They rode the waves that rose and fell, and Persephone was glad Arion wouldn’t suffer the sickness that had plagued her on the first trip. Hours passed in silence. When Suri finally spoke for the first time since leaving Belgreig, she said, “Her real name was Gilarabrywn.”
Persephone offered her a little smile. “I like Minna better.”
“So do I,” Brin said.
“Me, too,” Suri agreed. She looked down at the sword and raised it over her head.
“Don’t!” Persephone shouted. “What are you doing?”
“I feel like it should be put to rest, too,” Suri said.
“If you’re just going to throw it away, could I use it first?”
“For what?”
“To change the world.”
Suri looked down at the blade, puzzled.
“It’s a magic sword, Suri. Minna made it so.”
“You know it doesn’t have any real power.” Suri held the sword out to Persephone.
“Trust me, Suri,” Persephone said, feeling the weight of the weapon in her hands, “this sword will change everything.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Keenig
Some things you never see coming. I remember this whenever I think of Udgar.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
The other chieftains were trying to be kind, but their actions only helped to remind Raithe that he had only hours to live. He’d spent the night in the lodge on Lipit’s bed. The evening meal found him feasting on a succulent pig—a prized animal Harkon had brought for a celebration feast. Krugen offered his best wine, but Raithe didn’t drink. His father had taught him to keep a clear head before a fight. Drinking came after.
Lipit also offered him women. Raithe turned them down as well. Herkimer had said women drained men of their vitality. Of course, Raithe knew a lot of his father’s “sage advice” was crap, like how best to raise a family, and how a sword and a reputation meant more than anything. But there was another reason even more substantial. He wasn’t interested. It wouldn’t mean anything, and that night, of all nights, he needed it to mean something.
Raithe had no doubts that Udgar would kill him.
One of the pillars of combat was confidence. To win, a fighter had to believe he would. Raithe knew—absolutely knew—he wouldn’t. While he was a good fighter by Dureyan standards, Udgar was great by Gula reckoning, and even his father had admitted that the Gula-Rhunes were better in battle. Desperation did that to a people, hardened them, and the only people on the face of Elan who had it tougher than the Dureyan were the Gula. For centuries, the Fhrey had ordered attacks against them, and warfare was an integral part of their way of life. They had to become battle masters just to exist.
“You’re going to kill him, right?” Tesh asked, as he opened the windows to let the morning light in. The boy had slept on a mat at the foot of the bed, stunned by the luxury of the room.
“Sure,” Raithe replied. “I’m the God Killer, right? A Gula-Rhune has to be easier than a Fhrey.”
“Then you’ll be keenig.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“Your word will be law over all the clans, over thousands and thousands of people.”
“That’s the idea.”
The boy crossed to the seaward side of the bedroom and continued opening shutters. The kid was still skinny as a bag of bones, but he did have better color. And for the first time, Raithe noticed a fine haze of hair sprouting on his chin and upper lip. A pang of disappointment stabbed him as he realized he’d never see the man this kid would become. Despite his earlier reservations, Tesh had grown on him, as had the idea of shaping his future. Tesh wanted Raithe to teach him to fight, but Raithe wanted to teach the kid so much more—all the things Herkimer had failed at. “I suppose you’ll choose a new Shield, then. As keenig, you’ll need a real Shield.”
“You are a real Shield.”
“You know what I mean.”
Raithe was going to die in a few hours, what difference did it make? “Listen, you’re the only Dureyan besides me. Sure, you might be a bit on the small side now, but you’re good stock. You’ll grow, fatten up, build muscle, train hard…harder than any of them, and one day you’ll be the best warrior in the world, mostly because you’re Dureyan.” He picked up a boot and pulled it on. “But…” He hesitated, stomping his foot into place.
“But what?”
“I can’t teach you what you want to know. No human can.”
“You’re the God Killer. Of course you can. You—”
“And I told you I was lucky. I survived by sheer accident, and because Malcolm has a fixation with rocks and people’s heads. The point is, there isn’t a human alive that can teach you how to fight as well as they do.” He shook his head. “The way you learn how to kill someone is to have them teach you. You learn how they fight. Discover their strengths and weaknesses. Uncover their secrets, and never let them see yours. You want to learn how to kill Fhrey? You learn from them. And yes, they may hide their weaknesses, but you have to see through their deceptions.”
Tesh opened his mouth to object, but Raithe cut the boy off. “And don’t tell me you don’t like them,” he said when Tesh started to frown. “Did you like your village? Did you like the rocks and snakes? Did you like freezing in winter because there wasn’t enough dung to burn? Did you like going days without food? Did you like drinking that muddy water that tasted of metal? I know I didn’t. And no one I knew who was Dureyan ever has. But we still got up every day, still drank that water, dug those rocks, and burned that dung, because Dureyans are survivors, and we don’t complain. So, if you want to learn how to kill elves, you learn from them. Do what you’re told. Listen to what they say. That’s how you beat them.”
“What are elves?” Tesh asked.
“They’re what you want to kill.”
The boy looked puzzled.
“Do you think they deserve to be called gods?”
Tesh smiled. “I have been watching them, going to the practices, seeing what they do. They have different fighting styles. Did you know that? Each of them is a master in a different skill. Sebek uses two small swords and a very aggressive attack. Tekchin relies on a long, light blade and uses a lot of footwork, very complicated. Eres is all about throwing things, spears and javelins mostly. Anwir uses a sling, a net, and a cleve that he spins. Grygor uses a gigantic sword, big even for him. In close quarters, he grabs it partway up the blade, where he dulled the edges for a handgrip. That means he can use the blade as a sword and spear. And Nyphron uses a sword-and-shield combination, sort of like you.” The kid thought a moment. “If I join the practice sessions, let them teach me, I could learn each of the different techniques.”
“Good plan.”
The boy watched Raithe pull his other boot on. “You are going to kill him?”
“We just went over this.”
“It’s just…he’s really big.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“But he carries it easy. He’s got great balance, and he’s naffing light on his feet.”