Page 314 of Of Empires and Dust

Calen turned to Aryana and Tukul, who both stared down at Castor Kai’s headless body. “When you are fed and ready, I would have you gather your forces – along with Castor’s retinue – and march to the Argonan Marshes and see to it that any remnants of the High Lord’s support know that he is no longer with us.”

“I thought you said you saw nothing in the marshes?” Aryana asked.

Calen smiled. “That’s what I said. You will find them near the southeastern edge, near Fearsall. I will send Dracurïn with you. With Cardend and Stonehelm razed in Arkalen, Fearsall will be the first line against the Uraks and any who threaten Illyanara from the south. Ensure the city is held, then push south to Drifaien as agreed. Chora Sarn and two other Rakina will travel with you. When this war is over, Aryana, you will hold Fearsall and Tukul will hold Baylomon. All I ask is that you stop slaughtering each other.”

“I will hold you to that promise,” Aryana said.

“I expect you to.”

Before mounting Valerys, Calen looked to Fenryr. “You are ready?”

The wolf god nodded. “We have remained in the shadows too long. It is time to teach this empire to fear the howl of the wolf. I am sure my brother waits for you.”

“I’m sure he does too.”

Calen mounted Valerys, casting one look over his shoulder as the Dracurïn collected Castor Kai’s body, then let his mind drift into Valerys’s as the dragon took flight.

Calen found Kaygan– or Rokka, or whatever name he chose to go by – precisely where he had said he would: in the courtyard by the empty barracks, the third on the right.

He slid from Valerys’s back before the dragon alighted, softening his landing with the Spark.

The god stood alone, leaning on a long stick with grey robes over his shoulders. His lips twisted into a toothy grin as Calen approached. “What a surprise. How can I help you, Draleid?”

Calen didn’t bother to answer. “When you said we would need you, this is what you meant, wasn’t it?”

The god gave a shrug. “I knew there would be a choice and we would be needed either way.”

Calen couldn’t help but ask the question that had lingered in his mind. “If we go north, what happens to Salme?”

“That is not how the paths work, I’m afraid,” Kaygan answered, moving the stick in circles, its butt pressed into the stone.

Anger flared in Valerys, and Calen did his best to keep it at bay as he took a step closer to the god. In the shadowed doorway of the barracks, he spotted Tamzin, her hand dropping to the head of the axe at her hip, that strange kat-like creature – Kerith – standing tall at her side.

That was good. It meant the god still didn’t know whether he was safe or not.

“Does it weigh on you at all?” Calen asked, turning his gaze away from Tamzin. “All the lives lost because you choose to play games, choose to twist and turn everything so as to steer us along your path.”

“All war is a game played with people’s lives, Calen Bryer. I’m sure High Lord Castor Kai can tell you that.” The god pulled back his upper lip and flicked his tongue against a sharp fang, giving Calen a knowing look. “As I said before, the path you are on will bring death beyond your wildest dreams. I simply wish to ensure that I and my kind are not amongst the bodies – that includes you, by the way.”

“Well,” Calen said, “seeing as you know everything before it happens. What is your answer to my question?”

The kat god’s smile widened, his pupils sharpening to thin lines. It was still strange for Calen to look upon Kaygan’s youthful features and broad shoulders and know this was the same old druid he’d met near the Burnt Lands. “Una will do as you ask,” Kaygan said. “Or rather, will ask or were going to ask…She will carry a number of your warriors to Tarhelm. Consider it a show of faith. She cannot send any to Salme.”

“Why not?”

“Because that path is not the correct path. You cannot have both things, Calen Bryer. You will not succeed at Tarhelm without us, and we cannot spare bodies for Salme. We can send twelve at most, perhaps fewer, or Una risks death. Passage through the aether comes with a price.”

“Again with the games.” Calen sighed. He had hoped for more. Fenryr had told him that some Aetherdruids, or Starchasers, could carry a much larger number through the aether, but some could move nothing more than themselves.

“I know you don’t like when I talk of the paths, but I would suggest you bring the tall blue ones.” He swirled his finger in the air. “The Jotnar, yes. There are four, if I remember correctly. And that sour-faced brother of mine, along with your sister and keeper, Tamzin and Kerith, of course myself, and Boud here.”

Kaygan gestured to the doorway where Tamzin stood, and a dark-haired woman stepped forwards, red marks winding around her neck. She tilted her head ever so slightly. Calen didn’t recognise her. She’d not been there the night before when Kaygan had come to the Eyrie.

“Who are you?” Calen asked, opening himself to the Spark just in case.

“I have heard much about you, Calen Bryer.” The woman gave a half-smile and inclined her head but didn’t answer his question.

“Boud is a Stormcaller. You will need her. Trust me. She has many Gifts.”

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