Page 19 of Of Empires and Dust

Dahlen reached down and dragged free the blade that was still lodged in the Bloodmarked’s chest, nodding to the man who had saved his life. He rolled back his shoulders and roared. “Forwards!”

The rain had slowedto a trickle when Dahlen walked among the dead. His boots sucked into the blood-soaked mud, his gaze passing over the twisted faces and broken bodies. About him, men and women hauled the corpses into carts, salvaging weapons and armour as they went. He wasn’t sure how many they’d lost. A hundred or so, likely more. There wouldn’t be time for a count before the next attack. There would just be faces never seen again.

“I believe this is yours.” Nimara appeared at Dahlen’s side, holding out a mud-covered sword with a triangular pommel.

“Thank you.” Dahlen inclined his head as he took the sword and slid it into its sheath across his back. “I wasn’t looking forward to having to search for that.”

“You need to learn to hold onto it better,” Nimara said with a half-smile. Even with her blonde hair streaked with blood and dirt, the gold, silver, and bronze rings tied through her braid gleamed in the crimson moonlight. She held his gaze, a soft smile curling her lips. “You fought well.”

“I’d have died well if not for you and the Lorian cavalry.” Dahlen glanced over to where the Lorian riders were tending to the horses. They had arrived a week or so before, along with four mages and some two hundred infantry. Their auxiliary force hadbeen caught in an Urak ambush when trying to relieve Camylin, and the survivors had fought their way back to Salme.

Beside him, one of the Belduaran captains, Camwyn, spat into the mud. “We should have left them to the Uraks.”

“Aye,” another, by the name of Thannon, said. He glared at the Lorian soldiers, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “There’s still time.”

A grumble of agreement spread through the Belduarans – fifteen of whom had survived the battle.

“Without them, this battle would have been lost.” Dahlen too had wanted the Lorians turned away and left to the Uraks at first, but the council had granted them access to Salme so long as they defended its people. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, but at least they fought well. And if his enemies would die to keep him alive, he would let them.

“Respectfully, my lord—” Camwyn clenched her jaw, twisting her neck to look at the Lorian cavalry “—those pieces of shit burned my home to the ground. They murdered thousands. Men, women, children. They didn’t draw lines, they just slaughtered. I watched my brothers and sisters of the Kingsguard give their lives as we fled down the Wind Tunnels. I will neither forgive nor forget.”

“I’m not asking you to. All I’m asking is that you let them give their lives instead of yours, that you let them fight and die defending this place rather than bolstering another Lorian army.”

“That I can do. But if I get the chance, I’m telling you now, I will burn them all alive, just like their dragons did to us.”

Dahlen only grunted at that. What could he say? If it had been his city, his home that had been torched in the Lorian dragonfire, his friends and kin burned alive, he would have felt the same way. Truth was, he already did.

“Captain Nimara.” Almer’s voice broke the rising tension as he strode through the mud, Yoring and three of the other dwarves at his side.

Nimara inclined her head.

“The Uraks have fallen back, and the perimeter is secure. I’ve set dwarves on watch while the breach is rebuilt, but there are not enough of us and the human captains seem content arguing amongst themselves – something about a market from last winter.”

“I’ll speak with them,” Dahlen said with a sigh. It had been the same ever since he had arrived at Salme. With so many souls gathering from across the western villages and beyond, the chain of command was nigh on non-existent. The village councils had banded together and elected representatives, but on the field of battle they were scattered. There was no plan, no strategy, no system. Each night they fought with only one thing in mind: survival.

“See that you do.” Nimara’s green eyes held on Dahlen’s, her tone sharp. “We cannot carry on like this. If we’re not organised before the next attack, we may as well roll over and die.”

“I’ll speak with them.” Dahlen ran his fingers through his saturated hair, letting out a long puff of air. “Still no word from Kira or Oleg?”

Nimara shook her head. “Not since the news of King Lakar’s election in Azmar.”

Dahlen nodded slowly, pressing his fingers into his cheeks. It hadn’t been long since Oleg’s last letter, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was that same feeling he’d had since before leaving the Freehold. There was more going on there than any of them realised. He was sure of it.

“My queen can handle herself. As can Queen Elenya. They will look after the Belduarans.” Nimara brushed her hand against Dahlen’s, only for a moment, but long enough to makehis heart flutter. “I’m going to walk the wall, make sure there are no gaps in the guard.” She stepped closer, holding his gaze, her voice a whisper. “I could use a warm bed tonight.”

Dahlen inclined his head, and the dwarf smiled as she pulled away. Before Nimara turned, she nodded towards something over Dahlen’s shoulder.

Dahlen turned to see the same mountain of a man that had saved him in the fighting. The man stood a head taller than Dahlen, a chest like two oak barrels, shoulders as wide as a draught horse’s. He still held the warhammer in his right hand, the dual-sided head floating just over the mud.

“Thank you.”

The man raised a curious eyebrow.

“For saving my life.”

He grunted. “You lead well. The Belduarans follow you, as do the others. My life is easier with you alive, and my people are safer.”

“My name is Dahlen Virandr.” Dahlen reached out his arm, which the enormous man grasped.

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