Age of Myth

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “I don’t think Shayla would have hurt me, but during that winter—that long, cold winter—I wasn’t certain. Hunger can drive anyone crazy. I saw it on the dahl. Reglan executed people who had stolen from the granary. He told us it was necessary to maintain order, a deterrent and an example. But those killings also saved food, allowing others to live. When hungry enough, anyone is capable of doing terrible things. And Shayla wasn’t the only bear. Without enough food, none of them could sleep through the winter, and it was too dangerous to climb up here with all the ice. I left the food down below, whistled, and moved away.” Maeve looked into the darkness. “I’ve never been inside.”

  “Neither have I,” Suri said.

  Out of habit, Suri looked for Minna and felt a twinge of sadness. They’d done everything together. This would be the biggest adventure of all, and it hurt that Minna wouldn’t be with her. She was certain the wolf was just as obsessed with the cave. Suri would have to remember everything that happened so she could tell Minna afterward, probably the only way to be forgiven.

  Suri led the way in.

  The cave was dry. Most of the ones near the river had ceilings that dripped and pools of water near the entrance. This was dusty and stony with the ends of roots and packed dirt. She spotted fur—brown fur caught on the wall and shed on the floor. There were claw marks as well. Places Grin sharpened her weapons. Despite its impressive reputation, the cave wasn’t huge. The light from outside bounced in enough that once her eyes adjusted, she could see all the way to the back. The rear of the cave was a round alcove, a cozy den where Suri pictured the bear curling up for long winter naps. To the left was a pile, and Suri stopped when she realized what it was—a pile of bones. She saw the skulls of deer, foxes, squirrels, and sheep, but she also saw the unmistakable domes of human skulls. She counted eight, but the pile was deep. Strange how Grin had the same morbid decorating habits as the chieftains of Dahl Rhen.

  As expected, Grin the Brown wasn’t home. Suri looked over her shoulder, thinking that Maeve might be frozen with fear, especially if she saw the bones. To the mystic’s surprise, the old woman pushed past with an eager look on her flushed face.

  “What do we do?” she asked. Her loud, excited voice was magnified by the rock. Hearing her own echo, she grinned.

  Suri walked to the nest that was covered in fur from a shed winter’s coat and said, “This is where she sleeps.” Opening a pouch that hung from her belt, she scooped up a handful of salt. “Elan, Grand Mother of All, and Eton, Lord of the Sky, help us free this poor girl from the demon spirit that holds her captive.”

  With that, Suri carefully sprinkled salt over the nest. “Demons can’t abide salt,” she told Maeve. “When Grin steps into her bed, the morvyn will recoil just as you or I would jump back after stepping on hot coals. Can’t help it. The spirit and the body will separate, and when that happens, you need to call to your daughter. The demon won’t cross the salt, but Shayla can. Once she’s in your arms, the demon will lose its control and be forced to flee.”

  “Will she remain a bear?” Maeve asked.

  Suri thought a moment. She honestly wasn’t certain. This was her first exorcism. “I’m not sure, but since the child was changed into a bear by the morvyn, there’s a good chance she’ll return to her natural form when it leaves.” Suri pointed toward the back of the cave. “We should wait back there.”

  Suri spread out more salt, creating a line that the bear would have to cross to reach them. When done, the two sat down side by side, and Maeve returned the staff to Suri. She took it and smiled. The trap was set.

  —

  The wolf was gone, the door was open, and the way was clear. No one made any attempt to stop Arion as she took her first tentative steps out of the room. The old woman with the missing teeth, Padera, had come up to watch her, but she didn’t say a word. Not that Arion could have understood her if she’d tried. The old woman spoke only the Rhune language, and Arion had picked up too few words to make meaningful conversation. Apparently, Padera had no instructions to stop Arion from leaving.

  Arion used the wall, running her palm along the rough wood. Even after so many days, she was still dizzy.

  Might not be from the injury. Could be from being in bed for so long.

  The dizziness would likely pass, but she still couldn’t feel the world. After so long, she began to consider the possibility that the injury had crippled her permanently. The lack of feeling, the total numbness of spirit, and her inability to sense the passage of time or the life force of existence frightened Arion. She felt exposed, helpless, and ordinary.

  She thought again of Celeste, thankful she had broken things off. She couldn’t face her, not like this. Much, maybe all, of what had attracted her ex-lover was the power, stature, and position Arion held within the Miralyith.

  Will I still have any of that? I should have died. Better if I had. It’s not like I’m still in my first millennium. I’ve had a good long life.

  Then she realized something else. Maybe she was grasping at figments, but perhaps she could teach—continue to pass down lessons exactly as Fenelyus had hoped.

  Arion gripped the banister and descended the stairs.

  This was the first she’d seen of the Great Hall with its soot-stained pillars and ceiling. Ash was everywhere. Dirt and grass had been tracked in across the threshold. The floor was so stained with grime and melted wax that she imagined the dark spots to be blood. Luckily, she wasn’t nauseous, or her journey might have ended there. She walked through an empty room, focusing on the light entering the double doors.

  The fresh air that greeted her at the exit was wonderful and helped level the world. She wasn’t sure what she’d find outside. Arion only vaguely remembered her arrival and didn’t recall looking around much. She’d been focused entirely on the Galantians—a nearly fatal mistake.

  How many Rhunes live here? What do Rhunes do? Is Nyphron still in the village?

  Arion realized she had no idea how long she’d been in that room. Days certainly, but how long she’d been unconscious and how many days had passed after that remained mysteries. It could be autumn for all she knew. Looking outside, Arion was relieved to discover spring flowers and new grass. Unless a whole year had slipped by, she couldn’t have been recovering for more than a week or two.

  The morning sun was high, smoke rose from cook fires scattered everywhere, and Rhunes of all ages scurried about. Many of them looked old, and she was reminded how short their lives were. As incredible as it seemed, she’d heard none of them lived beyond a single millennium. One rumor held that they didn’t even live a full century, but she couldn’t believe that. What’s the point of bestowing sentience on a creature with a life span hardly longer than dew on a summer’s day?

  “And then I swear, with Ferrol as my witness, that…” a boisterous voice said in Fhrey, only to continue in the Rhune language, which Arion couldn’t understand.

  Hearing the sound of Fhrey voices, Arion was relieved. Gingerly stepping out of the lodge and onto the porch, she saw her kinsmen just down the steps. The Galantians lounged around a fire, drinking from large wooden cups and speaking a mix of the two languages, drifting from one to the other as if they couldn’t tell the difference. The giant began singing an unflattering song about a goblin king named Balod. He abruptly stopped after spotting her. They all looked over, then scrambled to their feet, reaching for weapons.

  Arion didn’t move, didn’t want to provoke them. She glanced at the creature that had sent the column of fire her way. Arion had no idea what it was but knew if it cast that spell again she’d burn. She watched the thing’s yellow eyes as they watched her.

  Can it tell? Can it sense I’m defenseless?

  Nyphron set his cup down and approached her slowly. He was wearing his sword, and this time his hand did rest on the pommel. The other Fhrey who had visited her room, the one with the pair of swords, leapt to his side. No one else moved or spoke. They probably were waiting for her.

&nbs
p; “Good morning,” she finally said.

  Nyphron took another tentative step toward her. “You’re well, then?”

  She didn’t dare shake her head for fear of losing balance. “Yes, I’m better.”

  “I appreciate you speaking to me. Thank you for that. Have you considered what I’ve said?” he asked.

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  Arion considered her words carefully, and in her hesitation the Galantians grew nervous. “I’m willing to take your proposal back to Fane Lothian. I’m also going to forgive the assault upon me that I’d otherwise hold you responsible for. I should mention that such an act carries a death sentence. Instead, I’ll tell the fane I fell off a horse.”

  She could see the surprise and hope in their eyes. This was more than they had expected.

  “But there is a condition,” she added.

  Suspicion filled their faces. At the same moment, Arion saw that a number of Rhunes had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her. She no longer had access to the Art, but she still had the power to halt people where they stood.

  “I require a service from you. One of the Rhunes who cared for me, a young tattooed girl named Suri—the one who has the pet wolf—has gone into the forest to confront a bear. Do you know the one of which I speak?”

  Nyphron nodded.

  “Good. I want you to find this girl and return her here.”

  “And why would I do that?” Nyphron said.

  “Because I fear she is in great danger.”

  “So?”

  “I was charged by the fane with the task of returning you to Estramnadon, but despite what you might think, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to bring you back as gently and as kindly as possible. Like many back home, I feel your tribe has been treated unfairly. So I’m willing to risk the fane’s displeasure and see that your grievances are heard. That is what I’m willing to do for you, but only if you do what I ask. Her fate and your own are now bound. Should Suri die, if she is fatally injured or otherwise lost, I won’t help you. Instead, I’ll become your most bitter enemy. All the stories you’ve heard about Miralyith are true, so believe me when I say you don’t want that to happen.”

  “You want us to save a Rhune?” Nyphron asked.

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Given that Suri left several hours ago and is intent on fighting a bear that will most assuredly kill her, are you certain you want to waste time asking unnecessary questions?”

  Nyphron spun. “Galantians—to arms!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Demons in the Forest

  She is always there. I see the Great Bear every night in the star-filled sky. To most people, it is just a group of stars. But to those who lived during that terrible time, they will always represent Grin the Brown. Even though I never personally saw her, stories of that beast scared me to death.

  —THE BOOK OF BRIN

  The sun had set, and Persephone clung to the light of the full moon as she plunged through the wood. She had no time to think, no time to dread. The wolf was pulling her hard, and all of them struggled to keep up. They followed a path of sorts, a division through the trees that at times felt familiar. Traveling so quickly and by moonlight, Persephone wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she recognized things. Before long, she was certain they were on the same trail they had followed the day the wolf pack attacked.

  You were going exactly the wrong way…I figured you were hunting Grin. I followed your trail, and you were heading straight for her cave.

  Persephone had shivered at the idea back then, and now she was intentionally rushing in that direction.

  We don’t have to fight it, she reminded herself.

  If they were lucky, they wouldn’t see the bear at all. The goal was to save Suri and Maeve, not slay the beast. Still, for whatever reason she felt a weight upon her. First her son, then her husband, and now it was Persephone’s turn. The gods had sent the bear as a curse on her family, and she was all that remained.

  Is there any chance I will survive this night?

  Even with that sobering thought, she had to go. She couldn’t turn her back on Suri and Maeve. And she had to keep her feet following the old oak’s path. How this was going to save her people from extinction she didn’t know, but she had put herself into the hands of the gods and ancient spirits. Her fate was theirs to twist.

  Reglan had a child with Maeve. The thought lingered like a bad aftertaste. It hovered, unapproachable, impossible to believe—but it was the truth.

  Was it a single night of passion or a lifelong love affair?

  If she thought hard enough, perhaps Persephone could recall knowing glances, awkward or halted conversations, moments that seemed insignificant at the time. But Persephone didn’t want to remember. In her heart, she wanted to preserve the memory of Reglan: honest, courageous, and a leader who acted in the best interests of others. He was faithful. He defended the weak. He protected the innocent. Already that image was losing color, the impression eroding as Persephone struggled through the woods, imagining an infant abandoned in the dark and a mother’s cries.

  I never heard a grown woman sound like that before. You’d have thought I was killing her.

  She shook her head in disbelief. What an awful judge of people I am, first Iver the Carver and now my own husband. Men I’ve known my whole life yet never really knew at all. How could I have missed what Reglan and Konniger were capable of?

  Minna had endless stamina, but Persephone didn’t. They were moving steadily uphill, and she was soaked with sweat and desperate for a break. With all her might, she pulled on Konniger’s belt to rein the wolf in. They came to a stop in a world of trees, moonlight, and fireflies.

  “Water,” Persephone said to Malcolm between breaths. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, which was equally sweat-covered and provided no help.

  Malcolm, who had caught up with them while they were still in the open field, had arrived with a waterskin and weapons. In addition to helping himself to a spear and Reglan’s shield from the lodge, he’d fetched an extra shield and spear for Persephone—and not just any spear. Malcolm had pulled down the great Black Spear of Math, the founder of Dahl Rhen and the grandson of Gath, that had been mounted above the First Chair.

  “Weren’t we here before?” Malcolm asked, puffing for air and looking around at the trees.

  “Thinking the same thing,” Raithe replied. He carried Persephone’s spear for her since she couldn’t manage it and the wolf at the same time, but he had showed her how to fix the shield to her back.

  Minna sat, looking anxious, and started to whimper again.

  “I have to say I’m a little disappointed we haven’t caught them yet,” Persephone said. “I mean, how fast can that old woman walk? She’s more than fifty years old. I had no idea she was so spry.”

  “How much farther do you think until the bear’s cave?” Malcolm asked. He leaned against a tree trunk and took a swallow after Persephone had returned the waterskin.

  “I have no idea, but we’re going to be too late, aren’t we?” Persephone was peering up through the leaves at what little of the dark sky she could see. “At least there’s a full moon tonight. That will help with whatever we find up there, right?”

  “What if we find the bear?” Malcolm asked. “What do we do then?”

  “Well,” Raithe said, “we don’t want to fight it. Just need to drive it off. So don’t surround the thing. Give it a clear escape route. Then jab at it and make noise. If it comes at one of us, that person should fall back and the others should advance, jabbing to drive it away. It shouldn’t stay around.”

  “Just point and stick, right?” Malcolm said.

  “Yep.”

  When Persephone remembered how The Brown had slaughtered a pack of wolves and then lingered to beat on a stone door because it smelled humans inside, she wondered about the likelihood of the bear not sticking around. The Brown preferred hum
an flesh.

  Dammit, Konniger, why didn’t you tell them? Why did you let them go?

  Minna stood up. Instead of pulling forward, she turned back and began to growl at noises. Behind them, they heard snaps and rustling; then faces emerged from the darkness.

  At that moment Minna bolted. Distracted and unprepared, Persephone lost her grip on the belt. The leather strap ripped through her hands, and the wolf raced away. Darting into the shadows, Minna vanished.

  “By Mari, Persephone!” Konniger exclaimed, out of breath. “You set a cruel pace.”

  “Konniger?” she said, seeing him among the men coming at them.

  “Surprised to see me?” the chieftain asked, trotting into the clearing surrounded by Devon, Riggles, and several of the Nadak men. Konniger’s long hair, usually tied back, was left to fly free. Persephone had known him for years, but in the dark of the forest he looked like someone else. Konniger held his spear, and on his arm he wore his big wooden shield, the one with the dented copper-boss star reinforcing the center.

  “I thought you said you weren’t going to help.”

  “He’s not,” Hegner said, stepping into the moonlight. He was wrapped in his leigh mor, a spear in his left hand. The group must have run most of the way to catch up to them, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face. All of them were breathing hard. Hegner shifted away from Konniger and the others, holding his spear tightly. “He’s here to kill you.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, Stump, this is a bad time to change sides,” Konniger said, looking at Hegner with a disgusted, pitying shake of his head.

  “What’s going on?” Persephone asked.

  “Konniger has been telling everyone you’re in league with the Fhrey,” Hegner explained between deep inhalations. “He said you ordered the burning of Nadak and Dureya to create a crisis that would justify the election of a keenig and would steal power from him and the other clan chieftains.”