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

“No runes up there,” Arion pointed out.

“None here, either.” Suri gestured in a circle at their room, nothing but an observation deck with a wooden floor and a trap door in its center. An empty cask lay on its side in the far corner, surrounded by discarded cups, one of which had shattered. Someone had carved symbols into the wooden floor and even in the merlons, but the marks were profanities instead of runes.

“If there were, we couldn’t do our job, now could we?”

“And we just have to hide the archers?”

“Actually, I’m going to do that,” Arion said. “You’re just going to watch.”

Suri narrowed her eyes, puzzled. “If the Spiders can join their power, why can’t we?”

“Oh, we could. I just don’t want to.”

Suri felt a sting of rejection.

“Don’t look so hurt,” Arion said with a frown. She took Suri’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I just don’t want them to know about you.”

Suri liked the warmth of her fingers and was reminded of how long it had been since she had enjoyed the comfort of hugging Minna. Few things in the world were as good as plowing her face into white fur and feeling the beating heart within. Touch—physical contact—was more important than it seemed, but such things were never evident until they were lost.

Suri looked again at the sky and, remembering the lightning bolts in the forest, asked, “Should we go down a floor? Feels a little exposed here.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Hiding the archers is a very small thing. With all the siphoning they’re doing, they won’t notice.”

“You weren’t doing anything when you stood next to Magda.”



“True, but I also wasn’t paying attention. That’s where you come in.” Arion smiled and gave her hairless brows a mischievous quiver.

Strange that Arion was in such a good mood considering what was about to happen. Suri sensed a dullness between them, a wall of separation. Arion was visible to her eyes, but not to the Art. She was shielding herself against the forces of the fane, a prudent measure, but she was also blocking Suri. Maybe it was all one and the same, yet Suri suspected those cheery eyes and the whimsical smile were another veil hiding Arion’s true feelings.

“Where I come in?” Suri asked.

“You’ll be able to tell if they pinpoint me. You’ll feel it. When they focus, it will be like the hairs on your neck will stand. Hard to miss, really. If you feel that, shield us. Just throw up a block like I taught you. Keep it tight and it ought to be able to resist them long enough for me to help. And if we must, we can run down the stairs to the safe room at the bottom.” She was referring to the base of the tower that had Orinfar runes ringing it. Suri didn’t like passing through that area, which felt like she was underwater. She couldn’t feel the world the way she normally did until she climbed up above the safe room. “And if you feel your shield weaken, jump down, you understand? Don’t wait for me.”

“Why would I wait for you?” She grinned. Suri could play the unconcerned game, too.

Stepping to the edge of the tower, Suri looked down. The gate was open and the first of their soldiers began to pour out onto the bridge. “What about the bridge? Won’t they destroy it?”

“How would they get in here, then?”

Suri thought a moment. “What if they don’t want to get in here? What if they just want us all dead?”

This caused Arion to pause. She looked unsure, then said, “Let’s hope that’s not the case.”



* * *





The sun was rising as Raithe led the men of the First Spear out of the bronze gates and across the Grandford Bridge. Looked like any other day—better even. Things he would normally take for granted all screamed for his attention: the way the light was so bright and golden, how dew glistened on everything in fine droplets, the blueness of the sky, and the warm and fragrant air. The little things were saying goodbye.



Raithe walked at the head of the army as any good chieftain should. The first target, the first casualty—these were the risks associated with privilege. Raithe had never gotten the lodge or the feasts, he only had a clan of one, maybe two—he still didn’t know where Malcolm fit—but this privilege of being first in battle he had received often, at least since he had arrived in Dahl Rhen.

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