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

She saw Nyphron’s nod, and replied to him with a smile. Everyone else saw this as well and the murmurs quieted.

“As everyone knows, Maeve is dead. Dahl Rhen is without a Keeper of Ways. I therefore appoint Brin, daughter of Delwin and Sarah, to be the new chronicler of our people.”

Moya clapped again, and this time a few others joined her. Padera and Roan were the loudest.

Persephone looked to Raithe then and took a deep breath. “I’m also appointing Raithe of Dureya, who has already saved my life more than once and stood faithfully by my side against certain death, to be my Shield, for I can think of no greater or more loyal warrior.” She wondered if she should have asked first, but he didn’t say no right away, and so she quickly moved on. “To Malcolm, who also stood his ground with me in battle and willingly offered to stand and die that I might live”—she extended a hand toward him—“I grant full citizenship in Dahl Rhen. We are short on men in general now, but even if that weren’t so, we’d be eager for one with virtues such as yours.”

Moya led the applause once more. This time the crowd was getting used to the idea, and Persephone could feel the shift from doubt to confidence. The people before her no longer saw an uncertain sunset but the coming dawn of possibilities.

Persephone pointed over everyone’s heads. “For those of you who don’t already know, that young woman sitting against the wall with the wolf is Suri. While all of you were asleep in your beds, she set out on a dangerous quest to save your lives—the same quest that took Maeve from this world.”

Every head turned.

Suri lifted her face from between her knees and stared back. A moment later, Minna did likewise.

“To Suri I bestow the official title of the first Mystic of Rhen and also designate her as a personal adviser. I’m certain I’ll consult with her frequently. Mostly because she’s the only one I know who can understand the language and wisdom of trees.”

This brought another murmur.

Persephone took another breath and brushed hair from her face. “I’m afraid what we’ve seen today isn’t over. A storm is coming, I think—a war between the Fhrey and ourselves. What you witnessed this morning was only the beginning. Suri saw the signs a month ago, and I believe her. A terrible reckoning is still on its way. We as a people stand atop a precipice, backed up to the very edge. We have no choice. We must find the courage to fight for our lives even against those we once thought to be gods. Remember what you’ve seen today. Draw courage from the fact that even their most powerful die. You’ve seen that with your own eyes this day.”

She pointed to the stone statue in the center of the courtyard. “We of Dahl Rhen worship the goddess Mari, who has saved us from destruction and is clearly more powerful than any Fhrey. She has delivered unto us the gifts of Raithe, Suri, Nyphron, and Arion. My hope is that she’ll guide us through any storms in the future and deliver us to a new world where we don’t need to live every day as if it’s our last. A brighter tomorrow awaits us, for we’ll live in a new age free of false gods where we can decide our own destiny.”

The crowd applauded its approval, and Persephone took that moment to enter the lodge that was once again her home.

The eternal fire was out. Only a few coals still glowed. She grabbed some pieces of split wood from the pile and worked them in, then blew. Smoke rose. Persephone blew again, and a flame flickered. She tossed another log on. When she was satisfied the fire had caught, she walked over to the center of the hall and sat in the First Chair.

—

“That’s a pathetic-looking spear,” Nyphron said, approaching Malcolm where he stood on the wall near the gate.

Being an official member of Clan Rhen, Malcolm had volunteered to take the watch that night. After such a harrowing day, everyone else was asleep, the fires long out. Only the full moon looked down, revealing the walkway.

“I call it Narsirabad.”

“Cute,” Nyphron said, then, switching to Fhrey, he added, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“And before? I’ve been here for more than a week. Why is this the first time we’ve spoken together? And why is it me coming to you and not the other way around?”

This time Malcolm replied in Fhrey. “I didn’t think it would be in either of our best interests to be seen together.”

“And I think you’re growing a bit too fond of life outside the Rhist. Perhaps a taste of freedom has given you an appetite for more. Were you planning on running away?” Nyphron asked. “Is that why you volunteered to watch the gate?”

Nyphron didn’t give Malcolm a chance to answer. He walked past him along the rampart, his eyes peering out into the darkness to the northwest. When he spoke, it was in Rhunic. “When I was young, that out there was my playground. Avrlyn was a grand gateway to high adventures. The snowcapped mountains of Hentlyn were home to the violent Grenmorians. The jagged teeth of the Adendal Durat hosted the hill goblins. The meadows were rich with game, and the Harwood filled with dark secrets. I bathed in the gold sunsets, wandered beneath the moon, and gleefully accepted every challenge. Even among the Instarya I’m a legend, a hero.”

“Alon Rhist had been a hero,” Malcolm reminded him. “So had Atella. The stories all end the same.”

Nyphron took a step closer to Malcolm and leaned in, placing a hand on top of the one the ex-slave was using to hold Narsirabad. He whispered in Fhrey, “I thought I told you to kill Shegon.”

Malcolm replied with a guilty, uncomfortable smile.

“I sent you with him for that specific reason. Did you forget? Imagine my surprise when I discovered Raithe, instead of my slave, is the God Killer.”

“I’m not your slave. I belonged to your father.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t you hear the news? He’s dead. That makes you my property.”

“I’m not sure slavery is one of Ferrol’s laws.”

Nyphron laughed softly and licked his lips. “You of all people know I’m not a stickler for rules.”

“But not even your father saw me as his slave.”

“My father wasn’t all that bright—as evidenced by his death. Now, do you want to explain your memory lapse? How is it that Raithe is the one who killed Shegon? Why wasn’t it you?”

“Two reasons,” Malcolm said. “First, as you just pointed out, many would see me as your property and that would link you to Shegon’s murder. You don’t want that.”

“A risk I was willing to take.”

“And second, I suspected that when Meryl and I returned, pointing fingers at each other, you’d have us both executed—and that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.”

Nyphron pursed his lips and nodded. “Very clever of you. And you’re right, but I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t think anyone has outwitted me before. Makes me nervous.”

“Given what you’re planning, I think you ought to be nervous, don’t you?”

Nyphron shook his head. “No. All that I’ve done and will do was predestined, ordained by god.”

Malcolm raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Which one?”

Nyphron offered a mischievous grin. “I haven’t decided.”





Glossary of Terms and Names


Airenthenon: Although the Forest Throne and the Door predate it, the Airenthenon is the oldest building in Estramnadon. The domed and pillared structure where the Aquila holds meetings.

Alon Rhist: Fourth fane of the Fhrey, who died during the Dherg War. He was replaced by Fenelyus. One of the outposts on the border between Rhulyn and Avrlyn bears his name.