Page 74 of Of Empires and Dust
“And it ismyson.” Aeson stared back at Calen. He had known this would be the most difficult part. He looked to Asius, who stood a few feet from the table with his hands clasped behind his back, observing quietly. The Jotnar stood head and shoulders above all others bar Thacia, his bluish skin tinted a shade of purple by the Blood Moon’s light spraying in from the arched windows. “Asius?”
The Jotnar raised an eyebrow.
“What word from Larion? Are your people gathered? Could they give aid?”
Asius returned Aeson’s stare for a moment, then unclasped his hands and moved closer to the table, Dann and Tarmon stepping aside to give him space. “For the first time in centuries, the Jotnar are one. Those Larion has gathered march for Aravell as we speak. The last message I received, they had left their encampment where the Aonan Wood meets the mountains. When they pass the Arythn Plain, Larion will send another hawk. I can have a letter left by the waypoint in the Marin Mountains, but until then, I will not be able to contact them.”
Aeson nodded sombrely.
“Do you see? Patience is our friend, Aeson.” The smug upturn of Galdra’s bottom lip caused Aeson to physically bite his own tongue. “We must wait and be careful. In war, losses are inevitable. Haste born from fear or desire will lead to nothing but greater death.”
Aeson clenched his jaw, and he thought he could hear an echo of Lyara’s roar in the back of his mind, setting his hairs on end.
If I left every decision to you – you self-righteous piece of shit – we would sit and wait until every shred of this continent bar the Aravell was aflame before we left this place.They were the words Aeson wanted to say. But instead, he let out a breath and gave the elf a half-smile. “Hesitation born from fear ordesire walks the same path, Your Majesty. But at least with haste we make our own choices instead of having choices made for us.”
“Take another five thousand from Vaelen and march on the western villages.” Queen Tessara stood straight, one hand resting over the other at her waist, her face expressionless. “I can have them outfitted and ready by first breath of morning.”
Both Uthrían and Galdra stared at the new queen but said nothing.
Tessara raised an eyebrow at the silence that followed. She looked to Calen. “I do not know you, Draleid. And I dare say you do not know me. So let us learn each other quickly and have our words match our secret hearts. You protected my home, and you were willing to give your life for my people. And so I will do the same in return, with hope that this is but the beginning of such exchanges. Vaelen commands some nine thousand warriors. I will leave four here in defence of Aravell, and I will personally march with the other five. Add your forces to mine and place them under the command of your most trusted. We will defend your home while you do what must be done. On my honour.”
Slowly, the purple light ebbed from Calen’s eyes. He nodded slowly. “Du haryn myia vrai, Inarí. La’værakanra glinmahíl denír.”
Thank you, Queen. I will not forget this.
Tessara inclined her head. “Vrail mír nåir denír er beskír.”
Thank me when this is all over.
“I will add another two thousand.” Queen Uthrían drew a sharp breath, her gaze locking with Calen’s. “I cannot spare any more, not with Aravell still under threat. We cannot put out fires in the homes of others while leaving our own to burn. But we can help.”
Calen dipped his head in thanks.
Aeson held back the smirk that attempted to find its way to his lips as he looked at Galdra.
The king glared at both Uthrían and Tessara. They had forced his hand. “I, too, can offer two thousand, but no more.”
“It is settled then,” Aeson said, leaning on the table, his palms laid flat. “Calen will fly me to the Stormwood, where I will sail to aid the Valtaran rebellion. Tessara will march to Salme with nine thousand Triarchy warriors and five thousand sworn to the rebellion while Calen and Valerys will return here and secure the fealty of Aryana Torval, Tukul Unger, and as many of the smaller factions as possible.” He looked to Calen. “Once that has been secured, you can fly to join the army before they reach Salme. And we can commit forces to Drifaien and Arkalen. Carvahon will fall under our banners with little encouragement. Then we can turn our eyes to Varsund. With the gold from Aonar and the imperial garrison already stationed there, Varsund will require the most blood.”
“What of the North?” Asius asked.
Aeson knew precisely what Asius’s true question was: what of Coren Valmar? What of the woman apprenticed by Kollna, daughter of Luan – his mother?
“Our forces in the North are hemmed in on all sides. For the moment, many of them remain relatively safe in the outpost in the Firnin Mountains, but we don’t know how long that will last. I’ve asked Coren and Farwen to travel here on Draleid business. To save time, they will cross the Svidar’Cia. It may take some time as the imperial forces are at heightened alert, but the Fenryr Angan are aiding in the coordination.”
“Surely not.” Uthrían narrowed her gaze. “That is suicide, Aeson. Calen and the others crossed, but to my knowledge they are the first in four hundred years. Their crossing does not increase the likelihood of success for others.”
“We’d heard rumours that after the Blood Moon rose, the madness in the Svidar’Cia faded. Reports of refugees forced into the wasteland by the Uraks. Most died from hunger, thirst…blood loss. But reports from our ears in Kingspass are that some made it through, their minds untouched by the madness.” Aeson gestured towards Calen’s brother, Arden, who stood at the back with his arms folded. “The Knights of Achyron confirmed this to be true.”
Arden stepped forwards, unfazed by the many eyes upon him. The mountain of a man inclined his head towards Aeson. “It is true. On the night the Blood Moon rose, Fane Mortem opened a rift in the veil. One of my brothers sacrificed himself to close it. Ever since, we have not felt the Taint in the Burnt Lands as we previously had. Efialtír’s hand no longer holds the waste in its grasp.”
“You can… feel it?” Galdra asked.
“Much like you can feel the moisture in the air on a humid day or the smoke at the back of your throat when something burns. It is like a sickly oil that stains everything it touches. To know it is part of the burden we carry, part of Achyron’s gift.”
“It does not sound like a gift.” A genuine twinge of sadness touched Galdra’s face, only for a fleeting moment. “Perhaps it is a mercy Achyron has never chosen one from our people.”
Arden glanced at Calen, then returned his gaze to Galdra. “I was given a second chance to protect the people I love. There is no burden I would not bear for such a gift.”
