Page 439 of Of Empires and Dust

More Battlemages charged down the street behind Magnus, soldiers moving with them, whips of Air and Fire slicing through kerathlin.

Magnus clasped Rist’s shoulder. “I’ve been fucking looking for you everywhere. We need to go. Now. The city is falling. The retreat’s been sounded.”

“Garramon,” Rist said, coughing the last of the dust from his lungs. “He went to the tower. We need to?—”

“No. We’re not going to the tower. We’re leaving. Do you understand me?”

“What?”

“We’re leaving. We’re taking the northern gates and following the river west. We’ll catch a boat towards Antiquar.”

“I… But Garramon… We need to get Garramon.”

“Garramon’s not coming, lad. He sent me.”

“But…”

Magnus grabbed the sides of Rist’s head, tight. “He’s not coming. He’s buying us time. Let’s not waste it. We don’t have time for those long chats you love. There are dwarves in the city as well. Ugly bastards with big axes.”

Rist lifted his gaze and stared up at the High Tower, arcs of lightning streaking from its many windows and balconies, crashing down into the city. The shape of Helios soared in the clouds behind it, pouring fire down over whole sections of the city. He looked back down at Neera, who was slumped against his chest.

“Give her to me,” Magnus said, wrapping an arm around Neera and slinging her over his shoulder. “She helped carry me from that mountain. I can return the favour.” He looked Rist dead in the eye. “I need you to trust me, Rist. I’m all for dying a heroic death, but crushed by a fucking rock or eaten by some bastard of a spider is not how I want to go out. There are tunnels that can get us most of the way.”

“No tunnels.” Rist thought back to the holes in the yard, the kerathlin swarming upwards. “They’re coming from underground.”

“Right, fuck that. We can make it to the gates, but we need to go now.”

Rist took one last look up at the High Tower, then nodded to Magnus, and they set off towards the northern gates.

Garramon pushed openthe doors of the chamber to find Fane standing over his desk. Water dripped from Garramon’s robes, trailing on the stone.

Fane turned to him, a look of relief in his eyes. “Garramon. You’re here, good. I sent Chosen to find you before the attack. Kerathlin and Depth Stalkers? The elves are predictable but those dwarves, always full of surprises. I didn’t think they had it in them.” He gestured towards a chest that sat on the desk, cracking open the lid to release a warm red glow. “None of it matters. None of it. We have the Heart, Garramon. We have it. Everything we have worked towards, everything we have sacrificed for is here. Where is Rist? We leave for the Sea of Stone immediately.”

Fane took a step towards Garramon, a broad smile forming on his face. That smile slowly faded as he looked at Garramon. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“When were you going to tell me?” Garramon held Fane’s gaze.

“Tell you what, brother?”

“I should have seen it,” Garramon answered, shaking his head. “I did see it. But as you always have, you blinded me. Or I blinded myself to you. I do not know. I trusted you.”

“Garramon. What did you do?” Fane took another step closer, eyes wide. “Where is Rist?”

“Dead,” Garramon lied. Fane had always been able to tell when Garramon was lying, from the moment they had met. ButGarramon had to try. “He was killed when the kerathlin broke through. He and Magnus both.”

“I kept it from you because I know your heart,” Fane said, ignoring Garramon’s words. “You do not always see clearly when your heart is involved, and I know you care for the boy. But I also know that you understand the need for sacrifice. You always have. This isourpath, Garramon, and we will walk it together as we always have. We are so close.”

“Was there ever a word that left your lips that wasn’t a lie?” Garramon stopped in the chamber’s centre, cold water trickling down his face.

“A lie?” Fane answered. “You lie to yourself. You knew, Garramon. You always knew. Who trained him, knowing full well what he was? Who handed him those letters, knowing where they came from? You have known every step of the way. Why did you think I wanted him trained like an Arcarian? It wasn’t for the title, and you know that. Deep down you had to know why I took such an interest in Rist.”

“But this isn’t about me, Fane. I’m asking you, has anything that wasn’t a lie ever left your lips? Have we ever truly been friends, or am I just another tool for you to use and throw away? Am I just another necessity in this grand plan of yours?” Garramon looked to the window. “You preached the sacrifice of a few to save the many. You swore that you wanted to protect the people of Epheria, and now you are ready to leave while this city is torn apart? How many have died in this war, Fane? How many millions already? It will take thousands of years to recover. And all the while, you haven’t fought in a single battle. Not in a hundred years. You stayed hidden, searching for this damn Heart, sending others to die in your name. You preach that all great things require sacrifice, but what have you sacrificed?”

For a moment Garramon thought he saw genuine sadness in Fane’s eyes.

“I sacrificed Malyn… My son. My world. And you stood there with your hand on my back and your words in my ear, and you told me how noble I was, how honourable, how my sacrifice would be the difference. How it took the strongest of souls to make the hardest of choices. I lost Fulya… I gave everything to you, to this cause. And now you want Rist as well?” The rage that had been bubbling below the surface finally cracked through. “You cannot have him!”

Fane took a step closer, that glimpse of sadness vanishing from his eyes. “Where is he, Garramon?”

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