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

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Nyphron entered the lodge with Sebek at his side. He had no right to be there, but judging from the look on his face, Raithe knew he wasn’t going to be stopped, and Lipit’s men wouldn’t try. The Galantian leader crossed the length of the room and stood before the council, who were once more seated in their ring of chairs—one chair still empty.

“What’s going on?” Nyphron demanded. “What did the Gula messenger say?”

“The Gula-Rhunes have chosen Udgar to be keenig of the north,” Tegan said. “He’s challenging the keenig of the south to battle. The victor will be the ruler of the Ten Clans.”

“So they aren’t going to attack?” Nyphron asked, surprised.

Tegan shook his head. “Maybe they realize that reducing our numbers with infighting would weaken our ranks and hamper our ability to defeat your people. The Gula apparently have more confidence in the cause than we do, but they won’t have Raithe as keenig. Making the challenge is their way to ensure that. It seems they hate him…his whole family.”

Nyphron exchanged a look with Raithe.

“They expect we’ll put forth Raithe and are confident Udgar will kill him.”

“He would. Udgar killed my brother,” Raithe explained. “And Didan was bigger and a more experienced fighter than me.”

“What did you say in return?” Nyphron asked.

“We asked for two days to choose our champion, and we sent runners to the nearest Rhulyn villages,” Lipit replied.

“And what will happen in two days?”

“That’s what we’re trying to decide.” Tegan folded his arms. “We don’t have enough men to offer a serious challenge. The Gula-Rhunes have close to twenty thousand. Twenty thousand! Who knew there were so many?”

“I did,” Nyphron said. “And that’s just a fraction of the number who still wait in the High Spear Valley.”

Tegan frowned. “And did you also know they would bring so many to the meeting? Lipit’s warriors number only three hundred. Rhen brought only two hundred able men. We might boost our numbers another four or five hundred from the nearby villages. We have walls, but not everyone can fit inside the dahl. And our runners will take too long to return, assuming they get through at all.”

“I say we accept the challenge,” Harkon said. “This might be the best way to solve the problem. The old ways are best.”

“Yes, we should let the gods decide,” Lipit said.

“The only problem is that Raithe is convinced he can’t prevail,” Tegan added.

“I’ll fight him,” Nyphron said.

“We’ve already told you that’s not possible. A Fhrey can’t be keenig,” Tegan replied.

“I don’t care about your silly laws!” Nyphron exploded. He threw up his hands and began to stalk about the hall. “This is war—war with my people—people who are superior to you in all ways except numbers. It isn’t some stupid inner-clan skirmish or a game. If we lose—we lose everything. We have no time for foolishness. The Fhrey are the best in the world. Estramnadon exacts tribute from the Dherg only because they chose not to extinguish them. They keep the goblins in their holes and the giants in their caves. What chance do you think you have without me?”

He wiped a hand over his face, trying to calm down. He took a breath, let it out, and then drew another. “There’s no greater power in the world than he who sits on the Forest Throne. But we can win, and we can win for two reasons. First, because the fane doesn’t expect sheep to wage war. And second, because you have me. I can teach your people to fight, and I can lead your people to victory. Without me, without my leadership, all of you will die.”

“My lord Nyphron,” Tegan intervened. “Even if all you say is true, consider this from our perspective. How can we place our people under the rule of a Fhrey when we are risking our lives to cast off the Fhrey’s influence? How could we even explain that to our people? I’m afraid that despite all your good intentions your role can never be more than as a valued adviser.”

Nyphron gritted his teeth but said nothing else.

“Which brings us back to who should answer the challenge,” Tegan went on, looking to all those in the ring. “One of us will need to step forward.”

The Rhulyn chieftains faced one another in silence. For days, they had done nothing, but they still looked exhausted: shadows beneath their eyes, shoulders slumped, and dull expressions. Worry and fear had beaten them before the battle began. Still, they all had weapons. Belt daggers mostly, but Tegan had an ax next to his chair, and Harkon had his spear by the door. No one trusted the Gula-Rhunes not to attack without warning.

Alward stood to speak. “Would it be such an awful thing to have a Gula keenig?”

“The Gula are an unforgiving people,” Raithe said, “who have always hated the Rhulyn-Rhunes. If by some miracle you defeat the Fhrey, you may find life under the rule of the Gula is worse than you have now.”

“And yet you doom us to this by your refusal to fight,” Krugen said.

“I’m not dooming you to anything. I’m merely stating a fact. I can’t defeat Udgar. If you want victory, I’m not your man. You’ll have to choose someone else.”

The chieftains looked around at one another. Resignation filled their faces, the bleak, joyless acceptance of inevitable defeat. Krugen looked down at his lush robe and his hands as if he would soon need to say goodbye to both.

Krugen huffed, not having it in him to laugh. “Does anyone here honestly believe they can beat Udgar in battle?”

No one spoke for a long time. Eyes shifted from face to face, but in the end, they all looked at the floor.

Tegan leaned forward to the edge of his chair. The chieftain appeared to be the same age as Raithe’s father had been. “You must do it,” he said to Raithe with a finality to his words. “There’s no other choice.”

“The Gula-Rhunes have more skill and experience in battle than the Dureyans,” Raithe replied. “Udgar looks to be a fine warrior. He’s seen many more battles than I, and if he killed my brother, then I really have little chance.”

“Perhaps not, but little is better than none. Besides, you need to avenge your brother.”

“I hated my brothers,” Raithe said, and sighed. “Dead for three years and they’re still trying to kill me.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


Facing the Demon




You never know what you are capable of until you are so desperate as to try anything. You might be pleased or disappointed, but always, always surprised.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN