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

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Roan and Moya followed Persephone into the courtyard of the dahl, having come directly from the docks. She had instructed Brin, Suri, and the dwarfs to take Arion to Padera. Something important was obviously going on, the place was filled with people. All the chieftains were present and dressed in their finest. They sported torcs and fine leigh mors, assuring everyone of their importance. The Galantians clustered on the grass to the right of the gate, and around them remained an open space, an invisible barrier, as no one dared come too close.

Among the sea of faces gathering on the walls, she spotted Heath Coswall sitting next to Hanson Killian. They were with the Bakers and old Mathias Hagger. Their bare feet dangled, sawing back and forth like a giant centipede. Down on the ground near the empty feed bin, she saw Farmer Wedon with a hand on the shoulder of Shepherd Gelston, who looked confused and pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in months, but at least he was standing. Even Tressa was inside the walls; she stood alone. Gifford leaned on his crutch and Habet’s left shoulder. Persephone’s heart ached when she saw the bruises, but Padera had been right. Gifford could endure blows better than anyone.

At least they are all here, still alive, still safe.

Persephone spotted Raithe coming down the steps of the lodge. He had a huge grin on his face, and his eyes were wide with relief as he rushed toward her at a trot. He didn’t stop. He grabbed hold of her with both arms and lifted her off the ground.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he swung her in a circle. “I feared you’d never come back.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his black beard scratching her face, a feeling she didn’t mind in the least.

“Of course I was coming back!”

He let her slip down, and she struggled to plant her feet on dirt again. The welcome was appreciated, but she had work to do and needed to be taken seriously. Being flung in a circle like a new bride didn’t project the image she was trying to portray.

When he finally let go, she asked, “What’s going on? Has a keenig been chosen?”

“Not yet.” Raithe sounded giddy and kept staring at her with a big smile.

She sighed. “So you still won’t do it? You won’t lead us because we lack weapons?”

“Well, it’s complicated. You see—”

“Never mind, I have an announcement. I think you’ll want to hear this.” Persephone smiled. “Everyone! Listen to me!” she shouted to the crowd. “I am Persephone, of the House of Gath, chieftain of Clan Rhen.”

Persephone already had a sizable amount of attention after the dramatic embrace Raithe had given her. She spotted Tegan, Harkon, Lipit, Krugen, and Alward standing near one another by the well and focused on them. “Before I left, there was doubt about our success when facing the Fhrey. We had the numbers, but lacked proper weapons. The Fhrey’s swords and armor were considered too advanced.”

She turned. “Moya! Roan!”

The two rushed forward. Moya carried the bow, while Roan carried a blanketed bundle.

“I’ve traveled across the sea to the land of the Dherg, to the ancient city of Neith, and I’ve returned with hope for our future.”

The courtyard was silent except for the bustling of people shifting to see what was wrapped in the blanket. Taking the bundle, Persephone lifted the sword above her head. A communal gasp was followed by a deep silence. The morning sun glared off the mirrored blade. Persephone walked in a circle, displaying the weapon to wide eyes and gaping mouths. She ended her circle at the post where Raithe had embedded Shegon’s sword. The blade was still there, extending out like a tree branch.

Persephone pointed at the bronze blade. “This fine Fhrey sword was placed here by Raithe of Dureya, the God Killer. It’s capable of cleaving any of our weapons. It’s been argued that we stand no chance of fighting the Fhrey because they possess swords like this. Because their metal is so strong.”

She glanced at Roan. The woman stood with hands clasped before her. Persephone took a deep breath and said a quick prayer to Mari. Wielding the sword with both hands, she raised it high and with as much strength as she could summon swung it in a great overhead chopping motion. The shock jolted up her arms, nearly breaking her grip, but she hung on as the dwarf blade struck the Fhrey’s just above the hilt. She felt it give. When she looked up, only half of the bronze blade remained in the post. The handle lay in the dirt near Raithe’s feet.

The crowd gasped, and Persephone breathed again.

Like everyone else, Raithe stared at the shimmering sword in awe. “How many did they give you?”

“Just this one.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“One?” Raithe looked at her puzzled. “But…just one sword? You can’t outfit an army with a single blade.” She watched his smile fade, his shoulders droop. “Even if they’d given you a thousand, it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Exactly. Which is why I didn’t return with shipments of swords. Tell him, Roan.”

Roan, who was still folding up the blanket after having started over three times, froze at the sound of her name.

“Tell him,” Persephone insisted.

Roan said something, but with her head down and her hair hiding her face, her voice didn’t carry.

“Louder, Roan,” Moya said.

Roan lifted her head. “I…I can make them.”

“You can make them?” Raithe asked.

She nodded far too timidly.

Persephone shouted to the crowd while pointing at her. “This woman knows the secrets to making swords like these!”

Roan jumped at the volume of Persephone’s voice and visibly cowered. She took several steps backward, leaving the open space of the courtyard and joining the crowd.

Persephone handed the sword to Raithe.

He stared at the weapon, then at Roan.

The girl drew up her shoulders as if she were a turtle trying to hide, but somehow she found the courage to say, “I can make better ones.”

Raithe glanced at the post. “This one destroyed Shegon’s sword.”

“I know, but I can do better. I…they…didn’t follow the steps right. But then they didn’t know how to figure out the markings on the stones. Only Brin knows how to do that. In fact, they didn’t even know about the tablet until we brought it out of the mountain. So, they just did what they’ve always done. The Old One’s way is better. More carbon makes it harder, less flexible, and a bit more brittle, but it will hold a sharper edge and be lighter, so much lighter. I could make a sword twice this length and it will weigh half as much. Well maybe not half, a third less perhaps. I don’t know. I have to try some things.”

The other chieftains approached. “Is it magic?” Tegan asked, watching the blade in Raithe’s hands as if he held a dangerous snake.