by Paul Lytle
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 physic
al. 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 pu
shed 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.