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

Despite having lived in Dahl Rhen for over a month, Raithe knew few faces and fewer names. Gelston’s stood out. He was Brin’s uncle who had survived being hit by lightning. While most of Dahl Rhen’s injured had been left at the first outer village they came to, Gelston had followed the train of people south. “How’s he doing?”

“Walking around and talking but still in pain. Complains about his back and head, a ringing in his ears, and the fact that he can’t sleep.”

“People are calling him blessed by the gods,” Raithe said.

“Don’t think he would agree,” Malcolm replied. “Also don’t think he’s ready to watch his flocks yet.”

Raithe shook his head and leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs to their full length, which put his feet out in the rain. Being tall had its shortcomings. “See, there you go…coddling people again. A little back pain or headache shouldn’t keep a man from getting his work done. His sheep could start a war. He needs to get back to work.”

Malcolm nodded again. “I’m sure he would agree…if he knew he had sheep.”

“How’s that?”

“In addition to the pain, and a really exotic lesion running up his back that looks like a red fern, he has trouble remembering things. I watched him fill a bowl with water, wash his face, dump the water, and then do the whole thing over again a few minutes later without having any idea he’d done it before. Sometimes he remembers the sheep, sometimes he forgets the names of his dogs. Other times he just blanks out entirely. I suppose being blessed has different meanings for some people.”

—

“You need to go to the council meeting today,” Nyphron said.

The Fhrey was towering over him, freshly shaved, which always made him look less impressive—more boyish.

Raithe had been washing the sleep from his face in one of the clear puddles left in the field just beyond Clan Dureya’s wool-roofed settlement. He’d managed a decent night’s sleep and awakened on dry sod to a still smoldering fire.

Raithe wiped his eyes clear with a corner of his leigh mor. “I don’t need to do anything. I’m a chieftain.” He meant it as a joke, sort of. No one was more poorly suited to that role.

Nyphron went on as if he’d never heard Raithe speak. “They’re holding the meeting inside the lodge today. I can’t get in without one of you there.” Nyphron seemed to recognize the absurdity of that statement, because he added, “Without causing a disturbance, that is. I don’t want to brush fur against the grain, not at this point. I can be part of your retinue, the same way I did with Persephone, but that means you have to be there.”

“What’s wrong with tagging along with her?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where did she go?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. What is important is that I missed yesterday’s meeting because of her absence, and I don’t intend to miss another. This is too critical to—”

Raithe didn’t wait; Nyphron didn’t have the answers he needed.

He started walking up the length of the wall, picking up speed and was just short of a jog when he reached the Great Puddle. Without hesitation, Raithe splashed into it, wading up to his knees before slogging out the other side. When he looked back, Nyphron was following, but walking around the pool.

Raithe dashed on and ducked under the wool where Persephone had been staying.

“Where is she?” he demanded of Padera, who was awake and already busy working a spinning wheel, a pile of twisted thread beside her. The old woman was alone. Raithe didn’t know exactly how many people slept under that part of the wool, but he was certain about Persephone, Brin, and Moya. He thought Roan might stay there as well—there was certainly enough room for her—but except for the old woman, the space was vacant.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Where is Persephone?”

“Why ask me?”

“Because you know everything.”

The old woman smiled at this.

“Well?” Raithe asked.

“They left the day before yesterday. You’re a bit slow to inquire. Aren’t you in love with her?”

Raithe stared, stunned.

“Oh, please.” The old woman’s smile turned into a grin. “You just said how I know everything, so don’t be surprised when I do.”

“But…oh, never mind.” Raithe refused to be diverted. “What do you mean they left? They who? And where did they go?”

“Persephone made me promise not to say anything.”

“Padera, you have to tell me.”

“You really do love her, don’t you? I don’t think she fully appreciates that. Persephone sees you as a rash young man, but you’re Dureyan. Your kind grows up faster than what she’s used to. I doubt it’s ever crossed her mind to wonder why you find her attractive—why her instead of Moya. People can be blind like that, you know?”

“Blind I can deal with; mute is a problem. Are you going to tell me?”

Padera thought a moment, both lips sucked in, both eyes squeezed shut. She looked like a gourd left to shrivel after the harvest. “Well, I guess there’s no harm in it now. They’ve gone to Belgreig, the land of the Dherg. Moya, Suri, Brin, Roan, and that Fhrey lady, they all went. Persephone said you refused to fight because Rhune weapons are rubbish, so she’s getting better ones from the dwarfs.”

“How’d she manage that?” Nyphron asked. He’d just arrived from his trip around the little lake, but acted as if he’d heard the whole conversation. “The Dherg don’t allow anyone but their own kind to set foot on the Belgreig shores. Quite touchy in fact. And Miralyith most of all. With Arion along, they’ll be killed on sight.”

“Doubt it. The Dherg invited them,” Padera replied. “I’m not certain how the whole rigmarole shakes out, but Persephone is trying to get Dherg-made weapons for the war. In exchange, Arion and Suri are going to perform some service. Something to do with getting rid of a giant, I think.”

“Interesting.” Nyphron nodded. “I was planning to retake Alon Rhist and use weapons from its armory, but if she manages it, this could be better.”

“Does that mean she’ll be all right?” Raithe asked. “Because they invited her?”

Nyphron shrugged. “The Dherg are notoriously untrustworthy. Deceit is their first language and selfishness their creed, so they expect the same from others. They launched a war with my people because they thought we concealed a fruit that granted eternal life. When we told them no such fruit existed, they thought we were lying because it’s what they would have done. They’ll do anything to get what they want. Personally, I’d never broker a deal with them, but this is a good gamble. If Persephone succeeds, the path ahead could be much easier.”

“And if she fails?” Raithe asked.

Nyphron shrugged again. “That’s what makes it such a good gamble. Even if she dies, we don’t lose anything of value.”

For the first time, Raithe regretted leaving Shegon’s sword embedded in the courtyard’s pillar.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Gronbach




It is funny how misleading first impressions can be. When I initially met Gronbach, I didn’t like him. It took a whole week to truly despise that festering pimple on the backside of deceit, that bearded lie, that dwarf.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN