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

The short-haired Fhrey’s smile became a grin. “And why is that?”

Raithe didn’t like the grin. The Fhrey had a gleeful, eager expression; he was hoping for trouble.

“Because I said so.” Raithe let his hand settle on Shegon’s sword.

The Fhrey’s eyes followed the movement and narrowed with interest.

The rest of the party advanced and came to a stop behind the first, where they fanned out to get a better view.

“What do we have here?” another Fhrey said. Except for the giant, he was the tallest of the group. His hair reached his shoulders, but like all the Fhrey, he had no beard. “A welcoming committee of one?”

“On the contrary,” the first replied, “he says we can’t come in.”

“Can’t? How rude. I mean, even for a Rhune that’s ill mannered.”

“And he has Shegon’s sword.”

This revelation caught all of their attentions. Looks of surprise ran across their faces, followed by expressions of delight.

“So this is the famous God Killer we’ve heard so much about,” the tall one said. Like all Fhrey, he had beautiful, delicate features: flawless skin, straight teeth, and those brilliant blue eyes.

The entire group was relaxed, weight back on their heels, shoulders loose, not a hand on a weapon. Raithe wasn’t sure if he was pleased or worried about that. Maybe they weren’t there to fight. Or maybe, like Shegon, they knew he wasn’t a threat.

“Tell the truth. Did you kill Shegon?” the tall one asked.

“Yes,” Raithe said. “And I’ll do the same to any Fhrey who tries to enter this dahl.”

“Well, well. Aren’t you the bold one.” The tall Fhrey took a step closer, and Raithe realized they were the same height. Raithe glared back, refusing to blink.

“So you’re a great warrior, then? Do you think you could kill me?”

He didn’t reply. The Fhrey was sizing Raithe up, and he wanted to keep him ignorant.

“There are stories about you all along the road. I’m a little disappointed. I expected you’d be taller—the tales certainly are.”

The others laughed.

“Do you know who I am?” The tall, long-haired Fhrey held his hands out, palms up, and slowly pivoted to give Raithe a full view. Sun glared off his brilliant armor, and the wind blew his golden hair. “I’m Nyphron, son of Zephyron, leader of the Instarya tribe, and captain of the Galantians, these nice fellows with me. They are the elite of the Instarya, and as there are no greater warriors than the Fhrey, these Galantians are the best of the best.”

“Being their leader, I suppose that makes you the best of the best of the best?” Raithe spoke with a cavalier tone. He wanted to show he wasn’t impressed, which was difficult since he was certain the Fhrey told the truth.

Nyphron shook his head. “No, I’m actually not.” He clapped the short-haired Fhrey’s shoulder. “Sebek is.”

This brought a round of moans from the rest of the troop.

“Well, okay, each of us has specific fields of expertise. But…” He paused, holding up a finger and glancing at the others. “I’d still say Sebek is the best overall warrior. Anyone dispute that?”

Sebek grinned.

No one said a word.

Nyphron returned his focus to Raithe. “I suppose you think you’re something special now that you’ve killed one of us, yes? Before you get too full of yourself, look at the sword you carry. See all the fancy decorations on the hilt? The encrusted gems? Lovely, isn’t it? Do you think that’s a warrior’s weapon? Shegon was a member of the Asendwayr tribe, a hunter. They provide food for our kind. Although they’re skilled trackers and excellent in forests and fields, they don’t know much about real combat. That sword is merely decorative. A pretty toy. He received it as a gift from an admirer. Some idiot in Estramnadon who doesn’t know the first thing about battle made it.”

Nyphron drew his sword. He did it slowly, making a point not to threaten. Nevertheless, Raithe took a step back and gripped the hilt of his weapon more tightly.

“This”—he presented his weapon—“is Pontifex, one of the names we have for the wind. It’s a custom-crafted, curved cleve I designed myself—simple, short, and fast. Not as austere as Sebek’s more traditional twins, but as you can see it’s definitely not a toy. So tell me, Rhune, do you think you can kill me?”

“I’m not a Rhune. I’m a man.”

Nyphron smiled. The cheery, simple look disturbed Raithe more than anything that had happened so far. He didn’t know what it meant.

“Let’s find out exactly what you are. Go ahead, draw that pretty sword.”

Nyphron waited until Raithe had his blade clear. “And your shield, slip it on. We need to do this right.”

Raithe wasn’t certain if it was a trick. The Fhrey saw his apprehension and took a step back, providing him room to safely arm himself.

“That’s an odd shield,” Sebek said, and glanced at Nyphron. “Did Shegon have a weird little decorative Dherg shield?”

Nyphron shrugged. “Who knows?”

The Galantian leader also had a shield, and in one blindingly fast motion it moved from his back to his forearm. The action was beyond impressive—like magic. Raithe couldn’t help being intimidated, even as he realized that had been the point.

The rest of the Fhrey stepped back, and when they were both ready, Nyphron bowed while touching the sword’s pommel to his forehead. Raithe returned only a nod.

He expected the same lethal speed as before and wasn’t disappointed. Nyphron was faster than Shegon, but not exceedingly so. If Raithe hadn’t already faced a Fhrey—if he hadn’t seen the lightning-quick strikes before—he would have been dead in an instant. But Raithe was ready this time. He gave himself over to instinct and caught the stroke with his new shield. He had no idea what to expect and was shocked when the power of Nyphron’s blow rang the metal and jarred the buckler from his grip. With no supporting strap, it fell to the grass.

“No protection,” Sebek muttered. “Just decorative.”

A following stroke was inevitable. Raithe acted in anticipation rather than in reaction. Nyphron struck, aiming to decapitate him. If Raithe had been an instant slower, he would have lost his head. His blade clashed with Nyphron’s, and Raithe feared a repeat of his failure with his father’s copper, but as the metals kissed, Shegon’s weapon—toy or not—held.

Nyphron wasn’t one to pause. Momentum was in his favor and he pressed hard, striking again—first low then high. Raithe caught the strokes an instant before they would have cleaved off his leg and arm. He had no time to counterattack as the Fhrey forced his advantage.

He’s fast, so incredibly fast.

Raithe’s brothers weren’t this quick. They were brutes, big and heavy. Raithe was the swiftest among them, and he used that to his advantage. If they caught him, Raithe was beat, so he perfected his ability to dodge. Speed had made all the difference in the past. Speed and balance, but Nyphron was better at both.

Stretched to his limit, Raithe fell back, holding on to life by his fingertips as he managed to barely place his sword in the path of Nyphron’s hammering. The blades had no time to stop singing before the next toll sounded.

Defeat was inevitable. Raithe only needed to make one mistake, and it wasn’t long before he did.

The Fhrey’s sword came across in a blinding sweep, and Raithe batted it aside, but with too much force. He lost precious time recovering his balance and wouldn’t be able to catch the next stroke.

From somewhere behind Raithe came a gasp of fear. He wasn’t the only one to see what was coming. In anticipation of the killing blow, he gritted his teeth.

Miraculously, Nyphron slowed. The Fhrey looked up, distracted by something near the dahl’s gate. Something behind Raithe. The lack of concentration was brief, but enough. Knowing he couldn’t counter Nyphron’s attack, Raithe didn’t bother. Instead, he made a dangerous gamble. For the first time, Raithe went on the offensive. He swung down instead of across. They would trade blows, blood for blood.