Farilane
Praise for the Series
Praise for The Rise and Fall Series
“Nolyn is masterfully executed, and the disparate storylines are equally intriguing as they are spun beautifully together into an ending full of gnarled twists and grim surprises that will leave you clamoring for more. For true fans of epic fantasy, Michael J. Sullivan’s The Rise and the Fall series is not one to miss.” — David Estes, Amazon #1 bestselling author of Fatemarked on Nolyn
“Breathtakingly epic in scope, yet the characters are infused with the breath of genuine humanity that makes Sullivan’s work utterly unique.” — Andy Peloquin, bestselling author of The Silent Champions series on Nolyn
“Vengeance and love test the boundaries of honor in this phenomenal epic fantasy by Michael J. Sullivan. Heart-wrenching and powerful, you can’t help but root for Nolyn and Sephryn as they struggle to unravel the plots against them before the final trap is sprung. I loved every minute and can’t wait to see what happens next!” — Megan Haskell, award-winning author of The Sanyare Chronicles on Nolyn
“With Nolyn, a true master of epic fantasy shines even brighter. Sullivan has an amazing ability to craft a brilliant ensemble of characters and lead readers on an adventure that keeps them wide-eyed and begging for more with each expertly written page.” — Dyrk Ashton, author of The Paternus Trilogy on Nolyn
“Finished it a few hours ago and still reeling from the last couple of chapters. Absolutely amazing writing . . . what a story.” — Beta Reader, on Farilane
“Even in an outstanding series, Farilane stands out above many of the other installments.” — Beta Reader, on Farilane
“The entire story was great, but the ending was an absolute roller coaster that I could not stop reading.” — Beta Reader, on Farilane
Works by Michael J. Sullivan
Works by Michael J. Sullivan
The Rise and Fall
Nolyn • Farilane
Esrahaddon (Summer 2023)
The Legends of the First Empire
Age of Myth • Age of Swords • Age of War
Age of Legend • Age of Death • Age of Empyre
The Riyria Revelations
Theft of Swords (The Crown Conspiracy & Avempartha)
Rise of Empire (Nyphron Rising & The Emerald Storm)
Heir of Novron (Wintertide & Percepliquis)
The Riyria Chronicles
The Crown Tower • The Rose and the Thorn
The Death of Dulgath • The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter
Forthcoming: Drumindor
Standalone Novels
Hollow World (Sci-fi Thriller)
Short Story Anthologies
Heroes Wanted: “The Ashmoore Affair” (Fantasy: Riyria Chronicles)
Unfettered: “The Jester” (Fantasy: Riyria Chronicles)
Unbound: “The Game” (Fantasy: Contemporary)
Unfettered II: “Little Wren and the Big Forest” (Fantasy: Legends of the First Empire)
Blackguards: “Professional Integrity” (Fantasy: Riyria Chronicles)
The End: Visions of the Apocalypse: “Burning Alexandria” (Dystopian Sci-fi)
Triumph Over Tragedy: “Traditions” (Fantasy: Tales from Elan)
The Fantasy Faction Anthology: “Autumn Mist” (Fantasy: Contemporary)
About the Book
About the Book
(From the Back Cover)
Some truths are dangerous, certain secrets best concealed, and one story never should have been written at all.
Being an unwanted twin in the imperial line of succession, Farilane becomes a scholar, an adventurer, and—in a time when reading is forbidden—a hunter of books. Her singular obsession is finding the mythical Book of Brin, a tome not just lost but intentionally buried. Although she is respected and beloved by the Teshlor Knights, not even their legendary skills can protect her, for what she finds is more dangerous than what she sought.
From the three-time New York Times best-selling author Michael J. Sullivan, Farilane is the second novel in The Rise and Fall trilogy. This latest set of stories sits snugly between the Legends of the First Empire series and the Riyria books (Revelations and Chronicles). With this tale, Michael continues his tradition of unlikely heroes who must rise to the call when history knocks, demanding to be let in. This series will conclude in the summer of 2023 with the release of Esrahaddon, the final piece in a narrative that began in 2008 and contains nineteen full-length novels spread across four series.
Copyright
Farilane is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the copying, scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book (other than for review purposes) without permission is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book, prior written permission can be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Farilane © 2022 by Michael J. Sullivan
Cover illustration © 2020 by Marc Simonetti
Cover design © 2021 Shawn T. King
Map © 2021 by Michael J. Sullivan
Interior design © 2021 Robin Sullivan
Version 1.02
978-1-943363-31-5
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Riyria Enterprises, LLC
Learn more about Michael’s writings at michael-j-sullivan.com
To contact Michael, email him at [email protected]
World Map
World Map
Maps are problematic on e-readers that don’t have adequate resolution to display them, and for this reason you can access a high-resolution map online from this link.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my fellow indie-authors.
Look how far we’ve come, and always remember that the road ahead has no limits.
May each of you find as much joy as I have by braving your own path.
Contents
Praise for the Series
Works by Michael J. Sullivan
About the Book
Copyright
World Map
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter 1: The Twelfth Night
Chapter 2: The Ragman
Chapter 3: The Book
Chapter 4: The Bear Man
Chapter 5: The Scribe
Chapter 6: The Truth of His Story
Chapter 7: The Ferry
Chapter 8: The Mystic Wood
Chapter 9: The Greenway Round
Chapter 10: The Truth About Lies
Chapter 11: Dibben
Chapter 12: Unexpected Consequences
Chapter 13: Merredydd
Chapter 14: Sephryn
Chapter 15: Going Home
Chapter 16: Homecoming
Chapter 17: The First Minister
Chapter 18: Birthday
Chapter 19: The Gamble
Chapter 20: The Horn
Chapter 21: The Library
Chapter 22: The Prophecy
Chapter 23: A Blizzard in Summer
Afterword
Kickstarter Backers
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Author’s Note
Author’s Note
Since you’re reading this, I must assume you fall into one of three categories: You’ve read Nolyn and enjoyed it enough to come back for more; or you’re a completionist and insist on finishing all the books of a series, regardless of how you feel about them; or it could also be that you just picked this book off a shelf because you liked the cover but know nothing about me or the world of Elan. Given these three options, I’d like to say thank you for coming back, or for sticking with me, or welcome to my world.
The book you’re about to read is the second in a trilogy, but don’t fret, newcomer, because it’s not necessary to start at the beginning. Like the previous book, Nolyn, this one can be read as a stand-alone story. The reason why has to do with how I structured the trilogy. Most of my other series tend to be a continuous story divided into complete episodes. They feature the same characters that develop and grow over the course of a multi-book plot. For this series, The Rise and Fall, I went a different way.
My desire was to tell the two-thousand-year history of the Novronian Empire, something that features prominently in my two other series. Legends of the First Empire shows the empire coming into existence. The other, the Riyria Revelations series, takes place long after the empire is gone. This left a glaring hole between the two, where readers could almost connect the dots, but not quite.
I was faced with the dilemma of covering a lot of ground. To do this in the same manner as I had with Legends and Riyria would require hundreds of novels. I’m not a young man, and I don’t have that kind of time.
My solution was to create a trilogy of “one-and-done” novels that focus on the lives of three significant individuals who alter the course of history and highlight the most distinct periods in that era—hence Nolyn, Farilane, and Esrahaddon. These books are separated by significant gaps in time. Nolyn starts eight hundred and fifty years after Legends. Farilane picks up a bit over one thousand years later. Esrahaddon will take place two hundred years after that. As a result, there isn’t much opportunity for long-term character development—unless you realize that the main character in each book is the empire itself.
Farilane is the second novel in this series, forming the keystone that joins the eras. As such, Princess Farilane has a foot in both worlds, so the novel blends the elements and styles of both Legends and Riyria.
This was a fun book to create, and truth be told, the one I was most excited to write. I began sketching it in note form long before the other two. Farilane heavily influenced each of the other books’ focus and direction, which I think would have pleased her. There was even a time when I considered skipping Nolyn altogether and revealing what had happened through commentary and discoveries in ancient texts. In the end, I decided that was cheating. I really couldn’t skip the first eighteen hundred years and claim to have covered the history of the empire. I’m glad I didn’t, as Nolyn helped provide vital foundations for what comes next.
For those of you who are curious, or concerned, or both, the draft of Esrahaddon has already been completed. It will be my twentieth published novel, and unless editors run rampant through its pages with bloody scalpels dripping with red ink, it will be my longest. If nothing unforeseen happens this year or the next, Esrahaddon should release in the early summer of 2023. And we all know that nothing unexpected is likely to occur in the 2020s. That’s just ridiculous.
My greatest hope at present is that everyone reading this Author’s Note will also be here to read the one in Esrahaddon. I don’t care if you buy or read the book. I’d just like for you to still be around.
Michael J. Sullivan
January 13th, 2022
Chapter 1: The Twelfth Night
Chapter One
The Twelfth Night
Another series of bright-white explosions erupted where sea met shore as Farilane stood on the rocky coast and scanned the darkening sky for the star that would guide them to the treasure. That was the hope. Being that this was the twelfth night she’d stood at the same spot, Farilane had her doubts.
On the first three evenings, it had rained. The next two, while dry, were frustratingly overcast. The sixth day dawned blue, but by late afternoon, the clouds had returned as if they’d forgotten something. Poor weather continued throughout the seventh and eighth days. The three after that were literal washouts, forcing a retreat to her field camp or risk being rinsed into the sea. Trapped in her leaky tent, Farilane had reread her notebooks, verifying the calculations for the hundredth time. She’d missed nothing. That shelf of stone partway down a rocky cliff was the correct place. Everything except the weather was perfect, but time was running out. She couldn’t bear to wait for another year.
Then on the twelfth night, she caught a break. A star appeared.
“Is that it?” Kolby asked, pointing at the singular pinprick of light on the darkening horizon. There was hope in his voice.
“Tell you in a minute.” Farilane took out her astrolabe and positioned it directly over the staff she’d placed days before. She struggled to align the device’s rule with one hand while dangling the delicate instrument with the other. “Be a dear and hold this for me, will you?” She offered the ring at the top of the disk to him.
Kolby took the brass apparatus of movable plates with his left hand. Farilane had known he’d use his left before she had offered the instrument. His choice wasn’t arbitrary; nothing about Kolby ever was. He always reserved his right hand for his sword.
“What is this thing?” he asked, his eyes studying the device, his nose turned up as if the metal reeked.
“You’re holding the entire universe in your hands.” She smiled. “So don’t drop it.”
Kolby narrowed his eyes, first at her and then at the device, his concern turning to skepticism. He held the large ring at the full extent of his arm so that the bottom barely touched the top of the measurement staff, leaving the disk to hang like a lantern.
A lantern. Farilane smiled at the idea. Yes, that’s exactly what it is, a tool to illuminate the world.
“Now hold still,” she commanded.
“How still?” he asked.
Typical Kolby: precise, exacting, and literal. A byproduct of the training, no doubt. All Teshlors were that way to a degree—more than a bit inhuman, until you saw them drunk or angry. That didn’t happen often. She suspected that controlling one’s rage was also part of the training. If it wasn’t, it ought to be. An enraged Kolby topped Farilane’s list of the scariest things she’d ever seen.
“Like you’re about to loose an arrow for a very important shot, one you can’t afford to miss.”
Kolby nodded, took a deep breath, then held it. The astrolabe hung from his fist as if nailed to a tree.
Farilane resumed lining up the rule with the star. As she did, Virgil stirred. The philosopher woke with an unhappy moan. He had been napping on the cold rock for the last two hours.
Wiping his eyes, he got to his feet. Snow-white hair, long beard, and a dark cloak flew about him like living things. As he stretched his arms and neck, a grimace relented to the demands of a wide yawn.
How can he sleep on the eve of such an auspicious discovery, not to mention on such a narrow ledge?
The old philosopher was such a sound sleeper that he could doze on the back of a cow caught in a stampede during a thunderstorm. He’d always been that way and had gotten better at it with age. “Well?” he asked.
“Give me a second,” Farilane said. She rotated the astrolabe’s rete to the proper position, realigned the rule with the star, then read the face of the disk. “That’s the Eye of the Bear, the brightest star in the constellation Grin the Brown—first evening star of early spring.”
“Are you done? Can I move now?” Kolby asked.
“No. Keep holding that bow steady, soldier.” Farilane offered him a grin, then moved around to the other side of the astrolabe and peered through the same sight holes on the rule. “There!” she yelled, pointing down near the foaming water at a dark gap in the honeycombed cliff.
“What’s she pointing at?” Kolby asked Cedric, a note of concern in his voice. The younger soldier instantly advanced, and after taking a look, he shrugged.
Farilane had nearly forgotten Cedric was with them. Although physically larger than Kolby, he seemed smaller. She attributed this conflicting phenomenon to personality. Kolby had a presence, but Farilane couldn’t remember having heard Cedric speak. She had supposed he might be mute but felt it would be impolite to ask. “Relax,” she told the pair. “We aren’t in any danger of being attacked.”
“You always say that,” Kolby grumbled.
“What are you worried about?” She looked up at the rapidly fading, orange-cast sky, where a handful of seabirds soared. “Man-eating seagulls?”
“Goblins,” Virgil said. “They didn’t name this the Goblin Sea because it’s shaped like one.”
“The Ba Ran are seafarers,” Farilane pointed out. “We’d see their ships if any were near.”
“Not necessarily,” Virgil added. “This area is littered with coves and caves. They could hide their vessels in any of them. That happens all the time. Haven’t you heard about that poor little village of Tur? It’s been ravaged over and over.”
“That’s all the way down on the southern tip of Belgreig. And goblins aren’t raiding that coast. Pirates are.”
“Perhaps, but let’s not forget that a thousand years ago, goblins came from out here and used a network of underground waterways to attack Percepliquis and kill Emperor Nyphron.”
“That’s only one theory,” Farilane qualified. “We both know there are several contradictory accounts of the first emperor’s death. And for the record, he died one thousand twenty-nine years, eleven months, and two weeks ago.”
They all stared at her as if she’d belched.
“How many hours?” Virgil asked and then chuckled.
Confused as to why the scholar was laughing, she replied, “Sixteen and a half.” She glanced at the astrolabe. “Give or take a minute or two.”
Virgil stopped laughing, and they all stared at her, dumbfounded.
“What?” she asked. “How precise do you need me to be?”
His expression changed from amusement to shock. “Ah no. That’s . . . that’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Or would you prefer to discuss the ramifications of the Belgric War for a few hours before getting back to why I practically screamed There! twenty minutes ago?”
No one said anything.
“Good. Because I was pointing out the cave entrance we’re looking for. I found it. It’s that one down below us.” She took the astrolabe back from Kolby and carefully stowed it in her pack. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
“You can’t be serious,” Virgil said. “It’s nearly night. Now that we know which hole to explore, can’t this wait until morning?”
Farilane pointed at a hazy gray curtain of rain sweeping across the Goblin Sea. “Wind is blowing our way. The last storm trapped us for days, and we’re running low on food. Besides, all these crevasses look the same, and if we come back in the morning, I doubt I’ll be able to identify the right one.”
The old man frowned as he looked down the slick, jagged face of the cliff. “Allow me to rephrase. You don’t expect me to climb over slippery stone in the dark, do you?”
“Why not?”
The old man replied with a dangling jaw.
When she didn’t respond, he explained, “I’m not a limber young woman. I’m sixty-eight years old, and even in my prime no one would have described me as athletic.” He took a step forward for a better look, then grimaced. “One slip and your man-eating seagulls will be pecking flesh off my shattered bones.”
“Virgil,” she began, placing her hands on his shoulders, “life is a gamble, my friend. The trick is to wager wisely, balancing risk against reward. At your age, nothing is too perilous. Working for a wedge of cheese at a leper colony wouldn’t be out of the question. And the reward waiting in that cave is so much better than a bit of cheese.”
“You can’t know that. The book you’re searching for has been intentionally hidden for centuries. I have to think there’s a reason. Perhaps you should reconsider the implications of unleashing such a thing upon the world.”
“I seek the truth, and the truth is always a good and noble goal.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” She nodded sharply. “For example, earlier you said you weren’t a limber young woman. This was meant to suggest the contrast between the two of us. But Cedric might interpret the comment to verify the all-too-vocal and false rumor that the imperial family is human. It’s possible Cedric could repeat the comment, erroneously describing me to his friends as a young woman, and thus further the misconception. If repeated enough times, that inaccuracy could be believed by millions. So, what began as an innocent joke between friends might become a distorted reality for future generations.” She hoisted her pack to her shoulder and turned to the younger knight. “For the record, I’m old enough to be Virgil’s great-great-great-grandmother, and I’m not a woman.”
Cedric eyed the princess suspiciously.
Farilane frowned as she considered the myriad of things the young knight could be thinking. “What I meant is that I’m only part human. My father is descended from Nyphron who was elven—or Fhrey as they used to call themselves.” She paused to calculate. “Since all the emperors except Nolyn took human wives—and because both Nolyn and his wife, Sephryn, were half-elven, which resulted in no bloodline dilution—that makes me only one thirty-second elven. Arguably, I am more human than elf, but it’s still not technically accurate to call me a woman.”
“It’s truly a wonder why you aren’t married.” Virgil shook his head. “You knew what I meant.”
“I did. He didn’t. Facts are important. They are the notches we cut in trees as we explore reality—lose them, and we might never find our way.”
The old man shook his head again. “The point I was making is that I can’t climb as easily as the three of you can.”
“What do you want from me, Virgil?” Farilane slapped her sides. “The knights aren’t allowed to abandon me even to assist my tutor, and you can’t climb back up the rope by yourself. I can’t leave you here on the side of this cliff. You’d fall asleep, roll off, and die. Either we climb down now or give up, and I’m not willing to quit—not after so many decades of searching—not when we’re this close.” She took a breath, then added, “Look, it will be okay. I promise. And when we get back to camp, you can have pie.”
“Oh really? Pie? Well, that’s a completely different argument, now, isn’t it?” Virgil peered below at the violent war being waged between sea and coast. “And you’re right.” He sighed. “I’m not risking much, am I?”
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