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

Persephone didn’t believe it. Brin, the once happy-go-lucky girl of Dahl Rhen, had lost her parents, her home, and nearly her life—face first—eaten by a creature from a nightmare. Brin wasn’t all right. None of them were. But like the rest the girl continued to move, still pushing forward. Not a single complaint had passed her lips.

Thinking about it, Persephone realized that none of them had complained. They had suffered sickness on a ship filled with hostile Dherg; faced imprisonment in Caric; volunteered to fight a demon; and nearly drowned while falling through cracks into depths so deep it seemed doubtful they would ever get out. But, not a word of protest had been uttered. No one whined, and there were no grumblings, no tears.

Although men were strong like rocks, any stone could crack. Women were more like water. They nurtured life and could shape the hardest granite through unrelenting determination. Persephone had always felt the women of Rhen were a tough lot, more durable, more resilient than its men. They were the ones who carried on, who picked up the pieces whether the battle had been won or lost. Watching Roan, Moya, Suri, and Brin march down the dry riverbed, Persephone felt an enormous sense of pride.

Rain led them down the path, and when it forked, he stopped. At that point, Persephone saw evidence of Dherg activity. A narrow stair led down to a short path, which ended at a vast wall. In the rock face, a twisted crack ran from ceiling to floor. This great fissure disturbed Persephone in a manner she couldn’t sum up in rational thought. Just a crack and yet, it felt ominous. Some primordial instinct warned her away. The longer she looked at it, the more she noticed how unnatural it was. This gap in stone wasn’t a crack at all; it was a tear. Here, the world had ripped open.

“That’s the Agave,” Rain said, pointing toward the crack.

Frost and Flood stared at the dark entrance in awe. “It’s so close,” Frost said excitedly.

“Rain, do you sense Balgargarath? Can you feel him coming?”

The dwarf put an ear to the ground, and then rose and shook his head.

“Please,” Frost begged. “I have to see what’s inside. To come so close only to turn aside…I’ll surely regret it for the rest of my life. You can start heading out if you want, but I can’t go, not yet.”

Persephone’s curiosity was certainly piqued. And Roan, Moya, and especially Brin looked from the Agave to Persephone and then back to the crack. They were all thinking the same thing. They, too, wanted to know what was inside.

She nodded, and Rain led them down the path to the left.

When they reached the crack, Rain held up his glowing stone, offering it to any who wanted to enter. To Persephone’s surprise, neither Frost nor Flood took it. The two dwarfs hesitated, and in that moment of second thoughts, Moya stepped forward, took the stone, and walked in. The rest followed.

Despite all the anticipation, the interior of the Agave was nothing but a small cave. An uneven stone floor was broken up in several places where minor digging had clearly taken place. What had been excavated was stacked near the center of the cave. Some of the stone was used to make furniture: a chair and a table. Thinner slabs were stacked in a neat towering pile several feet high.

The cave appeared to go on into darkness, but Persephone couldn’t see where it went.

“Place is empty,” Moya declared.

Using Rain’s glowstone, the three Dherg started to explore the depths. Persephone watched their bobbing light as they walked as far as they could, which wasn’t far at all. “This can’t be all there is,” Frost said.

Brin took Persephone’s light and began studying the stack of slabs. Reaching up, she took some off the top. Persephone hoped she wouldn’t topple them onto herself.

In the distance, toward the back of the cave, she heard a clacking sound. The dwarfs were doing something. Rain was swinging his pick, grunting with effort and then grumbling in frustration.

Moya gestured toward the opening. “You think it made that hole? Balgargarath, I mean?”

Persephone looked back. The glow from the lichen just outside provided enough light to see the edges of the great crack—the rip.

Persephone shrugged.

“You’re just a wealth of knowledge, aren’t you?” The tone was playful, no sign of reproach. That Moya could find levity when trapped under the world while a six-thousand-year-old demon searched for them was comforting in a way Persephone couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Want answers?” Persephone said. “Talk to Roan. I’m just here for the food.”

The comment brought a smile to Moya’s lips, but then her brows furrowed. “Speaking of Roan.” She looked around, nervously.

Persephone looked as well, and spotted the young woman creeping along in the dark near the wall opposite from the wandering dwarfs.

“Roan!” Moya called and swung her arm in a big arch to coax her over.

“You don’t have to nag after her like that,” Persephone said. “She’s a grown woman.”

“You know how she is. I don’t want her getting lost down here.”

“You don’t want her getting lost? Tell me exactly, where are we?”

Moya frowned. “You know what I mean. What if there’s another one of”—she gestured at Brin—“those things out there? Or the same one still following us. Could you imagine Roan being grabbed?”

Persephone hadn’t thought of that. As awful as it was to see it hugging Brin, it could have been worse. She mimicked Moya’s gesture with a bit more authority. “Roan, this way. Come over here and work on that spear thrower of yours. There’s enough light coming in from the crack.”

Roan nodded and came back to the pair. She sat down and unrolled her bundle.

Arion, Suri, and Minna joined them as well, while the three dwarfs, marked by the moving glowstone, continued their trek. Suri and Minna flopped down on the floor, but Arion remained standing. Suri ruffled the fur around the top of Minna’s head, then lay down, using the wolf as a pillow. Minna didn’t appear to mind. She curled her body around and rested her head on Suri’s shoulder, the two nuzzling each other. Arion’s serenity had faded. Persephone noted twin furrows between her eyes, all the more noticeable because of her bald head.

“Something wrong?” Persephone asked.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” Arion replied.

“Why?”

“The walls,” she said, looking around the interior.

“What about them?” Moya asked.

Suri looked over and nodded. “This place is a dead zone.”

“Dead zone?”

“Like the rols,” Suri explained. “Well…” She looked around, puzzled, and then focused on Arion with a question in her eyes. “Not exactly. Is it? It’s different but also the same somehow.”

Arion nodded. Everyone else looked baffled.

“The Art needs power,” Arion said, “The sun, trees, plants, animals, wind, rain, currents are ah…” She groped for the appropriate Rhunic words.

“They give us the power to do magic,” Suri finished for her.

“None of those things are here,” Arion said.

“So you can’t do magic inside the Agave?” Moya asked.

Both Arion and Suri nodded.

“Bad place to face Balgargarath then,” Moya said.