The Eighth Power: Book II: The Book of the Earth Read online



  Book II

  The Book of the Earth

  Paul Lytle

  Copyright 2013 Paul Lytle

  Table of Contents

  The Pantheon of Gods

  Maps

  What Came Before

  The Book of the Earth

  About the Author

  Appendix A: The Dynasties of Aeresan

  Appendix B: The Post-Wars Calendar

  Appendix C: A Glossery of Names and Places

  The Pantheon of the Gods

  Maps

  What Came Before

  The adventure began in The Book of the Living, available for free download for most electronic devices.

  There are six gods, and then there is the Absence . . .

  On the eighth day of Osilar, in the year 8704, the wicked race of ern, aided by some who have turned their back on the Six and now follow the Void (known as Vid), killed two Prophets – the Prophet of the Flame and the Prophet of the Wind. They had been tortured for some information, but the Prophets had not understood what the ern was seeking. The incredible power of the Prophets, also called Wizards, was passed on to another generation – each Prophet’s power finding a boy born that very day and investing itself into that infant. The five remaining Prophets set out to find the two new Wizards, but so did the vast army of ern, and they left a wake of death and destruction behind them.

  Barrin Iylin is a simple farmer from Lanshire who had just lost his wife in the birth of their son, Ayrim. The farmer, oblivious to the events around him, struggles to raise the child on his own. But he soon finds out that the ern are after all boys born that day, and that they will come for Ayrim too.

  One of the remaining Prophets makes it to Lanshire and confirms that Ayrim is not one of the new Prophets, but the ern are undeterred. In desperation, Barrin makes his way to Saparen, a walled city, where the Baron, Dravor Verios, is protecting several infants born on the eighth of Osilar. The ern unite and attack, and they come with an unexpected power – the power to Invoke the Absence. While Prophets can use Magic easily, Invocation is much more difficult, but many of the ern and the men who had sided with them can Invoke much more powerfully than anyone thought possible. Saparen is only saved when King Regis Trosalan appears with his forces. Once the victory is secure, Trosalan announces his plan to take over the Last Stand – a series of castles on a river to the west – in order to protect the kingdom. Securing those castles will prevent another ern invasion, but the Kingdom of Fahlin controls them.

  Barrin is fatally wounded in the fight, and he dies with his son in his arms – the son he had just saved. Ayrim is adopted by a Thane, Gerill Hyte, and will remain in Saparen under the protection of the Baron.

  The ern forces are decimated, but not destroyed, and the new Prophets remain missing.

  The Book of the Earth

  Chapter 1

  It was Tianon’s Day, and the northeastern den was even more quiet than was usual for the people of the hard faith, for their god demanded meditation and prayer on his day. A man in Saparen grew used to the rotating Holy Days, when one section of the city would be suddenly shut up and quiet, even while the other five areas continued with the daily business. Master Gerill Hyte had never known anything different, though he knew that many from smaller towns, with only three (or even two or one!) temples, were accustomed to a common schedule amongst all people in the area. But complexity to someone practiced in complexity often seemed simple, and Hyte often wondered how a city could function with nearly all its citizens taking the same day off. Better that someone somewhere would be working on each day, he thought, even if it meant having to learn a man’s faith along with his name to know when it was appropriate to call upon him.

  It was all fairly simple, as far as Gerill was concerned. It was Tianon’s Day, and so, when evening came, he would simply avoid the Solid Earth Inn, since the Tianans there would sing the dreary hymns of the Earth God rather than their regular songs or love and war. Instead, he would visit the Whispering Wind in Whesler’s Den, or perhaps the Undying Flame near his own home. The proprietors of those inns had their own Holy Days named after their own deities, and Tianon’s Day, to them, held no more importance than Last Day.

  Or, if all of his regular common rooms were full, the people at the Dwarf’s Call of Tarite’s Den held that death was only a few years away for anyone, and that they had no time for Holy Days. That was not the official position of Tarite’s Temple, of course, but the people at the tavern needed some sort of hook to get people into the Dark Den, which was the nickname for the northwest section.

  The mental debate was likely for naught, however, since the Thane would more than likely stay home that evening. He normally did. He liked the stories of the taverns, and also the songs and company, but the joys of home were greater. It was just that planning for a night in the common room of an inn simply sounded more exciting in his mind than planning for a night at his home, even if the latter was actually the better choice in most cases.

  “Gerill,” said the young boy, whose hand was tiny within the Thane’s. He was Ayrim Iylin, and though he was quite small compared to his adoptive father, Hyte was constantly amazed by the child’s size. Had it really been eleven years since Ayrim had come into his home? It seemed far less, and yet that infant, a year old and small for his age, was now nearly a young man. He was several inches taller than the other boys in his catechism, and a bit taller than the older boys Gerill taught in swordplay. Strange, since as an infant he was quite a bit smaller than normal, but it was so. He didn’t really look much like his father, Barrin, except in his thin mouth, but he was handsome, and so Gerill imagined that his mother must had been a very beautiful woman. Hyte had liked Barrin a great deal, but could not have honestly called the man handsome. As for Ayrim, blond hair laid flat upon his square head, and his eyes were large in wonder. Yes, this boy seemed amazed by everything, and sought knowledge and understanding in all areas. Gerill had to smile. The boy could become a Priest as easily as a warrior, or a farmer without too much more study in any area. Already he knew more in each field than most men of twenty. It was partially due to Gerill’s direction, for the Thane was determined that his son know the ways of all men, though he was heir to a man of privilege, but it was mostly due to Ayrim himself, for the boy was proud of his progress, and determined to achieve more.

  No, the child was rather unlike Barrin Iylin, save only for his heart. But then, that was the most important thing he could have inherited.

  Ayrim repeated, “Gerill,” and the Thane shook the random thoughts from his head.

  “Yes, son?” he said. He had claimed to be the boy’s true father, but rather told him everything he knew of the man who had brought him to Saparen so long before. But he still called Ayrim his son, and would for the rest of his days.

  “I will be asked to choose my faith next week, at the beginning of the Autumn.”

  “Yes,” said the elder. “Though you are so much farther ahead than most beginning their twelfth year. I think you might have read as many of the Holy Texts as I have.”

  The boy grinned, but said, “I know that is not true!”

  “We will ask Jeslin to be the judge of it. Have you already decided your path?”

  “No.” Ayrim looked concerned. “It is harder than I thought. They are all good, aren’t they? The gods, I mean.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why must we choose between good gods?”

  Gerill knelt down before his son, proud that Ayrim was asking such questions. They were the questions children were supposed to ask during the Choosing of
Paths, and yet so few did. Twelve years were children supposed to study their faith, two years for each god, it was said, but very few did. After all, in the first many years the children could only learn the very basics, and catechism itself only lasted the last two years of that process. Few children even thought about the subject before that point. Actually, few children thought about the subject at all, even when they were choosing their faith.

  Hyte said, “No, you do not choose between the Virtues. You try to maintain all of the Virtues. What you do in choosing is deciding how you wish to live your life. If you choose Ignar, you still must seek goodness in your own actions, as Flarow advocates, but you make it your primary concern to seek Justice. By specializing in a Virtue, you become a greater representative for the god. Meanwhile, others will concentrate on other Virtues, and together you create a better world.”

  “Okay,” said Ayrim, but he still frowned.

  “Was there something else?”

  “You follow Flarow, but you are a Thane.”

  “Yes.”

  “But shouldn’t you follow Ignar?”

  “Most Thanes do, you are right. But I did not become a Thane for Justice alone, even though I hold Justice dear to me. I became a Thane because I wanted to dedicate my life to service, in order to better myself. I was talented with the sword, and I knew that the best way I could serve was as a Thane. In this position, I am able to practice great Virtue. In fighting do I deliver Ignar’s Justice; in protecting the city, I serve Whesler and Charity. But also do I cleanse myself, and become closer to the gods. In that way am I a Flaran.”

  The next question was slow in coming, but it came. “Do you want me to follow Flarow too?”

  Gerill smiled, for part of him was glad that the boy wished to please him, but he said, “No, son, I wish you to follow whichever you wish. If you strive for the good that exists in the gods, then we will be brothers under them, and I will be very proud of you.”

  “Okay.” A smile lit up his face, and Gerill embraced him. The Thane had never married, but he had never found need to, even though with his wealth and position a wife would not have been hard to find. But there was no desire in him for marriage, for his life had been completed by his work and his son.

  “Do you have one in mind, Ayrim?” he asked.

  “No, not yet. But I . . .”

  He was interrupted by a voice behind him, which said, “Master Hyte.” The two turned to the newcomer, who was a young Thane. The boy was promising enough, but rather timid. “Um, sir, Baron Verios sends for you and Master Ayrim.”

  “We will come,” said the older Thane. “Did he say why he has sent for us?”

  “No, but the Prophet of the Living is with him.”

  Gerill was stunned, and his eyes seemed to grow as large as Ayrim’s. Even he, a Thane, had only seen two Prophets in his life, so rare were they so far east. “Did you say that Serren’s Prophet is here?”

  “Yes, and the Prophet wishes to see Ayrim.”

  Chapter 2

  The Prophet of the Living was a large fellow, red in the face and sweating under the late summer sun, even though he was inside. His smile was sunken into his face, but jovial and inviting. He was at one of the tables in the keep’s hall, sitting on the bench and flanked by three children. Gerill recognized them. They were each exactly Ayrim’s age, to the day. They had taken refuge in the city during the Battle of the Osilar Young, and had thankfully survived. The Wizard was chuckling, performing little tricks for the children and telling jokes. No real Magic did he use, this performance was made of mere illusion, yet still the man was pretty good at the show, infectious in his gladness, and the boys certainly enjoyed his efforts. Gerill sent Ayrim to join the group, which he did happily.

  The Baron was upon his dais, regarding the Mage suspiciously. Gerill Hyte joined his master.

  “I sent for a Prophet just after the battle,” said the nobleman, not without some fire in his tone. “Eleven years, each year I send another message to the Tower. Finally someone comes, and he won’t even speak to me until he has seen the children. King Trosalan himself does not treat me like this.”

  “The Prophets care little for nobility and wealth,” Gerill said.

  “No,” agreed the Baron. “I knew that one would not come unless it was in his interest, and yet this is my city, and he might have done me a courtesy by answering my questions while we were waiting for the boys to arrive. It would have kept him from nothing.”

  “He still may.”

  “Is this all of them?” asked the Prophet finally, looking up with a silly smile on his face. He was almost a child himself, as joyful and awed as Ayrim.

  “It is.”

  “Oh, that is too bad,” he said. “I tested each while we spoke. The new Prophets are not here.”

  “They have all been tested before when Prophet Santon Drynor came through the area.”

  “Were you present at each?” The question was drowning in condescension, but it was the first and last time the Mage was anything but polite.

  “No,” said the Baron, “only one was born in Saparen, and so I only witnessed that test. The others came here when the Tower refused to help us against the ern.”

  “Ho, ho!” laughed the man, accepting the retort graciously. “But you are right. I would have liked to fight with the people, I assure you, my lord. I fear I could not. We were desperate to find the two new Prophets, and we had a limited time to do it.”

  “And by testing them today, I assume that you still haven’t finished your search.”

  “We have not, which is why we are returned to towns we have already visited. We thought that perhaps the parents of the true Prophets might have passed their children off as having already failed the test to protect them.”

  “What if the Prophets were killed in an ern attack? Then the new Prophets would not have been born on the eighth day of Osilar in the year 8704.”

  “Quite true, sire,” said the Wizard, and it was obvious that he had considered the question long. “But we cannot test everyone under twelve in years. There are too many of them. So, if that theory proves true, we must wait until the power reveals itself in them to know. It would manifest itself likely before the boy is ten in years, or perhaps a little later. Oh, but forgive me, sire, but I have not even introduced myself. You know me to be the Prophet of the Living, and my name is Fareth Miln.”

  “You honor us, Prophet Miln,” Dravin Verios nodded, though Gerill could not tell how genuine his words were. “The Tower must be quite chaotic right now. Twelve years is a long time to be looking for a Prophet, much less two.”

  “Quite right, sire,” Miln said. “Ho, ho, I have not even been to the Tower in this time, though I hope to return soon. I have been very weary, you see. It took the Tower ten years to find Draughton Xyn, but I was younger then, much more accommodated to the road. They actually found me in three months, can you imagine that? Ho, ho!”

  The Baron smiled, trying to dislike the man, but finally failing miserably. Still he asked, “You know about the battle fought here?”

  “I have heard of it. An impressive victory, yes, but a costly one. I was very glad to see how well the city has been reconstructed.”

  “Thank you, we have worked very hard to rebuild our homes. But you must know then that the enemy, even some of the ern, used Magic against us.”

  For the first time, Fareth Miln grew quiet. “So has been said, but rumors only, I hope?”

  “No. I witnessed it myself. I have also heard that some with the power remain in Aeresan.”

  “Dark tidings, indeed. You wish to know how such a thing might have been achieved?”

  “I do.”

  “The shorter answer is that I do not know. The longer answer is that I haven’t the slightest idea, for a thing should be impossible. I do not know of this ever happening before, but I am not Santon Drynor, and I know too little history. Still, when I return t
o the Tower, I will search our libraries. I hear that Saparen’s Tianans have quite a library as well.”

  “Once. Most of it was burned in the battle. Tianon’s Priests have searched what remains thoroughly.”

  “A shame, a shame. A wall may be rebuilt, no? But life and knowledge are finite. There once were so many books, and we are desperately copying, and yet we are losing ground. That you have a wooden wall instead of a stone one reveals how wars may take from us understanding, yes?”

  “I quite agree.”

  The Prophet put his palms together and pushed his hands against his mouth in thought. “Still, it is not good that the Absence can draw such power in Invocations. Vid should not have such strength, unless he has grown in his Magic somehow. And yet Draughton has said nothing to us, and he would know if Vid were suddenly so much more powerful.”

  “Unless he is against you,” said the Baron.

  “Yes,” and the word was said with great meaning. “It has always been a difficult relationship between the Prophets of the Six and the Prophet of the Absence, and yet he is part of the Tower. I fear I can give you no answers yet, Baron Verios. And yet I will return to the Tower. Yes, yes, I will go back. This might just be more important than the search for the new Prophets.”

  “Please let me know what you find.”

  “I will, my lord,” said the Prophet, brightened again. “Ho, ho, I will spend the rest of the day at Serren’s Temple if you have need of me. Send the wounded and ill to me, and I will do what I can while I remain in town.”

  With a slight bow, the Prophet of the Living turned away from the throne and, with another quick illusion for the children, in which he turned a silver coin into a gold one, he left the keep, humming a spirited tune as he went.