Read Online Age of Myth by Michael J. Sullivan - Free Book Online Page B

feeble.”
    “I didn’t say you are old. I said Maeve is old—then I clarified that she is ancient. You were the one who brought up your age.”
    “Pretty good memory,” Persephone said.
    Brin flashed her a mischievous grin.
    “You’re supposed to be on my side, Seph,” Sarah told her, then turned to her daughter. “Your grandmother, Brinhilda, taught me her secrets to making Rhen cloth, and—”
    “And you hated it,” Brin said. “You despised how Dad’s mother forced you to work at it for hours at a time.”
    “Of course I did. I was a stubborn young lady like you, but I did it. I learned, and it’s a good thing, too. Otherwise, you and half the dahl would be standing here naked, and what would we do with the wool your father shears?”
    “Being a Keeper is important, as well. Persephone just said so, and she’s the Second Cha—” Brin stopped herself and covered her mouth, looking as if she’d accidentally stepped on a newborn chick.
    “It’s okay,” Persephone told her. She rubbed the empty place where the ring used to be. “We all have changes to get used to.”
    The clangs of battle erupted outside as the fight commenced. A curse was followed by a grunt. Then came the gasp of spectators followed by cheers, boos, and the thud of ax on shield. Brin rushed toward the door, but her mother caught her by the wrist. “You don’t need to see.”
    “I’m getting water. You need water, right?”
    “Brin…” Sarah spoke the name dressed in a heavy coat of disappointment.
    “But I—”
    More grunts could be heard and the sound of shuffling feet, then a crack was followed by a scream. Another collective gasp was heard, but this time there wasn’t a cheer.
    —
    The fight for chieftain had ended, and another battle began—this one waged by a team of women trying to save a man’s life.
    “Move!” Padera shouted.
    The little woman was the first to react. With a round head, full bosom, and ample hips, she looked much like a skirted snowman as she bustled forward, shoving aside men twice her size. Ancient when Persephone was born, Padera was the oldest living member of Clan Rhen. She’d been a farmer’s wife and had successfully raised six children and countless cows, pigs, chickens, and goats. Padera also regularly won the fall harvest contest for biggest vegetables and best pies. There wasn’t anyone more respected on the dahl.
    The ring of onlookers broke on Padera’s approach, giving Persephone a clear view of the common where the two men had fought. The sight made her gasp. From the knee down, Holliman’s leg was covered in blood. Glistening with sweat, Konniger backed away, his ax dangling from loose fingers, the sharpened stone edge dark and dripping. He stared at Holliman with an expression Persephone struggled to place. If anything, Konniger looked guilty.
    Holliman rose up on elbows that he jabbed into the grass. Arching his back and wailing in pain, he dragged his body to…well, to nowhere Persephone could discern. She didn’t think Holliman knew, either. He probably didn’t realize that he was moving or that he was pumping a stream of blood, which soaked a wide swath of spring grass in a thick coat of brilliant red.
    “Hold him down!” Padera called out. “And get me a rope!”
    At her command, several people grabbed Holliman’s arms, pinning him, while others ran off in search of twine.
    Roan, who had been in the ring of spectators, rushed to Padera’s side and stripped off Holliman’s thin rawhide belt. She held it out to Padera.
    “Around the thigh, girl.” The old woman held up the bleeding leg. “Loop it above the knee.”
    Roan executed the instructions as if she’d been asked to tie closed a bag of apples. Padera’s indifference in the face of so much carnage was understandable. The old woman regularly set bones, even those that had broken through skin. She also sewed up deep wounds and delivered breech babies from both women and livestock. But Roan taking the