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

“We’ve never really had a chance to talk since Reglan died,” she began in a gentle, empathetic tone. Although not exactly friends, they’d known each other for years, and she knew this was her best chance to reason with him. “I, well, I’m sorry if I’ve made things harder for you. I was only trying to help. It’s just that after twenty years of sitting up there, I guess it’s hard to let someone else take over—hard to stand by and watch rather than do. I want you to know I’m going to try to be better. You’re chieftain now. I respect that. I just hope you’ll let me contribute—that we can work together in some way. I mean, I have done this job for a long time, and I think I have some knowledge you could benefit from. It seems stupid to be at odds the way we’ve been.”

Konniger cleared his throat and took a breath. “You know, Tressa had been so excited to move in here.” Konniger pointed at the rafters with a lazy finger. “She’d dreamed of it all her life. That woman knew I’d be chieftain one day, believed it even when I didn’t. That’s what a good wife does, keeps your dreams alive even when you don’t believe anymore.” He pulled himself up a bit in the chair, a seat in which he didn’t look comfortable.

“All this heavy timber, solid roof, and this fine fire was so much nicer than the dumpy roundhouse we shared with my mother, my sister, and her husband, Fig. Can’t forget old Fig. Bastard snores as loud as a thunderstorm. I swear he was the cause of the thatch coming off the roof each spring. And, of course, their brood of kids: four god-awful brats who are always crying or shouting. All of us crammed in on top of one another, which wasn’t so bad in winter. Cold blew right through that thatch, you know? But in the heat of summer—brutal.” He shook his head with a you-have-no-idea expression.

“I slept outside most nights starting around this time of year. Sometimes Tressa joined me.” He smiled then and looked into the glowing coals before his feet. “We rarely slept those nights. She likes it outside. Enjoys the freedom that lying on grass gives. I couldn’t wait to see what it’d be like here in the lodge surrounded by thick log walls, the comfort of fur, and the warmth of our own private fire.”

Persephone nodded. “It’s a grand house, this is. I remember being shocked when Reglan first showed me the bedroom. I thought so much luxury was obscene. I figured no one could ever be unhappy living in such a place, sleeping on a fancy bed all to ourselves, but I cried rivers within these walls.”

A breeze blew in through the open door, stirring the flames between them. Konniger sat up fully and pulled the black bear fur tighter over his shoulders. From overhead came the faint sound of intermittent scratching accompanied by an occasional doglike whimper.

Minna, Persephone thought. Why is she scratching?

“I always thought I was destined for greatness,” the chieftain said. “Out of eight kids I was the only one to survive to adulthood.”

“Your sister Autumn is—”

“My sister Autumn isn’t worth mentioning. I’m talking about men. She’s only good for churning out—well, I mentioned the screaming brats already, didn’t I?” He sighed and shook his head. “Eight kids. It was easy to believe that the gods had chosen me for some greatness. Why else did they send sickness, famine, and in the case of my brother Kerannon a gust of wind to kill them while sparing me? As I got older, I realized I was wrong. It wasn’t that I was being spared; they just did a piss-poor job of slaughtering us. Gods can be just as lazy and sloppy as anyone else, I suppose. When Wogan dropped that tree on my father, I knew the gods didn’t care for us. The man was a warrior—Shield to the chieftain—and he died crushed by a lousy tree. No, the gods don’t like me and mine. Honestly, I don’t think they like any of us. But look who I’m talking to.” He laughed.

Persephone nodded. “It can seem that way at times.”

“Yep. The gods are jealous of even the few fleeting instances of joy we manage to sneak in. Laughter rankles them, makes them think we have it better than we should, and they can’t stand that.” He lowered his voice a bit, as if imparting a secret or trying to prevent the gods from hearing. “You can tell because terrible things always follow fortune. If there’s a birth, someone will die. If there’s a good harvest, the next year there’s a blight. Maybe the gods just love to see us suffer. That would explain why we still exist. We’re toys—toys that the gods break and reassemble so they can experience the pleasure of breaking us again. The trick is to avoid being the toy that’s smashed by being the toy that does the smashing.”

He stared at her then, a long hard study, then nodded with some approved decision. “You’re smarter than I expected. I admit I underestimated you. I bought the illusion that Reglan was brilliant; now I see it was all you. He tried to tell me once. Right after my father died, the day he asked me to be his Shield, Reglan told me you were the one that made everything work. I never thought he was serious. He was drunk at the time. We both were. People say stupid things when they’re toasting the dead. He said you were the heart of this dahl, the real chieftain. You were the one with all the ideas, the one with the courage, the one with the passion.” He paused, watching her.

Persephone felt he was giving her a chance to speak, but she had no words.

What can I say to that? Yes, I’m great, or no, the love of my life was a fool?

A moment later, Konniger went on. “After I became chieftain, I thought you’d be a good girl and quietly step aside, disappear into widowhood, and everything would work out. Tressa would have her fine house, and I would rule the way my father never got a chance to because the gods thought it was funny to drop an oak on him. Only it didn’t work out that way, did it?”

“You’re the chieftain, Konniger. I’ve never disputed that.”

He smiled at her then, a disbelieving smirk. “All these years with Reglan, I knew you had friends in the other clans, but damn, woman.” He laughed. “A Dureyan mercenary, seven Fhrey, a goblin, and a giant. You really called in some favors, didn’t you? Don’t know why you went to all the trouble. The God Killer would have been enough. He’s a foot taller than I am and has a sword, for Mari’s sake. Probably been fighting since he could walk. I think we all know he can beat me.”

“I didn’t bring him here to challenge you.”

“I’m not an idiot, Seph. Of course you didn’t. No one brings that much muscle just to oust someone like me from a chair. You have bigger plans, don’t you?” He smiled. “You gave it away at the meeting, you know? That comment about uniting the clans. That’s it, isn’t it? Reglan was right. You’re smart, but he never mentioned the ambition.”

“Listen, Konniger. I don’t know where you’re getting all—”

“Easy, Seph. Relax. I’m not ambushing you, and I’m not here to scold you for disobedience.”

“You don’t sound like you’re here to make peace, either.”

“Not really.”

“What, then?”

Above them, Persephone heard Minna’s scratching and whining again, louder this time.

The noise made Konniger look up. “Your mystic left, and her wolf is still up there. I thought you might be confused when you found her gone. You came to me the day the Fhrey arrived to explain what was going on. That was big of you, so I figured I’d return the favor.”

“And what is going on? Where’s Suri?”

“She and Maeve went hunting the big brown bear together.”

“Suri and Maeve went—? What are you talking about?”

“The two left a few hours ago to save Maeve’s daughter.”

“Daughter?”

“Ha!” he exclaimed, withdrawing into the chair, pulling himself tighter. “You didn’t know Maeve had a daughter, did you?”

“Maeve doesn’t have a daughter.”

“She did. The old woman gave birth some fourteen years ago.”

Persephone shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Have you been drinking?”

“Not a drop, but I assure you Maeve did have a child.”

“It’s not possible; everyone on the dahl would have known.”

He shook his head. “Reglan kept it a secret. Hid Maeve somewhere—I don’t know where—told everyone she had to go on a long trip to visit each of the other dahls and collect stories from the other clans or some such nonsense. Took her over a year. You remember that, don’t you?”

Persephone did remember when Maeve had disappeared. She recalled how frustrating it was to be missing their Keeper. There were always things coming up, things Persephone didn’t know the answers to, things that needed to be verified, and all of it had to be delayed until Maeve got back.