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

“Has there been a good place?” Persephone asked.

“Out there”—Arion pointed past the tear—“by the pool, there are some sources to pull from. Not much, but droplets do fall and there is the lichen. It’s something at least.”

“We’ll leave as soon as they come back.” Persephone gestured toward where the dwarfs had disappeared.

Everyone except Brin and Roan turned to watch the slow progress of the glowstone. It stopped. They were probably speaking privately. Brin was still taking the carefully stacked column apart, and Roan was studying her little spears. Persephone found it strange how the two could be so single-minded even in that place. Like children, she thought.

“I need something to catch the wind, something light,” Roan said. “Something to help it fly.” She had a habit of talking aloud to herself, which was why Persephone, Brin, and Moya usually ignored her. But Suri looked over.

“Like a feather?” the mystic asked.

Roan’s eyes brightened. “Feathers, yes. Feathers would work perfectly, I think.”

Suri reached into her bag and pulled out the handful of hawk feathers. Roan grinned. “Wonderful.”

Frost and Flood finally approached, with long faces and slow steps. Frost was tugging hard on his beard, and Flood watched his feet, looking as if he might cry.

“There’s nothing here,” Frost said wearily. “The cave goes back some, but then…” The dwarf stopped with a perplexed look.

“Then what?” Persephone asked.

“Stops…sort of.” Flood said. “There’s an opening, but we can’t get through.”

“Rain tried chipping it away, but nothing happened,” Frost said. “He’s still sitting there trying to figure it out. It’s like…it’s like the world ends here.”

“So much effort, so much risked, and all for nothing,” Flood whimpered. “There isn’t any treasure.”

“Yes, there is,” Brin declared. She had managed to disassemble nearly half the stack of tablets, carefully placing each on the ground, where she examined them with the glowstone. “This is it. This is the treasure.”

The dwarfs looked at her more than skeptically—they shot her looks of irritation as if she’d made a joke at a funeral.

“Those are just pieces of stone, Brin,” Moya said.

“No they aren’t,” the girl said. “These are tablets. Just like I was making.” She held one up and positioned the gem below it so they could see chiseled markings on its surface. “These are words. This is a story. It’s marked down in the same language as the rol symbols. And…” She looked up excitedly. “I think I can understand some of it.”

The dwarfs, who had never lost their frowns, began to scowl and shake their heads in disgust.

What did they expect? Persephone thought. Gold, diamonds? Well, certainly not etched tablets.

“What do they say?” Roan asked, already working to add the feathers to her little spears. She made a split along the wood’s shaft and slid the straightest feathers through it.

“I’ve been trying to work that out.” The girl was all smiles. She pointed to the first tablet. “This one is actually a key.”

This caught Frost and Flood’s attention. “A key to what?” Frost said.

“To this language—like the one we’re speaking. These symbols are abstract ideas. This first tablet is a map to work out how to understand the others. Don’t you see? Whoever did this wanted the people who came after to understand. They were trying to communicate.”

Brin paused, seeing the blank stares, and sighed. “Whoever was sealed in here left a message that I can hear by using these tablets. Understand?”

Frost looked at Roan, then Arion, Brin, and finally Persephone. “Are all of you witches?”

“It’s not magic,” Brin said.

“You can hear the voice of someone who was here thousands of years ago using hunks of stone, and you don’t call that magic?” Flood said.

Brin started to answer when Arion stopped her. “Give up now. Explanations will only be a waste of time. Just accept that to them, it’s magic.”

The Keeper looked as if she was about to debate the point, but then something seemed to dawn on her. For a moment, she and Arion shared a revelation that left Brin wide-eyed. In that exchange, Persephone felt a twinge of envy. The girl had learned a cosmic truth—had gained a rare glimpse into the wondrous world of gods and had received some divine gift of understanding not meant for mere mortals.

“The one who was here…” Frost began, “was an Ancient. He predated the gods.” He reached out as if to touch the tablets but stopped short. “You’re saying these contain his words?”

Brin looked down at the tablet in her hand and nodded. “I suppose so.”

“What does it say?” Persephone asked.

“I’m still working that out, but I think it’s about the creation of the world. It speaks of Drome, Ferrol, and”—she looked at Persephone and smiled—“Mari.”

“Mari? Our Mari?”

“I think so.”

“What about that?” Suri asked, gesturing to the table.

The mystic and Brin moved toward it. “I’m guessing this is where the Old One made all the markings.”

The Dherg, weighed down by disappointment, sat on the stony floor. Moya took the pause to lie down and relax.

Everyone’s attention was elsewhere, which was why only Persephone noticed when Minna’s head came up off the floor and looked intently toward the entrance. An instant later Arion looked in the same direction.

“Suri,” Arion whispered.

Minna began to growl.

“Suri, it’s time.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


The Gula-Rhunes




If all the stars had fallen from the sky and gathered into three groups, it would have mimicked the arrival of the Gula-Rhunes, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN





The rains had stopped. The chieftains’ meeting was held outside again, and Raithe was back. His entourage had grown, and behind his chair was Malcolm, his senior adviser; the boy Tesh, his Shield; and Nyphron, whose official capacity was explained as foreign affairs adviser.

Four people representing a clan of two. Raithe looked at the boy, who was still dressed in tattered clothes that were cinched tightly around his waist, revealing a starved body. Well, one and a half.

Raithe hadn’t planned to return to the council. He had no real idea what he intended to do after his dramatic exit. That was supposed to be his farewell to the world of politics, his final word on the subject of keenig. Most of what he’d said was addressed to Persephone, and she wasn’t there anymore.

They’ve gone to Belgreig, the land of the Dherg…With Arion along, they’ll be killed on sight.

Raithe stole a glance at the empty chair where Persephone should be sitting. None of the other chieftains had even asked where she was.

Persephone had been gone for only a few days. Raithe didn’t know whether that was long enough to cross the Blue Sea. Walking from Dahl Rhen to Tirre had taken the refugees nearly a week. Crossing a sea seemed like a bigger feat.