Age of War (The Legends of the First Empire #3)

The kel smiled and shook his head. “Poor situational awareness.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mawyndul? pushed back against the short rail. He felt trapped. Before him, the nasty old man was grinning with malevolence; behind him, the roar of the falls proved more frightening when he couldn’t see it. Jerydd, feeble as he was, appeared dangerous as he blocked the way back inside.

He fell, my fane. Sometimes people do that. And as we both know, your son wasn’t the brightest star in the heavens.

Yes, Mawyndul? has always been a disappointment. Let’s not waste any more time on him. How about another cup of that marvelous wine and maybe a strawberry?

“Your mastery of the Art has been stunted,” Jerydd said. “If you were one of my students—and you will be—you’d have known I was coming before I arrived.”

“So you can tell the future, too?”

He’s blocking the exit on purpose. I’d have to push him aside to get by. I’d have to touch him. Mawyndul? had no desire to be in the same world as Jerydd; he certainly wasn’t going to touch him. Mawyndul? slid his hands along the little wall of the balcony. Maybe I can climb down. The stone was polish-smooth and even at that height still damp from the mist. He might as well have been leaning on ice.

“I can do many things. Gryndal could, too. Did you know he could see what was happening hundreds of miles away? It’s called clairvoyance. Even Fenelyus couldn’t do that.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Gryndal was far better than—”

“Don’t even think of finishing that thought.” Jerydd stepped out onto the balcony with a raised hand.

Mawyndul? remembered how Gryndal had exploded the Rhune with a snap of his fingers and froze.

“Gryndal had some promise, some talent, but he was consumed by his own arrogance. I gave up on him years ago.”

“Gave up?”

“I taught him the Art.”



“You taught Gryndal? My father said he went to the academy. Said he learned from my brother.”

Jerydd smiled. “You’ll find many teachers over the course of your life, Mawyndul?. So did Gryndal. He did indeed attend the Art school, but, just as with you, I offered to take over his instruction. Being smarter than you, he thanked me for the opportunity. And after I gave up on him, he found another mentor.”

“Who?”

“The same one who taught Fenelyus.”

Mawyndul? narrowed his eyes. No one taught Fenelyus. She invented the Art. My father said so. He’s just boasting, trying to sound important.

Jerydd shook his head. “You’re too much like Gryndal. I can see the imprint he placed on you, but I can’t see why. He was using you for something, but what?”

“Gryndal was my teacher.”

The kel laughed. “Gryndal had no interest in teaching anyone anything. He had one goal—power. That’s why he came to me for instruction, and why he left me for what he believed to be a better teacher. Power had always been his goal, and somehow you were part of that path for him. I just can’t see how.” He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. The Fhrey is dead, consumed in the fires of his own arrogance, his plans gone with him. My task will be to fix you. Normally, I wouldn’t bother.” He waved at Mawyndul? with a dismissive gesture. “Hardly any raw material to work with, but you are the prince, and that gives you a shot at the throne. Through no virtue other than your birth, you’ll have a chance to be fane. I owe it to Ferrol and our people to at least try and make a worthy Fhrey of you.”

“I’m not broken.”

“Ah, but you are, and in oh-so-many ways. Luckily, you have hundreds of years to make up for lost time.”

“And you’re going to teach me?”

Jerydd smiled. “You think learning from me will be boring—a bunch of dull exercises like those they drill into you at school, eh? What do you say we start our first lesson right now?”



Mawyndul? sensed a vague threat in that suggestion. First lesson: I’ll throw you over that railing, and you can learn to fly!

“Sorry, my father says we’re marching this morning. He’s in a hurry to kill some people, and I get to watch.”

Jerydd nodded, that smile stretching wider on his old shriveled lips. “How would you like to do more than watch? Your father tells me you hated your old teacher. She stopped you from exacting justice after Gryndal’s death. You want to punish her for that, don’t you?”

“She’s a traitor. She should die. That’s the law.”

“Yes, yes, the law, of course. But how would you like to be the one to enforce it? To be the one to execute her?”

Mawyndul? stared at the withered old man. The wind wafting in updrafts flapped his pale cloak and blew several strands of white hair against the grain.

“What are you saying?”

“You were right last night. I failed to kill her as your father ordered. I won’t make the same mistake twice, but I’m a little too old for extended travel.” He gestured up at the tower rising behind them. “As you can feel, this is an extremely powerful source. From here, I can launch an attack on Alon Rhist if I wish.”

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