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.
“Tell the truth. Did you kill Shegon?” the tall one asked.
“Yes,” Raithe said. “And I’ll do the same to any Fhrey who tries to enter this dahl.”
“Well, well. Aren’t you the bold one.” The tall Fhrey took a step closer, and Raithe realized they were the same height. Raithe glared back, refusing to blink.
“So you’re a great warrior, then? Do you think you could kill me?”
He didn’t reply. The Fhrey was sizing Raithe up, and he wanted to keep him ignorant.
“There are stories about you all along the road. I’m a little disappointed. I expected you’d be taller—the tales certainly are.”
The others laughed.
“Do you know who I am?” The tall, long-haired Fhrey held his hands out, palms up, and slowly pivoted to give Raithe a full view. Sun glared off his brilliant armor, and the wind blew his golden hair. “I’m Nyphron, son of Zephyron, leader of the Instarya tribe, and captain of the Galantians, these nice fellows with me. They are the elite of the Instarya, and as there are no greater warriors than the Fhrey, these Galantians are the best of the best.”
“Being their leader, I suppose that makes you the best of the best of the best?” Raithe spoke with a cavalier tone. He wanted to show he wasn’t impressed, which was difficult since he was certain the Fhrey told the truth.
Nyphron shook his head. “No, I’m actually not.” He clapped the short-haired Fhrey’s shoulder. “Sebek is.”
This brought a round of moans from the rest of the troop.
“Well, okay, each of us has specific fields of expertise. But…” He paused, holding up a finger and glancing at the others. “I’d still say Sebek is the best overall warrior. Anyone dispute that?”
Sebek grinned.
No one said a word.
Nyphron returned his focus to Raithe. “I suppose you think you’re something special now that you’ve killed one of us, yes? Before you get too full of yourself, look at the sword you carry. See all the fancy decorations on the hilt? The encrusted gems? Lovely, isn’t it? Do you think that’s a warrior’s weapon? Shegon was a member of the Asendwayr tribe, a hunter. They provide food for our kind. Although they’re skilled trackers and excellent in forests and fields, they don’t know much about real combat. That sword is merely decorative. A pretty toy. He received it as a gift from an admirer. Some idiot in Estramnadon who doesn’t know the first thing about battle made it.”