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

by Paul Lytle

  To the east of the Last Stand were crowded most of the men in the world, and they faced the ern least of all, so well did the defenses of the Last Stand hold. Minor attacks from small bands were common enough, but never before had the ern been able to form such an army in the east as the one that were preparing to descend upon Saparen. And yet, in the Summer of the year 8705, the ern had accomplished what had been thought impossible.

  Master Gerill Hyte had been right – several from Flarow’s Den came to the Baron with concerns over the coming battle. Surrender the few children and save the many, they suggested, knowing that such an Ignist as Verios would never concede. They looked to the logical Tianans for support, but none was coming. The followers of the Earth God knew well enough that the ern did not negotiate peace. History had taught that lesson very well. No, they knew that war was coming, and they would support the Baron.

  So too did the people of Ignar’s Den wish to help. They found whatever weapons they could, whether swords, bows, or merely shovels, and asked for positions at the wall. They wished to stand with their neighbors.

  Of Serren’s followers, most prayed and waited. The will of the gods would be done, they understood, and nothing they could do would change it. Many from other dens suggested that the gods were willing them to fight, but the Serrenites simply smiled and replied that if they were meant to fight, they could not stop themselves.

  Which was exactly why most military leaders loathed Serrenites.

  Tarite’s few worshipers, on the other hand, believed that they would have to make their own fate, and they took up arms with the soldiers. And that was exactly why military leaders wished more people would follow Tarite.

  Not all of the Baron’s supporters would take up arms. Tianans generally worked out strategy rather than took weapons unto themselves, and Wheslerans were prepared to give all they had in support of the warriors, but few readily volunteered to stand up and fight. But if the ern were able to breach the walls, few would have a choice. They would fight, or they would die.

  As for Barrin Iylin, he found truth in what Gerill had said about his bravery. Others of the faith of Serren might stand and wait for destiny to happen, but he would not. He had discarded the tainted ern blade he had used to escape Lanshire, but he asked Gerill for another, and the sword was readily given. He would stand with the Ignists when the ern came. He could do nothing else, for all these men were ready to die for his son.

  Chapter 22

  As was common for most ern attacks, the charge came first at night, and there was no reserve held back for later reinforcements, or a portion set aside to flank the enemy, but they came quickly and as one. They were heard long before they were seen in the darkness of the plain, and their feral noises at first dissolved into the night sounds, only faintly present over the crickets. It was enough for Saparen’s guard, however, for they recognized what they heard. The Thanes and soldiers were roused and ordered into position, and so too did Barrin Iylin, along with hundreds of other peasants, arm himself and stand alongside the Baron’s men.

  The taunts and yells of the ern, by then, dominated the evening. They were coming from the southeast – the weakest point in the castle’s defenses. Only by the southeast would the coming army not have to cross water, either lake or river. Only from there could they charge in without obstacle, save only the city walls themselves.

  The ern carried no torches, and yet light could be seen within their numbers. There were men there as well, the Saparians upon the wall realized, just as there had been in Lanshire. Some dark alliance had brought the forces together. The very thought made Iylin ill. He was used to ern attacks. There was nothing surprising about bloodlust amongst ern. But why humans had allied themselves with the most evil creature the world had yet produced, Barrin could not imagine. The very thought was blasphemous.

  The very thought was inhuman.

  At first sight, the archers fired, and the battle had begun. Saparen had two major advantages over the ern. First was the town itself, for the enemy would have no wall for protection, while Saparen’s walls would hold back the ern for some time. Second was the archers. Though the ern did have ranged weapons, the creatures found their use distasteful, and shied away from them. Ern wanted to smell the blood, to see the dead closely, to feel the blade as it pierced skin. To them, that was the real pleasure in war. They would charge the wall rather than fire against it, and while that charge was underway, the men had the upper hand.

  And so the first wave of arrows was unanswered except for the few screams as the missiles were rained down upon the enemy. “Again,” ordered the army commanders, and another storm came upon the ern, and more of their number fell. This time there was response, and black arrows were fired against Saparen, though, predictably, they were few in number. Still, out of the darkness they came, and they were spotted too late, for the archers had not taken cover. Down from the narrow catwalk upon the wall did soldiers fall, and their blood splattered against those who waited inside, feeling as a warm rain at first, though there came a dawning horror as those within realized what had fallen upon their faces.

  The ern came hard, and by the time the third attack from the archers had been laid, there was a great thump upon the wooden walls. The ern had arrived, and their misleadingly thin bodies were being thrown upon the defenses. The sound had its desired effect, for there came from within the town a great gasp and fear. Terror was as great a weapon in war as a sword or bow, and it was the one weapon the ern mastered above all others. The hands of archers quaked, and arrows were misled. The spears and swords of soldiers quivered, and they would not be as effective. Amongst the spearmen there were tears and wails, and the sounds seemed as dark as the night. It was the sound of the Absence, and fear grew, for where there was Vid to aid the ern, there was no god to help the men.

  There seemed a moment of peace then, but silence boiled into the awful sounds of war and death. The archers kept up their attacks, but they were suddenly joined by the spearmen and Thanes, desperately trying to keep the ern from climbing up the walls. Both sides surged toward the wooden barrier that parted them, each hoping to hold position while pushing its foe back. At best it was a stalemate, for both sides held well enough, and pale and red blood alike flowed darkly in the night.

  The gate rattled in the darkness, bouncing inward for a brief moment. Barrin Iylin found that he had been holding his breath as he looked upon the entrance of the town by the light of faint torches and lamps. It was the weakest point of the wall, and archers and Thanes alike flanked it in great numbers to reinforce the position. Yet the archers were firing, and the Thanes hacking downward with their swords, and still the wall rocked under the weight of the coming horde.

  From where Barrin stood, inside the curtain, all he could see were allies. But they were falling quickly, collapsing inward, their faces and bodies mauled and ugly, and the corpses were already lying about as though the siege had already taken days. The farmer licked his lips, desperate to do something, to know what was happening. How many amongst the enemy had fallen? How many were left? Based on the way the wall was moving, he thought a great many of them had to be still alive. It was terrible – the shaking of the wooden walls and the squealing that it made.

  And then it happened. One of the ern successfully crossed over the wall, and inward it charged, hoping to make a hole in the line of warriors there. It seemed to simply appear on the wallwalk, its axe wet of human blood. The army moved in upon it, but that slight breach in the defenses had been enough, and several of the beasts were climbing over the wooden barrier. The town surged in response.

  Barrin found himself joining the charge, found himself yelling in Justice or revenge, though he could not tell which in that moment. But upon the wall he came, along with several score others, filling in the gaps where others had fallen. He felt warm blood on his face, heard the stinging of swords and axes, but he would not be held back. Forward he pushed
, through his own allies, until he was on the ladder that led upon the wall. Above him the Thanes were holding back the ern, keeping them from that same ladder, but many had ascended.

  Some of the beasts had leapt into the town from the catwalk, and there they flailed about desperately, knowing that they would soon be overcome. Overcome they were, but at a heavy price, and several men were there slain. Their bodies fell amongst the others, and the streets were red under the flickering torches in the night.

  Forward again, and Barrin Iylin was upon the wall, hacking over the side at the coming ern. Some carried ladders to get high enough to fight, but others used their claws or climbed over their fallen brethren. They cackled and hissed as they came, their tongues wagging in bloodlust. They came with such ferocity that Barrin wished to recoil, and yet forced himself forward. He leaned over the edge and hacked almost aimlessly. The farmer struck one ern with every three blows, and soon his blade was wet like so many others.

  From his position there, he saw over the sea of monsters that advanced against him. The white heads seemed without bodies there, floating in toward the castle eerily. Also were there humans, yes, but they lingered at the back of the army. They could not add to the terror that gripped Iylin in that moment. They had come for him. Or, actually, for his son and a handful of others, but the relationship was near enough for the fear to become personal. All that force for little children. What did they want with the new Prophets? What would drive them to attack Saparen for the remote possibility of finding one of the Mages?

  A sudden surge in the enemy lines brought Barrin’s roaming thoughts back to the battle, for this was not a movement he expected. The ern by the gate were backing away. And yet it did not seem like a retreat, for still they yelled for blood. Still they drooled at the thought of battle. But this small section had moved, and not in a direction consistent with their strategy so far.

  And Iylin watched as, without force against it, the gate simply collapsed. There was no cause for it, for the ern had not damaged the doors that much. It was more that the wood simply fell apart.

  Someone beside Barrin witnessed the event as well, and he had a name for what had happened. He said, “Magic!”

  Chapter 23

  Barrin found himself standing straight, exposed, as he stared blankly at the fallen gate, and yet he could not force himself to duck down. He tried to move, but he was frozen by the terror of the coming white sea. Black arrows spit against the wall below him – thunk, thunk, thunk – and Iylin at last retreated down below the shallow battlements, the sound ripping him from his nightmare, as though the truth of the moment wasn’t nightmarish enough. The attack had been close, and yet they would grow nearer still, for the ern were spilling through the open gate as the humans rushed forth to block the breach.

  Ern were relentless warriors, and even without adequate ranged weapons, they still posed a terrible threat to Saparen. With the wall intact, the outcome had been questionable, but the wall had fallen under a Magic thought impossible. They had Invoked the Absence, Barrin knew. They had Invoked Vid. It might have been Earth Magic, of course, or even Wind, that tore apart the wall, but the farmer knew the truth, for he had faced it before. It was the Absence that opened the breach, just as the Absence tears apart everything it can grasp. And yes, the Absence had power over bows and swords and catapults as well.

  The beast was almost upon him before Iylin even realized it had climbed the wall. Upon the wallwalk it came, axe bared, and Barrin lifted his sword only just in time. He could feel the presence of iron against his cheek as he tried to push the blade away, but the ern was strong. It chuckled, its rotted teeth dark in its mouth.

  Thunk, the arrow struck, and the axe withdrew. The missile had been fired from within the town, though Barrin would never know who let it loose. In war, it was often random attacks that saved lives, so he didn’t even know if the arrow was meant to rescue him or if it had been chance. It had struck the beast in the leg – not a serious wound, but it would be enough. The ern pulled back his axe in pain, and Barrin was no longer distracted. He stepped forward, driving his sword into the ern’s chest. The resistance was great, but so was Iylin’s strength, and the latter won over. With a jerk the blade came loose, and the farmer turned back to the bailey, where the enemy was making progress into the city.

  It was the darkest part of the night, but fires were flaring up in the town as the ern gained territory. They razed what they encountered, and well-placed torches became infernos inside the city. Many in the inner army had reinforced the wall earlier in the battle, and so a weaker force protected the bailey at this time, and they had no hope to hold the gate. Instead, they backed away another block, beside the barracks, and set up a defense there, using overturned carts and barrels as a new wall.

  But in this was the army split, for the soldiers upon the original wall did not have the same opportunity to escape, and they were left stranded in ern territory. Their higher position was an advantage, but not enough of one, and the enemy was advancing upon them from both sides.

  The creatures came upon the soldiers beside the barracks, but the human archers were holding the position well. They fired into the crowd without direction, but as quickly as possible, and in nearly every shot was a foe struck. The bodies were piled high beside the gate, and the reflection of the fires danced in the standing blood.

  And yet they came, and at the front of their forces walked a man in robes of black. As he reached up, part of the new wall of stacked boards and bodies fell apart, dissolving into the air, and once again were the humans vulnerable. A wave of black arrows followed through the breach, and men fell into the muck of the early morning, a scream or whimper as their final sound, and there was no more.

  But the man’s motions did not go unnoticed, and as he turned to use his Magic again, an arrow cut through his chest. Yet another took his place, and destroyed more of the wall before being cut down.

  By this time, the Saparians understood well enough. They did not know how it was done, but Magic was being used against them. But to Invoke whatever they were Invoking, they had to move in certain ways, and that gave them away. A raised hand, one unarmed, would catch the eye of an archer or spearman, and the focus of battle would be turned against that one enemy, an enemy with the power of Vid.

  Word of the motions had spread even to the walls, where Barrin was desperately trying to hold his position. From every direction came the ern, and even some of the humans had at last reached the castle. The farmer stood crowded with others, protecting each other so that no one man would have to defend all positions. They stood back to back along the battlements, and Barrin hacked and jabbed at ern coming from within the bailey. He had lost count of how many deaths or wounds he had caused, but no matter what that number was, it wasn’t yet enough. Still more came, and they would keep coming until Saparen was destroyed.

  And yet they heard the tales of the Magic-users, the Invokers, and Barrin sighed heavily. It was both good and bad news to him at once, for, though they had found a way to stop these followers of the Absence, he also learned that there were more than one. How many might be out there? How many could rip apart the town with merely a motion?

  And how had so many gained such control over Magic?

  The thought was as a premonition, for as it came, the wall tilted and fell under the weight of ern and Magic, and Barrin and his allies fell into the bailey, collapsing upon one another as they went. Iylin found himself on the bottom of the pile, and he was smashed between the ground and the other humans. The pain covered him like a heavy rain, leaving no part of him dry, and blood spilled across his back and head, partially from his own body, and partially from the veins of others.

  Several of the Invokers had been slain, but there was no way to tell how many were left. They came as both humans and ern, but they seemed more prevalent in the humans, and so every man that came against the wall was shown special attention from the d
efenders. Still, the wall was torn apart more quickly than the people of Saparen could reconstruct it, and again the forces fell back. Not a man stood that day without a wound, especially Baron Verios, who had been in the fray from the start. Half of the Den of Serren and half of Tianon’s were alight, but none could be spared to fight the fires, no matter how far they spread. They had to save their own lives first, and the city later.

  None heard the galloping of horses upon the fields to the north, nor the horns that blew. When the hoofs clattered upon the stone bridge, hurriedly south, no man of Saparen was witness. But the ern did see well enough, and they fell even as they turned.

  The next horn blow was clearer, and much more near, and even Barrin Iylin, desperately crawling out of a mass grave, could hear it, though he didn’t know what it meant. His left arm might not have been broken, but it felt like it. Likewise could he not move one of his legs. Only weakly could he maintain his grip upon his sword, and yet he came, determined not lie underneath a mound of bodies. These men fought for his son, and he would stand with them until his last breath was spent. With a huff he climbed from the tomb an inch at a time.

  At last he was free, and upon his wounded leg did he put weight. The pain almost destroyed him, but he bit his lip until he drew blood and kept going. Standing he was after a while, leaning on his sword.

  Another horn was blown, and it was just outside the walls this time. Barrin lifted his sword as the ern army came back upon him. They had overtaken the wall and were making their way farther into the city, but they returned as they saw Barrin there. Wounded men always tempted the beasts, for it was the blood they desired, and not the honor. The farmer lifted his sword with what strength remained, and the first ern stupidly impaled himself upon it.

  From somewhere, he heard the words, “The King’s Thanes! The ern are in retreat!” but the words were not understandable by the weakening man. He pulled his sword away and swung wildly at the next enemy, though the beast backed away in time. The next desperate attack connected, and though it did not slay, it wounded enough to turn the ern back. Another took its place, but each moment seemed to bring strength to the young farmer fighting for his son’s life. With a thrust the ern was dispatched, and another victim’s blood soaked the earth.