Tales of Elderspace - J.M Barnes (top 10 best books of all time .TXT) 📗

“There was a domain there once. Full of life and wonder…” Two spirits looked down upon a blasted landscape. An entire area the size of a large continent had been laid waste by a battle between two pantheons. One spirit resembled a short feline man with tufts of hair sticking haphazardly out of his disproportionately large ears. In life he had been an orphan raised by elves. Through them he’d learned to manipulate magic in a way that augmented and improved his psionic power.


“You must not let it bother you. The gods have simply decided to begin again. When they are through they will have created a domain to resemble the lost fields of Elysium, where the likes of us will not be welcome.” The second spirit appeared human with a wild mane of black hair and a full unkempt beard. He was gaunt and tall, clearly not a warrior. Even in his spirit form he smiled constantly as if he could not stop himself. In life he’d been known as the mad prophet.


“But…what will become of us?” The feline man asked.


“We have been chosen by the All Mother to replace a long ago fallen pantheon. There are a lost people who need us. We must pass the Lyr’Mar, an epic journey across the world to prove our worthiness.”


“You are no longer mad. Are you aware of that?”


“I am. I was never truly mad, my friend, not really. I played the role given me by the gods and now I am receiving payment for my millennia of service. I will be the god and I will look after my people as a god is meant to.” The prophet nodded and looked behind him. A group of spirits was standing nearby and listening quite attentively to their words.


“Come, Righteous Pack, we have a Lyr’Mar to complete and when we do we will have a new task where only our conscience shall be our master.” Spreading his arms wide the prophet sang out in a single note as darkness began to enshroud the gathered spirits.


They were gone an eye blink later.


Lyr’Mar Verse 1


Blood Red Phoenix, a deity reborn in flames


A war of ancient memory, one God Split in twain


To the Iron World where the soul of Akasha lies,


And the Great Root circles while keeping its surprise,


^ ^ ^


Orfaeus saw the last of the Blood Red bird hours ago but his stellar senses led him unerringly toward his charge. Halren was with him, guiding him and he would not fail. He was deep within the universal sphere when the Great Root came into view. It was only recognizable not by the light it reflected but by the way it blocked the light of the star dubbed Noalesce. This star gave off a powerful energy that had been causing swift evolution and unspeakable mutations in life throughout this system of Elderspace.


Said to have been spawned an eternity ago the Great Root was said to have started as a single seedling of Yggdrasil, the tree of life. Feeding off only the star’s radiation it grew unceasingly until it spiraled in its own orbit around the sun. Rumor said it also sustained itself by feeding on unwary travelers and interlopers. How this was done was anyone’s guess but Orfaeus doubted it was true. More likely it fed on the rotting corpses of stranded individuals left helpless upon its broad branches. Just as any earthbound tree utilized the fallen as fertilizer.


Rather than speeding past the Root the Blood Red god had taken a course flying along its length. The celestial knight followed and his Pegasus strained to find more speed. The broad branches of the Great root twisted and spiraled in angles only possible in null gravity. It had a breathable atmosphere clinging to it and it had become a favorite way station for any vessels seeking to renew their atmosphere. He watched carefully for any skulking raiders who might be waiting in ambush.


The broken hull was snapped in two as it slammed down across a section of the Root. The branch was as wide as three wagons abreast and many leafy branches concealed much of its surface. The Root was so large and spun so fast it had a gravity of its own. When the ship’s crew spilled forth from the wreck they plummeted toward its surface to their doom. The scorch marks served as clear evidence as to who was responsible. He urged his steed onward.


When the ship exploded behind him the Pegasus began to pull its wings inward so as to avoid searing debris. Orfaeus turned about and realized his mistake. The god had hidden with the broken hull. By turning his back he had sprung the trap. The bird screamed and he grit his teeth in agony. It spread its wings and left the Root burning all around it. Smoke quickly spread to contaminate the pure atmosphere. Still, he yanked forth his lance from where it rest by his left thigh and held his shield tight against his armored form. When he spoke his voice sounded like thunder and even the Blood Red god paid heed to his words.


“In the name of law I, Orfaeus Faezir, herald of Halren, son of Gaea and god of law and vengeance, demand you cease this mad rampage and be judged!” His legs clamped hard on his steed’s flanks as they wheeled about in preparation to charge.


The bird was larger than three space going vessels combined. He’d seem tiny in comparison if not for his steed’s huge wingspan. It screamed again in rebuke and raised its massive talons in reply.


This was no simple beast however. This was the Blood god in possession of the form and power of the old god of vampires. Alone they were demi gods at least but combined they were an altogether more ferocious threat. Not least of the trouble with dealing with this sort of opponent was its ability to resist most types of harm. Thankfully the lance called Demonscyther was made for such foes. All along its silvered, adamantine length was carved a depiction of a battle between a lone rider and a horde of demons. There was a rider holding forth his lance, piercing his foes before him and leaving a wake of trampled demons behind. It was humming with anticipation of the coming blow. The celestial knight leaned forward slightly in his saddle and called out to his god.


“Halren dubs thee…forsaken!” He struck with the last vowel and pierced the breast of the Blood Red phoenix even as it closed its talons upon his steed and crushed the life out of it. He felt it die beneath him and he could not withhold a cry of anguish as he vaulted away from its twisting form. He began to fall toward the Root as its gravity took hold but he still held Demonscyther. Using his anger over the death of his steed as a focus he cupped both hands together and pushed the lance with an overhead launch. As he plummeted he watched it stab deeper into the god’s breast. Its screams were of pain this time and he laughed as it released the Pegasus’ lifeless body from its talons. Together steed and rider fell toward the hard bark surface of the Great Root.


The Blood Red deity exploded in a fiery mushroom that set alight a whole swathe of the Root’s branches. The two halves of the broken ship were immolated and engulfed in smoke and flames. The wings of the falling steed left burning contrails as it fell.


Orfaeus Faezir landed like a ghost upon the rough surface. It wasn’t the first time he had fallen from his steed and it would not do for a celestial knight to perish from something so mundane. However he bolted and weaved as debris from the ship came hurtling toward his position. He winced as his steed’s form crashed hard onto a cluster of large branches. He only had a moment to regret the damage his attack had unleashed on this sacred place. As the bright flash of the explosion subsided he dared to search upward in hopes of seeing the transgressor’s fate. Two colossal figures streaked like comets in opposite directions. It was not hard to guess what they were. One was the soulless corpse of the fallen vampire deity and the other the Blood god, whether still alive or not was impossible to tell. His part in this was over for now, he knew. With his steed gone and his deity otherwise occupied he was stranded.


^ ^ ^


On the six sided world of Ceaneada they had a legend. It said, The pale god falls and crumbles to dust, the Blood Red star streaks across the night sky, the spider king will be cast out and the last of the lizard kings dies.


The warships of the Driveen prepare for war and drive the scaly kind toward the edge of doom, the sixth side awakens and life is restored, all will know Ceaneada’s truth.


Only one side of the world, the fourth side, bears sentient life. The other sides of the planet were full of grandiose landscapes vibrant with only natural wildlife indigenous to its varied terrains and temperatures. The civilized races of humans, elves, lizard men and the Driveen coexisted more or less peacefully for the past age and served as an example for all other worlds. They shared in their advancements, otherworldly trade contacts and planetary protection. The prophecy had been made and all paid heed. As finally it appeared to be coming to pass panic gripped the various nations. Each race closed its borders for the first time in millennia and the Driveen, a spider like centaur race, herded dangerous human adventurers together in containment camps where they could be monitored and protected.


The pale god fell like a burning, charred comet and plowed into the side of a range of hills. In its wake it left a wide, mile long gouge in the earth and a smoking cloud marking his passing. Even undeath was no more as the Blood god had completely absorbed the power of the vampire god. This was nothing more than a husk. Colossal in size it would take years to rot completely but the sun erased any need for concern. Even the god of vampires was subject to the power of the sun when upon the surface of one of the sacred worlds. The immense corpse ignited and began to burn away sections at a time. Eventually all that was left was a giant heap of ash that began to drift in the strong wind. The black sooty cloud hovered over the area in a pall, commemorating the final end of the last vestige of the once feared vampire god.


Far above the cloud in the star filled sky a blood red comet streaked across distant space. The prophecy had begun to unfold.