Okay, what else should I mention? Oh, I know. If it has been awhile since you’ve read the other books and you want to catch up, you’ll find recaps under the Bonus Material menu of The Legends of the First Empire website: firstempireseries.com/book-recaps. I should note that reading these shouldn’t be necessary, because I’ve put in little reminders about essential facts from previous events. These are not lengthy dissertations, just little memory joggers. Also, keep in mind that each book has an extensive spoiler-free glossary of terms and names. So if you forgot who Konniger is, you could look him up in this book’s glossary. What you’ll find will be different than the entry in Age of Myth, because it’ll reflect what is known up to this point in the overall story, but you’ll not find anything that’ll ruin this book. I should note that there are a few entries that will be left out of the Age of War glossary, for instance, the name Turin. Why? Because there just isn’t any way to write a spoiler-free entry for that. However, if you look it up in a future edition of Age of Legend, you’ll be reminded why that name is important. Bottom line, if you want further memory refreshers, go ahead and skim through the glossary.
Well, I think that’s plenty for now, except to say that I’ve greatly appreciated receiving all the amazing emails, so please keep them coming to [email protected]. As I’ve said before, it’s never a bother hearing from readers—it’s an honor and a privilege. So now that the preamble is over, I’d like to invite you back to an age of myths and legends, to a time when mankind was known as Rhunes and elves were believed to be gods. In this particular case, allow me to take you to the Age of War.
CHAPTER ONE
The Road to War
Life had been the same for hundreds of years. Then the war came, and nothing was ever the same again.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
Suri the mystic talked to trees, danced to the sound of wind chimes, hated bathing, howled at the moon, and had recently leveled a mountain, wiping out centuries of dwarven culture in an instant. She had done so mostly out of grief, but partly out of anger. A dwarf had been insensitive after the death of Suri’s best friend. He should have been more sympathetic, but during the days since it happened, Suri had come to realize she could have shown more restraint. Perhaps merely setting Gronbach on fire or having the earth swallow the vile wretch would have been a better choice. Neither option had occurred to her at the time, and an entire civilization had suffered. It had been a bad day for everyone.
Nearly a week later, Suri woke in a field amidst salifan, ragwort, and meadow thistle, the sun peeking over distant hills. Golden shafts made diamonds of dewdrops and revealed the labor of a thousand spiders who had cast nets between blades of grass. Having spent the night outside, Suri, too, was soaked and a bit chilled, but the sun’s kiss promised to make everything better. She sat in the dew, the sun on her face, and stared at the fields surrounding the seaside dahl, listening to the faint hum of bumblebees as they began their morning’s work. Then a butterfly flew across her sight and ruined everything.
Suri began to cry.
She didn’t bow her head. Keeping her face to the sunlight, she let the tears roll down her cheeks, spilling onto the grass, adding to the dew. Her little body hitched and shuddered. Suri cried until she was out of tears, but the pain still tore at her heart. Eventually, she merely sat in the field, shoulders stooped, arms limp, fingers reaching out for the warm fur that wasn’t there.
Since returning from across the sea, most days started this way. Mornings offered a tiny respite from the pain, but before long she remembered, and reality crashed in. Then the sky became less blue, the sun not nearly as bright, and not even the flowers could make her smile. And there was one more loss left to face. Arion was dying.
“Suri!”
She was slow to react, slow to realize it was her name being called. Somewhere behind her, the grass rustled and feet thumped. The rapid tempo of those footfalls indicated it could only be one person, and that meant just one thing.
“Suri!” Brin called again.
The mystic didn’t bother to turn. Didn’t want to see—didn’t want to face—
“She’s awake!” Brin shouted this time.
Suri spun.
“Her eyes are open.” Brin was running, plunging through the tall grass, soaking her skirt.
Every muscle in Suri’s body came alive. She sprang up like a startled deer and sprinted past Brin, racing toward the road. In no time she reached the tent Roan had built specifically for the Miralyith. When Suri burst in, Arion was still on the pallet, but her eyelids fluttered. Padera was helping her sit up to drink.