Age of Swords (The Legends of the First Empire #2)

“So what are you thinking?”

She wasn’t. That was the point. Thinking hurt. Of course the attack was deliberate, but who exactly was being targeted? The Rhune village for Gryndal’s death? Nyphron for his defiance? And it was impossible to discount the accuracy of the lightning strikes. Had Prince Mawyndul? convinced his father that she was a threat for the part she had played?

“I think this isn’t the time to have this conversation. I’m tired, my head hurts, and I just want to rest.”

“Your hesitation has already cost us valuable time. Months have passed while we’ve lingered and done nothing.” He gestured at the devastation around them. “This is the result. We need to take this war to Fane Lothian himself.”

“War?” Now it was her turn to use an incredulous tone. “What war? Yes, Dahl Rhen has been attacked, but I really can’t blame Lothian for that. This dahl has harbored you and your Galantians, and one of its residents killed First Minister Gryndal. This was retaliation, plain and simple. But a war? What I need to do is defuse the situation, not fan the flames.”

“Are you really so na?ve? This isn’t about a single dahl. Did they even tell you why you were sent to retrieve me? What my transgression had been?”

“Yes. You attacked Petragar, the new leader of Alon Rhist.”

“I chose to avoid arrest for disobeying an order, a directive to destroy the Rhune villages—all of them. Lothian wants the Rhunes gone. The fane has declared war.”

Arion did remember passing through a burnt set of ruins, but it wasn’t until then that she realized how it had been destroyed and why.

“But you can’t fight a war against Estramnadon. Will you kill your own kind? Break Ferrol’s Law? You can’t possibly be willing to be barred from Phyre. Living the rest of your life as an outlaw is one thing, but being banned from the afterlife is unthinkable.”

“I don’t have to do any killing myself. I’ll teach the Rhunes to fight. They can do the slaying. Raithe has proved that. They just need training.”

“And you think with a few lessons they can stand against the full might of the fane?”

Nyphron smirked, shifting his eyes as if she’d said something both amusing and distasteful. “The fane? What does Lothian know about war? What do any of those across the Nidwalden know of battle? We Instarya have protected them for centuries. If my host of Rhunes can present a credible threat, then the rest of the Instarya will join our cause.”

“As simple as that, is it?”

“At the very least my brothers-in-arms will stay out of the conflict. And without them, the fane will have no strategists, no skilled commanders, no warriors, no army, and no clue how to fight.”

“And the Miralyith? Fenelyus single-handedly defeated the entire Dherg army at the Battle of Mador. Your mighty Instarya were merely spectators.”

“We’ll use the Dherg runes. Put them on every shield, every helm.”

Arion was surprised. He’d thought this through more than she’d expected. Clever, but filled with holes overlooked out of ignorance or stupidity. She remembered the words of Fenelyus: It’s easier to believe the most outlandish lie that confirms what you suspect than the most obvious truth that denies it. Apparently, lying to oneself wasn’t restricted to Artists.

“The Dherg’s runes won’t win a war for you,” she said, blinking against the pain that was making her eyes water. “Your thinking is limited, skewed toward what you want, what you need to believe. The runes will only prevent the Art from affecting the wearer. If I wanted to kill you right now, my first thought might be to incinerate you. Fire is easy and doesn’t take much effort. It is one of the first things aspiring Miralyith learn, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t work, would it? The flames would be conjured and you’ve already lined the interior of that armor with protective markings.”

Nyphron’s brows lifted, confirming that Arion was right, and that he was surprised she had guessed.

“But what if I opened the ground beneath your feet? Or caused a tree to fall on you. What if I rerouted a river through your army’s camp…a big, powerful river? The Miralyith are a creative lot. We call it the Art for a reason. So how will you and your Rhune army stand against a team of Miralyith who are able to turn Elan herself against you?”

The pounding in Arion’s head was lessening. Maybe the tea was helping. She was finding it easier to think.

“I’ll overwhelm them with numbers. Do you know how many Rhunes there are?” he asked.

“Thousands.”

Nyphron smiled with equal parts pleasure and mischief. “One of the tasks of the Instarya is to keep a census of the Rhunes, the same way we track animal populations and the status of the Grenmorians and goblins. Every ten years we take a count. When the numbers get too large, we promote warfare between the Gula-Rhunes and the Rhulyn-Rhunes to cull the herds.”

“That’s terrible.”

Nyphron shook his head. “What would be terrible is to let them breed uncontrolled. In a few generations, the Rhunes would be a flood upon the world, and the Fhrey and Dherg could be pushed aside and eventually erased. And it’s not like they don’t enjoy killing one another. They would fight more if we didn’t stand between them. But we should have been more vigilant. Once they settled in villages, even primitive ones like this, their population exploded. When they were nomadic, their numbers were kept small by predators like the goblins and Grenmorians, and by a lack of food. But then they learned farming.”

“Did we teach them?”

“No, they started using copper and tin around that same time, so we think it was the Dherg.” He shot a glare in the direction of the three, who huddled near the outer wall. They weren’t close enough to hear the conversation, but there was no mistaking the disgust in Nyphron’s venomous expression. All three got up and moved farther away.

“The Dherg taught the barbarians all sorts of things, and soon the Rhunes were erecting granaries and buildings, settling down, and spreading out. Suddenly there were thousands, then tens of thousands, and now…” He lowered his voice for dramatic effect. “Arion, there are more than a million Rhunes.”

“Million?” she asked, certain that she heard incorrectly, or that her sluggish, wounded brain wasn’t recognizing a jest.

There were only about fifty thousand Fhrey, and the idea that Rhunes could outnumber them twenty to one was disturbing.

“And it’s only going to get worse. Next year, Estramnadon will welcome, what, ten or twenty births? That same year the Rhunes will see twenty-five thousand.”