Page 283 of Of Empires and Dust

20thDay of the Blood Moon

Aravell – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

The soundof chatter and crackling fire reached Calen as soon as he opened the door and descended the stairs, the warm scents of lamb and rosemary filling his nose. The dirt was washed from his skin, his armour exchanged for a soft tunic and trousers Elia had laid out on his bed.

Faenir sat impatiently at the bottom of the stairs, his ears pricked, his bum wiggling, ever the pup.

Calen dropped to his haunches on the bottom step, scratching the side of Faenir’s neck. The wolfpine whined and leaned into Calen’s hand. He stared into Faenir’s golden eyes, the wolfpine’s tongue hanging from the left side of his mouth. Faenir had been like a different animal when Ella was asleep, as though Calen were a stranger to him, but now Faenir was backto being that same pup that had fallen asleep in Calen’s lap a hundred times over.

“As long as you keep her safe.” Calen scratched Faenir’s snout and rose.

Tanner nodded to him. The man stirred a giant pot with a wooden spoon while Elia Havel watched him like a mother wolf. The woman was in her element, that same smile Calen had grown up with adorning her lips. She half-walked, half-skipped across the kitchen, stirring pots, licking spoons, and adding seasoning at her leisure. It was good to see her smile again.

By the far wall, Lasch was filling tankards of mead from casks and passing them to Yana, who was setting them on the table beside Gaeleron and Ella. The pair were deep in conversation while helping themselves to chunks of fresh baked bread dipped in oil and vinegar.

“You look clean.”

Calen almost leapt from his skin at the sound of Elia’s chirpy voice beside him. He looked down to see her staring back up at him, her head twitching. “I… ehm… thank you?”

She pinched his cheek. “You look good. Like he did when he was younger. Except your eyes. They must come from your mother’s side.”

Elia was gone as suddenly as she had appeared, turning to slap Tanner’s hand as the man attempted to taste the stew.

Calen walked up behind Ella and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

Ella looked up, let out a soft sigh, then squeezed Calen’s arms and pressed her chin into the back of his hand. “You do look a lot better without all the blood and the dirt crusted in your hair. If you’d asked my advice, I would have said to give that rousing speechafteryou’d bathed.”

“Watch it,” Calen said with a laugh.

Lasch offered him a fresh tankard of mead. “You look like you need it, my boy.”

“Do I look that bad?”

Lasch raised both palms. “You look tired. Nothing some good food, great mead, fantastic company, and a world of sleep won’t fix. Now sit down.”

“I’ll raise a drink to that.”

Calen took a seat beside Ella and inclined his head to Gaeleron. “You’ve been busy since I’ve been gone. Thank you for watching over her,” he said, tilting his head sideways towards his sister. “And for keeping everything level here. I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“It’s been an honour, Draleid. But I wasn’t alone. Therin Eiltris rarely left my side. And Chora and the other Rakina aided in the training of every new recruit who arrived.”

“You’ll never just call me Calen, will you?”

“No, Draleid.” Gaeleron smiled, then raised the stump of his left hand to his forehead in a mock salute.

Calen took a long, thirsty draught of his mead. It wasn’t quite the same as the one Lasch served at The Gilded Dragon, but it still tasted of home.

The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Therin shuffling in, Aruni and another elf at his side.

Calen lifted himself from the bench, and as Therin made to greet him, Calen pulled the elf into an embrace. He wasn’t entirely sure why. A part of him was still angry at Therin, still mad the elf had lied to him. But Therin had been there at every turn, and perhaps it had taken everything Calen had seen in the visions at Ilnaen to realise that. Seeing how much others had lost had reminded him to hold on to what he still had.

“It’s good to see you too, Calen.” Therin pulled back and gestured to the other elf behind him. “This is Faelen. My daughter.”

“Daughter…” Calen traced the lines of Faelen’s face, her cheekbones high and sharp like Therin’s, her eyes soft. Calen realised this was not the first time he’d laid eyes on the elf. “I’ve met you before.”

“You have, Draleid.” Faelen bowed her head. “In the outer reaches of the Aravell.”

“You were one of the rangers who came to our aid.”

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