Page 41 of Of Empires and Dust

Magnus was perched at the top of a boulder to Rist’s right that rose higher than the tents around it. The man was shirtless, revealing the scars that covered his chest and shoulders – likely from his ‘education’ in the Circle. The stump of his left arm, however, held no scarring, only clean, rounded flesh where the Healers had knitted the skin back together. He held a bulgingwaterskin in his right hand that Rist was absolutely sure did not contain water.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Rist walked towards the foot of the boulder.

Magnus nodded towards a flat space beside him. “Get your skinny arse up here.”

Rist’s muscles groaned as he climbed up the rock and settled himself to Magnus’s left.

Magnus handed him the waterskin. Rist’s suspicions were confirmed when he pulled the stopper from the top and burned his nostrils from the fumes.

Magnus only laughed, the sharp smell of spirits wafting from his breath. “Whiskey from Drifaien. Wine is for celebrating. Whiskey… whiskey is for everything else. Let it sit on your tongue before swallowing.”

Rist took a swig, forcing himself not to swallow the harsh spirit. To his surprise, the taste mellowed, becoming almost sweet.

“Couldn’t sleep or didn’t want to?” Magnus asked as he took the skin back and poured the whiskey, as though it were water, into his open mouth.

Rist stared off into the distance. “Didn’t want to.”

“It’ll get easier.”

“Will it?”

“No.” Magnus handed the skin back to Rist. “Whiskey helps though.”

“Are you not cold?”

Magnus gave Rist a toothless smile that held no joy. “The whiskey is my blanket tonight, lad. Sometimes the cold reminds me I’m not dead. Though, that might have been an easier path.” Magnus snorted, letting out a gruff laugh. “Typical Anila, always taking the easy road.”

Rist looked back at him for a moment, then turned his gaze towards the ground below.

“How are you holding up, besides the nightmares?”

Rist nodded, sipping from the skin. “Fine. I just… can’t wrap my head around everything that happened.”

“I’d be more worried if you could. I’ve seen a lot in my years, but I’ve never seen anything like that. We watched Efialtír’s Chosen cross through the veil between worlds. We watched a god reach his hand into our world and save us. It was a thing of beauty, but beautiful things are often the most terrifying.”

That wasn’t quite how Rist remembered it, but he said nothing.

“I would have preferred if he’d arrived in time to save my arm, though.” Magnus looked down at the stump of his left arm, which extended only about six inches from his shoulder. “I can still feel it, you know. Still feel my elbow bending, my fingers moving. It’s the strangest thing. At least it was my left.”

“I couldn’t even imagine having to learn to use a sword with my other hand.” Rist stretched his off hand in front of himself, trying to imagine the weight of a blade, the pull of the leather. “It took long enough to learn with my good hand.”

“Hah.” Magnus choked on a laugh after swigging from the waterskin. “Sure, sword. That’s what I meant.”

They sat there in silence for a while, passing the skin back and forth, Rist trying to work out what Magnus had meant.

“I’ve lived over five centuries, lad, and only recently did I learn a very important lesson.” Magnus stared up at the Blood Moon as it emerged from behind a dark cloud, his eyes glassy. “Even though you didn’t ask, which is strange because usually I can’t shut you the fuck up for all the questions, I’m gonna tell you anyway because whiskey is the world’s best lubricant.”

The man shifted where he sat so that he stared into Rist’s eyes. Beads of whiskey dripped from his thick black beard.

“When you care for someone, tell them. There are things in this world we always assume don’t need to be said because theyare understood.” Magnus shook his head, leaning one arm on his knee. “But we’re always wrong. I loved Anila. Not in the sappy, mushy, spread my heart on her face kind of way, but I loved her. She was good.” Magnus nodded to himself, frowning. “Better than most anyone I know. She was kind, too. I know she came off as a bit of a bitch from time to time. But that was just her way. That woman’s heart was golden. She was like a hedgehog – prickly on the outside, soft on the inside.”

Magnus spluttered laughing, spraying whiskey into the air. “If she knew I’d compared her to a hedgehog…”

“She’d give you one of those stares.”

“Too right. Or she’d stab me.”

“Stab you?”

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