Page 73 of Of Empires and Dust
“The time for waiting is over,” Aeson said as those gathered moved closer to the table. “The Blood Moon may taint the sky, but the empire is exposed. It is a wounded animal, attacked from all sides. The imperial mages are stronger under the moon’s light, but so too are the Uraks.”
Aeson leaned over the table.
“Urak hordes sweep across Illyanara, from the western villages to Falstide and Baylomon. They have laid waste to Stonehelm and Cardend in Arkalen, currently besiege Camylin, and have ravaged the villages near the base of the Marin Mountains. But crucially, their warpath in the South pales in comparison to the sheer destruction they wreak in the North. Between them and the elves of Lynalion, the bulk of the Lorian forces are hemmed in on the northern half of the continent. Which means now is the time to finally cut the cancer of the Lorian Empire from Southern Epheria.”
“Hear, hear.” Tarmon said, folding his arms and nodding as he moved his gaze across the table with pursed lips. There was a cold fervour in the man’s eyes. The empire had destroyed his home, and Tarmon had been powerless to stop it. Aeson knew that feeling well.
“What, then, is your proposal, Rakina?” Galdra clasped his hands behind his back, looking down over the map with a raised chin, his silver-white hair resting on his shoulder, straight as needles. Aeson could tell by Galdra’s tone that the elf wasn’t going to be as cooperative as he had promised at the Eleswea un’il Valana. He’d expected no less.
“We have finally received word from Alina Ateres in Valtara. The Valtaran rebellion has pushed High Lord Loren and the imperial loyalists back to Achyron’s Keep and are holding position. Loren’s forces number over fifty thousand to Alina’s thirty, and they boast a contingent of imperial mages. Loren holds back because unless they are resupplied, the Valtarans can only keep their position until the next moon. An imperial force blockades the Hot Gates, and, from our reports, the armies garrisoned near Argona, along with the remnants of those who attacked Aravell, are moving to quell the rebellion. The Valtarans will soon be vastly outnumbered. They can win this war, but they will need our help.”
“It is unfortunate then that there is nothing that can be done,” Galdra said with an upturn of his lip. “We cannot simply empty Aravell of its warriors. Not with the Uraks pushing inwards from the Lodhar Mountains. We must deal with the threat to our home first. And even if that were not the case, we would never reach Valtara in time to be of aid. The distance is too great with the lands in between swarmed by Uraks.”
“Hmm.” Galdra had said precisely what Aeson had expected him to. Uthrían and Tessara, however, remained silent, watching. “What was it you said at the Eleswea un'il Valana, Galdra?” Aeson rolled back his shoulders and added as much pomposity to his voice as he could muster. “‘This is the day the elves of Lunithír, of Vaelen, and of Ardurän stopped hiding. This is the day we joined the fight.’ Powerful words.”
“Do not goad me, Aeson. This war will be won by making choices with our heads, not our hearts. We simply cannot mobilise enough warriors and cross the continent in that time. You know this to be true. We will arrive too late, Valtara will be ashes, and Aravell will be defenceless.”
“I do. Which is why I propose that Calen flies me to the Stormwood by dragonback.”
“What?” The look on Calen’s face matched the surprise in his voice.
“We have allies gathered there. An Arcarian by the name of Verma Tallisair, along with some four thousand seasoned warriors led by a contingent of former Arkalen Stormguard. It would take weeks to travel by horseback. But Valerys can make that journey in days.”
“And how do you then propose to get these four thousand from Arkalen to Valtara before the next moon?” Uthrían’s tone was curt, but Aeson could tell by the look in her eyes that she was intrigued.
“I have not spent these past centuries idle, as you well know. And the time has finally come for all the threads to be pulled. When Valerys hatched, I sent letters across Epheria and beyond, preparing for today. One of those letters was opened by Kayala Latrak, fourth in line to the Royal House of Latrak in Narvona. It was her vessel that carried me to Valacia and brought back Valerys’s egg.” Aeson gave Calen a soft smile, seeing the understanding in the young man’s eyes. “It was also her vessel that was set afire off Epheria’s western coast by the imperial navy. As we speak, she sails two hundred ships across the Narvonan sea, manned by some twenty thousand strong. Several of those ships are already docked near Land’s End to carry me and our forces in Arkalen along the coast to Valtara. With some luck, and Neron’s blessing, we can avoid any Lorian ships and arrive well before the next moon.”
“Your plan, Aeson, if I understand correctly, is to bring a foreign army to these shores?” Galdra raised an eyebrow, his arms still clasped behind his back. “And what will they want in return, I wonder?”
“Do you have a better plan, Your Highness? I’m all ears. Please, do tell.” Aeson knew it was a dangerous game, trading words with Galdra. The elf had a long memory and an easily slighted honour. But Aeson’s sufferance had worn out long ago. “Unless you suggest it is simply better to watch the Valtarans burn? And once their nation is in ruins, the Lorians will gather. The Varsundi will fall in line, as they always do, and Carvahon will be the empire’s next target. Our allies will crumble one by one, and we will be left alone, weakened and ripe for the slaughter.”
Aeson took Galdra’s silence as acquiescence.
“Kayala has many reasons to despise the empire. She yearns to see it crumble. I have known her family for many generations. If she wants lands to settle when this is all done, so be it. We willcarve her a piece of the North for the blood she has given. Most importantly, she has honour. I trust her.”
“You trusted Eltoar Daethana once.” Venom laced Galdra’s words, but his expression softened, his gaze dropping. “So did I.”
“Why not have Calen fly you to Valtara itself?” Tarmon Hoard asked, allowing Galdra’s comment to fade before it could be answered. He tilted his head as he surveyed the map, opening his right palm. “Send a message through the Angan. Have the ships leave Arkalen immediately. It would cut days of travel.”
“Because if Calen goes to Valtara, he will be dragged into the battles there, and he is needed elsewhere. Valtara is just one piece of an infinitely larger puzzle. We have not heard from Castor Kai since the razing of Argona. He was due here days ago. In his stead, Aryana Torval is already en route. As is Tukul Unger of the Red Suns, who commands just short of seven thousand near the Baylomon Mountains. And even more besides that pair. All the faction leaders across Illyanara will be here in a matter of days. Calen must be here when they arrive. They must see him, see that he is flesh and blood, see that Valerys is not some whispered tale but a dragon of legend. Illyanara is the largest province in the South; we need its strength behind us. And if we do not bind these factions now, they will scatter to the wind and rip each other to pieces for control of the province.”
“And then what? What do I say when Aryana Torval and these other leaders arrive? You built this rebellion, not me.” There was no anger in Calen’s voice, which was a welcome change, but Aeson sensed he wasn’t far from it. “I don’t know these people. I don’t know what they want.” He pressed his tongue against his teeth, hesitating. “I need you here.”
“I may have built this rebellion, but you set it alight.” Aeson turned to face him. “Your legend is building, and there are many who would attach themselves to it. Therin will stay here with you, as will Chora. You will be well counselled.”
Calen shook his head, his right hand clenching into a fist around his sword pommel. “Valerys and I shouldn’t be sitting around drinking wine and talking while others fight our battles.”
“This is not about your pride, Calen, nor your courage, which none who have seen it can doubt. This is about wisdom. The wisdom to know when to charge and when to hold. If Castor Kai is dead, then his banners will flock to either Torval or Unger. We need them at our back if we are to succeed, and you are our greatest hope at that.” Aeson let out a sigh. “With those forces behind you, we can push into Drifaien and give Alleron Helmund the edge he needs to replace his father. We can convince High Lord Talian Kalas to declare Carvahon under our banner. And we can push the Uraks back from the western villages. There will be many battles ahead, don’t worry.”
Calen’s jaw twitched at those last words.
“I have not heard word from my contact in Argona since the city’s destruction. But the Angan that Baldon – may his soul rest – sent to Salme has reached out. Dahlen reports that Salme’s defences are holding, but they won’t for long. The Uraks attack in greater numbers with each passing night. He requests immediate aid.”
“Then we go.” Calen didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat. “We have almost five thousand who follow my banner…” Calen stared off into the distance for a second, hesitating at his own words, then pushed on. “I’ll fly with Valerys. We’ll break the siege and drive the Uraks back into Lodhar.”
“I need you to fly me to Arkalen, and five thousand will not be enough to route the Uraks. We need to have patience. Trust Dahlen. Once you persuade Aryana and Tukul to join our cause, we can march west.”
“It is my home, Aeson.” Calen’s eyes shimmered with a purple light, wisps of pale mist drifting outwards. “I cannot leave it to die. Iwillnot.”
