five elemental strands, a spear of white light forming in his hand.
The world blurred and twisted, and Calen found himself on the floor, his back resting against the stone platform, blood pouring from the two holes the Fades had poked in his side.
The door was closed. He had closed it. Beyond that, the glamour was set once more. The runes marked into the floor were ignited. He had done all he could, given all he had to give. Even if the Uraks destroyed every other egg in the city, these nine would be safe.
That was all he could do. That was everything. Instinctively, he reached for the touch of his soulkin’s mind. The feeling of emptiness cut into him. He had felt Tinua die, felt his soul break and shatter. The dragon had faced his end with as much courage as he had faced everything in life, protecting a clutch of fledglings as they fled the city. Protecting those who needed him. There was no greater cause.
“An honourable death,” Calen whispered, coughing, tasting blood in his mouth. The words were in Kollna’s voice. “I will be with you again soon, my heart of hearts.” In his last moments, Calen’s thoughts went to his young apprentice. He hoped Corenand Aldryn still drew breath. “Daughter of the sea. You are ready. Fly.”
The world shifted, and Calen found himself kneeling on the stone floor, once more seeing through his own eyes. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Staring at Kollna’s remains, he reached out to Valerys and pulled their minds so tightly together he could not tell where the dragon stopped and he began. Wind rolled over their scales and tears flowed from their eyes. They saw both Kollna and the broken city. Their heart bled as they stared at the ruins of everything that had been lost. At the blood that had been spilled, the lives taken, the bonds destroyed.
“Alura anis, Tinua ar Kollna, davitir un Luan,” Calen whispered. “Draleid n’aldryr, Rakina nai dauva. Du é alanín til ata ilynír abur er kerta.”
Rest now, Tinua and Kollna, daughter of Luan. Dragonbound by fire, Broken by death. You are called to make whole what is half.
As Calen stood, the knights waited silently, not a word passing between them. Both Kallinvar and Haem watched him, but the others turned their gazes elsewhere in the chamber.
Calen wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his gauntlet. “She gave her life to bring these eggs here,” he whispered, explaining. “Gave her life to protect them.”
Calen stepped forwards and brushed the dust from the closest egg to reveal buttercream scales with streaks of green.
“Why?” Kallinvar moved to the other side of the platform, examining the eggs, his stare harsh and sceptical. “Whytheseeggs? And whyhere? There were thousands of eggs in the city.”
Calen shook his head. “Nottheseeggs. Just any eggs she could save, any eggs she could carry. They would be safe here, hidden from the Uraks.”
“These must be the runes you spoke of in the letter.” Ruon knelt beside a glowing rune carved into the stone. “What are they for?”
“I don’t know runecraft.” Calen proceeded to brush the dust from a second egg, the light glinting a deep orange from the scales. “They were to protect this place – to protect the eggs.”
“There has to be more,” Kallinvar cut across, his tone sharp.
Calen looked up to see the man marching about the chamber. Kallinvar swept his hands across a desk Calen hadn’t even realised was there. Once Calen had seen Kollna and the eggs, he’d not looked about for anything more.
“Heart of Blood,” Kallinvar muttered, whipping through the pages of a journal that had rested on the desk. When Calen had met Kallinvar before, the man had seemed strong as iron, unshakable. But the man before him now was something else, erratic and frayed. He turned and gestured at the other knights. “Search everything.”
It was only then that Calen took the time to look about the rest of the room. Two swords hung on the far wall, sitting on either side of a suit of armour atop a polished wooden stand. The desk at which Kallinvar stood was one of two. Both were stacked with sticks of wax, journals, scrolls, and piles of parchment. Chests sat beneath the desks, heavy and wooden, inlaid with gold. The more he looked, the more he saw. This must have been where Alvira had kept everything of value to her… perhaps even the Archons before her.
“We take all of it with us. Nothing remains. Gildrick and the Watchers can sort through it. If the Heart of Blood is here, we will find it.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Calen didn’t allow even a hint of hesitation in his voice. He needed to be firm here, needed to be strong. “These are the possessions of Alvira Serris. The lastArchon of the Draleid. By rights, they belong to her people. You can’t just?—”
“With respect.” Kallinvar’s voice held no malice or venom. It was simply cold and steady. “Alvira is dead. She has no need for anything here.”
