Page 345 of Of Empires and Dust
A fury rose within Valerys at Tivar’s words, and he lurched and plummeted towards the ground. They would not be separated again. He would not allow it. Valerys spun as he unfurled his wings and raked dragonfire across the Lorianlines. Varthear followed, mimicking Valerys’s movements. She crashed down into a column of Lorian soldiers, rending steel and bone with her talons and jaws, charging forwards before lifting into the air once more.
An arc of lightning streaked upwards, primed to tear into Varthear’s wing before Calen erected a ward and redirected the lightning to the ground, tearing a contingent of Lorian soldiers to pieces.
Valerys roared in answer to the Lorian lightning, the pressure surging through him as he once more opened his jaws and rained death from above.
“Valerys,” Calen whispered as they rose again, “it doesn’t matter how many we kill out here if they all die in there.”
A deep growl reverberated in Valerys’s chest, and he unleashed a mighty roar.
“We didn’t fly here to let them die, Valerys. If the Lorians have broken through, then Tivar and I need to get inside and do whatever we can.”
Memories flooded from Valerys to Calen. Memories of Drifaien, the loneliness, the agony, the helplessness. Memories from the dungeons in Berona and from Ilnaen, and from every moment they’d spent apart. Every time they were separated, Valerys’s soul bled. He could not keep Calen safe if they were apart, and every time they were apart, darkness swallowed them.
Calen leaned forwards and closed his eyes, resting his hands against Valerys’s scales. “It is our purpose, Valerys. To fight, to save whomever we can. It is the reason we found each other. Ella and Therin are inside. Will you let them die? Or will you give the Lorians fire and fury while I fight within the mountain?” Calen drew a breath and pressed his helmet against Valerys’s neck. It had often been the dragon who had givenhimwarmth, Valerys who had filled the cracks in Calen. Now, it was Calen’s turn to dothe same. “Lumisín viel, viel ayar. I denír viël ar altinua. La’uva umirís tiastri du.”
Wherever we are, we are one. In this life and always. I will never leave you.
Valerys unleashed another roar in answer, rage and fury surging through him. He swooped back across the battlefield, raking fire in his path as he went. The dragon angled his wings and swept upwards, tearing through the skies towards the mountain, Avandeer and Varthear in his wake.
Valerys soared around the eastern rock face of the Firnin Mountains, and Calen spotted the circular opening Tivar had spoken of, set into the top of a flat peak thousands of feet from the ground. It was barely five or six feet across.
The dragon swept forwards and alighted on the rock, Calen sliding from his back. Both Avandeer and Varthear landed to Valerys’s left, Tivar dismounting and walking towards Calen.
“Their mages are learning to shield in groups,” Tivar said as she approached. “But if the dragons can keep them occupied, wreak as much havoc as possible, then at the least we can find a way to get the others out. We need to move quickly. The longer we take, the more likely it is that Eltoar and the others will come. I saw beacons lit on one of the far hills. We get in. Save who we can. Get out. If the dragons can cause enough damage to the Lorian armies, they will be in no shape to pursue any rebels.”
Calen inclined his head to Tivar before looking back to Valerys. “Myia nithír til diar, Valerys. Anataier aldryr ar orimyn.”
My soul to yours, Valerys. Give them fire and fury.
The dragon let out a low rumble and pressed the side of his snout into Calen’s chest. A wave of emotions flowed from Valerys’s mind to Calen’s, a rush of images and memories, all telling Calen one thing: protect the bond.
“Altinua,” Calen whispered.Always.
The three dragons lifted towards the sky, wind swirling as they cracked their wings.
“Together,” Tivar said, walking towards the edge of the circular opening in the rock.
“Together.”
Calen drew a long breath, then dropped into the opening and wrapped himself in threads of Air. He exhaled slowly as he fell. Just before his feet touched the ground, he drove the threads downwards, cracks spreading out as his feet touched the rock. Tivar landed beside him less than a heartbeat later, light as a feather.
About them, rebels armed with swords and spears fought back a clutch of Lorians in red and black leather, the thrum of the Spark in the air.
Calen sprang forwards, reaching out with threads of Air as he did, wrapping them around the Lorian Battlemage who stood closest to him and pulling. As the man hurtled through the air towards him, Calen pulled on each elemental strand and summoned his níthral, a bright purple light bursting from his fist. With the blade forming in his fist, he swung and cleaved the man in half across the navel. The two pieces dropped to the ground, innards spilling into the dirt.
Valerys roared in Calen’s mind as Calen kept moving, bounding over a corpse and cutting a second Lorian down before the woman had a chance to turn. A third charged him, but he caught the blow high while focusing a sphere of Air into his left hand and slamming it into the Lorian’s chest. He could feel the soldier’s ribs shatter with the force as the body soared backwards almost twenty feet.
Most of the Lorians had turned to face him and Tivar now. A pulse of the Spark sent a tingle down his spine, and Calen wove threads of Spirit, Fire, and Air together just in time to form a Sparkward. The lightning crashed against Calen’s ward,breaking over its surface. Just as Calen had done when training with the others in Aravell, he pulsed Spirit through the ward and sent the Lorian hurtling back into the wall behind him.
Calen took the opportunity to close the distance between them. He drew his sword as the Battlemage recovered and surged forwards, steel in his fist. The first swing came at Calen’s left thigh. He fell into the svidarya, his muscles acting on reflex. The second swing was a downstroke at Calen’s skull. Calen blocked the strike and swept it left. As he twisted to make the killing blow, a fine thread of Air slammed into the Lorian’s neck and snapped it clean, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he collapsed.
Tivar pulled her sword from a Lorian chest, one hand outstretched towards Calen. The blood dripped from the steel as she approached, eyes scanning their surroundings.
They stood in a massive circular chamber, sparring pits set about the central area, chairs and benches lining the outer rim.
Men and woman of all ages stood staring, spears, swords, and axes clutched in their hands. It took one glance for Calen to see that these were hard people but not soldiers. They were garbed in mismatched patches of leather over tunics, covered in crusted-in dirt, blood and sweat marring their faces.
Two men and a woman approached, a tension in the way they moved, their eyes flitting from Calen to Tivar.
