Page 57 of Of Empires and Dust
“It’s a shame none are alive to make the same oath.” He squeezed a little tighter. “Convenient, that.”
“I swear on The Saviour himself.”
“Oh, your god isn’t listening.” Kallinvar pressed his tongue against his palette, his rage sour in his mouth. The faces of those on the cots were just as young as the girl who had played host to the Vitharnmír, just as vulnerable. “The duty of the strong is to protect the weak, mage. These are just children.Children. You should have protected them, but instead you preyed on them, mutilated them… Is this the god you worship? The god that feeds on the young?”
“They…” The man trembled, his voice barely a whisper. “They were volunteers. They?—”
“Look at them!” Kallinvar roared, turning to hold the mage over one of the cots, twisting his neck so he couldn’t look away. “They are children!”
Anger was an emotion Kallinvar knew intimately but one he had long since believed under his control. He now accepted that belief to be false.
Kallinvar threw the man to the ground, looming over him. The mage leaned back on his elbows, shaking, staring back up at Kallinvar with terror in his eyes.
Never allowing his gaze to leave the mage’s, Kallinvar’s helm receded into the collar of his Sentinel armour. “Stay here. I’ll deal with you after.”
“I just—Argh!” The mage unleashed a high-pitched shriek as Kallinvar stomped on his shin, snapping the bone clean, bloodsplattering the stone. The scream died out after a few seconds, the mage losing hold of his consciousness.
Kallinvar stepped over the man, following the weak heartbeat that thumped in his head.
Dum… dum.
He found a small passage at the far end of the room that led to a rock-enclosed opening within the forest’s bounds.
It was here he discovered the source of the smell. An enormous pit had been dug at the centre of the opening, and within it were bodies, black and burnt. Smoke still drifted from the charred corpses, the vile stench of burning flesh and clothes clutching the air.
Ruon and Arden stepped through the passage and out into the clearing. Silence held them, but Kallinvar could feel the all-consuming sorrow that radiated from their Sigils.
Dum… dum.
A grunt sounded to Kallinvar’s left, followed by deep, rasping breaths.
Armoured in ruby plate, a man was slumped against a post, a spear driven through his abdomen, just below the ribs. The weapon appeared to be the only thing holding him upright, pinning him to the wood at his back. The front of his armour was slick with blood, a pool seeping into the grass at his feet.
The potential Sigil Bearer was an Inquisition Praetorian.
Kallinvar stepped closer and lifted the man’s chin, staring into his eyes.
The Praetorian grunted again, returning Kallinvar’s gaze. “Make it quick.” He coughed and spluttered, choking on his own blood. “At least quicker than this.”
Kallinvar rested a hand on the man’s drooped shoulder, gripping tight. “This will hurt.”
He yanked the spear free with an almighty pull, and the Praetorian collapsed forwards into Kallinvar’s arms, blood pumping from the now open wound.
“You will be dead within minutes. Or we can offer you a second chance in this life. A chance to protect the things you love. But it comes at a cost.”
The man stared back at him, straining hard to maintain his consciousness. “I’m pretty sure… I’m past saving.”
“The duty of the strong is to protect the weak,” Kallinvar said, ignoring him. “Do you agree?”
“Can I not just die in peace?” He choked, spots of blood painting his bottom lip, then swallowed and answered the question. “Always.”
Kallinvar glanced at the pit of burning bodies, his anger getting the better of him. “Is this what you call protecting the weak?”
“Why do you think—” The Praetorian coughed up more blood, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He drew a breath, grimacing. “Why do you think you found me on the pointy end of a spear?”
“Hmm. No decision is straightforward. Black and white do not exist. We live in a world of ever-shifting grey. Do you agree?”
“More than you know.” The Praetorian’s breathing grew shallow, but no sign of panic or fear hid in his eyes. He was not afraid of death.
