Page 469 of Of Empires and Dust

“He cared about you, lad,” Magnus said.

“I know.”

“All he wanted was to get you out of that city. There was nothing else.”

“Why did you come with me, Magnus? Why not stay?”

“For what? To keep fighting wars I lost interest in centuries ago? Anila is gone. Garramon is gone. People – they are what’s important, lad. And when you live long enough, you learn to choose your people carefully. Fane was always a prick anyway.”Magnus grasped a stick and poked a log in the fire, sending a shower of sparks into the air. “When we finally reach the South, where do you want to go?”

“Me?”

“No, the fucking shrub behind you. Of course you. Where are we going, Rist?”

Rist stared into the flames for a few more moments, reading over Garramon’s letter again in his mind. “Home,” he said. “I’d like to go home.”

Chapter 109

The Moon and the Stars

29thDay of the Blood Moon

Salme – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

Distant cracksof thunder rumbled in the dark skies above Salme as Dann sat on the trunk of the fallen tree upon the hill that overlooked the city. The fire crackled, and the branches of nearby trees creaked and groaned.

Tarmon sat on the far side of the fire, knees pulled to his chest, his stare lost in the flames. Vaeril and Erik were opposite him, while Lyrei sat with her back to the trunk.

Therin was perched atop a flat rock, staring up at the star-studded sky, charcoal and parchment in his lap, the young smith – Valdrin – beside him. Therin hadn’t lifted the charcoal even once. He’d just sat in silence; they all had. Not a single word had passed since before night had fallen.

Dann had gone to that spot first.

“If you had been here like you said you would, she might still be alive. But you weren’t, and she’s not.”

This was the spot he had spoken those words. Those words that would forever be burned into his mind. Calen had not deserved them, but he had taken them and said nothing. And now he was gone. Both Calen and Rist… gone.

Dann didn’t have words to describe the pain that sundered his heart. His brothers were gone. Without them he was not whole. He was nothing, and he was numb. Lyrei had tried to drag him from the pit of his own depression, but he had snapped at her, and now all they had was silence.

Even then he looked down from the tree trunk and watched her as she stared into the night. His heart told him to drop himself beside her and apologise, but his body did not answer the command.

The sound of crunching dirt drifted from behind him, and he tilted his head to see Vaeril climbing atop the trunk. The elf sat to Dann’s left and stared down at the fire.

After a few minutes’ silence, he made to speak, but all that left his lips was a breath. Vaeril closed his eyes for a moment, dragging air in through his nostrils. “He trusted me…”

Dann pressed his fingers into his temple as he looked over at Vaeril, the firelight glistening in tears that rolled slow and steady down the elf’s cheek.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dann said, his aching heart redoubling in pain. There was a time when he’d thought Vaeril incapable of emotion. To see the elf cry was like watching a mountain crumble.

“He was… he was my friend, and he trusted me. We were Vandasera…”

“Vaeril…”

“I should have died with him.”

Dann grasped Vaeril’s shoulder and squeezed hard enough for his fingers to go stiff. “Never say that. Do you hear me? Never.”

“It’s true, I?—”

“It’s not,” Dann snapped. He swallowed hard. “Calen would never have wanted that.”

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