The Younger Gods

by David Eddings, Leigh Eddings

Genres: Fantasy action & adventure; Contemporary Fantasy; Epic Fantasy

Synopsis

In the thrilling conclusion to The Dreamers, the Vlagh prepares for one merciless attack that will pit her forces against the might of both the Elder Gods and the Younger Gods. All may be for naught, however, if the allies fail to respond to the fact that one within their ranks is losing her mind. The end of twenty-five eons has arrived: now the four Elder Gods will be replaced by the Younger Gods. During this transition, the greatest danger comes not from the Vlagh, who breeds her largest and deadliest insectoid army for a final war on Dhrall, but from Aracia, an Elder God. Aracia has grown addicted to the worship of mortals and believes a young deity wants to usurp her glory. Eager to stay in power forever, the Elder God plans the unthinkable: to murder one of the Younger Gods. But in her madness, Aracia forgets that the Elder Gods are forbidden to take life-as a principle of existence. If she kills the child deity, it will cause the absolute unmaking of all creation...

Release date: August 1, 2006

Publisher: Aspect

Print pages: 432

Sample

Preface



Those of us who devote our lives to the care of Mother were greatly concerned by her rage after the disaster of “blue fire” which had consumed so many of her warrior children. It is the duty of the warrior children to die if it is necessary to achieve that which Mother wants, but deaths beyond counting reduce our numbers and weaken the overmind which guides us all. And, truly, the weakening of the overmind lessens all of us who live but to serve our beloved Mother.

We are told by those who came before us that Mother had been content in the nest which shelters us all until—in times long past—the weather changed and in each season there was less to eat than there had been in previous seasons. It had been then that Mother had sent forth those servants we call “the seekers of knowledge,” and in time they returned and told Mother that beyond the high hills that surround our homeland there was much to eat. And this warmed Mother’s heart. It came to her that should those who search for things to eat go beyond the high hills and bring back much to eat, she could spawn yet more children—and then even more—and soon our numbers would be so great that no other mothers would dare to send their children out to fight with us for things-to-eat, since we would destroy their children and soon they would be alone in their nests screaming in despair.

And so it was that Mother began to alter the children which would go forth from the nest to search for things-to-eat in the lands beyond the high hills. And many were her alterations, for the man-things that dwelt in the lands beyond the high hills were very clever and they used weapons that were not parts of their bodies.

And this gave Mother great concern, for it is most unnatural for any creature to take up things that are not parts of their bodies to use as weapons. Then it came to Mother that if the man-things could do this, could not her children do so as well? She sent forth more of the seekers of knowledge to find creatures who had unusual parts of their bodies that gave them advantages in the search for things-to-eat.

And the seekers of knowledge returned in time with much that Mother might find useful. There were creatures without legs that had long, sharp teeth that could instantly kill anything the creature without legs saw as something-to-eat. There were other creatures who had eight legs rather than six who could turn the insides of things-to-eat into liquid that the eight-legged creature could conveniently drink. There were creatures with hard shells that covered and protected their bodies, and there were still other creatures with hard, sharp mouth-parts that could cut pieces off the thing that was being eaten.

The more dear Mother considered it, the more she thought that the teeth of the creature that had no legs might be the most effective.

Then, in seasons beyond counting, Mother put generation after generation to work on the high hills that stood between our nest and the land of the sunset. There were burrows that would safely take Mother’s children beyond the peaks of the high hills, and there were many flat stones piled on the slope of the high hill that appeared to have once been nests of the man-things, and it seemed that the empty nests might be useful to deceive the man-things.

In time, all was complete, and Mother waited as the elder divinities grew older and less responsive. Then, in the springtime of this present year, all was ready, and Mother commanded the children to attack the man-things clustered near the top of that particular high hill.

And great was the consternation of the man-things when the servants of our mother crossed the empty ground to attack the pile of rocks the man-things had gathered at the top of that high hill. But the man-things knew not that most of the servants of dear Mother were creeping through burrows that went beneath that high hill to come out in various rock-piles lying on the sunset side of the high hills.

And Mother rejoiced, for victory was now in her grasp.

But it was not to be, for disaster came down on the servants in the burrows. Two of the high hills did most suddenly burst into flame, hurling liquid fire high into the spring sky. It was not the liquid fire in the sky that brought grief to Mother, however. It was the liquid fire that ran down through the burrows that made the servants of dear Mother vanish as if they had never been.

And when word of this reached Mother, she shrieked in agony, and all who lived but to serve her shrieked as well, for our overmind was made less by this disaster.

Now, the seekers of knowledge had spent much time over generations in the lands of the man-things, and they had come to learn the way by which the man-things used noises to communicate with each other. And many of the seekers of knowledge had learned how to make the noises the man-things called “speech.” And so it was that when our beloved Mother decided that we should go down into the land of longer summers where there was much to eat, the seekers went up the slope of the high hills to gather information about the man-things of that region.

And while the seekers worked on this task, beloved Mother brought forth many new forms for the warrior children. The new forms were well-designed to overcome the many advantages the man-things appeared to have had in the land of the sunset.

And when the seekers returned, they were sorely discontented, for the man-things had told them many things that were not true. In truth it would appear that the man-things said more things that were not true than were truly true. The seekers had discovered one thing that they felt to be most important, however. Although that which ruled the land of longer summers was called Veltan, there was another man-thing called Omago, who had far, far more power than did the one called Veltan. The Omago thing was not yet fully aware of this power, and it had never used it. There was yet another man-thing called Ara, however, who shared this knowledge with the Omago thing, but it never spoke with the Omago thing about that power.

As the new hatch of the warrior servants matured, beloved Mother sent them toward the land of longer summers, and we all believed that our warrior servants would most easily overcome the man-things, and the land of longer summers would be ours before the seasons changed.

But it was not so, for many man-things had come to the land of longer summers, and they had piled up endless stacks of flat stones to impede our progress toward what was rightfully ours. And once again, the cursed man-things used things that were not parts of their bodies as weapons. We had encountered the flying sticks before, though none of us had been able to understand just how the man-things could make the sticks fly. Some of us were quite sure that the sticks were live things that were controlled by various man-things. When the man-thing said “fly,” the stick obeyed. Then, when the stick was in mid-flight, the man-thing spoke again and said “kill.” And the stick did that.

We searched and searched for sticks that would obey commands, but we found them not.

The man-things had used other weapons as well. The long stick did not fly, but it was nearly as cruel as were the flying sticks. The long sticks had wide points that were alien, having no relation to the stick itself. The points were very sharp, and they easily penetrated the bodies of the warrior servants.

It came to us that many of the man-things we had encountered were not related to the man-things that occupied the land of the sunset and now the land of longer summers.

The struggle on the slope was long and difficult, and our beloved Mother sent many new-form servants into the struggle, but they could not overcome the man-things who hid themselves behind their protective rock-piles, rising to their feet only to kill those of us who were attacking.

Much disturbed were those of us who are the true servants of beloved Mother when she insisted that we should take her from the nest to the region where the conflict was taking place. Her safety must always be our first obligation, but Mother saw no reason to be concerned. She is immortal, of course, but the conflict was raging in the land of longer summers. The nest was safe, but the region of conflict was not.

She was Mother, however, so we had no choice but to obey her.

Then yet another group of man-things came rushing up from far down in the land of longer summers, and that particular group appeared to have some other goal than the defeat of Mother’s warrior servants. There were many reports from the seekers that the man-things which had been fighting Mother’s warrior servants were stepping aside to let the new group pass through without restraint.

And the new group of man-things rushed to the top of the slope that led down to Mother’s region and then they ran on down that slope—almost as if they could not even see Mother’s warrior servants. We have learned—much to our sorrow—that most of the man-things are extremely clever, but the new group of man-things seemed to have little or no thought as they blindly rushed down the slope toward something which only they could see.

And Mother’s warrior servants of several altered forms killed the mindless man-things by the thousands, but the other mindless man-things paid no heed to the fate of their companions, but continued their rush down the slope toward that which only they could see.

And then it was that enormous amounts of water burst forth from the upper face of the high hill above us, and Mother’s warrior servants and the mindless man-things alike were engulfed in water and carried down the slope to certain destruction.

And Mother screamed in anguish even as those of us who live but to serve her carried her back toward the safety of the nest, for it was now clear that water could be as deadly as fire, and that the land of longer summers was now and forever beyond our reach.

Great was the grief of our beloved Mother, but in time the seekers of knowledge persuaded her that there were still two regions beyond the high hills that were not now and forever blocked off from us. There was the land of the sunrise and the land of shorter summers. Many were the arguments between those warrior servants who favored the land of shorter summers and those who favored the land of the sunrise, and those arguments became more heated until those who preferred shorter summers and those who favored sunrise began to kill each other.

And finally, to prevent more of the killing, beloved Mother chose shorter summers, and once she had chosen, the killing stopped.

The seekers were much interested in a low-tree that flickered and put out light and dark clouds which lay close to the ground or rose high up into the sky, for they saw that low-tree as a way to kill the man-things from a long way off, and that would put none of the servants of our beloved Mother in peril.

And the seekers were much pleased when they discovered that the low-tree was most generous, and freely it shared its flickers and clouds with other low-trees of its own kind.

Now other seekers had gone into the high hills that blocked off the land of shorter summers, and they soon found a narrow pathway that went through the high hills and emerged in a well-concealed manner in the land of shorter summers.

Cautious was our beloved Mother, however, and she sent forth servants that could make the noises of the man-things to deceive the man-things and to set them at war one with the other, for it had come to the overmind that the man-things on occasion hated each other even more than they hated us, and gladly would they kill each other, and that would make things easier for Mother’s warrior servants.

We proceeded across the flat place where there are no things-to-eat and came at last to the narrow pathway that led from Mother’s region to the land of shorter summers. Much were we discontented when we arrived there, however, for the man-things had once more piled flat rocks on top of other flat rocks to block our path.

We now had a means to drive them away, however. The seekers entered several nesting places in the high hills below the flat rock-pile of the man-things, there to make piles of the low-trees that flicker inside the nesting places, and dense black clouds passed over their rock-pile, and then the man-things turned and fled, leaving the pathway open to the warrior servants.

Beloved Mother rejoiced and told the warrior servants to move rapidly along the narrow pathway toward the land of shorter summers, for now the low-trees—which almost certainly loved Mother almost as much as do we who serve and protect her—continued to drive the man-things away.

And so it was that the warrior servants swarmed up the narrow pathway with victory almost certainly within their reach.

But then a man-thing that was not a breeder as most of the man-things are unleashed something that no one has ever seen before. We, the servants of beloved Mother, have encountered the fires of the man-things before, but the man-thing who was not a breeder sent a huge wave of fire that was not yellow down the pathway. The fire was blue instead, and it consumed warrior servants uncounted as it rushed on down the narrow path and even beyond.

That in itself was horrid beyond anything we had yet encountered, but then the man-thing which was not a breeder called forth yet another blue fire at the foot of our narrow path. And that blue fire rose higher than the pile of flat rocks the man-things had built, and it showed no indication that it would ever stop burning.

And yet once again, our beloved Mother screamed in agony, and we who serve her also screamed.

So great was Mother’s fury that she listened to a suggestion of one of the seekers—a suggestion she would not even have considered had she been more calm. The seeker declared that since there was only one part of this land that was not blocked, the man-things would certainly know that Mother’s warrior servants would attack them from that direction, and their numbers would be enormous. “You will need many, many warrior servants to overcome the man-things, beloved Vlagh,” she said. “Can you possibly spawn out more this time than you did when we attacked the other directions?”

“Many, many more,” dear Mother replied. “I will bury the man-things in freshly hatched spawn. I will have the land of the sunrise, and my children will feed on the remains of all the man-things that contaminate this entire land that is—and always will be—mine.”

We did not wish to remind beloved Mother that a spawn of that size would severely reduce any future spawns to the point that there would hardly be enough new care-givers to see to her needs, and seasons uncountable would pass before she could spawn more. We tried as best we could to bring this to her attention, but she paid little heed and commanded us to carry her straightaway to the spawning chamber. And, since it is required, we did as she commanded.

Should disaster come again, however, the children of future spawns will be so limited that as the seasons plod on by, the nest of our beloved Mother will have few—if any—care-givers to see to her needs, and in time, it may be that she will dwell here alone.

1



It was well past midnight, and Zelana was standing alone on the balcony of what big brother Dahlaine called his “War Chamber.” It seemed to Zelana that those fancy names had always been one of Dahlaine’s failings. For some reason he seemed to feel a need to give almost everything some kind of stupendous title. If he’d spend as much time solving a problem as he usually spent coming up with a name for it, things might go a bit smoother for him.

Right now, however, Zelana was trying to swallow some very peculiar events. It seemed that they had a mysterious helper who could pull miracles out of her hat—or sleeve—without any kind of warning at all.

Down in baby brother Veltan’s Domain, Longbow had been plagued with a series of very peculiar dreams which were being rammed into his mind by an entity he always called “our unknown friend,” despite the fact that he’d told Zelana and the others that he recognized the voice—but he couldn’t quite attach a name to the speaker. Zelana knew that Longbow’s mind was too sharp to start getting fuzzy about something that important, so it was quite obvious that “unknown friend” had been tampering with him in ways Zelana could not even begin to comprehend.

There was one thing that was abundantly clear, however. Not only could “unknown friend” erase memories, she could also break—or just ignore—some very important rules. Zelana and her family were not permitted to kill things. “Unknown friend,” however, had manipulated the members of the Trogite Church with her “sea of gold” and lured them into a confrontation with the Creatures of the Wasteland. Then, when the two enemy forces were locked in what would almost certainly have turned out to be a war of mutual extinction, “unknown friend” had obliterated them all with an enormous wall of water that she’d pulled up from about six miles down below the face of the earth.

It seemed that their friend had powers that Zelana could not even imagine, although she was almost positive that their friend was using the Dreamers to assist her.

The more Zelana thought about it, the more certain she became that Eleria’s flood and Yaltar’s twin volcanos had also originated in the mind and imagination of “unknown friend.”

The involvement of the Dreamers had been confirmed when the children’s shared vision had mentioned “a fire unlike any fire we have ever seen,” which had produced the blue inferno that had obliterated what had almost certainly been an entire hatch of the Vlagh.

That, of course, brought Aracia’s idiotic attempt to conceal Lillabeth’s Dream right out into the open. Aracia had always been obsessed with her own divinity, but now—probably because of the overdone adoration of those assorted indolents who had identified themselves as her clergy—Aracia’s mind had begun to slip, and she seemed to be convinced that she was now the most important creature in the entire universe. Her absurd attempt to conceal Lillabeth’s Dream had been a clear indication that sister Aracia’s mind was starting to come apart.

The more that Zelana thought about it, though, the more she remembered that Aracia had always been more than a little unwilling to go to sleep and relinquish her Domain to Enalla. It seemed that deep down, Zelana’s sister hated Enalla. The length of their sleep-cycle made change inevitable. Zelana ruefully recalled the time in the distant past when she’d awakened to find her Domain covered with ice that must have been at least two miles deep. It had taken Dahlaine weeks to explain that to Zelana’s satisfaction. He’d assured her that the inevitable thaw had already begun, but it had been almost five centuries before the ice was gone, and Zelana’s Domain didn’t look at all the way it had when she’d drifted off to sleep. Perhaps even more disturbing had been the fact that the creatures she’d come to know in her previous cycle were all gone, and strange new animals had arrived to replace them. Dahlaine had used the term “extinction,” and that had chilled Zelana all the way down to her bones. She’d had almost no contact with Aracia during that particular cycle, but she was almost positive that her sister had somehow twisted things around in her mind so that she could blame Enalla for those eons of ice and the disappearance of almost all of the creatures that had been present in her Domain when she’d gone to sleep.

Something like that was the sort of thing Aracia would do.

Zelana was growing more and more weary now, and she’d be more than willing to hand the responsibilities of the Domain of the West to Balacenia—the adult version of Eleria—but she was almost positive that Aracia wouldn’t see things that way at all, and her priesthood was probably in a state of near-panic by now. Whether they liked it or not, Aracia would go to sleep very soon, and Enalla would replace her. Zelana had caught a few hints from Eleria that Enalla—the real version of Lillabeth—had some plans that Aracia’s priests wouldn’t like very much at all.

“It might almost be worth staying awake long enough to watch,” she murmured to herself. “Almost,” she added, “but not quite.” As closely as she could determine, “sleep-time” was no more than a few months away. She’d long since decided that the pink grotto on the Isle of Thurn would be the place where she’d sleep this time. The pink dolphins would sing her to sleep, and she might even have dreams of her own this time—dreams of a Land of Dhrall without a Vlagh, and a land where her friends did not grow old and pass away, and where she could sing and write poetry, and where it was always spring and the flowers never wilted. Now that might be the best of dreams.

“I thought I could feel your presence here, dear sister,” Dahlaine said as he joined Zelana on the balcony over the “lumpy map” of his Domain. “You seem to be troubled. What’s bothering you so much?”

“Aracia, of course,” Zelana replied. “I think her mind is slipping even more than it was when she tried to conceal Lillabeth’s Dream. I wish that there was some way that we could put her to sleep a few months early this time. Then we could all concentrate on the Vlagh and stop worrying about our sister.”

“It probably would make things a lot easier.”

“What is it about Aracia that makes her start to go to pieces at the end of every cycle?” Zelana demanded. “I was thinking back, and as closely as I can remember, Aracia’s never once gone off to sleep without fighting it every step of the way. Why does she do that?”

Dahlaine shrugged. “Inferiority, most likely. When you include our alternates, there are eight of us altogether, and as closely as I’ve been able to determine, our alternates trade off authority in the same way that we do. That suggests that Aracia’s the dominant one for only twenty-five thousand years. Then she has to wait for a hundred and seventy-five eons for dominance to return. For some reason, she just can’t stand that. She yearns to be at the center of the entire universe. If I remember correctly—and I usually do—the last time she was dominant, she literally wallowed in her position. Of course there weren’t any developed humans around back then, so she was the only one around who could adore her, but as I remember, her self-adoration was more than a little extreme.”

Zelana smiled. “Maybe you and I should join Veltan when our next waking cycle rolls around. I’m sure he was just trying to make a joke of it—we all know how much Veltan enjoys jokes—but he told me on one occasion that he might just go back and camp out on the moon when Aracia’s next cycle of dominance comes along, and I think he was about half-serious when he said it.”

“That’s our baby brother for you. Any time responsibility comes along, Veltan runs away.” Dahlaine scratched his cheek. “It probably wouldn’t have made much difference in eons past, but there are humans in our various Domains now. I don’t know about you, dear sister, but I will not permit Aracia to run roughshod over the people of my Domain.”

“You almost sound like you’re thinking about declaring war on our sister.”

“I’d hardly call it a war, Zelana. Aracia’s people are supposed to spend every waking moment adoring her, so they wouldn’t pose much of a threat.”

“You’re putting our sister in the same category as holy—but crazy—Azakan of the Atazak Nation of your own Domain, big brother,” Zelana said. Then she frowned. “There are quite a few similarities, though, aren’t there?”

“Except that Aracia actually has the power to make things happen. Poor Azakan spent most of his time ordering the earth and sky to obey him, but I don’t think they paid very much attention. Aracia, however, has a certain amount of power, so she can make things happen if she feels the need.”

“Maybe so, but none of us are permitted to use that power if killing things is going to be involved. If Aracia steps over that line, she’ll probably vanish right then and there,” Zelana suggested. “And if Aracia vanishes, will we still be here? There’s a linkage between the four of us, Dahlaine, and if one of us ceases to exist, isn’t it quite possible that we’ll all just vanish?”

“You’re starting to give me a headache, Zelana.”

“At least it’s still there to ache, mighty brother.”

“I think we’ve had one stroke of good luck, Zelana. Your pirate chief has persuaded Commander Narasan not to just pack up and go home. We’re going to need forts in Long-Pass, and when someone says ‘forts,’ he’s usually talking about Trogites. Did you have anything to do with Sorgan’s little scheme?”

“No, big brother. As closely as I can determine, Hook-Beak came up with that all by himself. Of course, the likelihood that he’ll be able to swindle a lot of gold out of Aracia probably played a large part in his decision, but right up beside his greed is his friendship for Narasan. He’ll keep Aracia so flustered that she probably won’t even remember that Narasan exists. He’ll go on down to Aracia’s absurdly overdone temple and persuade our none too bright sister that he’ll be more than happy to defend her—if she’ll give him enough gold.”

“What’s he going to defend her against?” Dahlaine asked. “The servants of the Vlagh will be coming down Long-Pass, so they won’t be anywhere near Aracia’s temple.”

Zelana smiled. “If I know Sorgan—and I do—he’ll come up with ways to keep Aracia—and her clergy—so terrified that they won’t even think about sending anybody up Long-Pass to pester Narasan while he’s building forts.”

It wasn’t much later when the door to Dahlaine’s map room opened slightly, and Eleria looked in. “Ah, there you are, Beloved,” she said to Zelana. “We should have guessed that you’d be in here conferring with dear old Grey-Beard.”

“Mind your manners, Eleria,” Zelana chided her Dreamer.

“I’m sorry, Old Grey-Beard,” Eleria said with one of her mischievous grins. “We’ve been looking for you and the Beloved for hours now.”

“We?” Dahlaine asked curiously.

“Big-Me and I. Mother wants us to talk with you.”

“Mother?” Zelana asked, feeling suddenly baffled.

“We all have a mother, you know, Beloved. Big-Me can explain it much better than I can, I’m sure.” Then Eleria came on inside the large room, and immediately behind her was an extremely beautiful lady.

Dahlaine gasped. “What are you doing, Balacenia?” he demanded. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”

“Grow up, Dahlaine,” the lady replied. “Your little game almost tore the world apart. We’ve had a lot of trouble smoothing things over, and we’re not even supposed to be awake yet.”

Zelana was staring at the lady. “Are you really—” She almost choked at that point.

“Yes, Beloved, I am your alternate. Our Domain is still under your control, however. I promise that I won’t tamper—unless Mother tells me—us—to.” She put her hand on Eleria’s shoulder. “This can be terribly confusing sometimes. This is Little-Me. You know her as Eleria, which is sort of all right, I suppose. She makes me laugh quite often, and laughter’s good for the soul—or so I’ve been told. There is something I’ve been curious about, though. Where in the world did she come up with her hugs and kisses ploy? She has poor Vash so confused that he doesn’t know exactly . . .