Page 380 of Of Empires and Dust

He leaned forwards in his saddle and ran his fingers along the black steel that barded his horse’s neck. Erik had only seen Varsundi Blackthorns a handful of times in his short life. Never in a thousand years had he thought he’d find himself riding one. When they’d stolen the horses from the Lorians, Erik had given this one the name Shadow. It was a simple name, but he’d never been good at naming things. The beast seemed almost eager for battle, snorting as it walked, barded in black steel and leather. Behind him, some four hundred of the Dracurïn rode on horseback, almost half that number being Blackthorns. Atara rode astride an Angan, Harken on a bay gelding that looked like a pony beneath him. Fifty Triarchy mages, along with Vaeril and Queen Tessara herself, rode astride the white-furred stags that were the Dvalin Angan. It would be a cavalry charge to be feared.

A clap of thunder rolled through the sky overhead, dark stormclouds brewing.

Erik could feel the tension build in those around him as they drew closer, the screams and cries of battle rolling back up the hill. From there, sat astride his mount, it looked as though the Urak front lines had just reached the walls, swarming over the trenches like a wave of ants. His brother was in that city, and knowing Dahlen, he was standing at the heart of everything. They had never been apart this long.

“Just hold on,” Erik whispered.

Just ahead, Tarmon lifted a horn to his lips and kicked his mount into a canter.

Erik tightened his grip on the reins and pushed Shadow forwards. The horse needed little encouragement.

Tarmon picked up the pace, Shadow and the other horses following suit.

The sound of the horn consumed all else, and Erik clenched his jaws and snapped at his reins. “Yah! Forward!”

The Blackthorn broke into a gallop, the earth churning beneath him. Erik drew slow breaths, his heart racing. He pulled himself low, grasping the reins with his left hand and sliding a sword from its scabbard with his right, the world shaking every time the horse’s hooves smashed into the ground.

The air smelled of dirt and death. The only sounds were screams and thumping hooves. The light was that of the bleeding moon.

“For the world of men, we fight!” Tarmon roared, his voice carrying above even the thunder of hooves. “For the Draleid, we fight! Dracurïn, with me!”

A chorus of roars rose in response, and the hairs on Erik’s neck and arms pricked, a shiver running through him, a fervour burning in his heart. He thrust his sword into the air and let his voice join the others. This was the war his father had prepared him for. This was the war he was born to fight.

The beasts at the Uraks’ rear turned to face the charge, shock etched into their leathery faces.

Erik’s heart hammered twice, and then the cavalry crashed into the Urak line. Even the Uraks couldn’t stand in the face of Shadow’s charge. The Blackthorn smashed through two of the creatures while Erik swung his steel and carved open another’s jaw. Streams of lightning and fire plumed from the elven mages astride the Dvalin, ripping paths through the Urak horde.

He swung again, his blade splitting an Urak face from cheek to cheek, dark blood spraying.

Shadow reared and smashed his hoof into another of the beasts’ throats, then slammed them down into the chest of an Urak that had fallen, bones shattering beneath the horse’s weight. Erik turned to see a Bloodmarked cleave a horse in two with its claws, red eyes fixed on him.

“Yah!” He tugged at the reins and angled Shadow to face the beast. But as he did, an enormous white stag rammed into the Bloodmarked’s side, gold-veined obsidian antlers splitting the creature’s hide and lifting it from its feet.

The Dvalin Angan thrashed its head side to side, antlers shredding leathery flesh, runes burning with red light. Vaeril sat astride the Angan, that magnificent blade – Ünviril – glistening in his fist. He waved his empty hand, and the Bloodmarked was torn free of the Angan’s antlers as though by the gods themselves.

“Imbahír, Dracurïn!” Vaeril roared.Forward, Dracurïn.“Aldryr ar Orimyn!”

Fire and fury.

Cries sounded at Erik’s back, and the infantry fell in around them, the white dragon tinted pink in the moon’s hue, the Triarchy elves charging alongside them.

But as they did, arcs of purple lightning tore through a thick of bodies, ripping four riders apart along with their mounts, the acrid smell of burnt flesh filling the air.

Two Fades burst from the swell of Uraks, black-fire níthrals in their hands. Uraks flowed after them, and the creatures ripped into the infantry like demons unleashed.

Queen Tessara howled as she charged past Erik and sent a plume of fire from her palm, devouring three Uraks. She swung the glaive in her right fist and cleaved a Fade’s arm at the elbow. But as she made to turn, an enormous black spear burst through the neck of the Dvalin Angan upon which she rode. The Angan stumbled sideways, blood pouring over its white fur, then collapsed into the dirt, Tessara leaping from its back. She swirled in the churned earth, swinging her glaive about her as though it were light as a feather. Uraks fell everywhere her steel moved, and warriors of Vaelen charged in around her, but the two Fades circled her like vipers.

“Imbahír!” Erik snapped at Shadow’s reins. He doubted Shadow understood the Old Tongue, but the word had found its way to his lips without a thought and the horse understood his need nonetheless. Shadow broke into a savage charge, crushing an Urak beneath his hooves. “Inari!”

Tessara pivoted in reaction to Erik’s shout, stepping aside as Shadow swept past and Erik’s blade opened an Urak throat. The horse reared and kicked a beast in the face before bucking and thrusting its hind hoof into a Fade’s jaw. The Fade crashed into the dirt, its jaw hanging lose, its nose and cheeks shattered and broken. And still the creature made to rise.

Before the Fade had climbed to its feet, Tessara surged past Shadow, her hands empty. A brilliant light burst from her right fist, taking the shape of a deep blue blade. The Queen brought the níthral above her head and drove it down into the Fade’schest, eliciting an otherworldly shriek from the creature as it thrashed and writhed.

“Yah!” Erik roared, and Shadow charged. He released the reins, pulled his feet from the stirrups, and launched himself from the horse’s back. As he hit the ground, Erik rolled, rising to one knee between Tessara and the second Fade, its níthral poised to take her head. He drove his sword into the creature’s thigh, released the handle, then ripped his second sword from its scabbard over his left shoulder and opened a gaping wound across the Fade’s chest. Before the creature could react, Erik thrust the tip of his sword through the bottom of its jaw, the steel slicing through the cold flesh and up into the skull.

Even with the steel splitting its skull, the Fade’s bottomless black eyes stared at him, its lips twisting.

The creature howled as steel carved through its neck from behind and left its head impaled on Erik’s blade, body slumping. Erik snapped his sword down and flicked the Fade’s severed head into the mud. He slid his first blade from the creature’s thigh and looked up to see Atara already carving deeper into the Urak lines, moving like a herald of death, her blade tearing the Uraks to pieces.

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