Krondor: The Betrayal

  ‘‘And I have new and strange images in my head that I can not quite grasp, either.’’

  ‘‘In time many things may manifest themselves to you and should you need aid understanding them, come to me,’’ said Pug.

  Owyn looked at Pug’s staff, and said, ‘‘Mine has lost its magic ability, it seems.’’

  Pug said, ‘‘We have to find you some more of the crystal that is the essence of magic, mana as some call it.’’

  ‘‘I thought the staff was mana.’’

  ‘‘No, come and I’ll show you.’’ He led them outside and looked around the alien landscape. Most of the plants were fibrous and tough, with growths on them that looked like frozen crystals. ‘‘That one over there,’’ he said. A single plant stood in the midst of others, but it was a golden color while the others were purple or blue. ‘‘This is not really a plant,’’

  said Pug. ‘‘Touch your staff to it.’’

  Owyn did so and saw a tiny flash, and the plant vanished.

  He felt a thrum of power in his staff. ‘‘Look for the golden plants as we walk,’’ said Pug. ‘‘But for now, let us find my daughter and return home.’’

  ‘‘If it is not already too late,’’ said Gorath.

  ‘‘Dhatsavan must have known how long this would take,’’

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  said Owyn. ‘‘If we needed to flee before making this transfer of abilities, he would have warned us.’’

  Gorath nodded. ‘‘We can hope that is true.’’

  Owyn pointed. ‘‘He said straight north of here we would find an area utilized by the Valheru when they warred on this world. Near there we shall find your daughter. He said the Panath-Tiandn view her as holy and will not harm her.’’

  ‘‘That’s a blessing if true,’’ said Pug, the relief on his face obvious. ‘‘Let us go.’’

  They hurried northward as the day wore on and stopped only once to drink water and rest. Owyn saw several golden plants and touched his staff to each, charging it with magic.

  Near sundown they started to hear an odd, low sound coming from the north. As they got closer, the sound grew louder.

  They reached a ridge and found a half dozen of the serpent creatures in a circle, with another dozen arrayed beyond, all bowing to a large hut with mystic symbols painted outside.

  Gorath said, ‘‘This will be difficult, especially those two on either end with staves like yours.’’

  Owyn said, ‘‘A moredhel spellcaster named Nago tried to freeze me with a spell; I’ve made it work once.’’

  Pug closed his eyes, and said, ‘‘I . . . know which one you mean. The magic fetters that inflict damage. I . . . think I can cast that.’’

  Owyn said, ‘‘If we can immobilize those two, then cast a ball of fire at the rest, maybe that will cause enough panic we can get inside and find your daughter.’’

  They agreed on a plan of attack, and when Gorath gave the signal, Pug and Owyn stood and, gripping their crystal staves tightly, incanted spells which sped across the clearing and struck the two alien spellcasters. Both were gripped by forces which froze them in place and inflicted terrible pain on them as energy crackled in the falling evening light.

  The other Panath-Tiandn were stunned by the shock and stayed rooted long enough for Pug and Owyn to cast balls of fire into their midst. Several of the lizard men shrieked and ran, their burning robes spreading flames. Others turned to the source of the attack, and Gorath was among them.

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  Owyn used his blinding spell to stop one, while Pug cast another bolt of the evil purple energy which froze its target.

  Gorath cut down the first Panath-Tiandn who faced him, and turned as another swung at him with a sword. He blocked the blow and turned it away, dancing backward and getting ready for another attack.

  Two of the lizard men turned to flee, and Pug and Owyn struck at the others with their crystal staves. The cudgels proved surprisingly sturdy, delivering sharp blows without shattering. Soon the lizard men were either dead or in flight.

  Pug raced forward to the hut and threw aside the oddly woven tapestry door. In the middle of the hut rose a statue, roughly woman-shaped, but ancient and without detail.

  ‘‘Where’s Gamina?’’ Pug asked aloud.

  ‘‘Perhaps in the ancient Valheru stronghold?’’ suggested Owyn as he looked into the tent.

  Gorath entered, and said, ‘‘This place is already heavy with their essence.’’

  Pug looked around for anything which might point the way to his daughter.

  Gorath picked up a dusty bundle in the corner, obviously not moved for a very long time. Underneath he found a suit of armor, white with crimson-and-gold trim. Gorath dropped it as if it were burning. ‘‘Valheru!’’ he exclaimed.

  Pug touched it, and said, ‘‘Yes, it is very much like the armor Tomas wears.’’

  Owyn said, ‘‘Is it dangerous?’’

  Pug ran his hand over it, and after a moment said, ‘‘No, there is no spirit of the Valheru within it. I think that quality was unique to Tomas’s armor.’’ To Gorath he said, ‘‘It is, however, astonishingly durable and nearly impregnable. Why don’t you take it?’’

  Gorath shook his head emphatically. ‘‘No. I have no desire to wear relics of my people’s former masters. The desire for those trappings is a large part of why so many of my kin have walked the Dark Path. It is that lust more than anything which has kept my people mired in savagery while our eledhel kin have achieved a grace my people can’t even begin to imagine.’’

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  It was the most impassioned statement Owyn had heard from the dark elf since they had met.

  Pug found an ancient-looking scroll and unrolled it. ‘‘Look at this, Owyn.’’

  The young magician came to stand behind Pug and began to read over his shoulder. ‘‘What is it?"

  ‘‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s the spell Dhatsavan told you of, the one which drains strength from those creatures of Rlynn Skrr.’’

  Owyn continued to read, and said, ‘‘I feel . . . odd.’’

  ‘‘Blink and look away,’’ said Pug.

  Owyn did so and found the lethargy passed. ‘‘What was that?’’

  ‘‘Some magic captures the eye and compels it to follow the cantrip until it’s burned into your mind. Let me study this for a while before you try to memorize it.’’

  Gorath said, ‘‘We had better find some other place to study it. Those snake men will be coming back here soon.’’

  Pug rolled up the parchment and looked around the hut.

  There were other items. Pug didn’t have the time to examine them, for Gorath said, ‘‘Too late. Here they come.’’ He hurried to the back of the tent and cut a long slit down the back.

  ‘‘This way!’’

  Pug, Owyn, and Gorath hurried through the rear of the tent and fled up a dirt path that led into the hills.

  They ran until they found the entrance to a cave. Owyn used his light spell, and said, ‘‘Down there!’’ He led them deep into the cave, and they hid around a turn, listening for the sounds of pursuit.

  After a while the silence reassured them the Panath-Tiandn were not following. They sat in the cave. Pug said, ‘‘Well, as long as we’re sitting here, hold your hand where I can read this.’’

  Owyn did as he was told and Pug spent a long time studying the scroll. Minutes dragged by, but Owyn kept the light steady as Pug read.

  Gorath grew bored and moved to the mouth of the cave, then out and down the trail a little way to see if there were any signs of pursuit. He returned to the cave and saw that Owyn and Pug were now both lost in studying the scroll.

  Knowing there was nothing to do but wait, he set out to 306

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  explore farther along the trail. He worked his way up into a small pass and over a rise saw the trail changing; the stones becam
e smoother, as if once this had been a stone roadway.

  With night vision far more acute than any human’s he moved effortlessly through the gloom of a night illuminated by alien stars. He hurried along, sensing he was close to something imbued with ancient magic.

  He crested another rise and looked down a long trail at a giant cave mouth. Carved into the sides of the mountain were two huge dragons. He halted, torn between returning to get his companions and a desire to explore further. After a moment of conflict, he moved ahead and at a half trot entered the dark cavern.

  James stood, panting, his arms and chest drenched in blood.

  Six times goblins and moredhel using scaling ladders had threatened to crest the wall, and three of those times he had personally had to beat back the attack. Locklear hurried to his side, nearly dead on his feet, and said, ‘‘It doesn’t look like they’re pulling back for the night! They keep coming!’’

  ‘‘What’s the situation?’’

  ‘‘That first tower we stopped with the ballista has been cleared away and now they’re moving two of them forward. Of the half dozen siege towers that were built up north, three had been destroyed by the mangonels on the north wall. Unfortunately they had used all the large rocks capable of disabling the towers and three more had cleared the turn in the road and were pushed up toward the west gate. The first one had been destroyed by the two large ballistas over the gatehouse.’’

  ‘‘The ballistas?’’

  ‘‘We still haven’t gotten them repaired. One needs to be completely dismantled and reassembled and the other needs more time to fix than we have. I was thinking if we let them get close enough and then pepper them with fire arrows, they might be burning before they reached the walls.’’

  James looked dubious. ‘‘They can’t have neglected to—’’

  ‘‘Hey!’’ said Patrus, hurtling into view. ‘‘We’ve got a situation.’’

  James shook his head to clear it. ‘‘What?’’

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  ‘‘Can’t you see those bleeding huge towers rolling this way?’’

  Lacking any humor, James held out a hand dripping blood, and said, ‘‘I’ve been busy.’’

  ‘‘Oh,’’ said the old magician. ‘‘Well, there are these two bleeding huge towers rolling up on us.’’

  ‘‘We were just discussing how to fire them,’’ said Locklear.

  ‘‘I was saying I can’t believe Delekhan’s generals could neglect to fireproof them.’’

  Patrus said, ‘‘I don’t know. Why don’t we find out.’’

  He moved past them and lowered his staff over the wall, just as a scaling ladder slammed against the stones. Two fatigued soldiers used forked poles to push it back and from below they heard a scream as a goblin fell from it. Patrus ignored a flight of stones from slingers below that peppered the walls around him.

  ‘‘It’s a good thing they’re so bad in coordinating their efforts,’’ observed Locklear. ‘‘If those stones had kept our lads back a moment earlier, those goblins would be over the wall.’’

  ‘‘Give thanks for small favors,’’ said James.

  Patrus aimed the staff at the nearest of the two towers, and spoke a short phrase. A small blast of fire sped from his staff, and Locklear said, ‘‘That fireball trick he did in the pass when we met him!’’

  James turned and saw a third and fourth fireball strike the structure, and could hear shouts from the moredhel and goblins within. Two of the strikes had started fires.

  Patrus turned and aimed at the second tower, and missed it with his first blast, then corrected his aim and hit it three times.

  He managed to generate another half dozen fireballs at each tower, and soon they were both aflame. Cheers erupted from the exhausted defenders on the wall as a trumpet in the distance sounded.

  James sank to the parapet. ‘‘They’re sounding retreat,’’ he said, exhausted beyond imagination. ‘‘We held them.’’

  Locklear sank to the stones next to him as they heard the retreat from the wall, and the defenders took up the cheer.

  ‘‘What a day.’’

  Patrus knelt, and said, ‘‘Well, that was a good spanking, 308

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  lads.’’ The chipper old magician said, ‘‘Don’t get too comfortable. There’s a lot of work to do before morning.’’

  Half-dazed from the battle, James said, ‘‘What’s in the morning?’’

  With a cheerful tone that almost caused James to want to throttle the old man, Patrus replied, ‘‘Why, when they attack again.’’

  Dragging himself to his feet, James said nothing, knowing the old man was correct. He lowered his hand and Locklear reached up, gripped it, and pulled himself upright, with a groan of a man four times his age.

  Silently they headed down into the keep to begin organizing the survivors for the next assault, while the two siege towers burned like beacons in the night behind them.

  Pug and Owyn blinked as they returned to the here and now. ‘‘What?’’ asked Owyn.

  Gorath said, ‘‘You’ve been studying that scroll for almost a day.’’

  Pug said, ‘‘It’s an alien spell. Very powerful, and it’s now burned into my memory.’’

  Owyn said, ‘‘Mine as well.’’ He straightened up from his position of leaning over Pug. ‘‘It’s a spell to drain energy from those creatures Dhatsavan spoke of, the Rlynn Skrr elemental creatures.’’

  Pug stood up. ‘‘How long?’’

  ‘‘It’s almost dawn.’’ Gorath pointed out the cave. ‘‘I did some scouting.’’

  ‘‘What did you find?’’ asked Pug.

  ‘‘The Valheru place you spoke of. I think your daughter may be there. It is very much like a temple.’’

  Pug didn’t wait and hurried out the cave mouth. ‘‘Where?’’

  Gorath followed, then took the lead, showing Pug the way to the cave mouth with the dragons carved on either side. ‘‘A short way inside, steps led down to a huge chamber. I heard sounds like the wind from within and felt an ancient fear, from someplace I cannot name. I thought it best to wait for you two before venturing farther.’’

  ‘‘Wise,’’ said Pug. ‘‘I think it was very wise.’’

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  Pug, Owyn, and Gorath entered and moved down along a stone hallway, and down the stairs Gorath had spoken of. At the base of the steps they entered the huge chamber. Once a host of worshipers could have fit inside, but at present it was empty. At the farside stood two doors of stone. As Gorath had said, a fetid wind seemed to blow through the chamber, and it filled all three of them with a terrible dread.

  Reaching the doors, Gorath tentatively pushed on one. It was massive, but counterbalanced with great skill, so that as he pushed it swung open slowly, but with ease.

  When the opening was wide enough, Gorath released his grip on the door and slipped through, followed by Owyn and Pug. In the next chamber a glowing blue crystal rose from a dais in the center of the floor, illuminated by a shaft of light from above. Hanging in the middle of the crystal was the form of a young girl, her pale hair floating around her head like a white nimbus.

  ‘‘Gamina!’’ shouted Pug.

  From out of the gloom on either side of the gem two figures appeared, one from each side of the chamber. They were ten feet tall, the color of a grey shroud, and their eyes burned like blue ice. Their features were indistinct, shifting and changing, but they appeared powerful in form, with large spreading wings.

  Gorath hesitated, but Pug shouted, ‘‘Owyn, the spell!’’

  Both magicians closed their eyes and for a brief moment Gorath stood uncertain of what to do. Then he struck with his sword, attempting to slash the creature that advanced upon Pug. His sword passed through the creature as if cutting the air. Only a slight slowing of the blade and a numbing cold shooting down his arm signaled any contact. Then the creature lashed out and sent Gorath flying acros
s the room with a blow that struck like a hurricane.

  Then scintillating lights of every color in the rainbow jumped from Owyn’s and Pug’s hands, each striking one of the two creatures. The creatures stopped dead in their advance, as if stunned to immobility. The colors whipped through the creatures’ bodies, then shot down into the floor, thousands of tiny embers of color, one after the other. Each bright light 310

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  seemed to take a tiny particle of the creature with it, and before the two magicians, the two elemental beings faded, until at last only a hollow echo of the wind remained in the room.

  Gorath stood up and shook off the effects of the blow he had suffered.

  Again Pug cried, ‘‘Gamina!’’ He hurried to the crystal and saw that his daughter was preserved like a living effigy of the goddess of the Panath-Tiandn. He touched the crystal and felt energy flowing through his fingers.

  He closed his eyes and traced the patterns of energy in his mind, and at last said, ‘‘Gorath! Strike here!’’ He pointed to a facet below the girl’s feet.

  Gorath didn’t hesitate and drew back his sword, and with all his might he struck exactly where Pug indicated. The crystal erupted in a shower of gems, splashing the three of them as if a million diamonds had been spilled from a vessel. Pug ignored the falling gems and stepped forward to catch his daughter as she fell. She seemed in a trance, but she lived.

  ‘‘The gods be praised!’’ said the magician. His tears flowed as he hugged his daughter to his chest, cradling her as if she were still the little girl who had come to live with his family years before. The mute child who couldn’t speak but used her mind like a weapon had become as dear to him as the child of his body. In his heart she was as much his daughter as William was his son.

  He gently lifted her chin and whispered her name.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and she stirred. ‘‘Daddy?’’

  Gorath’s eyes widened. He looked at Owyn who nodded. ‘‘I heard it, too.’’

  She opened her eyes, then she flung her arms around her father’s neck. ‘‘Daddy!’’ She hugged him fiercely and he held her as if he might never let her go. ‘‘He was lying, Daddy.