Page 98 of Of Empires and Dust

Just as Dahlen made to return to surveying the damages caused by the night’s Urak assault, Nimara’s voice rang out. “Dahlen!”

He turned to see Nimara sprinting towards him, the many rings in her hair glinting with fresh blood. “Fuck. Again?”

When Dahlen,Nimara, and Thannon reached the northern section of the wall, the place was a tinderbox waiting to ignite. At the centre of it all was Erdhardt Fellhammer.

The mountain of a man stood with a muddied sword in his hand, the tip of the blade pressed to Exarch Dorman’s neck. Erdhardt’s hammer rested in the mud beside him.

The other two surviving mages and a number of the infantry stood at the mage’s back, weapons gripped in their fists. Everything about the language of their bodies told Dahlen they were more than ready to spill blood.

A number of Illyanarans – along with some of those from Belduar – were positioned behind Erdhardt, the same tension in their bodies.

“Do it.” The Lorian Battlemage leaned forwards, pressing his neck against the steel. “Do it and see how this ends for you. I can guarantee it won’t end the way you think.”

Dahlen stormed through the gathered crowd. He shoved the first few men and women out of the way, the others parting before him, Nimara and Thannon moving at his back.

“Stand down!” he roared.

Exarch Dorman turned his head, but Erdhardt kept his eyes forward, staring at the man’s neck, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Dahlen stepped between the two, slapping Erdhardt’s blade down with one hand and pushing him backwards with the other. The man barely moved an inch, his stance so strong it was like he’d grown roots.

To Dahlen’s right, Dorman took a step forward. But Dahlen dropped his hand, snatched a knife from his belt in reverse grip, and pressed the steel to the man’s throat. “Take another fucking step and I promise you this will endexactlyhow you think it will.”

The mage glared at him, tensing, but stepped back. To his left, Erdhardt leaned forwards, pressing into Dahlen’s palm.

“That goes for you too,” he said to Erdhardt.

The stare Fellhammer gave him was calm and cold. He grunted and leaned back, tossing the sword into the mud.

All the while, Dahlen’s heart pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer. Dorman could end his life with a thought, and Erdhardt could likely snap him in two with little effort. Dahlen was sure he could take either of them with him to Achyron’s halls, but then he’d still be dead. And dying didn’t sound particularly appealing.

“Speak.” Dahlen lowered the knife, gesturing to Dorman. He could feel Erdhardt’s gaze weighing on him as he allowed the Lorian to speak first.

“They left us to die.” Exarch Dorman made to move closer to Erdhardt again, but one flick of the knife in Dahlen’s fist made him think better of it.

Dahlen narrowed his eyes, looking to Erdhardt and then back to Dorman.

Dorman continued. “We executed the agreed upon plan. But just as the Bloodmarked began their charge, this fucking prick pulled his forces out to the right and left us completely exposed. Six good men are dead. Six good men that should still be breathing. Six good men that will never see their children grow old.” His voice lowered to resemble a growl. “I will not stand for it.”

“The flank was collapsing.” Erdhardt gestured towards the section of wall that had been destroyed by the Uraks, dead bodies still pressed into the mud. “If I’d not called for the move, it would have fallen apart entirely. I wasn’t going to let my people die.”

“But you’ll let mine?”

“With a smile on my fucking face.”

Both men lunged for each other.

Dahlen held his ground, his feet squelching in the mud as he shoved Erdhardt and Dorman back. Both were taller than him by a head and broader, but they were off balance as they moved.

“What is wrong with you?” he roared, opening his body and turning, addressing the crowd as much as the two men. “We are limping. Every night, we lose more lives. Every night, we come closer to collapse. The Uraks don’t give a fuck. They don’t care if you are an Imperial Exarch or a fucking farmer.” He stared at Dorman, emphasising every word. “They. Do.” Dahlen switched his gaze to Erdhardt. “Not. Care. And if they get past us, ifthey get past these walls and into the homes beyond, it will be the children they will tear limb from limb. The elderly whose skin they’ll peel from their bones. The sick and the weak whose throats will be ripped open. I don’t care about anything else, but I will not let that happen.”

Dahlen stood in between Dorman and Erdhardt, casting his gaze around the crowd, studying the blank stares and open mouths.

“Whatever shit there is between you, bury it. We are not Lorian or Illyanaran here, we are just people trying to survive. We are the only thing that stands between Salme and ashes. When this is all done, tear each other to pieces for all I care, rip each other apart. But here, now, you pull your fucking shit together, and you stop acting like children. And if you can’t, we can give you enough food and water for two days and you can try your luck on the road east, because you’re nothing but a liability to every other soul defending these walls.”

He made a point of looking to Erdhardt as he said those last words.

“What will it be?”

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