Page 378 of Of Empires and Dust

“That was a rousing speech.” Erdhardt Fellhammer stepped up beside Dahlen, his warhammer – Bonebreaker – in an iron grip around the neck. The weapon was a behemoth of a thing, larger and somehow sleeker than his previous, steel dark enough to be almost black, one side like a monstrous meat pounder, theother like a dragon’s tooth. “You put a fire in the belly of every soul in this city. It’s a pity nobody outside these walls will ever know what you said.”

Dahlen followed Erdhardt’s gaze to where the torches had started spilling down the hill like sparks from a flame, war drums thumping in the night.

This was it then. No matter how valiantly they fought, no matter how ferocious or brave, there was no overcoming a horde of Uraks that large.His thoughts shifted to his brother, Erik, who would arrive to find nothing but ash and broken things.

I love you, brother. And I’m sorry it’s been so long. It should never have been this long. I just needed to find my feet.

As the flames of the torches drew closer, a thought came to Dahlen and he pushed through the wall’s defenders until he found Lanan Halfhand standing with a wicked-looking sickle in each hand, the edges honed to a gleaming finish.

She narrowed her gaze at his approach and leaned in. “What?”

Dahlen whispered in her ear. “We should get as many of the children onto the boats as we can. Two at a time, without causing a stir.”

She knew precisely what he meant. There were over a thousand children currently in the city and only space for a couple hundred on the boats. There was no sense in all of them dying. But if people heard the boats were leaving, some might allow their courage to falter and think they deserved a place aboard, just like Yarik.

“I’ll have it done.”

Dahlen grabbed her arm as she went to leave. “You should go with them. And Anya too. Maybe three or four you trust. The children will need people to guide them. The Valtarans will take you at Skyfall, I’m sure of it.”

“This is my home, Dahlen. I will die here if I must, but I will not run.” Lanan gestured towards a surly man with a polished head and thick beard. She whispered something to him, and he glared at her in return before eventually giving a gruff nod, glancing at Dahlen, then vanishing down the stairs. “It will be done.”

He left Lanan to ready herself in peace and returned to Nimara and the others. The dwarf turned to him with that piercing stare of hers. A soft smile caressed her lips. And with the smile came the wish that death would not find him that night, because he truly desired to spend a lifetime learning Nimara’s heart and soul.

“Keep looking at me like that,” she said, grasping his hand. “May your fires never be extinguished.”

“And your blade never dull.”

Dahlen turned to the battlements and looked out at the charging mass of leathery skin and torches. Now, spread out from the top of the hill to the open plain at its feet, their number was uncountable.

“Give no ground!” Dahlen roared. “No mercy! Warriors of Salme, are you ready to die for your home?”

Spears and swords clattered against steel in answer, roars lifting into the night.

“When they tell stories of this night, let them say that we were the demons! That we were the monsters!”

A chorus of shouts answered, and Dahlen Virandr prepared himself to die.

Chapter 88

Brothers

24thDay of the Blood Moon

Salme – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

“Take it down!”Dahlen roared, pointing towards the Bloodmarked that had hauled itself through the second trench, arrows jutting from its chest, a massive hole through its right arm where it had fallen on a spike.

Bowstrings snapped and arrows found their mark. Five in the chest, three in the left leg, four in the right, one through the neck. The beast kept moving, the runes etched into its skin glowing with a fury. Beneath the light of the red moon, the creatures were true monstrosities.

“Give it here!” Erdhardt bellowed beside him. He snatched a spear from another man’s grasp, wrapped his gigantic hand around the wooden shaft, and launched it.

The spear punched into the Bloodmarked’s face, sending the creature sprawling back into the trench behind it, stakesbursting through its chest. The Bloodmarked roared and thrashed, its runes billowing black smoke, until finally it went limp.

All along the walls, shouts and the twang of bowstrings filled the night. Young men and women darted up and down the stairs, carrying buckets of arrows and bundles of spears, sweat streaming down their faces. The bulk of the Urak force were held behind the first trench, stretching back into the night, while the front lines pushed through the pit of wooden stakes.

Hundreds of the beasts already lay dead, studded with arrows, limbs snapped and broken, chests impaled. Those that made it across the first trench found the open bank between the two laced with crude bear traps hidden beneath piles of cracked winter leaves – the idea of a hunter from Talin. They were simple but horrifyingly effective. One wrong step and jagged bands of iron shattered legs in a single bite; but there were only so many.

“Lord Captain.” A red-haired youth that Dahlen didn’t recognise thrust a spear into his hand, then sprinted back down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

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