The Crafter's Son: Book One of the Exciting New Coming of Age Epic Fantasy Series, The Crafter Chronicles

by Matthew Berg

  “Many of you have parents or nurses or friends who say prayers to the old gods. If they are wishing for luck, they might choose the Pretani god Mungo. If strength in battle, Götar, the dwarfish god of war. If fertility, the Shenn Frith goddess Mikele.

  “Some do so without thought, and even out of habit—not necessarily believing the god will answer their prayer, or even necessarily believing in the god himself. Well, I am here to tell you that the old gods are real.”

  There were stunned faces and suppressed gasps all around. Breeden got the feeling that Cedric was joking or had something up his sleeve, so he didn’t take the words too seriously. And Cedric looked awfully pleased with himself, so to Breeden, this merely confirmed his suspicion.

  “How do I know the old gods exist? you might ask. Well, I know because I have met them.”

  At this even Breeden was surprised. He looked around at the others, and the only one who looked unfazed was Kestrel. Derek and Laudan grew angry. And Janelle and Oskar appeared shocked. But they didn’t have too much time to dwell on the monk’s words before he continued.

  “It’s true. And from what I have been able to determine, these gods are no godlier than a troll or a dragon or a pixie. They are not human, certainly. And they have abilities that we cannot comprehend or duplicate. But just because a troll will grow a new arm when one is severed, does that make the troll better than we are, or more than we are? And because a dragon can live for more than twenty times the lifespan of a man, does that make it immortal? No, it does not.

  “It is my belief that the ‘gods’ we humans worship were once men. And if not men, and something else altogether, like a troll or dragon, then they are certainly not gods in the sense, and with the powers, people have ascribed to them. In speaking with these gods—those who have allowed me to do so—and in reading the accounts of those who have also spoken with the gods, I have discerned one fact that weighs heavily against the immortality and superiority of these gods. And it is this: they each have a collective memory that begins at roughly the same point in the past.

  While it is true that this memory begins thousands of years ago, it is also true that because of this limit to their memory, their existence can be argued to have been finite. And since their existence is finite, it is safe to assume that these gods are no more creators of the world in which we live than the elves or the giants. Were they influential in the development of our cultures and our societies? Yes. Were they responsible for bettering or worsening our condition, as was their wont? Yes. But these facts do not mean that the old gods are true gods in the way that the one true creator God is.

  “Laudan, what can you tell me about the one true God?”

  Laudan seemed surprised at the question and had to compose himself for a moment before answering. “God is all-knowing and all-powerful. He judges men for their evil thoughts as well as their deeds. He is righteous and holds the wicked accountable for their wrongdoings and sets aside a place in paradise for those who follow His path. He—”

  Laudan appeared willing to continue, but Cedric interrupted him. “You have said what God does but not talked about what He is. Can you describe His nature?”

  Laudan wasn’t daunted by the interruption or the question. “We were made in His image, so we know that He looks like us. Or rather, that we look like Him. And He is everywhere at once, so He is manifestly vast. He is—”

  “Is He flesh?” The question was sharp and firm.

  “No. He is not made of flesh. He is immortal.”

  “That which is flesh cannot live forever?”

  “No.”

  “So if not of flesh, then what is God?”

  At this, Laudan was silent. Cedric allowed the moment to linger, until Breeden felt himself growing increasingly uncomfortable. Breeden was wondering why a priest of the One God’s church would call his own god’s existence into question. The moment lingered longer. Breeden glanced around the table and saw expressions of fear, anger, and confusion on the faces of his peers. Laudan was pensive. Then finally Cedric broke the silence. “I will answer my own question, Laudan. He is in all things. He is the stuff of life. He is that which leaves a man’s body when he dies. He is spirit, and He is everything that is not Him.

  “Ask rather, what is not God? For you were right when you said He was everywhere. He is not merely everywhere; He is everything.

  “Are the old gods immortal?” As he asked the question, he turned to face Breeden, looking him directly in the eye.

  Breeden had no response. He had no opinion. He had frankly not thought about it before, and had a hard time even trying to figure out how he could provide his teacher with any kind of satisfactory answer at all.

  But Cedric wouldn’t relent. “Breeden Andehar, are the old gods immortal?”

  Breeden still had no clue why Brother Cedric was picking on him, and had no idea what kind of answer he was looking for. But a thought occurred to him, and he found himself asking a question rather than answering Cedric’s. “Since you met them, can you tell me, are the old gods made of flesh?”

  Now it was Cedric who appeared caught off guard. His somewhat stern and knowing look, his penetrating eyes, his dramatic and pregnant poise, were replaced with a look of delight. Then, as quickly as it came, he took control of himself once again, and he answered quietly, almost without thought. “They may not be. I cannot say.”

  At that, Breeden had an answer. “Well, I would say that if they are not made of flesh, then perhaps they are made of the same stuff God is, and I suppose they could be immortal after all, even if they were born thousands of years ago.”

  Cedric considered Breeden’s words, and his expression changed again. His scholar’s face returned, but with a scholar’s curiosity instead of conviction. “Your words have provoked a memory, Breeden. I once read a scroll where a priest argued that the old gods were made of the essence of magic, that they had no flesh but were creatures who not only wielded magic but were wholly of magic. But this just proves the point I set out to demonstrate, and that is this: there is no such thing as magic.”

  The stern face of Laudan cracked, and he almost sneered at his teacher. “First you say that the old gods are real, and now you are saying that there is no such thing as magic. Are you testing us or simply making sport of us?”

  Cedric smiled. “Your salvation is the one test that really matters. As to how you arrive at the truth, the path is yours to choose. I merely wish to make your way clear of the obstacles of superstition, tradition, and simple habit.

  “Is there magic in the world? Well, it is too simple to say yes or no without proof. Are there mysteries and powers beyond our ken? Most certainly. Could man’s or elf’s or dwarf’s magic, as possessed and used by wizards and enchanters, be the manifestation of God’s presence in the world? That is what I believe. And to call this powerful essence, present in all things, magic is to admit that you don’t understand its nature any more than you can understand the nature of God.

  “I have heard wizards try to describe the nature of magic and fail. And I am talking about those who are born gifted in its use, as well as those who have come to understand better the rules of magic only through long years of practice and dedication. The great wizards of magic could no more explain to me what magic is than I could explain the nature of God. But just as you have all witnessed real magic practiced in your short lives, so do I see the work of God revealed before me each day I rise.

  “The existence of God is as obvious to me as the water that fills Long Lake. And just as you can reach your hand into the waters of that lake and feel water—even without being able to tell me exactly what water is—so do I feel the presence of God each day during the exercise of my duties. Like a hand that enters the lake dry and leaves the lake wet, I am changed by coming into the presence of my god. But unlike the water on such a hand, the presence of God lingers long in me while I do His work.

  “What are the rules of water?” Cedric posed the question but hardly gave anyon
e a chance to answer before he continued. “You cannot hold it in your hands, but need a bucket to carry it from one place to another. Even the smallest, most invisible hole will provide water a means of escaping. When the weather gets cold enough, water freezes and becomes ice. When thrown on a fire, water will extinguish it. And a properly built boat can travel across water faster than a horse can run on land.

  “Are there other rules of water? Assuredly. Each of us has learned the rules I have mentioned without conscious thought, by regular interaction with it. Do we try to catalog these rules in order to better understand water’s nature? Most of us have not, or wouldn’t think to take the time. But many sailors do just that, because water is so very important to their livelihood and their very lives. The sailors know, too, which rules are immutable, unchangeable, and which rules are dependent upon circumstances or conditions. Well, just as with the sailor’s understanding of water and the wizard’s understanding of magic, there are rules to understanding the true God.

  “It is my hope that over the course of the time we spend together, you will come to understand what I consider to be some of the most important rules, the rules of the world and of life. It is further my hope that you will someday recognize that it is only through God that all these rules exist. God made the world a place of rules, a place of logic, so that we could better come to grips with the world around us. It is God who made water. It is God who made what we commonly call magic. And it is only through the grace of God that we even exist, are able to understand these rules, and are able to live our lives as we do.

  “The ultimate lesson for today, therefore, is that the world operates on logic, operates on rules. In the most extreme case for myself, or more clearly stated, where my knowledge is most limited, I understand that even magic follows a finite and strictly understandable set of rules. And the true God, the one and only creator God, has created it to be this way. There are things in this world we haven’t yet explained and that aren’t tangible in ways we understand, but that is merely because we haven’t yet come to understand them, not because we cannot do so. God, in his great wisdom and generosity, has granted us the power to discern for ourselves the nature of our world. And He has left it to us to determine for ourselves, each of us, what exactly that means.”

  He looked around the class and saw pensive looks on every face. He appeared satisfied.

  “Okay, that is enough for now. Your first lesson is given. Let’s eat.”

  11

  Lessons

  For the first few weeks of class, Cedric moved them around the monastery quite a bit and held class in many different places. They would study in one of the many libraries, outside on the garden terrace, as they had that first day, and in various rooms of the keep itself. When discussing religion, he once held class in the sanctuary of the cathedral.

  At the beginning, his lessons focused almost entirely on history and religion. Unsurprisingly, Kestrel, Laudan, and Derek, as the noble-born members of the group, had a better sense of history than the others, albeit a version of history skewed by the stories passed down from their respective ancestors. During many discussions, the noble boys would interject their own interpretations or understandings of the events, sometimes even arguing heatedly with each other. Cedric patiently assured them that where there were disagreements among the scholars, he would let them know, but where all sources were in agreement on a given subject, he believed it was safe to assume he was presenting an accurate picture.

  Breeden found the whole thing fascinating, as his sense of history was limited to his own homeland of Hyrde. Further, he remembered hearing stories from his father about the gnome wars, particularly the most recent, which was fought from Ridderzaal Castle. Breeden recalled that in this war, the humans had united under the great Hyrden king Wilham, but he was sure he couldn’t recall hearing any tales of conflict between the humans.

  The new perspective he received at the hands of Brother Cedric was a human civilization constantly at odds with itself. The nations of the Krigares, the Laonese, the Gaidheal, the Mahjars, the Pretani, and the Hyrdens were continually making war with one another. And despite the objective nature with which Cedric taught his lessons, it was clear that the motives behind much of this warfare were less than noble: expanding a nation’s borders, capturing wealth or resources, enslaving other peoples, or a simple lust for power. Breeden was shocked there could be such self-interest in the world. And he had an even harder time believing that humans could be responsible for so much that was so wrong, and even evil.

  When his father had told him tales of warfare, he had talked about the wars with the gnomes and trolls, which, to Breeden, had felt very primal. They were black and white. They were about the survival of the human race. But Cedric’s story of warfare between humans was not so cut and dried.

  Gnomes and trolls were one thing, he told himself, but his parents had plainly sheltered him from the darker side of the human race. They weren’t so naive as to tell him he could trust everyone, of course. And they made sure that when he traveled in the city, he was careful to watch where he went. But then, until recently he hadn’t been allowed into the city on his own, so he supposed he might be more sheltered than he realized.

  This day, they were in the second-tallest tower of the keep, in a small private library. The few narrow windows present provided some light, but even on such a sunny afternoon as it was, the light had to be supplemented by a pair of lanterns in order for everyone to see and read the fragile texts Cedric passed around as he spoke.

  Breeden was trying his best to read the words on the page before him, but it was hopeless. Over the years, the ink had been fading from black to a very pale brown, and at the same time, the vellum upon which it was written was darkening toward an all-too-similar brown. To make matters more difficult, the writing contained many words he’d never learned and was written in a dialect he could barely decipher as it was. Breeden raised his head from the tedious and impossible task and passed the scroll to Janelle, seated immediately to his left at the huge study table. She accepted the text without a word, and Breeden turned his eyes and attention to Cedric.

  “. . . but the clan chief Keir had fortunately gathered together all the highland clans under a war pact.

  “At Keir’s enjoinment, the clans had united in a moot upon the Hyrden victory over the Laonese, concerned—correctly, I probably don’t need to add—that the Hyrden king would next turn his eyes to their fat herds of cattle and vast croplands. Had Keir not acted with such decisiveness and forethought, it is possible our friend Kestrel here would never have been born. For it was King Wilham’s way to defeat utterly, even to the last man, any force that confronted his—if he thought that his victory was assured, that is. But when the small vanguard of his army—about two hundred men, himself included—reached the foothills of southern Pretania, he was met by a fearsome host of well over one thousand fighting hillmen and highlanders. And even though he, and most of his force, were on horseback, enough of the Pretani before him had ponies that he might not have succeeded in getting away—had he made the attempt.

  “But he was a bold king. And he raised his checkered flag of parlay and rode forward, his van following behind. That day, with one-fifth the number of men he faced at his immediate command, the Hyrden king won an oath of fealty from the collected clansmen of the Pretani. No blood was shed. There were those among the clans who wanted to attack, despite the fact that their outlying scouts had reported a massive host of more than ten times their strength approaching behind the greedy king. And it is very likely true that his vanguard could have been overtaken by the Pretani before the rest of his forces arrived.

  “But at the moot, Keir had been made war chief, and he knew that killing the Hyrden king would have brought down the wrath of the unstoppable army behind him. And he knew too, or at least suspected, that swearing fealty to the Hyrden king was the only way to save the lives of the clans’ armies. An army of the size assembled against the Pretani cou
ld not be defeated in the field. We can’t say for sure, but many believe Keir was plotting even then, that he planned to wait until the considerable army before him was dispersed. Perhaps he thought, ‘What price is a year of fealty for the lives of my people?’

  “How long did that year last, Kestrel?”

  Kestrel wasn’t glancing out the window or fidgeting as he typically would but had been paying unusually close attention to the story, since it involved his own homeland. He had a ready answer to Cedric’s query. “Two hundred years and counting, sir.”

  Breeden was amused by the fact that Cedric couldn’t stifle a small chuckle. Kestrel’s remarks were generally somewhat flippant but always incisive. Cedric continued. “Kestrel knows better than anyone. The great king Wilham knew just exactly what Keir must have been thinking. But if Keir was nobody’s fool, King Wilham was nobody, for he changed the nature of warfare forever after. I know I’ve made it somewhat obvious to those among the nobility, but could you tell me what innovation King Wilham brought about that so effectively kept Keir and the rest of the clans from reclaiming their sovereignty? Janelle?”

  Janelle had been paying attention, but her face was a cloud of anxiety as she answered. “I’m not sure, Father.”

  “Brother, my child. I am not the Abbot.”

  “I’m sorry, Brother Cedric. But I don’t know. Did you already tell us the answer? I don’t recall hearing you say it.”

  Cedric smiled. “Don’t worry, dear child. It will come. And we each bring with us our own strengths. You shone brightly enough when we discussed courtly etiquette last week. Why, you made the noble boys look like bowing and scraping farm boys in comparison. Anyone else, besides Kestrel?” Kestrel had already begun to speak when Cedric excluded him from the question.