Page 5 of Of Empires and Dust
Finally alone, Calen turned towards the tall white building that he supposed was now his ‘home’, though he didn’t think he could ever truly see it that way. His home was The Glade, as it always had been. He felt the touch of Valerys’s mind from where the dragon rested in the Eyrie and opened himself to it.
Warmth spread through him, filling his bones and soothing the aches in his muscles. But more significant than anything was the way Valerys’s soul filled the gaps in Calen’s; it made him whole and complete and left him wondering how he had ever existed before the bond.
I’ll come to you as soon as I’ve checked on Ella.
Calen could feel Valerys shifting in place at the thought of Ella. Concern and worry seeped from the dragon’s mind. Valerys’s injuries from the battle had left him unable to leave the Eyrie without assistance, and with his size, the Healers could only do so much at once. Even still, Valerys’s only thoughts had been of Ella – of his family.
Calen had barely opened the door when the warm aroma of braised lamb flooded his nostrils. Somehow, that familiar scent, that smell of home, pulled the fear and anxiety from his bones and at the same time set a deep sense of loss and longing in his heart. He closed his eyes for just a moment, picking out the rosemary, the thyme, the roasted tomatoes. It was as though, all of a sudden, he was back in The Glade, his mam standing over a cast iron pot, cooking a meal to warm their bellies.
That moment of comfort – of warmth – was followed by tears welling in his eyes.
“My sweet boy.”
Calen snapped open his eyes, hearing the sound of his mother’s voice. But it wasn’t his mam he found himself staring at, it was Elia Havel.
Rist’s mam rested her fingers against the side of Calen’s cheek and brushed away the budding tears with her thumb asdelicately as though he were made of paper. Grey still streaked her hair, exhaustion still carved dark wells under her eyes, and she still looked as though she weighed little more than a child, but the joyful, bright woman that Calen had always known was slowly returning.
“Come,” Elia said, pulling her hand away and gesturing for Calen to follow. Unlit candles sat in small alcoves all about the walls, crimson-touched moonlight drifting in through the windows while the fireplace set into the wall on the other side of the room roared. A long wooden table abutted the wall to Calen’s right, stretching halfway into the room, sturdy chairs lining its length on both sides. Elia rounded the table and stood by an enormous cast iron cookpot suspended over the fire. She grabbed a thick cloth and lifted the pot’s lid, drawing in a long breath through her nose.
“I’ve tried for years to braise lamb like your mother. Never quite succeeded. I—” Elia’s head twitched to the left, and a shiver spread through her shoulders and back; a remnant of her time beneath Berona. Tarmon said he’d seen it in many a warrior, their bodies reliving trauma long past. Some learned to suppress it, others never did. Elia drew a slow breath and shook her head. “I thought it might put a bit of warmth in you.”
“It smells just like how she made it.” Calen moved beside Elia, letting the scents of the lamb fill his nostrils. “Thank you.”
Calen stared down into the massive pot, watching the bubbles form and burst, the oils swirling in the juice. He reached for the ladle and received a firm slap on his wrist.
Elia raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, daring Calen to try a second time.
Calen laughed, but that laughter faded as he thought of Ella. “How is she?”
Elia sighed and rested her frail fingers on Calen’s pauldron. “No change. Tanner is with her now. He’s been by her side sinceyou left – him and Yana. Why don’t you go up and tell him to have some food and a rest. I’ll bring some lamb up when it’s done. It’s still missing something.”
Calen nodded, finding his words caught in his throat. He made for the stairs, but Elia called him once more.
“Oh, and Calen.”
Calen raised an eyebrow, turning back.
“Take your armour off and bathe before you go to your sister. You’re covered in blood.”
Chapter 2
A World Between
5thDay of the Blood Moon
Aravell – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Calen pausedat the door to Ella’s room, the handle cold against fingers still warm from the bath. He’d only bathed long enough to scrub the blood and dirt from his skin and hair. He could still see dried crimson beneath his nails. No amount of scrubbing would ever truly leave him clean.
The smell of lavender stopped him in his tracks as he entered. That scent always reminded him of home. Sure enough, sprigs of lavender sat in a terracotta vase upon a small table to the left of the door. Calen had no doubt Elia had left it there. Despite everything she’d been through, everything she’d suffered, all she ever seemed to do was care for others. He supposed it was a motherly thing, though he’d known some that hadn’t shared the trait.
Tanner Fjorn – who sat in a tall chair by Ella’s bed with his legs outstretched and his arms folded – lifted his head.
Calen found it hard to look at the man and not see Rhett’s face. They were so similar they could have been father and son instead of uncle and nephew; the same jet-black hair, the same broad shoulders, the same look in their eyes as though they’d known you their whole life.
Aside from Tanner, the enormous mound of fur and muscle that was Faenir lay curled into a ball at the foot of Ella’s bed, his snout resting on his paws.
The wolfpine lifted his head, a soft whine sounding in his throat as Calen approached.
