Page 52 of Of Empires and Dust

Vandrien let out a long sigh, then rested her hand on Salara’s cheek, staring into her eyes.

“I know how much I have asked of you. I know it is not fair. But I also know that I would not have asked it of you if I did not think you capable of it.”

“On my honour, my queen, I am yours. Ask of me what you will, and I will see it done.”

Vandrien smiled softly, brushing her thumb across Salara’s cheek before turning back to look at the hundreds of elves huddled together in the open camp. “Show them they are safe. Give them a reason to believe, as you have done for us all. But most of all, show them that the darkness cast upon them will not go unpunished. Eltoar Daethana is not the master you once knew. That elf is dead. He is what remains. I need to know you will do what must be done.”

Salara looked out at the rescued elves, pity swirling with rage in her heart. She dropped so that her right knee hovered just off the ground. “Eia væra cuaran i sanvîr. Ur myia haydria.”

He will pay in blood. On my honour.

“Rise.” Vandrien pulled at Salara’s arm and lifted her upright. “Although the gesture is appreciated, I wish you to teach these elves how to stand, not how to kneel.” She pulled a long breath through her nose, then exhaled slowly. “The Lorians will strike at us soon. Once they see we are waiting for Efialtír’s moon to wane.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because it is what I would do, and Fane Mortem is many things, but he is no fool. The moon gives his mages an advantage over ours, an advantage that fades when the Blood Moon sets. In fact, I am quite curious as to why they haven’t attacked already.”

“Our scouts report large numbers of Lorian soldiers joining the ranks at Elkenrim, many of them travelling from the Svidar’Cia. Perhaps they are mustering.”

Vandrien’s eyes widened at that. She gave a sombre nod. “So he returned to where all of this began. Have our scouts push harder. Intercept messages, eliminate patrols. Take as many alive as you can. I want to know where the Lorians sleep, where they empty their bowels, what songs they sing. I want to know what Fane Mortem eats to break the fast. Knowledge wins wars, Salara.”

“I will pass the command on to the generals. What of this attack? How should we prepare?”

Vandrien traced her finger along the map. “Have you ever readThe Art of War,by Sumara Tuzan?”

Salara shook her head.

“She was a human tactician, from the Age of War. A brilliant mind for warcraft. If humans know anything, it is destruction and death.” Vandrien folded her arms. “Sumara posed that the simplest way to win a war is to destroy your opponent’s capacity to wage it. We began that by taking the mines near the Sea of Stone, and now we must continue on that path.”

“What would you have us do?”

“With the mines, we took their iron. Next, we must take their food, their gold, and their ability to communicate. We will use their advantage against them. Cut off the blood, and the limb will die. Cut off enough limbs, and the body will die.”

Chapter 14

From the Ashes

6thDay of the Blood Moon

Three hundred miles west of Greenhills, Loria – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

The icy embraceof the Rift pulled itself from Kallinvar’s bones as he stepped through, the hard, dry earth cracking beneath his boots.

The rest of The Second waited a few feet ahead, tall trees rising about them, dim pink light drifting through the canopy. Sylven remained in the temple, her wounds not yet healed. Even Heraya’s Well could not so easily mend the pain of a lost limb.

The Rift rippled behind him, and Sister-Captain Emalia stepped through, her entire chapter at her side. The Tenth was the only chapter still yet to suffer a loss, which was a testament to Emalia herself.

Emalia inclined her head to Kallinvar, bowing deeper than she ever had before. That was the case with many of the knightsafter Kallinvar had told them of Achyron’s voice. It had not been the response he’d expected but one that had eased the chaos in his mind.

Kallinvar looked about the dark woodland. The place would have seemed innocuous enough to mortal eyes, but to Kallinvar, the rot of the Taint clung to the air and oozed across the forest floor like a dark sludge. More importantly, drifting just below the surface, he felt a heart beating apart from his own, faint but alive.

A new Sigil Bearer.

He was still getting used to the sensation ever since Achyron had pulled him into the Godsrealm. Even as he stood there in the woodland, the dying voices of other potential Sigil Bearers whispered in his mind as they gave their last breaths to the wind. It was a dark thing to know that for any Sigil Bearer he chose to offer knighthood to, ten more would die, alone and helpless. Ten more who may well have been just as worthy, just as willing to fight for the world they loved. Another weight on already weary shoulders.

To think this was another burden Verathin had lived through alone. He had spoken to Kallinvar in the years past about hearing the heartbeats of the new bearers, hearing their whispers. Kallinvar himself had been given the honour of anointing no fewer than eleven bearers himself. But Verathin had never explained that in order to save one, so many others must be left to die. As it turned out, there was a lot Verathin had never said.

“Stay tight.” Kallinvar left the thoughts to float in his mind. “The Traitor’s hand is strong here. Have your knights move in pairs. Never alone.”

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