Page 269 of Of Empires and Dust

Dry grass crunched beneath Erik’s feet as he moved to stand by Dann’s side, Lyrei with him. “Heraya embrace them.”

“Camylin held tens of thousands of people.” Dann stared at the smoke rising from the destroyed city, the ruins of the central keep still towering above all else. “Surely some of them made it out alive.”

“Perhaps,” Erik said. He let out a long sigh. “But they were surrounded on all sides, under siege for months…” He looked to Dann. “If the Uraks that did this are marching west…”

“Then we must march faster. We’re a day behind.” Dann rolled his neck, pressing his fingers against the puncture in his spaulder. Vaeril had knitted the wound and mended the bone, but the stiffness remained, an ache in his muscles. At least now he would have a scar to match the other shoulder.

Dann turned and swung himself into Drunir’s saddle. “All this is for nothing if Salme is already gone by the time we reach it.”

Erik climbed into his own mount’s saddle, his gaze still fixed on the smoking city. “I’d hoped Calen might have been with us by now.”

“You and I both.”

Chapter 62

Past and Present

20thDay of the Blood Moon

Aravell – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

Ella claspedher hands behind her back while Faenir sat alert at her side, ears pricked. She stood on one of the many plateaus of white stone that overlooked the city of Aravell. Now that she actually had the time to stop and look, the place was like something out of a dream, and even then she didn’t think her dreams had the ability to conjure something of such beauty. Endless valleys and streams and waterfalls, all blending seamlessly with the city that looked as though it had been grown rather than built. The dense forest of the Darkwood bore down on the city’s limits on all sides, looming like a spectre, the shadow that surrounded the light.

Staring out over the tranquillity, it was difficult to imagine that the world outside this place was at war. But it was. She had seen it with her own eyes. She had seen the battle at the ThreeSisters, seen the elves in their golden armour, seen the Uraks tear Farrenmill apart. She had seen more death since leaving The Glade than she’d ever thought possible. And now, resting in the sky, the moon was as red and ominous as it had been the night of the battle for Aravell.

The Blood Moon. The thing the bards had told wicked tales of for as long as she could remember. Perhaps the tale of this Age would be told a thousand years in the future. She wondered what they would call it.

To Ella’s left, Chora Sarn tapped on the wheel of her chair. The woman let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Ella glanced towards Chora out of the corner of her eye but said nothing. They had already exchanged more than a few sharp words over the past few days as the leaders of the varying factions throughout Illyanara had started to arrive at Aravell. Queen Uthrían and King Galdra had asked Ella to join the welcoming party in Calen’s stead. At first she had been unsure what reason they had for such a request. The obvious answer was that she was his kin, or perhaps they thought her strong or capable or even just necessary.

But upon the arrival of the first faction leader, it had become clear that they had done so in an attempt to weaken Chora’s position. As a Rakina, she clearly saw herself as Calen’s natural second in this situation, something that Ella’s presence alone refuted. Ella had no taste for being used, but if she could help Calen, she would.

“Chora.” Therin looked out over the city as he spoke, not turning to look at the woman, who continued to tap on the wheel.

“What?”

Therin frowned.

“Calen should be here.” Chora bit at her cheek, continuing to tap away at her wheel.

“We must deal with the situation as it is. He will be here when he is here,” Therin said. Ella looked past Chora to the elf. Therin Eiltris, the legendary bard. It felt as though barely a few months had passed since she’d last heard him weave a story in The Gilded Dragon. The story of The Order and The Fall, and of Fane Mortem. It was the strangest thing to find the elf here, of all places, entangled in everything that was happening. None of it made sense, and she’d not had a chance to ask him.

“He should never have left in the first place.”

“What’s done is done, Chora.”

“And what if his broken corpse lies in Ilnaen as we speak? What if his blood runs into the same sands that drank that of my brothers and sisters? What then, Therin?”

“Quiet, the both of you,” Ella snapped. Faenir turned his head, a low rumble in his throat. He pressed himself to Ella’s side.

Chora turned her chair to face Ella. “I’ve had headaches that have lasted longer than you’ve been alive. You may be Calen’s sister, but that means little here. Watch your tongue.”

Ella pressed her tongue into the back of her bottom teeth. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I cannot express how little I care for what you think. I don’t know you. But you speak of my brother like he is your property. As though his death is the end of your plans and that is all it is. So for what little I know, I like you even less. But more importantly,theyare listening. Sobequiet.”

Ella flickered her gaze towards the three elven Ephorí who also occupied the platform, along with the other three Rakina who had accompanied Chora. Ella had learned quite quickly that she would do well to mind her words in Aravell. And after meeting with Queen Uthrían and King Galdra, it was clear that beneath all the fine words and pleasantries, they would do anything to get what they wanted.

Chora followed Ella’s stare, then gave a soft nod. The muscles in her jaw twitched, and she looked out over the edge of the plateau for a moment. “I do not think of him as my property,” Chora whispered so that only Ella could hear. “I care for him, believe it or not. I don’t want to see him added to the bodies at Ilnaen. But he also has a responsibility that comes with the power he possesses.”

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