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

“Why?” Persephone asked.

Roan looked ahead of them. “We’re almost out. She can’t leave Neith. Suri used the table spell from the Old One.” She looked at the mystic. “Did you change anything?”

Suri shook her head. “Just the name.”

“Balgargarath couldn’t leave, either.”

“That’s right,” Brin said. “The creature would live forever, denying the dwarfs access to this place and preventing anyone from entering. He gave it rein to roam Neith, to punish the dwarfs, but denied it the freedom to go beyond so it couldn’t become a curse on the rest of the world.”

Moya pointed at Frost, Flood, and Rain. “How come she didn’t eat them? Wouldn’t she have to? I mean, if she was following the same rules?”

“The rules apply to the nature of its existence, not its actions: what it was, not what it did. Or maybe she would if Suri wasn’t around,” Brin said.

Frost tugged on his beard, pulling harder than usual, his face twisted in frustration. “So we destroyed one monster just to make another?”

“She’s not a monster!” Suri raised her voice. Her harsh tone caused Frost to retreat a step.

Moya sent Frost a big-eyed glare—silently shouting at him. The others stood by, waiting and watching the mystic.

Just a fourteen-year-old girl, Persephone reminded herself. Maybe fifteen by now. Sometimes it was easy to lose track of that fact, hard to believe that Suri was so young. Even harder now. The mystic hadn’t grown an inch. Physically she was the same girl who had come with them into Neith. But in every other way, she was different. Her eyes were no longer as bright, not as sunny. The same with Brin. Both of them had lost their brilliant bounce of childhood innocence. In its place, Persephone saw the hard-won maturity of two people who understood that dreams came with a price. Survival meant learning to live with setbacks, disappointments, and heartache. She had no doubt that when the need arose, these two would be willing to push on, to overcome, and to help those around them do the same. Persephone was looking at women, and she couldn’t be prouder of them.

Suri petted the dragon on the nose. “She’s not a monster, and she would never hurt anyone.”

“Made short work of the raow,” Moya said. After a sharp look from Suri, she added, “Given half a chance, I would’ve done the same. Well, maybe not eaten it, but you know what I mean.”

Persephone said, “But what will she do? I mean, if Suri’s not here? Would she hurt the dwarfs if they tried to return to Neith? I don’t think we can be certain. We don’t really know, do we?”

“I do.” Suri ran her knuckles up and down the bridge of the dragon’s nose. “She killed the raow to save me, because that’s what Minna would have done, and Minna never had a problem with the little people.”

“Maybe you should tell her to go back down anyway,” Persephone said. “Just to be safe.”

“No.” Suri shook her head, and when she turned around they could see she was crying. “I can’t leave her alone… forever in the dark. I can’t do that to her. Minna hates being alone. I won’t leave her that way. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“You can’t stay with her,” Brin said as she, too, started crying. “She’ll live forever, but you won’t. Eventually she will be alone.”

Suri didn’t seem to hear; she was sobbing too hard.

—

More than a dozen well-armored dwarfs were waiting outside the gate to Neith. With pointed spears and rounded helms, they were lined up in three rows, shining a brilliant silver in the morning sun. Persephone wondered if Gronbach had received reports of their progress in the same manner that he had known about the general whereabouts of Balgargarath, or if he had ordered guards stationed there since they’d entered. Knowing Gronbach, even as little as she did, she guessed both.

The leader of the troop spoke directly to Frost in their language. Frost replied, and the soldier appeared shocked.

“He asked if it was dead,” Frost volunteered to Persephone, but she’d already guessed that much.

The soldier looked them over, taking particular interest in Arion, who remained unconscious in her sling, carried between Flood and Rain. The Fhrey’s condition hadn’t changed. She continued to breathe, but her eyes hadn’t so much as flickered.

Once more, the soldier addressed Frost.

“He says we’re missing one.”

“Tell him he’s wrong. We’re missing two.”

Persephone looked back into the dark gate of Neith. Suri was still inside. They hadn’t been able to convince her to leave—not yet. Persephone hoped that given a little time, Suri would accept the need to leave Minna. After reporting to Gronbach, Persephone would return and fetch the mystic while the dwarves loaded the weapons on the ship. She no longer had any concern for Suri’s safety. The girl had a dragon for a watchdog.

Frost relayed Persephone’s message. The soldier accepted it. She knew he would. Easy to think they’d suffered casualties. What would be difficult to accept is there had only been two. The hardest thing to believe would be that they had succeeded. She saw that on the soldier’s face as well, an amused little smile wreathed in mustache and beard that proclaimed, “Sure you did.”

The group’s leader insisted they follow him back to Caric, though follow was less than accurate; his squad of metal-clad warriors surrounded them for the entire journey. The downhill trip took no time at all—or at least it felt that way to Persephone who spent the walk marveling at the warmth of the sun and the feel of the wind. They had only been underground for a few days, but in more than one way, Persephone felt risen from the dead.

Gronbach received them in the great hall they called the Rostwell. Before being allowed inside, their loaned weapons were reclaimed. A studious dwarf inspected each for wear. Moya had a disagreement with a guard over her bronze sword until she pointed out it was Fhrey-made. A second look ended the argument, although the dwarf still insisted she leave it outside the hall. Arion was taken to a room with a bed, where Roan—never one for crowds—volunteered to stay with her.

Inside the Rostwell, tables had been shoved aside and stacked up, along with scores of little chairs. Everything had been cleared out to make room for their arrival. The Master Crafter and Mayor of Caric occupied the only remaining seat, which had been set up on a box, apparently so he could look down at them. He wore full battle dress, with a heavy silver breastplate and a pointed helm that appeared a size too large. Surrounding them were another dozen dwarfs in armor, holding pikes and shields. Persephone hoped the amount of metal in the hall was in honor of their victorious return. The stern looks beneath the helms gave her doubts.

“I have been told you destroyed Balgargarath,” Gronbach said, leaning forward. “Is this true?”

“It is,” Persephone replied, and nodded respectfully.

“And the Fhrey? How is she?”

“Wounded. I don’t know how severe. Time will tell, I think.”

“I’m told she is unconscious, barely breathing.”