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

Flood turned then. With a smirk on his lips and hands moving to his hips, he said, “That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it? We’re brothers. You don’t have a limp. My name isn’t Shirley. Fish don’t fly. You’re always the one with the answers, aren’t you?”

Frost lowered his voice and addressed Flood, “Now isn’t really the time. Can you just keep your big mouth shut?”

Frost tugged his brother’s beard and glared. Flood scowled back just as intently. For the first time, Persephone noticed that the two had similar eyes, the same nose, and most certainly the same exact scowl. She had no idea how she’d missed the family connection before.

Immersed in their altercation, the Dherg were oblivious to Arion’s irritation, and Persephone cleared her throat to get their attention.

Frost looked sheepish, and he bowed respectfully toward Arion once more, then repeated the gesture to Persephone. “I apologize for the interruption, Your Majesty.”

Persephone addressed Arion, “They went into a mountain to find treasure.”

“Seriously? All that boiled down to they are treasure hunters?”

“Well…”

“Doesn’t matter. What is it they want?”

“I think it would be best if you got to the point,” Persephone said to Frost.

“Of course, of course,” he said apologetically. “As I was saying, we were part of a team, exploring the depths of Neith…the unmapped areas…the old places. Eight of us including Rain. We were in a corridor when we heard it coming. That happens in the deep places. You hear things, feel them, too, and there’s no place that goes deeper than Neith.”

Fear crept into Frost’s face. “It came from behind us. We were at the end of a corridor with no place to go. I’m not exaggerating when I say we feared for our lives. We would’ve died. Should’ve really. But Rain, well…he started digging. No one digs like he does. He gets going and it’s like he’s a mole. The giant ignored us and chased him; it follows sounds, you see. The rest of the party scattered. Easy to get lost down there. Of the remaining seven, only Flood and I got out. We never expected to see Rain again. And we didn’t, not for a long time. Then one day he popped up. He’d spent months in the deep, in the dark, with hardly any supplies. No one knows how he survived. He don’t talk about it, and we don’t ask.”

Persephone asked, “Is he also related to you two?”

“No, but we’ve sort of adopted him. Flood and I are alive because of Rain, so we owe him. First thing we did was get him out of Neith, out of Belgreig entirely. Away from all of it, because, well…it wasn’t exactly legal what we done…digging in the old mines. So we crossed the Blue Sea and headed north. No idea about where to go, just traveling, running really. But now we’re here and after seeing what she did, well…” Again he looked at Flood, then at Arion. “I think we might have discovered a way to fix things so that we can go home, if you understand me.”

Persephone shook her head. “Sorry, not a clue.”

“Not surprising,” Flood said. “Your people only recently discovered the wheel. How bright can you be?”

Frost slapped Flood across the back of his head, making the gray-bearded Dherg flinch. “Show some respect to the lady. She’s the queen of her people.” Frost turned back to her. “Please forgive Flood, Your Majesty. Our mother never cared for him, and this is what neglect yields.”

“So what is it you need?” Persephone asked. “To go home, that is?”

“Oh, see, it was huge, a giant about the size of the one Arion subdued a few days ago. It’s still down there, barring our people from their homeland. If Arion could come to Neith and get rid of it, then we wouldn’t be in so much trouble for digging around in places we shouldn’t have been. Gronbach would surely grant us pardons.” Frost smiled hopefully.

Persephone said to Arion, “They went to forbidden area and found a giant. Now can’t go home. If you could get rid of it, they might be forgiven.”

Arion shook her head, and Frost’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I appreciate their situation, but I need to focus on stopping the war. Perhaps if I manage to do that, then maybe I can do something for them, but right now I have more important problems.”

Persephone spoke to Frost, “I am sorry. You’ve been a great help to us these last few days, but Arion is needed here. She’s trying to stop a war between the Rhune and Fhrey peoples. You are welcome to join us during our trip to Tirre. There are many of your kind down south, and perhaps you can find a group to take up with.”

The three bowed formally once more. “We thank you both for your time and for the invitation.” Then they turned and walked away.

—

“You really messed that up,” Flood told Frost when they were once more back among the piles of wool. “A giant? Seriously?”

“What? It’s big, isn’t it?” Frost replied.

“What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know. That elf is our best chance. Maybe if we convince her that Balgargarath is a greater threat than the war, she would help.”

Flood shook his head. “In order to do that, you’d have to tell her the truth.”





CHAPTER SIX


The Prince




The land of the Fhrey is called Erivan, a vast nation of great cities and numerous woodland villages set within the ancient forests of the east. The capital is Estramnadon, the seat of the fane and his son Mawyndul?.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN





Mawyndul? was certain he hated Vidar. The senior councilor was old and he smelled, a bit like sour milk. Thinking about it, Mawyndul? realized he hated most people, but made a distinction for those he truly despised. People like Vidar, Arion the Traitor, the God Killer, and Mawyndul?’s own father fell into this especially loathed group. The rest of the world was filled with individuals he merely disliked. As Mawyndul? followed Vidar up the marble steps to the columned building where the Aquila met, he realized Gryndal had been the only person he honestly liked. Gryndal had been the greatest of the Fhrey and he had been killed by Mawyndul?’s ex-tutor-turned-traitor, Arion. Although the God Killer had removed Gryndal’s head from his body, it had been Arion’s fault for helping the Rhune get so close.

As the new junior councilor, Mawyndul? was to assist Senior Councilor Vidar in representing the voice of the Miralyith tribe in the Aquila. Mawyndul?’s task was quite simple. He did nothing. Only the senior councilors could vote or speak in the Aquila, which relegated Mawyndul?’s role to that of an observer. He was there to learn, which meant Vidar was another tutor—his third in less than two months.

“The Aquila was formed in the year 8901 as a formalization and public recognition of the group of Fhrey who had been assisting Gylindora Fane for more than a century.” Vidar had stopped, turning back to lecture.