Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire #1)

Persephone was another matter.

He couldn’t decide about her. She was attractive for her age; he guessed her to be about ten years older than himself. But she had been a chieftain’s wife, the worst sort of woman, and he hadn’t liked the way she’d tried to manipulate him. Using others was the way of those who slept in lodges. They thought nothing of deciding the lives of others. Then there were the three men who had tried to kill her. That sort of thing didn’t happen by accident. If people wanted you dead, there was likely a reason. Also, she had acted stupidly on the cascade, risking her life for a man who had tried to kill her. Still, it showed more decency than he would have expected, which gave him pause. So did the fact that she’d spoken to him—a Dureyan—with respect. Such behavior would have been unusual from a farmer’s wife, but she had been married to a chieftain and lived in a wealthy dahl. Although it was easy to assume her actions were designed to beguile, there was a genuineness about her. Raithe was far from worldly and no expert when it came to the ways of powerful women, but he’d always been able to tell the wolves that would bite from the ones that wouldn’t.

“Minna?” Suri raised her brows when the wolf settled next to Raithe, nuzzling his leg. “That’s no way to act. You just met him.”

“She’s friendly.” Raithe bent down and scrubbed the wolf’s coat.

“No, she’s not, are you, Minna?” Suri smirked at the wolf, then shrugged. “Okay, from here follow the ridge back the way you came.”

Persephone, who was still staring back at the old oak, turned sharply. “Wait. You’re not coming with us?”

The mystic shook her head. “No, ma’am. I live over that way.” She pointed through the blur of trees.

“But…” Persephone said, confused. “I thought you came to the dahl to stay.”

“Did you hear that, Minna? She’s a strange one. We only came to tell you the news. Then there was the whole business of waiting on the trees to wake up, but that’s done. You have your answer, so we can go home.”

Suri took a few bounding steps, causing Minna to leap from Raithe’s side and chase after her. This made the girl grin. “Still likes me best!” She took two more steps, then stopped and looked up at the sky. “Better be quick, ma’am. Night appears to be in an awful hurry.”

Then, without so much as a wave, the girl ran off, the wolf chasing her through the trees.

“Ah, good…bye,” Persephone called after her. “And thank you.” She continued to stare until the mystic vanished, swallowed by the green.

Persephone looked back at the big oak, and said, “That’s it? I nearly die and all I get are riddles? Not even good ones.” Raithe wasn’t certain if she was speaking to him, the tree, or herself. Taking a breath, she sighed. Unfolding Raithe’s leigh mor, she pulled it over her head like a hood and walked forward. “This way, I guess.”

Raithe followed Persephone through the trees. Malcolm had been slow to join them, lingering a while longer by himself.

“If we hurry, we can have a hot meal,” Persephone said, following the faint trail they had made in the grass on the way in. “You two like mutton? Sarah is working her way through a ewe Delwin butchered. I’ve lived with them since my husband’s death, and I’m sure you’d be welcomed. She’s down to the shank, which isn’t the best, but—”

“It sounds like a holiday feast,” Malcolm said, running to catch up.

“I take it you’re hungry.”

“Famished, good lady, famished. We’ve been living on a sparse diet of nuts, mushrooms, and the rare squirrel or rabbit, which between us doesn’t amount to much more than a bite or two.”

Back up on the ridge they traveled in a line, their feet plowing loudly through dead leaves. The light cut through the gaps at a sharp angle. Trunks and plants were splashed with brilliant gold, and long shadows stretched out from the base of every tree.

“I’ve heard of your husband,” Raithe told Persephone as he walked behind her. “They say he was old.”

She nodded. “Over sixty years.”

“But you’re not so old.”

“Thank you.” Persephone glanced back at him with a curious look. “I think.”

“I’m just saying your husband was a lucky man. Not only did he live a long time, but he was blessed with a young wife.”

She laughed—a nice sound. “I’ve not known Dureyan men to be so charming.”

“Ha!” Malcolm scoffed.

Persephone turned to peer at the slender man marching along at the rear of their parade. “Why do you laugh?”

“Raithe isn’t what most would describe as charming.”

“How would you know?” Raithe asked.

“I’ve been with you night and day for who knows how long now, and you’ve never struck me as charming.”

“You’re not a beautiful woman,” Raithe replied.

“Beautiful?” Persephone said. “Charming or not, you are certainly most kind, but there must be a terrible shortage of girls in Dureya if you—” Persephone froze in place, and her hand flew to her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…I…” She bit her lower lip in agony.

Malcolm looked at Raithe with a bewildered expression as the three stood listening to the wind in the leaves.

When she didn’t say anything else, Raithe asked, “What?”

She stared at him a moment longer as embarrassment slowly shifted to surprise. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Dureya—the Fhrey.” She shook her head, her hand still lingering over her lips. “They destroyed Dureya and we think Nadak as well.”

Raithe stared at her, puzzled. People often said things that didn’t make sense. Those who talked a lot were the most prone to the practice. Words spilled out of their mouths with little thought behind them. Persephone might be one of those. But she didn’t seem the sort to lie, and there would be no point in making up such a thing. “What are you talking about?”

Persephone looked to Malcolm for help, but he remained silent, leaning on his spear. “A group of men from Nadak came to Rhen. They said they saw it themselves. The Fhrey killed everyone.” Then, more quietly, she added, “They burned the villages as well as the dahl.”

“The Fhrey did that?” Raithe asked, trying to picture such a thing in his mind. The gods had never attacked Dureya before, but he found it disturbingly easy to imagine. He looked to Malcolm. “Is this possible? Would they do that?”

“I…I expected them to come after us, not your people. But I suppose it’s possible.”

“How many villages? Which ones?” Raithe asked Persephone.

His question made her cringe. “All of them. The report I heard said…” She frowned.

“What?”

“They found no survivors. None. You might be the last living Dureyan.”

She said more after that, but Raithe had stopped listening. Malcolm spoke, as well, but Raithe walked away. He had a vague sense of trudging down the ridge with them following. He wanted to think, needed to think, but couldn’t. Once, when Herkimer had been training Raithe, he was struck in the head with a wooden mallet. He’d collapsed but was still conscious, his father looming above. Herkimer yelled, but Raithe couldn’t hear. The words were faint and muffled, Raithe’s thoughts lost in a fog. That’s how he felt now. The world had stopped, and when it started again, his first thought was that Persephone must be mistaken. Dureya couldn’t be gone. As poor as they were, his people numbered in the thousands. They lived in hundreds of settlements from the Forks to the High Spear Valley. They couldn’t all be gone.

Why would anyone destroy a place as insignificant as Clempton?

“Raithe, do you know where you’re going?” Malcolm asked.

Raithe stopped. They still traveled along the ridge, but the hardwood trees had given way to spruce and cedar as the three plodded uphill.

“Are you all right?” Persephone asked.

“I’m fine.”

She looked at Raithe for a long moment as if she were going to offer a dissenting opinion.