by Aaron Oster
SILVERSPEAR
Rise To Omniscience
Book Six
AARON OSTER
To my grandparents, for allowing me to write this book in their house.
Moo!
Prologue
Black clouds danced across the surface of the slowly rotating planet, swirling and twisting into chaotic patterns. Clouds of the opposite color clashed with the black ones, creating thunderheads and causing brief flashes of light to illuminate the empty void of open space. Stars of all shapes and sizes shimmered and twinkled in the distance, and the light of distant solar systems stood out in small clusters.
Seemingly out of place in all of this were the table and two chairs floating high above the surface of said planet. Stranger still were the two nearly identical figures sitting on either side, playing a game that the people of a distant planet called Earth would call chess.
Most people wouldn’t look twice at the two men so engaged in their game, as their appearances were wholly unremarkable. They were of average height, had plain features, and were a bit overweight. The only difference between the two was the color of their hair and short beards. While one sported brown hair and an orange beard, the other had orange hair and a brown beard.
Odd wrappers floated on and around their table, littering the empty space in a veritable kaleidoscope of color. Still, neither of the men paid them any mind, continuously opening the packages, consuming their contents, and discarding them, all while remaining focused on their game.
The man with the orange beard moved his rook forward, placing the other’s king in check. The man with the brown beard moved his queen into place, blocking the rook’s path and simultaneously placing his opponent’s king in check. The game proceeded in utter silence until both only had their kings remaining and ran out their time.
“Looks like another draw,” Chaos said, nose wrinkling in distaste.
“What did you expect?” Order asked, dropping yet another wrapper into the open air.
“How many does this make now?” Chaos wondered, tilting his chair back and chomping down on a white bar of chocolate.
“Four million, six-hundred-fifteen-thousand and three,” Order replied, biting into a bar of brown chocolate.
The two halves that made up the Author, supreme ruler of the multiverse, were opposite in every conceivable way. So, if one liked milk chocolate, the other would like white. One liked caffeinated coffee and the other decaf. In Order’s opinion, Chaos always seemed to take the least-liked version of everything there was. Who in their right minds enjoyed plain carbonated water over soda?
He may even have considered it blasphemy, were they not technically the same person. Besides, they literally did not answer to any higher power.
Order glanced down, noting that the clouds, though seemingly chaotic, still maintained the careful balance he so dearly desired. True, Chaos had broken free and was now openly battling him, but they currently remained in a stalemate, which to him, was perfectly acceptable.
“Should we go again?” Chaos asked, tilting back even more.
“What’s the point? We’ll only end up in another draw.”
So long as balance remained, they would continue ending in a stalemate, no matter what they did. It was just the way things were. So long as there was balance, neither of them could win, and neither of them could lose.
“You got a better idea?” Chaos asked, producing a mug of warm and froth-less beer and taking a small, slow sip.
Order wanted to gag, knowing this was only done to annoy him. Still, it was better than continuously slamming their wills against one another. This was far less painful, and at least a little entertaining. The board reset itself, all pieces appearing once more, Order making the opening move.
“Seems like all your pieces have come together,” he commented.
“Yours as well,” Chaos replied, mimicking the opening move.
“It won’t be long now,” Order said, moving another pawn forward.
“Few weeks at most,” Chaos agreed, once more mimicking the move.
Five more minutes saw them draw once again, and this time, neither of them wanted to keep going. Chess was good and all, and both of them appreciated the significance and symbolism, but playing the same game for two years straight started to become boring, even for them.
“Feel like playing a videogame instead?” Chaos asked.
Order never agreed with the other half of his being, simply on principle, but he decided that for once, he was in complete agreement.
“Why not?” Order said, munching down on another chocolate bar. “Beats the hell out of playing another round of this crap.”
***
Far to the east of what the Five Kingdoms called the East Kingdom, past sprawling forests and vast mountains, stood a magnificent clearing, comprised entirely of multicolored stone. It was wholly unique, even in this part of the world, as it stood on a convergence point, an area where all five territories of the eastern continent, also known as Faeland, bordered. It was here that the leaders of these five territories came to meet whenever there was a crisis.
The last time a meeting had been called had been well over a millennium prior, when a rampaging Pinnacle beast had forced them to join forces to overcome. For the most part, the five major races of Faeland – the dwarves, trolls, beastmen, gnomes, and elves – kept to themselves, preferring to mind their own business. However, just a few months prior, each of the current rulers had received a summons, one that could not be ignored.
Elyssa, the current ruler of the elven nation, was far from happy. The last thing she had wanted to do was travel thousands of miles just to answer a summons. Still, when a Pantheon demanded your presence, you did as you were told. Only an idiot would ignore a summons like that. That didn’t mean she had to be happy about it, though, and she made sure that everyone around her knew as much.
“I still don’t see why they couldn’t have come to us separately,” she whined. “They’re gods, after all, so why not just travel to us?”
Her guards, long used to the young queen’s complaining, knew better than to reply. That job remained the responsibility of Gilderon, her personal aide and chief warrior.
“The ways of gods have always been mysterious to us, Your Majesty,” Gilderon said, his deep voice smooth and sure. “We come here so we may continue living our lives peacefully, without their interference.”
“Sure seems like they’re interfering now,” Elyssa huffed, tossing her long mane of silvery-blue hair over her shoulder.
Though Gilderon didn’t so much as twitch, inwardly, he let out a long sigh of exasperation. Elyssa had only taken over as queen a few months ago, after her father, the king, had an unfortunate and fatal encounter with one of the World Beasts. If Gilderon had had any illusions that becoming queen would change her attitude, he’d have been sorely disappointed. Luckily for him, he knew better, as he’d been the queen’s aide since her birth sixteen years ago.
Elyssa was oddly tall for an elf. Standing at just under five feet tall, her body was slim and petite, in the way of their kind. Her facial features were sharp, her brows slanted, and her ears swept up into graceful points. Her eyes were large and expressive, a shade of purple so light that one might think they were almost colorless.
She was beautiful, even by the standards of their kind. They were the most beautiful of all races — at least, in the elves’ opinion. Gilderon truly believed a ruler should always be physically superior to their underlings, so the queen’s beauty was to be expected. As Elyssa continued with her whiny rant, she made it abundantly clear how she’d driven off every single suitor brought before her. No one could stand
being in her presence for more than a few minutes, stunning looks or not, which was a problem.
Without an heir, their kingdom would be weakened and open to the other nobility to try and pull something underhanded. Of course, Elyssa wouldn’t be an easy target under the best of circumstances. As the heir to the throne, she’d been lavished with beast cores from a young age and had grown powerful enough to fend off an army. Still, the people among the nobility were powerful, so tempering her attitude and finding her a suitable king would be Gilderon’s top priority once this council meeting had concluded.
“Ah, I believe I can see the forest opening up ahead,” Gilderon said, cutting Elyssa’s complaining off mid-sentence.
“Finally!” Elyssa said with an eye-roll. “We’ve been walking for hours!”
“We’ll have the portal set up here once the meeting concludes so we can head straight back to your palace,” Gilderon said, moving aside the last of the brush and allowing his charge to head into the open clearing.
They’d been forced to portal into an old outpost some five miles away, as no one had needed to use one to get here in so long. The portal that had been set up on the convergence point itself had become inactive, and so, walking had been necessary.
“Ho there! Looks like you’ve finally arrived!”
Gilderon turned, his eyes sweeping over the rainbow-colored stone blocks, to the five gazebos set in a half-circle on one side. Each of these were built to house one of the rulers while they were here. They were relatively simple constructs, made up of a roof to fend off the sun and a throne upon which a ruler could sit.
One of these gazebos, specifically the one used by the dwarves, was already full. Sitting in the throne was a boulder of a man. Long black hair hung down from both his back and chest, the fine beard braided with glittering gems. His armor gleamed just as brightly against the sunlight. He needn’t have worn his full set here, but for some reason, dwarves seemed to like wearing armor wherever they went.
His face was craggy and rough, the skin a grayish blue beneath the hair. His eyes were small and black, and his nose was crooked from so many breaks that Gilderon was shocked that it was still attached to the man’s face. He was powerfully built, with knotted cords of muscle standing out all over his squat and bulky frame.
Though dwarves and elves tended to have around the same average height – four and a half feet for males, and four and a quarter for females – they could not have been more different. From their mannerisms to their way of life, they were opposite in every way. It was a complete shock that they even managed to get along with how different they were, yet the dwarves had been one of their staunchest allies for years. In fact, back when war had been a regular occurrence in Faeland, back in the days of the simian scourge, the dwarves had been the first to join with them in driving off their most hated enemy.
“King Ragnar, it is good to see you in such fine health,” Gilderon said, approaching the man and bowing slightly at the waist.
“Shove off with the flowery pleasantries, ya ninny! Greet me like a man!” Ragnar barked, grinning widely.
“Do you really have to do this every time, Uncle Ragnar?” Elyssa asked, strutting into the clearing and brushing leaves and twigs from her elegant gown.
“It’s tradition, lass,” Ragnar said, his voice affecting an almost hushed whisper.
“What the big lug means to say is that he gets his kicks from ringing the git’s gong!”
This was said by a dwarf that appeared far younger, though no less muscular. This was the king’s son, Hackvar, and the current crown prince of the dwarven nation as a whole.
“Men,” Elyssa said, making a disgusted sound. “Do whatever you have to. Just don’t come back until you’re clean. I can’t have this dress be any dirtier than it already is.”
Gilderon sighed as Elyssa stalked off, still brushing leaves from her skirts as she headed for her assigned pavilion.
“Is this really necessary, King Ragnar?” Gilderon asked as he turned back to the dwarf king.
“You’re not gonna back out now, are ye?” Ragnar asked, his eyes going wide. “After all, you’ve got such a big audience all waiting to watch ye sissy out!”
That much was true. A dozen dwarves, Hackvar included, were all clustered around their king, eagerly awaiting what was to come.
“Very well,” Gilderon said with a sigh. “I suppose it is custom. Just please, try not to break anything this time.”
Ragnar’s face split into a wide grin, and he slammed one oversized fist into the other. The sound of popping knuckles echoed audibly in the open clearing, immediately drawing every eye to see what was about to happen.
“I make no promises.”
***
Elyssa watched Gilderon wince, the massive lump on his forehead all but visibly throbbing under his sweeping helm. The dwarves ‘greeting’ consisted of the two rulers exchanging blows to signify mutual friendship or some shit like that. Seeing as Elyssa was underage by dwarven standards, it fell to Gilderon to take the blow in her place, not that she’d have taken the punch even if she were already seventeen.
Uncle Ragnar wasn’t really a blood relative, but their families had been close, and it was his displeasure, along with Gilderon’s fame, that kept most of the jackals at bay. She knew they were secretly trying to marry her off, so she’d done all she could to drive her suitors away. In her mind, she was still too young to be married, and besides, none of the elven men really met her needs.
She just didn’t find them all that attractive. Dwarves were interesting, if a bit smelly, but their beards were just a complete turn-off. It wasn’t that she was averse to facial hair; it was just the sheer quantity that the dwarves seemed to have.
Her eyes flicked to the other rulers now gathered here. There was Tork, the current king of the trolls. He was massive, over eight feet tall, greenish-brown skin leathery and taut over his gigantic frame. His features were brutal. His nose was wide and flat, and a pair of tusks peeked from his bottom lip. He was dressed in fine robes, and the massive war club he’d used to win his title of chief was currently being held by his wife, Limma.
The trolls were some of the finest weavers in all of Faeland, despite their brutish appearance, rivaling even the work of the gnomes.
Her eyes traveled to the gnome pavilion, where five stuffy old figures sat in matching thrones. The gnomes, unlike the other races, were ruled by a council, rather than a single ruler. They were elected by a faction inside their society, and each one spoke as a representative for their faction. She wasn’t too well versed in their law, though Gilderon had been forcing her to learn more about them since her father’s demise.
Gnomes were an interesting looking people. They were lanky and thin, with long, hooked noses and small white beards. Their beards were always white, no matter the age, which was what Elyssa found to be most odd about them. They were mostly scholars, though they had their fair share of warriors. Their close relationship with the beastmen kept them more than safe from wild beast attacks and wandering vagabonds.
And that drew her eyes to the last pavilion. Elyssa felt her heart rate pick up, just a bit, as her eyes alighted on Malachi, king of the beastmen. Now here was a specimen she could admire. He was tall, just over six feet, his grey-furred chest bare and rippling with muscle. His face was sharp and angular, containing a pair of golden eyes complete with slitted pupils. His face was mostly furless, his skin a light tan and clear of all blemishes.
A pair of tufted ears poked from the top of his shaggy mane of hair, and a bushy tail twitched ever so slightly behind his throne. If there was ever a man Elyssa wanted to have, it would be this one. Unfortunately for her, Malachi already had four wives, which seemed odd to her. In the beastmen tribes, though, many wives were not uncommon.
It sure is a real shame, she reflected, because he was the ideal man.
Another hiss of pain from Gilderon broke Elyssa from her daydreaming, something which she did not appreciate.
“If it hurts that much, then just take the damned thing off!” she hissed.
Before Gilderon could so much as move, there was a loud crack of thunder and the sunlight suddenly vanished. All of the rulers, Elyssa included, leaned forward, craning their eyes upward as dark clouds gathered. A chilly wind picked up, rustling her hair and sending the hem of her dress flapping.
Then, a tear opened in the world before them. This wasn’t the tear of a regular portal, that much was obvious. This portal buzzed with a foreign power, one that was immediately recognizable as belonging to the divine. Elyssa resisted the urge to shiver as a figure emerged from the open tear.
She looked so strange. Tall, athletic, with rounded facial features and slanted eyes. Her hair was a bright pink, which wasn’t so strange among the elves, but everything else about her was just foreign. She didn’t have any fur like the beastmen, yet she matched their females’ average height. Her features were smooth, like the elves, yet her ears were rounded, her eyes smaller, and bone structure less pronounced.
Before she could ask Gilderon if this was how the divine appeared, another figure emerged. This one was taller, her hair a bright golden blonde, and her proportions were, to be frank, simply outrageous. Elyssa had to wonder how anyone could even move, let alone fight, with breasts that large, when a third figure emerged.
She matched the first in proportion, though her hair was red, her skin pale, and her figure a lot less athletic. This woman moved away from the portal to stand with her compatriots as yet another figure stepped out from the portal.
This one was male, the first of his kind she’d seen. He had short black hair, bright silver eyes, and a self-assured smirk that made Elyssa’s recently settled nervousness reassert itself once again.
The portal remained open as he stepped forward, but no one else emerged from it. The three women stood back, seemingly content with allowing the man to do all the talking. Of the four, he looked to be the least intimidating. He was certainly the shortest of the bunch, standing maybe half a foot taller than her. Still, they were gods, and Elyssa knew not to judge them by their looks.
