Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire, #1)

by Michael J. Sullivan

Sunlight had a way of showing the realities that shadows born of firelight hid.

He was called the God Killer, and we first heard about him from the traders traveling the northern routes. His legend grew, but no one believed, not in the beginning. Except me. —THE BOOK OF BRIN

“My father always said fires were only dangerous if they got bored,” Raithe pressed on. “Left alone, they get frustrated and resort to evil. Best way to keep a fire happy is by letting it lick food and hear stories.”

The metal of his blade had broken, but the mettle of the man rang true.

Strict laws governed the succession of power within the clan, traditions passed down through the generations by the Keeper of Ways. Nearly all involved men fighting, and it was the strongest among us who ruled. —THE BOOK OF BRIN

Delicate, radiant, beautiful, in our eyes she was every inch a god, and she scared us to death.

“An Artist, Mother. Miralyith are Artists, not magicians. Magicians perform tricks using sleight of hand. Artists raise mountains, control the weather, and reroute rivers.”

Miralyith were called Artists because of the creativity needed to manifest magic, and when that creativity was applied to acts of retribution, the results could be terrifying.

Magda was an ancient oak tree that grew in a glade on a hill deep in the forest. It was said she could tell the future and would answer any question posed beneath her leaves. For most people, “asking the oak” was a simple thing, an afternoon’s walk. For Persephone, the trip took a day and a night and cost more than one life.

There is an old clan saying: When a stranger comes to the door, always be generous because it might be a god in disguise. In my experience, gods do not use disguises. They are too arrogant.

Caught early enough, the waking forest had no time to disguise itself into something mundane. This was a place of enchantments, a place where anything could happen.

There were seven clans of the Rhulyn-Rhunes and three for the Gula-Rhunes. Each clan had a chieftain. When it was necessary to unite, a single leader was named and we called him the keenig, which eventually became the word king. The Fhrey had tribes instead of clans and no chieftains. Instead, they had a single ruler who was called the fane. —THE BOOK OF BRIN

Power has a way of seducing by saying what you want to hear. Remember, it’s easier to believe an outlandish lie confirming what you suspect than the most obvious truth that denies it,

“People who lead don’t need to remind others who the leader is. All I want is for you to do your duty.”

Suri had a wolf named Minna. They were the best of friends and roamed the forest together. She had tattoos, was always filthy, afraid of nothing, and could do magic. From the first time I met her, I wanted to be Suri…I still do.

First, Lothian enveloped himself in a shield of air, rendering Zephyron’s weapons and fighting ability useless. Next came humiliation. Using the Art, Lothian turned his opponent into a puppet. Zephyron stripped, danced, and humiliated himself before the crowd. Lothian forced the Instarya leader to crawl on all fours, bark, howl, roll in mud, and eat grass like an animal. Then the show started a long walk into darkness as Lothian began his second act by forcing Zephyron to mutilate himself. The first offense was making him bite off and swallow each of his fingers. At that point, Arion had risked admonishment by leaving. She had only reached the rear of the arena before vomiting. Later, she heard that the “battle” had continued for another two hours and that by the end of it she hadn’t been the only one to get sick. When Lothian finally granted the Instarya death, Zephyron had become unidentifiable as a Fhrey. No wonder the Instarya didn’t embrace the Miralyith as benevolent leaders.

When I was born, the name Moya had no meaning or significance in the Rhunic, Dherg, or Fhrey languages. It does now. And in all three it means the same thing—brave and beautiful.

Fools believe silence is a void needing to be filled; the wise understand there’s no such thing as silence.

We were foolish to think the Fhrey were gods, but it was insanity for the Fhrey to believe it, too. I’d rather be foolish than insane.

What length will a mother go to on behalf of her child? How long is time? What is the depth of love?

If you see people having an argument over nothing, look for a knot in their hair or clothes, Tura had said. Untie it and the disagreements will vanish.