Page 459 of Of Empires and Dust
All forty Vitharnmír stood about him, the power of Essence crackling like lightning in the air.
“I call to you, Efialtír, bringer of life. Take this vessel as your own, see this light, and let it guide you through the darkness.”
As Fane spoke, the Vitharnmír added their strength to his, and the runes carved into the stone around them burst to life, crimson light gleaming.
Screams rippedHaem from his thoughts as he sat on the plateau with Calen’s body cradled in his arms, the rain hammering down. At first, it was just one, but one turned to many in a heartbeat.
He lowered Calen to the stone, and before he had taken more than three steps, Valerys had curled around Calen’s body and covered him with a massive white wing. The dragon cared littlefor anything outside of Calen. Not even the shrieks and howls pulled him from his misery.
Haem summoned his Sentinel armour and Soulblade, the green light-wrought sword taking shape in his fist as the liquid metal flowed over his fingers. He bounded down the steps and through the gate at the eastern wall into the city.
Men and women sprinted in all directions, fleeing for their homes as three warriors clad in shimmering steel plate carved through everything that moved with glowing red Soulblades.
Even as Haem watched in horror, a red orb burst into life behind them, spreading into a disc of rippling black liquid. The Rift.
More of the Chosen charged through. Ten by Haem’s count.
A second Rift opened above them, its edges a shimmering green light, and Grandmaster Kallinvar dropped from the sky, Ruon and the rest of The Second with him.
“Go!” Haem roared at three men who came charging from their homes with spears in their fists.
“We can help!” one of them called back.
“Protect your families,” Haem said, recalling his helm so they might see his face. “Let Achyron protect you.”
Haem replaced his helm and charged into the fray.
Kallinvar rammedhis shoulder into a Chosen’s breastplate, stepped back, and sliced his Soulblade through the creature’s knee. The Chosen howled and collapsed backwards, only for Ruon and Varlin to fall atop it and drive their blades into its chest and head, the runes in its armour igniting with a burning fury.
He should have known they had access to the Rift. Or at least some form of it. But they should never have been able to open it in Ardholm or the temple. The entire city was warded against such things, and that ward had not been violated in the thousands of years the temple had stood.
A crimson Soulblade swept past Kallinvar’s face. He leaned back, then brought his own blade up to block a strike from a second Chosen in a burst of green and red light.
He drew his fist back and rammed it into the Chosen’s ribs, feeling the plate crack beneath the weight of the blow.
Kallinvar pushed forwards, Arden sweeping in beside him like a man possessed. The young knight moved with the grace of a bird and struck with the strength of an ox, his Sigil radiating pure fury and loss. Arden swept past the Chosen’s guard, released his Soulblade, and swung around the creature’s waist. He pressed his fist against the Chosen’s hip, and his Soulblade burst to life once more, ripping through the creature’s body from side to side. Arden twisted and hauled the blade free of flesh and steel through the Chosen’s gut, blood spilling onto stone, runes blazing.
With each passing moment, Kallinvar screamed in his mind to Achyron but heard nothing in return. Surely now, of all moments, he had not abandoned them?
A roar sounded behind Kallinvar, and he twisted to see a Chosen slicing through four citizens with a single swipe of his Soulblade, tearing their souls in half. Scores more men, women, and children scattered through the streets, running for their lives as more knights flooded from the temple.
Gandrid and Emalia, along with their chapters, charged down the great steps, crashing into four Chosen that raced towards the temple.
Kallinvar’s Sigil ignited, and he opened the Rift beside himself, letting Olyria and The Third through.
“Airdaine and Arlena are still within the temple. Fades and Chosen both roam the halls.” Olyria stared into Kallinvar’s eyes. “Is it true? I felt it Kallinvar. We all did.”
“They have the Heart.” Kallinvar grasped Olyria’s arm and pulled her close. “The duty of the strong is to protect the weak. That duty does not die, Olyria. Do you understand me? It does not die. No matter what we face, our duty never ends.”
“I am always with you, Kallinvar. Always. My Grandmaster, my friend.”
“And I you. Clear them from the city. Keep the people safe. That is all that matters.”
Olyria nodded, then turned and joined the battle, Soulblade blazing to life in her hands.
“Ruon! Knights of The Second, with me!” Kallinvar opened the Rift and leapt through, the icy embrace washing over him, the darkness shrouding his vision, until he emerged on the other side into the chaos of the Heart Chamber.
His Sigil pulsed as knights fell: Sisters Jurea and Larwain of The First, Brother Yurin of The Ninth, Brother Kandir of The Eight. All in quick succession. The knights of The Second flowed into the chamber at Kallinvar’s back, crashing into the Fades and Chosen.
