The Eighth Power: Book I: The Book of the Living

by Paul Lytle

  And suddenly, the river seemed to dissolve below him and run dry. Great holes formed in the muddy ground between the smooth rocks of the stream. Even the air around Barrin seemed to thin, and his breaths had become heavy.

  No, this wasn’t Earth Magic, he realized.

  It was the Magic of the Absence.

  Only the Absence could tear apart Earth, Wind, and Water. Only the Absence had such control over all the domains of the Gods.

  “Go!” rasped Barrin as he wedged Ayrim between his body and arms so he could hold the reins with both hands. The horse needed little encouragement. It too knew the cost of slowing in that moment. It climbed the opposite bank and sprinted forward again, panting all the way. Likewise did the ern come, all five on the opposite side the stream, each keeping pace against the two Iylins. Barrin watched them for a while, but then turned his eyes again forward.

  There was the bridge!

  Even the horse seemed encouraged, and it lowered its head and ran for the stone structure, spending his last energy reserve on this final charge. The ern saw it too, and three of them crossed the river to get behind the fleeing farmer. Just a few yards back they were, hardly farther than a sword can reach.

  There were two archers upon the bridge, and they saw the horsemen coming. It was easy to see that someone was being pursued, but it was only after the horses grew nearer that they saw it was ern that chased the lone human. Their arrows were nocked only a moment later, and they waited for a clear shot. As the dark foes approached, each archer let loose of his missile, one a moment after the other. The Baron’s archers were trained well; the sound of running horses drowned out the twin thumps of arrows striking flesh.

  The two on the far side were ones to fall, each struck in the chest by an arrow, but Barrin knew that he himself prevented the other three from being slain, for he rode within the line of fire. He saw the archers train their arrows at the ern, but they held back their attack for fear that they would slay the very man they sought to save.

  And still the ern were catching up.

  Barrin Iylin decided that some sort of desperate maneuver was needed, and so he turned his horse suddenly to the left, away from the river. It was all the archers needed. One of the ern got both arrows – one in the shoulder and another in the throat – and the beast fell dead upon the cool grass. There were only two remaining.

  Saparen was built less than a quarter mile from the bridge, high on the hill that sat against the Tarrit Lake. Barrin could see the wooden walls of the castle even then, and he began the long climb up the hill toward the gate. The ern followed closely, and though Iylin’s turn had given him a little more distance, the enemy was making up for the lost time.

  Though they had no horses to follow, there was opportunity for the archers to attack once more, and they did, firing their arrows up the hill and toward the ern. The first slipped into the grass beneath the horse and was trampled, but the second struck an ern in the back. Even if it didn’t kill the thing, it stopped it, for the ern tumbled into the grass, and its horse turned away from the pursuit.

  One remained, and Barrin rode hard toward that gate, seeing and thinking about nothing else. The wailing of his young son could not be heeded, and little could he do even if he wanted to. They had to get to safety, and then he would tend to the child.

  The hill leveled off, and Barrin was merely a couple of score yards from the gate. Spearmen stood at the entrance, and they readied themselves when came the two members of the chase. “Help!” cried Barrin, but still he rode. There was little need for the cry, for anyone could see what was happening. The ern was upon him, and it swung its sword across in a wild slash. Iylin felt the wind of the weapon upon his neck, but it didn’t connect. The ern kicked his horse faster, and soon it was within range. Again it raised its sword, preparing to at last slay the farmer.

  Iylin ducked down desperately as his horse crossed the line of spearmen. They let him by unharmed, but against the ern they charged. Three spears impaled the beast, suspending it in the air just before the gate, even as its horse crossed the gate and continued its pursuit into the town.

  Chapter 17

  The Holy Texts, in The Book of the Living, tell of a message sent by Vid to the gods. In those days, the land was united under the gods, and they controlled everything. There was much happiness and wealth, and those were enjoyed by all men, and they were content. Yet there was a new presence upon the world, called the Absence, and Vid had emerged from the Absence, and he became the Absence, though the gods could never find him, as he was always where the gods were not.

  But Vid sent a messenger to the gods, and in his missive did he threaten to destroy what the gods had built. The Six laughed, but in time, they found their people growing more distant from their creators. Vid had gone amongst the people and influenced them to hide their activities from the gods, and in doing so would they enter the Absence. “Simply take what you wish,” said Vid to them, “so long as you do it whilst the gods look elsewhere. Slay your enemies, and steal from them, for the Six will never know, and you will be happier.”

  And many of the people were influenced, and they began to steal and lie and murder. Since there were no kingdoms then (for the Six ruled directly), many escaped from punishment, for the gods did not see them.

  The gods went unto the people to unite them once again, but it was too late. The people questioned what the gods had ever done for them, for Vid was giving them wonderful gifts to better their lives, and the gods would only give rules. They cursed the deities for enslaving them, while Vid sought to free them, for this is what the Absence taught.

  The murders and deceptions spread, and soon great wars were being waged, and even from their home in the western mountains could the gods hear Vid’s laughter. He had surely torn apart the paradise that the gods had created.

  Once again did the six deities go amongst the people, and again they plead for peace, and yet they would not be heard, and they returned to their home in the heavens defeated.

  At last, the goddess Serren went unto a field where a great battle was being fought, and there she stood between two advancing armies, and would not be moved. For a while the armies waited, hoping that she would get bored and leave them alone, but she would not. At last the armies grew weary of waiting, and they advanced against each other, no matter if Serren was there or not. They fired their arrows at one another, but Serren took the arrows unto herself, and a thousand times was she struck. Without a whimper, the goddess fell in pain, and armies came to her in remorse, and there they witnessed her death.

  The eyes of the people were opened, and they realized suddenly how good the gods had been to them. The gods did not wish slaves, for no master would destroy himself for a slave, as Serren had done for the people. They went home and stopped their wars, and the worship of the gods was renewed.

  But Serren remained in death. Into the Otherworld did the other gods chase her, but she would not leave, for she said that it was right that she should die, for why else might it have happened? For several months they argued with her, and in that time was the world neglected, and it became cold and dark. But it was Tianon that finally coaxed Serren out, for he argued that, yes, it was right for her to die, and such glory was wrought from her death, but it was also right for her to be born once more, for why else would she have the power to leave the Otherworld? Both death and life could exist together for her.

  And such was the reason that the Goddess of Life would take the souls of the dead into the Otherworld, and for her to make that place her own, and a thousand thousand times has she crossed into the Otherworld since that first time, and returned each time also. But it is also the reason that she has made the Otherworld a mere waiting place, for she knows that there will come a time when the gods have the power to bring the people out again.

  And so Serren agreed to return after her death, and the gods came out of the Otherworld together. Upon their return, they r
evitalized the land, which had grown cold and desolate in their long absence. Yet they did not want the people to forget their newfound faith, and so they continue to plunge the world into Winter every year as a reminder of Serren’s sacrifice.

  So say the Holy Texts.

  Chapter 18

  Remnants of a stone castle could be found within Saparen, and yet none living, not even the dragons, could remember when that stone structure stood intact. The ancient wall and keep had been built in a forgotten past, and had, over the centuries, been worn away by war and time until it became a loose line of toppled stones and the empty shell of a tower. The newer wall was wooden, but sturdy enough, and the keep, though stone, was considerably smaller than the ruined one had been. The modern engineers simply did not know how to make a sturdy stone wall or large building any longer. They could do it with smaller structures, but building something too large would just guarantee that it would topple over time. That art seemed to have been forever lost, though several still sought to revive it, including the King.

  Yet small parts could still be used, and were by Baron Dravor Verios. That hollowed shell that had once been a tower remained by Lake Tarrit, and inside that shell did the archers watch the body of water, for the ern had boats, and would use them to get near to Saparen if the lake were left unguarded.

  In addition to the ruined tower, the bridge had also been left over from the lost past, for it was small enough for the stone masons in the age of the Trosalan family’s rule to repair adequately. They no longer understood how to create a stone bridge over a great river, but a small one over a small stream such as the Tarmine was within their understanding, and so they had kept it standing over several thousands of years.

  What remained of the town was mostly built of wood, even the Temples and barracks. Part of an ancient temple remained on the north side of the town, but any hint as to which god had been worshiped there had been weathered away. Priests of each faith sometimes claimed it, but in taunts and jokes only, for none had strong enough evidence to actually believe one thing or another about the building.

  Barrin Iylin glanced over the town briefly before he dismounted, but only enough to get a vague impression of the gate area. His legs were so sore and weary that they buckled when the pressure was placed upon them, and the farmer slipped to his knees. Ayrim was crying, and the sounds attracted the attention of even those who did not witness the dramatic chase and escape a few moments before. “Hush, now,” said Barrin, rocking his son. “It’s over. We have made it.”

  Thanes were around him quickly, as well as the spearmen from the gate and a few of the archers. The Baron’s army was large compared to others in the area, and equally divided amongst the three classes, though only the Thanes left the castle at times of peace. Yet many were there on that day, and they huddled around the farmer, amazed at what they had just seen.

  “Take the horse, give it food and water and rest,” said one of the Thanes to a spearman. The soldier did as he was ordered, and the steed went along happily enough, as though he too knew that his journey was over. The Thane, a hard man of great stature, knelt beside Barrin. His wild blond hair was long, but tied back, and his beard was cut close to his cheeks. His face was lined, but not of age, but experience, which does not necessarily coexist, though often does. As for age, he might have been thirty in years, or maybe a score only, but it was difficult to tell. He put his hand upon Iylin compassionately, and he said, “The ern are not easily outrun. It was good that you came here. My name is Gerill Hyte. Do you need Healing? Two Priests of Serren have we here, and both skilled in Invocation.”

  “No,” Barrin coughed. “But my son, he might have been injured.”

  Again the Thane turned away, saying, “Request help of the Serrenites.” And then to Iylin he continued, “We will take you into Whesler’s Den. The people at the Whispering Wind will give you a room cheaply, or for labor, if you brought no coin.”

  “I have money enough,” Barrin said as he stood. He had not been to Saparen often, but had made the journey enough to know what inns charged for a night’s rest, and he had that much in coin, if little more. Gerill Hyte helped the farmer walk, and together they moved down the street into the Market, which was an open courtyard filled by the tents of traders and merchants. It was the most crowded area of the town, sitting at the peak of Saparen’s hill, but spacious enough, and the two were able to cross without incident.

  Though the market was technically outside any of the six city dens, it was generally considered part of Tianon’s domain, not only because the tall Temple of the Earth God overlooked the square, but also because the deity’s underlying greed. That was tradition only, for truly no den had jurisdiction over the market, and Tianon’s area laid northeast. Within that den were the barracks for the spearmen and archers, even though warriors tended to be Ignists rather than Tianans.

  The two turned left into the western burrow, which was claimed by Whesler. The people of the den were the most generous, and beggars crowded the streets to take advantage of that characteristic. To the south stood the keep, the stone structure, inside an empty yard that took up nearly a fourth of the town. Beside the ancient stone temple and the market, it was the only area that none of the six faiths could not rightfully claim, though the Baron himself devoutly followed Ignar.

  The dens had not been planned, of course, but the followers of the six gods built their Temples in different areas of the town. As it happened, the faithful of a church tended to build their own homes near their temple, while the lazy who had already made their homes in an area decided to follow the nearest god to them. So the dens were eventually formed, almost six separate cities inside the one, for the personalities and customs differed greatly between the faiths. Over time, the Priests began to wield more influence over their individual dens, and the distinctions became more formalized than ever. You could live in a den without belonging to that faith, but you would have to come before the Priests before opening a shop there, and you would find it difficult to convince them to allow you to use the space when one of their own parishioners could have it.

  Which is why, though the inn was certainly not the closest to the gate, Gerill Hyte took Barrin Iylin to the Whispering Wind. The people of Whesler were by far the most generous, and they might even refuse payment for the room after hearing what the farmer had been through in the coming to Saparen.

  Thus did Gerill help the farmer into the large building. The common room was crowded and jovial, for it was dawning on the early evening, and most tradesmen had retired for the night, leaving work behind for a pint of ale and a song. But the innkeeper, a bald man, his face red with laughter, saw the Thane and greeted him at the door.

  “Welcome, Master Hyte,” said the man.

  “Greetings,” said the Thane, his eyes shifting about the patrons. “You’ve got a packed house tonight. I hope you have room for a man who just saved himself and his son from ern? They have chased him right into our gates.”

  “Ern?” said the man, almost disappointed that he had not heard that piece of gossip yet. “Yes, of course, I have the room. Take the first on the left.”

  “I thank you,” said the Thane. “A Priest of Serren will come behind us. Will you direct him to the room?”

  “I will.”

  With that, Gerill led Barrin up the stairs and into the small room. There was only enough room for the bed and a couple of chairs, but it was enough. Iylin, quite weary, laid his son onto the bed and then sat down wearily to rest. Ayrim seemed just as tired, for he was asleep quickly. Hyte sat, looking upon the simple farmer.

  “You came upon The Road to Saparen,” said Gerill, and Barrin nodded in response. “Did you, by chance, pass Lanshire?”

  Iylin didn’t open his eyes, but said, “I am, in fact, from Lanshire.”

  The Thane looked down. “I thought as much. You are Iylin, are you not?”

  That got the farmer’s attention. He sa
t up, concerned, his hand darting to the hilt of his sword. How did this Thane know of him, a lowly serf who hadn’t been to Saparen five times in his life?

  Gerill didn’t need the answer, but frowned when he saw that he had made Barrin nervous. “Peace, friend. I mean you no harm. We got a message from Lanshire by pigeon. We know about the attack.”

  “But some survived to send the message?”

  “Many did survive, but also did a very many died.”

  “Lord Draffor?”

  “He lives. He was badly wounded in the fight, but he will survive and be strong. Your Serrenite Priest, I have been told, tends to him, though the letter said little else.”

  Barrin relaxed and sat again. “I am glad to hear it. What of my neighbors?”

  “No others were mentioned one way or another. We’ll find out more in time.”

  Barrin sighed. “If you know of me,” he said, “then you know why the ern chased me.”

  “We do,” said the Thane, glancing to the child.

  “What will you do with me?”

  Gerill shrugged. “That is for the Baron to decide. But worry not, Iylin. He has helped others like your son. He will likely help you.”

  “Lord Draffor said as much.” But as he said the words, he shivered, remembering the Thane that had come to Lanshire. But he did not mention the man, for he did not know whether he could trust Gerill Hyte or not.

  “When you are strong enough, we will go to the Baron.”

  “Yes.”

  The Priest came, a man in his late twenties, nearly a dozen of which spent in the service of Serren. He was handsome enough, with dark hair and a well-rounded face, but Barrin didn’t really pay attention. He was too tired.