Page 384 of Of Empires and Dust
“Lord Captain!” Camwyn surged past Dahlen and smashed her shoulder into the chest of a Bloodmarked that was only seconds away from ripping its claws through Erdhardt and Dahlen both.
The beast stumbled back half a step, its feet sliding in the mud, then drove its clawed hand into Camwyn’s back. The obsidian claws burst out from the woman’s steel breastplate, blood flowing in rivers.
“Camwyn!” Dahlen made to charge but hands grabbed him and pulled him back.
Nimara was at his side, her face and armour smeared with blood as though she’d bathed in it, those eyes still a vibrant yellow, her pupils wide as the moon. Nimara didn’t speak, but she dragged Dahlen back, her grip like iron.
The Bloodmarked lifted Camwyn into the air by its claws, her body convulsing, and then it unleashed a guttural roar and flames burst outwards from its hand, consuming Camwyn entirely, her screams resounding in Dahlen’s head.
In that brief moment, two others that had charged with him were hacked to pieces by Urak steel, chunks of flesh slapping into the forming puddles in the mud.
Nimara yanked Dahlen backwards, then moved past him and swung her axe upwards, cleaving through the skull of a lunging Urak.
With the battle raging around him, his mind lost itself in Camwyn’s scream, in the blood and the death and the horror of it all. And for an instant, he was frozen, his heart galloping, his blood like ice in his veins.
No. Not now. No.Dahlen drew a sharp breath and steadied himself. And as he did, a group of riders atop massive black mounts crashed through the Uraks before him, the white stags at their side.
One of the riders in blood-splattered steel with a white dragon emblazoned on his breastplate opened an Urak’s neck. Dahlen held his breath, spotting the triangular pommels of the man’s swords. “Erik?”
Erik smiled beneath his helm. “It’s good to see you, brother. I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m going to need you to run.”
As Erik spoke, the other riders fell in around him. The Uraks and Bloodmarked pushed forwards, but the elven mages ripped them apart, shards of earth and broken metal swirling in the air, slicing through anything that moved. Even then, mages fell from their mounts, black spears and arrows punching through their armour and flesh.
Nimara pulled on Dahlen once more, and they charged back towards the thoroughfare. Erdhardt appeared at their side, blood streaming from a wound in his side and a gash sliced along his left cheek. Bits of torn grey flesh clung to the face of his hammer.
They rushed down the street, buildings closing around them. Archers stood on the rooves, ready for what was to come. Ahead, a deep trench had been dug, a wooden bridge drawn across it, while many of the side streets had been lined with spiked blockades.
Dahlen glanced over his shoulder to see Erik and the cavalry moving towards the mouth of the street, hacking their way through any Uraks that dared come close. A black spear turned in the air, only inches from an elven mage’s head, and lodged itself in the wall of the building behind. Three more spears flew, and each of them were turned away by something unseen, but the fourth found home and sank into the mage’s chest, knocking him limp on his mount’s back. Without wasting a moment, the white stag bucked its rider to the ground and charged down the thoroughfare. Erik and the others followed, arcs of purple lightning crashing into the sides of the buildings as they ran.
For a brief moment, Dahlen caught sight of a Fade standing amidst the Urak bodies, its light-drinking eyes fixed on him. The creature stood still as a statue, just staring. With an eerie rigidity, it lifted its hand and clenched its fingers into a fist.A scream rang out, and Dahlen watched as a score of the riders’ breastplates dented and bent as though being struck by hammers, the white dragon collapsing inwards. Shrieks pierced the night as the metal split skin and cracked bone, the sounds cutting short as bodies fell from saddles, limp and lifeless, horses charging on without them.
Dahlen snapped his head back around and bounded across the makeshift bridge.
Lanan, Kara Thain, and the rest of the Silver Wolves waited on the other side, along with hundreds of men and women who had fallen back from the gates. They all stood ready with shields, spears, and swords, giving space for those who crossed.
Once over, Nimara dropped her shield, grabbed Dahlen by the sides of his head, and kissed him, her lips tasting of iron. The yellow had gone from her eyes, leaving them bloodshot, dark circles beneath. She drew in ragged breaths, rain carving paths in the blood on her cheeks. “Stop being a hero,” she said through gritted teeth. “And start being a leader. Every soul here looks to you. You are their heart. That makes your life worth more, whether you like it or not. If they see you fall, they will break.”
“What was that back there? Your eyes? That strength…”
“A gift of my people. Later.” She hefted her shield back into place, then stared at him once more. “Stop being a hero.”
As Erik and the riders approached the trench in the street, the archers above rained death on the Uraks giving chase. Many of the beasts took several arrows before falling, but they did fall. He spotted Tharn Pimm among the archers, nocking and loosing in rapid succession. Streaks of purple lightning smashed into the buildings, tearing chunks from stone and igniting those of wood, screams echoing.
The riderless horses were the first to reach the trench. The first of the animals skidded to a halt as it approached the spikes, stopping just long enough to take an Urak spear to the neckand stagger into the open pit. The horse squealed and kicked for barely a second before going limp, wooden stakes jutting through its body.
Erik and others followed, some bounding the gap, others charging over the bridge. Once the last of them was across, the defenders hauled the bridge back and formed a line of shields from building to building.
Erik swung his leg over the horse and dismounted. He pulled his helmet from his head, eyes searching for Dahlen.
Dahlen ran to his brother and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into an iron grip.
“You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?” Erik returned Dahlen’s embrace, his voice muffled through Dahlen’s shoulder.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Dahlen said, pulling away and looking over his brother. “The new armour could do with a bit of a polish.”
“It was clean before I marched halfway across Illyanara to save your hide.”
“Can you even move in that thing?”
