 
###  

### Book II

### The Book of the Earth

### Paul Lytle

#### Published by Rosland Press at Smashwords

#### Copyright 2013 Paul Lytle

####

#### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

# 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 to 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.

But the Baron was not so joyous, and he thought hard upon the conversation. Gerill himself didn't really like what he had heard that day either.

## Chapter 3

In times long past, the powers of the gods were spread out amongst many people. But though the Magic of each had since been concentrated into a Prophet, still some remained for others to use in small amounts.

The truly faithful of a god, usually Priests only (though others have been known to successfully draw from the power), could call upon the deity, or Invoke him. If deemed worthy, that person would possess a very small part of the god's power for a limited time, and that person could use the power in a way pleasing to the god.

In this way, Serren's Priests could cure the wounds of two or three people in a day, or Flarow's faithful could cause a rainstorm to water a parched field for a short time. Tianon granted command over the Earth, Ignar over Fire, and Tarite's Priests might raise a soulless skeleton, which were called undead, to do mindless chores or fight for a time.

The effects of these Invocations were quite minor, for little of the god's power in the world was not invested into his Prophet. Yet still might the Invocations help a community in a great way. A man might be Healed from an accidental wound if a Temple of Serren was near enough. A long drought might be broken by calling upon Flarow. And yet, the scores of wounded in a war would find little comfort in Invocations of Serren, and the droughts of the last many years could not be fully countered by the slight Magic of Flarow's Priests.

So too could a follower of the Absence call upon Vid, though there was not a formal faith of the Absence, and no true Priests (though there were leaders amongst them, and there was worship). It was much more difficult to Invoke the Absence, because in those cases there was a god countering the call instead of aiding it. But still could a successful Invocation disrupt the Elements. Life and Death were very difficult for Vid to overcome, for Serren and Tarite were the most powerful of the gods, being the creators of the other four, and so it was nearly impossible to slay a man by pure Invocation.

It was not faith in the Absence that brought about this power, but something very much like faith. It was more understanding and ambition and a rejection of the gods. But the Invoker did have a certain amount of faith, for he needed to think of Vid as the true god, while the other six were, to them, ancient usurpers. There were Unholy Texts for Vid as well (though they were difficult to find, even for his followers, and each copy seemed to vary in its teachings a great deal). Without a formal ecclesiastical structure, there was no way to construct basic tenants of a faith.

But the difficulty in Invoking the Absence was the reason for that the Battle of the Osilar Young was so worrisome. Such power was so uncommon that it bordered on impossibility, and yet it had been achieved by several men and even ern in the invading army. One possible reason for the change, and Gerill Hyte did not even like to entertain the possibility, was that Vid's power was growing, and becoming greater than all the six gods combined.

If that were true, the world might very well be torn apart under the strength of the Absence.

## Chapter 4

"What, yeh gonna sleep all day, are yeh?"

Jeslin shook the boy awake. Sleeping all day was quite impossible in the house of Master Gerill Hyte, almost as though the phrase was part of fairytale that Jeslin would tell in the mornings, but was never attainable. Even sleeping all night was forbidden, for before the sun appeared at the horizon, the middle-aged woman was at Ayrim's side, rousing him from his bed, usually muttering half-hearted complaints about the boy's laziness. She certainly didn't believe her own words, but it was her way. Ayrim, on the other hand, was often too tired to care.

"Wash your face before breakfast," the woman said, pouring water into his bedside bowl.

The morning was typical for the young man. He splashed water over his face and got dressed, and in a few minutes was at the table with Gerill and Jeslin. The woman servant wasn't an exceedingly good cook, but certainly better than average, and Master Hyte's money allowed them to enjoy cheeses quite often. In general, the young man had stumbled into a good life. Certainly other children were not pushed as hard, but neither did the other boys have such a soft bed and flavorful meals.

"Today is the last catechism, is it not?" asked the Thane between bites of food, though he did not lift his eyes at the inquiry. Ayrim merely nodded. Ignar's Day was the last lesson, the next day would be Vid's Day, and then on Sun Day, the day for all the gods together, he would have to Choose. It would be the first Sun Day of Autumn, the season of his birth.

Gerill took his son to Serren's Temple, even though it would make the Thane late for the prayer service at Flarow's. The temple of the Life Goddess had to be rebuilt after the battle a decade before, and it had been rebuilt well. The new building was the tallest in Saparen, having three stories, with a short spire atop the third, and two wings came forward, creating a courtyard before the gilded door. Such a courtyard was traditional for Temples in the area, and each of these courtyards would reveal something about the deity worshiped within the building. Serren's was a garden. Not often were grass and trees seen in Saparen, but before the door of that Temple was created a colorful field of trees and flowers with a winding dirt path that led to the entrance.

Prayers were beginning there as well, but the children avoided the sanctuary and went upstairs, to the library. Serrenites were not really researchers, and their old library had been destroyed in the fire, so few books or scrolls sat on the ample shelves. As it was in the sanctuary, a statue of Serren stood at the front of the room, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes cast upward.

Though the Temples taught catechism collectively, they rotated locations amongst the six buildings, each faith taking a group of children when that group began its education, and keeping them until the end of their catechism. When it came time for Ayrim to attend, it was the Temple of Serren's turn, and Ayrim was glad. He liked Father Rignslin Josite best of all the instructors, perhaps because, while other Temples sent young Priests, newly ordained, to teach, Father Josite was the High Priest at the Temple, and was quite knowledgeable. Perhaps it was the way he lured the answers from the children instead of lecturing them. Perhaps it was because Rignslin Josite had known Barrin Iylin, if only as acquaintances. True, Priests from all the dens came to speak, but it was Father Josite's Temple, he was almost always in the room with them, even if he was not teaching.

That day they attended their last class, and Josite would not teach it. Instead, a young and pale man from the Temple of Tarite, called Hesril, spoke. He was nervous, and tended to speak softly, staring down at his messy notes. It mattered little to a student such as Ayrim, but few others listened.

"Ah, in the Ending Battle," said the man. "Serren will, let's see, combine her powers with Tarite's, um, powers, combining life and, yes, death." He tended to repeat words over and over, whether because he thought a child's vocabulary too limited to understand more than a score words or because his own was that small, no one could tell. "For us, here, this will, uh, mean a new life, you see, but not like this one. Ah, this life will be one with, yes, death, and so you will have life, um, with its emotions and, uh, liveliness. But also death, you see, with the understanding and, um, knowledge that our physical, ah, world can give. It will be, will be a combining of the Otherworld and this, um, one."

"Will we be in the Otherworld?" Ayrim asked suddenly, and Father Josite grinned.

"N-no," said the Priest of Tarite. "You see, with the combined powers, um, of the Mother and, ah, Father, uh, they will drive the Absence from this world, you see, ending the battle and making this world, um, perfect again."

Rignslin Josite spoke up, saying, "The Otherworld is a waiting place that Serren created when the Absence tainted this world. But it is a world of spirit only, much as the world here has become overly physical. No longer could the living and dead be together, for the Absence caused ignorance in us, and no longer did the living understand the spirit nature of the dead, and no longer did the spirits respect the living. So in the Otherworld the spirits wait until the Absence is driven away, and then they will return, and the worlds will become one."

"Isn't death bad?" asked another child, and the Priest of Tarite cringed.

"Well I suppose it must be," Father Josite said with a grin, and the Tarist nearly fainted. "The Absence controls death, does he not?"

"No," the boy replied, laughing like Josite was an idiot.

"No? Then who does?"

"Tarite."

"No, it couldn't be. Tarite is a god, after all. Isn't he?"

"Yes."

"One of the six gods, possessing greatly one of the six Virtues, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, of Toil."

"Then are you telling me that one of the gods, a source of Virtue, can also rule a terribly evil thing as death?"

The boy was stumped, and Ayrim couldn't help but chuckle. He had understood the point of the questions from the beginning.

Josite said, "No?" He shrugged dramatically, and the children joined Ayrim's laughter. Not out of cruelty for the boy, but in appreciation of Father Josite. The Priest said, "You see, we think of death as bad because we do not understand it. But it is not so different than this life. In fact, it will be better. Here we find separation. Even though we are both body and spirit now, we often find war between our two parts. Our heart will desire something that our mind knows is wrong. Our spirit is sometimes willing where the body cannot keep up. But in the end, there will be reunion. In the Otherworld, in spirit, we will find those we love but have lost. There we will find the great heroes and kings, and talk to them about whatever you might wish. And then the battle against the Absence will end, and we will all return here, combined of life and death, body and spirit, and live forever."

## Chapter 5

After a hearty dinner, Gerill and Ayrim used the afternoon to ride out of the town to a farm a couple of miles north of the city, where a section of Gerill's land laid. A large peasant family farmed it rather successfully (by the standards of the day), and gave Hyte a reasonable share for use of the land, but it was here that the Thane taught his adopted son about the earth.

They would spend a small amount of time there almost daily, simply helping where they were able. The Thane did not wish Ayrim to apprentice there, after all, but merely learn the fundamentals of farming. The head of the family there would instruct Ayrim on various topics, from planting to repairing the till to insects. It was insects on that day, in fact, and the two spent a couple of hours pulling bugs and worms from the tomatoes. In the end, there wasn't much instruction that day, because Ayrim recognized the pests immediately, and told Gerill what needed to be done to correct the problem. The farmer nodded to confirm the course of action, and the three set off to work.

On these trips, Gerill always wore his sword, and asked that Ayrim do so as well. Also was he cautious about passing travelers, for the raiders might be hidden nearby. Ern might come from anywhere, and he knew that they were hunting boys like Ayrim. Most of the children born on that eighth day of Osilar did not leave the city at all for just that reason. The ern seemed to recognize them, or so it was said, as though the boys had been studied for years.

Since the battle against Saparen, the army of followers of the Absence had been reduced to only small bands of brigands. The King's war against Fahlin caused so many troops on each side to be massed upon the Last Stand that ern had hardly a chance to cross over into the eastern lands. They wouldn't get the opportunity once Regis Trosalan finally found victory (as it seemed he would be eventually, though the end might still be several years still), for the King of Aeresan vowed to stay at the three castles to be certain that another ern army could not sneak through. Such was the purpose of the invasion after all, and the King would not allow his kingdom to be overrun by the creatures.

But many ern were left, and many of the human Invokers, and more still came through the White Hills, so constant rumors of these raiders were bandied about the land. They would never attack towns directly, not again, but they would find children born on that special day, and then lie in hiding until that child left the comfort of a town and set off on a road somewhere. And then the attack would come, as would a testing for Magic (though still none could say how they could test without a Prophet with them always, as obviously they could), and a murder when that child was proven normal.

Yes, it was a great risk to bring Ayrim out to the farm, but Gerill was a Thane, and he was near to the castle. There would be little chance that the raiders could get them at the farm, yet still was he wary. Every sound would turn his attention away from the crops and to the surrounding land. His hand would wrap around the hilt of his blade, and he would watch. Never before had they been attacked in those fields, but Hyte knew well that _never before_ did not mean _never_. Too many people forgot that.

## Chapter 6

Dravin Verios was easily the most strong-willed child in Saparen, but then, his father, the Baron Dravor Verios, was likewise unyielding in his decisions and demands. But with the elder, there was a general consistency toward the good, while the younger was more apt to go where his emotions swayed him at any given moment. Such was the nature of boys of eleven years, though, and the passion was likely to burn away with time.

The heir to the Barony looked remarkably like his father, which was probably for the best. This child, after all, would take over Saparen when Dravor died, and for a future Baron to be as frail and pale as the current Baroness would be a great embarrassment. Better to have a man of unquestioned physical strength and appeal, for such a man would more easily rally the people and army behind him. Of course, it was best of all for such a charismatic man to show great character, but great character alone would not be enough unless it was accompanied by great presence.

And if Dravin grew up in the image of his father, not only in appearance but in character and charisma alike, Saparen would continue under yet another just and strong Baron.

The boy with crimson hair stood in the grass in front of the keep, a heavy wooden practice sword dancing about him awkwardly. The fact that Dravin had so little trouble carrying the blade was impressive, but he was long from being able to control it well. Often in his quick motions brought the dull blade colliding onto his flesh. Wooden sword or no, the blows stung, but the boy would not be deterred, and, after a moment's yelp, he would continue on as he was. He never let the wounds stop him, not even if his clothing was dripping with blood.

As such did Gerill and young Ayrim find the Baron's son, practicing apart from the other children. Ayrim was younger by two years than most in the room, but Dravin was younger still, having been born more than a year after the Iylin child.

When the other students saw Gerill, they fell into a long line in the grass, each standing attentively with his wooden sword at his side. Dravin too moved into place, with Ayrim beside him.

"Begin the Exercises with the first," was all Gerill said, and he led them through a long series of slow but deliberate motions, designed to teach both the basic moves of swordplay and to allow the body to warm for more strenuous moves. These boys were squires or sons of soldiers, sent to that field within Saparen to learn the art of battle. Gerill taught the blade, while others of the Thanes gave lessons in different weapons and tactics. The new generation of warrior would learn the basics of each weapon and style before specializing in one or two, and each of these boys were in the final year of that initial training. Ayrim was there so early first because of his dedication to study and practice, but also because of his natural grace with the sword. He was born to wield a blade, Gerill knew. There was much that could be taught, but something of nature in swordplay too. Dravin was there because the Baron pushed the boy hard in matters of war and government. He wasn't truly worthy to be with the others quite yet, but practicing with stronger opponents was bettering the boy, and he far surpassed any other child of his age.

The Exercise took only five minutes, for it was the first of a hundred designed centuries before by a great swordsman. But only those specializing in swordplay would learn all, though any boy in that class could perform the first score flawlessly.

"What will you choose?" asked Dravin later, when he and Ayrim were dueling each other. The pace of these exhibitions was slow, for Gerill wanted the boys to concentrate on technique rather than speed. Once their technique was established, it would be difficult to change, the Thane often told them. Better to get the right style in the beginning, to save work, and perhaps lives, later.

"I don't know."

"You will be too good a warrior not to follow Ignar," said the Baron's son, his grin wide and toothy. "I want you a Thane, and Ignists make the best Thanes. Everyone knows that."

"Not always."

"Your father was an Ignist, wasn't he?"

"Gerill follows Flarow."

Dravin twisted a thrust into a high slash, but Ayrim turned around the blow and tapped the Baron's son lightly on the hip with his own wooden sword. "Good," called out Gerill from a score yards away, and Dravin laughed and nodded in appreciation for the move. There was no jealously between the two, and each was quite willing to lose to a swift turn of the blade. After all, both had so far surpassed the boys of their own age that even standing there was a victory. Such victories were apt to be forgotten by children, but not that one. Sometimes the true honor of a situation could penetrate even the skull of a twelve-year-old. The two began again, a little more slowly, and Gerill had to turn away to tend to one of the others who had just been popped in the head by his opponent.

"I meant your father, who fought in the war."

Ayrim frowned. He had no memory of his father, and yet had collected some from the descriptions and tales of others. Gerill had known him, and the Baron, and Father Josite, but each only very briefly. He had even spoken to Lord Draffor from Lanshire once, when the minor noble was in Saparen to speak with Baron Verios over a matter of taxes and land. He had a basic idea of who his father was though those people, and what had happened to him. And yet the man was still a mystery to him. It saddened young Ayrim that Barrin remained so distant, for the farmer had given so much for his son.

In all, he missed his father, and that too was strange to him.

"No," Ayrim finally answered. "He was a Serrenite."

Dravin laughed, but then he realized that his friend wasn't meaning to be funny. "You're joking, of course," said the heir to Saparen.

"No."

Dravin Verios screwed up his face, saying, "But I heard that he killed fifty ern himself. Father told me about it. He was the last one on the wall."

"I don't think he killed fifty, but it is true that he was one of the last on the wall."

"No, father says fifty. Five of them after he lost his sword, and he had to break each one's neck with his bare hands. He was wounded by an arrow, but he tore the arrow out of his belly and stabbed one of the ern with it."

"I never heard that."

"Father says so. But a Serrenite wouldn't do that. They didn't even want to fight."

"My father fought, and he followed Serren."

The Baron's son sighed. "Just pick Ignar. It'll be easier on all of us."

Ayrim shrugged. "I might."

## Chapter 7

The knock on the door was faint, but there was nothing amiss with Rignslin Josite's ears, and he said, "Come in," without looking up from the ancient manuscript that had been carefully placed on his table. Every fourth word in the text was too faded to read, but some sections Father Josite understood, and he didn't like what he saw. The far past, about the time of the Great War (and "about the time of the Great War" meant within five centuries of the event, so long ago it was), had been a strange time, and much of the religious material that had survived spoke of other gods, or variations of the Six. Still, Rignslin liked to read these accounted for mere historical value before they were taken to Ignar's Temple for destruction. Those false religions didn't exist any longer. Four thousand years after the Great War, there was only the truth and the Absence. The choice, for Josite at least, was simple.

Strange that he would still struggle in his quest for Virtue if that choice was as simple as it seemed to be. But Vid was not always so obvious as he was in the tales penned for children, appearing as demons promising wealth and power, all the while with fire coming from his eyes. Sometimes, he merely planted a thought or an image, and that would be enough. Enough for the darkness of the heart to feast upon, and there certainly was a darkness to the heart – he knew that from years of experience. Josite read the works because he believed that he could learn about those lost days by understanding their beliefs, but he knew as well as anyone that such texts could be used by Vid as well.

And so the Priest never kept the documents, but forwarded every page to Ignar's Temple. It made him sad to do so, and yet he did it.

He didn't hear the door open, or Ayrim Iylin enter. In fact, he kept reading for several minutes until the boy cleared his throat, and the Priest turned to him. "Ah, Ayrim, it is good to see you."

"Do you have a moment, Father?" asked the boy.

"Of course," Rignslin said, covering up the ancient text and turning to the Iylin child. "Your questions in the catechism classes were good, and well thought out, Ayrim. I am sorry that our time in the classroom is over, for at times you had even me researching the Holy Texts for answers. It was good for me."

"Thank you, Father."

"Tomorrow is Sun Day. What will you choose, if you don't mind me asking?"

"That is why I came." Ayrim's words were timid, but he said them anyway. "I was hoping you would help me answer that."

"Ah, having trouble, are you? It is good that you think so seriously on this subject. You have heard the phrase, 'By the dirt the gods are birthed'?"

"Yes."

"But you don't know what it means?"

"No, I don't."

"It doesn't make sense in our understanding of the beginning of our world, for the gods were born of Tarite and Serren, who themselves were forever. Tianon, the dirt, came from the moon, or Tarite. So the idea that the gods were born of Tianon is ridiculous."

"That's what I thought."

"But do you think that the phrase refers to the literal birth of the gods? Is there not another birth?"

Ayrim thought for a moment, and said, "When we Choose, we are said to be born into a faith."

"Ah, yes, but that is not a literal birth. That is good, for at the time of the Choosing are the gods born as well, born within us when we Choose. Do you see how Tianon might be so very important in this birth?"

"In knowledge?"

"Yes, Ayrim, very good. It is only through knowledge of the gods, the Texts, and ourselves that we can truly Choose correctly. In this way, we must go to Tianon before we can reach the other gods. That is why we have children go through the catechism before the Choosing, and that is why we have the Choosing every season in Tianon's Temple."

"Do you?"

"Yes, tomorrow you will be taken there."

"Oh."

"But though the catechism tells you about the gods and the Texts, only you can become a teacher about yourself. We can guide, and instruct, but we cannot see your heart. I think that it is this area you find difficulty, for I know you to be quite knowledgeable of the gods. In that area you have no ignorance, and so your ignorance must lie in another area. I might be able to help you a little, though."

Ayrim grinned, saying, "Yes, thank you."

"Then tell me, Ayrim. Do you like to leave important matters in the hands of the gods, or to act upon those matters yourself?"

The boy thought, then said, "Maybe work myself."

"Then you lean toward Tarite over Serren."

Iylin was horrified, for though he understood the gods better than many, still he feared Tarite, like most others, but Josite chuckled, "Oh, don't worry, Ayrim. This does not mean that you must choose Tarite, or even should. But Tarite is a strong god, and it saddens me that so many people fear him because they fear death, when Serren has as much to do with death as Tarite. It is understandable, but sad. Superstition is so often born in the Temples themselves. But never mind. Let's go on."

The Priest asked, "How would you rather spend your time? Would you rather find understanding, or help others gain comfort?"

"Must I choose one?"

"In life, no. You should do both, for both are Virtues. But which gives you more pleasure?"

"Gaining understanding, I think."

"Tianon over Whesler. I have chosen the same answer to that question, which is why I spend all day in this dark room reading ancient texts." He rubbed his eyes at the thought. "The others say I will go blind reading so much, but I think it will be worth it, if only to learn something that no one remembers anymore.

"But I am distracted. Last question. How would you better the world, by encouraging others in the Virtues, or by focusing your energy into your own morality? Remember, I ask only which you prefer, for I hope you will do both."

"I think that if we all hold each other accountable, then the world would be very good," Ayrim said. "I think the first one – that I would encourage."

"Then Ignar over Flarow. You lean toward the male gods over the female ones. It is a sign that you might become a great warrior or scholar, for the male gods tend to be more active, if more neglecting of self-reflection and faith. The females are more faithful and generous, but they are sometimes passive."

Ayrim knew that much. Tianon was the great student, Tarite the hard worker, and Ignar the hand of Justice. Meanwhile, of the women, Serren's faith saturated all her actions and Whesler's generosity was unparalleled. Flarow might have seemed the exception, for she, unlike the other females, concentrated on herself, and yet it was often seen in a passive manner, for in her quest for perfect morality was she often engaged in meditation and prayer.

"So we have three gods left," Ayrim said.

"Not at all; you still have all six," Josite laughed. "Simply because you might lean one direction slightly does not mean you should dismiss the other gods. Seek all the Virtues, Ayrim, no matter what god you Choose. This exercise is merely designed to give you an understanding of where you might be called to serve amongst the Six."

"I see," Ayrim frowned.

"Meditate over this tonight," Father Josite suggested. "You will find your answer."

"I will, thank you." The boy started out of the room, but paused. He turned to the young Priest and asked, "If I do not pick Serren, Father, may I still come to talk sometimes?"

"At any time, Ayrim," said the Priest. "I would be disappointed if you didn't. There is much I can learn from you, and still a couple of things you might be able to learn from me." The man's smile was as bright as the candle on the table, and Ayrim nodded as he left, very glad that he had come.

## Chapter 8

That night, after Gerill was asleep, Ayrim was still at his father's desk, reading the account of the creation. It was here that the nature of each god was revealed most clearly, and it was here to which he looked for guidance. And yet his mind drifted, and he found himself only scanning most of the text without comprehending what he read. Prayer he tried next, and he prayed to each god in turn, but concentrated on Tianon.

And yet no answers would come.

He sighed in frustration. Why could he not focus that night, the most important night of his dozen years? Why did he not understand this, when he understood almost everything better than the others of his age?

By the dirt . . .

The moon was high, and a sliver short of full **,** and Last Day faded into the fifth day of Sepilar, a Sun Day, which was the first Sun Day of Autumn and the day of Choosing. It would only be a few more hours until the ceremony, and Ayrim would have to name someone. He would not be able to leave the Temple until he Chose.

One boy was there for three weeks, Ayrim had heard once. After three weeks without Choosing, he became so weary that he started seeing things, and thought that Serren appeared to him and told him that if it was so hard, just pick Vid, because even the gods were tired of waiting. Of course, it probably wasn't true, and it certainly wasn't really Serren even if it was true (perhaps Ignar, but never Serren), but the end of the story was that he picked Flarow because he hadn't been given enough water in that week, and he knew that he would be taken to the Temple of his choice after Choosing. When he reached Flarow's Temple, he leapt into the ponds in front of the building was immediately excommunicated, even before being inducted.

Ayrim laughed out loud, even in remembering. It was a humorous story, especially thinking about someone swimming in the pools of Flarow. Often did the children taunt each other to do exactly that, but none of them did, for it was a great crime, and the pools were watched over continually.

His laughter faded, and Ayrim stood up to walk. Beside the door his sword belt hung upon the wall, and he drew out his wooden sword and stepped out the door and into the street. He wasn't allowed to practice indoors, but he would be safe in that section of Ignar's Den. The soldiers on patrol knew him, and they would watch out of him.

He began the Exercises, performing the moves with no small amount of grace and skill. The sword was surprisingly cooperative that night, and, for the first time, Ayrim was using the blade by controlled instinct, not even having to think about his motions. The blade was an extension of the arm – perfectly still when the hand was still, and precise in its strikes when called upon to move. None his age had such control of a weapon, but it was only a foundation for the mastery yet to be learned.

As he worked, he explored his options. Ignar would be a fine choice, and well accepted by the Thanes and Dravin. He did wish to be a Thane like his father, so Ignar would be a natural choice. And yet, Gerill was not an Ignist, and he was one of the best Thanes in the Order.

Tianon was attractive too, for Ayrim so loved to read and study. He also enjoyed his work on the farm, and Tianon had no little effect over farming, and nor did Flarow's rain. Of course, even Ignar, when throwing the sun across the sky so that Serren might watch over the entire planet, had much to do with farming.

By the dirt . . .

He paused in his practice briefly, then renewed his efforts with a new intensity. It wasn't about which god ruled over which areas of life. It should be, Ayrim knew, about the Virtues. It did not matter that you worked with the Earth if you weren't interested in Knowledge. Nor would you pick Whesler for the wind, but because you were Charitable.

So what was Ayrim like, he wondered of himself? Hard-working, yes, even if the idea of being a Tarist caused the boy to shiver, no matter how often Father Josite defended the deity. It was natural; it was the way of the people to fear the Death God. Ayrim was a student, a warrior. He breathed deeply and swung his weapon around in a series of blocks and thrusts. He desired Justice, but also his own Morality. He wished to rely on gods and himself together. Not in separate areas, but as one. He wished to gain knowledge, but also be generous.

He wanted all the Virtues, and he thought them all about equal in importance.

And he realized that he had his answer.

## Chapter 9

The Temple of Tianon was lit only in candles, and the children wore clean white robes. Only the Head Priest of each Temple was present with the children in the room, for not even the parents were allowed to view these secret rites, save for the time that they themselves had taken part in them.

The Priests were already inside when those Choosing filed in, creating a long line in front of the altar, upon which sat a gilded hammer. The Priests wore white too, but each had a sash tied around his waist colored of his god's color. Only Father Josite totally matched the children, for he was in all white, robe and sash alike, as Serren was always pictured. Also did the Priests each have a book, branded with the symbols of the gods. These recorded the membership of each faith, and the children would be recorded as they Chose.

"You wear the color of Serren," said the Priest of Tianon, his belt brown, "because from the Goddess of the Living are you truly born. Tarite gives you your body, but from Serren are you given breath. As you come, you will take on a second color, the color your new faith adopted from its god. In death, your body will take on black, for Tarite's domain is all that remains here, but one day we will return to this world, and all colors will become one as light, and our Virtue will be perfected, for there will be no Absence. Before you stand the Priests of the gods. When your name is called, you will come to the Priest of your Chosen temple, and you will be accepted into that faith. But do not be consumed by one god, for all six Virtues are found in a virtuous person. Only those who accept all members of the Six will be welcomed into the Otherworld."

They began calling names in order according to age, even though all there had been born in the Autumn of 8704 (three of which, Ayrim included, were born on the eighth of Osilar), and the children came unto the Priests in turn. Approached in this manner, the Priest would tie a colored belt upon the child, and write his name into the book. Then the Chooser stepped behind the Priest. When the Choosing was over, the Priest would lead his new members to his Temple for a short welcome and prayer, and then they would be released.

Many that day took the white belt of Serren, for Father Josite was quite popular, even amongst those he had embarrassed with his questions. The others gained members about equally, except for Tarite, of course, yet still a handful of children acquired a black belt, probably because their parents belonged to that temple or because they thought themselves rebels of some sort. The parents were more often than not the cause of most of the Choices made that day, and not a true exploration of the gods themselves. Only a few children each year would go to a different faith than the one embraced by their parents.

"Ayrim Iylin," said the Priest of Tianon, and Ayrim stepped forward. His breath was caught in him, and he wondered if he should change his Choice. But no, he had gained an understanding of himself in the night, and he knew that he had found his place.

To the Priest he went, and upon him was tied a blue belt. In that moment, like Gerill Hyte had done many years before, Ayrim Iylin became a Flaran.

## Chapter 10

Ignar was the obvious choice for a warrior, as Ayrim desired to be, and yet so many of the great warriors had been followers of Flarow. Ayrim hadn't understood before, since Flarow was often criticized for being complacent, and, on occasion, cowardly, and yet it was true.

In the Great War, some historical texts tell of a man called Jurhist, or sometimes Jirhest (for records from that era were few and sometimes contradictory), who led a group of Flaran warriors in the west. So great was this band that its members were able to maintain order in the Forgotten Kingdom for some time, even while the rest of the world erupted in chaos. It was only after the Great Wars that the swordsman was at last defeated by the ern while he was defending a city from their attacks.

And then during the time of the elected Kings came a swordsman of such skill that he was considered the greatest that ever lived, and still no one has bested his legend. He was named Cynus Branford, and his book, _The Branford Method of Swordsmanship_ , was still employed by the best teachers of the art, including Gerill Hyte. It was he who created the methodic Exercises that dominated each of Ayrim's classes, one hundred individual series of moves. So meticulous was the man that he was sometimes believed to have been a Tianist, and yet his other writings proved that the man was a devout follower of Flarow, who was supposed to be a coward.

So many there were, and yet the one that convinced Ayrim had been Gerill Hyte himself, the Thane of Baron Dravor Verios. Never did Master Gerill shirk his responsibility, and never did he cower in the face of battle. Yes, warfare frightened him, as it frightened even the most loyal Ignists, but Gerill fought wherever battle was needed, and never did he even consider turning away for fear. He was the most brave man Ayrim knew. And a Flaran this brave man was.

And so, the night before the Choosing, when Ayrim thought over the Virtues and decided that he wanted all more or less equally, he began to understand why such brave men might worship Flarow. A coward Flarow was on occasion, and sometimes too worried over herself to act when she was needed, and yet she was dedicated in improving herself. Ayrim understood, for the first time in his life, what that meant. He wanted all Virtues because he wanted to make himself perfect, and he would work every moment of his life to strive for that perfection. It would not be possible in this life, of course, and yet it would be his goal.

Such was a true follower of Flarow – ever concerned about his own actions and abilities, ever concerned with his own Virtue. Tarists might work hard also, but for Flarans it was different. For Flarans it was ever an internal battle to overcome Vice and imperfection, to become as near to fully virtuous as a man might in this world.

Ayrim realized that he had but one choice that Sun Day. Only one goddess could understand the demands he made upon himself.

And thus did he make his choice.

## Chapter 11

The young Priest who welcomed the new Flarans in the courtyard of the Temple was Reman Nigh, a stout man with a black mustache that covered his mouth and half his chin, and a bush of hair that began behind a large forehead. He seemed already middle-aged, and yet he was only halfway through his twenties. He was third of the three Priests in the Temple, newly come to the town only a few months before. Some of the catechism had he taught, but only to substitute for teachers with other engagements, and so none of the boys there knew the man well.

"Only once is it permitted," he was saying, "to drink of Flarow's fountains." The fountains he spoke of flanked the path that led through the courtyard and to the door. Each pool was rectangular, and each had a statue of Flarow rising from the water. The actual water of the fountain was leaning toward green rather than blue, and Ayrim cringed at the thought of taking a sip, but it probably wouldn't kill him. Hopefully. Maybe. The Priest continued as he dipped a wooden bowl under the surface. The water more slithered than flowed into it. "That is when we first come to Flarow. Come to me and taste of her water."

They came in turn, each drinking from the bowl. It didn't taste terrible, Ayrim thought, but it certainly had a slimy quality. He was almost thankful for the water, much as that boy who had leapt into the pool must have been, for Flarow's Temple was exactly opposite in the town from Tianon's, and nearly a half hour they had walked to get there. Besides, it was only this once, so the young man stayed quiet. Many others didn't, and they gagged dramatically. Nigh didn't seem to notice. Either that or he simply ignored the demonstrations, since likely a great many did it. Boys of that age almost never gave a ceremony the proper respect or contemplation. He said, "At tomorrow's prayer service will you be welcomed before the congregation. Today we have no ceremony, for already have you made your Choice, and already have you taken on the blue of Flarow. We will give you a copy of the Book of the Sea, our primary Text. In catechism you should have already received the Book of the Six, which all gods share. Use them well. Our library is, of course, open to all of you, if you have interest in other texts, histories, or commentaries. I can answer your questions now, if you have any. If you have questions in the future, the Priests are here during the daylight hours, and we always welcome your visits."

There were few questions, and none of which Ayrim couldn't already answer. He took the new book, one far thinner than the Book of the Six. This one was unadorned on the cover except for the symbol of the mirror, which was to remind Flarans to look critically upon themselves. And then the children were dismissed.

Ayrim found Gerill waiting outside the courtyard for him. The Thane was grinning broadly, and he said, "I thought I would find you here."

"No one told you I had picked Flarow?"

"None," Gerill shrugged.

"How did you know?"

"When I saw you practicing outside last night, I knew you would pick her. She is a demanding goddess, and so are you demanding of yourself."

"Are you mad?"

"Whatever for?"

"You did not want me to pick her because you are a Flaran."

"Did you pick her for that reason?"

"No."

"I didn't believe that you did. You picked her through Tianon, just as you are meant to. I am greatly pleased, Ayrim, that you are following in my footsteps. But I am more pleased that you picked this path yourself, and not because I traveled it first.

"And it will be easier that we both worship together," continued the Thane. "We will come to Prayers together, and so too may we study and worship."

Ayrim smiled. He hadn't yet thought of reading his new Text with Hyte, and yet he was very glad he would have someone near to him to help. Gerill was right: Flarow would be very demanding. The boy, the young man, was looking forward to every second of the journey.

## Chapter 12

The Temple of Flarow was actually part of Saparen's wall, and the stone base to the wooden building dipped down into the Tarrit Lake. A long pier stretched out into the water, and a ramp led up from the pier into the city just beside the Temple. This second gate into the town, guarded by thick wooden doors, iron portcullis, and a full complement of soldiers, was maintained by the Baron, and yet the image of Flarow was carved into its frame, a reminder to traders and sailors that it is at Flarow's whim that man is allowed to travel by the sea at all. It was also placed there in a plea to the goddess, for when the port entrance was built a century before, the man who ruled the city then worried that a second gate would too much weaken his city, and so he ordered the image carved to remind Flarow that the gate was built for her followers (as sailors, predictably, followed her almost exclusively), and that she should help protect the city from invaders.

Before becoming a follower of Flarow, Ayrim had never been upon the pier, for unless a man was a trader or sailor, there was rarely need. And yet, once he had discovered the spot while visiting the Temple, he would often return there in the following years, for the misty lake gave him a sense of peace. He would descend the ramp to the wooden walkway before long hours of study in the Temple's library, and there he would engage in his swordplay exercises. The gate was not often busy (the Tarmine was too shallow for heavy trade), and so few were around to bother him. It was upon that pier that Ayrim Iylin worked himself to exhaustion nearly every day, and upon that pier that he became a master swordsman. By the age of sixteen, none of the spearmen could best him, and neither could half of the Thanes, and not yet had Ayrim fully grown.

After sixteen years of life, Ayrim was still somewhat shorter than Gerill, though Hyte himself was taller than the average man. Iylin was still thin, not yet acquiring the weight to keep up with his quick growth, and yet his chest and arms were well formed. Not yet had he grown a beard, but his skin was dark and worn from his hours of practice upon a windy dock. His square face seemed one of a man five or tens years older, even without a beard, and his light hair, sprinkled with darker hairs, hung to his shoulders, only wavering slightly toward the bottom.

"I see you from my window every morning," said a voice behind Ayrim. Father Nigh might have thought he was sneaking up on the warrior, but he was wrong. Iylin knew of the Priest's presence from the beginning, but he wanted to get through the seventy-second series from Branford's book, and he wouldn't be interrupted by anything that wasn't an enemy.

"You must not look outside in the afternoons," Ayrim said perhaps less respectfully than he intended, twisting his blade around quickly. It flashed in the damp morning upon the light of the rising sun, but by the time the light appeared, the sword beneath it was gone, pulled back and thrust forward again, and the blade wavered at its speed. He was starting to become tired, and his short answer betrayed that, though he had meant nothing by it. He liked Nigh enough, though not overly. The Priest was not terribly personable.

"Um, no," Nigh replied, puzzled by the young man's response. "I am usually in the prayer room in the afternoon."

"Yes," Ayrim said without hesitation, either in his voice or in his sword. "I know the schedule of the Priests."

"I am sure that you do. You are in our library more than any other parishioner."

"True enough, but I am usually in Tianon's library more than their parishioners as well." Ayrim looked at the Priest warily. He was trying to get at something, but the young man didn't appreciate the approach much. He much preferred directness.

"Ah, yes," Reman Nigh muttered. "Your dedication is quite impressive. But your dedication, some of us feel, may be spread too thin. You practice in violence, for example."

Even this did not cause Ayrim to stumble, though the statement surprised him. He continued the Exercise, but asked, "I seek to better myself in all ways. This discipline is important for our battles against the ern."

"Is that it, or are you training to bring war upon Fahlin?"

Exercise Seventy-Two came to an end, and Ayrim closed his eyes, breathing the air deeply. These more advanced series were tiring, but they built up his endurance as much as his skill. He sheathed his sword and wiped his face off with his tunic. "The king's war is nearly over. We control all three castles of the Last Stand, and Fahlin's forces have all but withdrawn. By the time I am of age to be sent to war, the war will be done. I do not plan to run off and volunteer when I am more needed here."

"Will King Trosalan stop at the Last Stand?"

Ayrim shrugged. "It is not for me to say." Neither the Baron nor the King would allow him to go anyway. No one born on Osilar eighth of 8704 was allowed in the war, since the war was being waged, in part, to protect those very men.

The Priest placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, saying, "With your knowledge and faith, you could become a Priest of a high Order. Perhaps a Bishop. You know the Texts better than almost anyone in this town. You know history better than the Baron himself. But you spend your time with that weapon."

"I have not abandoned my studies, Father," was Ayrim's response. "Nor will I. As you have said, I study more than almost anyone in our Temple, and I do not believe you would say that my study of our faith has been deficient. If I have been lax there, please let me know, and I will correct it. If Flarow wants me as a Priest, so will I become. If she wants me as a Thane, there I will go as well. Until my path is laid before me, though, I will remain in the libraries and here on the pier equally."

Nigh nodded, then asked, "You will come to the prayer service now?"

"Of course."

"Good, I will walk with you." They walked toward the gate, and Reman Nigh said, "I heard that you were one of the ones born on the day of the Prophets' deaths."

"Yes, but two tests proved me incapable."

"I feared as much, but hoped that I had been misinformed. I suppose then that you've heard about last night?"

"No, I have spoken to no one but you today."

The Priest stopped, surprised. "I thought for sure that your father would have told you."

Ayrim looked back queerly. "I usually rise before my father these days. He has been patrolling with the evening guard, and doesn't get in 'til late. Why? What news is there?"

"It was one of the others – the ones born the same day that you were. One of them was murdered last night."

## Chapter 13

After Prayers, Ayrim went to the Tianon's Den and to the library there. Though the building was separate from the Temple, it was constructed by the Tianist clergy, and their students kept watch over the building. Like all six of the town's libraries, it was open to anyone, yet few made use of it save Tianists. Of course, that few included Ayrim Iylin.

Most of its books had burned fifteen years before, but the enormous room had since been filled well with texts and manuscripts, though many were new, since so many of those burned books were irreplaceable. The ones they had would do, for Ayrim had read every book on the Prophets that the other libraries boasted, and only Tianon's had more accounts and more histories. The murder had renewed the boy's interest in the group, and it renewed his concern as well.

He could not remember the battle that had killed his father; he had been too young. Since then, the ern had been few and scattered. There were rumors of bandits in the taverns, sure, but few ern were getting by the Last Stand since the war against Fahlin started. The danger of the Invokers of Vid had always been a threat of another age or another place, only real in stories told or sung by bards in the taverns. Still, he had always been intrigued by the history of the Wizards and the theories of the strengthening Absence. Most historians dismissed the idea of ern using Magic as exaggeration, and yet many others had interesting ideas, the most prevalent being that the Ending Battle between the gods and the Absence was beginning. But Ayrim found something different in his own studies. Vid's surge in power was part of a greater trend, not a sudden shift. The Absence, he realized, had been growing in strength since the Great War, and the gods had been getting weaker since that time as well.

It was only during the Kamuna Dynasty, less than twenty-five hundred years before, that the Absence first birthed a Prophet, or at least that was the first time one was recognized as such. Before then there were only six Wizards. At first, the Prophet of the Absence could only unravel small things, like the flame upon a candle or produce a small crack in the ground. The Tower invited him into their home almost as a joke, but also to prove their dominance over the Absence.

But that had been long ago, and each successive Prophet of the Absence had gained in strength. By the time Ayrim was born, the Absence Prophet, Draughton Xyn, was the strongest by far of the seven, able to undo even Life and Death given enough time and concentration. This expansion in power paralleled the growth of the ern population, creatures thought to be created by Vid.

Meanwhile, the alliance between the Tower and the Kings was growing ever weaker, and no longer were the six Prophets of the gods protectors of humanity, they were more researchers. Actually, in the recent past, they had been reduced to travelers as new Prophets were more and more difficult to find. Draughton Xyn was a famous example, for he was a decade aged before they found him, but the Absence Prophet before him was lost even longer. For more than forty years did they search, and when they found him, they realized that at least one Prophet had to have died in those two score years, for the new Prophet of the Absence was twelve in age instead of forty. That one lived to be sixty, and then a dozen years after his death was Draughton Xyn found. Draughton himself was more than forty when Ayrim was sixteen.

And then there was the example of the Prophets of the Flame and of the Wind. Two Wizards, dead on the same day sixteen years before, and neither successor had been found. For sixteen years had the five remaining Mages searched, but for naught. Ayrim frowned. Was this the future of the Tower, to merely scour the land for Prophets they would never find? The murder the night before suggested to Ayrim that not even the followers of the Absence had found the Prophets, or at least one remained missing, for why still search otherwise?

Or was the time of the Prophets coming to an end? There had been a definite decline in their power since the time that they themselves ruled the kingdoms, and, if that trend continued, there would come a time when the Magic was too weak to even be noticed within someone.

If that was the case, that the Prophets were becoming too feeble to matter any longer, Ayrim could think of two causes. Either the Ending Battle was coming, and the gods were conserving their power to use against Vid, or the Absence was winning.

## Chapter 14

Gerill Hyte had been told of the murder, for the Thanes were expected to enforce the laws within the city, and he had even gone to the body to examine it. The event made his stomach crawl, and he knew he would have to tell Ayrim about it sometime, though Father Nigh had informed the boy first. The Thane had assigned three spearmen to discretely follow his son, just in case. That much he had not told Ayrim, but he didn't need to. Iylin knew when he was being followed, and he knew the reason. Those spearmen were known to the young swordsman, and so there was no confusion in him that they might be working for the Absence.

"Was it man or ern that did it?" asked the youth when his mentor came to him later that day. His guards had been with him several hours.

Gerill shook his head. "We don't know yet. The man was strangled with rope, which both ern and men have been known to use. We have found no tracks of either sort, so we do not know. Three of those who share your birthday remain in the walls, including you. I have sent two spearmen and one archer with each. Tonight our home will be guarded, and it will remain that way until the mystery is solved."

"I understand." The words made an attempt at emotionlessness, but failed miserably.

Ayrim's prayers that night were hard in coming, for constantly was the devout swordsman distracted. The only complete thought he was able to utter was, "Flarow watch over us," and then his sentences would wither upon his tongue.

With his fist he struck the floor where he was kneeling. He should not be overcome by circumstances – that was what all of his sword training was about. Nothing should be able to pull his concentration astray. A true warrior should be ever focused, for nothing that happened on a battlefield was expected.

He stood and went to his window. The area surrounding the Thanes' barracks was a rather wealthy one, and so most of what Ayrim could see from his second floor window were other second floors. And yet he looked down into the quiet alleyway, appreciating the stillness of the night. The spearman stationed below his window seemed to be sitting, likely taking a break. The night would be a long one for him, the boy understood. Just like it would be a long one for Ayrim Iylin. But no, he realized, his eyes peering deeper into the shadows. The guard wasn't sitting. He was leaning upon the opposite home, but not in a sitting manner, but more as though he were slumping against it. The soldier's spear lay strewn upon the ground, and the man himself was strewn against the wall, his head leaning oddly to the side.

The spearman was dead.

Ayrim backed away, looking to his bed. It was there – his sword. Gerill had allowed weapons upstairs this one time, knowing that it would protect the young man perhaps better than the spearmen would. He leapt for the weapon as the window noiselessly fell apart like a wilted flower. In a moment there was only a hole in the wall, and not even Ayrim would have noticed if he had not been watching the thing happen.

The ern climbed up the wall and stepped upon the sill, crouching low inside the frame as he looked inside. The room was dark, and the beast could not see all the way across, despite his strong night vision. But also was it quiet, suggesting that the inhabitant was still asleep. The Magic had been utterly noiseless, as had the ern's ascent, so perhaps the boy was still in bed. The abomination stepped forward, its naked foot touching the cold ground.

And Ayrim was upon him, leaping from the shadows of the corner with blade flashing, once, twice, and then a third time was the ern attacked before it could even raise its own blade. Pale blood spilt upon the floor, and Ayrim ran from the room, knowing that the monsters did not usually travel alone. "Ern, ern!" he yelled, running down the stairs at three steps in a stride, but he did not wait until Gerill or Jeslin woke. It was him the ern sought, and he would not endanger his family by cowering inside. He had to lead them off toward the walls, where the guards were concentrated.

He crossed the threshold, moving so quickly that he almost didn't notice the second spearman, dead beside the doorstep. The archer was likely fallen as well, but Ayrim could not stop to make certain. He sped across the street, anything to get away from the house, yelling, "Ern!" as he went. His neighbors needed to be awakened. The guards needed to be notified. But above all, Ayrim yelled so that the ern themselves might hear, and be drawn away from the others of his home.

It worked, for when Ayrim turned the next corner, they suddenly appeared before him – a pair of the pale creatures. In the darkness, the swordsman almost mistook them for men, but no man could be so white, and the sharp teeth and claws eventually revealed themselves to Ayrim, and he knew. They carried axes, both of them, and they growled and hissed at the young man.

So Ayrim turned back, only to find another four gaining on him from that direction. Six in all, each armed with sword or axe, each charging after him. Horror gripped him with cold and clammy hands, for though he had practiced fighting often with warriors, only very rarely had he even seen an ern before that night, at least not since the battle in which his father died. It was rare he left the city, and only then to Gerill's farm, and most were slain before getting within two miles of Saparen. Of the ones he had seen, most were corpses, and only two or three had he seen while still living. But here were six, and he was alone. His hands sweat so much that his sword nearly slipped out, and yet he held on as the forces drew nearer to him. _Breathe_! He had to gain control. His life would depend on it.

At last one of the four from behind him charged, sword squealing as it was swung. Ayrim's mouth went dry as he watched, doing nothing, and then instinct took control of his being. It was part of his early lessons, one of the first moves he learned as he was memorizing Exercise One from Cynus Branford's book. Duck and swipe. He didn't even realize he was doing it until he did, and the ern's blade cut the air over his head as his body folded over itself. In the same movement did his own sword spring out, and he swung backhanded at the ern. The beast backed away in time, but the series was not over. The swordsman stepped forward, jabbing twice, but both blows were turned to the side, but not a chance did the ern had to strike, for Ayrim had improvised into Exercise Thirty-Eight, and with a flick of his wrist was the ern's blade knocked aside. Iylin's sword was on the inside suddenly, and, continuing his motion, he swiped the weapon across, ripping open the ern's throat.

He didn't pause to admire his work, for he knew the others would be fast upon him; he turned again to the pair carrying axes, and only just in time did he see them, for already were their axes coming down against him. One he caught upon his sword, and the other he sidestepped. The heavy weapon thudded against the ground, and with a shove he was away from the first ern and headed toward the next. This was a combination of three separate Exercises, but it ended with his blade to its hilt in an ern's chest, while he was kicking the other once again away.

The final three caught up by that time, and the quartet of monsters surrounded the quick swordsman, and yet Ayrim didn't pause. With a single swing did he block two attacks, and then to the other side of the circle he flew, jabbing his sword into the pale leg of one of the ern, then pulling it back into the belly of another. The latter would not survive to attack again, but though the first was not terribly wounded, the shock of the blow caused him to recoil, and Ayrim had an opening.

Through the breach he ran, leaving three dead ern behind him, but three more living ones were following closely. Again he called out his warning, but the town was slow in answering. South he led them, toward the pier, down wide streets and narrow alleys alike, trying to keep the monstrosities guessing until he had a chance to kill one or two more. They were not terribly good fighters, these ern, but together, Ayrim knew, they could overcome him.

And then the southern wall appeared before him, the narrow catwalk and the low battlements that looked over the lake behind the town. But where were the guards? Ayrim knew that the complement of soldiers was light this time of the night, but between the tall houses in Flarow's Den could he see no one.

"Ern!" he yelled once more, ducking around the corner and running parallel with the wall. He was growing weary, but the ern did not seem to be. Faster and faster they came, catching up with him.

And then there was a whistle in the night, and an ern tumbled over himself and into the dirt of the wide road. Ayrim swung around, and the first beast was nearer to him than he thought. He instantly brought his sword up, but it was batted away by its axe. The bodies collided and tumbled to the street, and Iylin desperately clutched onto his sword, swinging it around at his attack. So too was the axe coming, but the man was a second quicker. The blade pierced flesh; the ern rolled away in pain, and Ayrim scooted across the ground after him. In a moment his sword was embedded in the ern's back.

The last ern was running at him, though, and Ayrim Iylin got to his feet as quickly as he could. But another whistle cut into the night, and the swordsman watched an arrow embedded itself into the ern's hip in a splash of pale blood. The beast's momentum kept him coming, and a second arrow was shot into its neck. Only then did the ern fall, and it spilt its pink blood into the dirt like its allies had done before.

Ayrim sighed heavily, but it was some time before he finally looked up at the wall, where the lone archer stood, guarding his hometown from enemies. His job had been performed well, for the ern lay dead on the streets, and Iylin was safe.

## Chapter 15

"Ayrim!" called a voice from just down the street, and Gerill Hyte was approaching, sword wielded. The older man's eyes darted about the streets, but no ern remained, only the people of Saparen, emerging from their homes to investigate the noises. Some ran forward to examine the ern and the survivors, and some held back, waiting, watching. Iylin dropped his own blade out of weariness and collapsed into the Thane's arms. "Are you wounded?" questioned Gerill.

"No," said the young swordsman.

"I followed as quickly as I was able, but you were too fast for me."

"Jeslin?"

"The ern never came inside the house."

"I am glad."

"Ayrim," Gerill took the boy by the shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes. In Gerill's own eyes did Iylin see something of amazement or even awe. The Thane continued, "I saw part of that fight against the six ern as I was running to you. Never before have I seen someone fight like that. I know the book by heart, but some of those moves I have never witnessed."

"I don't know," Ayrim said. "I didn't think, I just fought."

"Amazing," was all Gerill could say in response. "You have touched the heart of swordplay, son. I am a Master, and I know Branford's book better than any man in this town, but I cannot blend the moves in such a way. I would have fallen in that battle, Ayrim. Six would likely have been too many for me. I could not have done what you did, to improvise between a hundred Exercises as though you were creating original ones."

The archer had come down from the wall in the aftermath of the battle, and he arrived then, interrupting the conversation. His bow was still strung, and he seemed ready at any moment to retrieve another arrow. He was only a couple of years older than Ayrim, and his beard was light upon his thin face. The warrior was built for no other weapon except the bow, for he was thin and lanky, and did not seem to have the strength of body necessary for a sword or spear. Strength of arm, yes, but not of body. And yet he had already proven himself quick, and his strength was at least enough to pull the bowstring taunt, which was not the simple task that some of the melee fighters liked to suggest.

"Is anyone hurt?" he asked. Like Gerill, he too was wary of the shadows, and watching the area more than looking at Ayrim.

"I am fine," Ayrim said, "thanks to you." He clasped the archer's wrist, saying, "I owe you my life. I am Ayrim Iylin. My father, Master Gerill Hyte."

"My lord," the archer bowed before the Thane. "Of course I know of the two of you. I am Dariel Sterwet."

Also did Gerill take the man's wrist, and he said, "You have saved my son, and I am eternally in your debt."

"He was doing well enough alone," Sterwet shook his head. "I only helped bring about the finish more quickly. I'm afraid I hesitated a little at the beginning. Ern in the town – I don't think I've ever seen that before."

"Only once have I seen it myself," Gerill said, "and that was the invasion. They had to destroy the walls to achieve it."

"Have they done so today?" Ayrim said. "They used the Absence at the house."

"Did they?" Gerill's breath was caught. "I will call upon the soldiers to check the walls. But I think otherwise. I fear that they have found another way into Saparen. Come, we three must speak with the Baron immediately."

## Chapter 16

The Baron's son, Dravin, the Ignist, arrived in the hall first. He still wore his sleeping garments, but his sword hung at his side. Some of the guards stationed inside the keep swore that the young man slept with the blade at his hip, but rumors from certain women in the town decidedly refuted that claim. But the boy was only rarely seen without it, and he practiced his technique almost as much as Ayrim did, though he did not have the natural talent of the young Iylin.

Dravin Verios had hardened in the last years, becoming ever more focused and humorless. Already did he lead a regiment of spearmen, despite the fact that his young age would forbid a normal boy from even joining the group. But Dravin's rank did nothing to weaken the guard, for his men were trained to be nothing more or less than warriors, and every moment of their lives was dedicated to protecting Saparen. That division, "the First Rank," as Dravin had named them, were perfect soldiers, even if their dedication had made them rather dull men. A soldier, in Dravin's view, was neither kind nor cruel. He should not be affected by maidens in distress any more than they should hate ern. They were machines, like a waterwheel, built for a task. The Baron's son himself scarcely, if ever, joked, and everyone quickly recognized that his philosophy was nothing if not lived out personally.

The First Rank was the pride of the spearmen, and yet the group had not been sent to the Last Stand, as so many others had. Baron Dravor always met his quota of soldiers demanded by the King, and so he said that the First Rank was not needed in the west, and Saparen would make better use of the strong guard, for the memory of the Battle of the Osilar Young remained fresh with the people, even if it had been waged fifteen years before. Such was the Baron's claim, but most suspected that the reason the First Rank remained in Saparen was simply Dravin. The famous Ignist might have at last revealed a weakness, for though he would, at a mere request, go to the Last Stand himself and run naked through the enemy camp just for the chance that he might wound a single soldier of the opposing side, he wavered when it came to the life of his own son.

The younger Verios hardly had time to express his welcomes to the visitors before Dravor himself appeared. He had slipped on a tunic and breeches, but no sword hung at his side. Yes, both men were devout Ignists, but their choices in attire said much about them. Both were warriors and diplomats, and yet one was warrior first, and the other leaned more toward diplomacy as he aged. Of those present, only Gerill remembered how Dravor stood at the head of his army during the Battle of the Osilar Young, and the change he saw in his lord caused him no small amount of sadness. An Ignist the Baron remained, and he would still fight if given the chance, but Gerill could see the fire beginning to wane.

Dravor Verios neared forty in years, and those years had caused a decline in his strength, more so than might have been expected of the fiery young Baron. A series of illnesses a few years before had aged the Baron more than he should have aged, and his once thick form had been tamed somewhat. He had worked very hard to regain his strength, and the man was still more firm than nearly anyone in town, but he wasn't the man he once was. Still would he himself lead his men into battle if another army were to attack Saparen, but he would not likely fare so well as he did in the last attack. He had, in fact, requested to join his King at the Last Stand, but Regis Trosalan himself forbid it, saying that Saparen had need of the Baron more than the war did. It had been a blow to Verios' ego, but he remained at his home dutifully. In fact, the message alone had caused another decline in the man, for he began to worry that his time was already past. His long hair was growing grey, and his clothes were growing a little tighter around the belly, even if it was still tight around his chest. It was often said that the worst fate for an Ignist was to grow old. It was certainly true for the Baron.

"Gerill, Ayrim," said Dravor, smiling politely. No, Gerill thought suddenly. Verios was not the warrior he once was, but he was still as kind and loyal a man. The son was by far the better warrior, but not much else had the elder Verios lost to time. "It is good to see you well. The soldiers gave me a quick report, and when I heard that ern had come for you, I feared the worst."

"After the way I saw my son handle a blade tonight," the Thane said, "I doubt that an army of ern could even wound him."

"Truly?" asked young Dravin, grinning slightly. It was the only time he ever grinned, when the subject of conversation turned to swordplay or soldiering. He brought his hand down upon Ayrim's shoulder in a sign of admiration, proud to hear that the boy had performed so well. Still were the two friends, even if their interests led them in rather different directions.

Baron Verios continued, speaking to the archer, "And you slew two of them yourself?"

"Aye, sire. I am Dariel Sterwet, archer of the third division."

"Ha!" laughed Dravor, and he said, "I am glad I decided to send the second division to the King instead of the third. Who knows what might have happened had I chosen otherwise."

"I imagine," said Dariel, not without humor, "that Master Ayrim would have fared well enough alone."

"Yes, yes," said the Baron. "But ern inside the town concerns me greatly. I certainly got no report of ern activity around the city, and the guards told me of none trying to enter the town."

"The First Rank guards the gates, father," said Dravin, insulted by the presence of the ern. His meaning was clear enough. His spearmen made it a matter of honor to know every person who entered or left the gates. To question their thoroughness was to question the soldiers themselves.

"The gates are guarded well," Gerill agreed, "but what of the walls? Thinner have we left our defenses as the King requires more for the war."

"Yes," agreed the elder Verios. "We patrol as best we can, but six of eight divisions of spearmen have been taken west, and five of the archer regiments. I have lengthened the shift upon the wall to half a day, and yet still do we not have enough, not if I am to continue scouting the area as well.

"And yet," continued the Baron, "I do not see how seven ern might climb the wall without anyone noticing. Until the attack tonight, none of my soldiers have been reported missing or slain, so the ern have not simply done away with witnesses. And nor has my wall been breached since the battle so many years ago.

"And then there is the matter of scouting. Finding Ayrim would be a simple matter, even for ern, for everyone in town knows our young swordsman. Locating him would be as simple as finding Dravin here. But what of the boy last night? Ern cannot simply wander around the square acquiring information. Yes, it has been confirmed that they possess, at least to a degree, the power of the Absence, but the Absence only destroys, it cannot provide them with locations of children in this city of mine. Ern should not have been able to find that boy."

"What are you saying, father?" asked Dravin.

"I am saying that it would be simpler for the ern to sneak into town and find the children born the day of the Prophets' deaths if there was a man inside the town helping them."

Ayrim's breath was caught. He had wondered the same thing, and yet hearing the theory aloud caused him great fear. Strange that the simply voicing of thoughts added such weight to them, as though it were true simply because the words were said.

The Baron's son was outraged. "You doubt the loyalty of men in this war against the ern?"

"You were not yet born then," Dravor retorted, "but you may remember the reports of men fighting against Saparen with the ern in the battle that destroyed half of my city. They have human allies in this, Dravin, and possibly inside these walls."

"If there are, the First Rank will find them."

"Damn this war!" Dravor Verios said suddenly. "We are spread too thin, and the King wants more and more. As soon as I build a regiment is it taken away from me. The ern have come for us, and they have brought with them Magic as we have never seen, and yet Trosalan continues his quest to take over Fahlin. We have almost taken the Last Stand! Is that not enough?"

His son was startled, and he said, "You doubt the King's actions?"

"I do, and you will too when you are Baron; every day you will doubt. Many times he will be proven in the right, and you will be ashamed that you doubted, but you will doubt, for many times he will be wrong as well. In public you will defend his every move, but you will grind your teeth at some of those moves. Fahlin would have let us reinforce the Last Stand under the command of their lords, but Regis Trosalan wanted the castles for himself. He wanted his army on Aeresan soil, not Fahlin land. Fine, let him take the Last Stand, for the Last Stand was meant to protect us anyway, not Fahlin. But now he makes plans to invade further, even before the three castles are secure. Fahlin courts Drynslin for help, and it looks as though they might come. Men fight men while the ern and the Absence grow stronger. My own guard has become so weak that I cannot even protect my own castle, much less my other lands that surround Saparen. So, yes, I doubt. With one more demand from the front lines, I must abandon our scouts, lest we forsake our walls completely, and so nothing will we know of the countryside until the threat is upon us. Ern may take my land up to this very gate, and if another army slips through the Last Stand while Trosalan worries over Fahlin, we could be overcome."

The Baron sighed and put his fists upon his waist. "It is late," he said. "Some topics are best saved for daylight. Son, make sure that the bodies are collected and that Gerill and Ayrim have another guard before they return to their home." And then the aging man retreated.

## Chapter 17

Ayrim was the only person in Serrin's library that early morning, which was not terribly unusual. Even the well-trafficked libraries were generally quiet places, not like the market or the city gate. The librarian was a young man of thirteen who was studying for the Priesthood, but when Ayrim arrived he was asleep at his desk. Ayrim, however, despite a noticeable lack of rest in the night, was wide awake. In this morning was he reading an account of the Battle of Ern Invasion. He had met its author, Chyre Nilar, years ago, but the elderly man had died of old age a couple of years back. Ayrim had already read that book once, but he felt a desire to review the events.

"Only Ayrim Iylin would be here so early," said a voice from across the room.

"Or Father Rignslin Josite," was the reply, and Ayrim lifted his eyes to confirm his suspicions. The Priest ran his hand along the shelves to guide himself through the room, so weak had his eyes become. And yet his smile was paramount on his face, and never did the middle-aged man complain about the loss of his most precious asset. He was a Serrenite, after all, and he knew that there was a greater reason that his eyes were failing him, and that the gods would be glorified in some way because of his handicap.

Otherwise, the Priest was aging well. Thin lines had appeared on his face, yet they were not so noticeable, and Rignslin seemed to be keeping his hair and build well enough. He said, "Even a blind man can see some things, and when there is someone in the library before Prayers, he sees that it is either Ayrim or Rignslin, neither of which have any business in Serren's library, Ayrim being a Flaran and Rignslin being blind."

"You're not blind quite yet, Father," Ayrim said as he rose to embrace the Priest.

"Near enough, my son, near enough. I was hoping that the sleeping boy over there could read to me for a little while, but I will not disturb him if you will keep me company?" The last part was a question, as though he was seeking permission that he knew he would receive.

"Of course I will."

"I heard of the attack last night," Rignslin Josite said as he sat beside the young swordsman. "I am glad that you came out of it without injury."

"I was lucky."

"Not the way the tale is told. The incident has traveled far in the last few hours, and nothing of luck is said of your side of things. Yet I am disturbed by the details. Is it true they called upon the Absence?"

"I fear that it is."

The Priest grunted and frowned. "The balance is shifting, Ayrim. In every year I hear more of the Absence and less of the gods. Even in the Tower, where once the six Prophets could easily match the Absence Prophet, does Vid rule. Now the six has become the four; the two new Prophets remain hidden from the world. Might the end be upon us? So I wonder every day, and yet in the Ending Battle are the men supposed to unite against the Absence and the followers of Vid, but we are more divided than ever."

"Some of us remain, Father," Ayrim said. "More stay loyal to the gods than those who forsake them."

"Yes, perhaps you are right." Rignslin looked to his young friend with nearly sightless eyes, and said, "You will soon be offered a position with the Thanes, if rumors are to be believed. After your battle last night, I imagine it a certainty."

"So some say. It has not happened yet."

"Will you take it when offered? It may mean going to the Last Stand, for so many of the Thanes are already there."

Ayrim thought for a moment, then said, "My path is not yet clear to me."

"You speak like a Serrenite. I approve, of course, but do not be complacent. Do not be so intent on looking for signs that you do not see your path when it appears to you. The gods rule, yes, but the particulars of their rule are often hidden from our eyes. It is for us to act in those place, but to act in faith and contemplation. Wherever you go, Ayrim, I know that you will do well."

"I hope that I will."

## Chapter 18

The Holy Texts, in the Book of the Six, tell of a time when the gods and the people were united, and men of the world worshiped the gods collectively. And then came the Absence, and Vid tried to turn the people away from the gods, but failed in this mission because of Serren's great sacrifice upon a battlefield between two armies. That story has been told and needn't be revisited, but what happened afterward should be shared. Vid then sought to divide the gods themselves, and there he at last succeeded.

In the old times, each god represented a Virtue, and yet each embraced all Virtues equally. But Vid sent his followers covertly to the gods, and these spies would taunt the vanities of the gods.

To Ignar, they would say, "Surely Justice is the greatest of Virtues, for only through Justice can society be maintained. And yet Flarow seeks to make a man only concerned with himself. Can we truly survive with her working against you?"

So too did they go to Flarow, and said, "Ignar does not wish for men to look inward, but only to others. If he had his way, wouldn't we all be a greatly sinful people, pointing out each other's sins without sympathy? Would there be no peace in the world?"

And to Tianon: "Surely a man must make his own way in the world, to be responsible for only himself, but is that what Whesler really wants? Wouldn't she take what is one man's to give to another?"

And to Whesler: "Look at Tianon, refusing the share what he has accomplished. You would never hoard what you have learned and created as he does. Why, society will never be advanced with every man hiding his possessions and knowledge from everyone else."

Even to the greater gods they spoke, and to Serren they said, "Tarite has no faith in the greater plans of the gods. He does not go to the Six before deciding to do something. He merely goes off and works on his own, even if his plans interfere with what the Six have already decided. Does he have no respect for the ways of of the other gods?"

Lastly to Tarite, saying, "Serren always wants to wait before acting. She never works for what she desires, but expects it be simply granted unto her. Does she not understand that the people build the stations they will possess after death by toiling and producing in life?"

And so the gods began arguing amongst themselves, and no longer did Ignar see Justice in his own morality, and neither did Flarow understand that her own Virtue was connected with Justice; also did Tianon think Whesler lazy, and decided not to share what he learned with her, and Whesler decided that even the acquisition of Knowledge was greedy, and so remained in ignorance; also did Serren sink further into her complacency, for surely there was no Faith if a man decided to work toward the good, and Tarite discouraged the people from calling on the gods at all, for they should be able to solve their own problems.

And as the gods were divided, the once unified faith and divided, and it became six separate faiths. The people, like the gods, began to think that one Virtue was superior to the others, and that it was acceptable to forsake one lesser Virtue to achieve a greater one. In this way did Vid trick the gods themselves into advocating Vice as much as Virtue.

So say the Holy Texts.

## Chapter 19

It was a week before another attack was made, but not upon Ayrim did this one come. He was at home, asleep, while Gerill helped walk the wall at the end of the second shift. Only two shifts there were by this time, and toward the end of each were the soldiers weary, and not as attentive as they would normally have been, and so what remained of the Thanes, scantily ten left in the city, made it their habit to reinforce the guards at these times, especially after the ern had successfully snuck into the city.

But Gerill came home earlier than expected that evening, and his demeanor was clearly disturbed. He stormed into Ayrim's room, and the boy sprung awake, the sudden noises drawing him immediately from his sleep. The Thane went to the window, which had been crudely boarded closed until it could be more appropriately repaired. "No others have come?" he asked of Ayrim.

"None save you."

"Good," Hyte said, sitting down. The word was made in relief, and yet relief had not come to the Thane. "There has been another attack. One of the attackers, an ern, was slain, but the others, no fewer than five in number, have escaped. They remain inside the walls, but we have not found them yet."

"Which one did they go after?" Iylin asked, expecting to hear one of two names, one of the other two boys in town born on the eighth day of Osilar, in the year 8704. Both of those other two lived in Whesler's Den, and so Ayrim assumed that the attack had come there. But neither of the other boy's name came as the reply.

"I cannot say," said Gerill. "That is to say, we do not know. It happened at the Crimson Veil, in one of the upstairs rooms, yet you know that the other two live in Whesler's Den, and both were at home at the time." The Crimson Veil was the primary inn in Serren's Den, halfway across the city from either Ignar's (where Ayrim was) or Whesler's.

"Who was in that room?"

"No one. It was empty."

"Those in the common room?"

"A couple remember a man hidden beneath a cloak, but do not know what happened to him. Tomorrow is Serren's Day, so the tavern wasn't very crowded that late. But Master Haden saw no one he did not know come in tonight, and no one wearing such a cloak, and the bar sits beside the door."

"But there is an entrance from the stable, and it empties into the common room right beside the stair."

"Yes, you remember well."

"Or they might have come by the Absence."

"No, nothing was destroyed except the lock on the room's door. They came from within the building, not without."

"You said someone was slain?"

Gerill scanned the room again, ever watchful of coming enemies. With the power of the Absence, locked doors and walls were no hindrance, and so the Thane left his hand upon his sword's hilt, ready if part of the room were to simply dissolve away. Still were soldiers guarding the three young men, and yet so few could be spared, and only Dariel Sterwet (as a reward for his quick action) was stationed at the household of Gerill Hyte.

The answer to the question came at last, as Gerill said, "As the ern were leaving, one of the patrons was coming up the stair. A visitor from the south, I know not exactly where. He managed to leave a dagger in an ern's chest before they killed him. He yelled for help as well. The other assassins were too busy trying to escape to retrieve the body, and yet all left without anyone getting good enough a look to tell ern from man, or even an accurate count of their numbers."

Ayrim thought on what he had learned, and said, "It is odd, don't you think?"

"What is?"

"That last week their understanding of the town and the people in it was so accurate, and yet tonight they missed all three targets by at least a den."

"Yes, I had wondered about that."

"Any theories?"

"A few, but I do not have enough evidence to give me a good one. The first is that you killed whichever one knew the town so well."

"I doubt that," said Ayrim. "I tend to think the Baron was right in believing a human spy is helping them."

"As do I, but it is a possibility that they are left to look on their own now, for whatever reason, and are striking randomly. Or this might be unrelated. Another group of ern happened into the town and sought to kill where they may."

"A mighty coincidence, especially considering that they fled after being discovered. If they were simply ern intent on killing, they would have started a melee there in the common room."

"I quite agree. It is so unlikely a theory that I should not even have mentioned it. But the third possibility is that the target tonight was not one of the three of you, but someone else."

"Another man of my age?"

"Perhaps, or someone else who has been an obstacle for them. Yet few were in that inn last night, and none particularly active in the town's defenses, or in one of the temples, if that might make a difference. I fear that we must wait to see."

## Chapter 20

In those days following the ern attack upon Ayrim Iylin, the archer Dariel Sterwet seemed attached to the young swordsman, even when Sterwet was not supposed to be on duty. The archer did this less out of duty or honor than out of a blossoming friendship between the two, and Ayrim did not at all mind the company. Dariel was a Whesleran, and the way he gave of his time to Ayrim was only a part of his great kindness and generosity. Not even the long hours could dampen the young man's joyful nature or sense of humor, and he was ever relating funny stories about what he had seen from atop the wall or teaching Iylin slightly off-color jokes about whores or Priests (and sometimes both in the same tale). When Ayrim was inside the house, Sterwet would use the opportunity to practice, and he would set up targets, crates or bales of hay, around the street and send arrow after arrow into them. The neighbors soon learned to take a look around before walking outside, even though the archer was very careful and very accurate. He used to do these exercises on the wall, where only a few soldiers might be found, but no longer was he stationed on there, and the street was his only opportunity to perfect his skills. He was engaged to be wed, and very soon, and once he was, he would rent a room with his wife. But until then, he said that he much preferred the Hyte house to the barracks.

But so used to Dariel Sterwet had Ayrim become that he did not think it odd to have the archer standing at Master Hyte's door when Dravin and Dravor Verios themselves came to the building. And he did not think it queer in the least when the archer followed the two nobles inside, even when only the Verios men had been specifically welcomed within.

Ayrim did, in fact, think the visit itself was strange, for the Baron normally summoned people; he did not himself go to the homes of others.

Gerill was there as well, as was Jeslin, and the six gathered in the front room. Hyte offered the two Verioses wine, but it was refused.

"We want to bring Ayrim into the keep," said Dravin, and his father nodded in agreement. It had obviously been the son's idea, but one that was supported by the Baron. "Several attacks have we had now, and it is only sensible to take the targets of those attacks, the three men in this city born on that day, to where we can best protect them. Right now, that place is the keep. When we have all three in one place, we can use the keep guards to protect them and return our spearmen and archers to the wall."

Ayrim screwed up his face. "I can't simply remain in hiding all my life."

"It will not be all your life," Dravor spoke up. "It will only be until the threat is passed."

"When will it be passed?" Ayrim said.

"When the ern are found."

"I don't like it none," muttered Jeslin, but then she hushed herself and retreated into a corner. It was not her place to speak at such a meeting, but sometimes her emotions got the better of her. Ayrim understood, for they were getting the better of him, though, thankfully, he was expected to speak in front of the Baron, especially on this occasion.

So he said, "This threat has been present for sixteen years. Together, Dariel and I slew six ern last week, and we thought the threat over. It took only a week for more to arrive. This threat will not be over until the two missing Prophets are found, and I fear that event may be far in the future, if it comes about at all. It is long past time for the power to manifest itself in the two, and yet no one has gone to the Tower to lay claim to the positions. Those two Prophets have either died themselves, and two more have come, or they are too afraid to make the claim, and they stay silent. Either way, the threat remains, and it will likely remain for years."

"Are we to leave you exposed like this?" asked Dravin, his nostrils flaring.

"Do you expect me to become a soldier of Saparen, perhaps even a Thane, while locked up in the keep?"

"This last attack wasn't even against one of the three men," said Dariel Sterwet. Unlike Jeslin, whose occasional outburst was tempered by an understanding of her place, Dariel didn't seem to be aware that the two visitors to Hyte's home were several stations above him. No, that wasn't it – it was that he simply did not care in this instance. The archer (a serf) had never held his tongue around his new friend (who had been adopted into a noble family), and he would not in his friend's defense. Still, the Baron and his son listened, and Dariel continued. "Last night the ern came for someone else, an unknown party. Do you wish to hide the entire town inside the keep?"

"What else may we do?" asked the Baron.

"You would make this man a Thane in perhaps a short time, no?"

"I have strongly considered the possibility."

"Then you must trust him enough to protect himself. He is the best swordsman in the town, and I am with him most of the time, and I am no child with a bow. Let us help you."

Ayrim smiled, pleased at the turn in the conversation. He continued the argument, saying, "You are short on soldiers and Thanes, but we might help replace them. We might find these ern and the traitor that brings them inside the walls while the Thanes are in the west."

Baron Verios chuckled, and said, "You want to hunt down those who are now hunting you?"

"Simply: yes," Iylin said.

"Sire," Gerill said. "I do not wish to endanger my son, and yet the presence of ern and followers of the Absence in this town threatens him, no matter where he stays. The Thanes are too few to solve this problem quickly, and Ayrim is the best swordsman I have ever trained. What I mean, my lord, is that getting rid of our enemies will make my son safer than if he were in the keep, and our job in finding our enemies will be easier if Ayrim and Dariel were to help us."

The Baron chuckled again, and said, "Master Hyte, you have a brave son here. I have come to pull him from the fire, and have instead been convinced to throw him into it. But Ayrim, be careful. You have fought them, and they are not meager foes."

"I will be careful, Baron. And we will be swift."

## Chapter 21

Even as an adopted son of a well-respected Thane, Ayrim had never before that day been inside Saparen's dungeon. For that matter, Gerill himself rarely descended the steep stone stairway into the dank underground prison, for it was spearmen, not Thanes, who guarded the captured criminals of the city. Only when he had need to question one did he go, but there were few conspiracies in Saparen that rose to a Thane's attention, but such was the case when he led Ayrim Iylin and Dariel Sterwet there.

The air was damp, and dripping water could be heard from the entrance, though no source could be readily discerned in the misty shadows of the cavern. The glow of the torch shimmered off the thin layer of water on the ground, and the stone below was slick. Down there, the rats did not seem to fear the flame of Gerill's torch, though the guards seemed to shun the light. The dungeon was really rather small, but the darkness and winding tunnels made it seem a labyrinth of ern and undead and lurking nightmares, rather than a simple paths of petty thieves and the occasional murderer as it truly was. Ayrim involuntarily shivered and frail and pale bodies pressed up against the bars of the cells that lined the passage. Never did these men leave their crowded cells, not until their sentences were served, and many were covered in filth from not bathing for months or years. The sound of coughing was ever-present, as were groans of pain and sorrow. The stench was somewhat behind the sight, but it too caught Ayrim and grappled with him. It was a smell of vermin and waste and rotting flesh, and he coughed to try to be rid of it. But not yet, not yet.

Farther down they went, and pleas and curses alike were called upon them. Some spit, and some begged, but Gerill ignored them all, and so Ayrim and his archer friend followed farther, trying to keep their eyes forward, but sometimes failing.

"Why have we come?" asked Ayrim.

Gerill frowned and said, "Drel Tyar. He is the High Priest of Vid's faith in Saparen. Or he is their equivalent to that position."

The two young men froze at the words. They didn't even know the Absence had an organized faith, much less one in Saparen. And they were going to meet one of . . . _them_! One who had forsaken the Gods to walk in the darkness.

"Keep moving," Master Hyte warned, and the trio of warriors followed, deeper into the dungeon, until they reached a small cell near the end of the tunnel, where a solitary man sat meditating upon his bed mat. He was as pale and thin as everyone else in the dungeon, and yet he had managed to keep his beard short, and was reasonably clean. His hair fell flatly down his back, clinging to his skin, for the man wore no shirt. His chest sagged, and arms frail, and yet he was imposing, even sitting so still.

"Tyar," Gerill said, and the man looked up for the first time. His blue eyes seemed dead, yet oddly unyielding, as though Drel Tyar had died long ago, but his hatred kept his body animated.

"Gerill Hyte, my captor," said the man. "It has been many years since you visited me."

"Have the years persuaded you to speak the names of your dark parishioners?"

"I have no dark parishioners," the man's slow and thick voice drooled. "I am an Ignist."

"We have no time for games, Tyar. No longer. I caught you in the act of the sacrifice. I witnessed you when you called upon the Absence. Your denials will mean nothing. But help us now, and receive some comfort down here."

Drel Tyar rocked his head to the side, looking upon the three visitors with eyes askew. "I haven't the time for comfort, really. Serren is so weak down here. She does not often visit."

"What do you mean?" Gerill demanded.

"Nothing, only that life hasn't the hold here than it does on the surface, nothing more. Say, that doesn't happen to be Ayrim Iylin, is it? My compliments, boy, for surviving so long."

Ayrim instinctively backed away, and Gerill wielded his sword, the ring of it being unsheathed like a screech in the darkness. In a moment, the shining blade was pointed through the bars, its point at the prisoner's neck. "What do you know of my son?" demanded the Thane.

The priest of Vid raised his hands meekly, saying, "Nothing, nothing, only that the ern are after him. But then, everyone knows that, don't they? Ayrim Iylin has become quite famous around this town."

"Everyone in Saparen knows it," Gerill Hyte said, "but how do _you_? The guards are forbidden to speak to prisoners, their superiors hold them fast to that law, and the man who brings food and water is a mute. There are some down here who don't even know that Baron Verios has a son."

"But those newly come to our little den down here bring news."

"And no one is newly arrived in a season, so none would know about what has happened these last few weeks. So what has your master told you about my son, and about the ern? What does he plan?"

"Oops," grinned the Absence Priest. "Did I reveal too much? Strange how the words just . . . slipped out. It matters little. You cannot stop us, Thane. We know where the Prophets are, and no one can stop us."

"The Prophets?" Ayrim stepped forward, but Drel Tyar turned away from the three men, and as he exhaled, his hands began to come apart into mere dust, and the cloud of crumbling flesh filled the cell and the hallway outside. Ayrim could not see through it much longer, but he watched long enough to see the Absence Priest's body crumbled where he stood, and then the dust became too much, and he had to close his eyes and turn away. The cloud encompassed them, and it only made it worse to know that it was a cloud of skin, bone, and muscle. All that had been Drel Tyar was swept by an unfelt breeze and dashed about the dungeon. The closest prisoners began to cough, but then it subsided, leaving nothing behind but the man's breeches.

Drel Tyar had been right: Serren's presence had been weak in the dungeon, weak enough for a Priest of the Absence to separate the body from soul. The Invocation left Ayrim near tears, and it was not because of the dust.

## Chapter 22

Master Hyte went to the Baron with what he had learned from Drel Tyar, but Ayrim and Dariel went their own way, toward the Crimson Veil, where the previous night's attack had taken place. The common room wasn't terribly big compared to others in the city, and the innkeeper himself, Haden, sat at the bar right beside the front entrance. There were two hallways that were spawned from the main chamber, the first that went to a handful of rooms for overnight guests, and another that went to the stables. It was only through the front door or through the stables that someone could leave the building, unless, of course, he were to somehow break through the barred windows. Beside the stable exit was a stair, and on the second floor were another score rooms for rent, most of which were empty except during a festival or tournament. The lower rooms were always filled first, and then the overflow (if any) would be housed upstairs.

It was upstairs that the ern had invaded the empty room, and so upstairs did go the two young men with the blessing of Haden. Had it been evening, a few of the rooms, five or so, might have been occupied, but it was nearer to noon. The common room was quite busy, but the second story was empty.

"If they have found the Mages," Dariel was saying, "then at least they won't come after you anymore."

"Maybe," Ayrim said. "But I would rather face the ern every so often than for Vid to take two of the Prophets. I had hoped the other Wizards would have found them, and ended all of this, or at least moved the battle to the Tower. The Prophets can defend against the Absence better than we can."

"But the Absence has a member of the Tower amongst them. Is Draughton Xyn working for the Prophets or Vid?"

"I pray the Prophets, because if he's not, that only leaves four Mages to search for the two new Prophets while ten thousand ern work against them."

"But if Vid is active in this war, I cannot imagine that his Prophet would work against him."

"It's not that simple," Ayrim explained. "The Prophet of the Absence has a tenuous relationship with the Tower. In the past, that Prophet has sought to help the other Prophets for whatever reason. Some say it is for the power of the Tower, and some say that Vid's Prophet doesn't actually speak for Vid in the same way that the other Prophets speak for the Six. Either way, the Prophet of the Absence has seemed to work against Vid on occasion. The relationship is a difficult one to discern at times, I'm afraid."

"Did I tell you the story about what the Serrenite said to the Whesleran as they were shooting dice?"

"'Blow on these'? Yes, you've told it once or twice."

Dariel erupted into infectious laughter, and Ayrim turned back to the rooms that flanked the hallway with a quick roll of his eyes. The latter said, "Did Master Haden say which one it was?"

"No, but the lock was broken off, so it shouldn't be difficult to find."

"You've told me that story four times," Ayrim said, "but not all that much about your fiancée."

Dariel spoke somewhat grimly, "She doesn't like that story, and so when I'm with people who would appreciate it, I tend toward other topics rather than her. I happen to speak about you to her quite often."

"I'm sure you'll be very happy together," Iylin said sarcastically.

"Oh, it's not like that. She's a very good woman, and I am thrilled to have her. There are simply topics of conversation that you can have with one person that just won't do with another. She does not understand the ways of a warrior. She's quite a bit better than me at nearly everything else; she simply does not understand the bow or the sword. She doesn't laugh at jokes either. But we can discuss names for children and family friends, whereas when I tell you of these things, your eyes glaze over. I talk to you of warrior things and of jokes; I talk with her about people and events. Honestly, I could not have asked for a better match."

"What's her name again?"

"Serih. I've told you that four times too, but you only remember the joke."

Ayrim grinned. "People and events, huh? I suppose my eyes have been glazing over after all. I will try to pay better attention to the things I don't understand very well in the future. Relationships and people allude me, I fear."

"You do fine in friendship," Dariel said. "We just need to work on your ways with women. Remembering their names is a good start."

The archer had been right about the room being easy to find, for a few yards down the hallway was one of the doors ajar. The reason for this was simply deduced, for the bolt and knob were missing, broken off in the attack. Inside, there was nothing amiss, for the bed was prepared and waiting, and an unlit lamp upon a table next to it. The ern, apparently realizing their mistake, left the small room untouched.

"This door looks like it's been kicked in," Dariel Sterwet said, running his finger over the jagged break around where the lock once was.

Ayrim looked at it and agreed. "When they used the Absence at my window, they took part of the wall with it, all of it just dissolved. Here it is only a piece, and Gerill told me the lock and handle remained inside the room. They were not destroyed, just broken."

"Did they use the Absence somehow just around the lock?"

"Seems a waste of time, so focused an Invocation. Easier to destroy the whole door, or, if they couldn't, to kick it in."

"What do you mean, if they couldn't?"

The swordsman entered the room again, looking around. "We know that the ern who attacked me could use the Absence, but maybe as few as one of them, and I do not believe we left any alive. In fact, after they destroyed the window, they didn't use the Magic again, which suggests that they could not, since Invocation could have destroyed by blade or caused the ground to drop beneath me. So perhaps the one I killed inside the house was the only one in their group capable of Invoking Vid. But whichever one it was, or more than one, all of those ern are dead, and a different group of ern did this. Perhaps in this new group there are none who could Invoke.

"Except," Ayrim continued, returning to the doors. "This inn is famous for thick walls and thick doors. Only one in town with the least bit of privacy, which is why the prices are as they are. The only reason it's not filled completely every night is because their rates are twice that of any other inn in town. But look at how thick and heavy the door is." And it was that, for the doors were made of oak, and made well, and it took better than average effort to open and close it.

"Yes," Dariel said. "The kick that broke this door must have been a mighty one, unless they used a battling ram of some sort."

"That is more likely than a kick, even if the kick came from an ern. But shouldn't they have heard a door breaking downstairs? The walls here aren't _that_ thick. We can hear the voice down there now, and they aren't nearly as loud as a battling ram might be."

"But last night they probably had a bard performing. These places can get loud with a good bard around. The noises downstairs probably drowned out the sounds of the ern."

"Still," Ayrim said, kneeling at the door. He looked at where the lock had been, studying the pattern of the break. The hole was, crudely, a circle around the lock, with rather few splinters. It certainly wasn't sawed open, but neither did it seem fully forced. "It doesn't look right," Ayrim said. "The break curves too far from the knob for it to be a normal break. It is too clean. The Thanes have had to kick in doors before, and I have seen them. This should have splinters running all the way up the door along the grain."

"What do you think happened?"

"Perhaps the break was helped along. Perhaps the door was weakened before it was kicked. That might explain the smoother edges."

"Like the door was cut around the lock before they forced their way in? Seems like a waste of time, and anyone inside would hear the knife before it even made a scratch on this thick a door. With these doors, such a thing would take hours anyway."

"Not cut. Something else." Ayrim leaned closer, his head now nearly inside the breach. And then he saw it. The wood around the break was swollen, not as though it had been splintered in one direction when the lock was torn out, but swollen in both directions.

The swordsman gasped, and suddenly he was even more scared than when Drel Tyar had Invoked himself to death.

"What is it?" asked Dariel.

"It was Invocation, but not the Absence."

The archer shrugged, saying, "Then what did they use?"

"Water. They soaked the door first, then broke it. No one inside would hear the moisture in the door expanding into water, but it would make this sturdy door weak fast. Siege armies have sometimes used the same technique on gates."

Dariel furrowed his brow. "But there are only a few people in this town who can Invoke Flarow."

"Only three – the three Priests of my own Temple."

## Chapter 23

"Ah, young Master Ayrim, come in."

Father Reman Nigh sat at his desk, The Book of the Sea sitting open before him, with other books of commentary and such surrounding him – on bookshelves, the desk, and the floor. There was no other decoration in his office other than a chair for visitors and the copious tomes that littered every free inch of the tiny room. Many belonged to the Priest himself, but most had come from the library, taken out maybe years before to help research and never taken back. Priests were notorious for not returning borrowed books, and Nigh was no exception.

"Thank you, Father," Ayrim said, though he did not sit down. He stepped gingerly about the books, ending up on the opposite side of the second floor room, just shy of the window. "I was hoping to speak to you on a matter."

"Of, course, my son," Reman said, folding his hands and leaning back. "What is it?"

"I have been considering entering the Priesthood." It wasn't really a lie, but it felt like one. He really did consider the possibility, but that was not why he had come. He needed an excuse to get inside the room. Something that Father Nigh had once said to him was suddenly bothering him. The young man looked out of the window at the lake, seemingly in thought. This part of the Temple was outside the wall, of course, and so the window was cut very thin so that no invaders could hope to squeeze through. The southern wall of the temple, in turn, was made exceptionally thick, and at least a foot of wood stood between Ayrim and outside, so only positioning himself directly in front of the portal revealed any of the lake at all, and then very little of it. In the narrow slit he saw the misty water, and a few boats of fishermen and traders, but he was too far west to see the pier.

"It pleases me that you are considering it, Ayrim," said the Priest. "Flarow must be very pleased as well, for you have a quick mind, and a great faith."

"Thank you," Ayrim replied, the words like bile in his mouth. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he had to stay for a little while. He couldn't reveal how much he knew. Not knowing the rest of it.

"I would happily recommend you to the Academy, Ayrim. I know that the others here would as well."

"Yes, but the Academy is not really necessary, is it, Father?"

Nigh grinned darkly, or so Ayrim thought of his grin, now that he knew the truth. "No, when you are eighteen we could recommend you to study in a Temple directly, to learn as you work, but very few of those who do not attend the Academy ever become a Bishop or greater level, levels I believe you could reach. Six years is not a great amount of time, Ayrim, after which you will be stationed at a Temple as large as this one or larger. There is an Academy at Aeresan, if you wished to be near enough to Master Hyte to visit at times. I, of course, attended the one in Asylin, and even got to visit the Tower once."

Ayrim nodded, but he had not been listening. His head was spinning, simply being in the same room as this Priest.

Reman Nigh said, "Have you decided for certain on this path, my son?"

"Almost," Iylin replied. "I am growing closer, Father. It will be soon."

"Come by again when you decide, and I will make the recommendation."

Ayrim muttered his thanks and withdrew. With a heavy heart did he close the Priest's door, and Dariel appeared from the shadows of the hallway.

"Well?" the archer asked.

"It is him."

"Are you sure? How do you know?"

Ayrim walked down the stairs and out the front door before he spoke. They were coming out of the courtyard, flanked by stone images of Flarow. Even the sight of her was making Ayrim ill then. The taint of Remen Nigh had touched her, for he was a speaker for the goddess. Finally the swordsman said, "Father Nigh came to speak with me outside the port entrance once. He told me that he often saw my practices on the pier from his office. I have been in the room, but I never looked through the window before, and yet it occurred to me that his window does not really look over the docks, but leaned more to the west. I was right."

"Perhaps he saw you from somewhere else and made a mistake."

"He said he saw my morning practices, when he should be in his office. I don't expect a Priest to be in his office every moment of his assigned time, but he said he saw me 'often.' But it is likely true that he saw me elsewhere and made a mistake. I believe that he saw me from somewhere very much nearer. I do not believe that he was on the pier to speak to me, but for another purpose, and forsook that action when he saw that I was present. To cover that purpose, he pretended to have sought me there."

Sterwet shook his head. "You haven't seen enough to make such conclusions."

"No, I am not completely certain of his guilt yet. But it occurred to me that in the Battle of the Osilar Young, what I have read of it, no ern came from inside the city. If our traitor was around then, surely he would have brought some of the invaders within the wars before the battle started, as he is doing now, at least if he had been turned to their dark schemes by that time. But I don't think he was here then. I think it has been more recent. Of the three Priests, only Nigh was not in Saparen sixteen years ago. He has been here only four years, long enough to find a way to smuggle ern into the town."

"Not proof enough, but you may be right. Where are we going?"

"The pier."

Truly, Ayrim was leading his friend out of the lake gate of the town, where again the image of Flarow haunted him, and toward the water beneath the wooden dock. Once there, ignoring Dariel's further questions, he stripped down to his tunic, breeches, and sword, and leapt into the water.

"Oh, gods," cursed Sterwet, wondering if his friend had gone mad. It wasn't the first time he had thought such. After all, he had accompanied Ayrim on more than one occasion as he spent all day traveling between libraries to look up some minor point of theology or history.

Twice did Ayrim need to return to the surface for air, but he would not answer any questions yet, even as some of the guards from atop the wall began pointing and laughing. But on his third trip beneath the water, groping at the steep bank that had been created decades ago to allow heavier ships to sail nearer to the city, Ayrim found what he was seeking. It was an underwater tunnel, likely made from the Absence, that went inland beneath the Temple of Flarow.

## Chapter 24

"Come on," Ayrim said to Dariel. "There's a tunnel. That's how the ern are getting inside the town."

"We should get your father," Sterwet said as he was pulling off his boots. "We cannot go alone."

"It leads into my own Temple," growled Ayrim. He would not turn back now. He feared that his public divings had warned Nigh, and that any delay would allow him and his ern to escape. That could not happen. He needed to secure the secret entrance, and he could only do that from inside the Temple, since the other side of the tunnel was under water and therefore harder to control. The swordsman said, "Call the guards to follow, but I'm going now."

"My bow will be worthless after swimming through that tunnel with it."

"It'll work well enough. Besides, we're only going to see where it leads. We'll wait for the Thanes to go deeper into the Temple. They won't be right inside. They'll have another place to hide that's not so obvious." It seemed reasonable enough, and he only hoped it was true.

"Fine," Dariel said, and he scurried across the pier to some of the guards. They were at the gate, and though they wore nothing that identified their division, Ayrim knew they were part of the First Rank. The way they stood told the truth well enough. The First Rank stood just a little straighter than the others. Sterwet told them, "Call the Thanes and the spearmen. Tell Gerill Hyte that Ayrim says to guard the entrance of Flarow's Temple and then follow us down. There's a passage under the water."

Some of the soldiers thought it a joke, and they laughed harder, but others believed him, and set off on their new mission. Gerill would believe. If Ayrim had gone to the trouble to send spearmen, Hyte would believe. The guards would too when the tunnel was discovered by others. Within an hour the Temple would be surrounded, and they would uncover whatever truth awaited them. Part of Ayrim still hoped that it wasn't Reman Nigh, but he knew that it was. The clergyman had pretended to be a spiritual advisor for Ayrim, all the while looking for opportunities to have him killed. Was that why he wanted Ayrim to go to the Academy? The journey to Aeresan Castle would take weeks – plenty of time for an ern attack. Of course, he wouldn't do it himself. He would know that Ayrim would almost certainly win that confrontation, even if surprised. He could just provide the circumstances where it might be done. Wading in the water, Iylin almost wept. As hardened as he sought to be, as stoic as the First Rank or better, there was something welling in him, and he wasn't sure whether it was fear, despair, or vengeance.

"We're ready," said Dariel as he returned, and with him came two spearmen from the wall. "I thought we might need them."

Ayrim nodded in consent. He wanted to pretend that they wouldn't need the guards, that they would only secure the tunnel and wait for the Thanes, but he worried that Nigh was already planning a defense. Maybe he was already gone. Maybe. They couldn't wait any longer.

The soldiers stripped off their leather uniforms and jumped into the water with only white shirts and breeches, but spears wielded. Iylin was glad he had his sheath, so he wouldn't need to hold his weapon as he swam like the others. Sterwet had to tie his quiver closed so that his arrows wouldn't drift off, and he carried his unstrung bow. Soon the four men were in the water, and they joined hands, for seeing was difficult in the murky and dark lake. At last, Ayrim dived down, and the other three men were with him.

Down they went only a couple of yards before they turned toward the bank. Ayrim needed a moment to find the tunnel again, but he did, and they set off, under the Temple of Flarow. It was only then that Iylin worried about the length of the underwater tunnel. He had no idea how long ern could hold their breath, and so the passage into the city might very well require a ten minute swim. And yet, after only a minute did a faint glow appear above them – a light source from above the water, though Ayrim could not yet tell if it be sun or lamp.

The swordsman ascended, and none too soon, for his lungs were beginning to burn for air. He would have made it much sooner had he not needed to drag three men behind him, but they had made it just the same, and so Ayrim rose, and his head peaked from the water, and air flowed into his lungs.

He did not recognize the room, but the design of the stone floor was consistent with the rest of the Temple of Flarow, and so he assumed he was inside that very building. He emerged from a hole carved of the ground, square, but large enough that all four soldiers could come up together. They were in a storage room, filled with boxes and barrels, piles of them stored randomly within the room. The Flaran Priests were famous for their mead and ale, and Ayrim saw several barrels of various drinks on the far end of the room, set against the wall. There was only once exit, straight ahead, and a single lamp set atop one of the boxes illuminated the room.

"We were expected," Ayrim said, drawing his dripping sword. "The lamp is lit."

"Should we retreat?" asked a spearman.

"No time. They would attack us while we're trying to swim away. We must stand on equal ground."

And so the swordsman climbed from the watery hole, his sword clanking against the stone floor. It would be a slippery battlefield, especially without his boots, but it would have to do. Their enemies would not simply allow them to leave, and if the swordsman attempted an escape through the water, a few well-placed arrows would dispatch the entire group in moments. There would be no retreat.

The attack was not long in coming, and as soon as Ayrim was upright was the ern upon him, appearing from between some of the crates with an axe in its hand. Iylin swung around to meet the beast, and the clang that came at the meeting of their weapons bounced off the wooden walls a few times before it died. If the ern, in that moment, face to face with Ayrim Iylin, had been intelligent enough to read his enemy's face, he would have seen not fear or nervousness in the human. In the unwavering eyes of Ayrim, he would have seen no weakness at all, but focused rage, a Holy rage, and no small part of the spirit of Cynus Branford.

With much of Branford's third Exercise and a touch of his eighty-fifth, Ayrim pushed the axe away, drew the ern's attention left with the tip of his blade, just long enough for the thing to move its axe out of position, then drove in the opposite direction. Before the ern could bring his weapon back, both its throat and belly had been split open, and the corpse fell into the water. Dariel and one of the spearmen still remained in that hole, but they were quick in leaving when the ern fell in with them. The water grew misty with pale blood.

"Down!" called one of the spearmen, the first one from the water, and Ayrim dove to the ground as he heard the snap of a bowstring. The arrow missed him by inches, but far enough, and Iylin slid upon the slippery ground until he was behind one of the barrels. The arrows followed him, and two thunked into the barrier, spilling mead onto the ground. Out came the other two men, and the four spread out over the room, defending their half from the ern on the other side. At least five there were, one with a bow, but they hid as well as the men did.

Dariel's bow was strung in a couple of moments, but his arrows were wet, and the first shot went well wide of the ern archer. Three more he let fly, keeping the enemy down long enough for Ayrim to move forward a few steps. He crouched below a large crate and wiped the water from his eyes.

Up came the ern archer, his arrow trained on Iylin, but so too did Sterwet rise, and the ern only got one more chance. The opportunity was squandered as his missile embedded itself into a box near Ayrim, and the ern fell with an arrow in its skull. Forward did the men come, no longer held by the ranged attack. At last the ern came from their places of hiding, and they numbered ten.

The spears of the castle guards were longer than the axes and swords of the ern, and they struck first, each driving his weapon into an enemy, but the other monsters were upon them then. They seemed to come from the walls themselves, converging upon the two men. Dariel fired as quickly as possible, but his damp arrows allowed him only to slay one more. The first spearman twirled his weapon around, sweeping up ern in its path, but it only gave them time, for not an enemy did he slay in that manner.

But Ayrim was soon in the fray, and his blade swept into the nearest ern. It fell without a sound, and Iylin was already passed, his sword flashing in the dim light of a single lamp. An ern armed with a blade turned to the human, but only managed to block twice before Ayrim's quick sword found its way into the ern's shoulder. In that blow was the abomination disarmed, but Iylin struck once more, thrusting the blade through the pale chest of the ern.

"Kill them!" came a call, and Ayrim recognized the voice.

None had noticed before, but Reman Nigh was there, standing behind a stack of crates, a sword wavering in his hand. His eyes were wide with what was happening, but he did not flee. He was confident in his ern, even though more than half had already fallen.

Yet the battle was not yet over, and the two spearmen, as near as Ayrim had come, were holding back the mass of the ern alone. A wide swipe by one had given them a second to group together, but no longer, and the ern had come back, weapons gleaming. In the shadows did one man lose sight of the enemy, and his spear was turned aside. With a swipe of an axe was red blood spilled. The other spearman tried to intercept the blow, but his foot slipped too much, and his spear missed. Again he turned, and this time impaling the attacking ern, but he was too late, and his side lost one man.

The ern thought to come upon the breach in the lines, but Ayrim filled in quickly, leaping off the top of the one of the boxes and into the melee. His quick blade struck once before he reached the ground, and the remaining ern stepped back in surprise as another of their allies fell. When his feet touched the ground, Iylin did not pause, even as his feet began to slide, but he spun completely around, his sword lost to the ern in the blur of the fighting human, at least until it appeared, as though by Magic, through the heart of one of the ern. It was only then that he came to a stop, not once falling too much to lose control. That had been Exercise one hundred – the most advanced of them all. Ayrim fluidly drew out his blade and struck once more, this time decapitating a horrified beast. The last two seemed incapable of even movement, and they watched their companions fall, seemingly without effort. The first of the pair was cut down by an arrow, and the last by a spear.

Finally did Father Reman Nigh come, his own sword high above his head. He yelled as he brought it down, but the untrained clergyman had no chance against Ayrim. The blow was turned aside, and caused such a ringing in Nigh's blade that he recoiled. With a swipe Iylin knocked the weapon from his hand, and another motion brought the tip of the blade against the Priest's neck.

Reman fell back unceremoniously upon the floor, and Ayrim was not a second behind. Again was the sword against Nigh's neck, and Ayrim stared down coldly.

"Why?" was all he asked.

The Father wasn't breathing. He was transfixed by the sword. So Iylin asked again, saying, "Why did you forsake Flarow for the Absence?"

And Nigh laughed. "Forsake Flarow? Forsake Flarow? You fool boy. It was Flarow who ordered your death. Flarow and Vid have joined forces. I've forsaken no one."

Ayrim Iylin was the one to recoil then, and the clergyman leaned back, holding aloft a hand and muttering something. The swordsman stepped forward then, reaching out to his Priest, but liquid was spilling from Reman's mouth. At first it seemed like blood, but the stuff was too clear and thin. It was water.

The body of the Priest collapsed, and Ayrim placed a hand against Nigh's chest. The man was dead. He had Invoked Flarow to expand the water inside himself until he had drowned.

Like Drel Tyal, Reman Nigh had Invoked his own death.

## Chapter 25

The Thanes were there but a few minutes later, and then came townsmen from all of the dens. News of a traitor Priest spread quickly through the large city, and everyone wanted to see. But the Thanes would not bring out the bodies yet. They arrested the other Priests, simply to keep them from Ayrim until the truth was revealed to everyone, but Priests from the other temples were allowed inside.

"You should have come for me first," Gerill Hyte said as he embraced Ayrim.

"Nigh knew I was coming," the boy explained. "He would have escaped unless we caught them there."

"Better he escapes than you be in danger," the Thane said as a father will of his son. "I am glad you are unhurt. I am also glad you found out Nigh, but it is no excuse."

"I know," Ayrim said, still looking at the body of the man he had killed. A human, a Priest. _His_ Priest. "I am sorry. It was foolish."

"Ayrim, are you here?" came a voice from the door. It was Father Josite from the Temple of Serren, being led by one of Tianon's Priests.

"I am here, Father," the swordsman said, coming to the door.

"Thank the gods," Rignslin said, embracing Iylin. "The news, it was so shocking to all of us. A Priest of Flarow turning from the Six as he did."

"Did he?" wondered Ayrim aloud.

"What do you mean?"

Ayrim bit his lip, but said, "He said that Flarow had ordered my death."

"That is ridiculous."

"But he Invoked. How could he have Invoked without the blessing of the goddess?"

Josite furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. At last the words came He took Iylin by the arm and said, "I cannot give you those answers, Ayrim. I do not understand yet myself. But it is nonsense that the gods wish you dead. For what purpose would they wish this? For what purpose might Flarow align herself with Vid? Flarow would not send ern against one of her faithful. It makes no sense."

"I know."

"My son, you know the stories of the Battle of the Osilar Young, no?"

"I do."

"Do they not tell of the Priests of this town Invoking in defense of the humans? I was there, remember. I Invoked Serren's Healing power to save several lives that day."

"I remember."

"They Invoked in defense of you, Ayrim. Do you not see that? The war was fought in defense of you and the others born on the eighth of Osilar, the year 8704. Against the ern we fought, against the Absence."

"Yes."

"Those Invocations needed the blessing of the gods as well, but that time they were used in your defense. They do not wish you dead, Ayrim. The war clearly shows that they will fight for your life, just as we did."

The swordsman said nothing.

The Priest was frowning hard, and it seemed as though he was feeling real pain. "Ayrim, don't turn from them. Too great is your faith to have it stomped out by this one man who forsook the Six. Flarow would never aid the ern. Never! Neither would she help Reman Nigh to bring the ern into this city. He followed Vid, not Flarow, on this day. As for Nigh's Invocation, I cannot yet say. There is a higher purpose in this, you must know that. We cannot yet see it, but the gods know, Ayrim. The gods know, and they are with you."

Iylin closed his eyes, truly torn in the matter. Everything he had learned was that only by the greatest of Faith can Priests Invoke, and yet Flarow had come to an ally of Vid. It made no sense. But he said, "I understand, Father."

"Is it over?" asked Dariel Sterwet, sitting in the corner as far from the dead ern as he could be. "Have the ern been defeated in Saparen?"

"As long as the Prophets of the Flame and of the Wind are undiscovered," Gerill Hyte said, "it will never end. But if we are to believe Drel Tyar, then Vid already knows where those Prophets are, and he is moving now to destroy them."

"And yet," Ayrim said, "Nigh still brought ern into the city. If he had truly turned to the Absence, if he had orders from Vid, then surely he would know where the two Prophets were."

"I don't understand," said Dariel.

"So if the locations of the Prophets were revealed to Reman Nigh, and he still needed to bring ern into the city, then it is probable that he did so because at least one of the new Wizards lives inside the walls of Saparen. Our troubles with the ern will not stop until someone finds him."

#### The End

#### Book II of

#### THE EIGHTH POWER

Coming in June 2013 . . .

###  

### Book III

### The Book of the Flame

The war against Fahlin has gone badly, and the castles that once protected the kingdom of Aeresan against the ern now stand unmanned. The wicked ern are flowing into the land unhindered, and they are anxious to renew their search for the new Prophets. It is only a matter of time before they can mount another attack against the city of Saparen, and this time Saparen will have no reinforcements to protect them.

Ayrim Iylin, now a Thane of Saparen, must seek one of only two people in the world who can possibly save them – one of the two Prophets that have now been hidden over twenty years. And if one of those men cannot be found, the city will surely fall.

_The Eighth Power_ continues as the Void's dark power begins to reassert itself in Aeresan, and the search for the missing Prophets becomes desperate if anything is to be saved.

#### Keep checking for new books,

#### as a new volume will appear every month throughout 2013!

# About the Author

Paul Lytle lives and works in Houston, where he lives with his wife, Josie, and his (at the time of the writing of this bio) two week old son. He can be found online at http://www.paullytle.com or on Twitter as @Calvinistnerd. He also writes for and edits the online magazine Primum Mobile at http://www.primum-mobile.net.

# Appendix A – The Dynasties of Aeresan

Before the Death Wars, there was a kingdom whose name is long forgotten, but that the Castle of Aeresan housed its king is well-documented. After the Death Wars, Aeresan became the central city to a new Kingdom, and that Kingdom was, in turn named after the castle. The Kingdom of Aeresan has existed since the Wars, though to varying degrees of strength and size. During those four thousand years, many different families or groups ruled the kingdom.

###### 4700?-4725?: Death Wars

###### 4725?-4835?: Arinsore Dynasty. Aeresan remained a small kingdom, but one relatively at peace, for they were far from the rising ern threat to the east. The reason for their fall is unknown. A notable ruler from this family was Sarn, the second in the line of Arinsore Kings.

###### 4835?-4860?: Tryl Dynasty. A great famine swept over Aeresan (and the entire continent), but the Tryl family kept control by blaming the Prophets for their problems. The Prophets actually did become the cause for the family when they invaded Aeresan and took control of the castle.

###### 4860?-4871: Rule of the Wizards. A very oppressive rule, especially in the ways of religion. Overthrown by revolution, and the people never really trusted the Prophets again. Construction on the Last Stand was begun.

###### 4871-6117: Jonat Dynasty. Though long-lived and well-respected, the Jonat family ruled with force, and their wars in the wake of the disaster of the Prophets' rule caused more than half of the continent to fall under Aeresan control. The Tower was built in these years, and the Last Stand was finished. A Prophet was born into the royal family, and the King used that Mage in his wars, only to pretend to have been oblivious to the boy's talents once the people found out. Taxes grew increasingly higher until many of the lords ceased their support of the throne. The family fell soon after.

###### 6117-6357: Elected Kings. The lords decided to run the kingdom by an elected council, but that council began voting on kings to rule until death, when another king would be chosen. In 6357, Rylan Kamuna was chosen, and though the pretense of an elected monarch lasted until his death, it was then that the next Dynasty began.

###### 6357-6858: Kamuna Dynasty. At his death, Rylan illegally declared his son king, but most people had liked the first Kamuna, and so no one protested very loudly. The latter kings were not as successful as Rylan, however, and much land was lost in these years. The dynasty ended in war with a neighboring kingdom, when the king, still without heir, died in battle.

###### 6858-6915: Various. War between the Barons for the throne gave Aeresan too many kings to list, and few who lived long enough to be worth the effort. The people found their taxes changing monthly, or sometimes weekly, and laws changed almost as quickly. Order was restored by Baron Trosalan, whose army gathered much support simply for stability's sake.

###### 6915-present: Trosalan Dynasty. The longest lived of the ruling families, the Trosalans are also considered the best, though several of the kings within have been failures. Still, for almost two thousand years Aeresan has grown and found some degree of prosperity.

# Appendix B – The Post-Wars Calendar

Before the Death Wars, the world used a twelve-month calendar, each month consisting of thirty days, save only a couple of months late in the year, one taking thirty-one days, and the other twenty-nine. The calendar held eight days, six named after the Gods, and then two generic days, the first being Sun Day, a Holy Day recognized by nearly all religions, springing from the tradition on the Six, where Sun Day is a day of worship for all gods as one, and Last Day, which is a day of rest.

The Death Wars did not destroy the calendar, for evidence of its months and days linger still, but in the wake of such destruction was it not important any longer. Only scholars really kept track of the years anyway, for the people cared more about the seasons, whether it be time to reap or so, than the years. The days of the week remained, for even those who did not follow the Six generally observed Last Day as a time to rest, and Sun Day as a day to worship.

For over a century there was no set calendar to unite the kingdoms. Each country had its own way of counting the years, for a King was likely to declare his ascension to the throne as Year 1, or some great battle as the start of the calendar, but even these year numbers were not strictly adhered to, and even the King's court in various lands would get confused on the year.

The months were worse, for they changed in name almost every year. A new ruler would declare new month names, normally after himself and other respectable Kings, but he would, sometimes on a yearly basis, add days to his own month. Sometimes he would take those days from the months of others, and sometimes he would just invent them. There was the case of one King in the Arinsore family whose own month consisted of one-hundred and seventy or more days. Unfortunately, none of those days were subtracted from the other months, and so the year, that time, began in Spring, went through the next Spring and into a second Summer.

All of which just confused the issue further.

Near the beginning of the Jonat Dynasty, Tianist monks began an intensive study of the calender, and discovered that, by the reckoning of the pre-Wars world, they were in the middle of the year 4896. To simplify matters all over the world, they planned to return the people to that calendar, but the Kings were hesitant. They had their own months, with their own names upon them, and had no interest in changing everything just for monks.

And so the Tianist decided that it was more important to establish a unified calendar than revive the old one completely, and so they went to the powerful Kings, which were six in number, and declared that they would name a month after each of them. And since this calendar would be permanent, a new King would not simply take the names of these men off at a later date.

This appealed greatly to the Kings, who unanimously agreed to use the calendar. The other six months would be named for a great Prophet from each of the six Gods.

The year began with Morilyr, and though Morilyr was known to be a King, it is forgotten what kingdom he ruled, only that it was north of what became Norser. Trel was named for Trel Jonat of Aeresan, and Farselar was a King in Fahl, which eventually became Fahlin. Of the Summer months, Mar ruled, according to legend, Ilespin, which is noted for its heat and humidity, but there is no historical record of what he ruled, and more than likely the rumor was begun because of the month Mar's tendency to be humid. Apir lead a kingdom called Laringar, which would be conquered only three years later by Fahl. Jenta was a tribal leader who had united the mountain people, and though it was no kingdom, but rather a loose alliance between families, his power was enough that he was added to the calendar.

The three months of Autumn and those of Winter were named for Prophets. Sepilar was the Tianist who supervised the construction of the Tower, while Osilar created the fountains inside the walls with his Flaran powers. They were the latest Prophets on the list, for Eith and Tunar, the next two, held their positions very soon after the Death Wars, and what they had done to make them worthy of such an honor is long forgotten. One was a Prophet of Serren, and the other or Ignar, though even that is only known because the other four Gods are represented by other names, and so these two must represent the others. Caras was a Prophet of the Whesler who began construction of an academy in Teddyn, a Castle in Fahl. Both the castle and the school were razed in 5705. Lastly, the Tarist Falinar was a Prophet who sacrificed himself to hold an army of ern away from a settlement on the west bank of Fahl. He lasted so long against them that the women and children had enough time to get away, but the men were slain when they went to reinforce the Mage.

Since the year ran 360 days, and the week was eight days, the calendar fit evenly within the weeks, and therefore would the first day of Morilyr, which was the first day of Spring and the first day of the year, always fall on a Sun Day. Mar first, which began the hot Summer months, fell upon Ignar's Day, for the flame was the symbol of the season; Sepilar first, the start of a cooler Autumn, was represented by the sea, and was always on Flarow's Day. Finally Tarite's Day, Death's Day, began Winter on the first day of Tunar.

The calendar is maintained for no other reason than that the Tianist monks like it. Since they are the primary record-keepers of the world, nearly all histories use the months and years described here. But still only scholars really have need of such a calendar, for the peasants still mark passing time by the seasons rather than numbered days.

# Appendix C – A Glossary of Names and Places

###### Aeresan (AIR-ih-sahn): The easternmost kingdom in the known world, also the castle that controls the kingdom.

###### Asylin (AS-ih-lihn): One of the three castles of the Last Stand.

###### Ayrim Iylin: see Iylin, Ayrim.

###### Branford, Cynus (BRAN-ford, SIE-nus): A great swordsman during the time of the Elected Kings. Wrote the text book The Branford Method, a series of one hundred complex Exercises, which is still used to teach swordplay.

###### Cerinal Sea (SEHR-ih-nahl): The western sea that divides the human lands and the ern lands.

###### Dariel Sterwet: see Sterwet, Dariel.

###### Draffor (DRAHF-for): Current Lord of Lanshire, Aeresan.

###### Drins (drihns): A family in Lanshire, Ignists.

###### Drynor, Santon (DRY-nor, SAN-ton): Current Prophet of the Earth.

###### Ern: Evil creatures thought to have been created by the Absence. They seem human except for their pale skin, lack of hair, and sharp claws and teeth.

###### Eysentgath, Larras (EYES-ihn-gahth, LARE-rehs): Current Prophet of the Wind.

###### Fahlin (FAH-lihn): A nation on the southern side of the continent, west of Aeresan. Its citizens are Fahlians (FAH-lee-ihns).

###### Finea (fih-NAY-ah): A city in the Saparen Barony of Aeresan.

###### Flarow (FLAH-row): The Goddess of the Sea, created by Tarite before the world began. She is depicted as a blue woman with flowing hair carrying a mirror. Her Virtue is her strong Moral Sense, her Vice Vanity. Ignar is her opposite. Her followers are known as Flarans (FLARE-ihns), and are recognized for their constant self-examination.

###### Garrenmore (GAIR-ihn-more): A castle in Aeresan.

###### Gerill Hyte: see Hyte, Gerill.

###### Haden (HAY-dihn): Owns The Crimson Veil in Saparen, Aeresan.

###### Halin (HALE-ihn): A figure in mythology who went into the Otherworld to plead from Serren the life of his lover, a wish that was granted.

###### Hesril (HEZ-rihl): A Priest of Tarite in Saparen, Aeresan.

###### Hyte, Gerill (HITE, JARE-ihl): A Thane of Saparen, Aeresan, teaches swordplay. Adoptive father of Ayrim Iylin. A Flaran.

###### Ignar (IHG-NAHR): The God of the Flame, created by Serren before the world began. He is depicted as a large and red man carrying the Sword of Justice. His Virtue is Justice, his Vice Extremism. Flarow is his opposite. His followers are known as Ignists (IHG-NIHSTS), and are recognized for their sense of Righteous anger.

###### Iylin, Ayrim (eye-IHL-ihn, EYE-rihm): Born of Barrin and Josette Iylin in Lanshire, Aeresan, on 8 Osilar 8704, raised by Gerill Hyte. His name means "Someone who sacrifices."

###### Iylin, Barrin (eye-IHL-ihn, BARE-ihn): A farmer from Lanshire, Aeresan. Husband of Josette Iylin, father of Ayrim Iylin. A Serrenite. Died in the Battle of the Osilar Young.

###### Iylin, Josette (eye-IHL-ihn, JOE-SEHT): Wife of Barrin Iylin, mother of Ayrim Iylin. Died in childbirth.

###### Jeslin (JES-lihn): A servant of Gerill Hyte.

###### Josite, Rignslin (JOE-SITE, RINES-lihn): A Priest of Serren at the Temple in Saparen, Aeresan.

###### Kert (kurt): A city in the Saparen Barony of Aeresan.

###### Lanshire (LAN-shur): A village in the Saparen Barony of Aeresan.

###### Last Stand, The: A series of three castles on the Teriam River, built so close together as to control all traffic over the river.

###### Morylin (MORE-ih-lihn): One of the three castles of the Last Stand.

###### Mute: The nickname given to a shrouded figure, seemingly aligned with the ern.

###### Nigh, Remen (NIGH, REE-mihn): A Priest of Flarow in Saparen, Aeresan.

###### Rignslin Josite: see Josite, Rignslin.

###### Saparen (SAH-pah-rihn): A castle in Aeresan, also the barony surrounding the castle. People from Saparen are "Saparians" (sah-PAIR-ee-ihns).

###### Sarn: The second King in the Arinsore dynasty, killed in an early battle against the ern.

###### Satyrin (SAHT-ih-rihn): One of the three castles of the Last Stand.

###### Serren (SAIR-rihn): The Goddess of the Living and Spiritual elements, she was neither born nor created, but always was. She is depicted as a common woman with light hair and skin, or as the sun itself. Her Virtue is Faith, her Vice Complacency. Tarite is her opposite. Her followers are known as Serrenites (SAIR-ihn-ites), and are recognized for their absolute trust in the Six.

###### Sterwet, Dariel (STEHR-WEHT, DAIR-ee-ehl): An archer employed by Saparen, Aeresan, born in the year 8702. A Whesleran.

###### Tarite (TAIR-ITE): The God of the Dead and Physical elements, he was neither born nor created, but always was. He is depicted as an ugly man, dressed in black, with a hood commonly over his face, or as the moon itself. Her Virtue is Self-Reliance, his Vice Skepticism. Serren is his opposite. His followers are known as Tarist (TAIR-ihsts), and are recognized for their work ethic.

###### Tarrit Lake (TAIR-iht): A lake that borders Saparen.

###### Teriam River (TAIR-ee-um): The river that divides Aeresan and Fahlin, upon which is the Last Stand castles.

###### Tianon (TEE-ah-nahn): The God of the Earth, created by Tarite before the world began. He is depicted as a huge and slow man or dark skin with either a hammer or a book. His Virtue is Knowledge, his Vice Greed. Whesler is his opposite. His followers are known as Tianans (TEE-ah-nahns), and are recognized for their desire to learn.

###### Trosalan, Regis (TROS-ah-lin, REE-jis): Current King of Aeresan. An Ignist.

###### Tsantle, Baret (SANT'l, BARE-eht): Current Prophet of the Flame.

###### Tyar, Drel (TIE-ahr, DREHL): A criminal suspected of dealings with the Absence.

###### Verios, Dravin (VARE-ee-ose, DRAHV-ihn): Son of Dravor Verios and heir to the Saparen Barony in Aeresan. An Ignist.

###### Verios, Dravor (VARE-ee-ose, DRAHV-or): Current Baron over Saparen, Aeresan. An Ignist.

###### Vid (VIHD): The Absence. Created by an absence of the Gods. He is everywhere the Six are not, and works against them to destroy the world.

###### Whesler (WHEEZ-lehr): The Goddess of the Wind, created by Serren before the world began. She is depicted as a whispy figure, unsubstantial in every way. Her hands are either outstretched or carrying a bow. Her Virtue is Charity, her Vice Ignorance. Tianon is her opposite. Her followers are known as Wheslerans (WHEEZ-lehr-ans), and are recognized for their generous spirit.

###### Wyred (WIE-rehd): Current Lord of Kert, Aeresan.

###### Xyn, Draughton (ZINE, DRAH-ton): Current Prophet of the Absence.

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