Amafi said, “Magnificence, has the Emperor suddenly gone mad?”

  “No,” said Kaspar, drawing his sword. “He was mad a long time ago.” He stepped past his servant, nodded to Pasko, and took his place next to Prince Dangai.

  “Take them! Kill them!” screeched the Emperor, and the two remaining Household Guards tried to take a step toward the princes, but were quickly restrained by the legionaries who confronted them.

  Members of Dangai’s Legion were moving quickly through the crowds above and below, urging people to remain calm, not to start more trouble, and to let the drama between the Emperor and his grandsons play out. Kaspar could hear many voices urging those nearby to keep their heads, as more and more people began to express alarm. Many were fleeing the plaza, heading down the steps to the lower area and the street below, only to find their way blocked by those pressing forward to see what was happening. The struggle between them was threatening to start a riot in minutes.

  Kaspar reached Dangai’s side, as the Prince shouted, “Grandfather! What madness is this? There is no treason here!”

  “You say no treason!” shouted the Emperor, and Kaspar could see the veins standing out on the old man’s neck. Kaspar knew that at more than a hundred years of age, despite the sorcery that kept him alive, the Emperor’s ancient heart must be close to exploding. His eyes were wide and his color high, as his cheeks were fl ushed and perspiration beaded on his brow.

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  “Yet you stand next to foreign provocateurs! You say there is no treason here!” He pointed to Kaspar and the Prince, and shouted,

  “Kill them!”

  No one moved for a moment, then the twenty young women from the Emperor’s bedchamber swarmed forward, shrieking and holding daggers high. The first legionaries who tried to block them were struck savagely and several went down, while others reeled backward with deep, bleeding wounds.

  “Defend yourself!” shouted Kaspar, and he stepped between the Imperial family and the closest girl. To Dangai he yelled, “Get your children out of here!” Dangai took his youngest child, a boy of ten, and with his left hand moved him in the direction of his mother, while drawing his own sword.

  One of the Emperor’s concubines hurled herself at the Prince, who lashed out without hesitation, took her below the rib cage, and with a twist pulled his sword out. “Show no mercy! They are all be-witched!” he shouted.

  Had Kaspar not recruited Dangai and his men before this moment, he knew it would have ended with the death of the two Keshian princes and perhaps a dozen or more members of their family, but with the men ready, the girls, armed only with daggers, were killed swiftly. Not one retreated or attempted to protect herself, so intent were they on attacking the brothers.

  From behind, Kaspar could hear the sound of voices raised in question and others shouting answers. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Caleb appeared and said, “We hold all the entrances to the upper court.” To the Emperor, Caleb shouted, “The assassins who were to start your bloodbath aren’t coming. They’re all dead.”

  The Emperor’s face contorted in rage, turning almost purple as he stared with wide - eyed astonishment at his dying courtesans, and then at Kaspar and Caleb.

  Kaspar looked up and shouted, “You’d better sit down, or you’ll burst your own heart . . . Leso!”

  The Emperor howled a mad, gleeful laugh, and Kaspar dropped the charm Pug had given him, grinding it into the stone with his boot heel.

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  Flight of the Nighthawks

  Nakor could barely see over the heads and shoulders of those crowding the door. At least a hundred nobles had already fled the plaza, and more were departing by the moment. But many of them were still transfixed by the spectacle of the mad Emperor. They were creating a bottleneck for those attempting to flee back into the palace, and the jam was making movement in either direction impossible.

  Nakor said, “Bek, can you ask some of these people to move aside, please?”

  The powerful youngster grinned, his eyes looking like two shining pools of light in the shadow thrown by his black hat. “Love to,”

  he said as he grabbed the two nearest men standing in Nakor’s way.

  “Leave now!” he shouted, and if either of the men had been inclined to argue, they thought better of it as soon as they saw the demented grin on the youngster’s face, and started hurrying across the great hall.

  Bek was like a force of nature, pulling men aside, irrespective of rank, and shouting, “Run away!” After a few moments, the crowd around them decided to abandon watching the confrontation between grandfather and grandsons and they also left.

  In just a moment, Nakor and Bek could enter the plaza. As Nakor looked up at the Emperor, he said, “This isn’t good.” Just then a fl ash of light announced the arrival of two figures—Pug and Miranda.

  Kaspar said, “Varen has taken the Emperor’s body!”

  “Oh, this is all too much,” shouted the Emperor. “Just when I had things where I wanted them . . .” With a cry of pure aggravation, he drew back his hand and made a casting motion. From the palm of his hand erupted a blinding white ball of flame and it flew straight to where Pug and Miranda stood.

  Instantly a wall of energy—bluish and pulsing—formed around Kaspar, Caleb, and the princes, and quickly extended in a sweeping arc to protect everyone who stood watching the Emperor.

  Blinding light played across the surface of the protective ring, and across the boulevard thousands cheered as if the spectacle were another display following the fi reworks above.

  A sizzling discharge of energy left the air thick with a tangy odor, 3 3 1

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  as if lightning had just struck, and Pug stepped forward and said, “It’s over!”

  Leso Varen, in the body of the old Emperor, laughed. “It’s never over, Pug! Didn’t I teach you that years ago? Kill this body and I’ll find another. You can’t stop me!”

  Pug pulled the jar out from inside his robe and said, “Yes I can!”

  Suddenly the sorcerer’s expression changed. His eyes widened and he said, “No! You can’t!” The frail old arms moved like a musical master conducting minstrels and the air fi lled with a thrumming of energy that caused more people to flee. Those on the plaza below who had blocked the exit of those from above now sensed that something terrible threatened, and they also turned and fl ed.

  Whatever this was unfolding before them, it had nothing to do with the normal world, and everything to do with evil sorcery. Battle -

  hardened soldiers stood holding their swords in their hands without the inclination to use them, and others found themselves backing away like children confronted by a menacing street dog. Even some of the most decorated veterans of the Keshian army turned and ran.

  Pug said, “I can, and I will.” He smashed the jar on the marble fl oor and the mad sorcerer howled in impotent rage, as a foul green cloud erupted from the shattered jar. The cloud of smoke swirled like a whirlpool, and the funnel raced from where Pug had shattered the jar and straight at Varen.

  Varen leaned forward, and inhaled deeply, sucking the green miasma into his lungs. He straightened and his body became fused with power. The lines in his face started to fade and withered muscles grew plump, and before the eyes of the assembled rulers of Kesh, he appeared younger by the minute.

  “First you interrupt the party!” he screamed. “Then you keep me from killing those two.” He pointed at the princes. “And, by the way, do you have any idea how hard it was to enscorcel those girls and get them to betray their masters? Without being caught, I mean? They were all trained spies! It took me months!”

  Kaspar’s instincts had been correct, for while the body belonged to another, the evil soul was undoubtedly Leso Varen’s.

  “And you, Kaspar,” shouted the sorcerer. “It wasn’t enough you 3 3 2

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  had that thing kill me once, already?” He glanced
around. “By the way, where is it? I really need to get my hands on it. It would be ever so very useful for some other business I have planned.”

  “Far from here,” said Kaspar. “Very far from here.”

  “Well, no matter. I have ages.”

  Pug said, “If you die now, Varen, it’s over.”

  Varen howled in delight. “Do you really think so, Pug? Do you think I would be so foolish as to not have contingencies? You underestimate the respect I have for you and your . . . witch? Wife? Which is it?”

  Miranda said nothing, she knew Varen was goading her. Softly she whispered, “He’s gathering his power.”

  Pug shouted, “There is no place for you to flee to, Sidi.”

  “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” The Emperor’s body now looked as it had at the peak of his power. His hair was raven - dark and his skin smooth and shining with perspiration.

  “Damn, it feels good to be young again!” Varen looked at the fallen girls from his private apartment and said, “Pity. Do you have any idea how frustrating it was to sit there in that old body . . . well, never mind. I can find more girls.

  “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, it’s time to kill everyone!”

  “Now!” shouted Pug.

  Magnus acted. He had been slowly incanting as he watched his father and mother face the mad sorcerer and at the agreed - upon moment he willed himself to his parents’ side.

  Varen raised his hands high above his head and waves of black energy pulsed downward, rolling and curling like water cascading over rocks, yet fl ickering like flames across its surface. The evil magic surged, resembling oil burning on the surface of a wave of water. Yet the flames were without light or heat, consisting only of fl ickering darkness.

  Pug, Miranda, and Magnus struggled to protect those around them, while Kaspar and the two princes looked on in mute astonishment.

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  To the royal brothers, it looked as if the grandfather they revered had been rejuvenated to the powerful man they had known as children, yet he was twisted, distorted, and rendered alien to them by the madness and evil that poured from him. Both stood next to Kaspar.

  Dangai had drawn his sword, but was unable to move, rooted in place by uncertainty.

  Pug shouted, “Let none of his evil touch you! It will consume you like a fl ame!”

  Kaspar looked on in disbelief and horror as those not protected by the shieldmagical defense were consumed. The black fl ame danced over their skin, and those still alive screamed in agony as their skin blistered, and the flesh blackened and turned to char. The liquid flames were unrelenting and even the bone was consumed after a few minutes.

  What was most unnerving was that the black flames produced a chilling cold that threatened to suck the life from those behind the shield. It was a thing of despair and rage, this black flame, and the more Varen railed from his position atop the dais, the more insistent the fl ames became.

  Black liquid fi re, Kaspar thought, and the three magicians seemed to be using everything they could keeping it in check. Kaspar could see that while the three magicians had to act in concert and be mind-ful of those they protected, Varen was under no such constraint. He could lash out blindly in all directions and felt no concern over any other person’s well - being.

  At last Kaspar saw the face of evil, unadorned, unmitigated, and without apology, and it caused him to feel hopeless. How can we ever stand in the face of this? he wondered and for a moment he was ready to concede the day.

  Then he saw movement behind the throne; it was barely visible through the raging black flame beating against Pug’s defenses.

  Nakor motioned for Bek to follow him. “Stay close,” he said, holding up his hand.

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  Flight of the Nighthawks

  Ralan Bek asked, “What are we doing here?”

  “Something good.”

  “I don’t care about good, Nakor.”

  “Then something fun.”

  “All right,” said the young man, a smile on his lips.

  Everyone around them had fled and Bek could now see some sort of confrontation going on between the man on the dais and three fi gures at the edge of the railing that ran around the upper plaza. Then, something icy cold, black, and liquid seemed to burst around them, and Nakor held up his hands, as if warding something off from overhead.

  A bubble of force, something unseen, kept the black fl ames from touching them. “We must be quick,” said Nakor, as he mounted the steps behind the throne. “I can’t do this for very long. It’s a hard trick.”

  When they reached the royal seat, the man before it was shrieking like a fishwife, his words incoherent as he sent wave after wave of life - sucking energy at those cowering below. Only the three fi gures of Magnus, Miranda, and Pug stood against him, using all their arts to protect those around them and on the plazas below.

  Nakor kept one hand high above his head, then with the other touched Bek on the shoulder. “Kill him, please.”

  With a grin, Bek pulled his sword, stepped up and drove it straight into the back of the possessed Emperor.

  Suddenly the black, oily flames vanished, and there was silence. Kaspar could see Varen standing motionless, mouth open and his eyes wide in surprise.

  The sorcerer looked down at the blade protruding through his stomach and said, “Again?” Then he stumbled forward a step as Bek pulled his sword free, and collapsed on the dais.

  Suddenly the Emperor’s body shuddered, and Pug and the other magicians turned. Nakor stood above the fallen sorcerer and he put one hand on Bek’s chest and said, “Back!”

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  Raymond E. Feist

  A monstrous howl, like ten thousand years of rage, erupted from the body, and many covered their ears and grimaced in pain. A brilliant green flame sprang from the Emperor’s corpse and through it a slender thread of green energy pulsed for a moment, then sped upward into the night sky, and then northeast.

  In an instant there was bedlam as most of those remaining fl ed from the upper plateau. By now there was also a wholesale exodus from the lower plaza, so that by the time Pug reached Kaspar and the princes, only a handful of loyal soldiers remained.

  “What was that?” Miranda asked her husband, as Nakor came hurrying down the steps.

  Pug looked at Nakor and said, “Varen’s death rift?”

  “I think so,” said Nakor.

  “What does it mean?” asked Magnus.

  Pug looked at his wife and son and said, “Later. Right now, the Empire is safe and Varen is gone forever.”

  Miranda didn’t look happy at this, but nodded. She turned as Turgan Bey reached the princes. “Highnesses, are you harmed?”

  Sezioti came to his brother’s side and said, “We are fi ne, Bey.” He looked at his brother. “Grandfather?”

  Kaspar said, “Your grandfather died over a year ago, Highness.

  That miraculous recovery when all thought him on his deathbed was the sorcerer Leso Varen taking over his body. It was he who tried to plunge the Kesh into bloody confl ict.”

  “Why?” asked the elder prince.

  Pug said, “Highness, let us get to the Gallery of Lords and Masters and explain the situation to as many of them as we can. There is much to be done.”

  Kaspar looked at the two princes and said, “And to start with, you two must decide how to rule your empire.”

  Pug looked back and saw Magnus approaching with his arm around his mother’s waist.

  “Come,” said the Master of the Imperial Keep, “get inside, please, Highnesses. We must restore order quickly.”

  Pug followed the Imperial party to where over a hundred anxious nobles waited, and he knew that hundreds more would be 3 3 6

  Flight of the Nighthawks

  gathering in the Gallery of Lords and Masters just a few minutes’

  walk away.

  Dangai stepped to the fore of the group and shouted, “Heed the word
s of your Emperor!” He turned to his brother. “Heed the words of Sezioti, He Who Is Kesh!”

  Miranda leaned in to whisper to Pug, “Well, at least that’s one problem we won’t have to worry about.”

  Pug nodded. “But there are others.”

  “Aren’t there always?” she replied.

  Hundreds of Keshian leaders sat in mute astonishment at the story that Pug unfolded for them. They sat in the Gallery of Lords and Masters, with Sezioti on the throne once occupied by his grandfather and great - grandmother. Dangai stood at his right hand, while Miranda, Caleb, Nakor, Magnus, and Bek stood off to his left, at a respectful distance.

  Pug stood in the circle of the vast arena, looking up at the galleries that rose on every side. He spoke calmly, slowly, and tried to explain what he could about the century - long struggle between his forces and Varen’s, but omitted any detail about the Conclave and their role in this. To the Lords and Masters of Kesh it sounded as if a small band of trustworthy magicians had hunted down a renegade of their craft and ended a threat. Most would have scarcely believed the tale that had been told to them, but they had witnessed its fi nale, and they were now inclined to believe any explanation that brought order out of the chaos they had just observed.

  That the succession was apparently without contestation was welcome, for the brothers agreed that Sezioti would rule with Dangai at his right hand.

  After Pug finished, Sezioti said, “My Lords and Masters, tomorrow begins the official mourning of our father, for whatever may have occurred tonight, during more than sixty years he ruled with compassion, mercy, and a strong sense of justice.” He let out a long breath as if he had been holding it, and Pug realized that the new emperor was a man feeling every day of his sixty - one years of age.

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  “We shall endeavor to uphold his legacy and rule as wisely.” He looked around the gallery. “Please, return to your homes and spread the word: all is well within Great Kesh.”