Page 315 of Of Empires and Dust

“Trust is earned.” It was difficult for Calen to argue with Kaygan’s choices. He had already promised Ella. She had spent time in Tarhelm, fought alongside Coren and Farwen. And the Jotnar were powerful Spark users in their own right and mightywarriors. But Calen was wary of any advice the kat god gave. “I will leave behind Aelmar and take Therin Eiltris in his place.” Calen looked at Tamzin. “You and your keeper will stay also. Two Fenryr Angan will go instead.”

The frown on Kaygan’s face let Calen know he had made the right choices. For better or worse, he trusted Fenryr more than he did Kaygan, and being outnumbered by the kat god’s druids in the middle of Tarhelm didn’t seem a wise move.

“It is decided then,” Calen said, returning Kaygan’s eternal grin. “With good wind, Valerys and I will reach the Firnin Mountains by daybreak tomorrow.”

“We will be there.”

Calen wanted to ask where he would see them. But he knew the question was pointless. Kaygan would answer in a riddle, as he always did. Calen would see them where he was meant to see them.

“Before I leave, I brought this for you.” Calen reached into the pouch that hung from his shoulder and produced a bundle of cloths that he placed into Kaygan’s hand.

The god stared down at the bundle, his thumb brushing over the outermost cloth. That usual sense of knowing was absent from his eyes.

“You do not see every path then.”

Kaygan pulled open the bundle to reveal the two shattered segments of the metal disc the god had given Calen under the guise of Rokka in the hut near the Burnt Lands. “You play a dangerous game, Wolfchild.”

“You began it,” Calen answered. The god had given him that disc for a reason and, whatever that reason, Calen wanted nothing to do with it. “I am simply doing what I can.”

As Calen walked towards Valerys, Kaygan called after him. “This disc was a gift. It was to save a life.”

Calen staggered in his stride but continued walking as though he had not. He refused to give Kaygan the satisfaction of turning around. What was done was done. He had no choice but to believe the god was lying once more, trying to sow seeds of doubt into Calen’s mind.

“That life is on your head now, Wolfchild. One more added to the scales.”

Valerys leaned forwards and let out a roar, that familiar pressure building within him.

We have bigger battles to fight.Calen brushed his gauntlet-clad hand along a horn that framed Valerys’s neck, the dragon bowing.Myia nithír til diar, Myia’ldryr.

My soul to yours, my fire.

“To the Eyrie.”

The silencein the Eyrie was such that Calen could hear the beating of his own heart. The other Rakina had not said a word when he and Valerys had alighted on the stone, but Imala could have burned a hole through him with her stare. He had known the cost of asking Chora to change her vote and understood it, but he had seen no other way. He needed Tivar and Avandeer next to him in the battles to come.

And so he waited in the silence, counting the passing moments in heartbeats, Valerys standing over him, Varthear and Sardakes to his left. The enormous frames of the three dragons cast long shadows, strands of morning light streaming through in yellow and red. It was as though both of the Rakina dragons knew precisely what was about to happen.

Calen glanced over to Ella, who stood with Faenir and Therin. Her eyes were molten gold, and she refused to look at him. He didn’t blame her. Farda had not only killed their mam, but he had been the cause of Rhett’s death as well. Calen hadhated asking her to allow him to live, but he’d not wanted to do it without her agreement.

In truth, Calen cared little for what Imala, or Danveer, or any of the other Rakina thought of him. His concern was for his sister.

The sound of deep wingbeats broke the silence, followed by a screeching roar. Avandeer surged upwards from the courtyard within the holding quarters. She swirled through the air before coming to land in the space between Calen and the arched passageway carved into the rock. Her eyes, yellow as the morning sun, looked to Valerys, a soft purr in her throat.

Valerys shook his head, frills raising on his neck, and mimicked the sound.

Moments later, four figures emerged from the passage, framed on both sides by a score of Dracurïn in gleaming plate.

Tivar walked at the front, garbed in the same white steel she had worn when Avandeer had fallen from the sky, but the black flame that had once adorned her breast was now gone, cut clean with the Spark.

Ella jerked forwards as Farda came into view, Faenir growling at her side. Therin rested a hand on her shoulder and whispered something Calen couldn’t hear. She seemed to calm a little, but not much.

When Tivar and the others stopped in place, Chora looked to Calen and inclined her head.

Tivar lifted her gaze as Calen moved forwards. She glanced down at her armour, then tentatively at those around her, and whispered, “What is happening?”

“Tivar Savinír, I ask you again, will you fight by my side? Will you protect your brothers and sisters, protect the people of Epheria, until time takes you or a blade ends your watch? Will you forsake forgiveness and swear your dying breath to me and to everyone here?”

Calen turned and gestured towards Therin, who handed him an elven blade set into its scabbard.

---