Page 36 of Of Empires and Dust

“You all right?” Erik appeared at Dann’s left, his blond hair tucked back behind his ears, his eyes focused on Dann. Around them, elves and humans alike shuffled their way forwards, the slap of feet and the murmurs of quiet chatter drifting through the city. But the man had a way about him, a kind of intensity that made it feel like his attention was always singular.

“Me?” Dann asked, raising an eyebrow. He sucked in his cheeks and shook his head. “Never better. If only I could undo this damn top button.”

Erik gave Dann a half-smile that held more sadness than he’d anticipated. The man forced a laugh and touched the high collar of his own shirt, identical to Dann’s but for its deep yellow hue in place of white. “It’s customary,” he said, trailing his finger along the rim of the collar. “A bit uncomfortable, but still. Therin gifted you that one, did he not? It would?—”

“It would be a great dishonour to him if I were to undo the top button. I’ve been told.” Dann inclined his head towards Lyrei. “Manytimes. Where I’m from, a great dishonour would be taking a shit on someone’s doorstop, not undoing the top button of a shirt.”

Erik choked out a laugh, turning as Tarmon Hoard patted him on the back and stepped between him and Dann, Vaeril following close behind.

“Correct me if I’m mistaken,” Vaeril said, lifting his index finger in the air, “but I do believe Therin would also find great dishonour in you shitting on his doorstep.”

“I think you might be right,” Dann answered. “When did you develop a sense of humour?”

“We’re not so different, elves and humans.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

The smile that spread across Vaeril’s face made Dann think back to the first time he’d met the elf, the same time he’d met Alea and Lyrei. Every one of the five elves that had accompanied them from the Darkwood to Belduar had been stony-faced and rigid. For a time, Dann had actually thought elves couldn’t feel emotions at all. How wrong he’d been.

A silence passed amongst Dann and the others. He didn’t like silence – it left him alone with his own thoughts – so he filled it.

“Do we have much further to walk?” he asked nobody in particular, stretching onto his toes to see over the column of elves that marched ahead. “If I’d known this ceremony was taking place on the other side of the continent, I’d have brought food.”

“It is not far,” Vaeril answered, looking ahead. “With King Silmiryn falling in battle –Heraya embrace him – King Galdra and Queen Uthrían had the Craftsmages construct a new section of the city for the ceremony as a memorial.”

Tarmon shook his head, casting his gaze about at some of the white stone towers that jutted up towards the sky. “You would think there would have been better uses of the Craftsmages’ time, given half the city is still in ruin.”

“To my people, there is little that is more important than remembering those we have lost.”

“Well,” Tarmon said with a tilt of his head, “if we don’t repair the gaps in the walls, we’ll be joining the lost once the Uraks reach the city.”

“Delightfully morbid, Tarmon,” Dann said, shaking his head.

Tarmon shrugged. “Just realistic.”

After a short while, the street sloped downwards, broadening into a large courtyard.

“Well, fuck.” Dann stopped in his tracks.

Before him, on the other side of the courtyard, stood an enormous archway where the city backed against a sheer cliffthat rose a couple hundred feet. Two dragon statues framed the arch, both carved from the rock itself. They stood a measure with the arch, wings folded at their sides. Glowing veins of erinian stone traced along the pattern of the scales. It was, quite simply put, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even in the crimson light of the moon.

The elves ahead of them continued their march, passing through the archway without a second look at the statues. Dann hoped he’d never grow so accustomed to beauty that he failed to notice its presence.

Erik tapped Dann on the shoulder, then nodded behind them to where the column of over three thousand had ground to a halt.

“Why did they all stop?”

Erik looked at him as though he were an idiot. “Because you stopped.”

Dann paused a moment, narrowing his eyes at Erik before looking back at the others. The five captains Haem had selected – Ingvat, Surin, Narthil, Allinín, and Sylehna – all looked to him, backs straight, shoulders squared.

“Does anybody realise how bad an idea it is to put me in charge of anything?” Dann whispered to Tarmon.

“You’re not in charge,” Tarmon whispered back as he turned towards the column of warriors, many of whom were still gawking at the statue. He raised his voice. “Captains, ensure the silence is kept during the ceremony. Onwards.”

Tarmon straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, bringing a closed fist to his chest. The five captains mimicked the gesture, lifting their chins.

It was in that brief moment that Dann remembered Tarmon Hoard had once been Lord Captain of the Belduaran Kingsguard, if for a short time.

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