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

by Paul Lytle

  The ern fell away, but such only gave an opening for the next attack, and a black arrow embedded itself into Barrin’s belly.

  The farmer stumbled from the sheer weight of the attack, but again he stepped forward, not feeling the pain quite yet. Another ern came, and another ern fell, but then the wound caught the man up into itself, and he became rigid as the pain spread over him like a flash of darkness.

  “The King’s men come!” someone yelled, but Barrin heard nothing. He collapsed into the mud, and more of his blood was mixed into the great soup that had been made by the Battle of the Osilar Young. His face was done, even though he was still awake, so he did not see King Regis Trosalan leading his famed horsemen through the broken gate. He did not see the gilded flag of the purple lion enter Saparen, or the Thanes, their armor gleaming in the rising sun, cut through the line of ern.

  The fighting would continue for another two hours, but it was in that moment that the battle was won. The ern had been turned away.

  Chapter 24

  Master Gerill Hyte had never before seen such a battle. It was not that he was too young, for not even the older Thanes had faced the like. Hyte had never before felt such fear, but he had also never before fought so hard. Forty-three ern fell under his blade, and another six humans, at least one of which was an Invoker. But the numbers didn’t matter to him in the end, and those forty-nine would have been worthless had Saparen fallen. But Saparen had not been taken, and Baron Dravor Verios lived. So did Ayrim Iylin and Jeslin. So did Barrin Iylin.

  Barely, and perhaps not for long.

  The keep had not been reached by the enemy. It was far from the gate, and the ern had not even taken the central square. The fires, however, nearly destroyed both Serren’s and Tianon’s Dens, and damaged Whesler’s and Tarite’s, and some of the flames still raged, even into the next day. Ignar’s Den, oddly, seemed to repel the fire, and it was there that Jeslin was holed up with Ayrim during the battle, and it was there that she now cared for the child and his father.

  But Gerill was at the castle with Baron Verios, what remained of Saparen’s Thanes, and also the King and his Thanes. King Trosalan was as young as Baron Verios, but considerably taller. He towered over even his own warriors, and his presence was intimidating, even in the less perilous times. He was nicknamed the Warlord, not so much for his prowess on the battlefield as for his appearance, for his was the face of a hardened warrior. A scar ran over his cheek and down into his rugged beard, which hung long, like his hair. His eyes were cold grey, emotionless. His form befitted a warrior and nothing else, for this man was hardened through and through. His parents, more inclined to the noble life of luxury, had forced upon him the name Regis, but he much preferred Warlord. He ruled more often from the field, with his Thanes, than from the throne. He was, of course, an Ignist. It was, in fact, expected of a King to follow Ignar, for the throne was to mete out Justice and provide protection, and those were the virtues of Ignar.

  “We did not expect you for weeks,” said Verios, still breathless from the fight. “I am glad we were mistaken.”

  “Word of the ern did not go unnoticed by the throne, Dravor,” said the Warlord, admiring the small keep. “Two weeks ago my scouts brought word to Aeresan of the massing of forces in your barony. I do not simply leave my kingdom to be overrun by the beasts.”

  “Never before has such an army crossed the Last Stand.”

  The King nodded. “I am aware of that fact. The throne of Fahlin has become weak. They have taken army division from the Last Stand and moved them to the southwest, far south of the Ern Highway. They no longer feel it necessary to maintain the Last Stand, since nothing of their kingdom stands east of it. I have reinforced Morylin, but the other two castles are not under my control, and a one-legged table will not stand. The three castles must likewise be connected, else the barrier dissolves.”

  “So more of the ern will find their way through?” wondered the Baron.

  “No,” the King said. “I am taking my men to the Teriam River. We will invest into the Last Stand even if Fahlin will not. It is our best defense, the one place we know the ern must pass in order to go east. We cannot lose it.”

  “Without Satyrin or Asylin?”

  King Regis Trosalan shook his head. “The castles are what makes the Last Stand. We must have access to them, whether Fahlin wants us to or not.”

  The Baron closed his eyes. “It may be a mistake to make an enemy of our neighbors now.”

  “I will do what I need to in order to keep my throne intact. Even if it means moving against my neighbors to do it. Fahlin truly belongs to me anyway. This world belongs to me; Aeresan ruled it all at the start, until the Wizards lost it all in their foolishness.”

  “That was four thousand years ago.”

  “Still, this was all under the Aeresan throne once. It remains ours, as far as I am concerned.”

  “It is your decision to make, and what remains of my armies are yours to command.”

  Trosalan refused, saying, “You’ll need them to help rebuild. I would not take from you what you cannot give.”

  “I thank you.”

  “Tell me of these Invokers you claim to have seen.”

  Baron Verios snorted. “Everyone saw it. Men and even ern, though mostly men, used Magic in the night. There is no other explanation. And yet, the Priests of this town, most of them at the last, came together to Invoke their own gods, and the result was typically minor. A fire here, or a break in the soil there. But one of these things invoking the Absence could outdo all of the Priests combined.”

  “That is the Absence,” shrugged the King. “It takes all of the six powers together to counter it.”

  “But Absence Invocation should be the hardest for that very reason. They are calling upon a Nothing for power, not a god. These men and ern went beyond Invocation. We have seen Invocation, and we have seen Magic, and this was more the latter than the former. They had a power I have never before seen in someone who was not a Wizard. I do not wish to see it again.”

  “We beat them today,” was the liege’s reply. “We’ll beat them again. Now, my men and I need sleep.”

  “Of course.”

  The people in the room bowed as the King left into one of the keep’s wings, and then the crowd dispersed. The barracks would be shared that evening by the King’s men as well as Saparen’s, and Gerill would have offered to house a Thane or two had he not already had houseguests. But he decided that sleep was a wonderful idea, and he started back to his home. There were many repairs to be done, but they would have to wait. The town was too weary to rebuild quite yet. Tomorrow it would begin in earnest, but this was an evening for celebration, for mourning, and for rest.

  Chapter 25

  “How is he?” Gerill asked of Jeslin when he returned. Barrin was laid in the back room, but the servant was waiting in the entry. Her head was in her hands, and her pose unfeminine, but the Thane took no offense. They were weary and wounded, and a woman’s manner of sitting seemed of little concern in such times.

  “A ’Ealer stopped by,” she said, fighting tears. “Nothin’ can be done.”

  “But no one from Serren’s Temple has tried,” he said. “There is still hope.”

  “Nay, there ain’t,” the servant retorted angrily, trying to bring reason unto her master. “Yeh know better than I that ah Invoker o’ Life cannot be o’ real use ’n th’ aftermath o’ ah battle.”

  It was true. A Priest might invoke enough to Heal two or three, but after such a conflict as had just occurred, the power of the Serrenites would be spread too thin. At most each one could Heal four before exhaustion took him, but hundreds were wounded.

  “’Sides,” said Jeslin. “Only Father Josite’s left. Th’ High Priest died ’n th’ fire.”

  Gerill sat down, his body sudden very heavy. “So Barrin will die?”

  The hushed answer came slowly. “’Ee will.”
>
  He had come to Saparen for protection, but had died as its defender. Hyte grunted at the thought. There was something noble in that, and something very sad as well. “I have been told that he fought very well,” the Thane said, trying to distract himself. “He was one of the last ones left on the wall. He . . .” but no more words would come. The hardened warrior, veteran of several score battles, wept. He had come to like Barrin Iylin. He had come to like the farmer a great deal.

  “Where is Ayrim?” Master Hyte finally got out.

  “’N there wi’ ’im.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “Th’ Whesler Den got ah pretty good orphanage. We can send ’im there.”

  It would not be easy for the boy, Gerill knew. The battle had left many orphans, and few would find homes again. Ayrim would likely remain in the overcrowded home until he became a man, and then he would be let loose upon the streets with no money and no belongings, unless he could apprentice somewhere. Unless someone would take him.

  Someone like me, Gerill decided. Even though she hadn’t said anything yet, Hyte knew that Jeslin had already made the decision without him. Jeslin usually got her way in such things, even if she didn’t ask. She only made the alternative seem too unattractive to accept. But in this case, there would be no debate. Ayrim would remain with them.

  In the other room, Ayrim lay asleep upon Barrin’s chest. The slight weight pained the father, but brought him more joy than it did hurt. He didn’t really feel much anymore. He knew he was dying, and he knew that once the boy was taken away, he wouldn’t see his son again. And so he watched Ayrim sleep, a small child for his age, and already to have seen such pain. He would grow up without a parent, without knowing what so many people went through so that he might live.

  Barrin thought back upon the last year, back upon his wife’s pale corpse, lying in the bed they had shared for two years, a bed that had been cold every night afterward. He thought of Lord Draffor’s battle with the Thane, his eyes pleading for the Iylins to escape. Back upon riding with his son, and Ayrim’s first word. The ern came to his mind suddenly, and the Absence Magic, and he shivered. But there was also Gerill Hyte, the Thane, and Baron Dravor Verios, who would not give in against the ern. There was also Jeslin, who toiled day and night to provide a little comfort for the two. And then Barrin saw himself, as though from another pair of eyes, and he watched as he stood upon a falling wall, as he accepted an arrow into his stomach.

  And it was all worth it.

  For the first time, Barrin looked upon his son and knew that Ayrim was worth it. The coldness was overcoming him, and yet he smiled. He would not be there to mold the child into a man. He would not be there to teach his son toil and faith, and to tell him stories and discipline him when he did wrong. He would not be there, and nor would Josette, and yet they had both given their lives so that this little child might simply have a chance to live.

  And Ayrim was worth the sacrifice.

  And so the smile remained on Barrin Iylin’s face when the darkness consumed him.

  The End

  Book I of

  THE EIGHTH POWER

  Coming in May 2013 . . .

  Book II

  The Book of the Earth

  Several years ago, the city of Saparen fought off an ern attack in order to protect a few children who had done nothing to have earned the wrath of the ern except that they were born on a particular day – a day that made them possible heirs to the power of the Prophets.

  Ayrim Iylin, though proven to not be a Prophet, has grown up under the guidance of the Priests and the Thanes, all of whom are on constant guard against the ern. He seeks as normal a life as he can manage – from learning the art of farming, faith, and warfare. But now the ern are using a different and more subtle approach – sneaking into the town as stealthy murderers instead of attacking directly as an invading army. To make things worse, it appears that someone is letting them in.

  For the first time, Ayrim must step out of the shadow of the Baron’s protection to face his enemies directly. To protect himself, he must at last join the battle.

  The Eighth Power continues as the search for the two new Prophets continues, the war between Aeresan and Fahlin rages, and the power of the Void begins to consume the land.

  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 is eagerly anticipating the birth of his first son, which (at the time of this writing) will be any day now. He can be found online at https://www.paullytle.comor on Twitter as @Calvinistnerd. He also writes for and edits the online magazine Primum Mobile at https://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 consist
ing 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.