Page 472 of Of Empires and Dust

“At once, my lord.” Just as the woman’s had, Vhorkel’s eyes shifted to a pure white.

Baird leaned closer. “I don’t like this.”

The snowfall grew heavier again, to the point that Alleron could barely see these new strangers through the wall of white.

“We all have choices to make, Alleron Helmund. Yours is simple – live or die.” The leader stepped closer. “I’m very sorry. This war is not yours to win.”

Screams sounded outside the walls, horrible shrieks. And then cries came from the ramparts: “Wyrms!”

Even as the shout rang out, a white-tipped hawk swept down through the barrage of snow and plunged its claws into a warrior’s face, shrieking a loud ‘kee-aah’ as it tore strips of flesh free.

The ground shook, and Alleron turned back towards the gates to see blue-scaled bodies wriggling through the snow. Two wyrms burst outwards and ripped towards a clutch of soldiers on the far side of the yard, more following.

“This is above us, Alleron.” Baird gripped Alleron’s shoulder. “There is strange magic here. Old magic. We must fall back and live to fight another day.” By the time Baird had spoken, ten more wyrms had burst from the snow to tear men and women apart.

“Listen to Baird,” the man called out through the snowfall. “Your path does not end here, but it can.”

Alleron stared back at the figures that were now little more than dark silhouettes through the blizzard. “Fuck…” About him, more and more wyrms emerged as though drawn by something. “We were so damn close.” He gripped the hilt of his axe. “Fall back!”

He looked to Baird and gave a sharp nod, the man echoing his cry.

“Fall back!”

Kaygan stoodwith his hands behind his back, staring out at the city of Arisfall before him. It had always amused him how much knowledge had been lost across the centuries. InTerroncia, the Cealtaí had built structures of polished stone so grand and beautiful it had quite often taken his breath away.

These people – these Drifaienin – had come from that place, his old homeland, their ancestry stretching back for thousands of mortal years. And yet now they built structures with stuck-together grey blocks, with rooves of thatch and battered shingles. There was no eloquence to it, no art. And everything was smaller, much smaller.

That was the way of things with mortals. When they warred, they killed so many of each other that ideas, moments of genius, knowledge passed down from generation to generation, were often lost.

As he stared out at the light snow dusting the rooves, he found himself mildly sorrowful at having to take Calen Bryer’s life. The Cealtaí and the Tuatha alike needed souls like him, souls with wills strong enough to break the bonds of the paths. But unfortunately, young Bryer’s will had proven too strong and the path he had been straying from was one that could not be altered. Regardless of the respect Kaygan had for the mortal, no one life could be placed above the path. The options were now limited, the margin for error thin as a hair. There were few paths without Calen Bryer that ended in anything but destruction.

He let out a long sigh and flicked his tongue against a sharp fang.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and Lothal Helmund stepped out onto the parapet beside Kaygan.

“Your son’s attempt on The Hearth has been dealt with,” Kaygan said without looking at Lothal. The man was a necessary evil. His heart was dark but extremely pliable, and Kaygan needed pliable hearts. “Can I assume you will clean up your own mess from here?”

“Whom do you think you’re speaking to? I’m not some child you can?—”

“Oh, but youarea child,” Kaygan said, cutting Lothal off and allowing his pupils to shift to black slits. “And Icanorder you about, and yes, Alleron is still alive, and no, I will not kill him for you. He is your son, clean his blood off your hands if you want it shed.”

Kaygan didn’t need to look to know Lothal glared at him – he’d already seen it.

“We have a deal, Lothal. I keep you in power. You do as I say. Has that changed? Please let me know if it has, and I can act accordingly.”

“No,” the man growled, the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“Well, our business is concluded then. I just wanted you to come out here and understand your position so that you would not do the stupid things I know you are planning.”

“I wouldn’t… I…”

“Calm yourself,” Kaygan whispered, shaking his head. “You have my trust. For now. Leave me. I wanted you to understand your situation. You do.”

Lothal Helmund may have been a drunk, but he was no fool. There were only a few paths on which he would ever cross Kaygan, and Kaygan had steered wide of each of those. So long as all remained untouched, the path would survive.

The man grunted and left, allowing both Boud and Una to step from the shadows.

They remained quiet for a moment until Boud finally plucked up the courage to ask the question Kaygan already knew she would ask.

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