Page 319 of Of Empires and Dust

“Look at me, Dayne of House Ateres, dagger in my side.” Loren pulled Dayne’s head so they were looking eye to eye. “I am going to drag you behind my horse like the animal that you are, and every soul beneath my banners and those of the emperor will know that you are a man. You are not a ghost, or a demon, or some god-sent harbinger of death. You are a man.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“Men bleed.” Loren’s right hand left Dayne’s jaw, and moments later a knife blade was pressed to Dayne’s throat, stinging as blood trickled. “And they will all see you bleed.” He held the blade there. “I know you, Dayne. I know you because I knew your father and I knew your mother. I know the pain I inflict upon you will never be enough. And so if you try any more theatrics like you did here, I will chop your brother’s hands into small pieces and feed them to you when you starve. Do you understand?” Loren lifted Dayne’s chin. “Now be a good dog.”

Loren turned, grabbed the rope connected to Dayne’s shackles, and once more mounted his horse. He gestured to carry on, leaving the guard Dayne had choked unconscious in the dirt.

Before long, the fortress city of Achyron’s Keep came into view, its walls massive, sharp, and grey. Thick cylindrical towers rose at every bend, banners of pale blue emblazoned with the Oranak squid beneath those of a deep crimson bearing the black lion of Loria. The Lorian Empire had forbidden the flying of House banners after the first Valtaran Rebellion, but it appeared they had made an exception for Loren.

Dayne had seen the city with its two enormous trenches and double walls many times in his youth. But at that moment, as he trudged behind Loren’s horse, his hands bound, his attention was not on the city or the walls but on the thousands upon thousands gathered at the gates.

Each and every one was fully armoured as though marching to battle, the sun and moon glinting off polished helmets and shields. The coloured skirts of every Major House were present – even a few in the burnt orange of House Ateres. But the pale blue of House Koraklon and the yellow of House Thebal dominated the open plain next to the red and black of the Lorians. It was almost humorous to see that the two Houses had chosen this as their common ground upon which to stand. Centuries of infighting and war ceased only in opposition to a free Valtara.

“Make sure to smile,” Loren called back, his horse picking up its pace and dragging Dayne along with it.

Dayne grunted, trying to keep his balance. His feet stung with every step, cuts opening along his soles, rocks and dirt finding every crevice.

As they drew closer, the sound of chatter and shifting feet that filled the air slowly died to a whisper. The clip of horse hooves accompanied the wind and low murmurs as Loren andhis riders started down the long path towards the gates that split the massive crowd.

“All behold! Dayne of House Ateres, son of the traitors Arkin and Ilya Ateres. Here is your Ghost of Ankar, your Demon of the Pass! His blood runs red as yours! He bleeds like any man, and bleed he will!”

As Loren roared, his voice boomed, echoing all around in the most unnatural of ways. Dayne knew the Lorian mages carried the High Lord’s words on threads of Air, but with the ward around him he could feel nothing.

Loren gave the rope a vicious yank, and Dayne stumbled forwards, his elbows crashing into the dirt as he brought his hands in front of him to protect his face.

The High Lord urged his mount on. Dayne tried to pull himself to his feet, but the rope grew taut and dragged him forwards through the dirt. He clenched his jaw even harder, the ground tearing at the exposed skin.

“This man has killed your brothers and sisters, your mothers and fathers, your children. His is the last face they saw. He has turned Valtara into a land of the dead and the dying. And if we allow him and his bitch sister to have their way, our home will be nothing but ash and bones.”

Dayne pressed his elbows into the dirt, grunting as the ground peeled away the skin. He leveraged himself, pulling his legs up and planting his feet on the ground. He staggered forwards, trying to prevent the rope from dragging him back down. Just as he had gained his footing, something smashed into the side of his head and he hit the dirt once more, the horse dragging him forwards. Blood dripped into his eyes, and his head spun. Something else struck him in the side, then in the leg and the back: stones hurled by the watching crowd.

He lifted his gaze to see that, while some roared and howled, many of those in Valtaran garb stood straight, their chins high,their fists gripping valynas, their stares focused on him. Some took part, but mostly it was the Lorians who threw the stones.

A man in a red and black surcoat made to lunge forwards and was held back by another in the pale blue skirts of House Koraklon.

“An army of traitors marches on Achyron’s Keep,” Loren bellowed. “They will be here by the morning light. They believe they can scale the walls and put us to the sword. What say you?”

Spears clattered against shields amidst a thunderous cacophony of roars and shouts.

“This is their champion dragging in the dirt at my horse’s back. This is the best of them. And he is ours!”

More shouts and clattering steel answered.

“When the pretender queen arrives at our walls, she will yield, or House Ateres will be put to the sword! Never again will they bring fire and ruin to our lands. By blade and by blood!”

“By blade and by blood!” came the chorus of replies. “By blade and by blood!”

Dayne dug his feet into the ground and pulled hard on the rope in Loren’s hands. The force almost pulled the man from the saddle, but Loren managed to keep his balance.

A silence swept over the gathering. Loren stared down at Dayne, fury in his eyes. Dayne knew he would pay for what he was about to do.

“Valtara will be free!” he roared at the top of his lungs. “This is our home! Will you not fight for it? Do you call yourselves Valtarans?”

Loren yanked at the rope and hauled Dayne onto his knees. “I will not kill you yet. But I will happily watch you bleed. Yah!” Loren pulled at the reins and broke the horse into a fast walk, once more dragging Dayne onto his belly.

Dayne closed his eyes and tucked his head close to his manacled hands, gritting his teeth against every stone that found his sides, back, and legs.

Once through thegiant gates of Achyron’s Keep, two men in the pale blue of House Koraklon hauled Dayne upright. If they hadn’t held him, he would have collapsed in a bloody heap. The tops of his feet, his shins, knees, chest, and elbows were scraped clean of skin, bruises already forming around gashes where thrown rocks had split him.

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