Page 277 of Of Empires and Dust

“How many warriors do we have within Aravell?” Calen said, turning to Gaeleron.

“Two hundred and twenty-four, armoured and trained. One hundred and forty-seven fresh recruits who have arrived since you left for Arkalen – though they are not fit and ready.”

Calen nodded. “Go to King Galdra and Queen Uthrían. Tell them that I have requested two thousand warriors from each of them – armoured and ready – to take part in welcoming these leaders properly. I’m sure they’ll jump at the opportunity. Have the leaders escorted to the southern gates, and make sure our warriors are in formation and ready. Get banners, sigils, whatever we have. It’s time we give them the welcome they’ve been waiting for.”

Chora frowned. “Calen, we can do this tomorrow. It’s all right. I didn’t mean?—”

“No. We do this now.”

An hour later,Ella stood on the stone of the courtyard that fronted the southern gates of Aravell. The white stone was smooth and clean, veins of the glowing erinian rippling through it. Several watchtowers now stood about the courtyard’s perimeter, each capped with a domed top, swooping arches open to each cardinal direction.

Faenir waited at her side, along with all fifteen of the Fenryr Angan, the other druids and their keepers, and Fenryr himself. The god was now clad in a mix of impossibly burnished steel plate and black leather. The pauldrons were worked in the shape of snarling wolf heads, their eyes set with obsidian. The other druids wore similar armour, silver steel and black leather, depictions of wolves on gorgets and breastplates.

Ella herself was garbed in the same tunic and trousers she’d worn all day. She’d lost the leather armour Coren had gifted her when she’d been captured by the Lorians, something she regretted deeply. The woman had pushed Ella to breaking, but the things she had taught her had kept her alive. She truly hoped she would see Coren again, and Farwen, and even Varik.

Beside her, Faenir let out a high-pitched whine, which was echoed by the wolves who sat beside their druids. All five of the creatures were far larger than any wolf had a right to be, but smaller than Faenir by some distance – with the exception of Sennik’s keeper, Balmyras.

Ella turned her attention away and back to the open courtyard before her. The speed at which Gaeleron had assembled the mass of armoured humans and elves was rather impressive.

Two formations stood before her, split by a direct line from the open gates.

Thousands of elves stood on each side of the path closest to the gates, various banners rippling above them.

The green banners of the Triarchy emblazoned with three white trees flew closest to the gates, hundreds of Highguard beneath them.

The star of Vaelen was next, the number of elves in black cloaks barely more than the Highguard as Queen Tessara had taken most of their numbers west. The green tree of Ardurän and the golden stag of Lunithír followed, on banners of brownand red respectively. Both King Galdra and Queen Uthrían had mustered far more than the two thousand each Calen had requested. If Ella was to hazard a guess, the monarchs had arranged five thousand at least, two and a half on each side of the path, all standing in perfect rank, armour gleaming.

Calen’s Dracurïn stood furthest from the gates – and closest to Ella – a hundred and twenty or so on each side. Above them purple banners with golden leaves fluttered in the breeze, the white dragon at their centre.

Both Galdra and Uthrían had insisted on being present and now stood to Ella’s left, at the very centre of the courtyard at the end of the path created by the two formations.

Chora and the other Rakina, along with Varthon, the matriarch of the Dvalin Angan, and the giant, Asius, all waited on the opposite side to Ella.

“Quite a sight,” Therin whispered. The elf clasped his hands behind his back, a soft smile on his lips. A younger elf stood beside him, leather armour across her chest, arms, and legs, a green cloak at her back. Her hair was dark where his was silver, but her face held many of the same features. A daughter maybe? It seemed strange to think of Therin as having a daughter.

As Ella stared at the elf, trumpets bellowed, the rhythmic thumping of drums joining. Images of the procession reached her mind through Faenir’s eyes before she turned her head.

Even more elves marched at the procession’s head, led by ranks of Highguard with Triarchy banners flapping over their heads, followed by soldiers of each kingdom aligned side by side in columns of two.

The elves certainly had a flare for the dramatic – something Calen had apparently taken to heart. All of this, simply to make an impression on the leaders of the various factions, who now walked with their retinues just behind the marching elves. Some groups were almost a hundred in number and held bannershigh, their armour donned, the colours all matching. The six black stars of Illyanara on a yellow sky and Aryana Torval’s white gryphon against red stuck out above them all, along with that of a black bull on dark green cloth. Other groups numbered no more than five or six, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

The elves fanned out to the sides as they reached the end of the long path. Halmír and a group of elves in white robes directed the leaders and their parties to Galdra and Uthrían, performing their typically long-winded and over-elaborate greetings.

Once they were done, Castor Kai stepped forwards. The man was as tall as Haem, if a little narrower in the shoulder, and despite having likely seen his sixtieth summer come and go, his black hair wasn’t marred by even a single strand of grey. But for all that, his armour didn’t have so much as a scratch, and it had been polished to within an inch of its life, the six stars of Illyanara set into the breast in gold.

“GreatInari.” Castor bowed deeply, bringing one hand across his belly. It was clear by the way he over emphasised the word ‘Inari’ that he had spent many hours stumbling over its pronunciation. ‘Ruler’, Gaeleron had explained it meant.

The man continued. “You honour us with this procession, as you have done with your hospitality from the day my soldiers and I arrived. But my army waits some hundred miles south, entrenched in the Argonan Marshes, awaiting my return. And yet I have been here for days as my enemies crowd in around me.” He glanced at Aryana Torval and the other leaders. “And now I have been told that thisDraleidhas finally arrived after leaving us waiting, and he is nowhere to be seen. I’m assuming there is an explanation for this? I travelled a long way at your request while my city was burned to ash.”

“Your presence brings honour to our hearts, High Lord Castor Kai.” Queen Uthrían took a few steps closer, her brown and green robes trailing on the stone, her guards moving with her. “It has long been our hope for our two peoples to one day fight alongside each other on the field of battle. Your hardship must have been severe across the years, waiting so close to the lion’s den for your chance to finally strike. Surely your bravery is without equal.”

Ella couldn’t help but smirk at that.

The sound of heavy wingbeats reached Ella’s ears before they did most at the gathering, the wolf’s hackles raised in her blood. And before the High Lord could answer, a murmur swept through the crowd. Hands lifted from the leaders’ retinues, pointing towards the sky.

A low clicking shriek echoed, and the silhouettes of two shapes moved through a bank of clouds above. The murmurs slowly faded to an unerring silence as the two shapes drifted from sight, anticipation holding the crowd in its grasp.

Fenryr turned his head, following something even Ella couldn’t see. “Not once since our people landed on these shores has a soul of druidic blood joined with a dragon. It is a beautiful sight.”

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