Page 454 of Of Empires and Dust

It was Valerys’s roar that broke him free from his mind. The dragon was fury and loss, his roar shifting from clapping thunder to a hissing shriek. He swept his tail and smashed through the remnants of old houses, lifting char and dust into the air, shrieking and roaring.

The blue dragon, Varthear, shrieked back at him, but Valerys smashed his tail into her side and unleashed a torrent of fire over her.

The Dracurïn that had stood behind Tarmon drew their swords, and Valerys reduced them to ash. The roar that left his throat shook the earth itself, and Haem could feel the dragon’s pain tearing his own heart.

Valerys whipped his head around to Calen’s body, where Therin and Dann had dropped to their knees, screaming and shouting.

The dragon snapped his head forwards, jaws opening.

Haem leapt, his Sentinel armour pouring from his Sigil. He set himself between the dragon and Dann and Therin, slamming his gauntleted hands against Valerys’s snout.

The dragon roared, and Haem roared back, memories flooding through him. Memories of an egg cracking, of eyes looking up at a young man who held him. Memories of riding at the nape of a horse’s neck, of sleeping on Calen’s shoulders, of feeling the pain in Calen’s heart.

In that moment, Haem understood. Calen was everything to Valerys. He was his heart and his soul. He was his joy and his solace. And he was gone. He was dead, and Valerys was alone.

Haem gripped Valerys’s snout, forced his helmet to recede into his collar, and stared deep into the dragon’s lavender eyes. “We can save him. There’s a chance. We can save him… We have to try.”

Valerys stared back at him, talons carving into the earth, his breath like the heat of a forge. The dragon’s eyes were two pools of agony and rage. Valerys let out a low whine and rested his head on the ground.

Haem turned immediately and pushed Dann and Therin out of the way, ignoring their shouts. He scooped his hands beneath Calen’s lifeless body and carried him to Valerys.

Cradling Calen in one arm, Haem climbed atop the dragon’s back, his Sentinel armour granting him the strength. He laid Calen before him and leaned forwards, pressing himself as close to the dragon as he could and wrapping his hands around small horns that grew about the dragon’s scales.

Valerys roared and lifted into the air with such force Haem was almost ripped from his back.

Chapter 104

The Waters of Life

27thDay of the Blood Moon

Temple of Achyron – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

Kallinvar stoodin Brother Gildrick’s study. He had not allowed the Watchers to move a thing after Gildrick had been given the rites and laid to rest. He had searched every inch of the room, every book, every shelf, chest, drawer – everything. And still he’d found nothing.

Whatever book Gildrick had been reading before he died was lost to them. Tallia had likely burned it. But if it was a book worth burning, that meant it had something deeply important within its pages.

Gildrick’s voice rang in Kallinvar’s mind.“Well, I’ve known you all my life. If I didn’t have some idea what you were thinking, I wouldn’t be a very good Watcher.”

Those were the words Gildrick had spoken when he had given Kallinvar the chronicles of the Grandmasters written bythe Watchers. Perhaps if Kallinvar had paid half as much attention to Gildrick as Gildrick had to him, the man would still be alive. He tried not to dwell on the thought, but it was easier said than done. Outside, the rain had not ceased in days, thunder rumbling. He had asked Watcher Poldor and the others to speak to the people of Ardholm, to calm them and assuage their fears after the other night, but a tension still held in the air. The porters and servants in the temple stared at the ground as they passed him in the halls, and all conversations grew quiet whenever he approached.

Ruon and the other knights had reported similar. Kallinvar didn’t blame the people. The knights were meant to be their protectors, paragons of honour and strength. And the other night, the people had watched Kallinvar draw a sacred weapon against one of their own, a weapon of the gods. Wounds from broken trust were a long time in healing.

A commotion sounded outside the door, and Ruon came bursting through, Ildris and a number of Watchers with her.

“Arden is back.” Ruon didn’t need to say more. Kallinvar reached out, and he could feel the hollowness in Arden’s Sigil, the deep aching loss.

He pushed past the others and sprinted through the great halls of Achyron’s temple, following the pulse of Arden’s weeping Sigil.

Haem heldCalen’s body in the waters of Heraya’s Well. Clusters of bright light swarmed around him, shimmering amidst the dark water, pulling the pain from his body… but not his heart.

Where the luminescent clusters shifted and reacted to Haem’s movement, the water around Calen’s body was still and dark.

The colour had drained from his little brother’s face, and his lips were a pale blue. Haem brushed away a spot of dried blood from Calen’s cheek. Claps of thunder answered Valerys’s roars in the skies outside the temple. The dragon had shifted between pure rage and abject sorrow. As they had flown, he had set fire to entire forests, pouring flames from his jaws as they’d moved, roaring like the void itself had spilled open. And then he had been silent, drifting weakly on the air, dropping listlessly through the clouds.

And every movement of the dragon’s heart had matched Haem’s.

Haem wanted to scream and roar and cry, but his body did nothing. No tears came, no rage swept over him. Everything was just… still and empty.

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