Page 282 of Of Empires and Dust

“In all the centuries I’ve seen, I’ve watched thirty-seven mages kill themselves by drawing too heavily from the Spark when attempting to control power like you are. Twenty-four of those mages did so while channelling in preparation for the trial of an Arcarian.”

“The others?”

Garramon glanced at the flames. “The others did so as a last resort, attempting to turn the tides of battles already lost. The years following the fall of The Order were the darkest years since the Blodvar.” He continued to stare into the fire for a while longer before looking back at Rist. “When the Spark kills, it boils your blood from the inside. Your skin cooks, blistering and crackling, before sloughing off your bones. Some mages die within minutes, but I’ve seen others live for hours… I cannot imagine a worse death.”

Every hair on Rist’s body pricked at the horror of a death like that.

“You need to understand the depth of the risk you take when you push yourself to the limits you are currently trying to reach.”

Rist nodded slowly.

“That said, I’m proud of you. The kind of power you drew… very few people can hold power like that.” He paused a moment and gave Rist a soft, acknowledging smile. “It’s about time we head back. Supper will be ready, and Taya will want to go through the plan.”

They left the fire burn and climbed from the crater. Some three hundred feet down the side of the rocky slope of thecrater’s southern edge, crimson banners bearing the black lion flapped in the winter breeze, tent canopies spreading in all directions. And there, looming over everything, were the broad peaks of the Firnin Mountains. By the reports, the rebels had forged their stronghold within.

That word - ‘rebels’ – still felt strange in his mind. Rist held no desire to kill a single man or woman within that mountain. Those he’d killed in Berona still haunted his sleep.

“What will you do if the next order is to march south?”a voice whispered in his mind.“What will you do then?”

There was nothing in the world that would make Rist draw a blade against his home. Nothing.

“But what will you do?”the voice whispered.

Coren Valmar stoodat the edge of the cliff, the light of the bleeding moon tainting everything it touched. She drew a long breath in through her nose as she looked down at the hundreds of lanterns below. She had always known the Lorians would come eventually. But she had not expected them so soon, not while the Uraks and the elves threatened their cities.

“The attack in Berona.” Farwen clasped her hands behind her back, staring out into the night. “They believe it was us.”

“Mmh.” Ever since they’d heard of the attack on Berona, Coren and the others had done everything they could to discover who had been behind it. But none of their networks had heard a thing. Whoever had carried it out had gone to pains to place the blame at their feet. And that alone was a reason to find out who it had been.

But first, they had an army to deal with.

“Forty thousand,” Farwen said. “The scouts indicate that Primarch Andelar Touran himself has travelled with the army, along with the Lorian Supreme Commander and the Blackwatch.”

Those were not good odds on any night.

Farwen turned to Coren and stared into her eyes. The elf didn’t need to speak aloud. Coren knew the question she asked with the stare. “Have we received reports of the Dragonguard?”

Farwen shook her head. “Last we’ve heard is that Lyina and Karakes laid waste to an Urak force near Harken’s Ride. Voranur and Seleraine have watched over Elkenrim since the Elves of Lynalion took Catagan. Helios was last spotted flying north, but that was two days ago. With the delays in reports, it’s difficult to pin a location on him.”

“Have the Angan reach out to Aeson in Aravell. Tell him that we need the Draleid, and that we need him now. We have a day or so. Even with their advantage, Taya Tambrel will take her time and scout the mountains. She is not the type to rush where no rush is needed. If we can break this Lorian army here, we will have a clear path to the Burnt Lands and to Aravell. But we can’t do it alone.”

“I will see it done.” The elf made to leave but hesitated for just a moment. Their gazes met, but nothing further was said, and at last Farwen went in search of the Angan.

Alone, Coren let out a long sigh. Aeson had asked her and Farwen to travel to Aravell almost two weeks past. They had intended to do so, but there had been too much chaos with the elves and the Uraks running rampant. Coren and Farwen were the heart of the rebellion in the North. They couldn’t simply leave every soul in Tarhelm and beyond to fend for themselves. That was not the way of the Draleid.

“Never forget, to be a Draleid is not simply a privilege.You must always rise, so that others rise with you. You must be the beacon they look to.”

Her master’s last words had been the creed Coren had lived by for centuries. These people had given everything to the rebellion, given their homes, their lives, their futures. They had placed their trust in Coren, and she could not abandon them when they needed her most, when they looked to her for guidance. Especially not for the sentencing of traitors. Their resolution was not worth the lives of men and women who had given everything.

Coren stared up at the crimson moon. The same moon that had marred the sky the night her world had died. The last time she had ever laid eyes on her old master.

A rumble sounded in the back of her mind.

Soon. I promise.

Chapter 67

A Moment of Peace

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