Page 145 of Of Empires and Dust

Dann drew his breaths in slow, trying to stop the panic from slithering from his mind into his veins. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Nice and slow.

“That dragonfire killed as much of their own as it did ours.” Tarmon pressed his boot into an empty breastplate, brushing off the soot to reveal the sigil of a roaring black lion.

Dann nodded sombrely, patting Drunir on the side as they continued. “How long will it take us to reach Salme?”

“Depends how hard we march. A few weeks, maybe a bit less if we march every hour the gods give.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. It took us a lot longer to get from The Glade, but we didn’t exactly take the quick route.”

Dann looked over his shoulder. Hundreds of banners rippled in the wind, many bearing Calen’s white dragon sigil, others in the varying colours of the elven kingdoms. Valdrin had been hard at work since the battle for the city, commanding an army of smiths and craftsmen to churn out new armour, and banners, and tabards, and all manner of things that could bear Calen’s sigil. The strange elf had taken it upon himself to ensure that any soul who set eyes on the army saw that white dragon.

As he watched the banners flap in the wind, Dann still couldn’t quite understand how he of all people had ended up in this position. Two years ago, he’d been drinking himself silly and throwing axes in The Two Barges, and now… well, now he didn’t really know what he was doing at all. He wore the suit of polished armour and mail that Valdrin had crafted for him. He had a glistening white cloak knotted at his shoulders – which was a nightmare to keep clean – and a white wood bow strappedto his back. That morning, was even been assigned his own attendant – Nala – who looked after his gear and followed him around like a puppy. He should have felt like a hero of legend, but instead he was more like a fish dragged from water and told to fly.

He was not a leader. He never had been and never would be. In fact, he’d go as far as to say that anyone with half a brain would do well to do the exact opposite of everything Dann said.

Drunir dipped his head and pushed his muzzle into Dann’s temple.

“Oi! Stop that.”

The horse snorted again, this time flapping his lips and spraying spittle over Dann’s face.

“I’ll turn you into a nice coat if you keep that up.”

Drunir let out a puff of air, peeling back his lips to show long teeth and thick gums.

“I was joking, lighten up.” Dann turned his head to see Tarmon staring at him with a bemused look on his face. “What?”

“You’re talking to a horse.”

“And?”

“I suppose you’ve done stranger things.”

“This doesn’t even come close. Did I ever tell you about the time I saw a horse with a horn growing from its head? And not like a little lump, but a proper horn, right from the crown. Calen and Rist never believed me, but I swear to Varyn that thing was real.”

“How drunk were you?”

“I’d had enough meads to feel warm but not so much I couldn’t piss standing up. I—ah, shit!” Dann leapt to the side at the sensation of something jabbing into his leg. He looked down to see a stout bird the size of a pup. It had a rotund torso, with a stumpy neck that bobbed like a chicken’s when it walked. Its beak was long and sharp, its feathers dark brown and black.

The bird scuttled away as Dann tried to kick it, rounding a fallen tree then bounding atop the trunk with surprising grace for something so short and fat. It stood there and stared at him, its chest puffed out, watching.

“What in the fuck is that thing?”

“It’s a weka,” Vaeril said, calling out from the other side of Drunir. The elf joined Dann and Tarmon, Lyrei beside him. “They’re native to the Aravell woodland, though they tend to stay closer to the outskirts. Be careful.”

Dann eyed the bird with suspicion. “Why? How dangerous is it?”

“It’s harmless.”

“Then why be careful?”

“Because it’s smarter than you are and will steal anything you don’t chain up.”

“Smarter than us?”

“No,” Vaeril corrected, a grin spreading across his face. “Just you.”

Dann was about to argue until Lyrei burst out laughing. Instead, he just shoved Vaeril to the side, letting the elf have his victory. Lyrei deserved to laugh more. He shook his head at Vaeril. “I liked you more when you had no sense of humour.”

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