Page 311 of Of Empires and Dust

“You will watch your tongue,” Gaeleron snapped before Calen could say a word. The five other Dracurïn walked past the procession and formed up on either side of Calen.

Calen raised a hand and stepped forwards. Valerys stretched his neck out, allowing a deep growl to rumble in his chest. “My apologies, High Lord Kai. It appears that the war did not allow for our plans. How inconsiderate. We received word this morning that the Lorians lay siege to our allies in the North. I am called to give aid. Valerys and I fly within the hour.”

Castor narrowed his gaze as though trying to discern whether Calen was joking or not. “You asked us here to discuss an alliance, then left us waiting for days while my army sits in the marshes, and now you are to traipse off across the continent once again and leave us waiting?”

Calen stared at the man for a moment, studying him, watching how he held himself, how his body shifted with the unfamiliar weight of the sword at his hip, and yet he stood with awide base and the readiness of someone who knew battle. Castor could wield a sword, but it had been some time since he had worn one.

“I never said I would leave you waiting. I asked you to Aravell so that we could broker an alliance. Here we are.”

“Where are the others?” A hint of trepidation crept into Castor’s voice, and a murmur spread through his retinue of about fifty strong.

“I have already sent word to Aryana Torval and the other faction leaders. But I thought it best if we spoke face to face, given our history.”

“Our history?”

Calen gave the man a soft smile but ignored the question. “I have little time, so I will be as direct as I can. What would it take for you to pledge your sword to me, High Lord Kai? What promise must I give?”

Castor’s back straightened at that, and he lifted his chin a little higher. “You must support my claim to the crown of Illyanara.”

“You wish to be a king?”

“I already am a king in all but name.” He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, though he had to look down to find it. “All across the province know it. If you support my claim, pledge your sword to me, then Illyanara will be united within a moon.”

“Ah,” Calen said with a half-smile. “You wish me to pledge my sword toyou.”

“You are from Illyanara, are you not? I have watched over you your entire life.”

Again, Calen ignored him. “What would you have me do with Aryana and Tukul and all the others?”

Castor stepped closer, boldness in his voice. “They are traitors, Calen Bryer. I am the rightful High Lord of Illyanara. I am its natural king. And they have seized this moment, thisstrife, this darkness, to grab power for themselves. How do we trust people who do such things?”

“That does not answer my question, High Lord Kai.”

“I would have their heads. That is the cost of treachery. Give me their heads, support my claim for the crown, and you will have a united Illyanara.”

“I thought that might be your answer.” Calen turned away for a moment and looked up at Valerys. The dragon was magnificent, the blended light of the moon and the sun glistening against his scales. A low rumble resonated in Valerys’s chest as he lowered his head, eyes fixed on Castor Kai. Slowly, controlling its flow, Calen allowed the dragon’s fury to seep into him.

Calen reached for his sword and pulled it free of its scabbard as he turned back to face the High Lord and his retinue.

A number of Castor’s warriors stepped forwards and made to draw their swords, but Gaeleron and the Dracurïn moved like the wind, blades pressing into the leather that protected their chests.

“If the steel leaves your scabbard, your head leaves your shoulders,” Gaeleron said, not so much as a tremble in his outstretched sword.

“What is this?” Castor demanded. The man pulled his hand away from his sword and looked about at the Dracurïn.

“Do you recognise this sword?” Calen held his sword in the air, his right hand on the hilt, his left balancing the flat of the blade. He couldn’t help but admire it himself. The gleam of the steel, the swirls ornamenting the blade, the star crossguard, the coin pommel.

“Why would I recognise it?” Castor scoffed.

“It belonged to my father.” Calen drew a long breath, allowing his memories to flow back to the day that Vars had handed him the sword wrapped in a bundle of cloth.

“It was given to me a long time ago,”Vars had said as he’d gazed down at the sword.“And now it’s time that I pass it on to you.”

“He was a great man,” Calen continued, passing his gaze along the length of the curved blade. “Greater than even I knew. More importantly, he was a good man. A man of principles.”

“I’m afraid I did not know your father.” The initial panic faded from the High Lord’s voice. “You said he fought in the Varsund War? I’m sure he was a fine warrior, but I knew no man by the name Bryer.”

Calen lifted his stare and smiled at Castor Kai. “He didn’t go by that name.”

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