Age of Myth (39 page)

Whether the bear wanted in or out no longer mattered. The stone was around its throat, and the beast was caught. It pressed forward and jerked back in frustration. With one paw still hooked, its claws gripped the edge of the door. Four dark claws as long and thick as fingers dripped blood—pieces of flesh trapped under each. The bear roared in anger and with an effort pushed its paw against the door.

Persephone watched in horror as the stone slab inched back. With another grunt, the bear pushed again. The stone gave another inch, the gap growing wider. Soon the bear would be able to catch the edge of the door with its back claws and heave it wide.

Inside the room and to the right of the door lay Raithe's old shield. The same one she'd used when fighting the wolves. Persephone picked it up and, just as before, used both hands to thrust the bottom edge at The Brown's snout. The animal wailed and growled. She hit the beast again and again, as hard as she could. The bear's face turned bloody.

The Brown jerked backward. In a panic to escape the blows, the bear withdrew the paw that had clutched the edge of the door. With its removal, the stone slab resumed its left-to-right march, closing once again. The gap remained too small for the bear to pull its head out. Trapped, The Brown twisted and jerked violently, but the door continued to close, pinching around its neck. Again Persephone bashed at the animal's face in the vain hope of somehow forcing it out. The bear wailed in desperation, fear, and anger.

As the door slid the bear's roar became a whimper.

Tighter and tighter the stone inched, squeezing the animal's throat. The Brown jerked harshly, still struggling to wrench its head free. Then the animal succumbed to panic. Ignoring all pain, it bucked and twitched, shrieking in such terror that Persephone took a step back.

Slowly, very slowly, the bear lost its strength. Persephone watched its face, its bloodied nostrils and eyes, as The Brown grew silent and still. Persephone continued to stand before it, holding the shield and rocking with the pounding of her heart.

After several minutes with no movement from the bear's head, she finally allowed herself to sit down. She sat right before the door, in front of the massive head of the bear, whose eyes remained open. Two small black globes like polished pebbles reflected the green light. Persephone felt her breathing hitch. She still held tight to the shield, and wrapping her arms around it, she began to cry.

At first, the tears came from the aftermath of fear—the sort of mortal terror she hadn't known before—which left her exhausted and stripped of dignity and pride. Yet that was only the beginning. In her weakened, exposed state, the dam burst. She relived the deaths of Mahn and Reglan, followed by her two younger children. She thought about Aria and her mangled son, Gifford, who somehow had survived against all odds. She imagined the deaths of Raithe and Malcolm, Maeve and Suri. She cried for all of them and for the innocents of Nadak and Dureya. Crouching on the floor in the eerie green light, she wept until she had no more tears. Then she lay down with her cheek against the stone. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember how to breathe, how to think, and how to live. Somewhere in that process, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep.

They found her in the rol covered in blood, holding Raithe's old shield.

The dead bear was in the door, Konniger's remains just outside. They identified him by the copper boss of the shield floating in the pool. Konniger's spear was there, too, lost in the fall. He hadn't expected to fight a bear.

Raithe was the first one into the rol, with Malcolm, Suri, and Nyphron close behind.

He stood over Persephone, feeling his strength run out. He knew they would be too late the moment Suri told them about the bear's intentions. Dureyans weren't used to happy endings. That was one of the reasons he'd always enjoyed his sister's tales. They gave him hope—but they were just stories; reality always turned out differently. He stood over Persephone's crumpled body, vainly clutching the shield he'd left, and found himself wishing that
he'd
been her Shield. That he could have been there even if it meant dying alongside her.

Strange how I never appreciate anything until after it's gone: my family, my father, Dureya…her.

Slowly, gently, he bent down. “I'm sorry I wasn't here,” he said, and kissed her on the forehead, surprised at how warm she still felt. Usually, the—

She woke with a jerk and pulled back, disoriented and frightened, until she saw them.

“Raithe?” Persephone said groggily.

Raithe sucked in a sharp, stunned breath. “Are you—are you all right?” he asked, shocked. An immense and uncontrollable grin stretched across his face.

Persephone hesitated and looked out at the bear still lying in the open doorway. Slowly she nodded. “Yes…yes, I think so. And you're all right, too.” Her eyes brightened, then she hugged him. Arms tight around his neck, she squeezed, but only briefly. “Konniger said—but I guess he lied.” Spotting Suri, she pulled back and exclaimed, “You're alive!”

“You have black hair,” the mystic replied, then looked at the dead bear. “But I'm not in the mood for games just now.”

“I wasn't playing. I—” Persephone stopped and looked around the rol. “What about Maeve? Where is she?”

Faces darkened, Suri's most of all. “Maeve died…Grin…” Suri continued to stare at the body of the bear lying outside the open door. “I don't think Grin was a demon; she was just a bear. Maeve fought The Brown—fought the bear for
me,
I think.”

“Maeve fought The Brown?” Persephone asked, stunned.

“With Tura's staff.” Suri held up the stick. “She was fierce.” Suri petted the wolf. “So was Minna.”

“How long have you known of this place?” Nyphron asked as the other Galantians filed into the rol and walked around the stone pillars, looking at the walls in fascination.

“We just learned of it,” Persephone said. “Suri showed us.”

The Galantian leader turned to eye the mystic. “The tattooed one?” he asked.

“Is this it?” Sebek asked him, pointing at the runes that circled the walls.

“Stryker,” Nyphron called, and the goblin entered from where he had waited in the crevice.
“Vok on hess?”
Nyphron asked, in an unpleasant language that sounded as if he were coughing up something to spit.

Stryker drew back his hood, revealing a monstrous face and head. He gazed up at the writing. The creature, which was how Raithe thought of Stryker for he was too repulsive to be thought of as a person, shambled slowly around the room. The goblin raised a hand at the runes and pointed with its claws.

“Et om ha,”
the goblin replied to Nyphron, and nodded. The Fhrey smiled.

Raithe extended his hand to Persephone. “It's nearly morning. I think it's time we took you home.”

I could not move, not my arms, my legs, or even my head. I was forced to watch, and I was not even allowed to scream.

—
T
HE
B
OOK OF
B
RIN

They exited the forest in a solemn procession by the first light of dawn. Persephone, Raithe, Malcolm, and Suri followed behind the Fhrey, who carried the shattered bones of Maeve.

Hours before, Persephone had found the Black Spear of Math right where she'd dropped it, within sight of the glade battlefield. The weapon lay among the men's bodies. She was grateful Raithe and Malcolm were safe but couldn't find any cheer in her heart for the victory. Many of the dead had lived in Rhen all their lives. She knew their parents, families, and friends, and not even her own safety could lighten that weight.

Persephone's feet and skirt were soaked with morning dew as she struggled to march through the tall grass. An overwhelming exhaustion extended beyond muscle and bone, even beyond the aftermath of the battle with a giant bear. She felt empty, truly empty, to the point of being erased. With the death of Konniger and the bear, a portion of her life had reached a conclusion. Her memory of Reglan remained mortally wounded. Discovering that he'd had a child with Maeve was a shock, but his order to kill a baby and hide the affair for years was beyond her ability to forgive. Persephone had drawn strength from Reglan when he was alive and from his memory after his death. That morning she could no longer lean on him, and she wasn't certain where she found the strength to keep walking.

Suri matched her in expression as she stared out at the rising sun. She held something tightly in her hand and repeatedly looked at it with increasing concern.

“What's that you've got?” Persephone asked.

“A bone,” Suri said.

A month ago such a reply might have surprised Persephone, but that morning Suri could have admitted to holding the beating heart of the Tetlin Witch and Persephone wouldn't have blinked.

“Grin was coming to kill everyone.”

“That's why you went after the bear? Because you thought it was coming to attack the dahl?”

Suri nodded. “The bone told me Grin would attack this morning.”

“Looks like Magda was right. We did what she said, and Grin has been killed.”

Suri didn't look convinced.

“What?”

“The signs I saw indicated something that—something bigger. Grin was a bear with a hunger for human flesh but still just a bear.”

“Maybe you just read them wrong. Saw more danger than there really was.”

“What do you think, Minna?” Suri asked the wolf.

The wolf panted alongside her with saliva dripping off her tongue.

“Minna is not so sure,” Suri said. “And Minna is a very smart wolf, maybe the wisest in the world.”

The light rising from behind the jagged teeth of the forest turned the sky purple and orange and shone on the walls of Dahl Rhen. Persephone made out the banners flapping above the lodge roof. She slowed, then stopped altogether. She glanced at Suri, and her eyes narrowed.

What if Suri didn't read the signs wrong? What if the wolf is right?

“What's wrong?” Raithe asked after noticing she was several steps behind the rest.

“No horn,” she replied.

“Is that unusual?” Malcolm asked. “It's just us, after all, and it's early.”

“No men on the ramparts, either.”

Circling, they found the gate open, both doors flung wide—too wide. Usually only Delwin and Gelston left early, and they had a habit of opening only the left side because the doors were heavy and the right one always stuck. Also, the gate doors had been thrown inward rather than pushed out. No one pulled the massive doors open from the inside; they were easier to push.

Nerves and exhaustion, that's all it is,
she assured herself.
It would be strange if I didn't have a sense of dread creeping with me after what I've been through.

Still, she couldn't shake the fear. She imagined walking through the roundhouses and finding everyone slain, just as she had found Konniger's men lying among the trees. What she actually saw when she stepped through the open gate was far less macabre, but far more disturbing.

Everyone on the dahl was awake and standing in perfect rows in front of the lodge, facing the gates. Persephone was startled at the size of the crowd. Even on meeting nights, when everyone was supposed to show up, not everyone did. The sick and injured didn't come, and there were always sick and injured. Usually, those caring for them stayed home, too. A dahl the size of Rhen required a lot of food, and there was always a hunting party or two that would be out, sometimes for weeks. And then there were those who didn't want to come. Padera had stopped bothering to show up years ago.

More disturbing than the number of people assembled was the way in which they were grouped. Sarah was nowhere near Delwin or Brin. Roan was in the front row even though Gifford was in the back, and Moya was shoulder-to-shoulder with Tressa.

“Something is
very
wrong,” Persephone whispered.

“Sarah? Moya?” Persephone called out. “What's going on? Why are you all out here?”

No one moved or spoke, and there wasn't a smile among them. But in their eyes Persephone saw screams. Raithe pointed toward the storage pit at a remarkable sight: two tethered horses.

The Fhrey laid Maeve on the grass. Nyphron drew his sword from its scabbard, and it made a gentle hiss against the metal sheath. The giant pulled free his massive sword. Sebek pulled both of his blades, and Tekchin drew forth a thin, delicate blade. Malcolm held his spear at the ready. Beside Persephone, Raithe put a hand on his sword but didn't draw it. Minna let out a low guttural growl, and Suri bent over to pat her neck.

They moved forward as a group but had taken only a few steps when a tall Fhrey, as hairless as Arion, emerged from the lodge and stopped them with his stare. Numerous rings pierced the skin of his ears, cheeks, and nose, and chains hung between them. On his hands, the fingernails were so long that they curled around themselves in yellowed swirls. His chest was bare, and he wore a skirt of gold. A mantle, also gold, draped across his shoulders and flowed to the ground. Beside him came a smaller, younger Fhrey wearing a shimmering robe of purple and white, the hood of the garment raised.

“Nyphron, son of Zephyron.”
The god of chains spoke in Fhrey, and his voice boomed with unnatural volume.
“We've been waiting for you.”

Surely
that
is a god,
Persephone thought. Not a kind or benevolent one but the embodiment of great and terrifying power. His face lacked even a single hint of compassion.

Beside the god the younger Fhrey shifted his weight and fidgeted with nervous excitement like a boy on his first hunt. Behind them, eight more Fhrey strode through the lodge doorway. They carried swords and wore armor similar to that of the Galantians, but they had helms shaped like the heads of lions. They took up positions on either side of the younger Fhrey and stood in stiff lines, not dissimilar to the way everyone else was standing.

The god of chains walked forward, descending the steps of the lodge and moving through the ranks of villagers, who shifted in perfect unison to allow his passage. The other Fhrey remained on the elevated porch, watching.

“Gryndal, you cuckold cur and craven whore's son,” Nyphron replied in Rhunic.

Persephone held her breath, her eyes wide, but the god of chains merely stared at Nyphron with suspicion.

“It's a common Rhune welcome,”
Nyphron said, this time in Fhrey.

“I'm certain.”
Gryndal advanced until he stood in the exact center of the dahl, with the villagers behind him and the Galantians in front.
“You know why I'm here.”

“Of course. You've finally found wisdom and decided to join the Instarya. Unfortunately, we don't—”

Nyphron collapsed to his knees, fell forward, and gasped for air.

“I'm not Petragar,”
Gryndal said, baring his teeth
. “And I'm not Arion. I won't be toyed with. I have full authority to act as the fane in these forsaken lands. You know what that means. All of you stand guilty of rebellion, rebellion against your fane, against your god, and against nature.”

Gryndal walked around Nyphron, and as he did, Persephone felt a jolt, as if an invisible giant had grabbed hold of her neck and wrists and shoved her back a step. The unexpected lurch knocked Math's spear from her hand. The weapon fell to the grass, and she was unable to retrieve it. The unseen giant hands held her so tightly that she couldn't move. She couldn't speak and could barely breathe.

“Fenelyus is dead. She, who ushered in the new order, was an anchor. It's time for the Miralyith to assume their proper place as gods and for ordinary Fhrey to realize they're just one more race that crawls upon the world.”
Gryndal bent slightly to look at Nyphron, who remained on his hands and knees, his face clenched in pain.

Stryker made a noise—something no one else had managed. The goblin also succeeded in sluggishly raising his clawed hands. This caught the god's attention.

“You have a ghazel, I see. An oberdaza—an abomination. The Art is not for the likes of them.”

Gryndal made a slight motion with his fingers, and the goblin flew backward. The sounds the goblin made weren't the cry of a man but the high-pitched shriek of an animal, not unlike the noises Konniger had made. But the goblin's screams didn't last as long; after some snapping he became still and silent.

Gryndal looked toward the young Fhrey standing on the lodge's porch.
“Have you met the prince, Nyphron? This is Mawyndulë, son of Lothian, come to see how gods conduct themselves—to witness justice. I'm his teacher, and you are today's lesson. The fane has granted me the power of execution to deal with the trouble you've caused. You have displeased us, and for that I'll take your life just as I crushed it out of your ghazel. But let it not be said that I'm an ungenerous god. Your life is over, but I'll allow the Galantians to live if they repent for their crimes—if they bow and worship as is proper.”

He pointed to the gathered villagers.
“As your god, I demand a sacrifice. Demonstrate your remorse. The Rhunes are a plague upon the face of Elan, and you have wallowed with them for far too long. Destroy them. Cut them down as evidence that you are still worthy to be called Fhrey. In return, I'll grant you permission to live. Sacrifice their lives to your new gods, to the Miralyith, and I'll forgive your weaknesses. What is your answer?”

“We don't take orders from a culina brideeth!”
Sebek said.

Persephone didn't understand either word, but Gryndal certainly did. His eyes widened, and his lips drew back, revealing white teeth. Just then, the prince stepped forward, a puzzled look on his face.
“You care more for Rhune animals than your own people? Your own friends?”

Nyphron looked up at the prince, helpless.

“Gryndal, let him speak,”
Mawyndulë requested.

“As you wish,”
the god of chains said, and the strain on Nyphron's face lessened.

“It is not that I care so much for the Rhunes,”
Nyphron said.
“But more that I hate you—you, your father, all the Miralyith, and, most of all, this miserable excuse for—”
Nyphron grunted in pain, his words choked off.

“Hate?”
the prince asked incredulously. He uncovered his head, revealing that he, too, was as bald as Arion and the god of chains. He took a step forward as if to present himself more clearly, as if it was possible that Nyphron didn't recognize him.
“How can you hate me? I'm your prince.”

Gryndal twitched a finger, and Nyphron could speak again, though his voice was strained.
“You're not my prince. You're a worthless Miralyith.”

“Worthless?”
The prince looked stunned.
“The Miralyith are your betters. I should think at a moment such as this you'd be painfully aware of that fact. How can you deny it?”

“Because power doesn't equal worth,”
Arion said. She stepped through the lodge door, walking slowly and favoring her left side.
“Wisdom, the sort that your grandmother Fenelyus employed, is a far greater virtue.”
She turned to Gryndal.
“I told you that I had agreed to take Nyphron's proposal to Fane Lothian. This madness can end in a sensible conclusion that doesn't require rivers of blood.”

“Acting as fane, I've heard and rejected that proposal,”
Gryndal replied.

“You can't.”
Arion descended the porch steps with some effort and approached the god of chains.

Gryndal fixed her with a withering stare.
“I'm empowered by Fane Lothian to do as I see fit.”

“As a member of the Miralyith, I demand that the fane personally hear what I have to say.”

“As a member of the Miralyith?”
Gryndal sneered
. “Not anymore. As you explained, your wound has ejected you from our order.”

“A Miralyith is not defined solely by the Art.”

“Of course we are.”

Arion faced him in the center of the dahl, in the open lawn beside the common well where the Galantians had camped, where the ladies of the dahl had led a well raid, and where Persephone had married Reglan. Now two godlike beings in shimmering clothes stood on that same grass, glaring at each other like a pair of contentious thunderclouds, and Persephone felt the same unease as if a storm were rising.

“The fane needs to know what I've discovered about the Rhune girl. About Suri. I won't let you kill them,”
Arion said in a low voice.