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

He glanced at each of them. When he looked at Persephone, she saw impatience in his eyes.

Overhead, gulls cried. Near the lodge a door creaked on a weak hinge.

The Fhrey sighed, and disappointment replaced impatience. Nyphron clapped his hands against his sides. “May all the gods that be, lend you wisdom in your decision.”

With that, Nyphron walked away.

—

The first clan meeting in several hundred years had adjourned for the day after Nyphron’s speech, in order for the chieftains to confer with their advisers and reflect on what had been said.

The next morning, they met again, each sitting in the same chair. Tegan started things off with his own speech. His tone was less pompous, less arrogant. This time he spoke about the necessity of fighting the enemy. Reglan had always thought Tegan was the smartest of the chieftains, and Persephone saw evidence of this in how he avoided the words Fhrey and god.

After him, Harkon spoke, saying much the same, but adding that uniting the clans was essential. Krugen repeated the others’ words and included the suggestion of creating a list of candidates for the position of keenig. This was agreed upon, and the second clan meeting ended to allow the chieftains to confer with their advisers as to the names that would be offered.

Persephone considered going to Raithe. He and Malcolm had made their camp with Bergin, his daughter, Myrtis, and Filson the Lamp. Except for the meetings, she hadn’t seen him since that evening on the beach, probably a good thing. It was easy for her to forget just how young he was. She’d been unfair. Persephone had spent decades immersed in leadership. She was used to looking out for her clan. But Raithe didn’t yet know what it was like to feel responsibility for others. He hadn’t even been a father.

She liked Raithe, respected him, but he wanted more from her than she could give. In her heart, she was still married to Reglan. The memory of her husband had been tarnished by his betrayal and cowardice, but he was still a part of her. She continued to meet him in her dreams, and she was reminded of his devotion each time she fastened her bracken mor with the copper brooch he’d given her. Persephone could still recall the sound of his voice, the smell of his hair. In some small way he was still alive—just away somewhere—and she couldn’t imagine being with another man. The very idea was ridiculous, but Raithe didn’t see it that way. Men viewed the world differently, especially young men. Perhaps it was better that she kept her distance, for his sake as well as hers. What she had to say could be said in the next council meeting.

—

The third meeting began in the same chairs, and Persephone wondered if the servants put them in the same places each day, or just left them in the courtyard all night.

The gathering began with Tegan again. “I would like to open this meeting by nominating the obvious person for the task: myself.” He said this while arching his back and placing his palms on his chest in a noble, yet humble, gesture.

Persephone expected reactions of disapproval, but no one so much as coughed. The other chieftains sat patiently, listening.

“I am Tegan, chieftain of Clan Warric, son of Egan the Stone, son of Hagen, son of Gan. My bloodline traces back to Bran of Pines, Shield of Gath of Odeon, who slew Orr the one-eyed dragon on the Banks of Wailing. I have the blood of heroes in my veins. My lineage is undisputed. Warric is a great and fierce clan with hundreds of experienced spearmen.” He held out his own spear, a fine seasoned shaft with a beautiful jade point. “We mine the stone for these tips in our mountains, and my people are never wanting for meat.”

Tegan went on discussing the virtues of Clan Warric, and his own personal prowess in battle, bringing up a fight he’d won seven years earlier against a challenger in which he’d outsmarted the younger man, who was also bigger and faster. He talked for a long time before finally sitting down. He did so with a grin on his face, as if they would all cheer and agree that he should be the keenig.

They didn’t.

Instead, Harkon stood up and said, “Well said, Tegan. Your lineage and abilities are formidable indeed, and I think you might make a fine Shield when I am appointed keenig.” Harkon then went on to explain why he should be made leader of the clans and pointed out that he was descended from Melen himself, the founder of his clan, who was said to have been a giant who slew an army of goblins with the trunk of an oak tree.

Persephone wasn’t at all surprised when Krugen stood up next and also nominated himself. This was why no one had complained about Tegan. They each planned on doing the same, and they did. Next came Alward, who, oddly enough, given his recent appointment to chieftain, managed to trace his lineage back to a demigod hero who helped Rasra, the patron god of Clan Nadak, defeat the West Wind.

They took their turns while going around the circle, and when it was Lipit’s time, he took advantage of his role as council host to impress the others with a demonstration. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a cohort of several hundred men who entered the courtyard and surrounded the chairs. Each was tall and naked to the waist, lean muscles on display. They carried large wooden shields and fine spears. Their faces were painted with fierce streaks of white and red that made them look ferocious. Lipit raised his hand and the crowd of men clamored spears against shields and shouted, roaring at the sky. They stopped when he lowered his hand.

Then it was Persephone’s turn, but the eyes of the chieftains skipped over her and turned instead to Raithe.

Persephone stood up.

This incited strange looks. For an instant, she considered nominating herself just to watch their faces, and to see if they would extend her the same courtesy they had provided one another. But unlike the rest, Persephone wasn’t there for political gain. She didn’t want to be keenig. She wanted to win the war.

“I nominate for keenig…Raithe of Dureya.” She said it simply, without drama, and didn’t bother to explain who his father or grandfather was, or what great ancestor he might have had. She merely pointed at him. “He knows how to kill them. He’s the only one who has proven he can. No one else can claim that. And that’s what we really need. His clan is gone, and he doesn’t have any existing treaties or alliances that would incite jealousy. As such, he can be fair and impartial. But most important, while each of you might be descendants of heroes and legends, he is one.”

She sat back down, folding her hands on her lap and waited.

They all looked at Raithe again. Unlike with the other nominations, she saw surprise and even a degree of affirmation in their eyes. Krugen and Alward—whether they knew it or not—were nodding.

“While I appreciate Persephone’s vote of confidence, there’s only one problem,” Raithe told them. “I refuse to be keenig.”

The chieftains looked puzzled.