Page 355 of Of Empires and Dust
Coren stopped for a moment, steadying herself, the wingbeats growing louder. The fog above shifted and swirled, parting as a massive figure descended.
A dragon larger even than Sardakes emerged from the grey, thick tendrils of fog whipping around its silver-streaked orange scales. The membrane of its wings shimmered gold, and the horns that grew from its skull were three times as long as Calen was tall. The creature was immense, its muscles thick and powerful, eyes like swirling fire.
The dragon cracked its wings and alighted over Coren, a deep rumble in its throat followed by a high-pitched whine as it stretched its neck forwards and brushed its jaw against Varthear’s.
The dragon lowered its head to Coren and nuzzled into her shoulder, like a horse nuzzling a mouse.
“For nearly three centuries, I kept Aldryn safe. A dead dragon cannot be killed. New eggs were not hatching, and dragons were dying in their scores. Aldryn was amongst the last.” Coren shook her head, tears dripping from her chin. “I refused to let him die like all the others, pointlessly, needlessly… If we kept fighting as we were, Helios would have ripped him from the sky. The Dragonguard were too many, and we too few. I made a choice.” She swallowed hard, running her tongue along her teeth. “When we found Aeson and the others, I told them Aldryn had died.I told them the Dragonguard had murdered my soulkin along with Farwen’s. And for all these years, I pretended to know their pain, to know what it is to be Rakina.”
“Why?”
“Because none of it made sense. When you watch dragons fall from the sky like rain, you understand that there is no rhyme nor reason, only death. Being stronger, more powerful, it meant nothing. So many dragons larger and stronger than Aldryn perished the night Ilnaen fell, without more than a whimper. Alvira’s soulkin, Vyldrar, was a legend. His name was whispered in the halls where I apprenticed. And yet he died like all the rest. My master’s soulkin, Tinua, she never saw another sky after Ilnaen.”
“She died fighting,” Calen said without a thought.
Coren stared at him for a moment as though she wanted to question what he’d said but continued. “It was Farwen who suggested it. After Karakes killed Syndril over the Aonan Wood and I found Farwen broken and alone, she made me promise to not throw Aldryn’s life away, said there was no reason for him to die. That we could keep fighting while keeping him safe, in the hope that one day a time would come where every drop of blood we had spilled, every moment we had given, would amount to something. A time where Aldryn’s strength could make the difference.”
Aldryn lifted his head in the air, looking into Valerys’s eyes.
“That time has come. The Dragonguard are only three now. Time has brought them low, and their numbers no longer swell the sky. No matter how little I trust her,” she said, glancing at Tivar, “she is right in one thing. I know Eltoar, I know how he hunts and kills, I know the measure of his mercy. If he had wanted us dead, we would be dead. We could run, but there is no telling what course that might lead us on.” She took a few steps towards Tivar, her soulkin, Aldryn, looming over her, a deepgrowl in his throat. “If you betray us, I will rip you apart piece by piece. I will break you. Believe me when I say there is no power in this world that could stand in my way.”
“I will not,” Tivar responded simply, returning Coren’s stare.
Coren held Tivar’s gaze for a few moments longer before offering her hand to Calen. “Det være myia haydria na iralíse nai din siel, akar.”
It would be my honour to fly by your side, brother.
Calen moved forwards and offered his hand to Coren. “Ar myialí na iralíse nai diar, Coren Valmar, Davitir un il’Ilaríal.”
And mine to fly by yours, Coren Valmar, Daughter of the Sea.
“Though perhaps Aldryn should stay hidden for just a little longer.”
“What do you mean?”
Calen smiled.
Chapter 83
All Paths Converge
22ndDay of the Blood Moon
Firnin Mountains – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Eltoar stoodon the open plain, his helmet in the crook of his arm, exhaling slowly through his nostrils as he stared at the vast expanse of grey fog that blanketed the foothills of the mountain. He had seen this magic before in the hands of the elves of Lynalion – which posed even more questions.
“Why do we wait?” Voranur growled, one hand resting on his sword pommel as he glared down at the fog. “Did you not see the destruction they have wrought? How many thousands burned alive? They are not our allies, Eltoar. Let us be done with them now, so that we need not look two ways. Tivar is no longer one of us. Stop letting her blind you. She is the reason Jormun and Ilkya are dead, and I will have my blood. She is a traitor, Eltoar.”
“I caution you to take care with your words, Voranur.” Eltoar stared into the elf’s eyes. Without looking, he could feel Heliosstanding over him. “Tivar means more to me than you ever will. Understand that and you will be far closer to keeping your head.”
“What will you do if I do not bow to you like a dog?” Voranur moved to stand in front of Eltoar, Seleraine shifting with him, a deep, resonant growl in her throat, her frills standing on end. “Will you strike me down? Do I not deserve to seek vengeance for the dead? What of you, Lyina? You slew Irulaian and Dravír over Antiquar, did you not? Is your bloodlust sated now? Would you shake hands with the elven Draleid if they stood before you?”
“I would carve open their throats and drink their blood.” Lyina stared off into the distance at the wall of fog. She had not been the same since losing Pellenor. “What are we to do if Salara has gotten to him first?” She looked to Eltoar and then back at the fog. “That fog is their trick, is it not?”
“We will walk that path if it faces us. For now, we know too little.”
“And how long do we stand here and wait?” Voranur asked. “A night? A year?”
