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

“We’re going back to Dahl Rhen, right?” Malcolm asked. “I don’t remember walking downhill at any point when we were on our way to the oak.”

Persephone paused and turned around. “You’re right; we didn’t.”

They were in the middle of an endless group of trees that were different from the ones Raithe remembered passing through earlier.

“We should have turned off the ridge at some point, I think,” Malcolm said.

The world beneath the canopy was darkening. The conifers blocked more sun than the hardwoods but not enough to account for the growing gloom. The piercing shafts of sun were gone, night was coming, and it was already hard to tell where one tree stopped and another began.

“I suppose we should head back to where we started going up again, then—” Persephone was interrupted by a not-too-distant howl.

“Do you think that’s Minna?” Malcolm asked, his voice concerned but hopeful.

“Came from the other way,” Persephone replied. “Out there.” She nodded her head at the forest to their left.

Another howl echoed from slightly to the right of the first.

“Maybe we should go this way.” Persephone walked briskly in the opposite direction of the howls. Raithe followed after her with Malcolm in tow.

Soon they were skidding down a steep slope, plowing through brown needles still damp from a recent rain. The deeper they went, the darker the forest grew. Near the bottom, the air became noticeably cooler, and the floor of the forest was green with ferns. They waded into a grove of knee-high fiddleheads, where they discovered a creek.

“Is this the stream that goes to the cascade?” Persephone asked.

“Maybe,” Malcolm replied. His voice sounded strained.

Persephone followed the flow of water downhill. They trudged onward, but nothing looked familiar.

Howls continued, closer than before. Down off the ridge, the eerie sounds bounced off tree trunks and echoed back. Raithe couldn’t determine where the howls came from, but he was certain of one thing—there was more than one.

Persephone picked up their pace as they continued downhill through brush and over stones. With each step, it seemed the world grew darker and the forest changed. Evergreens transformed into black curtains; scattered birches became slender, staring ghosts. Rocks and boulders hidden in shadows took on the shapes of crouching animals waiting to pounce. In the growing dark, he felt closed in, blinded and trapped by the closeness of the trees.

“I’m not sure I know where we are,” Persephone told them while pausing beside the creek.

“I don’t think any of us does,” Malcolm said.

Persephone rubbed her arms. “Well, at this point I’m—” She stopped.

Movement. Creeping figures emerged from the undergrowth.

Three wolves, all black, with sharp, white teeth snarled through curled lips. The trio came out slowly, too slowly.

“Get behind me,” Raithe ordered, drawing the Fhrey sword and backing up.

Malcolm clutched the spear in front of him. “Just point and stick, right?”

Before Raithe could answer, Persephone screamed. He whirled around in time to see another wolf rush up from behind. Her shriek frightened the animal. It skidded to a halt. Raithe swung, but the wolf retreated out of range.

“Take my shield.” Raithe pulled the wooden board off his back and handed it to Persephone.

More wolves approached. Raithe saw ferns quivering all around them. This was a large pack, more than a dozen.

“Put your backs to each other!” Raithe shouted. “Stay close. Don’t run.”

The wolves closed to within a few feet, swarming, circling; their tongues hung and dripped. The bravest, a big black wolf with some gray in its coat, inched closer. It snapped, then darted back when Raithe swung. This generated a round of loud yipping.

“Dammit!” Malcolm shouted, missing his wolf, which had darted in at the same time.

Persephone was the first to land a solid blow. Using the edge of the shield, she struck one hard on the snout, causing the animal to yelp and scuttle away. Another wolf lunged at Raithe. He was ready and caught fur, maybe a bit more. The animal yelped.

The pack looped around them in a constantly moving circle. Then, abruptly, one would dart in, snarling and snapping. The lunges and feints caused their tiny triangle to shift. Uneven ground hidden beneath ferns caused Raithe to stumble more than once. If he fell—if any of them did—the wolves would be on them. One deep bite and the smell of blood would put the pack into a frenzy. Bloodlust would overpower fear, and they’d attack as a group. That would end it. Raithe was certain he could kill two, maybe three, but the wolves would win.

“Ah-rou! Ah-rou!” A howl echoed in the forest.

A pair of lights darted through the trees. The flickers appeared, vanished, and then reappeared, closer.

“Ah-rou! Ah-rou!”

The wolves hesitated, backed up, and turned toward the noise—a howl not made by any wolf. Then the lights burst out of the forest. With a torch in each hand, Suri raced at the wolves, leaping fallen trees and running along their trunks. She sprang over ferns and ran straight for the thickest part of the pack, howling, barking, and swinging the torches. The pack scattered in a panic, splitting apart to let her pass.

“Follow me!” she shouted, racing by.

The three of them didn’t hesitate. They turned and chased the mystic through the trees. The pack followed, the leader spearheading the pursuit.

“Keep running. Follow the stream!” Suri shouted as she slowed and dropped to the rear. Raithe stayed back with her as Persephone and Malcolm raced on.

The big black wolf with the splash of gray charged. Ignoring Raithe, it went straight for Suri, who stood her ground and waved torches to no avail. The leader neither stopped nor slowed and launched its full weight at the girl.

A flash of white shot out of the darkness. Minna caught the pack leader in midair and bore him to the ground where the two rolled apart. Before the lead wolf could get up, Suri was on it, stabbing with the torch’s fiery end.

The black wolf yelped and fled, its singed fur smoking.

“Ha-ha!” Suri shouted before darting off again.

Raithe followed her, struggling to keep up with the lithe girl as she and Minna sprinted, splashing through the little stream. Persephone and Malcolm stood in a patch of moonlight, looking back.

“There’s a drop!” Persephone shouted to them, pointing down at the edge of the cliff they stood on. “Oh, Grand Mother of All! It’s a waterfall!”

“Jump!” Suri called.

“What?”

“Jump!”

Raithe slowed as he neared the drop. Suri didn’t. Together, the mystic and her wolf leapt off the edge. As she fell, as she disappeared from sight, Suri let out a loud whoop!

The wolves were still after them. Barks, yips, and growls filled the forest. Persephone and Malcolm looked back at Raithe, both wide-eyed.

“Better than being eaten,” Malcolm said, and surprised Raithe by being the first of the three to jump.

“Oh, Grand Mother, be with me,” Persephone prayed, and she, too, leapt.

Raithe looked over the edge, but in the growing darkness all he saw was a cloud of moon-kissed mist rising from blackness. The wolves closed in, growling. They knew the ledge was there and slowed their approach. Six animals fanned out in a semicircle, teeth bared, saliva seething from their mouths.

“Oh, Tetlin’s Witch!” Raithe turned and followed the others.

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