Page 96 of Of Empires and Dust

Her bare feet dragged along the ground, her eyes flickering between open and closed. The stone walls of a long corridorflashed past, the blue-green light blinding. They hadn’t taken her from the cell since the day they’d thrown her in. This was it, this was the day Hoffnar would parade her through the streets, humiliate her, and make a spectacle of taking her head from her shoulders.

There was a piece of Kira that wanted it, that wanted everything to finally be over. But she pushed that part of herself deep down, burying it where she could no longer hear its poison whispers. She turned her head and forced her eyes open, her vision blurry. An armoured hand was tucked beneath her left pit, the black and yellow cloak of Volkur draped from broad shoulders.

Cries rang out, and suddenly she was falling. The ground rose to meet her, and a hoarse scream escaped her as she slammed into the stone. Before she could understand what was happening, hands looped beneath her once more, hoisting her up and dragging her forwards. Her vision was clearing, her eyes adapting to the light. Groggily she turned her head side to side and saw two dwarves in heavy plate and black and yellow cloaks.

“Take her,” a voice said.

Kira’s stomach turned as she was hefted up, her feet lifting clear of the ground. Arms slipped beneath her legs and around her back. She bounced and rocked in a dwarf’s arms, looking up to see a face obscured by a sharp-cut helmet. She clenched her jaw and readied herself to jab her fingers through the slits in the dwarf’s helm. Just as she’d summoned the strength to do so, a dark blur flashed across her vision and a bolt slammed into the dwarf’s neck, shattering the mail that covered his throat.

The dwarf staggered, then collapsed forwards, sending Kira sprawling. She slammed against the floor and rolled, her head cracking against the wall, body aching.

New hands grabbed her and hauled her up, the sound of colliding steel ringing through the corridor.

“This way!”

Whoever was carrying her stopped and shifted in the direction of the voice.

Time blurred and sped past, Kira’s bones jarring with each step as her captor jostled her in their arms. Wherever they moved, shouts and crashing steel followed. The corridor turned to an open chamber, followed by another corridor and another chamber. Volkuran banners adorned the walls, mosaics decorating each ceiling.

Where in Hafaesir’s name were they taking her?

“There!” a voice called. “Through there, go!”

A sharp whistlewhooshedpast them, followed by an explosion. Stone dust filled the air, and Kira hacked a cough, her lungs burning with the thick dust. Her captor stumbled to a knee, then pulled themself upright and charged onwards. A door slammed behind them, and they stepped into a dimly lit chamber, the stone dust still occluding Kira’s sight.

“Quick, get her up!”

Kira drew a sharp breath of clean air, then made a choice. If she were to die, it would be here, fighting. She would not kneel at a headsman’s block or hang from a rope or be paraded through a street. She would die like a warrior, not a coward. She would make Hafaesir proud.

As the dwarf shuffled her in his hands, Kira struck upwards, slamming a closed fist into the chainmail that protected their neck. She howled, the steel ripping the infected scabs on her knuckles. But the blow had the intended effect.

The dwarf dropped her, clasping both hands over his throat.

Kira ignored the roaring pain as she hit the floor. She staggered to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, threatening to give way entirely. If she could just get to the door.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall.

She struck out, flailing with her hands and snapping with her teeth. She would not let them put her in another cell or drag her through the streets of her home. She would not die like an animal. Tears flowed as she roared and slammed her hands into the helmet of the dwarf who held her.

“Kira!” The dwarf grabbed Kira’s arms and held them down with the ease of a Jotnar subduing a child. “Stop. Stop.”

Kira trembled, her hands shaking, her eyes blurring with tears. “I’m not going back. I’m not going back!” she roared. “Kill me now!”

“Listen to the rock,” the dwarf said, her voice calm and familiar. “Silence is the sound of our home. Listen to the wind, for it breathes life into the soul of the mountain. See by the light of the Ward. Heraya watches us always. The beating of the hammer is Hafaesir’s heart. It guides us in the darkest days.”

Kira stared into the dwarf’s eyes through the slits in her helmet. She knew those words, remembered them as though they were still spoken in her mother’s voice. ‘The Soul of the Mountain’, by Igmar Olik. Kira stopped struggling. “Erani?”

The dwarf removed her helmet, revealing a face that Kira had not seen in over two years. “You didn’t think I would leave you there, did you?”

Kira tried to speak, but her throat closed, nothing but sharp breaths leaving her lips.

“It’s all right.” Her sister lifted her to her feet and slipped an arm around her shoulder. “We need to get you out of here. They’ll not be long in finding us.”

A look around the room told Kira they were in an access chamber, one of many that connected to the great tunnels. The dwarf she had struck in the throat stood beside a virtuk-drawn wagon, two more dwarves at his side. Another stood to the left, a human with dark hair and steel plate. Kira recognised her as Lumeera Arian, the captain of Oleg Marylin’s guard.

“Help me lift her up,” Erani said to the dwarf who was still rubbing his throat.

Kira’s back had barely rested against the frame of the narrow wagon before the virtuk launched into motion and the entire wagon lurched.

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