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

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “I’m so scared.” Brin hugged Persephone tightly, pressing her head against Persephone’s side. “Will it hurt terribly, do you think?”

  “No, child,” Padera answered for her. “The Fhrey are not ones for sport.”

  “She’s right,” Persephone assured, although she had no idea if it was true, and she knew Padera didn’t either. “It will be quick, and we’ll all be together again. Your mother and father, Mahn, Reglan—”

  “Melvin and my boys,” Padera added. “Been too long since I seen them.”

  “Maeve?” Brin said hopefully.

  Persephone nodded and brushed the hair from the girl’s eyes.

  “Farmer Wedon, Holliman, the Killians…” Moya listed them as if making sure to invite everyone to the after-party.

  “And Aria.” Persephone glanced at Padera, who managed to find a smile in those lips after all.

  And Raithe, Persephone thought. Would they really all be there?

  The door of the suite opened, and Moya’s bow stretched.

  “Nyphron!” Brin shouted, warning her off.

  The leader of the Galantians entered with a half-dozen men, as well as Vorath, Eres, Grygor, and Tekchin.

  “Brace the door!” Persephone heard Nyphron shout.

  Tegan and Tekchin carried Harkon into the bedroom. The Melen Clan chieftain was bleeding from several wounds, the most obvious being a gash in his skull that ran a stream of red into the man’s eyes. All of them were covered in blood. Even Tekchin.

  “Did you…?” Moya asked him.

  He threw an arm around Moya’s neck, pulled her to him, and gave her a long kiss. “No,” the Fhrey said with a pronounced tone of disappointment that bordered on self-disgust.

  “They certainly helped.” Tegan jumped to the Galantian’s defense as he used his sword to cut into the foot of Persephone’s bed sheet. “Pardon, Madam Keenig.”

  “Take the whole thing if you need it.” Persephone’s heart was pounding. Seeing the blood made the nightmare real.

  “We have bandages on that table,” Padera pointed out. “Needle and thread, too.”

  Tegan looked over.

  “Give me that thing!” Harkon yelled and stole the cloth from Tegan’s hands and began to wipe his face.

  “You can worry about seeing later,” Tegan growled and took the cloth back, pressing it against the wound. “Need to dam this bloody river you have flowing.”

  At the bedroom door, Grygor peeked in.

  “You made it,” Padera said.

  The giant grinned at her.

  “What happened to Tesh?” Brin left Persephone’s side, and took bandages from the table, and handed them to Tegan.

  “Don’t know,” Tegan replied. “He was with us. But when the door was breached, we all ran. I was too busy worrying about myself to pay attention to where everyone went.”

  “The Fhrey saved us,” Harkon said while helping to hold the new wad of cloth to his own head as Tegan and Brin worked to tie a bandage around it. “Threw themselves in the way. Blocked their attacks. Gave us time to—”

  “Here they come!” Eres shouted from the sitting area.

  Tekchin leapt out of the bedroom to join him, and Moya raced to the archway, stationing herself between the two rooms, Grygor to her left.

  Persephone heard a thud, then a bang, and finally the sound of wood splintering as the door to the hallway broke open. Moya let her first arrow fly and had another nocked immediately. Shouts and cries filled the sitting room.

  “Get me up! Get me up!” Harkon ordered. Tegan lifted the chieftain and put his sword back in his hand.

  “Can’t see!” Harkon wavered. “Blood’s in my eyes!”

  “Relax, I’ll tell you when to swing,” Tegan said.

  Looking past her Shield, Persephone saw the Fhrey force their way into the sitting room. Just as Moya had described, they were both beautiful and terrible, wearing brilliant gold and shimmering blue. They killed Tanner Riggles in the blink of an eye. Three other men were cut down as the fane’s army forced its way in. Moya fired arrow after arrow. Many found their targets; gold-and-blue uniforms littered the floor.

  “Get the little spear thrower!” someone shouted in Fhrey.

  That’s when Tekchin rushed them, or tried to.

  Grygor threw the Fhrey aside and stepped in the way. “You have an afterlife to go to. Grenmorians just turn to dust.” Grygor unleashed his massive sword, moving with surprising speed and not-so-surprising strength. The bronze armor prevented the Fhrey from being cut in half, but his strokes must have shattered bones. Whomever he hit didn’t get up.

  For a moment, Persephone thought there might be hope. If the Galantians could hold them, and Moya could shoot—but then the wall to the hallway exploded and Fhrey poured into the sitting room. Grygor took a spear thrust to his shoulder and another to his side. He staggered. Vorath rushed to his aid and was the first to fall as three blades hit him from behind. Persephone didn’t see it, but she heard Eres cry his name.

  Watching through the doorway that separated the bedroom from the sitting area, Persephone saw Grygor beaten back. The giant made a courageous charge into their ranks, disrupting the assault and clearing a swath, but more filled in the gaps. Valiant as he was, the flood was too great.

  Are we all that’s left? Persephone wondered. Is everyone else in the fortress dead?

  Grygor flew backward, and Persephone saw a Fhrey wearing an asica enter the sitting room.

  Miralyith.

  Moya saw him, too, and fired her next shot at his chest. The arrow evaporated in mid-flight.

  The Miralyith fixed her with a terrible glare and thrust out his hands.

  “Moya!” Persephone shouted as, like the giant, the Shield to the Keenig was thrown off her feet.

  * * *

  —

  Tesh was surprised to find Sebek alone. The Fhrey convalescing in the little room one floor down from the top of the Kype had no guard watching his door. While it was Sebek’s responsibility to protect Nyphron, the Galantian leader apparently felt no need to reciprocate. Not that it would matter. None of them would live through the next few hours. Still, he would have expected Nyphron to join his Shield, but maybe that wasn’t the Galantian way.

  Sebek sat up in his bed, naked to the waist, his torso wrapped in white bandages. Lightning and Thunder lay on either side of him—a pair of guard dogs that would give pause to anyone who knew the Fhrey. Even as badly wounded as he was, Sebek was dangerous.

  The fane’s army had found their goal, their prize. They had chased Nyphron up the stairs into the keenig’s room, into the Shrine. No one had thought to open this nondescript door—no one except Tesh. He regretted not being with Brin, but there wasn’t much he could do for her, or anyone. There was no winning that battle. But there was one victory Tesh could still achieve.

  Sebek looked surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t expect enemies to be courteous and only attack when you’re prepared. Sometimes they catch you off guard in awkward places where you can’t retreat,” Tesh told him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember saying that on the bridge when you tried to kill me?” Tesh closed the door while Sebek intently watched.

  “I did pretty good, didn’t I?”

  Tesh slid the deadbolt. “I held my own there for a while. I think I surprised you.” Tesh offered a grin, then shrugged. “I’m still not as good as you. My wrists aren’t as strong, and your speed is superior. You would have beaten me, killed me, if Brin hadn’t interfered. But overall, I did surprise you, didn’t I? A Rhune like me—just a kid—going toe-to-toe with Sebek.” Tesh nodded. “I’ve learned a lot. Not enough to beat you—not enough to seriously challenge any of the Galantians, let alone the best of them—but eventually…well, now we�
��ll never know.”

  Sebek didn’t move, didn’t speak, but he watched Tesh’s every movement.

  “You know, when I first met Raithe, he taught me that the best way to learn how to kill someone is to discover everything you can about how they fight. ‘Determine their strengths and weaknesses. Uncover their secrets, and never let them see yours.’ That’s what he told me. Every night since then I’ve gone to sleep with those words running through my head. He was right, but I thought I’d have more time, you know?”

  “You saw us,” Sebek said, his hands clasping the handles of his swords.

  “When you and the rest of the Galantians came to my village?” Tesh nodded. “My mother was a wise and intelligent woman. At the first hint of your coming, she sent me into the cellar. We were poor—everyone was—and our storeroom was little more than a hole in the ground bordered by bricks. Didn’t even have the wood for a door. My father went out, buying my mother time. She put me in, covered the hole with a rug, and moved the bed over all of it. Then she left to join my dad. From the outside, the cellar was invisible. I removed a brick, and through the tiny gap I watched you kill my father. While she cried over his dead body, you cut my mother’s head off.” Tesh pointed at the left sword. “With Thunder, I believe. She was a woman, not worthy of Lightning, isn’t that right? And, yet, in a way, she’d bested you. You never found what she had hidden.”

  Sebek struggled to pull himself more upright and winced at the effort.

  “You Galantians are such heroes. I could tell that just watching you, the way you slaughtered everyone. All the unarmed men, the women as they clutched their babies, and the children—yes, nothing screams hero quite like butchering an innocent child. I used to think you burned everything just to be thorough, or because your fane ordered it, but he doesn’t even know, does he? He never ordered that attack, never ordered any assault. The war with the Fhrey didn’t exist until you started it. You murdered everyone in Dureya and Nadak to terrify the rest of the clans. You wanted us to think the fane was our enemy, that we had no choice but to fight back. This war was Nyphron’s idea, isn’t that right?”

  Sebek didn’t reply, but his eyes were wide. Tesh took that as a sign of confirmation.

  “Nyphron wants to be fane, but you can’t break the law of your god and still rule in his name, can you? Ferrol forbids Fhrey from killing Fhrey. So, Nyphron needed a Rhune army to do what he couldn’t.”

  Sebek finally spoke. “You’re here to kill me.”

  Tesh was pleased. He wanted to be sure Sebek understood everything. Tesh had waited a long time; he felt he deserved at least that much. “I’d kill you all, if I had the time.”

  “So why save Nyphron from the raow?”

  Tesh smiled as he slowly drew his swords. “I wanted to be the one to kill each of you.” He sighed. “But Nyphron is probably already dead, so I saved him for nothing. But of the two, I’d rather it be you. Nyphron only gave the order; you were the one who killed my family. Every day for nearly a year, I choked back vomit as I pretended to be your devoted student, waiting until I had the skills.”

  “You think that because I’m wounded you can take me?”

  “Yes.”

  Sebek gritted his teeth, grabbed his swords, and swung his feet to the floor.

  Tesh let him.

  Tesh feinted with his left. Sebek met him. In that clash, everything was made clear. Sebek’s block was weak, without follow-through.

  I’m doing him a favor. He wants me to kill him.

  No better death for a warrior than in battle. But Tesh wasn’t there to merely kill Sebek. He wanted to hurt the Fhrey, let him know what loss felt like. Roan’s iron blade proved to be able to deliver on its promise. He struck Lightning with all his might and was rewarded when the bronze sword was severed at the hilt.

  That is for my father.

  He could have killed Sebek then, but Tesh wouldn’t grant the Fhrey any favors. His next blows weren’t aimed at flesh but at Thunder. Acting as giant scissors, Tesh’s sword caught Sebek’s remaining blade between two strong swings, and it, too, snapped.

  That is for my mother.

  Sebek staggered backward. He wasn’t looking at Tesh. His eyes were focused on the broken hilts, as if his hands had been cut off. Tesh paused to let the full weight of the pain sink in. Tears slipped down Sebek’s cheeks.

  “Now you know,” Tesh said. “Now you understand.”

  He let Sebek cry. The Fhrey dropped to his knees, and he wept over the broken blades. Tesh gave him a full minute before severing his head from his neck.

  * * *

  —

  To Persephone’s surprise and relief, neither Moya nor Grygor were dead. Both got back to their feet, merely knocked down by a strong wind. Shock gave way to puzzlement.

  Why are they still alive?

  The answer was written all over Moya. After the first battle, she had painted runes on everything she had. But Grygor didn’t have any markings, and he didn’t wear armor. The Miralyith should have killed the giant at least. But since they couldn’t always tell who wore the Orinfar and who didn’t, he likely always attacked with air.

  Grygor was up again. Recognizing the greatest threat and forsaking all others, he launched himself at the bald figure.

  The Miralyith either noticed Grygor didn’t have armor, or the fear of a rampaging giant had caused the Fhrey to act out of reflex. In any case, his defense wasn’t another blast of air.

  A brilliant white light struck the giant.

  “Grygor!” Padera yelled. Her voice was louder than Persephone thought possible.

  The giant died in an instant.

  The Miralyith died a half-second later as Moya, having risen to a knee, held Audrey sideways and launched two arrows before Grygor hit the floor. The first entered the Miralyith’s throat; the second got him in the eye.

  “In the name of Fane Lothian”—Persephone heard the shout from the other room—“face your punishment, Nyphron, son of Zephyron!”

  Nyphron pushed Bergin through the threshold, and then he and Tekchin pulled a bleeding Eres into Persephone’s bedchamber. This would be their final stand.

  Moya leapt up on the bed and resumed firing arrows, but Persephone noticed she was down to only the ones in her hands. Tegan, Bergin, and a blood-covered Harkon took positions around the bed where Brin and Persephone clutched swords and Padera prayed to Mari, rubbing a small polished-stone carving of their god.

  Eres got back to his feet and made great use of his spear’s long reach. For a time, he forced the fane’s invaders to stay back where they were easy targets for Moya’s bow. She slew four but had only three arrows left.

  Maybe because they finally realized the Galantians weren’t willing to kill fellow Fhrey, six invaders rushed forward, forcing their way into the bedroom. Harkon threw himself forward, swinging. A bronze sword entered his chest, and he fell. Bergin killed a Fhrey that Tekchin had distracted with a slash across the face. Moya killed another. Then Bergin went down; Persephone didn’t even see the blow that killed him.

  Nyphron, Tekchin, Eres, and Tegan were all that remained between the fane’s Fhrey and the bed, and the other Fhrey seemed to know that the Galantians were harmless.

  A spear slammed into the headboard five inches from Persephone’s head, and she screamed. Together, Padera and Brin jerked the spear free, and the old woman took it, aiming the point in defense of the bed.

  Four more Fhrey pushed into the room, and Tekchin took a blade thrust to his chest. The stroke landed under his breastplate, and he cried out. Moya’s howl was even louder.

  “No!” She straddled Persephone and fired her last two arrows one after another into the chests of the newcomers. Each fell, but they were instantly replaced.

  Brin pulled Moya down to the mattress as another spear flew. Just missing her, the weapon sparked off the stone
work.

  “A curse on you, Lothian,” Nyphron shouted. “A curse on you and your entire Tetlin house!”

  Brin raised her dagger as more Fhrey rushed into the bedroom. Persephone gritted her teeth against the pain and raised her blade. She muttered a prayer to Mari.

  That’s when the roof came off the Kype.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Light on Shining Armor

  The way Roan described it—the rising sun, the bridge, the beating of her heart—I wish I could have seen it. I wish everyone could have. It was what fairy tales are made of.

  —THE BOOK OF BRIN

  Roan had watched the entire thing through a wash of tears. She didn’t mean to, not the whole thing. She had planned to close her eyes before Suri killed him. Didn’t seem right to watch that part, but it had happened so fast.

  Suri had asked Raithe to lie down. She picked up the sword and Roan expected she would cut off his head, or raise it up and stab him in the chest, maybe cut his throat. Instead, she had laid the sword on his chest. Then she stroked his forehead, whispered something, leaned over, and kissed him on the brow.

  That was it. Raithe was dead.

  Roan hadn’t realized it at first. The only hint was that Suri cried out as if someone had stabbed her. She began to sob, to wail, her body racked with grief, tears spilling down her face. Somehow in her horrific sorrow, Suri managed to sing. Not a nice song, not a song at all really. Nothing rhymed, and the melody was unpleasant. Then the rear wall of the smithy shattered, part of the roof caved in, and the beast appeared. The workshop was simply too small for the Gilarabrywn that was born of that sorrow. The Verenthenon wouldn’t have been big enough. Just as Arion had tapped from all of them when they had been in the Agave, Suri had drawn on their combined grief, and what was born from it was impossible to fully comprehend.

  The next moment, the Gilarabrywn flew into the night sky. Scale-covered body, massive claws, horned back, barbed tail, and an overabundance of teeth were hoisted by a pair of featherless wings. Bigger, Roan thought, wiping tears away. Much bigger than last time. The Gilarabrywn gained height, took one circle over the Rhist, then dove on the Kype, claws extended the way Roan had seen birds do on the big lake or the White Oak River. They usually came up with a fish in their talons. The Gilarabrywn came up with the roof.