Page 252 of Of Empires and Dust

Tuk twisted and threw open the lid to the chest nearest him, producing a long golden dagger, an Essence vessel set into its hilt. He leapt to his feet and swiped at Garramon’s arm, neck, then chest.

Each time, Garramon shifted in place, allowing the man to stumble around like a hapless idiot. And when he felt Tuk tapping into the gemstone, Garramon grabbed the man’s wrist and snapped it back, catching the dagger with his other hand.

He turned the blade over, admiring it. “There is something ironic about a Healer pulling a dagger on a Battlemage. Then again, you always were a snake.”

Garramon smashed his forehead into the bridge of Tuk’s nose, earning a beautifulsnap, blood spurting as the man staggered backwards into the foot of the bed.

“Up. I’ll give you one last swing at this.”

The man grunted and stumbled forwards, pinching his bloody nose. “You won’t get away with this, Kalinim. You won’t.”

“It’s been four hundred years since the war ended, Solman. I could slit your throat and bury you beneath this tent, and this army will march on without asking a single question. Come on, it’s just me standing between you and leaving this tent.”

Tuk squeezed his nose one last time before lunging at Garramon. He snatched an iron bowl off the table and hurled it through the air.

The bowl bounced off Garramon’s raised arm, hot wax splashing over his face and shirt. The pain was nothing compared to the fire in his veins. He sidestepped a punch from Tuk, then jabbed him in his already-broken nose. As the man howled, Garramon grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face down into the bowl of burning sage on the desk.

Tuk screamed and reeled backwards, swatting the hot ash from his skin.

Garramon threw a fist into the man’s ribs, and as Tuk doubled over, he clasped the back of Tuk’s head and dragged it down into his rising knee.

Tuk slumped to the ground, rolling onto his back. He gasped for air as Garramon rested his knee into the man’s gut.

“If you ever so much as look at Rist Havel…” Garramon wrapped his fingers around Tuk’s robes and lifted the man’s head and chest from the floor. “I will burn out your eyes.”

Garramon slammed his fist into Tuk’s face, knocking the man’s head back to the floor, a fresh cut bursting open just below his eye.

He wrapped his fingers tighter and pulled the man back up. “If you speak to him, I will break your legs and leave you in the Burnt Lands.”

Garramon drove his fist into Tuk’s broken nose as hard as he could, the skin on his knuckles cracking with the impact.

“The only reason I’m not going to kill you is because death is too swift.” Garramon snatched Tuk’s dagger from the floor. Helet his anger rise, let it burn in his voice. “You twisted my son, fed him lies, then betrayed him, all for what? To hurt me?”

“Tobreakyou,” Tuk spat, his head lolling, face covered in blood. “To teach you what it is to lose something.”

“There it is…” Garramon’s jaw trembled, and his fingers tightened around the dagger’s hilt. Where Garramon thought he would find blind rage within himself, he suddenly instead found a sense of relief, of calm. He had been right all these years. He had been right. “So you admit it?”

“Of course I do. You already knew. You knew then, and you know now.”

“You took my son from me.”

The High Ardent shook his head, coughing blood. “No… No.Youkilled your son. You had a choice, and you made it. All I did was tempt him. He was the one who took the bait, and you were the one who swung the sword. You killed him, Garramon. Not me.”

“I did. I made the wrong choice, and I will never make that mistake again. I will not. But my guilt does not absolve yours, and I’m the one with the knife. I won’t kill you, Tuk.”

“Thank you… Brother Garramon.” A fake smile danced on Tuk’s lips. “A life for a life and we’d all be dead. I’m sorry for what I did, truly. I’m sorry.”

Garramon nodded and returned the man’s smile. “You’re right, a life for a life serves no purpose. But you took my son from me, and now I must take something in return.”

“What?” Tuk lifted his head from the floor, eyes wide.

Garramon pressed his knee down harder into the man’s stomach and wrapped his hand around Tuk’s throat. “This will hurt more than anything you can imagine.”

Garramon opened himself to the Spark, thick threads of each elemental strand flowing through him. He held them, savouredthem, then pushed every drop of power in his veins into the High Ardent.

Tuk screamed, but Garramon’s hand around his throat silenced him. The High Ardent tried to push back, but his strength was a trickling stream next to Garramon’s. He jerked upwards, veins bulging in his head and neck. And then Garramon felt it – felt the man’s connection to the Spark shatter. Tuk convulsed, his fingers snapping and cracking as he twisted and jerked. A white light shone from his eyes, growing brighter and brighter until the smell of burnt flesh filled the air and Tuk’s eye sockets were nothing but blackened husks. The man stopped kicking and screaming.

Garramon took no pleasure in what he did. He knew it was monstrous. But he cared little. Solman Tuk had wormed his way into Malyn’s head, convinced him to turn on his family and his friends, only to tear him apart. There was no pain in the world Garramon would not inflict on this man for what he had done to Malyn. And Garramon would not let the same thing happen to Rist. Rist, whose mind was already more fragile, already more vulnerable than Malyn’s had ever been.

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