{"id":3831,"date":"2026-01-03T23:52:01","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T23:52:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/runelords-01-the-sum-of-all-men-farland-david\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T23:52:01","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T23:52:01","slug":"runelords-01-the-sum-of-all-men-farland-david","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/runelords-01-the-sum-of-all-men-farland-david\/","title":{"rendered":"Runelords 01 – The Sum Of All Men – Farland, David"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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\nChapter 1 <\/span>
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\nIT BEGINS IN DARKNESS <\/span>\n<\/p>\n

Effigies of the Earth King festooned the city around Castle Sylvarresta. Everywhere the effigies could be seen,hanging beneath shopwindows, standing upright against the walls of the city gates, or nailed beside doorways,stationed any place where the Earth King might find ingress into a home. <\/p>\n

Many of the figures were crude things crafted by children,a few reeds twisted into the form of a man, often with a crown of oak leaves in its hair. But outside the doors of shops and taverns were more ornate figures of wood, the full size of a man, often elaborately painted and coifed in fine green wool traveling robes. <\/p>\n

In those days, it was said that on Hostenfest Eve the spirit of the earth would fill the effigies and the Earth King would waken. At his wakening, he would protect the family for another season and help bear the harvest home. <\/p>\n

It was a festive season, a season of joy. On Hostenfest Eve the father in a home would play the role of Earth King by setting gifts before the hearth. Thus, at dawn on the first day of Hostenfest, adults received flasks of new wine or kegs of stout ale. For the young girls the Earth King brought toy dolls woven of straw and wildflowers, while boys might get swords or oxcarts carved from ash. <\/p>\n

All these bounties delivered by the Earth King represented but a token of the Earth King\u2019s wealth,the vast hoards of the \u201cfruits of the forest and of the field\u201d which legend said he bestowed on those who loved the land. <\/p>\n

So the homes and shops around the castle were well adorned that night, on the nineteenth day of the Month of Harvest, four days before Hostenfest. All the shops were clean and well stocked for the autumn fair that would shortly come. <\/p>\n

The streets lay barren, for dawn was approaching. Aside from the city guards and a few nursing mothers, the only ones who had reason to be up so late of the night were the King\u2019s bakers, who at that very moment were drawing the foam off the King\u2019s ale and mixing it with their dough so that the loaves would rise by dawn. True, the eels were running on their annual migration in the River Wye, so one might imagine a few fishermen to be out by night, but the fishermen had emptied their wicker eel traps an hour past midnight and had delivered kegs of live eels to the butcher for skinning and salting well before the second watch. <\/p>\n

Outside the city walls, the greens south of Castle Sylvarresta were dotted with dark pavilions, for caravans from Indhopal had come north to sell the harvest of summer spices. The camps outside the castle were quiet but for the occasional braying of a donkey. <\/p>\n

The walls of the city were shut, and all foreigners had been escorted from the merchants\u2019 quarter hours ago. No men moved on the streets at that time of night,only a few ferrin. <\/p>\n

Thus there was no one to see what transpired in a dark alley. Even the King\u2019s far-seer, who had endowments of sight from seven people and stood guard on the old graak\u2019s aerie above the Dedicates\u2019 Keep, could not have spotted movement down in the narrow streets of the merchants\u2019 quarter. <\/p>\n

But in Cat\u2019s Alley, just off the Butterwalk, two men struggled in the shadows for control of a knife. <\/p>\n

Could you have seen them, you might have been reminded of tarantulas in battle: arms and legs twisting in frenzy as the knife flashed upward, scuffling as feet groped for purchase on the worn cobblestones, both men grunting and straining with deadly intent. <\/p>\n

Both men were dressed in black. Sergeant Dreys of the King\u2019s Guard wore black livery embroidered with the silver boar of House Sylvarresta. Dreys\u2019 assailant wore a baggy black cotton burnoose in a style favored by assassins out of Muyyatin. <\/p>\n

Though Sergeant Dreys outweighed the assassin by fifty pounds, and though Dreys had endowments of brawn from three men and could easily lift six hundred pounds over his head, he feared he could not win this battle. <\/p>\n

Only starlight lit the street, and precious little of that made its way here into Cat\u2019s Alley. The alley was barely seven feet wide, and homes here stood three stories tall, leaning on sagging foundations till the awnings of their roofs nearly met a few yards above Dreys\u2019 head. <\/p>\n

Dreys could hardly see a damned thing back here. All he could make out of his assailant was the gleam of the man\u2019s eyes and teeth, a pearl ring in his left nostril, the flash of the knife. The smell of woodlands clung to his cotton tunic as fiercely as the scents of anise and curry held to his breath. <\/p>\n

No, Dreys was not prepared to fight here in Cat\u2019s Alley. He had no weapons and wore only the linen surcoat that normally fit over his ring mail, along with pants and boots. One does not go armed and armored to meet his lover. <\/p>\n

He\u2019d only stepped into the alley a moment ago, to make certain the road ahead was clear of city guards, when he heard a small scuffling behind a stack of yellow gourds by one of the market stalls. Dreys had thought he\u2019d disturbed a ferrin as it hunted for mice or for some bit of cloth to wear. He\u2019d turned, expecting to see a pudgy rat-shaped creature run for cover, when the assassin sprang from the shadows. <\/p>\n

Now the assassin moved swiftly, grasping the knife tight, shifting his weight, twisting the blade. It flashed dangerously close to Dreys\u2019 ear, but the sergeant fought it off,till the man\u2019s arm snaked around, stabbing at Dreys\u2019 throat. Dreys managed to hold the smaller man\u2019s wrist back for a moment. \u201cMurder. Bloody murder!\u201d Dreys shouted. <\/p>\n

A spy! he thought. I\u2019ve caught a spy! He could only imagine that he\u2019d disturbed the fellow in mapping out the castle grounds. <\/p>\n

He thrust a knee into the assassin\u2019s groin, lifting the man in the air. Pulled the man\u2019s knife arm full length and tried to twist it. <\/p>\n

The assassin let go of the knife with one hand and rabbit-punched Dreys in the chest. <\/p>\n

Dreys\u2019 ribs snapped. Obviously the little man had also been branded with runes of power. Dreys guessed that the assassin had the brawn of five men, maybe more. Though both men were incredibly strong, endowments of brawn increased strength only to the muscles and tendons. They did not invest one\u2019s bones with any superior hardness. So this match was quickly degenerating into what Dreys would call \u201ca bone-bash.\u201d <\/p>\n

He struggled to hold the assassin\u2019s wrists. For a long moment they wrestled. <\/p>\n

Dreys heard deep-voiced shouts: \u201cThat way, I think! Over there!\u201d They came from the left. A street over was Cheap Street,where the bunched houses did not press so close, and where Sir Guilliam had built his new four-story manor. The voices had to be from the City Guard,the same guards Dreys had been avoiding,whom Sir Guilliam bribed to rest beneath the lantern post at the manor gate. <\/p>\n

\u201cCat\u2019s Alley!\u201d Dreys screamed. He only had to hold the assassin a moment more,make sure the fellow didn\u2019t stab him, or escape. <\/p>\n

The Southerner broke free in desperation, punched him again, high in the chest. More ribs snapped. Dreys felt little pain. One tends to ignore such distractions when struggling to stay alive. <\/p>\n

In desperation the assassin ripped the knife free. Dreys felt a tremendous rush of fear and kicked the assassin\u2019s right ankle. He felt more than heard a leg shatter. <\/p>\n

The assassin lunged, knife flashing. Dreys twisted away, shoved the fellow. The blade struck wide of its mark, slashed Dreys\u2019 ribs, a grazing blow. <\/p>\n

Now Dreys grabbed the fellow\u2019s elbow, had the man half-turned around. The assassin stumbled, unable to support himself on his broken leg. Dreys kicked the leg again for good measure, and pushed the fellow back. <\/p>\n

Dreys glanced frantically into the shadows for sign of some cobblestone that might have come loose from its mortar. He wanted a weapon. Behind Dreys was an inn called the Churn. Beside the flowering vines and the effigy of the Earth King at its front window sat a small butter churn. Dreys tried to rush to the churn, thinking to grab its iron plunger and use it to bludgeon the assassin. <\/p>\n

He pushed the assassin, thinking the smaller man would go flying. Instead the fellow spun, one hand clutching Dreys\u2019 surcoat. Dreys saw the knife blade plunge. <\/p>\n

He raised an arm to block. <\/p>\n

The blade veered low and struck deep, slid up through his belly, past shattered ribs. Tremendous pain blossomed in Dreys\u2019 gut, shot through his shoulders and arms, a pain so wide Dreys thought the whole world would feel it with him. <\/p>\n

For an eternity, Dreys stood, looking down. Sweat dribbled into his wide eyes. The damned assassin had slit him open like a fish. Yet the assassin still held him,had thrust his knife arm up to the wrist into Dreys\u2019 chest, working the blade toward Dreys\u2019 heart, while his left hand reached for Dreys\u2019 pocket, groping for something. <\/p>\n

His hand clutched at the book in Dreys\u2019 pocket, feeling it through the material of the surcoat. The assassin smiled. <\/p>\n

Dreys wondered, Is that what you want? A book? <\/p>\n

Last night, as the City Guard had been escorting foreigners from the merchants\u2019 quarter, Dreys had been approached by a man from Tuulistan, a trader whose tent was pitched near the woods. The fellow spoke little Rofehavanish, had seemed apprehensive. He had only said, \u201cA gift,for king. You give? Give to king?\u201d <\/p>\n

With much ceremonial nodding, Dreys had agreed, had looked at the book absently. The Chronicles of Owatt, Emir of Tuulistan. A thin volume bound in lambskin. Dreys had pocketed it, thinking to pass it along at dawn. <\/p>\n

Dreys hurt so terribly now that he could not shout, could not move. The world spun; he pulled free of the assassin, tried to turn and run. His legs felt as weak as a kitten\u2019s. He stumbled. The assassin grabbed Dreys\u2019 hair from behind, yanking his chin up to expose his throat. <\/p>\n

Damn you, Dreys thought, haven\u2019t you killed me enough? In one final desperate act, he yanked the book from his pocket, hurled it across the Butterwalk. <\/p>\n

There on the far side of the street a rosebush struggled up an arbor near a pile of barrels. Dreys knew this place well, could barely see the yellow roses on dark vines. The book skidded toward them. <\/p>\n

The assassin cursed in his own tongue, tossing Dreys aside, and limped after the book. <\/p>\n

Dreys could hear nothing but a dull buzz as he struggled to his knees. He glimpsed movement at the edge of the street,the assassin groping among the roses. Three larger shadows came rushing down the road from the left. The flash of drawn swords, starlight glinting off iron caps. The City Guard. <\/p>\n

Dreys pitched forward onto the cobblestones. <\/p>\n

In the predawn, a flock of geese honked as it made its way south through the silvery starlight, the voices sounding to him for all the world like the barking of a distant pack of dogs. <\/p>\n


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