Page 275 of Of Empires and Dust
Something moved in the corner of Ella’s vision, and Aneera stepped forwards. She inclined her head to Ella and placed her palm against her forehead. “You move swift as the wind.”
Ella returned the Angan’s gesture.
Aneera repeated the greeting to Calen. “Son of the Chainbreaker.”
“You brought her back to us.” Calen pressed his palm to his forehead and reached out his hand. “That is a debt I can never repay.”
Aneera stared down at Calen’s hand as though it were a red-hot poker. But after a few moments, she wrapped a clawed hand around his forearm, and he did the same with hers.
“I did not do it alone.” Aneera looked over Calen’s shoulder, first to the right, then the left, then all about. Fenryr Angan stalked from the shadows around the white homes on the plateau. Fifteen in total.
“Another wolfchild returns.” The voice was deep and measured, and Ella knew it instantly.
Fenryr walked up the path behind Ella, Sennik and the four other druids at his back, their keepers strolling beside them. The god walked slowly, a black tunic clinging tight to his body.
Calen rose to his feet, eyes narrowing at Fenryr. He didn’t speak, but Ella knew the feeling she could see in his eyes, his mouth slightly ajar, lips searching for words. Calen couldfeelFenryr’s presence in the same way she could.
Fenryr pressed his hand to his forehead as he passed Ella. He reached out to place his hands on Calen’s shoulders, but Calen stepped backwards and lifted a hand.
In the span of a heartbeat, everything shifted. Valerys let out a screech of sorts, a clicking sound coming from his throat, and the dragon moved to stand over Calen, lips pulling back in a snarl. Valerys’s spearhead tail whipped back and forth in the air before going rigid.
“Who are you, and how are you in my head?” Calen held his left hand between himself and the god, his right hovering near his sword.
“Do not fear, young one. There is much?—”
“There is much I don’t know. Yes, I’m aware. But one thing I will know is your name.” Calen’s eyes shimmered with a faint purple light, and his stare grew hard.
Fenryr nodded. “There is not a doubt in this world of the wolf in your blood. I would have it no other way. I am Fenryr.”
Calen stared back, wordless, as rigid and wary as Valerys.
“I can feel your doubt, feel it creeping through your blood –myblood.Wolfblood. You are of the Pathfinders, seeker of thepaths once walked. A rare Gift, particularly in these times. Your mother was Gifted as such. Though she saw the paths yet to be walked, the paths that may yet be or may fade from the light. The last of my blood with such a Gift.”
“My mother?”
“As I tried to say, there is much you do not know, but nothing I will keep from you.”
Calen continued to stare into Fenryr’s eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly. “The things I’ve seen… the visions… are they real?”
“Seeing the paths is not straight forward, young one. Though the paths once walked are more so than those yet to be. The events are real, for a certainty. But they are coloured by the lenses you look through. I will let you settle, but tonight I will answer every question you ask of me. At least those that are within my capacity to answer.”
“Tonight.” Calen nodded. “But first I would eat with my sister and drink,” he said, looking to Ella. “If Lasch still has mead?”
“Well, you and Dann haven’t been around to drink it all.”
Calen smiled, turning back to Ella. “Have you seen Haem?”
Ella shook her head. None of the knights had been to Aravell since she’d woken. She’d hoped that when Calen returned, he’d do so with their brother at his side.
The smile evaporated from Calen’s lips, supplanted by a sombre line.
Footfalls echoed through the basin from the archway that led back to the city. Images of Therin, Gaeleron, Chora, and several Dracurïn marching along the path drifted from Faenir’s mind.
The Dracurïn lined up in two rows of five, pressing their hands to their breastplates, their backs straight and stiff, their chins raised. They all stared at Calen like some hero of old.
Gaeleron walked to Calen and pressed his fist to his chest before grasping Calen’s forearm. “Draleid. It is good to see you return.”
“And it’s good to see you not walking around with that stick. Valdrin must have finished your armour before he left then?” A warm smile adorned her brother’s lips, his gaze moving from Gaeleron’s smooth, gleaming boots to his pristine white cloak ornamented with golden leaves. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that she looked closely, she realised she’d never seen even a speck of dirt on Gaeleron’s armour, never so much as a stain or a mark on his cloak. The steel was always so polished she could have used it as a mirror.
