Calen sat by the stream in the Eyrie, a few feet from where the water tumbled over the cliff. Dann, Therin, Vaeril, Tarmon, Haem, Lyrin, and Erik sat around him, talking in the firelight, while Valerys was curled up at Calen's back with his head resting on Ithrax's tail. The enormous green dragon did little more than eat, sleep, and fly. Even still, that was more than any of the other five Rakina dragons; most barely moved. In the past few months, Valerys had taken to following Ithrax like a shadow. It broke Calen's heart to feel Valerys's sorrow and the strange loneliness that filled him. Somehow finding the dragons as they were had left Valerys feeling even more alone than he previously had.
Calen pulled in a long breath through his nose, letting it out slowly as he lifted his arms. Having the master runes inscribed into his skin hadn't hurt as much as he'd anticipated, but they'd still pained him. Valdrin had tattooed the runes in four circles, two wrapped around each of Calen's forearms, just below the wrist. The ink was silvery in colour, glimmering when it caught the light.
He traced the index finger of his right hand along the first circle of runes on his left forearm, whispering the phrase Valdrin had taught him – words in the ancient Jotnar tongue, "Dreskyr mit huartan. Dreskr mit hnokle. Bante er vi, measter og osvarthe."
Protect my heart. Protect my bones. Bound are we, master and oath.
The runes ignited, glowing with a faint purple light, and Calen could feel his armour where it rested on the stand in his chambers.
"What does it feel like?" Calen lifted his head to see Vaeril looking at him, curiosity in his eyes. "I've seen rune marked weapons and tools before, but I've never seen anything like that."
Calen looked at his arms, staring at the runes that glowed with a dim purple light. "It's almost like the runes are alive. When I ignite them, I can feel the armour like it's a part of me – an extension of my body. It's difficult to describe."
"I'm just happy you didn't melt," Dann said with a shrug, shifting the white wood bow in his lap. Calen didn't think he'd seen Dann without the bow since Valdrin had given it to him.
"Really, Dann?" Haem gave Dann a disapproving look, shaking his head.
"What? Are you not happy he didn't melt?"
"Three years." Haem tilted his head, staring at Dann. "Three years and you haven't changed in the slightest. I don't even think you've gotten taller."
"Hey." Dann held a finger. "No need to bring height into it. I'm six foot, I'll have you know."
Haem raised his eyebrows, a knowing smile on his lips.
"Five foot and eleven inches at most," Erik said. "And I'm being generous."
"You know what?" Dann puffed out his bottom lip. "If you're going to give me this much abuse, I'm going to make you listen to my new valúr." Dann pulled a satchel up onto his lap, undid the buckles, and started rooting around inside.
"New valúr? What happened to the carvings?" Erik looked to Therin and Vaeril. "Can he do that? I mean, can you just switch?"
Therin shrugged. "It's not usually done that way, but there's no rule. The concept is more about the understanding of what it takes to create something before you learn to destroy. Although, I'm not going to lie, my interest is piqued."
Dann stopped rummaging, pulling sheets of paper from within the satchel. "I was shit at those sculptures. Baldon told me so more than once – I think, in his own way, he was trying to encourage me? But that Angan is brutally honest." He waved a folded piece of paper in the air. "But I've found something I'm better at."
"I honestly thought your sculpture of Vaeril was fantastic." Tarmon looked to Vaeril, a smile sweeping across his face from ear to ear. "I keep it in my satchel in the room and take it out any time I want to laugh."
Vaeril glared at Tarmon.
Calen scratched at the stubble on his chin, eyeing the paper in Dann's hand. "I think you might be missing the point of a valúr, Dann. The idea isn't to find something you're good at, it's about dedicating yourself to something and appreciating the time and effort it takes to truly create something."
"Yeah…" Dann scrunched his mouth, pondering. He shook his head. "No, that doesn't sound right." Dann unfolded the piece of paper and held it out in front of him. He cracked his neck from side to side, then drew in a long, slow breath, letting it out in an overly dramatic fashion. "I call this one 'You might ride a dragon, but I'm still better.' Agh-hem."
"You may be tall, you may be strong
You may ride a dragon, be sung in song.
You may wield a sword, I'll give you that,
But when you last shot a bow, you killed a cat."
The echoes of Dann's last word faded, and the group sat in silence for a moment before both Dann and Calen burst out laughing. Calen laughed so hard tears rolled down his cheeks, and his stomach hurt. But as the laughter subsided, he looked to see that it was only he and Dann who had been laughing. Everyone else – Haem, Tarmon, Erik, Therin and Vaeril – just stared at the both of them as though they were mad.
"He…" Dann straightened, drawing a settling breath in through his nose, only to start laughing again. "Calen…" Dann exhaled sharply, composing himself. "Calen is terrible with a bow and arrow. Now, I don't mean when someone says they're terrible and they're actually quite good. You know like how Tarmon said he was a terrible singer and then we got him drunk two weeks ago, and he had a voice like a six-foot-five nightingale? No, not like that. Calen is the worst archer I've ever seen in my life."
"All right, Dann." Calen said, raising his hands "Try not to stick the knife in too deep."
"Sorry." Another laugh caught in Dann's throat. "But it's true. Anyway, one time when Rist and I were poking fun at Calen, he started complaining about the size of the target and how far it was. So we bet him he couldn't hit a barn door. He did that thing he does when he's challenged and got all grumpy, put a face on, puffed his chest out, and stomped over to the barn. And then he pulled back the string and loosed the arrow. Not only did the arrow soar past the left side of the barn – never mind the door – it flew into a nearby bush. All we heard was a screech. He'd hit a fucking cat. The only time he'd ever hit anything was by accident." Dann started laughing again, pressing his hand to his stomach. "He missed a literal barn door."
The others all exchanged glances.
"That's not funny," Vaeril said, his expression unchanging. "That's horrible."
Therin pursed his lips. "Even for you, that one's a bit strange."
"I mean…" Dann drew in a short breath, lifting a finger. He closed his hand into a fist and pressed it to his lips. "Well… All right, out of context like that, it's not as funny as it was at the time. I think you had to be there."
"Yeah…" Erik nodded, laughing. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pimm."
Tarmon shrugged. "I mean… your rhyming couplets were strong, at least."
All eyes turned to Tarmon, and everyone, including Vaeril, erupted in laughter.
"What?" Tarmon looked about nervously. "What did I say?"
Erik shook his head, pushing back his laugh. "It's just… do you write poetry, Tarmon?"
"I've tried my hand, what about it? Everyone needs a way to relax."
"It's just the idea of a big man like you writing poems. You look as though you could crush a skull with your bare hands. Now I can't shake the image of you hunched over a small table with a pen in hand writing the sweetest love poems the world has ever seen. You're full of surprises, Tarmon Hoard." Erik leaned closer to Tarmon, tilting his head and batting his eyelashes. He put on a sultry voice. "Would you write a love poem for me, Lord Captain?"
"Oh, fuck off!" Tarmon pushed Erik onto his back, but Erik just laughed, the others joining in.
Calen allowed himself a laugh as well, but his mind kept drifting. In four days, the High Lord of Illyanara, Castor Kai, was to come to Aravell. Due to an increase in Lorian forces in the South, the High Lord was travelling by side-road with little more than a few guards. Aeson, Chora, and the others wanted Calen to fly out on Valerys to meet Castor Kai at the front gates of the city; they wanted him to put on a show. But the thought of doing such a thing for Castor Kai turned Calen's stomach after the story Therin had told of what the man had done with Vars and the Angan.
Even with those thoughts pushed to the back of his mind, Calen was restless. According to Grandmaster Kallinvar, the Blood Moon – the same thing that had aided in the destruction of The Order – was only a matter of days or weeks away. Calen and the others had agreed to aid the knights in whatever was to come. But even with everything Calen had learned from Chora, Harken, Thacia, Atara, and the other Rakina, he couldn't fight the doubts in his mind. Each of them had been Draleid for decades or centuries before The Fall. There had been thousands of them, and still they had failed. What chance did Calen have against the empire and the Dragonguard, against Efialtír himself?
He'd tried to push Atara's words to the darkest corners of his mind, but still, they plagued him. 'The Dragonguard will tear you apart, Calen. Piece by piece. They have killed hundreds of our kind. Draleid far older and wiser than you.'
A warning from Valerys flashed in Calen's mind, and the dragon shifted. As their minds pulled together, Calen could see Baldon approaching through Valerys's eyes. Calen turned, and as he did, Baldon placed his right palm over his forehead, nodding to both Calen and Haem. "Sons of the Chainbreaker, Therin Silverfang. You are needed immediately."
Calen groaned as he heaved himself to a standing position, his muscles aching from the non-stop training. "What is it, Baldon? What's wrong?"
The Angan pulled his hand away from his forehead. "Aneera has reached out to me. The daughter of the Chainbreaker is at the western gates."
Ella stood at the edge of an enormous white stone courtyard, Farda, Ilyain, and Hala to her left, Tanner and Yana at her right. The Darkwood rose at Ella's back while before her, across the courtyard, city walls spread left and right, blending seamlessly into the cliffs on either side. The walls were split by gates that looked as though they had been hewn from the bones of a giant stag, their tips like antlers twisting upwards. And, as though everything wasn't already surreal enough, veins of soft azure light wound through the stone of the courtyard and the walls, painting the scene in an ethereal light. She remembered a time she almost let herself be run over by a cart when staring up at the white towers of Midhaven. How insignificant they seemed now.
Faenir brushed against Ella's side, his ears pricked as he stared at the two Angan who stood before them – Ella had recognised them from Ilyain's descriptions. Over the course of their journey through Loria to Catagan and then around the western and southern coasts of Epheria by ship, Ilyain had spent many hours teaching Ella as much of the Angan and the druids as he knew. Each word he'd spoken had been like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Each detail he'd shared of Andras had helped her to better understand small fragments of herself and to better understand what she was.
The first of the two Angan, who had said his name was Gavrien, stood only a few feet in front of Ella. He was covered in short white fur. His legs were double hinged, he had hooves instead of feet, and black antlers laced with gold grew from his head. From what Ilyain had taught her, Gavrien was of Clan Dvalin – the clan of the stag.
It was Gavrien who had found them wandering the outer reaches of the Darkwood. Once Ella had told him that Calen was her brother, he'd brought them straight to Aneera, who was clearly of Clan Fenryr – the god to which Ilyain believed Ella was tied. Her grey fur was thicker and rougher than Gavrien's, and her nails looked more akin to claws. Her face was harsh, and her teeth were sharp like a wolf's. Aneera sat on the ground with her legs crossed and her eyes closed.
Just as Ella had heard and felt the message sent across Loria, so too could she feel the one Aneera was now sending. Her fingers curled inwards, and a high-pitched noise pierced her ears. She drew in slow breaths, trying to focus. Images of a giant wolf wrapped in chains flashed through her mind. The chains snapped and were replaced by three children standing beneath a tree, broken links at their feet. She understood the intention of the message. Come. Unite. Pack. There was more; she could feel it, but she couldn't understand it. It was as though Ella was only seeing fragments of the whole message.
"How long does this take?" Hala asked, her voice wrought with impatience. That was one thing Ella had learned about the woman whilst travelling on the ship: for someone who had seen as many summers as Hala, she had as much patience as a four-year-old child and a temperament to match.
"It takes as long as it takes." Farda stood with the hood of his black mantle drawn up over his head. "Do not wish for this journey to end so quickly, Hala."
"You never know," Hala answered back. "Maybe they'll welcome us back as prodigal siblings."
"I think they will sooner hang us from the city gates." Ilyain's tone was flat and level, as it always tended to be.
The three of them had talked that way for most of the last leg of the journey. It made no sense to Ella. If they knew that coming here would mean the end of them, then why had they come? She had asked them to leave her at Kingspass, to let her and Faenir make the last leg of the journey alone. Ilyain and Hala had contemplated it, but Farda had flat out refused. In the end, Ilyain and Hala had committed themselves to going where Farda went.
Aneera let out a low rumble as she opened her eyes and stood. She bowed her head to Ella, leaning back on her left leg. "Baldon Stormseeker has informed the sons of the Chainbreaker that you are here."
The Angan's voice sounded unnatural; she paused on each word as though pondering it, a distinct gruffness painting every syllable. Wait, sons?Ella was about to ask Aneera what she meant when the Angan pressed the palm of her right hand to her forehead – Ilyain had told Ella the gesture was a sign of respect amongst the Angan clans. "Please, daughter of the Chainbreaker, I must ask your forgiveness, for myself and for all of clan Fenryr. Had we known you yet lived, we would have come for you."
Ella wasn't sure what to say. She had no idea why Aneera kept referring to her and Calen as the son and daughter of the Chainbreaker. What did their dad have to do with any of this?
"I'm sorry." Ella looked into Aneera's golden eyes. "I don't know what you mean. You don't need forgiveness for anything. I've never met you before."
"No. We have not before met, daughter of the Chainbreaker. But there is much you do not know. Therin Silverfang will explain. I am sorry we were not there for you, as we should have been. Though it warms my heart to see the Blessed One has kept you safe." Aneera bowed to Faenir, a low growl resonating in her throat. She reached out her hand, and to Ella's surprise Faenir nuzzled against her with the familiarity of a cub and his mother.
Aneera's golden eyes shimmered as she stared into Faenir's, then looked back to Ella. "And you are of the warrior blood, a guardian of Fenryr, an Aldruid. I can feel it in you." Aneera's mouth twisted into a grin that revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth, two fangs protruding from the top and bottom. "Today is a day of celebration."
Ella didn't know what to say. Aneera was speaking as though she knew more about Ella than Ella did herself. She was about to speak when the Dvalin Angan, Gavrien, turned his antlered head towards the gates.
"They come."
As Gavrien spoke, Ella's jaw dropped, her eyes widening. A dragon covered in gleaming white scales soared over the walls. It looked smaller than the ones she had seen with the imperial armies, but it was far closer than they had ever been. The creature's body was enormous. Its wings, spread wide like the sails of a ship, were a pale white with veins of black running through them. Its neck was long and muscular, horns the length of her arms framed its jaw and the side of its face, while its talons looked as though they could tear a horse in half with ease.
The creature swept over the courtyard, appearing larger the closer it got.
Ella's heart stopped as something – no, someone – fell from the dragon's back. Calen? Ella took a step forward, then broke into a run, watching as her brother plummeted towards the ground. Panic jolted through her. Her body shook as she ran, Faenir bounding beside her. She screamed so loudly her voice cracked "Calen!"
As the figure approached the ground, they slowed, a gust of wind sweeping around them. The instant their feet touched the white stone of the courtyard, they broke into a run, the dragon alighting behind them.
How is that possible? The questions were swept from Ella's mind as the figure looked up, and she saw her little brother's face looking back at her. She kept running. "Calen!"
Calen crashed into her so hard he nearly knocked her off her feet. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed as though he was trying to push the air from her lungs. "You're alive." He buried his head in the crook of her neck, and she felt the wet touch of tears. "Ella."
Ella pulled him in even tighter. "Of course I'm alive."
As though she hadn't spoken, Calen kept saying the same thing. "You're alive."
Ella gripped the back of Calen's shirt, hugging him so tightly she was worried he might break. Then she pulled away, clasping her hands either side of his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"I thought you were dead. That day… I thought you were in the house when it caught fire."
Ella's breath caught in her chest. Was that how they died?
"I'm here." Ella pulled Calen close, stroking the back of his head, her fingers running through his hair. He trembled against her. He was bigger than the last time she'd seen him – his shoulders were broader, his muscles denser. His face had changed too; it looked harder, colder. But with it all, the biggest change was the way he hugged her. He'd never hugged her like that before, as though he'd never let go. Tears burned in Ella's eyes as she pulled her brother even tighter, pulling his head to her shoulder. "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."
A low growl sounded to the right. Ella pulled away, wiping a tear from Calen's cheek. "I'm not the only one who's here."
"No… Faen—"
Calen had almost finished saying Faenir's name before the wolfpine crashed into his chest and tackled him to the ground. Ella smiled as she watched Faenir roll around the stone with Calen, licking her brother's face like he'd done since he was a pup.
"Hello, little sister."
Ella's body seized, her muscles tensing. Her blood went cold in her veins. She didn't want to lift her head. That voice… it can't be. She drew in a long breath, then looked.
Ella's heart thumped and fluttered at the same time, her stomach turned, and her legs gave way. She dropped to the ground, trembling, tears in freefall as she looked up at a face she had known she would never see again. "No…" Ella shook her head, her vision blurring from the tears. "It's not possible… It can't be you. It can't."
Haem reached down and slid his arms around Ella, lifting her gently. She trembled as he held her, her legs struggling to hold her own weight. Haem looked her in the eyes. "It is."
He pulled her into a tight embrace and she broke. She sobbed and convulsed, burying her head against her brother's shoulder, shaking it back and forth. "It can't be you… Please, please don't let this be a trick."
"It's not a trick," Haem whispered as he held her, his arms wrapping around her with ease, his hand holding the back of her head as she had just held Calen's.
Ella sniffled and sobbed, tears mixing with snot as she pulled her head away, looking up at her brother's face. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "Haem?"
Haem nodded, a weak smile touching his lips, and that was all it took for Ella to break down again. She stayed like that, crying in his arms for what felt like an eternity, and he held her. Once she'd managed to stop the tears, she leaned back to see Haem smiling down at her – she'd forgotten how tall he was. Only one question filled her mind. "How?"
Haem pulled his hand from her back and brushed a tear from cheek. "That is an answer that will require some time. Once we get inside, we can have some mead and sit by a fire. I'll tell you everything."
Ella tried to muster a smile as she sniffed through her now blocked nose. "They have mead?"
Haem laughed, pulling Ella into one more hug. "Lower your expectations."
He gave her one last squeeze, then stepped back, looking at where Calen was still trying — and failing — to push Faenir away. "That… that can't be Faenir?"
"It's Faenir." Ella wiped the tears and snots from her face with the back of her hand, then rubbed them into her trousers; the trousers needed a wash anyway.
"He's almost as big as a horse."
"There's a lot I have to tell, too." Ella stared at Haem, tracing every line of his face, ever wrinkle and crease. In case that portal, or barrier, or whatever they had stepped through to reveal this place was manipulating her mind. It felt real. It looked real. But even if it was some illusion, she didn't care; she had gotten to see her brother one last time. That was everything.
"All right. That's enough, Faenir." Calen laughed, which only encouraged Faenir even more.
After a moment, the wolfpine allowed Calen to get to his feet. The sense of elation – the sense of pack, of family – that flashed from Faenir's mind to Ella's made her heart glow. Pure, unfettered happiness blazed within him, and that joy only grew greater when Faenir turned to see Haem.
Even Haem with all his bulk and muscle couldn't stay upright as Faenir tackled him to the stone.
"I can't believe it's you." Ella turned to see Calen staring into her eyes. It was only then she realised the green of his irises was gone, supplanted by a pale lavender.
"It's me." A soft smile rested on Ella's lips as she looked at her little brother – though, little didn't quite apply anymore. "You've grown." She touched his cheek, looking at his eyes. "Changed."
Calen lifted his hand to his face and rested it atop Ella's. "So have you." He leaned in a bit closer. "You've hit your nose a few times." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the scar the Urak claw had left on the side of her head. He reached up to touch the mark. "And what in the gods happened there?"
"I think you'll find somebody else hit my nose." Ella pulled away, frowning.
A deep, visceral growl rose beside Ella, and she could feel Faenir's hackles rising. Ella turned to see the white dragon standing before her. Up close, it was enormous. Its shoulders were three times as broad as a horse's, and its jaws looked as though they could rip through Faenir in a single bite.
The dragon leaned its head down, scaled nostrils flaring. It regarded her with pale lavender eyes that gleamed with intelligence. In a sense, the dragon looked almost regal, while at the same time seeming as though it was a creature of complete and utter destruction.
"Ella, this is Valerys."
The dragon snorted a puff of warm air over Ella, blowing her hair up and back.
Ella extended her open hand, and Valerys pressed the tip of his snout against her palm. His scales were cool to the touch at first, but then a warmth radiated from them. They felt as hard as stone. "He's incredible…"
In all the things she had seen since leaving The Glade – the Uraks, the Angan, mages, armies of elves – Ella had never seen anything quite like Valerys. A dragon. A true, living, breathing dragon.
"He is." Calen stared at the dragon with pride. He gave a soft smile, then looked to Faenir, who had moved from Haem and was drawing ever closer to Valerys, hackles raised, a deep growl rumbling in his throat. "I don't think Faenir is so sure."
Valerys's eyes shifted to Faenir, and he brought his snout down just in front of the prowling wolfpine. Even with how large Faenir had grown, he looked like a pup next to the dragon. The two creatures watched each other, both waiting for the other to make a move. Ella could feel Faenir's apprehension. This was a creature he knew could kill him with as little effort as Faenir might kill a mouse, and yet the wolfpine would stand between Ella and the dragon without a moment's pause.
"Does this remind anyone of the time Faenir stared down the horse when he was only a pup?" Haem folded his arms, smiling as he watched Faenir and Valerys.
"I don't think this is going to end the same way," Calen said, folding his arms the same way Haem had. "Valerys doesn't scare as easily as a horse."
Valerys leaned his head forwards and nudged Faenir in the side with his snout, which only elicited a deeper growl from the wolfpine. Calen and Haem burst out laughing as the wolfpine almost leapt from his fur when Valerys blew a puff of hot air over him.
Ella just stood there for a moment, watching her brothers as they watched Faenir and Valerys. Tears once again burned at the corners of her eyes, while a smile curled on her lips. She could have stood there forever in that perfect moment, and she would have if she hadn't seen figures emerging from the city gates. A group of seven. She looked to Calen. "Who's that?"
"Friends," Calen said with a wry smile.
As the group drew closer, Ella could make out faces. One was an Angan of clan Fenryr. Another was as tall as Haem, with shoulders to match. But then she saw someone else. "Calen, is that…"
"Ella Bryer." The smile on Dann Pimm's face spread from ear to ear. Ella saw the glint in his eye that always meant he was about to say something stupid. "Finally missed me too much to stay away?"
Yup. Stupid. Ella shook her head and laughed. Pulling Dann into a warm hug. He was a menace, always had been. Not a word popped into his head that didn't leave his mouth. When they had all been younger, Ella's mam, Ylinda Pimm, and Elia Havel had always asked Ella and Haem to watch over Calen, Rist, and Dann. Even then, Dann had been a pain. But he had always looked out for Calen – always. And Ella loved him for that. "It's good to see you too, Dann."
The strength of Dann's embrace took Ella a bit by surprise. But then he pulled away, looked at her and said, "Gods, that nose has seen better days."
"You want one to match?"
"Easy, easy." Dann raised his open hands defensively. "I was only saying."
Ella shook her head at Dann, then looked past him to see a face she truly had not expected. "Therin?"
The elf gave Ella a weak smile. She'd only talked to him once or twice before, but she'd sat in awe and listened to his stories more times than she could count. To her surprise, Therin pulled her into a hug. It wasn't as warm an embrace as Calen, Haem, or Dann had given her, but she hadn't expected any embrace at all from the elf.
"It's good to see you are well."
There was something about the way Therin looked at her that scratched at Ella. His words were genuine, but there was something else – a sadness.
"Ella," Calen moved over to join Ella, Therin, and Dann, the other newcomers standing a few feet back. Calen looked at her as though seeing a ghost – which she supposed he was. He shook his head, smiling. "I still can't believe you're here. I have so many questions. What happened? How did you get here? Who is with you?"
"I think Haem's suggestion…" Ella let her gaze linger on Haem for a second. She was waiting for this illusion to drop, for him to vanish. But he was still there, scratching Faenir's head. "Sorry," she said to Calen, gathering herself. "I think Haem's suggestion of a warm fire and a mead would go down well if we're to tell stories. We've been a long time travelling." Ella gestured to Yana, Tanner, Farda, Ilyain, and Hala, who stood twenty or so feet back where she'd left them when she'd run to Calen. "We sent a letter to Aeson Virandr. Months ago. We sent it to his contact in Argona. I thought he would have gotten it while we were travelling. Coren said you would be with him. Is he here?"
Calen looked from Ella to Therin. "He is here, but we never got a letter…" Calen's voice trailed off as he stared at Therin. The elf was looking at the ground. Something shifted in Calen's expression, and Ella thought she saw a glow emanating from his eyes. Behind him, Valerys pulled away from Faenir, fixing his stare on Therin and Calen. "Therin, we got letters from Arem months ago. I remember. Aeson got a letter from Dahlen telling us what had happened in Durakdur. And we've gotten plenty since."
Therin nodded slowly. "He did, and we have…"
Calen's jaw tensed, and Ella could see an anger in him. It wasn't the petulant anger of the boy she'd known; there was a harshness in this anger, a violence. Calen had always been quick to anger, but at heart he was a sweet boy. Ella saw none of that sweetness now. "Therin, what are you not saying?"
The elf sucked at the sides of his cheeks, then lifted his gaze to meet Calen's. "I'm sorry, Calen."
Ella took a step back as Calen's eyes radiated a deep purple light, wisps of luminescent mist rising into the air. What in the gods? Valerys had moved so he stood over Calen, a low rumble in his throat. Calen took a step closer to Therin; his entire demeanour had shifted in a matter of moments. His voice was sharp, his body taut. "Sorry for what, Therin?"
Haem looked to Ella, worry in his eyes.
Therin swallowed hard, but held Calen's gaze. "After you went north in search of Rist… when we got the letter, we decided not to tell you. If you went after her, Calen, the Dragonguard would have ripped you to shreds. I… I'm sorry. We thought it best to wait and bring her to you when it was safe. I didn't want to keep it from you… I'm sorry, Calen."
Calen stared at Therin, his eyes glowing. Valerys mirrored Calen, looming over him, lips pulling back to show rows of razor-sharp teeth. "You knew Ella was alive." There was something cold in Calen's voice that set Ella's hairs on end. "You knew she was alive, and you let me think she was dead." A tremble set into Calen's words, and a single tear rolled down his cheek, glistening in the purple light of his eyes. "What gave you the right? What if she had died, Therin?"
"I…"
Calen moved so his face was only inches from Therin's. "What if she had died?" The muscles in his jaw tensed, his hands curling into fists at his side. "I trusted you. Aeson has always been trying to tie strings around me. But you… you, I trusted." A short silence followed, before Calen's voice dropped to a deep growl. "Where is he?"
"Calen, don't. It will only—"
"Where is he?" Calen roared, his voice blending with the primal thunder that erupted from Valerys's jaws. Together, their roars shook the air.
Therin stared back at Calen but didn't speak. The sorrow and guilt in the elf's eyes was all-consuming.
Another young man, who had come with Dann from the city, stepped forwards. His hair was dark blond, and he was built like a soldier, the pommels of two swords jutting over his shoulders. "Calen, breathe. All right. Don't let him twist you like this."
Calen turned his head. "No, Erik. This time he's gone too far." He looked to the Angan who stood beside Erik. "Baldon, where is Aeson Virandr?"
Aeson stood in the main chamber of Mythníril, his arms folded and his back to the doors. He looked over the white stone table at the centre of the space, the moonlight drifting in from the oculus overhead augmenting the soft glow of the erinian stone that marked the cities and provinces of the map carved into the table.
He'd been there for hours as the Triarchy and the Ephorí argued back and forth over how many warriors each of the kingdoms would contribute for the welcome ceremony when Castor Kai arrived in four days. He'd spent so long away from Aravell he'd forgotten what the elven rulers were truly like.
Two of the knights – Ildris and Sister-Captain Ruon – stood on the opposite side of the table, rows of arched windows set into the wall behind them. Kallinvar wanted the knights to be part of the welcome for each of the major leaders, and so Ruon and Ildris had been asked to join the discussions. Ildris's expression hadn't changed even once, but Aeson could see the ever-growing frustration on Ruon's face. In the short time he'd known her, he'd learned she was not the kind of person who abided needless back and forth.
"What of those pledged to the Draleid?" Thurivîr looked to Aeson, his silvery hair sitting still against his crimson and gold robes.
"What of them?" Aeson said with a sigh, trying his best to conceal his frustration.
"We must have equal representation from the three kingdoms. All three have gifted him oathbound warriors. I would say two hundred from each kingdom should be on display. And then an equal number of humans. Lunithír has granted the young smith, Valdrin, fifty-three of our own smiths to aid in the production of the new armour."
"Ardurän has provided fifty-five smiths," Baralas added.
"What the fuck does it matter?"
Gasps spread through the gathered Ephorí at Ruon's outburst. The woman stood in her smooth green Sentinel armour, her hands outstretched before her. The only two people in the room who hadn't been shocked were the other knight– Ildris – and Queen Uthrían, who stood with her mouth twisted into a grin.
The two kings, Silmiryn and Galdra stared at Ruon, a picture of shock and irritation evident in their expressions. Even they knew better than to think they held any sway over a knight of Achyron.
"Sister-Captain Ruon." The second Ardurän Ephori, Liritháin, took a step closer to Ruon but instead, found herself staring up at the broad-shouldered frame of Ildris. The man had a cold intensity about him. It looked as though Liritháin were about to challenge him, but a loud crash sounded in the hallway outside.
Aeson turned towards the door, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up as he felt the sensation of someone drawing from the Spark. Around him, he saw the Ephorí and the elven rulers all exchange glances.
"Step aside."
Aeson recognised Calen's voice as it boomed in the hallway. A few seconds passed, and then the doors to the main chamber swung open with such force they cracked against the walls. The six elven guards stood to either side, their eyes fixed on Calen as he strode into the chamber towards Aeson. A roar rolled through the night sky outside.
The young man's eyes glowed with a purple light that misted outwards, trailing after him as he moved. Calen stared at Aeson, his gaze unwavering. Aeson could feel the fury in him. Waves of energy pulsed from Calen, rippling outwards, his body thrumming with the Spark.
"Calen, what's wrong?"
"You knew she was alive." Calen rammed his hands into Aeson's chest. The Spark-augmented strike sent Aeson careening backwards. He slammed into the stone table, the air fleeing his lungs.
Fury rising within him, Aeson heaved himself upright. He opened himself to the Spark, pulling at threads of Air. "How dare you—" Aeson cut his sentence short. The Spark was gone. Calen had warded him.
"How dare I?" Calen roared. He moved so he stood only inches from Aeson, nostrils flaring, chest heaving. "You let me believe my sister was dead so I would play along with your games. All I've ever been to you is a puppet. Was any of what you said to me true?" Calen shook his head, a wicked smile on his lips. "I can't believe I let you twist me. I fucking trusted you!"
Aeson stared into the pulsating light of Calen's eyes. There was nothing he could say. Therin must have told Calen. Aeson hadn't wanted to keep the news of Ella from Calen, but he'd had no choice. Calen had already proven that he was reckless when the people he loved were in danger. If Aeson had told him Ella was alive, Calen would have flown right into the Dragonguard's hands. But even that knowledge didn't scrub the guilt that marred Aeson's heart as he looked back at Calen.
"I'm done with you, Aeson. I'll fight because there are people who need me. But I'm done being your puppet." Calen's voice was level, but an icy rage radiated from him. He'd always been quick to temper, but Aeson knew this – this was a dragon's fury. "I hate you for proving Artim Valdock right."
Calen stared at Aeson for a moment longer, then walked around the stone table, ignoring everyone else. He strode past Ruon and Ildris and over towards the arched windows.
"Calen. Stop. Where are you going? You can't go after her."
"To try and find the truth," Calen called back. He stopped at one of the arched windows. "Tell Ella I'm sorry, and I'll be back in a few days."
She's here.
"Calen! Where are you going? Don't be an idiot!"
Without another word, Calen jumped from the window ledge, threads of Air whirling around him, and Valerys's roar tore through the sky.
Aeson stood on the bridge that joined Alura to the rest of the city. The flames of the lanterns set along the parapet cast flickering shadows over the stone. He drew in a slow, level breath, watching as Therin and the others approached.
"I had to, Aeson."
Aeson could see the weight of the guilt in Therin's eyes. He'd never wanted to put Therin in that position. It would have been so much easier if it had been him and not Therin who'd picked up that letter. Aeson had no problem with Calen hating him as long as Calen was alive; he could bear that burden. "It's all right. I understand."
"Where is he?"
"Gone. I don't know where. He said he'll be back in a few days."
As Therin started to speak, Calen's brother, Arden, pushed past him. Liquid metal poured from his chest and swept over his body, rolling across his arms and legs, forming into Sentinel armour. Aeson barely had time to react before the man rammed his fists into Aeson's chest, then grasped Aeson's shirt with both hands. Arden lifted him into the air with the ease of a man lifting a child and slammed him against the parapet of the bridge. Aeson grimaced and gasped for air as a piercing pain erupted through his back, and the air was knocked from his lungs. He reached for the Spark, but as he did, Arden tightened his armoured fists around Aeson's shirt.
"Try it. I'll break your neck before any of that magic leaves your body." Since Calen's brother had emerged with Calen from the Burnt Lands, all Aeson had seen him be was calm and measured. But then, as Arden held Aeson aloft, all he saw in the man's eyes was pure hatred. "If you ever think about lying to my brother again, about using him, or twisting him, or manipulating him, I will break you." Arden's grasp tightened again. His stare was unyielding. "Do you understand?"
Aeson stared back at the man, meeting his gaze. The pain in his back burned up his spine and down through his legs, but he kept his face steady.
Arden pulled his face closer. "I don't think you understand. I don't care who you are. I don't care what your name is. The only people who matter to me in this world are the one you just hurt, and the one you were happy to leave for dead. I need you to listen to me very carefully. I will fucking kill you. I will ram my Soulblade through your cold, black heart." Arden moved his head closer. "Do you fucking understand now?"
There, on that bridge, was the first time in a very long time that Aeson felt fear in his heart. The look in Arden's eyes was not that of a man who was making an idle threat. Aeson didn't fear death; death was inevitable. But if his life was taken by a Soulblade, he would never feel the touch of Lyara's mind again.
"I'm going to need you to speak." A tremble slipped through Arden's level tone.
"I understand."
Arden let out a sigh through his nostrils, nodding slowly. "Good." The knight lowered Aeson to the stone, staring into his eyes. "Don't come near my sister."
With that, Arden walked past Aeson as though nothing had happened.
Aeson let out a sharp breath, his heart pounding.
"There's something else," Therin said, barely giving Aeson a chance to catch his breath. The elf's expression was a sombre one. He gestured behind him to where Tarmon, Erik, Vaeril, Baldon, and Aneera stood. Beside them was a young woman with golden hair and a wolf that was almost the size of a horse. He had no doubt the woman was Ella. She stared at Aeson with an unwavering intensity. Beside her, the wolf's hackles lifted, and a his nose crinkled into a snarl, revealing his fangs.
But it wasn't Ella who Therin had gestured to. Beside her stood a man and a woman side by side, along with three others, their hoods drawn.
Aeson recognised the man Immediately. "Tanner."
"Aeson." Tanner nodded. Aeson saw the disappointment etched into the man's face.
One of the three hooded figures let out a sigh. "Better to get this over with."
A fury swelled within Aeson's chest as the figure drew down their hood, and Aeson's gaze fell on the face of Farda Kyrana.