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

Suri didn’t reply. She peered out at the fog, which was finally thinning. She hoped to see trees, but the gray shapes in the cloud were straight, sharp, and angular.

“You should practice,” Arion said in Rhunic, perhaps because it would be hypocritical to do otherwise.

“I’m afraid. I thought we were going to catch and move a giant, but Gronbach said it was a demon. What do we do with a demon? Will it need to be killed like the little men keep saying? Will I have to crush it, like I did Rapnagar? And what if I mess up again? What if I crush Persephone, or you, or Minna?”

Minna whimpered and looked at Suri, head tilted. Suri scratched behind the wolf’s ears.

“I don’t think it’s a demon,” Arion said. “I’m not sure demons even exist. But that’s all the more reason for you to train. Ferrol knows what we’re going to be running into. The dwarfs certainly made it sound dire. But I’m sure there is a way to solve this problem without resorting to killing. It’s the option of last resort. That’s what people like Nyphron don’t understand. The Instarya’s first impulse is to kill and destroy. But there are better ways. We both feel bad about Rapnagar. If we can take care of Balgargarath without killing, maybe we won’t feel so guilty.”

Suri did feel guilty. Originally, she had blamed Arion for the giant’s death, feeling angry for being called upon before she was ready. She even tried blaming Rapnagar for a time. He—and the people who’d hired him—had set the forest on fire, which made the trees scream so loudly it threatened to tear her heart open. What kind of creature would do such a thing? Didn’t he deserve to die for the death and pain he inflicted? She hated him. He was evil and needed to die. But afterwards…she didn’t feel the same. Afterwards, she hated herself and didn’t know why. It didn’t make sense, or maybe she didn’t want it to. Most of all, she tried not to think about it.

“I’m just not sure I’ll be able to.” Suri looked up at the Fhrey. “If I fail, will you—” She stopped when she saw the fear on Arion’s face.

Suri remembered how the Miralyith had looked in the darkened cell, her face terrified in the glowing green light. Finally, she knew why.

“You’ll die if you do,” she said aloud, realizing in that instant it was true. “Every time you use magic, it hurts. It’s getting worse, isn’t it? That’s why you’re scared. You think that the next time, or the one after that, whatever is wrong with you will be pushed too far. That’s why you need to teach me, because you can’t use the Art anymore.”

“Maybe,” Arion said. “I don’t know. But you’re right; it’s getting worse.” She sat up and clutched her knees, staring at her toes with a faraway focus. “Was so bad the last time, I thought I might die. My head feels…” She struggled for the word. “Plugged, like the power is trapped…it fills, builds, and hurts. Feels like it might—” She made a bursting gesture with her fingers and a silly pfft sound with her lips like a failed whistle. “Maybe in time it could heal. Maybe.”

Suri looked down at her own hands and felt her stomach sink. “I’m afraid I did want to kill Rapnagar. I was angry…hated him for what he and his kind did. But I didn’t plan it. I didn’t mean to. I…I don’t know. It just happened.”

“The power listens to your will, but yes, it must be your will. You were angry, hurt, scared, and didn’t know what to do. It’s difficult to control feelings and emotion.”

Suri nodded. “Still, I feel bad, even though Rapnagar was trying to kill us.”

Arion frowned with sympathy. “Why do you think that is?” She asked as if she already knew the answer.

“I don’t know,” Suri replied, hoping Arion would tell her.

“Maybe the Art is telling you something.”

“Are you saying Rapnagar wasn’t evil?”

“I’m saying that perhaps it is killing without need that is evil.”

Suri continued to look down at her hands. She didn’t like that idea at all. There had been no need to kill Rapnagar.

“But what if…what if it happens again? Frost said if we met Balgargarath, we would want to kill it. I don’t want to kill anything. But if it is a demon, if I’m angry or frightened…maybe I’ll do it again. I don’t want that. I’m…I’m scared, scared of what I’ll do or what I won’t.”

“I know.” Arion leaned toward her. “But I promise that the training will help. The best way to face your fear of failure is to find success. Now, will you let me do what I can to help? Will you let me teach you?”

Suri looked back at her hands and nodded. “Okay, tell me again how to do that thing with my fingers and that chant you mentioned.”

—

They were treated to a fine morning meal in a private dining hall where they ate alone. The stools were short, but the food was good. Ham, sausages, porridge, breads, fruits, eggs: Persephone had never seen so fine a presentation. The group barely touched any of it. She forced herself to swallow a bit of bread soaked in gravy. That was all she managed. Stress and food didn’t mix. Frost, Flood, and Rain packed what was left, placing it in leather satchels, which had been left for that purpose. Water, they said, wouldn’t be an issue, as Neith had plenty of clean fountains and something called aqueducts.

An assortment of magnificent weapons was presented for their choosing. Persephone had never seen some of them before, and the dwarfs provided the names: halberds, pikes, tridents, maces, and flails. All of them were cast out of the gray metal that had been polished to a silver sheen. Looking at the array, Persephone gaped. Such power! How could they have lost their war? She imagined that an army outfitted with such wonders would be invincible. Persephone, however, had her doubts about the six of them no matter how well armed.

Persephone picked a shield that could be slung on her back and thought seriously about a spear, but realized she would be lugging the pole around for nothing, so she settled for a small sword similar to the one Moya wore. Brin, with her slates and marking tools, and Roan, with her sticks and ropes, had no room for more than small blades that might actually have been large daggers. Arion and Suri took nothing, and carried only food and bedding. Moya took a large silver shield, a dagger, which she hooked on to the other side of her belt, and a mean-looking spear tipped with a long, bladed point that had jagged barbs near its base. She tried on a shining helmet cast in the shape of a hawk’s face—the beak forming the nose guard—but it didn’t fit. None of the armor did.