Age of Myth (35 page)

“We don't have time.” Minna gave a stout tug and began dragging Persephone back outside. “We—look, we aren't going to kill the bear; we're just stopping Suri and Maeve from getting near it. Maeve's an old woman. We should be able to catch them if we start now.”

“Okay, fine,” Raithe said.

“Thank you.” Persephone let Minna pull her back out and toward the dahl's front gate.

“Malcolm!” Raithe shouted, grabbing his spear and the Dherg shield. “Run to the lodge and get another spear off the wall.” He picked up a sheep's bladder fashioned into a waterskin and threw it toward the ex-slave. “And here, fill that at the well, then catch up to us.” He looked at Roan. “It's okay if we borrow it, right?”

She nodded.

“I'm going?” Malcolm asked nervously.

“Yep.”

“But I don't know anything about hunting bears.”

“We aren't hunting a bear,” Raithe said. “You just heard her.”

“Then why am I terrified?”

“Because it will be dark by the time we get out there, because I'm going, and because the gods are infatuated with me this month.”

“Tell me again why
I'm
going.”

Raithe ran toward the gate. “It's your reward for hitting people with rocks.”

What length will a mother go to on behalf of her child? How long is time? What is the depth of love?

—
T
HE
B
OOK OF
B
RIN

Tall and narrow, the cave entrance was a jagged crack on the face of the mountain. Leafy plants grew on the ledges, but no trees dared approach. The dark void gaped with all the invitation of an open mouth spreading lichen-tarnished lips that dripped damp. Suri had explored many caves. Most were down by the Bern River, cut by the water along the cliffs. None were deep, and few were occupied by anything larger than swifts or foxes. Suri liked to think that she'd delved into every crevice in the Crescent Forest, but she hadn't been in this one. Tura had forbidden it.

When Suri was a child, few things were off limits. She played in the cascades of the forest streams, swam in the flumes of the Bern, climbed to the small branches of the tallest trees and to the peaks where eagles nested. She'd broken an arm, skinned her knees, returned with bee stings, and suffered through rashes from ivy and sumac. Tura patched her up and sent her on her way for more explorations and adventures. Such injuries were trivial, but Grin's cave was another matter. Real danger lay within, making it the single most interesting place in the forest.

Tura was right about everything. She knew when the first snows would come, that the purple salifan berries weren't good to eat, and how to ease the pain of bee stings. She knew the language of the gods, the names of the stars, and the best way to skip a stone across a lake. Out of love and respect for Tura, Suri never went to the cave. Still, she paused in her travels whenever she spotted it and wondered what was inside. After so many years of speculation, Suri had created legends.

Grin wasn't at home, of that Suri was almost certain, and she waited among the muddy bear-print artwork of the “porch” for Maeve to climb the last leg of the journey. The old woman had cast aside most of her wool wraps, going so far as to remove the ever-present white cloth from her head, which she used to wipe the sweat from her face. The locks of white were silky and long, and for a moment Suri could see a younger woman's beauty.

“How did you manage to drag the—” Suri stopped herself. “The
meat
up here?”

“Oh—I didn't.” Maeve puffed hard, steadying her quivering body on the rocks and wiping her red face. “I left the food at the bottom and whistled.” She dabbed at her glistening neck and smiled as a breeze blew through her hair. Again, Suri saw the girl Maeve had once been. The hair helped, but it was the smile that made the biggest difference. Judging from the wrinkles on her face, Maeve didn't often do so.

“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.

“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!”