Age of War: Book Three of The Legends of the First Empire

by Michael J. Sullivan

  * * *

  —

  Tesh thought Brin was the best-looking girl in Alon Rhist. An argument could be made that this wasn’t such a big deal since there were little more than fifty Rhune females within a day’s walk, and most of them were old or married. Still, some were worth looking at, like the archery instructor, but he didn’t dare look at her. She scared him even more than Sebek.

  Besides Brin, the only other girl his age was Nixie, who lived with her mother down by the goat pens. She was all right. He’d tried to speak to her once, but her mother was quick to shoo him away. “You shouldn’t talk to that Dureyan boy,” he heard her say. The mother’s tone made Dureyan sound like a disease. Brin was better looking than Nixie, nicer, and she didn’t have a mother. She didn’t have a father, either. This was something they shared, and Tesh imagined it connected them in some way, or perhaps it was a sign from the gods—a big eternal hand pointing at her and whispering this one! Tesh had noticed Brin when he had lived under the wool with Malcolm and Raithe in Tirre. There had been more girls there, pretty ones, too, but Tirre ladies were a different breed, wearing sandals and dresses of dyed linen.

  Brin wasn’t a Dureyan girl—she was softer than that—but she wasn’t a Tirre lady, either. Long brown hair, face as cute as a morning chipmunk, with high cheeks and smiling eyes. Since the weather had warmed, he’d seen her in the training yard, always with that satchel. Everyone else noticed her, too. Even the old men watched for Brin, and when she sat out on the grass, the trainees nudged each other and pointed—first at her and then at him. This warning gesture spread until all the other students moved away, fearful of being paired with Tesh. When Brin was there, he had a tendency to show off.

  Tesh wasn’t intimidated by many things, but pretending to look for Roan that day had been the most frightening thing he’d done since reaching Alon Rhist. It hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped. All that talk about raow, footprints, and voices in the night didn’t set the right tone. At first, he thought she might have been messing with him, but when he found the clawed footprint around the corner, he had to take that seriously. Since then, he’d made a habit of going for nightly walks down by her house. He’d circle it, then sit in the shadows by the well, waiting to see if anything was lurking around. Nothing ever was, and when he got too cold, he’d head back to the barracks. Tesh wasn’t sure what he was looking for, didn’t know what a raow looked like, but if anything tried to hurt Brin, he’d take his training out for a test run.

  Since their first meeting, he’d spoken to her after every practice. The last four times she’d allowed him to hold her hand. This time he hoped to kiss her. The thought had his heart racing. As usual, she was making black marks on incredibly thin sheets of skin with a featherless quill. Usually, she stopped well before he reached her, but this time her brows were furrowed and her tongue stuck partway out of her mouth. According to Moya and some of the others, Tesh did the same thing when aiming a bow. Another connection. This had to be destiny…Didn’t it?

  “Hi again,” he said when she failed to look up. None of his training had included classes in eloquence. He had learned how to curse in three languages, but somehow he didn’t think calling her a whore in Grenmorian or Fhrey would impress Brin.

  She looked up, and rapidly sucked in her tongue, making a little slurping sound. She opened her mouth after that, but didn’t say anything. She just stared.

  She’s finally fed up, tired of me bothering her, probably wants me to leave. You shouldn’t talk to that Dureyan boy!

  Every muscle in his body contracted, and he started to sweat. He needed to say something. For the first time in a half-dozen visits, he asked, “What are you doing?”

  She continued to stare for a few more seconds, then looked down at her lap as if she’d forgotten. “Oh—I, ah…I was writing.”

  “Writing?”

  “Yeah, I’m the Keeper of Ways for the Rhulyn clans, and I—”

  “You are?” he blurted out, hating himself. He was shocked because he thought Keepers were old, like that Padera hag. The one in Dureya had been. He just couldn’t imagine a girl as young as Brin being a Keeper. Still, he should have known she wasn’t just some girl. She was an orphan, but she was in Alon Rhist. All the other women in the Rhist were married to, or daughters of, serving soldiers. The rest stayed home in their villages to tend animals and babies. If she was at the Rhist, she had to be special.

  Brin nodded. “I thought you knew.”

  Tesh shook his head. “I don’t know much, but I guess being Keeper you know everything.”

  “I think you’re confusing Keepers with gods. I only know the history of the clans.”

  “Still, that’s not easy, right?” He was trying to compliment her—sort of like doing a backward parry with his off hand in a first match. He hoped this went better.

  “I had to memorize the ancient stories word for word from the last Keeper, Maeve.”

  “How long did that take?”

  “Years. I started listening when I was real young. Made my first recital of the Song of Estuary when I was five. That’s when Maeve really started training me, but there were still a few things I never completely learned. That’s what this is all about.” She laid a hand on the stack of markings. “I’m working at making a permanent account of those stories, so anyone can know them.”

  Tesh knelt down on one knee and leaned in to look at all the wavy marks she’d made. “Is it magic?” He knew that the keenig had magicians working for her. He also knew all of them were women.

  “No, these marks just represent sounds, the same ones we speak when talking. If you know which marks make what sounds, you can read them.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding confidently but not understanding. He didn’t need to. He didn’t care. All Tesh wanted was for her not to shout at him to go away. Every word he uttered was a gamble, and an opportunity. “So, what is it you’re writing?”

  “I used to call it The Book Pine Markings of Brin, but that’s too long. Moya shortened it to The Book of Brin, and I guess that’s okay. Makes less sense, but is a lot easier to say. It’s going to be the story of the whole world—from how it began to the present.”

  “Since you’re from Rhen, I suppose you’ll say Mari created everything.”

  “Actually, no. Erebus did.”

  Tesh wasn’t an expert on gods. In Dureya, they worshiped the Mynogan, the three gods of war, and he knew that Clan Nadak worshiped Bakrakar, the stag god of the hunt, and Rhen worshiped Mari. Each of the clans had its own god, but he had never heard of Erebus.

  “Erebus is the father of all the gods. And he had four children, Ferrol, Drome, Mari, and Muriel.”

  “I knew Mari would get in there,” Tesh said with a smile. He wasn’t really interested in the gods and was ready to move to another topic, like whether she’d consider taking a walk with him. Talking to her in the open with everyone watching was horribly awkward. Humiliation hurt less in private.

  “The Dherg like to call themselves Belgriclungreians, but they were originally called Dromeians.”

  Tesh smiled and nodded. “I was wondering if—”

  “Do you see it? Do you understand?”

  Tesh hadn’t been paying close attention and felt he’d been caught. He made a guilty grin that he hoped might be seen as charming. Knowing he was asking for too much, he added a shake of his head.

  “Ferrol sounds like Fhrey, and Drome sounds like Dromeian—even Dherg and dwarf—they are all variations of the same word. Although Dherg comes from the Fhrey for vile mole and dwarf is a Rhunic word to indicate something small and they shouldn’t have anything to do with each other, but I think they might. That somehow all those words come from the same root. That would mean the Fhrey, Belgriclungreian, and our own language share a common ancestry. I have no idea how that could be possible. And then there’s Mari…” She looked at hi
m expectantly, inviting a response by making a hand-it-over motion with her fingers.

  Tesh was at a loss. I never should have asked what she was doing. Now she thinks I’m—

  Brin smiled at him.

  I’m okay. It’s like the first part of a joke; she doesn’t expect me to know the answer.

  “The masculine form of the word Mari is Mani—do you see now?” Thankfully she didn’t even pause to give him time to answer. “Mani sounds a lot like man, doesn’t it?”

  She was excited—really excited. He could see it in her eyes, bright and wide. This was important to her, and she wanted him to respond with equal enthusiasm, but all he wanted was a kiss.

  “Okay, so maybe it isn’t so obvious to everyone,” she went on when he failed to say anything. “Even Roan didn’t make the connection, but think about it. Those words aren’t similar by accident. Ferrol is the god of the Fhrey. Drome is the god of the Dromeians, and Mari is the god of Man. It says so right in the tablets I found in Neith. Those born of Ferrol, those born of Drome, and those born of Mari moved out into the world. You see, we are Mari born, the children of Mari, daughter of Erebus. Only…” She looked away, perplexed.

  “Only what?”

  “None of it makes sense. I mean, okay, so this Erebus had four kids, but with who? Elan? We call her the Grand Mother of All, so what does that mean? For that matter, who was Mari’s husband? Or Ferrol’s wife, or Drome’s…I don’t even know what Drome is—the Belgriclungreians called the peak above Neith Dome Mountain. Could that be a derivation? And what about Muriel? Did she have children? Maybe she made the plants and animals. I don’t know, but someone had to, right? And where’d Erebus come from in the first place? Did he have parents? Wouldn’t he have to? And where’d they come from?” She sighed. “I thought I had it all worked out, most of it written down: father of the gods, three kids that made humans, Fhrey, and the Dherg, but no. That’s what you get from talking to Roan about anything. She keeps asking why until you want to punch her in the face.”

  Tesh just stared.

  “You wanna go for a walk?” Brin asked.

  “Huh?” He blinked. “Oh—ah, sure.”

  “Great,” she said. Brin wrapped her pages up in the satchel and capped the ink bottle.

  “Where we going?” he asked. For all his desire to go someplace quiet, Tesh hadn’t put any thought into where.

  “I’d love to go for a walk in a forest, but there aren’t any. Have you been in the Verenthenon?”

  “Not much.”

  Brin smiled. “I’ll give you a tour.”

  Tesh grinned. “I’d like that.” He took her hand and they set off.

  * * *

  —

  The Verenthenon was beautiful, and Brin hoped he would be impressed. While not forbidden, the rotunda was reserved for official business, which left it empty much of the time. Brin had been there often as she attended every meeting conducted beneath the dome. She also found it a good place to write when the weather was bad.

  “Here, I want to show you something.” She pulled him up a flight of stairs to the platform where Persephone and Nyphron made their speeches. The sunlight shone through the skylights, but it was late in the day and the dais wasn’t illuminated. She led him to its center and then whispered in his ear. “Say something.”

  Her heart beat quickly with the intimacy of being so close, her lips so near to him.

  “Something,” he said, and his eyes went wide in amazement at the tremendous volume produced. “How did you do that?” he exclaimed. Spoken louder, these words echoed. He turned, searching for the speaker who was mimicking him. Then the truth dawned, and he smiled.

  Brin smiled, too.

  She led him off the stage, and they circled around and went out to the tiered benches. “This is where all the important people sit when Nyphron and Persephone are addressing them.”

  She took Tesh’s hand again and led him across the tile to a door in the back.

  “I discovered a world of hallways and doors beneath this place. I tried nearly every one. Most are open but some are fastened shut. Behind a few, I’ve heard noises. Maybe they keep some livestock down here: goats or pigs. Haven’t seen any, but it’s kinda interesting. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  * * *

  —

  They dipped their heads under an arch, descended a set of stone steps, and entered a carved-out passageway. The upper portion of the corridor was made of blocked stone, the lower section hewn from natural rock. They were entering the body of the butte, and Tesh had to admit it was a little creepy, like going into a cave. Still, he didn’t care. He was alone with her and that was all he wanted.

  “Did you get your armor?” Brin asked as she grabbed a torch and led him down the steps.

  “No.”

  “You couldn’t find Roan?”

  “Oh, I found her. It’s just—they want me to wait. I’m not sure why.”

  He knew exactly why. They said he would grow out of it in just a few months. He was the only one who could go toe-to-toe with Sebek. They’d sparred twelve times, but he was too young for armor. He wasn’t going to tell her that.

  “You came down here by yourself? Isn’t this a little scary?”

  Brin shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. I went with Persephone to Neith, and let me tell you, dwarfs know how to dig deep. This is nothing.”

  “Oh, right,” Tesh said. “You fought a raow, didn’t you? I suppose this is a walk in a dewy field next to that.”

  She waved the torch at a clot of cobwebs, burning them away. “It’s a little scary, but not with you—not with Techylor who’s fought Sebek twelve times and only received one scratch.”

  She has been watching!

  “Speaking of scary,” he said, “have you had any more visits from the raow?”

  “No, just that one night.”

  She stopped at the bottom of a narrow corridor. Across from them, an open door revealed a small chamber with dry straw on a dirt floor. Brin stared at it as if trying to make up her mind about something.

  Tesh had an idea what it was—at least he hoped he did. There were few places in the city where two people could be alone.

  Tesh moved past her into the room. “It’s all right. Nothing to worry about in here, see?”

  She stood in the hallway, watching him with big eyes, biting her lower lip.

  Tesh put his hand to the wall. “Stone is dry.” He sniffed. “No mildew or mold. Not a bad little place. Nicer than my home in Dureya actually.”

  Brin placed the torch in a sconce outside and entered, taking unusually short steps.

  As she moved toward him, Tesh found he had to take two breaths to gain the same amount of air. He placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. As he did, he noticed Brin was having the same issue with the air, her chest rising and falling. Tesh leaned in, pressing against her. She was trembling; he was, too. Their lips, less than a finger’s width apart, drew in a common breath.

  His arms slipped around her. She answered by closing her eyes. Then as his lips touched hers, Brin arched up, meeting him.

  Tesh had never kissed a girl before. The moment he felt the press of her lips, he stopped thinking.

  Nearly every combat instructor had stressed the need to be in the moment, to not be pondering the future or past. Such a thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed. So much of everything was held in the vessel of what came before and the anticipation of what came next. Blocking out those thoughts was as hard as forgetting he existed. Tesh was certain he’d never achieved that singular state of perfection, never even knew what he was aiming for, until that kiss. In one flawless moment, Tesh forgot the rest of the world. He might have stood pressed against Brin for hours, or days, lost in the smell of her skin, the feel of her hair. His only thought: I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

 
Legs weak, they slid down the wall to the dirt and straw. Some part of him wondered how he was still getting air, but it was a thought with no more substance than the cobwebs.

  Then everything changed.

  Brin stopped kissing. Her whole body went rigid, and he felt her muscles tighten as she pushed him away.

  What’s wrong? What did I do? Does she think I was pulling her to the floor? Did she think I was going to—

  “I didn’t—” he started to apologize, but stopped when he saw the terror on her face. It wasn’t him she was upset with. She was horrified but acted as if he wasn’t there.

  She retreated to the door, pulled the torch free of the sconce, and brought it down toward the floor.

  “Look,” she said. Their movement in the cell had brushed aside a patch of straw. The flickering glow revealed a familiar three-toed footprint—one with claws.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Witness

  Alon Rhist had been the fourth fane, the first from the Instarya tribe, and the first male ruler of Erivan. He took power in the midst of the Dherg War after Fane Ghika of the Asendwayr had been killed in the initial battle. For five dark years, he had fought a losing war against the Dherg. After his death, Rhist became the only fane to be buried west of the Nidwalden River. The fortress that bore his name was also his tombstone.

  —THE BOOK OF BRIN

  As Suri walked, her feet gave rise to a cloud of dust. It was unlike the sickly yellow soil of Dureya, easily disturbed and slow to settle. There, the pallid grit collected on her asica, muting its color, dulling everything. Here the dirt was light, but the air was heavy. Spring breezes failed to lift the sense of suffocation. It couldn’t. The stifling misery Suri felt wasn’t caused by weather.

  Months of working with Arion had opened countless doors that Suri had previously ignored. Hand in hand they had explored those new corridors, and with each discovery, Suri’s understanding of the Art increased. With understanding came awareness. The more she learned, the more she realized how little she knew. In the past, she had overlooked so many things that had screamed for her attention. She hadn’t been blind to them, just never noticed. People always did that. So devoured by their own problems, they never noticed the wildflowers in their path. That spring, she saw the world in a new way. She had learned to not merely look but to see. Not everything she saw was pleasant.