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

“Might not see again.”

“You’re going blind?” Arion asked, dramatizing the girl’s purposeful avoidance of pronouns.

The girl scowled. “Know what I mean.”

“You know what I mean, and you should have said, ‘I might not see you again.’?”

Arion expected an irritated smirk or maybe an argument. She’d been making a concerted effort to teach the girl to speak proper Fhrey, something Suri reluctantly submitted to but rarely without protest. Suri did look over but showed no hint of resistance. She appeared pensive, even a bit scared.

“Why? What’s going on?” Arion’s first thought was that a village meeting had been held and the mongrel hordes had decided to execute the evil Miralyith. They probably would do it at dawn, a ritual killing, a sacrifice to their sun god.

“Have to do something dangerous,” Suri said.

A wind blew in through the window, threatening the lamp’s flame, which fluttered but survived.

“What are you going to do?”

“Fight demon for girl’s soul.”

Arion wasn’t certain she had heard correctly. Suri had probably gotten the words wrong. She did that on occasion, and it then became a verbal form of the string game as Arion worked to untangle the idea from the sounds Suri made. “The word demon means an evil spirit.”

Suri nodded. “A morvyn—an evil spirit—took over an infant. Turned her into a giant bear. She feed on people. Bones show morvyn will come here on morning of full moon. Tomorrow. Greatest power then. Kill everyone if me not stop it.”

Arion didn’t bother to correct the pronoun. She had other more important concerns. “What do you mean when you say you saw the future with bones?”

Suri pulled out what looked to be a burnt stick from her satchel. “The signs are clear. Even know part of the name of the demon, Grin, like a nasty smile, see?” The girl held out an old chicken bone. The bottom half was scorched black. “There is an evil bear in the forest called Grin the Brown. Not bear, is morvyn. Think that is what the bones mean. But me never drive out demon before. If fail…”

She glanced at Minna. “Need to ask favor.”

“From me?” Arion was barely able to sit up and feed herself. “What?”

The wind fluttered the lamp again. Suri glanced at it, then continued, “Going with the mother of the child to a bear den. Not to fight, too powerful. Only hope is to drive demon out. Will have mother call to child. Bear knows mother, sort of knows me, too. Not taking others. Morvyn would attack. That includes Minna.” She paused to scratch behind the wolf’s ears. “Hoping to leave Minna here. Door is only thing that stop her from following.”

The idea of being trapped alone with an angry wolf was only marginally better than the idea of the village executing her. “This doesn’t sound at all wise to me. Forgive me for saying this, but you can’t tell the future from bones, and demons don’t possess children and turn them into murderous bears. It all sounds like tribal myths, silly stories to frighten children.”

“Can leave Minna?”

Maybe it was the way Suri acted like a Fhrey by playing with string. Or perhaps it was because she watched over Arion every night. Most likely it was the mournful look on the girl’s face while asking. Regardless of the reasons, Arion said, “Yes.”

She regretted it immediately. Arion opened her mouth to take it back when the wind gusted again. This time the lamp blew out, leaving them both in darkness.

Arion could still see; the moon was nearly full and its light spilled in through the window. As such, there was no mistaking what happened next. Suri looked at the lamp, which sat on the table across the room. She rubbed her hands together briskly, murmured a few faint words, and then clapped.

The lamp flared to life.

“How did you do that?” Arion asked, stunned. She put her emphasis on the pronoun again, but this time it had nothing to do with language lessons. Arion knew exactly how Suri had lit the lamp, and until recently she would have done the same thing in much the same manner. But this girl was a Rhune. She repeated the question. “How did you do that?”

“Asked a fire spirit to light lamp. Should have asked wind to stop playing around, but wind doesn’t listen.”

Hearing nothing that made sense, Arion continued to stare in shock. “You’re a Rhune.”

“You’re a Fhrey. You play that game, too?”

Arion had no idea what game Suri was talking about and didn’t care. “What else can you do?”

The girl shrugged. “Eat, sleep, run, jump—”

“I meant like that.” She pointed at the lamp.

Suri looked puzzled.

“You don’t see a difference?”

Suri continued to look puzzled.

“Can everyone light lamps at a distance?”

Suri thought about this. “Different people do different things. Tura sang good. Padera cooks tasty soup. Gifford makes pretty clay cups. Sarah is good making blankets. Minna runs fast. You make swords stop.”

“Can you make swords stop?”

Suri shook her head.

“Can you make it rain?” Arion asked.

Suri chuckled.

“Can you open the door to this room without touching it?” Arion asked.

“Can you?” the girl shot back.

Arion glanced over her shoulder at the closed door and sighed. “Not at the moment.”

Suri smiled, and Arion caught something odd in her expression, a playful mischievousness. But then Arion knew so little about Rhunes, and Suri was the strangest of them all.

“How did you learn to make fire? Did someone teach you?”

“How you learn to walk?” Suri asked. “How you learn to talk? Someone teach you?”

Arion found she was smiling. What a perfect answer. Not just the point being made but the way she made it—an answer in the form of a question. Statements were ends, and there was nothing closed or final in the Art. This girl, this Rhune, was doing the impossible, thinking and acting like a second-tier Miralyith, and she wasn’t even a Fhrey.

Suri left the chair and came over to Arion’s bedside. The wolf followed. “If don’t…” Suri glanced at the wolf and then leaned over and whispered in Arion’s ear, “If not come back, explain to Minna. Tell her me had to go.”

Suri pulled back, and Arion saw tears in the girl’s eyes. Suri bent down and hugged Minna’s neck, saying something in her crude language. Suri sniffled and wiped her face.

“No,” Arion said. “Suri, don’t go.”

The girl looked up, surprised.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything dangerous. You’re…you’re…special.”

“You special, too.” Suri smiled.

“No, you don’t understand. You have talent, real talent. And you’re a Rhune. Do you know what that means?”

“Know if don’t stop Grin the Brown before sunrise tomorrow, everyone dies. Know same way know how to light lamp.” She stood up and looked at the flickering light. “Sure not want me to go?”

Arion bit her lip.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


Curse of the Brown Bear




When the dead betray the living, the victims are memories.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN