Page 410 of Of Empires and Dust

The wyvern answered with a roar and streaked downwards towards the walls. More roars answered, and Alina looked about to see her Wyndarii breaking into the four squadrons they had decided upon before the battle.

Alina’s blood burned with a fervour as the wyvern dropped lower, her fingers tightening around the wooden shaft of her javelin. Rynvar spun in the air, arrows skittering off his scales and whipping past Alina’s head.

“Steady,” she called, her face pressed to Rynvar’s neck. She pulled herself upright, feeling Rynvar’s movements beneath her. An arrow sliced past her head, the tip grazing her helmet. She could not hide now. A hunter needed to see their prey.

Alina drew a sharp breath and held it, feeling Rynvar do the same beneath her. Shrieks sounded overhead, letting her know that Mera and Amari had met the traitor Wyndarii in the air.

She tightened her grip on the left handle of the saddle until her knuckles went pale.

As Rynvar crashed down atop two Lorian soldiers on the ramparts, raking his talons through one and ripping the other’s arm free with his jaws, he spun and angled upwards. The world shifted about Alina as she looked down sideways onto the ramparts, time standing still for just a heartbeat. She picked her target, drew back her arm, and launched her javelin. The steel tip punched into the face of a Lorian mage, sinking into her eye and ripping her from the walls.

Alina snapped her javelin hand down onto the free handle and gripped with all her strength as Rynvar tore upwards. The buckles and chains would have kept her from falling from the wyvern’s back, but they didn’t stop her bones from breaking or body from flailing. She cast a glance over her shoulder as the rest of the Wyndarii swept down over the walls. Alina had known she would lose sisters this night, but her heart still ached as she watched wyverns burned from the sky with plumes of fire and arcs of lightning. Every wyvern that fell was paid for with the blood of fifty defenders. But her Wyndarii were worth a hundred.

On the plains below, her forces were almost at the gates, the white crests of the Andurii visible from up high, and behind them marched the Narvonan host, glittering in gold.

Rynvar let out a shriek, and two wyverns crashed into him from the side, snapping and tearing at him with tooth and talon. He ripped out the throat of the first, but the second stretched its neck forwards and came but a blade’s width from tearing Alina’s head free.

Alina reached back and released a second javelin from its clip, and when the wyvern’s head snaked forwards once more, she leaned back in the saddle and drove the javelin up through the soft flesh beneath its jaw. She pulled the tip free, then drove it back in again, blood sluicing from the wound and spraying over her face. The creature flapped and flailed before eventuallygoing limp and dropping from the sky. The Wyndarii on its back screamed as they fell, and Alina watched her unbuckle herself from the saddle and drop like a stone to the courtyard below, her screams cutting short as she landed in the fire that blazed around the gatehouse.

“Rise!” Alina roared to Rynvar, and the wyvern swept upwards to where Mera’s and Amari’s Wyndarii battled in the sky.

Dayne liftedhis head and winced at the blazing light that shone through the window. He tugged gently against his bonds, feeling the straps burn at the raw skin beneath. He tried to reach out to the Spark, probing the ward that shrouded him. Dayne had done the same every day but found the same result: the ward remained in place.

“Well,” Loren said, staring out at the city beyond. “It looks like your sister decided to forego negotiations.” He gave a downturn of his lip. “Disappointing. It seems as though you were expendable after all. The mighty Dayne Ateres, a casualty of his sister’s arrogance. That does seem to be a trait that runs in your family, doesn’t it? Arrogance, followed by death.”

“It’s not me who’ll be dying tonight,” Dayne answered, cracking his neck. He looked over at Baren, who was still strapped to the x-shaped stand, head drooping, mumbling but barely conscious. In the three nights Dayne had been there, Baren had barely opened his eyes, let alone spoken. His wounds were red and pussing, infection setting in. Loren had cleaned Dayne’s wounds but not Baren’s. He didn’t need Baren anymore. Baren had been bait for Dayne, and Dayne was bait for Alina.

“Is that so?” Loren walked from the window, stopping so he stood between Dayne and Baren. “That same Ateres arrogance. This is the night the bloodline of House Ateres dies. Your sister will lie broken against my walls, her wyvern food for the crows. You and your brother here will hang from these posts with your throats slit, and I will walk to young Arkin’s chambers and drive a sword through his heart.” He pursed his lips. “I’d rather not. He’s a good boy. But you Ateres are like weeds. Even one left alive will smother the whole garden.” He let out a long sigh. “Well, Dayne. I’ve enjoyed our time together, and I hope that, unlike your father, you have come to understand me a bit more.”

“I’m going to cut your fucking heart from your chest while you’re still breathing.”

“Said the lamb to the wolf.” Loren shook his head, smiling. He raised a finger, and a thin gash ripped open across Dayne’s chest, blood trickling.

Dayne glanced over at the corner of the room towards the man who sat in a rickety wooden chair, eyes fixed on Dayne. One of the four Lorian mages he had seen over the nights. Two always inside, the others at the door. He would have to deal with them before he got to Loren.

Loren turned to face Baren, resting his hand on the pommel of a knife at his belt. “No matter how this night ends, neither of you are of use any longer.” He glanced over his shoulder to Dayne. “What was it you said, Dayne? You would cut my heart from my chest while I was still breathing? That seems appropriate, seeing as you Ateres feel the need to mark where your heart is with that damn sigil.”

“Don’t touch him,” Dayne roared. “Don’t fucking touch him!”

“Stop me, Dayne.” Loren slid the knife from its scabbard, turning to Baren.

At the sight of the steel, Dayne slowed his breathing. He could feel the Lorian gemstone pulsing in his stomach after he’dswallowed it at Fort Lukaris along with enough Urlin Leaf to twist his gut. A trick Belina had taught him many years ago. An uncomfortable but useful trick.

Loren placed the tip of the blade against Baren’s chest.

Dayne had bided his time, waiting for Alina and the others to lay siege to the keep. Without them, there was no path by which Dayne could get both Baren and his nephew away from this place with their hearts still beating. Now that time had come, and Belina would be there shortly.

He honed in on that feeling of power that radiated from the gemstone and then opened himself to it.

Dayne let out a gasp as his veins filled with ice and his vision flashed black, nothing but the drum of his heart touching his ears. In an instant, the world came to life once more, light flooding into his eyes, sound crashing into his ears, and he felt stronger than he ever had.

Dayne wielded the Blood Magic as though it were the Spark, slicing threads of it through the leather bonds that held him.

A shout rang out behind him as Dayne fell forwards, his legs crumpling beneath him as they became reacquainted with his weight.

He could have snapped Loren’s neck there and then, twisted a coil of this dark magic around the man’s throat and pulled. But that would not be how he killed Loren Koraklon. He wanted to look the man in the eyes and do exactly as he had promised: cut out Loren’s heart while there was still breath in his lungs.

He made to leap forwards, his legs still fumbling beneath him.

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