Epheria is a land divided by war and mistrust. The High Lords of the south squabble and fight, only kept in check by the Dragonguard, traitors of a time long past, who serve the empire of the North. In the remote villages of southern Epheria, still reeling from the tragic loss of his brother, Calen Bryer prepares for The Proving—a test of courage and skill that not all survive.
Dahlen checked the contents of his satchel one last time before closing the flap, fixing the buckle into place, and lifting it up beside his swords, which lay in their scabbards on the desk at the back wall of the room Kira had arranged for him.
He checked over the scabbards, ensured the leather straps were in good condition, and examined the sword blades before strapping the weapons to his back.
Once they were both secured, he rested his hands on the satchel, hesitating a moment. It felt strange to be leaving after so long. Strange to be leaving the people of Belduar, whom he had developed an affection for, and also to be leaving the dwarves, many of whom he had grown to consider friends.
Ever since he was young, Dahlen had followed in his father's footsteps. He had dreamt of being the missing piece to Aeson's puzzle — of being the Draleid his father was searching for. That dream had been all-consuming. It had defined him. And when Valerys had hatched and bonded with Calen, that dream was shattered like a pane of glass. Dahlen was lost. Like a ship cut adrift at sea with no sails or oars. Although he had told his father that staying behind in Durakdur was because Ihvon and Daymon needed him, the truth was that he had needed them. Staying in Durakdur and investigating the assassinations with Ihvon had given Dahlen a chance to carve out something in this life that was his alone. And yet, strangely, it was that freedom that had convinced him his place truly was at his father's side. Not walking in Aeson's shadow, but standing at his side, fighting for the very same people he now called friends. Fighting to protect the people Ihvon and so many others had died for. There was a fire in him now, and he would see it burn.
"Your bootlace is undone."
Dahlen almost leapt from his skin at the sound of Belina's voice. The damn woman moved like a ghost. "I'm not falling for that again."
"Suit yourself," Belina said. Dahlen could hear the shrug in her voice. "You're the one who'll end up face first on the stone when you trip."
Dahlen sucked his cheeks inward, biting down, then shook his head, let out a sigh. "I hate you."
"You love me." Belina clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth as she stepped further into the room. "Everybody loves me." The upturn of Belina's bottom lip played in Dahlen's mind; he didn't even have to see it to know it was there. "It's a fact."
Dahlen's looked down at his two perfectly laced boots, then shook his head and slung his satchel over his back, facing Belina. Despite how irritating she was, Dahlen was happy to see some of her usual snark had returned. "Are you ready?"
"Ready is a state of being," she said, angling her chin upwards as though she was a queen. "But yes, my lute and pack are waiting by the Southern Fold gate under guard by three very eager, young Belduaran men."
Dahlen rolled his eyes, laughing. Belina had already informed him that her intention was to travel south, to Valtara, but she would journey with him just past Midhaven until the road forked.
Footsteps echoing in the corridor outside the room were followed by the sight of Oleg Marylin and Lumeera Arian standing in the doorway.
"Dahlen, Belina. Good, good," Oleg shuffled into the room, moving awkwardly in the tight fighting doublet of purple and gold. "I had been hoping to catch you before you left for the gate."
"Oh Keeper of the Mountain. It is such an honour." Belina crossed one arm over her belly and stretched the other out behind her, bowing so deeply she almost folded herself in half. Dahlen couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Belina had been exaggerating her mannerism towards Oleg ever since Kira and Elenya had affirmed his new position after the funeral pyres. "How may we be of assistance, mylord. Might we caress the noble backside?"
The glare Oleg gave Belina would have turned a river to ice, but beside him Lumeera was smiling from ear to ear.
"What can I do for you, Oleg? Or, Lord Keeper." Dahlen gave Oleg a bow, though a far less mocking one than Belina.
"Stop that, the both of you." Oleg frowned, pulling at his doublet, shifting it to what was most likely a more comfortable position. "This thing chafes everywhere."
Oleg glanced at Lumeera, who nodded back, and they both took a few steps further into the room.
"What is it, Oleg?" Panic ignited in Dahlen's stomach at the serious look on Oleg and Lumeera's faces.
"Nothing like that," Oleg said, raising his open palms. "Don't worry. I have come to ask one more thing of you both."
"Well?" Dahlen asked after a few moments had elapsed.
Oleg raised an eyebrow, a smile spreading from ear to ear. He looked from Dahlen to Belina, then back again. "Are you going to speak that way to the Lord Keeper of the Mountain?"
Everyone in the room burst out laughing. Had it been anyone else who'd spoken, there would have been nothing funny about the sentence, but because it was Oleg, Dahlen couldn't hold back his laughter.
"You know what?" Belina asked, choking down a laugh.
"What?" Oleg asked.
"You've clearly been watching me closely because your delivery was excellent."
Oleg puffed out his cheeks, shaking his head as he wiped tears of laughter away with the sleeve of his doublet. He drew in a few deep breaths, settling himself. "Lumeera and I have come here to ask something of you."
"We know… Lord Keeper." Belina let out a laugh. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Please, continue."
Oleg threw Belina a glare, then shook his head, resting his hand on his belly, where the buttons on the tight doublet were bulging. "With everything that has happened, and everything that is yet to pass, there are some Belduarans who wish to leave for lands where the dwarves hold no sway. Some who want to start anew. I was hoping that since you are both travelling already, you would be willing to join their escort. Kira has informed me that the reports coming in are that between Uraks, bandits, and imperial soldiers, the roads across Illyanara are perilous for travellers. The people trust you both, they feel safe around you."
"And the more sharp steel we have, the better."
Dahlen looked to Belina, who, predictably, shrugged, then turned back to Oleg. "And you're just going to let them go?"
"It is not my place to allow or not allow. I am no king. They are people of Belduar, and they will remain so no matter where they go. But it is my task now to protect them. And so that is what I intend to do. It may well be that we all follow them in time. But for now, I want to see what this new relationship with the Freehold will bring. I fully believe we can restore Belduar to what it once was."
"And who is their escort?" Belina asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
"A number of my guard will make up the escort," Lumeera said. It was only then Dahlen noticed the lack of a purple cloak at her shoulders. "Without a king, there is no Kingsguard. But that does not mean we will not continue to defend Belduar and its people. I will remain here, along with the bulk of the surviving guard, to ensure Oleg's safety, but a number have volunteered for the journey. They are set to journey to the old villages west of Ölm Forest. The cities are already rammed with refugees, and the word is that many have begun to gather in the western most village, just along the coast. Our hope is to find not only refuge there, but a place to contribute."
Belina puffed out her bottom lip, tilting her head sideways. "If you'll provide the coin for me to take a ship across the sea from Salme to Skyfell, I'll—"
"Done," Oleg said, cutting Belina's sentence short.
"And wine. I want wine. Oh, and cheese. And maybe some of those spongey cakes the dwarves love."
Oleg shook his head, laughing. "I'll see what I can do." The man looked to Dahlen.
"I cannot, Oleg." Dahlen let out a sigh. "I must go to Arem in Argona. I've been away from everything for too long. I need to find my father, and Calen, and Erik. I have a place in the fight to come."
Oleg ran his tongue across his teeth, looking at the ground. "This is the fight, Dahlen," he said, lifting his gaze to meet Dahlen's. "What are we fighting for if not people?"
"It's not that simple, Oleg."
"Is it not?" Lumeera asked. "I've fought beside you a number of times now, Dahlen Virandr. And it has always been clear to me why you fight. You fight to protect. Everything you do is in defence of others."
Oleg gave Lumeera a soft smile, then looked at Dahlen. "These people are scared. They've lost their homes, their kin, and their king. Everything they've known is broken. I wish they would stay, but I cannot say I don't understand their desire to leave. I would not ask this of you, but I cannot spare many guards to escort them. The nobles are still not happy with my appointment, and the Hand are likely still lurking."
Dahlen made to speak, but before he could, Oleg spoke again.
"If you would accept, I can send a hawk to your contact in Argona, telling them where you have gone, and they can then in turn relay your father's location to you there. The journey to Argona is much the same as to the western villages, but a hawk flies far faster than a horse gallops. By the time you reach the villages, there will likely be a message already waiting for you. You lose little to no time, you help get these people to a safe place, and you find where your father is. We all get what we want."
Dahlen turned to Belina, but the woman raised her hands. "Don't look at me. You can tag along, but you're not getting any of my cheese."
Dahlen shook his head, looking back at Oleg, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Oleg was still the same strange, slightly awkward man Dahlen knew as the Belduaran emissary to the Freehold, but he was most certainly taking to his new role with aplomb. Dahlen looked towards the ceiling, puffed out his cheeks, then released a sigh. "All right. But you must send the hawk today. I'll need one letter addressed to Arem himself, explaining what is to be done, and then a second letter to be forwarded on to my father so he knows everything that has happened here and that I am well."
"It will be done." Oleg's smile stretched from ear to ear.
"All right," Dahlen said, double checking his satchel's straps. "Gather them, and let's get moving."
Oleg's smile grew even wider. "They're already waiting for you."
Dahlen stopped in his tracks as Oleg and Lumeera led him and Belina through the stone doorway and out into the enormous chamber that fronted the Southern Fold Gate. "You said a few people, Oleg."
What had to be nearly two hundred men and women — even some children — were moving about the chamber, stuffing packs, checking straps, and readying themselves.
"Well, I never actually said how many," Oleg said with a shrug. "There are one hundred and sixty-seven in total, with twenty-three former Kingsguard as escorts. Kira and Elenya have provided enough rations for two weeks – salted goat, hard cheese, crusty bread – along with enough gold and silver to ensure a safe journey. A gesture of goodwill on their part."
"All right." Dahlen looked over the people gathered, his gaze softening. What Oleg said had been true, by the time they reached the western villages, a hawk would easily have travelled to Arem in Argona, and the reply would likely be awaiting Dahlen. If he could ensure these people found a new place to settle in that time, there was no reason he shouldn't.
Dahlen grasped Oleg's forearm. "It's been an honour, Oleg. Be careful. There are still too many things unanswered here – too many things at play."
"I'm in good hands," Oleg said, looking towards Lumeera, who inclined her head.
"I have no doubt of that, but there are knives in the shadows here still. Whoever killed Pulroan still lurks. Have you heard anything of Volkur and Azmar?"
"There is a moot today in Azmar to decide Pulroan's successor. Though, it is common for dwarven succession talks to stretch on for weeks, even months in some cases. As for Volkur, the Wind Tunnels still remain shut since the night of the assassination attempts. But that also, is not uncommon. There have been many occasions where a kingdom has shut itself off from outside influence when choosing a new king or queen. The question is what Kira and Elenya will now do."
"What do you mean?"
"They are in a position of strength," Oleg said, pushing out his bottom lip. "Consolidating the other two kingdoms into their own before new rulers are selected is a viable option. Though it will not come without resistance."
Dahlen nodded slowly, taking in what Oleg had said. He squeezed the man's forearm. "Take care of yourself, Oleg. And you too, Lumeera." Dahlen released his grip on Oleg's forearm and grasped Lumeera's instead. "The Kingsguard may be no more, but you were a fine Lord Captain."
"Even though I put you in bonds?" Lumeera's lips pulled into a smirk.
Dahlen let out a short laugh, nodding. "Even still," he said. "Though, I'm not quite sure I forgive you."
"Dahlen Virandr," a voice called from behind Dahlen. "You didn't think you'd get away from me that easily, did you?"
He turned to find himself looking down at the smiling face of Nimara – the dwarven captain who had been at the entrance to the refugee quarters before the attack and had also helped Dahlen's father search for Calen and Erik. She wore a breastplate of thick steel, her muscled arms bare, her long blonde braid draped over her right shoulder. "Nimara Kol. May your fire never be extinguished and your blade never dull. What are you doing here?"
Nimara repeated the greeting, her gaze never leaving Dahlen's. "Queen Kira asked for volunteers to travel with the Belduarans, to act as escorts and envoys for when we reach the western villages." Nimara gestured behind her to where twenty dwarves were securing their packs and checking their weapons. To Dahlen's surprise, and delight, he noticed Yoring and Almer among them. "Our people have spent too long beneath this mountain, and I for one wish to see more in my life than stones and glowing flowers. Besides, you still owe me that tankard of ale."
Dahlen could feel the heat of his cheeks reddening as Nimara gave him a wink. "I'm sure that can be arranged."
"Oh, it better be, Virandr," Nimara said as she turned and started back off towards the other dwarves. "We'll be ready to leave when you are."
Something sharp poked Dahlen in the ribs, and he looked to see Belina elbowing him. "If you don't take her up on that drink, I will. And once I work my magic, you won't stand a chance." Belina puffed out her cheeks. "What. A. Woman." Belina drew in a long breath through her nostrils as she stared after Nimara, then shook her head. "Right, it's about time we started off. I've wasted enough time playing mother to all you helpless children, and I can guarantee Dayne has gotten himself into a waist-high pile of shit that he'll need me to drag him out of. Off to the villages, then to Valtara. Now, Oleg. I was promised wine, cheese, and cake."