The Younger Gods

by David Eddings

Over the countless centuries, Aracia’s priests had spread the word that she’d really like to have a glorious temple built for her, and they’d managed to persuade the common citizens that it was their duty to construct it. Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to draw up an overall plan, so Aracia’s “glorious temple” was a hodgepodge of corridors that didn’t go anywhere, chambers without doorways, and extensive unroofed areas.

  Aracia spent most—if not all—of her time in her throne room, so she had no real awareness of how ridiculous her glorious temple really was. It was a mile square, though, and the word “mile” seemed to thrill Aracia right down to her bones, and she sat contented in her glorious throne room on her glorious throne, accepting the glorious adoration of generation after generation of lazy priests.

  Then, quite suddenly during Sorgan’s imitation invasion hoax, Aracia had changed direction—to the horror of her priests. Her voice suddenly became steel-hard, and she commanded her priests to go out and do some honest work for a change.

  “It just doesn’t fit,” Balacenia complained. She was catching a strong odor of tampering here, but she had no idea of who might be trying to change things.

  Then her eye caught a flicker of movement outside the unstable east wall of Aracia’s temple. Rabbit’s “spider hoax” had terrified everybody in Aracia’s Domain, and terrified people don’t wander around alone—particularly not after the sun goes down.

  Curious, Balacenia drifted lower and saw a small person wearing a priest robe scurrying along outside the rickety temple wall. “That almost has to be that self-appointed priestess called Alcevan,” Balacenia murmured. “What’s she up to now?” Then she remembered Veltan’s imitation spiders, and that explained just why Alcevan was staying outside the temple, and it also suggested that Alcevan desperately needed to talk with Aracia.

  Then she thought of Torl’s description of an unused corridor that just happened to have a crack in the wall where he’d been able to listen to what was happening without being seen. “I’d say that ‘sneak around’ time just got here,” she murmured to herself.

  She drifted down through the poorly constructed roof of Aracia’s temple and settled in Torl’s dusty corridor. She could even see Torl’s footprints in the dust, and that made things very simple.

  “Please don’t leave us, dear one!” Balacenia heard Alcevan’s peculiar-sounding voice coming through the crack Torl had found. There was a desperation in the voice, but also just a hint of insincerity.

  “You’re just wasting your time—and mine—Alcevan,” Aracia’s cold voice declared. “I have no choice. My cycle nears its end. I must sleep, and soon. I cannot remain awake when my cycle ends.”

  “You must try, dear one!” Alcevan’s voice was almost shrill. “We do not know this Enalla creature, but I am almost positive that she’ll abolish your church—or even worse, change it so that the people—and priests—of your Domain will worship her instead of you.”

  Balacenia caught a brief smell of a very peculiar odor. Then Aracia’s attitude—and even her voice—changed. “I will not permit that! The church is mine!”

  “Could you not delay her awakening, dear one?” Alcevan asked. “Surely you can stay with us for just a few more years.”

  Aracia, it seemed, even considered that. Then she spoke in an ominous tone. “Maybe I can at that,” she said. “And I think I know of a way to keep Enalla from ever usurping this throne that is rightfully mine.”

  “And which way is that, dear one?” Alcevan asked, though it was obvious to Balacenia that the small priestess already knew.

  “You don’t need to know that just yet, Alcevan,” Aracia declared.

  Balacenia could catch bits and pieces of Aracia’s thoughts. Her brain was fairly scrambled, but the word “kill” kept cropping up.

  “I think I’d better warn Veltan about this. His big sister isn’t quite as sane as Sorgan seems to think she is.”

  The Trogite ship called the Ascension that Narasan had given to Sorgan was anchored in the harbor, and Balacenia sensed Veltan’s presence in the large cabin at the ship’s stern. Fortunately, he was alone, and Balacenia was certain that the two of them needed to talk privately. She could have just drifted down to the deck of the Ascension and then knocked on the cabin door, but she chose at the last minute to just suddenly appear in Veltan’s presence with no warning.

  Veltan visibly flinched when she dropped into the cabin. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “I just thought I’d drop by and warn you that there’s a great deal of trouble coming your way, Uncle Veltan,” Balacenia replied. “I was sort of keeping an eye on things in your big sister’s temple, and I saw that little priestess Alcevan sneaking along the east wall. She went on inside, and I used that corridor Sorgan’s cousin found to get close enough to the throne room to eavesdrop. I hate to tell you this, Uncle Veltan, but that little priestess Alcevan just put a stop to your sister’s journey into the land of people who aren’t crazy.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be doing that sort of thing yet,” Veltan protested.

  “Don’t worry so much about ‘supposed to,’ Uncle. I just discovered that Alcevan isn’t at all what everybody seems to think she is. Actually, she’s a bug.”

  Veltan’s head came up sharply. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “I was talking about Alcevan the bug. Weren’t you listening? This has happened before. If you think back, you’ll remember that tribe in Tonthakan who were positive that they’d been terribly insulted—right up until the Maag called Ox brained a couple of men—who turned out not to be men. Alcevan’s of that same variety of bug.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I could smell her. She’s emitting the same kind of odor the ones in Tonthakan were, so Aracia believes everything Alcevan tells her, and she’s coming very close to trying to keep Enalla from taking over here by killing Lillabeth.”

  “She wouldn’t do that. It’s totally forbidden.”

  “‘Forbid’ just blew out of the window. Aracia is all wound up, and the word ‘kill’ keeps coming into her mind. I’m almost positive that Aracia believes that if she kills Lillabeth, it’ll almost certainly kill Enalla as well. I think it’s time for a conference, Veltan. Why don’t you go speak with Dahlaine and Zelana? The other Dreamers are with them. I’ll snatch Lillabeth out of Aracia’s temple.”

  “That might be just a bit tricky, Balacenia,” Veltan said. “Sorgan’s cousin Torl has a hundred oversized Maags there guarding her.”

  “So?”

  Veltan blinked. Then he laughed a bit ruefully. “I keep forgetting who you really are, Balacenia. You’re not at all like Eleria, are you?”

  Balacenia sighed. “Not really. I love her, but she goes her own way. I don’t think we’ll be able to merge when this is all over, but we can worry about that later. Right now, getting Lillabeth to safety is more important than anything else. Where do you think we should meet?”

  Veltan frowned. “I’d say Mount Shrak. It’s the most secure place. The snow’s probably ten feet deep up there, and that should definitely keep the bugs from getting close enough to hear what we’re saying.”

  “Good idea. We need to make some decisions. If necessary, we might all have to come down on Aracia with both feet. Let’s get started, Uncle. We’ve got a long way to go, and not very much time.”

  It wasn’t particularly difficult for Balacenia to take Lillabeth right out from under the noses of Torl and the hundred massive sailors Sorgan had sent to guard her. The Maags guarded doors and hallways, but they didn’t guard the roof. Many things were coming back to Balacenia now, and she had no difficulty passing down through the roof to join the little girl who was really Balacenia’s sister Enalla. “We’ve got an emergency, Lillabeth,” Balacenia declared, “and we’re all supposed to meet with the elders up at Mount Shrak.”

  “Why didn’t Aracia come here and take me there?” Lillabeth demanded.

  “There’s a war out there, Li
llabeth,” Balacenia reminded her sister. “Aracia’s very busy right now.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you remember how to fly,” she said.

  “I’ve never tried,” Lillabeth said. “I’m sure that Aracia would be terribly upset if I suddenly sprouted wings.”

  “We don’t use wings, Lillabeth. There’s a much easier way to do it. I’ll carry you. You’re not really all that heavy.”

  “You’re the grown-up Eleria, aren’t you?”

  “Well—sort of. Eleria and I are much farther apart than you and Enalla are.”

  “When the time comes, will I have to grow up before I become Enalla? Or will there just be a poof, and I’ll be all grown up?”

  “We’ve never done this before, Lillabeth,” Balacenia replied. “I think each one of us will have to make it up when the time comes.” She held out her hand. “Shall we go?” she said.

  Lillabeth’s eyes went very wide when the two of them passed up through the roof of Aracia’s temple. “How can you do that?” she said in a trembling voice.

  “It has to do with thought, little sister,” Balacenia replied. “Aracia could do it, if she ever left her throne room. There are all sorts of things we can do that ordinary people don’t even think about. Just look at the scenery, Lillabeth. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I told you, Mount Shrak. You’ve been there, so it shouldn’t bother you.”

  They rose up through the chill winter air until Balacenia located a wind coming out of the southeast. She latched onto it, and it carried them in a generally northwesterly direction. Balacenia had always enjoyed riding the wind. It was an easy way to go from here to there, since the wind did all the work.

  “How high up in the air are we?” Lillabeth asked in a trembling sort of voice.

  “That doesn’t really matter, child,” Balacenia replied. “Don’t let the height bother you. I won’t let you fall.”

  “I’ve never been up this high in the air before,” Lillabeth said. “The world’s a lot bigger than I thought it is. How far is it from one side to the other?”

  “The world doesn’t have sides, child. It’s round—almost like a ball, but it’s much larger than an ordinary ball. There are thousands of miles between one side of the world and the other.”

  Lillabeth peered down at the earth far below. “Why is it all white like that?”

  “It’s covered with snow, Lillabeth.”

  “Like that snow we saw back in Lattash last spring?”

  “I’d almost forgotten that you were there with the rest of us,” Balacenia admitted. Then she pointed on ahead. “That’s Mount Shrak there. The rest of the family should be there by now. I’d say that you should listen, but don’t say very much. They’re likely to say things about Aracia that you won’t like, but just keep your feelings to yourself. The whole purpose of this meeting is to come up with a way to keep Aracia from hurting you.”

  “She wouldn’t do that!” Lillabeth protested.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure, Lillabeth. Aracia’s mind isn’t working the way it’s supposed to right now. That’s what this meeting’s all about. If we don’t get her mind to working right, we could lose her.”

  Balacenia began their descent, and they came down just outside the entrance to Dahlaine’s cave. She was just a bit out of practice, but things seemed to be returning to normal.

  The two of them went on inside, and they soon reached the part of the cave Dahlaine used for living quarters.

  “Did you have any problems?” Veltan asked.

  “I don’t have problems, Uncle,” Balacenia teased him. “You should know that by now. Torl’s men were guarding the doors, but I went into Lillabeth’s room through the ceiling. Then we came out the same way. It’ll probably be three or four days before anybody in the temple discovers that Lillabeth isn’t there anymore.”

  “Let’s get on with this,” Dahlaine said. “Veltan told us that you’ve discovered that one of sister Aracia’s priests is a disguised servant of the Vlagh.”

  “Priestess, Uncle,” Balacenia corrected. “I can’t be sure just how she managed to persuade Fat Bersla and the others that women can be priests just like men can. She might have used that odor you encountered in Tonthakan, but that’s not really important. She’s got your sister completely under her control now, and she’s doing her best to drive Aracia into killing Lillabeth here.”

  “She can’t do that!” Dahlaine exclaimed.

  “Not since I grabbed Lillabeth and brought her here, she can’t,” Balacenia reminded him. “Our problem now is how we are going to deal with that smelly bug.”

  “Kill it,” Yaltar, the childish form of Vash, said bluntly.

  “Didn’t you tell him that we’re not permitted to do that, Uncle Veltan?” Balacenia asked.

  “I didn’t get into too many details,” Veltan admitted.

  “We could always send for Longbow,” Eleria said. “He kills bugs all the time.”

  “Or maybe Ox,” Dahlaine’s Dreamer Ashad said.

  Then there came a glow of light out of the passage that led to the outside of Mount Shrak, and Ara was there. “What seems to be the problem, children?” she asked.

  “One of the bug people has stolen the Beloved’s big sister,” Eleria replied. “We’d like to get her back, but we don’t know exactly how.”

  “Which one of you discovered that?” Ara asked.

  “It was Big-Me,” Eleria replied. “You know how clever Big-Me can be.”

  Ara frowned slightly. “Who’s she talking about?”

  “That would be me,” Balacenia said. “She’s had a peculiar way of talking ever since she started playing with the dolphins. There’s a woman called Alcevan down in Aracia’s temple who pretends that she’s a priestess. I overheard her talking with Aracia and she was letting out that peculiar odor the servants of the Vlagh use to confuse people. She’s come very close to persuading Aracia that when Enalla takes charge in the East, she’ll usurp the temple and the priesthood and make everybody in Aracia’s Domain worship her. Aracia accepted that absurdity, and she was getting very close to murdering Lillabeth here as a way to destroy Enalla. Just to be safe, I snatched Lillabeth and brought her here.”

  Ara’s face went cold. “Aracia should know that she’s not permitted to kill anything.”

  “I’m sure that she knows that,” Dahlaine said, “but we’ve seen this sort of thing before. Once one of the bug-people unleashes that odor, people lose their grip on reality. We’ve been trying to come up with an answer, but we haven’t gotten very far yet. We’re working on it, though. We’d be more than happy if you can give us a solution.”

  Ara squinted at him. “First off, you can’t send Lillabeth back to that silly temple. She’s too innocent to protect herself, but Enalla can. I’ll help her a bit, and she’ll look exactly like Lillabeth. Then, when Aracia commands her to die, Enalla can block that command with no trouble and—we can all hope—she’ll prevent Aracia from going too far. If she goes over the forbidden line, she’ll cease to exist.”

  “Die, you mean?” Ashad asked.

  “Not exactly. She just won’t be there anymore. She’ll simply vanish.”

  “That’s the last thing we want,” Dahlaine said. “Aracia’s never really been very stable. She’s obsessed with her divinity, and sooner or later she’s almost certain to step over that forbidden line. I think it’s altogether possible that we’ll lose her, no matter what we do. Then we’ll have to replace her.”

  “Make a new person, you mean?” Ashad asked.

  “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  Balacenia saw the perfect answer standing right there, but she was fairly sure she’d have trouble convincing Dahlaine, so she kept it to herself for now.

  THE

  DREAM

  OF

  OMAGO

  1

  Ara was humming softly to herself as she prepared a breakfast for the Trogites who were manning Gunda’s fort at the head of Lo
ng-Pass. The weather had turned bitterly cold, but Ara’s kitchen was pleasantly warm. The Trogite army cooks used stoves made of iron, but that didn’t suit Ara one little bit. Iron stoves didn’t produce constant temperatures, and constant temperature was the key to good cooking. She’d tried one of the iron stoves when she and Omago had first reached Gunda’s fort, and the results had been disastrous. Omago was almost immediately aware of her dissatisfaction, and he had built her a stove much like the one back in their kitchen near Veltan’s house, and Ara had always been more comfortable with a stove made of fired bricks. Her ovens were exactly where they were supposed to be. Different foods needed different heats, and Ara had always depended on distance from the fire to precisely control the heat in each oven. The Trogite army cooks could prepare large amounts of food, but quite a bit of it was overcooked—almost burned—and much of it was still half-raw. The Trogite soldiers were very brave, so they didn’t complain when half of their food was partially burned and the other half was not even very warm.

  Ara was still very concerned by child Balacenia’s discovery that Aracia was almost totally under the control of one of the servants of the Vlagh. Lillabeth would be safe, though, and that was all that really mattered. Ara smiled faintly. Aracia—and her buggish priestess—were likely to be very surprised when they encountered what appeared to be the child Lillabeth, but in reality was the younger goddess Enalla. With Enalla and Balacenia there to block them, Aracia and Alcevan wouldn’t have any chance at all of achieving their goal. Dahlaine had been more than a little reluctant to admit that Aracia wouldn’t be around much longer, but his sister was quite obviously out of her mind, and very soon she would almost certainly cease to exist.

  “Good morning, dear heart,” Omago said as he came into the kitchen.

  “You finally woke up, I see,” Ara said. “Here it is almost daylight, and you’re only now getting out of bed. Aren’t you feeling well?”

  “Not really, dear,” Omago replied. “I had a very peculiar dream last night.”