Age of Myth (16 page)

“Outbursts like that are why we ordered your marriage,” said the woman with the circlet, whom Raithe concluded was the Second Chair, Konniger's wife. “You're a wild animal, Moya. Hegner will beat some respect into you.”

Moya thrashed but was held back.

“Go on, Hegner,” Konniger said.

“Yeah, well, like I was saying, they were kissing, but we still wanted to check things out. She certainly looked willing, had her arms around him and stuff, but you never know. He might have been forcing himself on her. We climbed the cascade, and when Persephone saw us, she told them we couldn't be allowed back to the dahl. She said it would
ruin everything
if people found out. That's when these two attacked. The big one has a sword, two in fact. And we didn't stand a chance. He killed Sackett and Adler. Woulda killed me, too, if I hadn't run.”

“Why are you saying these things?” Persephone asked Hegner. She didn't seem angry. If anything she sounded hurt, but most of all her tone and the shake of her head expressed bewilderment. “You know none of that is true.”

The crowd had expanded out beyond the well and the stone god. Most of Clan Rhen filled the broad pathway leading from the lodge steps to the front gate, where they stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the crushed gravel. A few kids were out near the closest roundhouses, standing up on roughly cut benches near fire pits to try to see over the heads of their parents. The crowd murmured as people talked among themselves.

Konniger raised his hands to quiet them. “It's your turn, Persephone. What motive do you put forth, for I can see no reason why three of our most distinguished men would attack you without provocation.”

Persephone shook her head. “I don't know. I've been trying to figure that out since it happened. But these three were with me, and they can testify as witnesses on my behalf.”

It was Konniger's turn to shake his head. “It's reasonable to assume they'll take your side. We would need someone impartial. Was there anyone else?”

Persephone clenched her fists. “No. But can't the same be said of Hegner? Who are his impartial witnesses?”

The chieftain stroked his beard. “You make a good point. But two men are dead; that fact isn't in dispute. I find it difficult to accept that two experienced hunters would merely fall to their deaths.” He focused on Raithe. “And Dureyans are well known for their murderous ways.”

Raithe shoved the two people in front of him aside and climbed the steps to stand before Hegner. “He called me a murderer.” The words rolled out in a growl. “In Dureya, an accuser will defend their claims in battle. I imagine this custom holds true in all dahls.” He glanced at Konniger. “I demand that he take it back,
and
his lies against this woman, or we'll let the gods decide the truth. We can settle this matter right now.” He let his hand rest on the handle of the sword.

“You challenge a one-handed man?” the wife said. “How like a Dureyan.”

“What does that matter?” He pointed at Hegner. “If he tells the truth, the gods will award him victory even if he had no hands and just his vile mouth. Or don't you believe in the gods?” With a disdainful shake of his head, he added, “So like a southerner.”

“You are violent, disrespectful, and no doubt a liar,” the wife declared, shaking her head. “Don't you see how you're proving Hegner's point? You don't think we can see what is
really
going on?” She lifted her voice to the crowd. “What more proof is needed? The killer who helped Persephone is a Dureyan!”

“The gods will tell the truth of it,” Raithe barked, and moved toward Hegner.

Konniger stepped between Raithe and the one-handed man. The angry murmur of the crowd rose.

Raithe had hoped to get a meal, a decent night's sleep, and maybe some food for the road. Instead, he found himself accused of murder and facing off with a dahl chieftain on the steps of their lodge in front of a herd of pampered villagers. Perhaps Shegon wasn't a god, but he sure must have been favored by them. Since he had killed the Fhrey, Raithe's life had been cursed. His only consolation was that it couldn't get any worse.

Then the horn sounded. It blew once, twice, then three times.

Everyone's attention turned toward the far end of the broad pathway, as men scrambled to seal the gate with a thick wooden beam.

From the wall came the shout, “The gods are here!”

Persephone watched as fear ripped through those gathered. All eyes turned to their chieftain, but Konniger didn't inspire confidence. He stared at the gate and swallowed hard.

“Turning at the crossroad!” Cobb shouted from his perch on the wall beside the gate. “Definitely coming this way.”

“What do we do?” Bergin the Brewer asked. He twisted the dirty towel in his hands.

Even Tressa looked to her husband expectantly, but Konniger didn't move, didn't speak.

“How many are there?” Persephone shouted across the dahl.

“Nine,” Cobb yelled back. “Well, there's seven gods and two…other things.”

“What do we do?” Tressa whispered to her husband.

The chieftain ran a hand over his mouth. He looked left and then right, breathing heavily.

“Konniger, you need to go out there,” Persephone said. “Meet them on the road before they reach the dahl. Talk to them. I'll come with you to translate.”

Konniger looked at her then. She expected anger, a seething glare; maybe he would hit her now. Persephone would have preferred a slap to what he gave, a terrified bewildered expression.

He thinks we're already dead.

“I'll do no such thing.” Konniger shook his head. “That would be suicide. Our walls are thick and our gate strong. We'll be safe here.”

Persephone searched the crowd and found Malcolm. She came down from the steps and grabbed him by the arm. “Will the walls hold them?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Your walls are made of wood. Even stone would only slow them down.”

Persephone looked out at the faces. Mothers took the hands of children, their heads turning back and forth between the gate and Konniger. Husbands held their wives close, and tears formed in the eyes of many as hope faded. They all began to understand that their chieftain wouldn't save them.

There are things beyond the control of men, and the will of the gods is one of them.

“They're at the grazing line,” Cobb shouted, his voice starting to shake.

Persephone turned away from Malcolm and focused on Raithe. He stood on the steps, one hand still on his sword. He was big, his shoulders broad, his face stern.

God Killer.

“Everyone!” she shouted, climbing back up the steps. “Listen to me. This is Raithe of Dureya. The God Killer!” She looked at him, trying to determine their chances in his expression. He was definitely angry, maybe even furious, but she saw no fear.

“Cobb says there's nine of them. How many did you fight last time?” Persephone asked Raithe.

He didn't answer.

“Thirteen,” Brin said. “According to the stories, he faced Shegon and twelve of his men. After he defeated the leader, all the others fled.”

“Fewer this time. Can you do it again?” Persephone asked.

Raithe exchanged a hard look with Malcolm. “There's a big difference between that story and what really happened.”

“Perhaps, but if they plan on repeating what happened at Dureya, then you'll die with us,” she said.

“You're sure the gate won't hold them?” Raithe asked Malcolm.

“No more than a garden fence.”

“So there really isn't a choice, is there?” Raithe sighed in resignation. “Tell them to open the gate.”

“No!” Konniger came to life. “You can't let them in!”

“Didn't you listen?” Gifford said, hopping forward and leaning on the crutch Roan had made. “They'll smash the gate.” He looked at Malcolm with his squinted eye. “Maybe being gods they might just tell it to walk away and up it will go.”

“We have the God Killer,” Brin said. A smile bloomed across her face. Hers was the only one. “They'll probably run when they find out he's here.”

“Brin, for the love of Mari, be quiet,” Sarah pleaded with her daughter.

Raithe started down the steps. The crowd parted to grant him a path.

“Open the gate!” Persephone shouted, and then returned to Malcolm's side. “He can do this, right?”

“I guess we'll see.”

“They're gods!” Konniger shouted. “Men can't fight gods!”

Along with everyone else, Persephone watched the God Killer walk alone down the pathway. “You better hope you're wrong.”

Raithe kept his eyes focused on the gate.

The worst that can happen is you'll die.
A favorite saying of his father's. He'd heard it countless times. During the Long Winter, when his mother became creative with their meals, even she had used it.
Try it. The worst that can happen is you'll die.
For a Dureyan living on a plain of burning rock and freezing snow, death wasn't feared.
Might even be a step up,
his father also used to say. Everyone died anyway, and in Dureya most died young.

Raithe didn't fear death, but he had hoped to marry someday and become a better parent than his father. He wouldn't spend his life off fighting, leaving his family to fend for themselves.

Coming so close to Dahl Rhen had been stupid. He could have veered around it and been miles away if only he'd stayed in the forest's eaves and pushed south as planned. Staying with Malcolm had been an even bigger lapse of judgment. He could have, should have, abandoned him at the roadhouse. Traveling would have been faster with a child in tow. But getting involved with Persephone was his worst mistake of all.

How did her problems become mine?

Raithe's father wouldn't have been trapped so easily. He knew better than to let emotions cloud judgment. Raithe hadn't learned that lesson, despite hearing it so often. After trying for years to avoid following Herkimer's footsteps, it was ironic Raithe would die in the same foolish way. He'd be just one more stupid Dureyan slain by a Fhrey. There would be a difference, though—he would be the last.

Despite Konniger's order, the men at the gate lifted the rough-hewn log free of the hooks and tossed it aside when Raithe approached. They didn't push it open. Once their responsibility was done, the pair bolted like rabbits.

Raithe looked back. Persephone stood next to Malcolm, clutching his arm and whispering into his ear. The shakes of the ex-slave's head and the look on his face verified what Raithe already knew—he didn't stand a chance.

With a sigh, he pushed the heavy gate open and left the dahl. Outside, the Fhrey party approached in two lines, walking side by side. Raithe expected exact duplicates of Shegon, but these Fhrey were different.

He didn't care for the changes.

They wore yellow armor that shone like gold in the afternoon sun. Many had Shegon's blond hair and draped blue capes of the same shimmering cloth over their shoulders, but these Fhrey had sunbaked skin and bodies of lean muscle. Two weren't Fhrey at all, nor were they human.

One was easily the largest being Raithe had ever seen. Twelve feet tall or more, he had a bald head and flat brutish features. The giant wore only a skirt of leather and straps of hide, and he carried a mammoth sword. The other one walked on two legs but looked more like an animal than either a man or Fhrey. Its sickly-yellow eyes seemed too large for its head, and it loped along on short legs. With its hunched back and incredibly long arms, its claws dragged along the ground. The thing's skin was dark and leathery, and the ears were pointed, though much longer and sharper than those of any Fhrey. Worst of all was its mouth, which was filled with so many rows of needle-sharp teeth that it couldn't contain them all. They stuck out at odd angles, and Raithe wondered how the creature could eat without tearing its lips to pieces.

“What a helpful fellow you are. Opening the door for us like that,” the nearest Frey said with a smile. His blond hair was cropped shorter than Shegon's, his pointed ears standing out. Unlike Shegon, this Fhrey's shoulders were broad and his build muscular. Aggressive sky-blue eyes noted Raithe's every movement.

“Sorry, but you can't come in,” Raithe said, standing in the center of the path and realizing just how stupid that sounded, even to himself.

The short-haired Fhrey's smile became a grin. “And why is that?”

Raithe didn't like the grin. The Fhrey had a gleeful, eager expression; he was hoping for trouble.

“Because I said so.” Raithe let his hand settle on Shegon's sword.

The Fhrey's eyes followed the movement and narrowed with interest.

The rest of the party advanced and came to a stop behind the first, where they fanned out to get a better view.

“What do we have here?” another Fhrey said. Except for the giant, he was the tallest of the group. His hair reached his shoulders, but like all the Fhrey, he had no beard. “A welcoming committee of one?”

“On the contrary,” the first replied, “he says we can't come in.”

“Can't? How rude. I mean, even for a Rhune that's ill mannered.”

“And he has Shegon's sword.”

This revelation caught all of their attentions. Looks of surprise ran across their faces, followed by expressions of delight.

“So this is the famous
God Killer
we've heard so much about,” the tall one said. Like all Fhrey, he had beautiful, delicate features: flawless skin, straight teeth, and those brilliant blue eyes.

The entire group was relaxed, weight back on their heels, shoulders loose, not a hand on a weapon. Raithe wasn't sure if he was pleased or worried about that. Maybe they weren't there to fight. Or maybe, like Shegon, they knew he wasn't a threat.