Age of Swords (The Legends of the First Empire #2)

“No?”

“Absolutely not.” She took another step and winced.

“We should get you to a doctor.”

“It’s a broken leg. I’m not dying, and this is more important.”

“What is?”

She looked at him, peering into his eyes as if trying to find something hidden. “Mawyndul?, do you understand what just happened, and what will happen now?”

“Some people…people I sorta knew…tried to murder my father.”

“That’s one way to see it.”

“How do you see it?”

“Do you realize that except during the Uli Vermar, no Fhrey has ever attempted to harm a fane. Ever. Just as until today, there had never been violence inside the Airenthenon. Do you know why?”

“Because it’s wrong?”

“Because until today, it was unthinkable. The very foundation of our society is grounded in tradition, the observance of rules. Those rules have been challenged, and the result will be catastrophic.”

“How so?”

“Let me ask you this. What do you think your father will do now?”

Mawyndul? had no idea. Like she said, what had happened was unthinkable. What his father would do was equally so. “I don’t know.”

“He was just attacked by his own people, the Miralyith, those he trusted the most. They very nearly killed him, and did kill many of his friends. How do you think he feels? Angry?”

Mawyndul? nodded.

“Frightened?”

He had a harder time with that one. He couldn’t imagine his father scared of anything.

“How did you feel in the Airenthenon when the battle was just outside? You were scared. You just told me so. There you were, surrounded, while people around you died…no…were killed. No one, on either side, wanted to hurt you, and yet you were rightfully terrified. Imagine how the fane feels. They were trying to kill him, and like I said, most choices are caused by fear. The question is, will your father choose to hold the building together or save himself and let it rip apart? You could make the difference.”

“Me?”

Imaly hopped on one foot, and this caused a sharp grimace. “Let’s sit down.” She pointed to the fountain with the severed stag legs, and he helped her lower herself to the rim of the basin. In the water, he spotted a shoe.

“A lot of people died today.”

Mawyndul? nodded. He didn’t know about Makareta, but from the doorway of the Airenthenon, he had seen Aiden’s body. Rinald, Inga, and Flynn were also dead, and he’d seen faces of other Gray Cloaks who had died. Several of his father’s personal guard were dead, along with three of the seven members of the Aquila. There had also been bystanders who lost their lives in the square. Most of them had worked or shopped in the marketplace, as they had on any other day.

“Your father needs to respond to this, for the sake of maintaining his authority to rule, but he’ll also want revenge…retribution against everyone who harbors any drop of dissent toward him. He won’t be satisfied until he has dug deep and found the source of this poison. What is that source, Mawyndul?, can you tell me? What was it that caused this?”

“The Miralyith want more power.”

She nodded. “A division between the tribes. Do you know why there is a fane? Why we have the Horn of Gylindora and the Uli Vermar? It’s because we used to war among ourselves. We are our own worst enemy. In ancient times, the tribes slaughtered one another until the coming of Caratacus, who brought Ferrol’s horn to Gylindora Fane. She was just a simple basket maker back then. She didn’t think she was a hero, either. The tribes had nearly annihilated one another through constant battles for dominance. Gylindora and Caratacus changed all that. They gathered those of like mind from all the tribes and came here. They built this place and established laws, unbreakable rules, to make certain such infighting would never happen again. These have protected us, served us well. Once in a generation, the ruling line can be challenged. Even then, the choice is made by single combat. Not by war, not by the death of thousands. We have peace…at least within this forest. But what now? What happens when the rules are broken? What does the fane do when he feels the old ways aren’t working anymore?”

“He makes new ones.”

“Yes.” Imaly rested her injured arm on her injured leg to brush a lock of hair back from her face. “He tightens his grip, punishes large portions of his people. Do you think this will make them love or hate him? Do you think the Miralyith will thank him? Or now that they have been shown that rules can be broken, will they try again? What if they do so with larger numbers and better planning? Mawyndul?, we are facing civil war. We are taking our first steps back to our old destructive ways. A path that will eventually lead to our destruction.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“You were there. You attended the meetings. You are at the fork in this path, and we need you now. More than we’ve ever needed anyone before. Your father will ultimately decide which way to go, but you have the power to influence that decision. To change history before it happens.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You can tell your father that a large number of his people, of his own tribe, tried to kill him because they want more power, and that will send him down the path of civil war. Or…you can tell him they were manipulated. You can say the Gray Cloaks were controlled, coerced, and seduced by someone else…someone external. With your single pointed finger, you have the power to unite us all against a common enemy and preserve the Forest Throne, or we can turn to infighting, which will ultimately destroy us.”

Mawyndul? thought of how Vidar had been set up, falsely accused of something he had no part in. He didn’t think he could do that to anyone. “I couldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Are you sure? One little white lie to save your people? And it isn’t like I’m suggesting you accuse an innocent.”

“Who, then?”

“The one person the fane would believe.” She paused.

Mawyndul? was frightened by who she would name. Will it be me?

“Nyphron of the Instarya,” Imaly said.

Relief washed over him. The moment she said the name, Mawyndul? knew it was the answer. An instant later he wondered if perhaps it might actually be true. How hard was it to believe that the outlaw, and maybe even The Traitor, would seek to destroy all of Fhrey society by pitting them against one another? Divide and conquer. Isn’t that a military axiom? And here it had nearly worked.

“Once again, just like in the Airenthenon, we are threatened. What will you do? Save yourself, or stand and use your influence to protect your people and preserve our heritage? This is your chance to be a hero, Mawyndul?. The salvation of our people is up to you.”