The corners of Eldur’s lips twisted into a smile, lines spreading forth like fine cracks in stone. “My blessing. What blessing is this?”

“I seek…I seek only what I am owed. My own people…I have been betrayed, Great Father. By rights I was to sit the Eagle Chair of Aram, to rule the Duchy of Aramatia…”

Laughter cut him off. “The rule of the duchy? What use is such a rule, Elio Krator, when all will be bathed in flame?”

The sunlord went pale as milk. Sweat leaked from his brow and glistened on his neck. “I was told…I understood that…” He looked at the High Priest, who smiled that sly smile of his and stepped forward. A great red prong of beard twisted from his chin like a horn.

“Never fear, Sunlord,” his voice slithered. “Great Eldur speaks only of the test that awaits all man. The flame is symbolic. It is a state of peril in which we all will live, yet a man like you…a warrior like you…oh, I think you could do very well.”

The weak will be the feast and fodder for the strong, thought the old scholar Sotel Dar. He was weak himself, old and frail, no fighter, no warrior, and his own time was near. He held no fear of it. Death had been a cold breath at the nape of his neck for many years now, yet he had lived long enough to see the Father rise. It was more than he could ever have asked for. The great honour and pride of his life.

“The duchy was only a…a first step,” Elio Krator said. His eyes flittered nervously to Eldur again. “It is the rule of the empire I truly seek.”

The High Priest spoke again. “You must listen more carefully, Krator. You must open your ears. The duchy is of no significance, nor this empire you wish to rule. All kingdoms and nations and empires will fall, to become broken husks, borderless, filled with fallen cities and burning forts. There is too much life, the All-Father decrees, too much life and gluttony and greed, too much excess and overindulgence. The beauty of bare rock has been spoiled. It is mined and tilled and built upon, so more women can whelp men of scant worth. Some are worthy, and the worthy will fight on, clashing in the smoking ruin that this world will become. And in the clash, in the chaos, true joy will be found. That joy can be yours, Krator. For what little time you have.”

The sunlord did not seem to know what to say to that. He swallowed, the apple in his throat struggling up and down, then turned to face Eldur, tumbling before him in genuflection. “Great Eldur, I wish only to serve you,” he declared pitifully. “Grant me but a…a portion of your strength, and I will overthrow Empress Vesper and take the empire in your name. I vow it, my lord. I will muster all Lumara’s strength and march it upon the north. Together, my lord, we shall…”

“Together?” the voice whispered. “Together, did you say?”

The sunlord shrank back. “No, my lord. Great Eldur, no. I only meant…”

Eldur moved his red eyes. At once men came forth, a pair of dragonknights striding from behind to snatch Elio Krator by the arms. He struggled and gave a cry as they tugged him to one side of the bridge, wrenching his arms back behind him, thrusting his upper body over the edge. His men stirred, and one stepped forward, but a dragonknight came in behind him, pressing a spear through the small of his back to burst out through his belly with an explosion of bone and blood. Others shouted out and went to draw their blades but were skewered and stabbed with violent thrusts, some tripping as they were driven over the edge to tumble down into the molten rivers below, devoured in Agarath’s blood.

Krator was screaming all the while, his eyes strained and bulging as he stared down into the abyss. The fat Sunrider Mar Malaan had dropped to the floor, curling into a sphere of sweatstained silk as he sobbed into his fleshy knees. Sotel Dar watched it all impassively from his place beside the Fire Father’s throne. He even smiled at what he saw. Fools, he thought. They were fools to have come here.

“Together, did you say?”

The two dragonknights yanked Elio Krator back from the edge and turned him again to face the Founder. They thrust him to his knees and stood either side of him as his men were slain behind. “Please…my lord. Great Eldur, I never meant…”

Eldur raised a hand to silence him, and at once the slaughter stopped. His fingers were long, pale, sharp-nailed, almost like claws. In a crook of the crown-throne the Soul of Agarath throbbed and pulsed atop his black staff, the colours swirling, shifting. Directly above it, thousands of metres high, the great black fume of clouds was flashing red as Agarath the All-Father watched on, approving. Dragons screeched as they moved through the smog, sometimes diving down through the great mouth of the volcano, their voices echoing, exulting as they twisted and flew between the pillars of smoke. One plunged low, causing cloaks to flutter as he swept past, calling out in a voice only Eldur could understand. What it said made the Fire Father nod. “He is waking,” he whispered, speaking almost to himself. “I wonder…who will he seek out first?” His eyes looked into his master’s soul and he seemed to see the answer. Whatever it was, it made him smile. Then he looked again at Krator and said, “You came here on your sunwolf, I am told.”

The sunlord nodded, desperate. “Yes, Great Lord. We all…all of us…” He glanced back. His men were all dead, save Mar Malaan and three others, who had been thrust down to their knees with spearpoints at their necks. “We rode our sunwolves and starcats,” he murmured. “We travelled a…a long way to be here.”

“His name. Your wolf.”

“Braccaro, my lord.”

“I would like you to bring him to me,” Eldur said.

A pause. Krator shuddered, terror-filled, and raised his eyes. “Please, my lord, he…he is a good wolf. My men…punish my men for my insolence, and me…even me…but him…please…”

“You misunderstand. I wish to help you.”

“H-help me…?” he repeated, uncertain. He blinked and stared. “I…I don’t…”

“You came to serve. You seek to bring the empire to its knees, and rule in my name.” Malice twinkled in the Fire Father’s pupil-less gaze. “Then you will need a steed suited to this task, child. Sunwolves are small…noble creatures, but weak. I will make Braccaro…stronger, for you.” He gestured with a pale palm and his clawed fingers flicked. “Rise.”

Krator rose, and the two tall dragonknights behind him drew back, red cloaks rippling. The screech of dragons filled the great chamber and somewhere far off, long leagues away, Sotel Dar could hear the distant thunder of a waking roar, the yawning of a dread-god rising. He smiled at the sound, and ignored the voice inside him that was screaming and crying out a warning, a voice locked deep within. This world will end, he thought, as Agarath wills it. It must end and be renewed. I know that now.

“Now come here, child,” the Fire Father hissed, signalling for Elio Krator to approach the stair. “Come here and whisper to me this name. Up, up the stair. Come and speak it in my ear.”

Trembling, Krator scaled the steps, one and then another, until he stood right there before him. A pale hand reached out and draped itself over the sunlord’s feathered shoulder. He pulled him in, and turned his head to listen. There was a flutter of white hair as the words whispered through Krator’s lips. Then a smile, slowly forming, twisting on the Father’s face.

He looked out at his subjects. “Find her,” he said.

THE END

The Bladeborn Saga will continue in Book 7 - coming soon!

If you’d be so kind as to leave a review or rating for this book, that would be hugely appreciated. I truly value the support and feedback. Many thanks for reading this far!

WHAT’S NEXT?

Thank you as always for continuing this journey with me. I sincerely hope you’re enjoying the tale as it rumbles towards its conclusion.

When will that conclusion be? Well, I have said all along that I anticipate either 7 or 8 books to complete this saga, and I can say with some confidence (though not utter certainty) that it’s likely to be the latter at this point. Eight books for the eight deaths of Eldur, perhaps? I rather like the ring to that.

I found this book troublesome to write at times, a natural symptom of having so many characters and plots to wrangle and pull together, and have moved home twice while writing it which has been somewhat disruptive. Though settled now in my long-term abode I don’t doubt that the following books will prove similarly irksome as I try to conjure a thrilling climax and herd all these cattle into position for the finale.

It’s quite the herd by now too. A dozen POV characters, occasionally chopping and changing, scores of major characters swirling around them, hundreds more minor characters in the circle beyond that. A larger cast than I ever anticipated, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s always been my dream to pen an epic saga like this and I’m grateful for the growing fanbase it’s gathering. So thank you for that. Your loyalty and support mean the world to me, and I will do my damnedest to make absolutely certain that the story gets the denouement you deserve.

So, when can you expect book 7? Alas I am loathe to give anything other than very vague estimates, but right now I’d hope for a fall/autumn release, with book 8 following in spring 2025. If I really get my fingers a-tappin and the juices flowing who knows, perhaps I can squeeze that timeline, but right now those would be my guesses.

In the meantime, do check out my other works if you haven’t already. They are not epic fantasy, but if you have an interest in shorter dystopian novels, read on for details below…

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ALSO BY T. C. EDGE

THE ENHANCED SERIES (MAIN SERIES):

The Enhanced (Book One)

Hybrid (Book Two)