Age of Swords Read online

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  Roan and Moya followed Persephone into the courtyard of the dahl, having come directly from the docks. She had instructed Brin, Suri, and the dwarfs to take Arion to Padera. Something important was obviously going on, the place was filled with people. All the chieftains were present and dressed in their finest. They sported torcs and fine leigh mors, assuring everyone of their importance. The Galantians clustered on the grass to the right of the gate, and around them remained an open space, an invisible barrier, as no one dared come too close.

  Among the sea of faces gathering on the walls, she spotted Heath Coswall sitting next to Hanson Killian. They were with the Bakers and old Mathias Hagger. Their bare feet dangled, sawing back and forth like a giant centipede. Down on the ground near the empty feed bin, she saw Farmer Wedon with a hand on the shoulder of Shepherd Gelston, who looked confused and pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in months, but at least he was standing. Even Tressa was inside the walls; she stood alone. Gifford leaned on his crutch and Habet’s left shoulder. Persephone’s heart ached when she saw the bruises, but Padera had been right. Gifford could endure blows better than anyone.

  At least they are all here, still alive, still safe.

  Persephone spotted Raithe coming down the steps of the lodge. He had a huge grin on his face, and his eyes were wide with relief as he rushed toward her at a trot. He didn’t stop. He grabbed hold of her with both arms and lifted her off the ground.

  “I missed you,” he whispered as he swung her in a circle. “I feared you’d never come back.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his black beard scratching her face, a feeling she didn’t mind in the least.

  “Of course I was coming back!”

  He let her slip down, and she struggled to plant her feet on dirt again. The welcome was appreciated, but she had work to do and needed to be taken seriously. Being flung in a circle like a new bride didn’t project the image she was trying to portray.

  When he finally let go, she asked, “What’s going on? Has a keenig been chosen?”

  “Not yet.” Raithe sounded giddy and kept staring at her with a big smile.

  She sighed. “So you still won’t do it? You won’t lead us because we lack weapons?”

  “Well, it’s complicated. You see—”

  “Never mind, I have an announcement. I think you’ll want to hear this.” Persephone smiled. “Everyone! Listen to me!” she shouted to the crowd. “I am Persephone, of the House of Gath, chieftain of Clan Rhen.”

  Persephone already had a sizable amount of attention after the dramatic embrace Raithe had given her. She spotted Tegan, Harkon, Lipit, Krugen, and Alward standing near one another by the well and focused on them. “Before I left, there was doubt about our success when facing the Fhrey. We had the numbers, but lacked proper weapons. The Fhrey’s swords and armor were considered too advanced.”

  She turned. “Moya! Roan!”

  The two rushed forward. Moya carried the bow, while Roan carried a blanketed bundle.

  “I’ve traveled across the sea to the land of the Dherg, to the ancient city of Neith, and I’ve returned with hope for our future.”

  The courtyard was silent except for the bustling of people shifting to see what was wrapped in the blanket. Taking the bundle, Persephone lifted the sword above her head. A communal gasp was followed by a deep silence. The morning sun glared off the mirrored blade. Persephone walked in a circle, displaying the weapon to wide eyes and gaping mouths. She ended her circle at the post where Raithe had embedded Shegon’s sword. The blade was still there, extending out like a tree branch.

  Persephone pointed at the bronze blade. “This fine Fhrey sword was placed here by Raithe of Dureya, the God Killer. It’s capable of cleaving any of our weapons. It’s been argued that we stand no chance of fighting the Fhrey because they possess swords like this. Because their metal is so strong.”

  She glanced at Roan. The woman stood with hands clasped before her. Persephone took a deep breath and said a quick prayer to Mari. Wielding the sword with both hands, she raised it high and with as much strength as she could summon swung it in a great overhead chopping motion. The shock jolted up her arms, nearly breaking her grip, but she hung on as the dwarf blade struck the Fhrey’s just above the hilt. She felt it give. When she looked up, only half of the bronze blade remained in the post. The handle lay in the dirt near Raithe’s feet.

  The crowd gasped, and Persephone breathed again.

  Like everyone else, Raithe stared at the shimmering sword in awe. “How many did they give you?”

  “Just this one.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “One?” Raithe looked at her puzzled. “But…just one sword? You can’t outfit an army with a single blade.” She watched his smile fade, his shoulders droop. “Even if they’d given you a thousand, it wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I didn’t return with shipments of swords. Tell him, Roan.”

  Roan, who was still folding up the blanket after having started over three times, froze at the sound of her name.

  “Tell him,” Persephone insisted.

  Roan said something, but with her head down and her hair hiding her face, her voice didn’t carry.

  “Louder, Roan,” Moya said.

  Roan lifted her head. “I…I can make them.”

  “You can make them?” Raithe asked.

  She nodded far too timidly.

  Persephone shouted to the crowd while pointing at her. “This woman knows the secrets to making swords like these!”

  Roan jumped at the volume of Persephone’s voice and visibly cowered. She took several steps backward, leaving the open space of the courtyard and joining the crowd.

  Persephone handed the sword to Raithe.

  He stared at the weapon, then at Roan.

  The girl drew up her shoulders as if she were a turtle trying to hide, but somehow she found the courage to say, “I can make better ones.”

  Raithe glanced at the post. “This one destroyed Shegon’s sword.”

  “I know, but I can do better. I…they…didn’t follow the steps right. But then they didn’t know how to figure out the markings on the stones. Only Brin knows how to do that. In fact, they didn’t even know about the tablet until we brought it out of the mountain. So, they just did what they’ve always done. The Old One’s way is better. More carbon makes it harder, less flexible, and a bit more brittle, but it will hold a sharper edge and be lighter, so much lighter. I could make a sword twice this length and it will weigh half as much. Well maybe not half, a third less perhaps. I don’t know. I have to try some things.”

  The other chieftains approached. “Is it magic?” Tegan asked, watching the blade in Raithe’s hands as if he held a dangerous snake.

  “No,” Persephone said. “Which means Roan can teach others to make them as well.” Persephone stepped before Raithe. “I didn’t bring back a thousand swords. I brought back a thousand swords a month.”

  “More than that…” Roan spoke up again. The girl was a mouse except when it came to talking about how things worked. “Once I get everything figured out, we could work in batches. The real problem is getting the material.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the reddish rock. “This is iron. Well, sorta. I took this from their workshop. They had plenty.”

  The chieftains drew closer to look at the silver-speckled rock.

  “Will the Dherg let us have it?” Krugen asked.

  “For a price, maybe,” Lipit said, his tone disapproving. “The Dherg are vicious traders.”

  “Don’t count on that,” Moya told them. “I doubt they would part with an ounce regardless of the price.”

  “Then what good is it if we can’t—”

  Gifford pushed his way through the crowd, using his crutch like a shepherd’s crook to clear a path. “I’ve seen that be-foe,” he said, elbowing his way in.

  “Gifford!” Roan shouted. Dropping her carefully folded blanket, she rushed over, stopping just short of tou
ching him. “You’re all right! You’re better!”

  “You can look at me and say that?” He grinned.

  “I just thought…I thought…”

  “I thought the same about you.”

  “Where have you seen it?” Harkon demanded.

  Gifford refused to take his eyes off Roan, so when he spoke he appeared to be talking to her. “I dig fo’ stuff to make glazes. Woan and I’ve found all kinds of metals. But I couldn’t do anything with that, so we didn’t use it.”

  Roan smiled. “You have to heat it until it’s very hot. You use this huge bag that blows air. It’s called a bellows.”

  “How common is this?” Lipit asked.

  “Very, I think,” Tegan said. “In Warric we mine for copper in the hill near the Galeannon River. Not much copper, but there’s a lot of this rock.”

  “If we get the iron, we can make more than just swords,” Persephone said. “We can fashion armor, too, shirts of metal rings like the Dherg. They will be light but stop the sharpest blades. And we can make shields that won’t shatter. Given time, we can outfit an army with better weapons and armor than the Fhrey.”

  Raithe took Persephone by the shoulders. He was biting his lower lip as he grinned, his eyes staring as if he’d never seen her before. “You did it,” Raithe said in awe. “You really did.”

  Persephone grabbed hold of his arms and squeezed. “So you’ll accept? You’ll be keenig?”

  He stared into her eyes. “No.”

  “No! But…do you realize how difficult it was to—”

  Raithe turned to the other chieftains and interrupted her. “I never got a chance to name my nomination.”

  This brought a look of puzzlement from everyone.

  “You didn’t need to,” Tegan said. “Persephone already nominated you.”

  “Not me. Her. I nominate Persephone, chieftain of Clan Rhen, to be our keenig.”

  Persephone displayed the most shock of anyone. “Raithe. No. I—”

  “I agree!” Moya said, a huge grin on her face.

  Raithe smiled at her, and then spoke to the chieftains, who looked less than convinced. “For days we’ve sat here arguing and accomplishing nothing. While we talked, while we worried, Persephone risked her life crossing the sea, and she’s returned with the answer to our problems. And did she take an army? Did she wield sword and spear in battle? No. She took the best minds she knew, and that’s how she succeeded, by using her head rather than muscle. Could you have done that, Tegan?”

  The Warric chieftain shook his head and looked at Persephone with different eyes—serious eyes.

  “What about you, Lipit? You live here at the foot of the sea, right across from the Dherg. You trade with them daily. Why didn’t you manage to obtain the secret of this magic metal?”

  Lipit didn’t answer. He, too, stared at Persephone, his eyes shifting from her face to Raithe’s hand and the shimmering sword.

  “Truth is, none of you could. I know I couldn’t.” Raithe raised his voice to a shout. “How about you, Udgar? Could you do what this woman has done?”

  Persephone turned to see a huge, ugly man standing at the far side of the courtyard. He was missing parts of his nose and was covered in thick red hair.

  “Persephone, chieftain of Dahl Rhen”—Raithe motioned to the giant man—“meet Udgar, keenig of the Gula clans.”

  “You are a chieftain?” Udgar spoke in a deep, brawny voice.

  “Yes,” she said, looking nearly straight up at the hulking brute. “So the Gula-Rhunes got my messages.”

  “You called us here? You invited the Gula?”

  “All of this was her idea,” Raithe said. “She was the first to see the threat coming; the first to believe we could win. She called this summit. Persephone is the one who suggested the appointment of a single leader. And when we needed better weapons than the Fhrey’s, she made that happen, too. I’ve never believed in the impossible. I’ve never believed that one person could make a difference. Persephone has proved me wrong. I haven’t believed in much, but…I believe in her. Persephone has done the impossible, not just once but over and over again. Look at Udgar. The leader of the Gula-Rhunes is standing inside Dahl Tirre taking part in the appointment of a keenig for all the clans. Lipit, did you think that would ever happen?”

  The chieftain shook his head.

  “Neither did I, but Persephone thought so, and saw the need, and she made it happen. When I didn’t think there was any way to beat the Fhrey’s weapons, I gave up. A keenig doesn’t give up. Persephone didn’t give up. Look what she’s done with a handful of women and a couple of young girls. Imagine what she could do with the full might of the combined clans!” He shook his head and his eyes settled on her. “Persephone, I can’t be keenig. You already are.” Then he fixed his gaze on Udgar. “And not just the keenig of the Rhulyn-Rhunes. She needs to be the keenig of all the clans!”

  “You can’t be serious!” Nyphron broke into the clearing of people where Persephone and Raithe stood. When he spoke, those close by backed away, including Udgar who glared at the Fhrey. Only Persephone and Raithe held their ground. This didn’t go unnoticed.

  “When you put forth your name for keenig,” Raithe told Nyphron, “you said it wasn’t necessary for the keenig to swing a sword, remember? You said the keenig doesn’t need to be on the battlefield. You said what’s required is someone who sees what needs to be done and can put a plan in place to accomplish it. I’d say obtaining the knowledge of Dherg metal certainly qualifies, wouldn’t you? You also said we need someone who believes in the cause and is willing to sacrifice everything to succeed. Persephone lost her husband, her son, most of her clan, and her dahl. None of those setbacks stopped her. She never gave up. And she isn’t merely willing to sacrifice…she already has.”

  “But what does she know about combat?” Nyphron asked. “How could she possibly—”

  Moya smirked and stepped forward, addressing the Fhrey as bravely and boldly as always. “They didn’t just hand us the recipe, you know. Give us their most sacred traditions with a smile.” She stood leaning on Roan’s bow that, unstrung, looked like a thin staff. “We had to fight for it.”

  “You? Fought?” Udgar chuckled. “What did you fight, little girl? Did you defeat the Dherg’s kittens?”

  Moya smiled up at him. “What I killed would consider you a bug. Balgargarath was a hundred times scarier than your ugly ass.”

  Udgar grinned at her. “You don’t think I’m scary?”

  As casually as if she were courting, Moya flipped back a lock of hair. “After what we’ve seen? You’re a floppy-eared puppy.”

  Udgar’s grin disappeared. “Enough. Do you think me such a fool? That I would be so easily tricked by this staged act. The deceit of the southern clans is legendary, but I see through your false claims. It’s time to fight.” Udgar glared at Raithe. “It’s time for the son of Coppersword to die.”

  “What’s going on?” Persephone asked.

  “The Gula-Rhunes picked their candidate for keenig. Now they want to decide the matter by combat. The winner will be keenig of all the clans,” Raithe told her.

  “Why does everything need to be decided by fighting?” Persephone shouted.

  “To see who is greater!” Udgar shouted. “To see who is worthy to lead. Now get out of the way and let men finish this.”

  Udgar conferred with a group of other Gula, all big, all clad in fur. One held out a spear and shield to him.

  “I’ll fight.” Raithe looked to the chieftains. “But it will be as champion for Persephone. If I win she is keenig, agreed?”

  “Can you beat him?” Persephone asked quietly.

  Raithe didn’t answer.

  All around the courtyard, people became excited. The show they’d come to see was about to begin. Those nearby backed away. Those far away leaned forward, and the courtyard became a hum of whispers.

  “Raithe? Can you?”

  He looked at the sword and then into her eyes. “I don
’t know. I didn’t think it was possible, but with this…” He looked to the sword. “Maybe with this I can.”

  When Udgar turned back, Raithe stepped between him and Persephone.

  “Well? Who will it be?” Udgar asked. “Do you accept the son of Coppersword as your champion? Or do you prefer to fight me yourself? Or maybe the pretty one with the big mouth.” He laughed wholeheartedly. “It doesn’t matter. Whoever I fight, I’ll kill, and then I’ll be keenig. Who do you choose? Who will face me?”

  “Me,” Raithe declared.

  “No. Not him,” Persephone replied quickly, moving out from behind.

  Raithe spun to look at her. “Don’t be insane. He’ll kill you.”

  “No, he won’t.”

  Raithe was stern to the point of anger. He took her aside and whispered, “Udgar is probably the best warrior in all the clans. All the clans…Gula and Rhulyn both.”

  “Better than you?”

  Again, Raithe didn’t answer.

  She squeezed his hand. “I don’t need you to act as my champion. I have a new Shield.”

  “What? Who?”

  Persephone pulled away from him and faced Udgar, who stood with shoulders back and chin up. His awful scarred face highlighted his self-important sneer. She looked to Moya, who nodded slightly. “If you must have a fight to decide this, Moya will act as my champion.” Persephone gestured in her Shield’s direction.

  “The little girl with the mouth even bigger than her eyes?” Udgar looked at Moya, nodding with amusement. “Oh, I see. You think I won’t kill a pretty girl. That I will concede the fight and make you the keenig. You are wrong. I’ve killed many pretty girls. I accept this challenge.”

  “Is that so?” Moya said.

  “Wait!” Tekchin rushed to Moya’s side. The Fhrey had a vicious look on his face. “I’ll do it.” He peered at Udgar like a hungry mountain cat eyeing an abandoned baby. “I’ll fight in her place.”

  Lipit turned to Tegan. “If I’d known there would be so many champion volunteers, I would have pushed harder to be keenig myself.”

  “The Fhrey aren’t a part of this,” Udgar declared. “We are choosing a keenig. The killing of the Fhrey will come after.”