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

—

Persephone watched as fear ripped through those gathered. All eyes turned to their chieftain, but Konniger didn’t inspire confidence. He stared at the gate and swallowed hard.

“Turning at the crossroad!” Cobb shouted from his perch on the wall beside the gate. “Definitely coming this way.”

“What do we do?” Bergin the Brewer asked. He twisted the dirty towel in his hands.

Even Tressa looked to her husband expectantly, but Konniger didn’t move, didn’t speak.

“How many are there?” Persephone shouted across the dahl.

“Nine,” Cobb yelled back. “Well, there’s seven gods and two…other things.”

“What do we do?” Tressa whispered to her husband.

The chieftain ran a hand over his mouth. He looked left and then right, breathing heavily.

“Konniger, you need to go out there,” Persephone said. “Meet them on the road before they reach the dahl. Talk to them. I’ll come with you to translate.”

Konniger looked at her then. She expected anger, a seething glare; maybe he would hit her now. Persephone would have preferred a slap to what he gave, a terrified bewildered expression.

He thinks we’re already dead.

“I’ll do no such thing.” Konniger shook his head. “That would be suicide. Our walls are thick and our gate strong. We’ll be safe here.”

Persephone searched the crowd and found Malcolm. She came down from the steps and grabbed him by the arm. “Will the walls hold them?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Your walls are made of wood. Even stone would only slow them down.”

Persephone looked out at the faces. Mothers took the hands of children, their heads turning back and forth between the gate and Konniger. Husbands held their wives close, and tears formed in the eyes of many as hope faded. They all began to understand that their chieftain wouldn’t save them.

There are things beyond the control of men, and the will of the gods is one of them.

“They’re at the grazing line,” Cobb shouted, his voice starting to shake.

Persephone turned away from Malcolm and focused on Raithe. He stood on the steps, one hand still on his sword. He was big, his shoulders broad, his face stern.

God Killer.

“Everyone!” she shouted, climbing back up the steps. “Listen to me. This is Raithe of Dureya. The God Killer!” She looked at him, trying to determine their chances in his expression. He was definitely angry, maybe even furious, but she saw no fear.

“Cobb says there’s nine of them. How many did you fight last time?” Persephone asked Raithe.

He didn’t answer.

“Thirteen,” Brin said. “According to the stories, he faced Shegon and twelve of his men. After he defeated the leader, all the others fled.”

“Fewer this time. Can you do it again?” Persephone asked.

Raithe exchanged a hard look with Malcolm. “There’s a big difference between that story and what really happened.”

“Perhaps, but if they plan on repeating what happened at Dureya, then you’ll die with us,” she said.

“You’re sure the gate won’t hold them?” Raithe asked Malcolm.

“No more than a garden fence.”

“So there really isn’t a choice, is there?” Raithe sighed in resignation. “Tell them to open the gate.”

“No!” Konniger came to life. “You can’t let them in!”

“Didn’t you listen?” Gifford said, hopping forward and leaning on the crutch Roan had made. “They’ll smash the gate.” He looked at Malcolm with his squinted eye. “Maybe being gods they might just tell it to walk away and up it will go.”

“We have the God Killer,” Brin said. A smile bloomed across her face. Hers was the only one. “They’ll probably run when they find out he’s here.”

“Brin, for the love of Mari, be quiet,” Sarah pleaded with her daughter.

Raithe started down the steps. The crowd parted to grant him a path.

“Open the gate!” Persephone shouted, and then returned to Malcolm’s side. “He can do this, right?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“They’re gods!” Konniger shouted. “Men can’t fight gods!”

Along with everyone else, Persephone watched the God Killer walk alone down the pathway. “You better hope you’re wrong.”

—

Raithe kept his eyes focused on the gate.

The worst that can happen is you’ll die. A favorite saying of his father’s. He’d heard it countless times. During the Long Winter, when his mother became creative with their meals, even she had used it. Try it. The worst that can happen is you’ll die. For a Dureyan living on a plain of burning rock and freezing snow, death wasn’t feared. Might even be a step up, his father also used to say. Everyone died anyway, and in Dureya most died young.

Raithe didn’t fear death, but he had hoped to marry someday and become a better parent than his father. He wouldn’t spend his life off fighting, leaving his family to fend for themselves.

Coming so close to Dahl Rhen had been stupid. He could have veered around it and been miles away if only he’d stayed in the forest’s eaves and pushed south as planned. Staying with Malcolm had been an even bigger lapse of judgment. He could have, should have, abandoned him at the roadhouse. Traveling would have been faster with a child in tow. But getting involved with Persephone was his worst mistake of all.

How did her problems become mine?

Raithe’s father wouldn’t have been trapped so easily. He knew better than to let emotions cloud judgment. Raithe hadn’t learned that lesson, despite hearing it so often. After trying for years to avoid following Herkimer’s footsteps, it was ironic Raithe would die in the same foolish way. He’d be just one more stupid Dureyan slain by a Fhrey. There would be a difference, though—he would be the last.

Despite Konniger’s order, the men at the gate lifted the rough-hewn log free of the hooks and tossed it aside when Raithe approached. They didn’t push it open. Once their responsibility was done, the pair bolted like rabbits.

Raithe looked back. Persephone stood next to Malcolm, clutching his arm and whispering into his ear. The shakes of the ex-slave’s head and the look on his face verified what Raithe already knew—he didn’t stand a chance.

With a sigh, he pushed the heavy gate open and left the dahl. Outside, the Fhrey party approached in two lines, walking side by side. Raithe expected exact duplicates of Shegon, but these Fhrey were different.

He didn’t care for the changes.

They wore yellow armor that shone like gold in the afternoon sun. Many had Shegon’s blond hair and draped blue capes of the same shimmering cloth over their shoulders, but these Fhrey had sunbaked skin and bodies of lean muscle. Two weren’t Fhrey at all, nor were they human.

One was easily the largest being Raithe had ever seen. Twelve feet tall or more, he had a bald head and flat brutish features. The giant wore only a skirt of leather and straps of hide, and he carried a mammoth sword. The other one walked on two legs but looked more like an animal than either a man or Fhrey. Its sickly-yellow eyes seemed too large for its head, and it loped along on short legs. With its hunched back and incredibly long arms, its claws dragged along the ground. The thing’s skin was dark and leathery, and the ears were pointed, though much longer and sharper than those of any Fhrey. Worst of all was its mouth, which was filled with so many rows of needle-sharp teeth that it couldn’t contain them all. They stuck out at odd angles, and Raithe wondered how the creature could eat without tearing its lips to pieces.

“What a helpful fellow you are. Opening the door for us like that,” the nearest Frey said with a smile. His blond hair was cropped shorter than Shegon’s, his pointed ears standing out. Unlike Shegon, this Fhrey’s shoulders were broad and his build muscular. Aggressive sky-blue eyes noted Raithe’s every movement.

“Sorry, but you can’t come in,” Raithe said, standing in the center of the path and realizing just how stupid that sounded, even to himself.