Page 328 of Of Empires and Dust

Kira had promised that if Lumeera and the others could buy them time, then she would even the odds with Hafaesir’s hammer. And so that is what Lumeera would do.

Kira watchedas the great doors of Vindakur turned to rubble. She stood at the centre of the main thoroughfare between the doors and the island upon which the Portal Heart resided. Just under three hundred dwarves stood around her – Erani, Vikmar, Ahktar, her uncle, and her cousins among them.

The vast majority of those who had come were of Kira’s Queensguard, for the bersekeer blood ran in the veins of the greatest warriors. But so too did Kira see many faces she didn’t recognise, some bearing the colours of the other kingdoms.

Each one of them had stripped themselves of their armour upon Kira’s instruction, their weapons laid on the stone. And each one held a vial of shimmering Rockblood, veins of glowing gold rippling through the black.

She looked down at the markings drawn in Rockblood along her bare arms and chest, many more along her shoulders, legs, face, and back. Markings she had never drawn with her own hand until that day but had seen in the memories of those that had come before her.

The Rites of Leadership were as old as the mountain itself. The blood of the king or queen willingly cut fresh each day and crushed with Heraya’s Ward, to be taken by the next in line, so that the histories of their people would never be lost. A chain unbroken.

Cries and shouts echoed through the enormous cavern, resounding off rock and stone. Flashes of lightning erupted at the doors, screams following, plumes of fire roaring. And still the Kingsguard of Belduar held their ground, as they always had. To a man they were some of the greatest warriors Kira had ever laid eyes on, and to a man they would be slaughtered were it not for Hafaesir’s gift.

Kira walked through the two columns of waiting dwarves, the markings of the Rockblood on their skin glowing with a black and gold shimmer. “Each of you has the blood of the bersekeers in your veins. The ancient blood of our people emboldened with Hafaesir’s fury. A fury you will need to wield his greatest weapon. It has been eight hundred years since the true form of the bersekeers has been witnessed. That changes today.”

Kira nodded to a dwarf who stood on a nearby roof, and the call of horns filled the air: the signal for the Kingsguard and those at the doors to fall back and pull from the main street.

“Let us show these dwarves of Volkur the fury of our people,” she roared. “Drink deep the blood of the mountain, and lay low those who threaten it. May Hafaesir guide you.”

Kira lifted the vial of Rockblood into the air, the gold veins shimmering within. Around her, the others did the same.

A brief moment of panic touched her heart when she looked at Erani, but that panic died in an instant. This would not be the last time she looked upon her sister. Hafaesir would not allow it. They would serve his will together. She knew it in her bones. “I love you, my sister, even if I do not say it enough.”

Erani inclined her head. “Where you lead, I follow.”

Kira nodded to her sister, brought the vial to her lips, and drank deeply. As she did, so did those around her.

The first step had been taken. A line crossed that could not be uncrossed.

She reached over and grabbed her sister’s hand as the burning started in her veins. “Listen to the rock.”

“Silence is the sound of our home,” Erani answered, pain twisting her words.

Kira’s skin cracked and flaked, crimson blood seeping through, her bones feeling as though they would burst through her flesh. She squeezed Erani’s hand. “Listen to the wind.”

Erani’s sudden scream cut off as she clamped her jaw shut. Her head jerked sideways, slivers of black rock slicing through the flesh of her neck. “For it breathes—Agh!” Her hand shook in Kira’s, her shoulders snapping back. “For it breathes life into the soul of the mountain!”

To Kira’s left, a blood-curdling scream erupted and a dwarf snapped backwards, his spine splitting so he stood like a crab, jagged rock bursting from his bones, steaming blood pouring onto the stone. More screams ripped through the cavern with the sound of bones splintering like dry kindling.

Kira gritted her teeth, her blood on fire. Her cracked skin blackened, shards of rock growing from her very flesh. She howled, her bones stretching.

More screams, and Kira watched as her cousins, Lomak and Kandzal, both twisted and broke, shoots of rock bursting from their skulls and spines.

She felt Erani let go of her hand, but her vision blurred and the burning in her blood rose to a new level of agony. Kira screamed until her throat went dry as dust, every piece of her shattering.

And then, from the depths of agony, her vision burst to life, illuminated with a golden light. A deep, seething rage blazed within her, and all she could do was dream of ripping the dwarves of Volkur limb from limb.

She took a lumbering step forwards, disoriented. Voices swirled in her head, voices she did not know, and yet she trusted them. They told her to lift Hafaesir’s hammer and smite his enemies across the mountain.

Kira dropped to one knee, the golden light in her eyes burning and blurring. She pressed a hand against the ground, and something within her called to the mountain – a fury, a need, a desire. Her fingers sank into the stone as though it were water and wrapped around something solid. With a roar, she pulled back and ripped her hammer from the rock itself, veins of shimmering gold rippling through its surface.

She took another step forwards, the rage within her building as she watched the elves and the dwarves of Volkur flood into the lost city.

Another step, her limbs feeling less awkward, a constant buzz droning in her ears, the rage within her slowly rising and rising until two steps became three, became four, and she was charging. Kira roared. The voice that left her lips was not her own, and the words on her tongue were strange and ancient, and yet she knew them.

A chorus of thundering roars joined hers, and the bersekeers of Durakdur charged.

Lumeera shoved her shield forwards,throwing the dwarf back, then twisted and drove her sword down through the slit in the dwarf’s helm, feeling the scrape of bone as the blade buried itself in his eye.

---