Page 452 of Of Empires and Dust
Anya handed Calen a waterskin, and he poured water onto the loose earth.
He knelt there with his hand pressed into the soil, his eyes fixed on the small sapling.
His mam and dad had been gone for so long now, but this was the first time Calen was truly saying goodbye. A hand cameto rest on his back, and he didn’t have to look to know it was Haem’s.
After a few moments, Haem pulled his hand away, and when he returned it, he held a red silk scarf with vines of gold and cream leaves blowing in the wind.
Calen looked from the scarf to Haem, asking the question with his eyes.
“I thought it would be nice if you finally got a chance to give it to her.”
Calen let out a soft laugh and took a piece of the scarf between his thumb and forefinger, feeling an immediate sense of relief at its soft touch. “You’re sure?”
“It was never mine. I was just minding it,” Haem answered. “You bought it for Mam. She should have it.”
Calen nodded softly and took the scarf into his hands. He scooped a layer of earth away, placed the scarf down, and covered it.
“The sun will set,” Haem whispered, pressing his hand to the ground beside where Calen had buried the scarf. “And it will rise again, and it will do so the next day and the next. The gods are in charge of such things, but it is by our own will that we pick ourselves up when we fall.”
Haem’s eyes glistened with tears, but none fell. He squeezed his hand into a fist, soil slipping through his fingers. “I’ve seen a lot since the day Kallinvar found me, but still our father is the greatest man I’ve ever known.”
“Cassian Tal,” Calen whispered. “Lies over lies.”
“He was still Vars Bryer.” Haem rubbed the dirt between his fingers, looking to Calen. “He still raised you, fed you, cared for you. He still held a damp cloth to your head for days on end when you got that fever, remember? You’d only seen five, maybe six, summers. He never left your side. Not for a minute. He slept on the floor beside you. Erdhardt was losing his mind because heneeded horseshoes and Dad hadn’t stepped foot in the forge for days. He will always be that man.”
“I remember.” Calen did remember. His mam had said he’d been lucky to keep his life with that fever. He only remembered flashes, but his dad was in all of them.
“He taught you to use that sword,” Haem said, gesturing to the sword at Calen’s hip. “And he did a damn good job.”
Calen dropped his hand to the coin pommel of his father’s sword, the cool touch of the steel calming him.
“Cassian Tal, Vars Bryer – the name doesn’t matter. He was our dad, and he was a hero of legend to me long before I knew anything about Cassian Tal.” Haem dropped the last of the dirt from his hand. “I wouldn’t change a day.”
Calen gripped the coin pommel tighter. “Neither would I.” He drew a sharp breath. “I just miss him. I wish he was here.”
“Me too.”
Valerys lowered his neck, his snout brushing the ground beside the two saplings, a low rumble reverberating in his throat. The dragon blew a warm breath over the soil, a wave of loss cresting into Calen’s mind. He let out a whine, Varthear watching from behind him.
That whine grew into a deep growl as Valerys lifted his head. The dragon spread his wings and roared at the sky, Varthear joining him.
The roar was sadness, and emptiness, and a deep sense of sorrow for a father he had never known. A father who had forged half of his soul.
Both Calen and Haem stood as the two dragons roared. And when their voices grew silent, Calen saw that Erdhardt, Dann, Tarmon, Anya, and Vaeril and all the others stood about them.
Tarmon still wore his steel plate, which he’d clearly polished the day before, white cloak clasped at his shoulders. The fiveDracurïn who’d accompanied them all stood behind the High Commander, heads bowed.
“Nur temen vie’ryn valana,” Vaeril said, loud and clear, a closed fist pressed to his chest. “Vir væra vëna aier andin i’il nära un ael Heraya. Du vyin alura anis.”
Calen was about to translate when Vaeril took it upon himself.
“For those we have lost,” Vaeril said. “We will see them again in the light of Heraya’s arms. You can rest now.”
“May The Mother embrace you,” Calen said, tears falling slowly.
“And The Father protect you,” Therin added.
Haem placed his hand on his chest. “May The Warrior guide your hand.”
