Page 21 of Of Empires and Dust

The gathered crowd parted for the three elders: a broad-chested man without a hair on his head; a short, lithe woman with dark hair; and a woman with bronzed skin, a shaved head, muscular arms, and two missing fingers. Each of them had a number of brass rings looped through their nose and ears.

The woman with the two missing fingers pulled back her chair languidly and set herself down, barely raising her eyes to acknowledge the others.

Lanan Halfhand. She was a strange one indeed. On appearances alone Dahlen would have thought her aloof and disinterested, but his experience had been quite the opposite. It was, after all, by her allowance that the refugees from Belduar and the other towns and villages around Ölm Forest had been allowed safe haven in Salme.

After a few moments, Lanan raised her hand in the air, and the chatter stopped. She lifted her gaze and cast it about those gathered.

“Another night passes, and still we draw breath.” As though emphasising her point, Lanan pulled a long breath in through her nostrils, held it, then released slowly. “Long have the people of the western villages supported one another. Our children come of age together in The Proving. Our people survive together in the harsh winters. Our history is alive in the stories we share. But now, we welcome more into the fold – the peoplefrom Belduar, the dwarves of Lodhar…” She sucked in her cheeks, then clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth as her stare settled on the Lorian mages and the cavalry commander who stood to the right of the table. “… and the warriors of Loria.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd, along with a number of spitting noises. Dahlen didn’t envy the woman. In taking in the Lorians, she had undoubtedly made enemies. But that decision had saved every soul within Salme’s walls twice over.

“We don’t need a history lesson, Lanan,” said a man, tall and thin, sitting four seats to Lanan’s left. He was the representative of Pirn, if Dahlen remembered correctly, and he seemed to have a problem with just about everything. “We need?—”

“Hold your tongue, Benem,” snapped Kara Thain, Erith’s representative. In the short time Dahlen had known the woman, he’d found nothing but respect for her. Each of the elders participated in Salme’s defence, though some less enthusiastically than others. But he’d seen Kara on the walls more than once, fighting from the front. “We don’t have time for your groans tonight. Let Lanan speak.”

Benem looked as though he was ready to leap from his seat, his cheeks flushing, fingers grasping the edge of the table. But his gaze flashed across the table and he pulled himself back in his chair. Dahlen followed the man’s stare to see Erdhardt glaring at Benem, his hand resting on the pommel of his hammer that stood with its head on the ground.

“We have always been close,” Lanan continued, her gaze lingering on Benem. “But the times are changing, and we must become more – we must become one. We cannot weather this storm divided.”

“What are you saying?” The man who spoke was Yarik Tumber of Ölm.

“She’s saying that now that we’re at her mercy and living within her walls, with the Uraks breathing down our necks, shewants to seize power.” Benem pushed his chair back and stood, leaning forward and resting his palms on the table, his eyes fixed on Lanan. “You think it will be that easy?”

The woman returned Benem’s stare, one eyebrow raised, a look on her face as though she were staring at a child who had tested a mother’s patience. After an awkward silence, within which the entire hall stared at both Benem and Lanan, the woman bit her lip, then spoke. “I have no desire to seize power. I wish only to unite us so that we may defend this place as one. Salme is your home now, too. I’m sure you’ve seen it from where you stand in the thick of the fighting, but as it stands, we are a hair’s breadth from losing everything.”

Slowly and purposefully, Lanan pushed her chair back and rose. She met Benem’s gaze, then looked about at all those gathered. She turned to Ylinda and then Erdhardt. “When the people of Talin and The Glade came to our gates, their homes burned, their loved ones in Heraya’s embrace, what did we do?”

“Welcomed us with open arms.” A half-smile cracked Ylinda’s face, and she inclined her head towards Lanan. “You fed us, watered us, and helped us build homes.”

“And we’re all the stronger for it, are we not?”

“We are.”

“Had Erdhardt Fellhammer not stood on our ramparts these past months, Salme would be nothing more than rubble and bones. I have lost count of the men and women whose broken bones have been set and wounds stitched by young Anya Gritten. No healer I’ve ever seen roams the battlefield while it rages and drags the wounded from the fray. Once more I say, we are stronger together. What of Erith, Kara?”

“Aye. We will forever be grateful for the shelter you gave.”

“And in return, what did we ask?”

Kara shrugged, sitting back in her chair. “That we fight for this place as we would Erith. That we bleed for it – and we have.”

Lanan nodded her thanks. “And Milltown, Ölm, Pirn?”

“You’ve made your point,” Benem snapped. The man pulled his hands from the table and stepped back, walking around the perimeter towards Lanan. “You’ve always been good with words, Lanan. You twist them and shape them, but they still mean the same thing.” The man pointed his finger at the Salme elder. “You see an opportunity, and you’re taking it.” He jabbed her in the shoulder with his finger. “I for one won’t be letting you spin your webs like the spider you are. Who will lead this new city, this new people? You don’t have me fooled…”

Benem trailed off, his finger still prodding into Lanan’s shoulder, his stare fixed on Erdhardt, who had left his hammer standing on its head and now walked towards the man. “What? You can’t intimidate me, Erdhardt.”

“Sit down, and let Lanan speak. Some of us need to rest so we can fight again tomorrow. We can’t all stand in the back, using the mud to prop up our spear.”

Benem moved towards Erdhardt. “I’ve known her for over forty years. I don’t need to hear what she has to say because venom is best left in the fangs.”

“Take a step closer and I’ll put you down. I’m in no mood.”

Benem rolled his eyes, still moving towards Erdhardt. “We’ve all lost people, Erdhardt. Your wallowing is not unique. Aela was?—”

Erdhardt lashed out with an open hand, striking Benem in the throat. The man staggered backwards, grasping his neck as a number of the representatives jumped to their feet, gasps of shock spreading through those gathered.

“Don’t say her name.” Erdhardt’s voice was cold and level. He was only an inch or so taller than Benem, but his shoulders were twice as broad. “Sit back down, and let the adults speak. If you’d been at the breach tonight, you wouldn’t have the energy to talk all this shit.”

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