Page 33 of Of Empires and Dust
“Yes, Andurios?”
Dayne looked to Belina for a moment, still not quite believing what he was about to say. “I need every man and woman to cut off as much foliage as they can and lash it to their ordos.”
Belina’s face lit up. “Bethe bush!”
Some hours later,Dayne knelt about three quarters of the way down the slope towards the flat of the valley, looking out at a column of torches marching in the ever-present twilight of the Blood Moon. His ordo – or more so, his father’s ordo – was driven into the earth before him, branches and leaves lashed to its front. Dayne gripped his bow in his left hand, two quivers of arrows waiting where the shield connected with the ground.
Half his forces were spread out along the hill beside him, stretching off for hundreds of feet, masked by the same foliage strapped to their shields. The other half were positioned across the hill on the opposite side of the valley, with Mera’s Wyndarii waiting in the rear.
Ileeri and Dinekes knelt to Dayne’s right and left, half the Andurii around them. Several valynas were laid out at each warrior’s feet. The spears weren’t typically used as missiles, but they would punch through plate as though it were dry wood.
Dayne almost leapt out of his skin as Belina whispered in his ear. “Why don’t I get a shield?”
The woman had an unrivalled ability to move without making the slightest of sounds.
“Do you want a shield?”
“No, but that’s not the point.”
“Belina.”
“It’s just nice to be asked.”
Dayne allowed himself a half-smile, staring down at the grass beneath him. He lifted his gaze, meeting Belina’s. “Thank you for coming.”
Belina’s expression hardened, the perpetual note of levity abandoning her voice. “Always.” She leaned forwards and grasped Dayne’s arm. “I told you I would be here, and I am.” Belina shook her head as though trying to stop a tear, then let out a short laugh. “Look at me. I think I’ve grass in my eye.”
Dayne grasped the back of Belina’s head and pulled their foreheads tighter together. “By blade and by blood.”
“You Valtarans are so dramatic. Has anyone ever told you that?” Belina pulled away, wiping the back of her hand against her eye, then met Dayne’s gaze once more. “I’ll help you free Valtara, Dayne… or I’ll die horribly.”
“I’d rather you didn’t die at all.”
“No promises.”
Dayne turned his head at the sound of shuffling feet to find Tarine Valanis dropping to one knee beside him. “Andurios. The Thebalans are entering the valley. Our forces are in position.”
Dayne turned to Ileeri and Dinekes, who both gave him short nods.
“By blade and by blood, Andurios. They won’t leave this place,” the pair chorused.
Reaching for the Spark, Dayne pulled on threads of Air and Spirit, weaving them through his voice and mimicking anowl’s hoot. The sound carried through the valley, amplified by the threads. Within seconds, shuffling feet and heavy breaths sounded around him. He wove the thread of Spirit through his eyes, adding Fire and granting himself moonsight. Across the valley, he could see the rest of the forces readying, the foliage strapped to their shields helping them blend seamlessly with the hillside.
He glanced towards the encroaching column of Thebalans at the mouth of the valley, the light of the torches like a river of blurred fire to Dayne’s moonsight-enhanced eyes.
Dayne drew his breaths slowly, cold air filling his nostrils, warm air rolling over his lips. His pulse was steady, his heart well used to the anticipation of battle.
As the column marched forwards, Dayne closed his eyes, picturing twisting elemental strands in his mind, their light pulsing. He allowed his chest to swell with air, the slow thump of his heart sounding in his ears. In the darkness of his mind, he plucked heavy threads of Earth and Water. The hairs on his arms pricked at Water’s cool touch, the weight of Earth filling him. He pushed the threads outwards, down the hill, and into the valley floor.
He could feel the touch of the dried, cracked clay, the grass brittle and dying. After a few moments, he found what he’d been looking for: a wealth of water gently flowing through the layers of deep rock and dirt hundreds of feet below.
“Wait for it,” Belina whispered in his ear. “Waaait.”
“Belina.”
“Sorry. Old habits.”
Dayne blocked Belina out. He needed to focus. Letting out a breath, he wove his threads into the water and drew it upwards, careful to follow the paths of least resistance through the rock. The Spark was a delicate thing. If he drew the water up tooquickly or through a channel of dense rock, he would find the energy sapped from his bones in a few beats of his heart.
