Page 48 of Of Empires and Dust
“Stop with these games and get on with why you asked us here.” Voranur took a step closer but stumbled backwards as Vyrmír moved over Salara, threw his head forward, and unleashed a monstrous roar.
Both Helios and Seleraine shifted, lips curled back, teeth bared. If the three dragons fought, this entire valley would be nothing but dust and ash.
Eltoar made to speak, but before he could, roars blended with wingbeats and dragons burst through the dark storm clouds overhead. He counted seven, just as Voranur had. They swirled through the air, twisting and turning through the rain before crashing to the ground around Eltoar and the others, tearing up chunks of earth and clay as they landed.
He recognised a number from the Battle of the Three Sisters: the crimson-scaled dragon with scars along his wings where Helios had ripped him open, along with the three others with scales of purple, black, and blue.
Eltoar scanned the remaining dragons who had not fought at the Three Sisters. The first, he did not recognise. The second, larger than the first by some distance and covered by deep green scales accented with cream, was Dravír with his soulkin Irulaian. The third, with pale pink wings and dull yellow scales, was Andrax, soulkin of Lomari. Eltoar knew them well.
All seven of the surrounding dragons closed in, deep rumbles resonating from their chests, their soulkin sitting at the napes of their necks in golden plate.
Helios lunged forwards, the talons of his forelimbs digging deep into the ground on either side of Eltoar. The great dragon swung his neck side to side, unleashing a visceral roar, his rage flowing over Eltoar’s body.
The air shook and the earth trembled at the mighty dragon’s fury.
A flicker of hesitation swept through the others. None were a match for Helios in size or strength, not even close. If it came to it, with Seleraine at Helios’s side, the likelihood was that no soul would leave this place.
The only dragon to stand their ground was Vyrmír. The dragon leaned further over Salara, frills raising higher, lips pulled back, chest puffed out. At two-thirds Helios’s size, Vyrmír was the largest elven dragon. His muscles were thick and dense, his shoulders broad, his eyes fierce and unyielding.
Salara drew a breath, then moved to within arm’s reach of Eltoar, Vyrmír’s head moving with her, his eyes never leaving Helios.
“I didn’t bring you here to talk of the past. Let me make things clear for you.” She leaned closer, staring into Eltoar’s gaze. “You burned my world. You slaughtered those I held dear. You murdered my master and put a demon in his place. You are not Eltoar Daethana, though you may wear his skin. You are a pale imitation, a shadow, an empty shell. There is not a word you can say, not a thing you can do. Forgiveness is not within your reach.” Salara clenched her jaw. Even through the rain, Eltoar saw a tear fall, and what was left of his black heart broke. “I will kill you.” She shook her head, pressing her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip. “For everyone you turned your back on.For those you swore to protect. Iwillkill you, and I will bring our people into the light again.”
The rain fell harder, splashing in the puddles at Salara’s feet and rolling down her face.
“But not today, for I still hold to the honour that you cast aside. No, I will kill you in the skies on Helios’s back, with a sword in your hand. And I will look into your eyes when I do it. I will give you the death you did not give our brothers and sisters. Not because of who you are, but because of who I am.”
Eltoar stared back at Salara, at the elf he had known since she’d been but a child, the elf who had been like a daughter to him. When she had refused to fight by his side, he had bound both her and Vyrmír and left them on Driftstone so they would not fall on that first night and so that she might come to her senses. But when he had returned, they were both gone. He had heard reports of them after that but never again laid eyes on them. From the reports, they had died in the Battle of Andillar Hill.
As he looked upon her now, standing tall in her gleaming golden plate, the fierce lines of her face and fire in her voice, he held no anger at her words. Eltoar had not earned the right to anger. No, he was instead flush with pride. For it was every master’s dream that their pupil would one day be their better.
But with the pride came the shame. “Ask me what you called me here for.”
The tears in Salara’s eyes were gone, replaced by hardness. For a moment, Eltoar thought she would rethink everything she had said, but then she let out a breath and spoke. “We have heard word of a hatchling. Of a white dragon born to a human. Is it true?”
“It is.”
Salara’s eyes widened and she leaned forwards. “You’re sure?”
“I did not see the egg hatch myself, but?—”
“Then you’renotsure.”
“I fought them.” Voranur moved closer to Eltoar and Salara. “The dragon is too small to not have been hatched recently.”
Salara raised an eyebrow. With anyone else Eltoar would have thought the curl on her lips was a touch of amusement, but with Salara he knew it was fury bit back. She shifted her focus to Voranur. “So you bring our entire race to the edge of extinction, and then you to try to kill the first of us bound in four hundred years?” She narrowed her eyes. “You said you fought them, but you didn’t say you killed them. Did they kill any of you?”
Voranur’s jaw clenched.
“They did.” She gave a slight nod. “Good. Less work for us.”
“How dare you.” Voranur marched forwards, reaching for his blade. Eltoar cried out to him, but Voranur’s rage drowned out his words.
In the span of a second, everything shifted.
Seleraine roared and launched herself over Voranur at Salara. But the dragon never reached her target. In a display of speed and strength that would have been rare even in the old days, Vyrmír surged forwards and slammed into Seleraine’s chest. The earth shook as the dragon crashed to the ground in a writhing tumble and then again as Vyrmír landed atop her.
The red and gold dragon sank his talons into her chest and legs, scales cracking. As he made to wrap his jaws around Seleraine’s neck and rip out her throat, Helios spun, his tail slamming into Vyrmír with such force that the large dragon was knocked free of Seleraine and sent sprawling through the mud, the ground quaking.
