Page 309 of Of Empires and Dust

“But we carry on. We do what we must.”

Erdhardt nodded, letting out a long sigh. “We do what we must.”

“Eight captives,” Thannon said, approaching Dahlen and Erdhardt. “The rest are dead. What do you want to do with them?”

Dahlen looked down at the kneeling brigands. They were savage-looking men, laced with cuts and rubbed with dirt and blood and grime. He drew a short breath, then called out to Camwyn while gesturing at Owen and his people. “Get these people back to Salme. See that they are fed and bathed, and find a roof for them.”

“At once, Lord Captain.”

Dahlen saw Conal mounting a horse and readying to leave, his eyes fixed on the bodies. Dahlen had commanded him to stay back during the fighting, but it was good for the young lad to see things like this. Aeson had done the same with Dahlen and Erik. The world was a place full of darkness and death. It would do no good to shy away from it. “Not you, Conal. You stay.”

When the others had left, only Dahlen, Thannon, Erdhardt, Nimara, Conal, Yoring, Almer, and Kara Thain remained.

“We have no place for them in Salme,” Kara said, looking down at the brigands, who were lined up on their knees. “We cannot have demons both inside the walls and out.”

“Agreed.” Dahlen clenched his jaw. A few moments’ silence passed between them all, and Dahlen could point to the precisemoment that Conal understood what would happen next, eyes widening.

“I will do it,” Thannon said, placing his hand on the pommel of his sword.

Dahlen shook his head and stepped forwards. He looked down at the eight men. “Uraks savage these lands and Epheria is on fire. And yet you choose to prey on the weak. You choose to take the little others have instead of building something of your own. There are some men who would take your weapons and send you off into the wilds, who would stay their blades. I am not one of those men, and I cannot set you free only to see you torment and murder the souls who pass through these lands.”

“Please,” one of the brigands begged. “Please don’t…”

Dahlen’s throat tightened, and for a moment he heard the screams and saw the raging flames of Belduar and of the battles every night at Salme. He pushed it all down. “I take no pleasure in this, but I do what I must.”

Hours later,Dahlen stood on the walls of Salme. As the sun set, it painted the Antigan Ocean in an array of sparkling yellows and oranges. The wind held a bitter chill, icy air tickling his skin.

His hand shook a little as he lifted the flask to his mouth and drank deeply, clenching his jaw as the spirit burned on the way down.

It seemed strange to him to have something as beautiful as that sparkling ocean in a world filled with so much horror. As the waves swashed against the docks, Dahlen heard the screams of the brigands in his mind, heard the chop of his blade biting into flesh and bone.

He’d made the right choice. Salme didn’t have the capability to hold such men, and he could not set them free knowing they would only continue to kill and rob and slaughter anyone whopassed through the woods. In another time, he would have let them walk away. But not this time. This was a time of war, a time when every choice mattered. The people of Salme were his charges, and he needed to do whatever was in their best interests. That didn’t make it easier though.

After a while, Nimara joined him on the walls, arms folded as she watched the undulating waves coruscate like shattered glass.

“How many lives have you taken?” Dahlen asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Many,” she answered.

“I can’t even remember when I lost count. There are too many faces to remember. I’d killed fifty men by the time I had seen eighteen summers.”

Nimara brushed her finger against several of the gold rings knotted into her hair. “You’re a good man, Dahlen.”

“I don’t even know what that is anymore.” Dahlen took another swig of the burning spirit Shola Holten had concocted at The Rusty Shell and offered it to Nimara.

The dwarf took it without hesitation. “Can you sleep at night? Soft and easy?”

Dahlen shook his head.

“Then you are a good man. I would have made the same choice earlier. There was no path on which letting them live would have ended well.”

“Mmm.”

“Oh, also, I almost forgot. That fur trader – Owen – he asked me to give you this.” Dahlen turned his head to see Nimara sliding a hefty canvas pack from her shoulders. She produced a thick grey and black wolfpineskin cloak. The thing was massive.

She handed the folded cloak to him and he let it unfurl, admiring the craftsmanship and the weight.

“He says there are thirty more where it came from, a gift to whoever you think deserves it. A thank you for saving his family.”

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