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

“Behind us somehow.” Udgar stared back toward the hills. “Yes. That would be the plan, to trap us against the sea. We should have known!” He glared at Raithe. “Your father isn’t dead. He’s behind us preparing the attack.”

Udgar spit at Raithe, then howled like a wild thing. He squeezed his great fists and raised one at the Dureyan. “We won’t die easily. We’ll take you with us, so help me Mynogan!”

“It’s not like that at all. You are invited to take part in the council.”

“Ah-hah! Hear that!” Siegel shouted. “That’s their vile plan. They’ll take us into the dahl and slit our throats.”

The three were backing away.

“No. No, that’s not it. I’m telling you the truth,” Raithe assured them.

“I will kill you when we meet again, son of Coppersword. And we will!” Udgar declared.

Raithe and Tegan watched the Gula chieftains retreat into the swarm of bodies, and soon they heard the sound of horns.

Tegan turned to Raithe. “You were right. Lipit would have been a better choice.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


Balgargarath




Some things are simply unimaginable right up until you are looking at them, and even then, you might not believe. Love is that way; so is death. Balgargarath was, without a doubt, in that limited assortment of the impossible, but then the name should have been a clue. When something sounds like a giant vomiting up a dwarf, you should not expect sunshine and daisies.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN





Something is coming.

Persephone couldn’t hear anything, but she knew what was happening. A force of nature was on its way, and she sensed it like a rising storm.

Arion took Suri’s hand, and said, “We have to go out near the pool. Everyone needs to come. She might need your strength as well.” The Fhrey looked calm, not at all frightened. This made Persephone feel better. The Fhrey was Persephone’s standard of measure, and so long as she showed no concern, Persephone felt hopeful.

They followed Arion without question, without a word. Everyone understood somehow that the final moment had arrived, and it deserved respectful silence. By the time they returned to the cavern, Persephone could hear it. A sound came at them from far in the distance. The noise was faint but attention grabbing, a harsh shrieking like the desperate wail of a child or the tearing of stone.

They crossed through the glowing blue chamber until Arion and Suri stood beside the pool. No longer still as glass, it quivered. Rings rippled out to the edges, then rebounded, running to the center again.

“Everyone stay back,” Arion shouted over the noise, her voice small in that vast place. “Give us room.”

“Why are we here?” Flood asked. “What do you expect us to do?”

“Just stand there.”

The sound was getting so loud Persephone could feel it, the shriek of shearing stone. Overhead, stalactites shook, ringing like wind chimes. One fell and shattered on the path ahead. Two more broke free and crashed with such violence that Persephone and all the others jumped.

Then the rear wall of the cavern exploded.

Rocks burst out at them. The force blew Persephone’s hair back and pelted her with pebbles. Out of the ominous cloud of billowing dust, a giant hoof like that of a great goat struck the ground hard enough to stagger those watching.

Dust fell away, and in that eerie blue glow Persephone finally saw Balgargarath. The demon’s lower body was that of a giant goat, with hooved feet and shaggy legs. Its upper body was that of a powerful man, but its head was too grotesque to be believed. Withered, leathery skin wrapped muscle and bone the way a sheet stretched over a corpse. Twin horns, twisted and curled, jutted out from either side of its barren skull where a piggish nose with flaring nostrils divided two tiny yellow eyes. A huge mouth hung open, displaying rows of pointed teeth behind glistening lips.

The behemoth paused, its little yellow eyes focusing on them. Then, drawing up to its full height, so that its horns scraped the ceiling, Balgargarath let forth a deafening roar. Two more stalactites fell, but if their shattering made noise, Persephone never heard it over the magnitude of its roar.

Persephone froze, not by conscious thought, nor by a magical spell; she simply couldn’t move. Fear seized every muscle in her body. She’d even stopped breathing. How could I have ever imagined the Fhrey were gods when something like this was in the world? Of course, who could have dreamed such things existed at all. Demon didn’t do it justice. Perhaps there was no word that could. This was the nightmare that made nightmares wake up screaming.

“Use the movement, use the dust, use the vibration of the sound,” Arion shouted at Suri, who stood beside her. Both of them were well ahead of the rest—two tiny bugs at the hooved feet of a horned mountain.

Suri was singing—singing to Balgargarath! Persephone knew how it was supposed to work, she’d caught on that magic was somehow wrought by vocalizing melodic sounds, but she didn’t understand how anyone could stand before such a thing and sing. Even Minna had retreated several feet, her hair up and teeth bared.

Still, Suri sang. The tune was similar to the one she’d performed before, only louder this time, shifting in rhythm and melody like someone tuning an instrument. The tiny eyes of the beast focused with some effort on the two ants before it, and it took a step forward. The ground shook with its motion. Persephone felt the tremor, and saw bigger ripples in the pool. The massive hooves dragged, slowed. The beast roared again and Persephone saw it then. Balgargarath was sinking.

The stone appeared to melt at the demon’s feet, turning into tar in much the same way as the dirt had when Arion trapped Rapnagar. This was more dramatic, a suspenseful bubbling up of viscous rock, and the sluggish descent of the hapless victim. The behemoth roared with anger and frustration as it struggled to claw forward.

“Now!” Arion ordered.

Suri’s arms went out to either side then she brought them together in a clap of her hands. As she did, the walls at the far end of the cavern mimicked her. Persephone couldn’t believe what she saw. Solid stone walls, the size of cliffs, hurtled at each other. Then an instant later—whether as an additional act of magic, or the mere result of moving the walls—the ceiling came down, teeth and all. Everyone rushed back, retreating up the path toward the Agave.

A cloud of dust and a rain of tiny rocks showered them as they ran.

“You did it!” Arion praised Suri in Rhunic. “I knew you could. It is—” She stopped and then spun around. She shook her head slowly from side to side as disbelief painted her face.

Persephone never understood the phrase to feel as if someone is walking over your grave. It didn’t make sense that someone alive could have a grave. But at that moment, as fear rose on Arion’s face, Persephone’s heart sank, gooseflesh rose on her arms, and she understood.

“Impossible,” Arion said in Fhrey.