Rumbling in Valerys's chest woke Calen from his slumber; he'd not had the chance to sleep much since leaving Aravell. He peeled his eyes open at the feeling of urgency that spilled over from the dragon. "What is it?"
In his daze, Calen looked down from Valerys's back to see the mountains of Lodhar blending into the green ocean of woodland that was the Darkwood. He still couldn't get used to the red haze of the Blood Moon that painted the world. "We're back. Good."
Another flash of urgency filled the dragon's mind, and it took Calen a moment to realise it wasn't the mountains or the woodland that Valerys had been looking at. Far in the distance, past the Darkwood, a great fire burned, flames blazing, dark smoke pluming into the air. "What is that? Surely that can't be Argona…"
Calen's pulse quickened at the thought. "Faster, Valerys. We need to get to Aravell."
Before Valerys could react to the words, a roar thundered through the sky, answered by a second, and then a third. In the distance, three figures emerged from within the cover of the woodland. The figures soared through the air, flying towards the flames in the distance, then swept back around. A moment passed and the world seemed to grow still before all three dragons unleashed columns of fire down over the Darkwood.
"Dive!"
Valerys folded his wings and plummeted towards the mountains. Just as he dropped into the mountains' cover, he unfurled his wings and surged forwards. With the shock of what he had just seen and the weariness from travel, Calen had forgotten to adjust his body position to Valerys's movements and was nearly torn from the dragon's back. The intrinsic magic that moulded Valerys's scales to Calen's presence could only do so much.
Calen's heart pounded like a galloping horse, his chest fluttering. He pushed the panic down and tried to settle himself. "Did they see us? No, I don't think so."
He drew in a long breath, panting, then leaned forwards, pressing his hands against Valerys's scales. Without a word between them, Valerys cracked his wings and broke into a speed that pulled Calen backwards. The dragon tore through the valleys of the Lodhar Mountains like an bolt of lightning, angling himself to best use the currents of air as Chora had taught them. It wasn't long before they had traded mountains around them for the forest canopy. Looking ahead to the right, Calen could still see the three dragons rising high, circling, then turning and unleashing rivers of dragonfire down into the forest. They're carving a path towards Aravell. How do they know?Calen had no idea in which direction he and Valerys needed to fly. Finding Aravell behind the glamour hadn't been something he'd accounted for when he'd left. Forward thinking had always been one of Rist's strengths, not his. But Valerys streaked over the woodland, not hesitating for even a moment. The dragon flew as low as he could without crashing down into the forest below. After a while, a warning flashed in Calen's mind, and he shifted his weight as Valerys banked left, then angled his wings and swooped downwards.
Calen clamped his eyes shut as they passed through the glamour, and the world erupted in a flash of blinding white light. He'd barely had a second to recover before panic poured from Valerys. Calen swung to the left as Valerys spun and twisted in the air, arrows whistling past them. He pulled his and Valerys's minds together, pushing away the panic that threatened them. Draleid n'aldryr, Valerys.The sensation of the Spark pulsed and they dropped, arcs of lightning soaring past them. The wind crashed against Calen from the left, then the right, his stomach turning as Valerys spun.
Steel glinted in the pinkish light of the blood moon as more arrows cut through the air.
Calen pulled on threads of Air and Fire. He reached out, sensing the shifts in the air. He snapped at the arrow shafts with the threads of Fire, watching as the projectiles burst into flames. Calen and Valerys's hearts thumped together, hammering like war drums, blood burning through their veins. Through Valerys's eyes, Calen saw the arrows and lightning had come from one of Aravell's walls. Another flurry cut the air. Valerys folded his wings and dropped, Calen using threads of Air to shield them as they fell. They think we're the Dragonguard.
With a mighty crack of his wings, Valerys dropped and alighted on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the Aravell walls. The dragon lifted himself to full height and pulled his chest back. Valerys's dense muscles rippled beneath Calen. A low rumble sounded in the dragon's chest, and then he threw his head forward and unleashed a roar that shook the air. Calen's skin prickled, his breath catching at the sheer power in Valerys's roar.
The rumbles in Valerys's chest and throat subsided slowly, and the echoes of his roar lingered in the air. Calen could hear his own heart beating in the silence that followed. He drew in threads of Air and Spirit weaving them through his voice. "It is Calen Bryer and Valerys."
More silence. Calen sensed the Spark, and his body tensed, preparing for what might come.
"Pass freely, Draleid." The voice carried on threads of Spirit and Air.
"To Alura."
Calen's heart still pounded as he and Valerys soared over the bridge that separated Alura from the main city of Aravell. As they flew over the trees that topped the arched passageway, he looked down and saw people gathered in the central courtyard by the thicket of trees that occupied its centre.
"Land near the edge of the main platform."
Shouts rang out from below as Valerys dropped from the sky. Just as they reached the platform, Valerys spread his wings and alighted on a clear patch of stone, people rushing to get out of the way.
As Calen dismounted, he saw Ella, Dann, Erik, Therin, Alea, Lyrei, Tarmon, and Vaeril striding towards him. Faenir bolted past them all, his legs eating the ground. Calen readied himself for the wolfpine to tackle him to the ground, as Faenir had always done, but instead Faenir stopped a foot or so from Calen, hackles raised, face twisted in a snarl.
"Faenir, what's wrong?" Calen reached out his hand but yanked it back when Faenir snapped at him. There was a savagery in the wolfpine's eyes that Calen had never witnessed before.
Valerys moved over Calen, dropped his neck, and swung his head at Faenir. The dragon hooked his snout beneath the wolfpine's body and flung him through the air.
"Valerys, no!" Calen rounded on the dragon, but Valerys ignored him. Instead, he shifted his body so he stood over Calen protectively, wings spread, chest puffed out.
Faenir crashed to the ground a few feet away, hauling himself back to his feet as soon as he'd hit stone. The wolfpine charged at Valerys.
A familiar pressure built in the back of Calen's head, and he frantically pulled his and Valerys's minds together, trying to soothe the dragon's anger. The rumblings of dragonfire faded, but Valerys craned his head over Calen and unleashed a roar that stopped Faenir in his tracks and turned the heads of everyone in the courtyard.
To Calen's surprise, Faenir hadn't run or whimpered, he'd simply slowed. Faenir's hackles were still raised, his nose wrinkled in a snarl as he took cautious steps towards Valerys.
Calen looked to his left to see Ella and Dann had broken into a run, others behind them.
"What's going on?" Calen roared, gesturing at Faenir.
"You left us!" Ella shouted back, anger burning in her voice. As she reached Calen, she slammed her hands into his chest. "That's what happened. We crossed the continent to find you, and you just left!"
Calen stumbled backwards, just managing to stop himself from falling. He made to speak but stopped when he saw Ella's eyes flashing amber, her teeth looking as though they'd sharpened to fangs. "I… I didn't mean to do it like that. I just—"
"You what?" Dann strode past Ella, stopping only inches from Calen. His breaths trembled, and his clenched hands shook at his sides. "Tell me, Calen. Explain to me why you just fucking left us here."
"Aeson lied to me, he lied about everything. There's things I haven't told you, about the Dragonguard. About everything."
Dann's breathing slowed, and he leaned forwards so Calen could feel his breath against his face. "You left me after Durakdur. You had a chance to come back." He shook his head. "We were meant to go after Rist together. That's what we said – together, Calen. But you charged off and left me alone." Dann clenched his jaws, the muscles twitching. His voice rose to a roar. "You left me alone!"
"Dann…"
"Don't you tell me you're sorry. When you finally stumbled out of the Burnt Lands, all I cared was that you were all right. We rode from Durakdur to Argona and all the way to the Burnt Lands trying to find you. You know what I was thinking the whole time?" Tears of anger welled in Dann's eyes. "All I was thinking was what if the only two true friends I have in this world are dead? What if I never see their faces again?" Dann stood there in silence for a moment, his breaths slow. "You're a selfish bastard, Calen."
Calen made to speak, but Dann pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. I'm sick of apologies. Don't even think about doing that again." He squeezed tighter. "I'm happy you're all right."
"I won't," Calen said, reciprocating Dann's embrace. As he pulled away he saw a tall, broad-shouldered man and a woman with dark hair standing beside Ella – he thought he remembered them from outside the gates.
"Well," Erik said with a shrug. "That's pretty good timing. At least you're back in time for the fun."
"What's happened? I saw Dragonguard setting fire to the Darkwood."
"Argona is gone." Tarmon's voice was level as he spoke, but Calen heard the ache in it.
"What do you mean it's gone?"
"It's gone," Therin said. "We don't know what happened, but after you left, another message came through to Baldon. We think the empire found out that Castor Kai was intending to meet with us."
"So they burned an entire city?" Calen's shock turned to rage, then dropped to sorrow. "Why in the gods would anyone do that?"
"That's how the empire deals with rebellions." People moved out of the way as Chora approached, threads of Air moving the wheels of her chair. She held his gaze as she approached, her face all hard lines. "I'm not going to ask where you went. We'll have time for that later. You're an idiot. For now, the elves have summoned us for a war council in Mythníril. The long and short of it is that the Dragonguard have burned Argona to the ground, and they are using their fire to carve a path towards Aravell. The Aldithmar won't stray outside the boundaries of the wood. It's a clever tactic, but we'll see what they do when they reach the Nithrandír. Before you ask, no, we don't know how they discovered us or why they've chosen to attack now, though their mages will likely be stronger under the Blood Moon's light. We've long suspected they knew we were here. It was a matter of numbers. The elves stayed put, so there was no reason for the empire to waste lives trying to attack the city. According to the Dvalin Angan, the imperial forces number near eighty thousand, with several Fades among their ranks. Add the three Dragonguard and it's not looking fantastic." Chora looked to Dann, Calen, Erik, Tarmon, and Vaeril. "I suggest you go and put your pretty armour on. Between the rebels and the elves who've sworn to you, you've an army to lead now. Best you look the part."
Calen nodded. "Where's Aeson and Haem?"
"Haem's gone to get your soldiers ready," Ella said, stepping closer. "The other knights left as soon as the Blood Moon rose. They said they'd be back."
"I really fucking hope they come back." Erik let out a puff of air. "After what they did at Kingspass I think we're going to need them."
Calen drew in a short breath, settling himself. This was everything he'd been training for. He was ready. "All right. Dann, Vaeril, Tarmon, Erik. Let's get to it." He turned to Ella. Faenir moved to her side, his shoulder brushing hers. Calen still couldn't believe how enormous the wolfpine had grown, and he was absolutely certain it wasn't natural.
"We're fighting with you." Ella's eyes flashed amber as she spoke, flickering to molten gold. It appeared Calen wasn't the only one who had changed since they'd left The Glade. He would ask her about it all, but at that moment, he looked back at her, and he could see the hardness in her stare.
"We go where Ella goes," the big man standing behind her said. His hair was dark as night, and as Calen looked at him, he couldn't help but think the man reminded him a little of Rhett. The man extended his hand, and Calen reached out and grasped his forearm. "Tanner Fjorn," he said with a gruff nod and gestured towards the woman beside him. "This is Yana."
"Calen Bryer." Calen looked at the man, Tanner, as he spoke. "You're not Rhett's uncle Tanner, are you? He spoke of you."
"That I am. Heraya embrace him."
Calen's heart dropped into his stomach, and he looked to Ella.
The amber in her eyes faded back to blue as she looked at him. Faenir whimpered. "On the road to Gisa. Empire soldiers."
"Ella… I…"
"There'll be time to talk later."
Tanner rested his hand on Ella's shoulder, and Yana placed her hand atop his.
Calen wanted to pull Ella into an embrace, but he could see by the look in her eyes that was not what she wanted or needed, so instead he just nodded and turned to Chora. "We'll get our armour and meet you in Mythníril."
Before Chora answered, a flash of movement in Valerys's vision near the trees at the centre of the courtyard caught Calen's attention. "What's going on over there?"
"Dragonguard Rakina – or 'Imperial Justicars' as they like to call themselves now." The words left Chora's mouth as though they were poison. "They arrived with your sister. Thacia and Asius are fitting them with runecrafted manacles to block their connection to the Spark while we fight. We can deal with them after."
"They're the only reason I got here alive." Ella's stare hardened as she looked at Chora. "If not for Farda, I'd still be chained in that tent, or more likely, dead."
Calen snapped his head around to look at Ella. He could feel fury swelling in Valerys, but he tried to soothe the dragon, tried to temper the flames, at least for the moment. "Farda? Farda Kyrana?"
Speaking the man's name aloud caused Calen's hands to shake. Memories flooded his mind of Freis crashing through the wall of their home, Farda's fist clenching, the flames. He now knew Farda had been using the Spark that day – the day he killed Calen's mam. Varyn, I pray to you. Let it be him.
Ella must have seen something in Calen's stare because she tensed. "Why?"
The tone of her voice told Calen everything he needed to know. He saw the purple light of his eyes glowing off the faces of those around him, the wisps of mist drifting into the air as he let Valerys's fury in. He turned away from Ella and pushed through the gathered crowd. Hands pulled at him, and voices called, but he kept walking. Valerys lifted into the air and soared towards the trees at the centre of the courtyard – they were one, their fury and rage all consuming.
As Calen approached, Asius, Senas, and Thacia turned to look at him. He saw their lips moving, but no sounds touched his ears. Three people knelt beside the Jotnar, steel manacles clamped around their wrists. The manacles glowed with a blue light and were connected to chains that had been fused into the white-stone ground with the Spark. The prisoner on the left was a dark-skinned elf, his head drooping. The one in the middle was a woman with hair as white as snow.
"Farda!" Calen's chest and throat scratched as he roared at the top of his lungs, Valerys alighting beside him. A deep, vicious growl resonated in the dragon's throat.
The third prisoner, the man on the right, lifted his head at Calen's roar. As Calen's gaze fell on the bruised and bloody face of Farda Kyrana, his steps slowed. For a moment, his anger froze, his heart twisting as he relived that day in The Glade. Then his anger roared back like a blazing inferno. The way Farda stared back at him only drove Calen's rage further.
Calen strode forwards and, in one sweep of his hands, wrapped his fingers around Farda's neck and heaved the man to his feet. Farda stopped with a sudden jerk as his chains pulled against him. Calen tightened his hand around the man's neck, clenching his jaw as Farda stared back at him, eyes cold and unyielding.
Valerys loomed over Calen, the dragon's fury blending with his own. The sense of loss that rang clear in the dragon's mind only fuelled the fire within Calen. Farda had taken Freis from Valerys before the dragon had ever had a chance to meet her. Valerys had not been there when Calen killed Rendall, but now all the dragon wanted to do was bathe Farda in a river of fire.
"Calen!" Ella grabbed Calen's shoulder, but he shrugged her away.
Farda's stare never left Calen's, and the man made no motions to free his throat from Calen's grasp.
"Calen, you'll kill him!"
Ella grasped Calen's arm, trying to pull it down, but he held firm, muscles burning. She slammed her fist into the pit of his elbow at the same time as a pair of arms wrapped around his chest from behind and pulled him back. His grip slipped from Farda's throat as the man fell to the ground gasping.
Calen thrashed, breaking free of the arms that held him. He turned to find himself staring at Aeson. "Get your fucking hands off me!"
"Do you not think I want him dead? I want to watch the life drain from his eyes for what he has done. But we have enemies at the gates who aren't bound in chains."
Calen shook, his hands, his chest, his whole body. "He killed my mam, Aeson. Like she was nothing." Calen dropped his hand to his hip, needing to rub the fabric of his mam's scarf between his thumbs. For that brief moment, he'd forgotten he'd given it to Haem. Its absence only drove the hurt deeper. "It would only take a second."
Aeson leaned forwards as though he was about to speak, but Ella cut across him. "What did you say?"
The rush of anger was slowly ebbing, but Calen's voice still trembled as he turned to Ella. He pointed at Farda, who still knelt before them. "He killed mam." Calen's words caught in his throat. "He set her on fire… I thought you and Faenir were inside the house when he did."
Ella's eyes shifted from blue to molten gold. Her lips pulled back in a snarl. She spun on her heels and screamed, slapping Farda across the face. "You coward! You bastard!"
Calen looked on in awe as blood poured from four claw marks that sliced through Farda's face from his ear to his jaw, the flesh torn and twisted. The man didn't even flinch, he just stared back at Ella with what Calen could only describe as sorrow in his eyes.
Calen looked down at Ella's hand to see her fingernails had thickened and lengthened, blood pooling at their sharpened tips before dripping onto the white stone. She stared back at Farda, her breaths trembling. Faenir moved beside her, a low growl rumbling in his throat, his lips twisting in a snarl.
Calen's anger still simmered, but he pushed it down, or at least, he tried. He rested his hand on his sister's shoulder, which elicited a snarl. She turned her head, eyes glimmering gold.
"Aeson is right." They were not words Calen enjoyed speaking, but they were true. "He will be here when all this is done. We need to focus on what's in front of us."
A curl of Ella's lip revealed a wolf-like fang. "What if we lose? What if the city falls?"
"We'll cross that bridge if it comes to it."
"He needs to die for what he did, Calen." A low growl crept into Ella's voice, her jaw clenching. "He needs to die."
"He will."
Ella stared at Calen for a moment, then dropped to one knee. She clasped her hand around Farda's jaw, her sharp nails pressing against the wounds on his face. Again, the man didn't flinch. "When this is over, I'll come back here." The tremble in Ella's voice pulled at Calen's heart. "What kind of monster are you?"
Ella pushed Farda backwards, then rose. Her eyes softened a little as she looked at Calen. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I would never have brought him here."
"As much as I'm loving this family moment," Chora said, pushing her wheelchair level with Calen, "we don't have the time. We'll move them, keep them chained, and place a guard on watch. Now go."
As the courtyard emptied and everyone moved off to prepare for the battle to come, a hand wrapped around Calen's arm, and he turned to see Aeson staring back at him.
"I did what I had to do," Aeson said.
"You did what was easiest."
"Would you have gone, if you knew? Would you have flown on Valerys to find your sister?"
Calen bit the inside of his lip. He decided to be honest. "Yes."
"Then I made the right choice. Did you find the answers you were looking for?"
"Not enough of them. Tivar Savinír."
"You went to Dracaldryr then…" Aeson looked at the ground. "How is she?"
"Haunted."
Aeson nodded slowly, ran his tongue across his front teeth, then let out a sigh. "Before we walk into that war council, I need to ask you to do something, Calen."
"You have some nerve to ask anything from me."
Aeson lifted his gaze to meet Calen's, his blue eyes piercing. "I ask you to run."
That was the last thing Calen had expected. "Sorry, what? You want me to run? Now, when the empire is at the gates?"
"You are the last of us, Calen. The last of our race."
"The Dragonguard, the elven Draleid—"
"They are the reason you are the last of us." Aeson's voice was harsh as he cut across Calen, a vein bulging in his neck. "The Dragonguard do not deserve to call themselves Draleid. And the Draleid who side with the Lynalion elves will be as bloodthirsty now as the Dragonguard were then. They will destroy each other. So yes, you are the last. And not only that, Valerys is the first dragon that's hatched since The Fall. I know you know that, but I need you to understand the significance." Aeson looked at Valerys, who had moved so he now stood over them both. "Valerys is impossible. He should not exist, and yet he does. I had always hoped that maybe whatever had stopped the Epherian dragons from hatching hadn't affected the dragons of Valacia. We sent many expeditions. None ever came back. That's why I went myself. Even if we could trust the elven Draleid, there's no signs to say their eggs are hatching either. If they had been, the elves of Lynalion would have come out from hiding a long time ago. Eventually they will wither and die. Valerys is unique. He must survive. You must survive."
As Aeson spoke, a moment of realisation clicked in Calen's head: if it wasn't for Aeson, Valerys wouldn't exist. It was a simple thought, one that Calen had already known, and yet in the midst of everything, he had allowed himself to forget it.
"Take whomever you need. Take them and leave through the eastern gate. Erik can lead you through the pass to Lodhar and the Southern Fold Gate of Durakdur." Aeson took a step closer to Calen, resting a hand on Calen's shoulder. "I don't know if we will survive this, Calen. The elven armies in Aravell are strong, but against three grown dragons and gods know how many Fades… But not if you run. If you live on, the rebellion lives on. The Draleid live on."
The two men stood in silence, only the rustle of the trees passing between them.
"No." Calen shook his head. "All I've done since the start is run. Everywhere we have gone, people have died. In the villages, in Belduar, Durakdur, Drifaien… I keep running, and people keep dying. A friend once told me that the only thing within our control is what we choose to do with the short time we have. He told me that in a world where nothing matters, what matters to us means everything. That if we forget about the ones we love, everything loses meaning. That is why I went after Rist, and it's also why I'm not running. Except for Rist, everyone and everything I love is in this city. The people I am willing to die for – they are here. And this fight, this rebellion, all of those people who have come here – I believe in it. After Valerys hatched, you said to me that this might not have been my cause, but it is now. You were right."
Aeson let out a heavy sigh as he stared back at Calen. "So be it. All things come to an end. If this is that day, we'll face it with our swords in our hands staring into the eyes of those who would send us to the void."
Calen looked down as he traced his hand along the vines of gold that swept across the breastplate of his armour, a smile touching his lips as his skin pressed against the ornate leaves Valdrin had worked into the metal. Aeson and the others hadn't been impressed with the fact that The Order symbol hadn't been marked across the breast. But Calen didn't think there would be a point in his life when he would be able to explain to Valdrin how much that small detail meant to him.
Footsteps sounded at the door, and Calen turned to see Lasch Havel resting his hand on the doorframe. The man had slowly recovered over the months but still looked gaunt and weary. His beard and hair were trimmed tight, though both remained brittle and grey. "You definitely look the part." Lasch's smile was weak as he stepped into the room. He looked over Calen from head to toe. "A Draleid. Who'd have thought it?"
Calen sighed softly, looking at the white steel armour that covered his body. All he was missing were the two gauntlets that rested on the bed behind him. "How are you feeling? How's Elia?"
"Good," Lasch said with a smile. The man's hands shook as he lifted them and rested them on Calen's pauldrons. "If Vars had seen you like this, he'd have smiled ear-to-ear. He never shut up about you. You know that, right?"
Calen nodded, turning his gaze to the floor.
"It feels like it was only yesterday we were sending you boys into Ölm Forest for The Proving."
Calen lifted his head to see Lasch biting at his lip hard enough that blood was trickling down his chin. The man had done that since being freed from Berona.
"I'll find him, Lasch. I promise."
A brief smile touched Lasch's lips, but he shook his head. "Your father also had a habit of making promises he couldn't keep, or at least, promises he shouldn't have been able to keep. Somehow, he always seemed to find a way." Lasch drew in a deep breath, then let it out slow. "You and Dann were the best thing to ever happen to Rist. You know when you were younger, he barely spoke when you two weren't around, but when he was with you, we couldn't shut him up."
"I think that's Dann's doing," Calen said with a laugh.
Lasch leaned in and rested his forehead against Calen's. "Thank you for everything you've done for him and what you did for us. Vars and Freis might be gone, Calen, but you'll always have a family."
Calen pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, holding back the tears that burned at the corner of his eyes.
"May The Mother embrace you," Lasch whispered.
"And The Father protect you," Calen added.
"May The Warrior guide your hand, and The Maiden guide your mind," they both said together.
"May The Smith keep your blade sharp." Dann's voice rang out from the doorway. Calen lifted his head to see Dann wore his new armour, the depiction of the white dragon emblazoned across the breastplate, a white hooded cloak flowing between his pauldron and spaulder. "Am I intentionally being left out?"
"Come here, Dann." Lasch wrapped his arm Dann's head and tugged him close, pulling their heads together. "May The Smith keep both your blades sharp and The Sailor see you to safe shores." Lasch held them for a moment. "I'd be out there with you if I thought I'd be anything more than a hindrance. You two look after each other, you hear? That's what people of The Glade do." A tear trickled down Lasch's cheek. He sniffed, then stood back and patted Dann and Calen's shoulders. "Come on, Elia's waiting downstairs. Be gentle with her, she's having a rough day."
"I'll be down in a second," Calen said as Lasch and Dann stepped out of the room.
Calen turned to the bed, looking down at everything he'd splayed across it, everything he'd carried with him: a purse of coins Alleron had given him, the brass-backed obsidian pendant and Alvira's letter he'd found in Vindakur, the polished metal disk and riddle Rokka had given him, and his two gauntlets.
He let out a heavy sigh, then picked up his left gauntlet, sliding his hand inside. He did the same with his right, then looked at the two circles of runes that ran around the outside of the vambraces matching the ones now inscribed on his forearms.
The last time he was preparing for a battle like this was in Belduar. He'd failed then. Belduar had burned to the ground, and thousands had died as he and the others fled down the Wind Tunnels. But he was a different man now, and Valerys was a far more powerful dragon. A rumble of agreement sounded in the back of his mind. No matter what, we will not run. We will not yield. Valerys's rumble turned into a roar of defiance.
Calen dropped his gauntleted hand to the coin pommel of the sword his dad had given him, the sword that had slain Durin Longfang, Taran Shadesmire, and Rayce Garrin. The sword that had been forged over a thousand years ago. The sword that had been wielded by the Chainbreaker – Vars Bryer. Calen remembered what his dad had said to him the day he gave Calen that sword. 'There is no need to thank me, Calen. You have filled me with more pride than I ever thought possible. The man you have become is thanks enough.'"I will not let you down. I promise."
Calen lifted his hand from the sword and held his arms out in front of himself. "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 on Calen's armour ignited into life, glowing with a bright purple light. Calen watched as the metal on his vambraces and gauntlets melded together. The rest of his armour followed suit until he was covered in smooth, flowing plate, and the light of the runes had dulled to a pale glow. He could feel the runes, feel their power. Once he spoke the rune words, he could link and unlink the armour at will.
Calen picked up his helmet from the bed, casting his eyes over the runes that shimmered along the side plates. He drew in a long breath, then strode from the room.