38. Neither Bent Nor Broken
Chapter 38
Neither Bent Nor Broken
14 th Day of the Blood Moon
Lodhar Mountains – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Kira grunted, pain shooting up her legs and through her lower back with every step she forced herself to take, moving towards the end of the short corridor. The healer had urged her to stay in bed, but Kira had already spent too long doing nothing. It had been days since Erani and the others had broken her free, and she’d slept far more of that time than she’d been awake. And even then, her memory was thick and opaque. She remembered eating, devouring anything that was handed to her, savage and insatiable. She also remembered Erani's face, her sister’s calm voice.
No. She could rest when she was dead. The world was shifting beneath her, and she knew if she lay down too long, she would arise to find it unrecognisable.
She hobbled towards the door and pushed through. A deep yellow-gold light filled her eyes where she had expected the blue-green of Heraya’s Ward. The lanterns beside her bed had been the Ward she knew. She’d only heard of Ward this colour in the stories her mother used to tell her, of Vindakur and the Portal Hearts. Surely that’s not where she stood now, in the lost city?
One look around as her eyes adjusted to the light told her no, she most definitely was not in the lost city of Vindakur.
The buildings around her were all smooth stone and little else, old and battered from centuries of use and abuse. A tall cavern stood about them, small patches of the golden Heraya’s Ward sprouting from cracks in the rock. She remembered now Erani had said they were taking her to an abandoned mining outpost in the far north. Many of those outposts had been abandoned even before Vindakur was lost, stripped of all valuable minerals and ores.
Her mind still slow and foggy, Kira turned her attention to the movement around her, dwarves and humans carrying crates of grain and root, virtuk wagons hauling thick lengths of wood and strips of iron and steel.
“My queen.”
It was only then Kira realised that two dwarves in the crimson cloaks of Durakdur knelt on either side of the door from which she had just emerged. She recognised them both: Ahktar and Kalik. They had been by her side since her ascension to the throne.
“May your fires never be extinguished and your blades never dull.” She bowed her head to them both, clenching her jaw in pain as she did. “I cannot explain how much happiness it gives me to see your faces.”
Ahktar rose first. “We did everything we could, my queen. I swear it by Hafaesir’s hammer, I swear it by my place in the rock. I will die before I let them lay a finger on you again.”
Kalik opened his mouth to add to Kalik’s words but said nothing at the sight of Kira raising her hand.
“Swear to me only one thing.” Kira stumbled, and Ahktar lowered his shoulder so she could steady herself.
“Name it, my queen.” Ahktar pressed a hand to his breastplate.
“Swear that you will stand by my side when I take Hoffnar’s head from his shoulders.”
“I will stand at your side until Heraya takes me, and when she does, my axe will be wet with the traitor’s blood.”
“As will mine,” Kalik added.
Even in her state, Kira could tell the two dwarves did not speak from hurt pride alone. Erani and Lumeera had said her Queensguard had stormed the Heart to protect her. She did not know what number had survived, but judging by the wrath in Kalik and Ahktar’s eyes, the price had been high. “Please, take me to my sister.”
Kira clenched her jaw and forced herself not to wince with every step as the two Queensguard led her through the outpost. Both Kalik and Ahktar offered her their shoulders to lean on, but she refused them. Not because she was too proud to take their help, but because she wanted the other dwarves and humans to see that she still walked with her head high. That she was neither bent nor broken, but defiant and hungry.
And with each hobbled step she took, more dwarves stopped in the streets of the outpost and emerged from within the old buildings to stare at her.
Were it not for the two Queensguard in crimson cloaks flanking her, she didn’t think any of them would have recognised who she was. But they did.
Whispers of ‘my queen’ and ‘by Hafaesir’s grace’ sounded all about her, and one by one, dwarves either bowed deeply or dropped to one knee. More than a few wide eyes couldn’t look away from her shaved head, she had no doubt.
Many of the Belduarans stopped to see what the fuss was but only watched with curiosity as she passed. Every few feet, a warrior stepped from the gathering crowd with a crimson cloak knotted at their shoulders, knelt before her, then moved to stand at her side. She recognised every face, and each one warmed her heart.
There were more survivors than she’d dared hope. By the time Ahktar and Kalik stopped before the doors of a squat stone structure, forty-eight Queensguard marched slowly in formation around her, keeping her pace, and a crowd of dwarves and humans both had gathered around them.
The bulk of the Queensguard remained at the entrance while Kalik and Ahktar escorted her inside.
Kira found her sister in a large rectangular room, leaning over a stone table covered in maps and letters, with several familiar faces gathered around her.
Erani looked up from the table and frowned, the rings in her dark hair catching in the golden flower light that shone through the window behind her. “You should not be out of bed.”
“I should be dead.” Kira grunted as she hobbled towards the table.
She nodded to Lumeera Arian, who stood at Erani’s side. The Belduaran captain returned the gesture, raising an eyebrow as a figure beside her shuffled out of place and around the table.
Oleg Marylin wiped sweat from his brow with his hand, placed that same hand over his heart, and bowed. “Your Majesty, may your fire never be extinguished and your blade never dull. I cannot express my happiness to see you up and about.”
Oleg’s shirt was torn and filthy, his dark trousers much the same. His bald head was coated with dust from the mine, and the tip of his right ear was missing, a roaring red scab in its place. All in all, the man looked like he’d been through the void and back. Though Kira hadn’t seen herself in a mirror, she’d no doubt she looked much worse.
She limped towards Oleg, gratefully taking the shoulder that Ahktar offered. A strong front was not needed for those in this room. “Oleg Marylin, Keeper of the Mountain. May your fire never be extinguished and your blade never dull. You have my thanks. I don’t remember much from my time in the bed, but I do remember my sister telling me that I wouldn’t be standing here were it not for you and the warriors of Belduar.”
“And I wouldn’t be standing here if not for you, Your Majesty. It seems we owe a debt to each other.”
Kira smiled at that and gave the man a soft nod before looking about at the other faces who crowded the table.
Six Belduarans stood near Lumeera. All of them looked hard as iron; former Kingsguard no doubt. Kira could learn their names later.
The only other human in the room was Turim Arlan, Guildmaster of the Wind Runners. Tall, lean, and chisel-jawed, with stone-grey hair. Even then, standing about a makeshift war table, he still wore his padded navigator glasses with their thick black lenses and copper blinders. She’d known the man since she’d been a child, long before she’d had any notions of becoming a queen. Two navigators framed him on either side, both elves.
He lifted a hand as though grasping the brim of a hat that didn’t exist, then inclined his head, a warm smile on his lips. “Good to see you breathing, young one.”
“And you.” There was more in the smile she gave him than simple happiness. There was thanks, respect, and deep pride. There would be a time to express that with words, but he knew her well enough to understand the gesture.
A number of dwarves bearing sigils of Azmar, Ozryn, and Volkur crowded about the table. She greeted them much the same. If they were there, they had stood by her in her darkest hours and they had seen through Hoffnar’s deceptions. They would be forever welcome around her table.
Several of her own Queensguard and warriors of Durakdur made up the last of the count, including Vikmar, who had been Mirlak’s second. His was a face she was glad to see. She would call them all to council later. They deserved her time.
Once they were all settled, Kira leaned against the table, using it as leverage to keep herself upright. By all accounts she had not been in the cell more than two weeks, and yet her strength had withered like a dying flower, her stomach still twisting in pain, her broken ribs and fingers constantly throbbing. “Don’t stop on my account,” she said, holding back a grunt. “What are we looking at?”
“A lot has happened while you were resting,” Erani said. Kira bristled at the word ‘resting’, as though she was relaxing while the others fought. Erani pulled over a map etched in charcoal depicting what looked to be an intricate system of tunnels. “Hoffnar is building new tunnels branching off from Volkur.” She traced her finger from a large node of charcoal along a series of black lines that stretched to the edge of the page. “We’re not sure where they lead just yet, but we have some ideas.”
Kira gestured for her sister to continue, which earned her a glare. Erani had never been good at taking orders. She was the eldest. It had been Erani their mother had groomed for leadership, but she had shunned it at every turn. She didn’t want to be a leader but despised being led.
“Hoffnar has not been shy since butchering Queen Elenya and King Lakar and throwing you in that cell. He has given many public addresses and sent emissaries the length and breadth of the Freehold. He is proclaiming a new dawn for the dwarven people. He is offering them the sun, promising to lead them from the mountain, and announcing the time is now and may never come again, that the Lorian Empire is weak and ripe to reap what they have sown. It does not take much to connect his rhetoric to an attack on the Lorians, though we can’t be sure of his target. That information is being kept tight. And Hoffnar’s own personal guard, along with a small contingent of three mages he appears to have brought into his service, are hunting down any and all who hold loyalty to you – and they’re not being quiet about it. There are many who rally behind him, many who share in the dream he is promising.”
Kira nodded slowly, trying to absorb what she had just been told. Everything she had ever known was being dismantled piece by piece. Her head pounded like a forge hammer, and her stomach felt as though it would soon eat her liver for want of food.
The sound of a door slamming against a wall thumped through the corridor outside the chamber, followed by footfalls.
Four dwarves in sharp, thick plate marched into the chamber, the hammer of Durakdur worked into their breastplates, axes mounted on their backs.
“Blessed be the mountain and the fires within. Kira.” The lead dwarf removed his helmet to reveal a line-marked face half-covered by a thick blond beard so laden with rings of silver and gold it looked wrought from metal. The dwarf’s blue eyes were soft, lines creasing at the sides from smiling.
He strode forwards and pulled Kira into a tight embrace, causing pain to flare through her ribs.
“Uncle.” Kira squeezed Alrick with all the strength her body could muster. “I had hoped, but I didn’t know if… Erani didn’t tell me you survived.”
Alrick pulled away and stared into Kira’s eyes as though he hadn’t seen her in a hundred years. “You look like shit, little one.”
“And you look worse.”
“Pity they didn’t cut out that tongue. Would have been an improvement.”
Kira yanked her uncle back in close, squeezing him once more before letting him go and greeting the other three dwarves who marched with him. Lomak, Kandzal, and Okra. Alrick’s two sons and his daughter. Her cousins.
“I thought it best to wait until their return before promising you their lives.” Erani gave Kira a sympathetic smile.
Alrick approached the stone table, then swung a satchel from his shoulder and produced a severed head from within. He let it drop with a thump.
“Gods,” Oleg chirped, his eyes widening.
“Yarzik Olnak. High Captain of King Hoffnar’s Kingsguard.” Alrick twisted his fingers in the head’s bloody, ring-laden hair, pulling so he could stare into its eyes. “Put up a good fight. Died screaming, though.” He spat onto the dead dwarf’s face. “May he burn in the fires of the void. We’ve secured the harvest from Ozryn’s northwest tuber fields. Enough to see us through for a while.”
“Uncle.” Erani frowned. “As pleased as I am to hear that, would you mind removing the severed head from the table? It’s dripping onto the maps.”
Alrick lifted the head by the hair and brushed two tunnel maps out of the way before repositioning it.
“I didn’t mean…” Erani trailed off as Alrick turned and pulled a second head from a satchel around his daughter’s waist, dropping it beside the first.
The face was sleeker and smoother, clean shaven with long, dark hair; faded eyes; and ears that tapered to a point.
“An elf?”
Turim Arlan’s two navigators whispered something in the Old Tongue, their faces sombre.
“More than just an elf.” Alrick gestured to his son, who handed him what looked to be a crimson rag. He smoothed the fabric on the table. “An elf bearing the sigil of the golden stag.”
“Lunithír…”
Alrick nodded.
The Kingdom of Lunithír had long been dead, but the Freehold had caught word of the elven attacks on the Lorian coast.
“Yarzik wasn’t protecting a tuber field. We came across him on the return journey, meeting with this pretty little bastard.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Oleg Marylin whispered, folding his arms and scratching at his chin. “Until our enemy is dead and we argue over the corpse.”
“What did Yarzik say? What were they planning?” Kira had known Yarzik for over two decades. She’d drunk with him, sparred with him, played dice till her eyelids folded. She hated this. She hated all of this. Dwarves should not be killing dwarves.
“We didn’t do a lot of talking,” Alrick said with a shrug. “Tried to take him alive, but he lost his head.”
Kira gave her uncle an unamused stare.
“They left your tongue intact and took your sense of humour instead then?”
“Uncle.” Erani’s tone was firm.
“Hmm. No, we didn’t glean anything from them. But I don’t think it takes a mage to know Hoffnar is working with the elves of Lynalion. I’d bet the stones between my legs their end goal is to catch the Lorians in a pincer. Crush them from both sides while their lines are thinned. I can’t say I’m not happy about it. With any luck we’ll crush two roaches with one stone and they’ll all butcher each other.”
Kira nodded sombrely. Her uncle was a clever man and a ruthless warrior, but he had a tendency of seeing things plainly. If only the world were as simple as he saw it.
She lifted her hands and pressed her fingers into the creases of her eyes, exhaustion kicking at her, thoughts swirling. As much as she was loath to admit it, she would need sleep again shortly. She looked to Erani. “What about communication? Can we get word out? Aeson Virandr? The Draleid? Nimara and those sent with Dahlen Virandr? The Rolling Mountains? The Marin Mountains?”
One of the dwarves with the sigil of Volkur marked into his pauldron shook his head, gesturing at the map. “Hoffnar has locked down all of Lodhar. We’ve tried for the Southern Fold Gate and every pass we know of, even the ventilation shafts. Every attempt has ended in bloodshed. Any Wind Tunnel that comes anywhere close to the surface is guarded, the Wind Runners stationed there dismantled.”
“We’ve lost six navigators trying to send out messages.” Turim Arlan pressed his fingers into his cheeks, his green eyes meeting Kira’s gaze for only a fleeting moment. The man had always seen his navigators like his children, always taken such pride in each and every one of them. Kira could hear the loss in his voice.
“What about you, Erani?”
“What about me?”
“You entered the Freehold from the Rolling Mountains. Can we not send word out the same way you came in?”
Erani shook her head. The entire conversation seemed to be Erani shaking her head. “The guard was tripled after I slipped through, and with your escape that has since been doubled. Nothing leaves or enters this mountain without Hoffnar’s say.”
Kira closed her eyes for a moment, not bothering to guard the long sigh that left her throat. “Is there any good news? Anything at all?”
“We found Vindakur.”
“You what?”
“Would you like me to repeat myself, sister?”
Erani smiled at Kira’s scowl.
“Our scouts found an entrance two days ago just east of this outpost.” She gestured out the window to the flowers that jutted from cracks in the rock, emitting that yellow-gold light. “The Heraya’s Ward seems to shift colour in proximity to the city. “We’re currently working to unearth what appears to be a Portal Heart buried beneath the rubble. It’s delicate work. We have to be careful not to damage anything, but so far, we’ve exhumed two rings, one intact, one broken beyond repair.”
“Why didn’t you lead with this? If it truly is a Portal Heart, we may have found our access to the world outside.”
“Because it’s not that simple, dear sister. Hoffnar’s patrols are spreading wider since we broke you free. We must take every precaution not to lead them to the city. Besides, we still don’t know if the Portal Heart is operational. The chamber had collapsed in on itself. We found bodies amongst the rubble. Both dwarves and humans bearing the colours of Belduar, along with hundreds of kerathlin. By the looks of it, the city had become a nest. At least we now know what happened.”
Kira drew a long breath. She had seen dwarves torn to pieces by kerathlin in her earlier years, heard that click-clack reverberating through the tunnels, watched those black claws tear through flesh. It was a horrible way to die. “What of the nest now? Surely, you’re not recovering the Portal Heart with a swarm of kerathlin around you?”
“We’re not sure why, but every one of those horrid little bastards is gone. It’s almost as though something scared them away.”
“Or called them,” one of the Ozryn dwarves added. “There’s been rumblings of strange kerathlin movements throughout the Freehold. Outposts overrun, Wind Tunnels swarmed. It’s Hoffnar. The forge fires in Volkur are running day and night, and it’s not weapons or armour they’re producing. It’s giant bells – of a sort – built onto movable platforms.”
“Bells?” Kira did all she could to keep the scepticism from her voice, but it was a difficult thing to mask. “May I ask your name?”
“Drekker, Your Majesty. And I understand what it sounds like. But the kerathlin, as you know, are sensitive to sound. It’s how they move in the dark. It can’t be a coincidence. Hoffnar is scheming. And we would do well to know his plans."
“On that we most certainly agree, Drekker. If he is breathing, he is scheming. Erani?”
Kira’s sister nodded in agreement. “I can send word to our eyes and ears. But there is another thing that requires our attention also.”
Kira raised a curious eyebrow.
“It’s been centuries since any dwarf alive has laid eyes on Vindakur – or on a Portal Heart, for that matter. Even if we can unearth the remainder of the rings, we need someone who understands it. There is an old engineer we’ve tracked down. A scholar of Hafaesir. Without him we may never get the portals operational, or we may walk through them blindly without any understanding of what we are facing.”
“Then bring him here.”
“Wonderful idea, sister. Truly. I understand why you wear the crown… Actually, we’re going to have to get you a new crown – a task for another day. Unfortunately, as nothing in this life is ever simple or straightforward, the scholar in question – Rikber Lars – is Volkuran and resides deep within the city. I am already arranging his extraction, but much like that of the Portal Heart, it is a delicate matter. With any luck, once we place him in front of a genuine Portal Heart, his love for his scholarly endeavours will outweigh his allegiance to Hoffnar.”
“Hafaesir willing,” Kira replied.
After that, Erani and the others continued marking the maps, counting losses, and plotting raids. Kira stayed as long as her body would allow, but eventually sleep called to her.
When she finally awoke, she did so to find Oleg Marylin waiting outside her door.
The man sat atop a foldable chair with a journal in his hand, deep in thought, muttering to himself as his pen flitted across the paper. Two guards stood behind him, the purple cloaks of Belduar knotted at their shoulders.
Oleg almost leapt from his skin as Kira cleared her throat, pulling her deep crimson cloak tight around her shoulders. The man started, knocking his inkwell from the armrest and onto the ground, ink spilling across the stone.
“Gods.” He patted something invisible from his stained shirt, rising from the chair in a fluster. “I, ehm… I’ll have that cleaned. Ink comes out of stone, doesn’t it? I’m sure it does. It has to.”
The man was completely lost in his thoughts when Kira waved a hand. “There are slightly more pressing matters, Keeper Marylin.”
Oleg straightened himself at that, pulling his shoulders back, a flash of pride in the smile that touched his lips. “Quite right, Your Majesty. Quite right.”
The man had a way about him, a warmth. His smiles were always genuine. That was partly why he had been the perfect candidate to lead Belduar. He had something that Daymon had lacked: compassion over self-interest. Specifically, compassion for those he served.
Kira’s mother had been a harsh teacher, but she had always said a ruler needed three things: compassion, strength, and wisdom. Everything else could be gathered. But without compassion, a ruler was nothing more than a tyrant. Without strength, a head would soon become unacquainted with the neck. And without wisdom, strength and compassion were wasted.
By Kira’s measure, Oleg possessed all three, though he played a good part in hiding it, further showing his wisdom. “Kalik tells me you’ve been sitting out here for the better part of three hours.”
Oleg raised his eyebrows, then pulled a small timekeeper from beneath his shirt, brass chain jingling. He clicked open the face guard. “By Elyara, I suppose I have. None the matter, I’ve had much to do. No time wasted.”
“What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Well…” Oleg held up a finger, then looked back at his guard and nodded towards the chair and spilt ink. “Please, Captain Harnett, I’d be much obliged.” As the captain set about folding the chair, Oleg gestured towards the building given over to Kira’s use. “We can sit and talk, if it please. I’m sure your body is still recovering.”
“On the contrary, I’ve spent far too much time sitting within four walls. Walk with me. A little pain lets me know I’m alive.”
They walked in silence for a while around the outpost, both dismissing their guards.
“The journal,” Kira asked, inclining her head towards the black leather journal Oleg still clutched in his right hand.
“A record of those of us who are left…” He looked down at the journal, his expression growing sombre. “Nine thousand three hundred and forty-six in full health – mostly. Two thousand one hundred and eleven children in that number. Another three thousand two hundred and seventy-one injured, maimed, or ill. There are more alive, I’m sure, somewhere within the mountain. Some spies have given word that Hoffnar has prisoners, but the majority were executed. The early warning saved many of us… but far from all.”
“Oleg…” Kira didn’t have words. Before the Lorians had attacked Belduar, the city had been home to over two hundred thousand souls. Almost three quarters of that number had been evacuated to the Freehold. Near enough a hundred and twenty thousand. Hoffnar wasn’t fighting a war, he was committing genocide. Kira couldn’t help but think if she had done things differently, perhaps all of this could have been avoided. If she’d agreed to help retake Belduar… perhaps all those lives would not have been lost for nothing. Perhaps Elenya would still draw breath.
A sad smile that seemed more habit than anything else settled onto Oleg’s features. He shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. We’ve all made the mess that we’re floundering in. But what’s done is done, and we can only look forward as we flounder together.” Oleg tapped his thumb off the black leather. “You’ve always been clear and honest with me, my queen, and so I will be the same. Your sister has told me what the Portal Hearts can do. When we repair it – if we can repair it – I wish to send my people through. They’ve had enough hardship. Lost their homes, their loved ones… everything. I do not wish this mountain to become their tomb. Before you say anything, I will remain behind with Lumeera and half our fighting number. Near enough three thousand. Four hundred former Kingsguard. When Pulroan had us by the throat, you came. I would not have it said that we didn’t do the same. But I need to send the others through with the children, elderly, and infirm. They won’t survive otherwise. I’ll send them to Salme to rejoin with Dahlen and the others. I know it’s not what you would want, and by rights as your vassal, I should be asking rather than telling, but…”
“You’re doing what a strong leader should do. You’re looking after your people.” Kira stopped. Her legs begged for rest, but that was not why she stopped. “Oleg, there is no peace in what happens next. This mountain will run red. I cannot simply walk away after what has happened. I just can’t.” She licked her bottom lip, trying to decide how honest she wanted to be. “I don’t know if we can win… If you take every Belduaran through that Portal, I will hold no ill will. This mountain is my home. It’s all I know. If I die here, I die in the arms of my ancestors. If you die here, you’re just another corpse.”
Oleg had been the Belduaran emissary to the Freehold for almost twenty years. In that time, he’d always been polite, accommodating, and what her mother had described as ‘a little goofy’. Ankora had always had a soft spot for Oleg. And she didn’t have many soft spots. But the word ‘goofy’ had never seemed further from apt than that moment right then. The look in Oleg’s eyes was steel.
“Durakdur and Belduar have been allies since before my father’s time,” Oleg said, “and his before him, and so on, and so on. I will not be the one to break that bond. I’ve spoken to Lumeera, and she has spoken to the guard. Many of them have no family left. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters – all dead. Their closest friends – those not already dead – are the men and women at their sides. And all of them, every single one, lay the blame at Hoffnar’s feet. They want blood. They want vengeance. It’s all they have left.” Oleg twisted his mouth and for a second, Kira thought the man’s eyes would water. “I never married – as you and everyone else well knows. Not many women’s ideal man is one with a bald head, a patchy beard, too much bread around the waist, an attention span as fleeting as good luck, and a fixation on dwarves and everything dwarven. But when my brother’s heart gave out five years ago and his wife was taken by Heraya in the last famine, I took in my two nephews. Fourteen days ago, they were decapitated in Durakdur’s central plaza, taken prisoner while they played with my friend’s daughter. She wasn’t spared either, neither was her father. A hundred thousand Belduaran bones rest beneath this mountain. If I die here, I will die in the arms of my ancestors as well.”
That night, as Kira lay in her bed, footsteps echoed along the corridor and her sister entered the chamber, a glowing lantern of Heraya’s Ward in her hand.
Kira pushed herself upright in the bed, resting her back against the cool stone behind her. She gestured towards the chair by the wall. “Sit.”
“I’m fine standing.”
“If I told you to breathe, you’d suffocate yourself, wouldn’t you?”
“Likely. But if you asked nicely, I’d only suffocate you.”
Kira laughed, coughing as she did. Erani leaned against the wall, resting her lantern on the chair.
“The last few days are a blur. I’m not sure what I’ve said, but thank you… for coming for me.”
Erani stared at Kira in disbelief. “Do you honestly think I ever would have left you there? You’re my sister. You’re an arrogant, self-important kerathlin-fucker, and you said things you’re going to spend a long time apologising for, but you are my sister. My blood.”
“I don’t want a fight, Erani.”
“Well too fucking bad.” The gold and silver rings in Erani’s hair gleamed green and blue in the flowerlight as she pushed herself from the wall. For a moment, she looked as though she were about to launch into a tirade fit for the bards’ tales, but instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Kira’s knee. “My little sister. My only kin.”
“Well, there is uncle. And our three cousins.”
“Stop interrupting. I left. I stand by my leaving. I made strong allies in the Rolling Mountains. And after mother died, I just couldn’t look at Durakdur anymore. But I should have written, should have come back sooner. And for that I’m sorry.” Erani turned so she faced Kira fully. “But don’t ever even dream of a world in which I wouldn’t have come for you. If anyone is going to kill you, it’s me.” She paused for a moment then gave a dramatic head bow. “ My queen .”
“Understood.”
“Now, to what do I owe this summons?”
“There is a house in the western section of Durakdur.”
“There are many houses there, sister. This is not news.”
Kira glared at Erani but continued. “I need you to take me there.”
“Take you there? In this state? The pair of us just stroll through the streets of Durakdur while Hoffnar hunts our blood? I can ask Vikmar to send someone. What is it you need that’s so important?”
“No.” Kira pushed herself further up the bed and pulled her legs from beneath the sheets. “I’m not some broken doll.” She pressed her hands against the wall and stood. Her legs trembled beneath her as she rose, but that was more from exhaustion than anything else. “This must be you and I. Only us. It is too important to place our trust in any other.”
Erani stood slowly, searching Kira’s eyes. “What is it? What other secret have you kept from me?”
“Rockblood.”
“Virtukshit. That was all burned eight hundred years ago as part of the accords…” Her jaw slackened, head tilting to the right. “Wasn’t it?”
“King Baldrik was not a trusting dwarf. And the prominence of the bersekeer blood in our lines grew that distrust tenfold. We had the most to lose. He assumed the other kingdoms would betray the accords eventually, and so he kept a patch of Rockblood for when that day occurred. This knowledge is passed only from ruler to ruler through the rites of passage.”
Erani turned her head, shaking it as she stared over at the lantern of Heraya’s Ward. “Kira, the Rockblood almost destroyed us. It is known for generations.”
“And so you see now why it must be you and I. I will task Uncle with the testing of bersekeer blood. It runs in his veins as it does ours.” Kira rested her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Without this, Erani, we die. Our people die. I don’t want to fight just to reclaim my power. Who do you think Hoffnar will send in the vanguard of his war against the humans? It will be warriors of Durakdur, offered a chance at redeeming the honour that I blackened by butchering Elenya and Lakar. You know it to be true. I never wanted the crown. But now that I have it, I know I was meant for it. Because I will do anything to protect my people. I will give my life, my blood, my honour. I will not let him do this.”
“Are you sure this is the path you want to walk?”
Kira pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and nodded.
Erani pressed her forehead against Kira’s, hands clasping the sides of Kira’s head. “Then we will walk it together. Let me see what can be arranged.”