A Crown Imperiled

by Raymond E. Feist

  It was a tiny spinning top. Finally, the Warlock of the Satumbria said, ‘It’s a toy.’

  ‘A child’s toy. The sort of thing a boy or girl might give to their father to bring him luck. Or as a remembrance of happier times.’

  ‘He had a family?’ asked Amirantha incredulously.

  ‘I tend to be sceptical as well,’ said Pug, ‘but whenever I’ve encountered Pantathians before, the miasma of their magic is palpable, almost a stench if you will.’

  Sandreena said, ‘That’s how demons make me feel. It’s how I know there’s one nearby without having to see it.’

  Amirantha could only nod.

  ‘I sense none of that here. Granted, this is an alien place, but I’ve been to many such and this city and these lands, scarred by war as they are, still do not offer any hint of that black evil that usually surrounds the Pantathians.’

  ‘You want to go find them, don’t you?’ asked the Warlock.

  Pug could only smile. ‘I think we need to. I suspect the three of us are powerful enough to protect ourselves, and at worst I can transport us back to this place.’ He took a moment to grab some rocks and make a rough pattern, all the while studying features and details, etching them into his mind as he had been taught while studying with the Tsurani magicians over a century before.

  ‘Ah, could you perhaps make us invisible, or something like that?’ asked Amirantha, obviously unhappy with Pug’s conclusion. ‘While we traipse around looking for a snake-man army?’

  Sandreena couldn’t help but laugh. Amirantha smiled at the sound; he hadn’t heard it often in the last year.

  Pug smiled. ‘I could, but you would have to remain motionless. Not very helpful in a search, I’m afraid. If Laromendis were here, perhaps he could mask us as Pantathians, but that’s problematic, as well. Three unfamiliar Pantathians approaching a fortress, camp or village, are just as likely to cause a stir as three humans.

  ‘Amirantha, have you any shielding magic at your disposal?’

  ‘Against demons? Certainly. Against arrows . . .’ He shrugged.

  ‘Then if we encounter any Pantathians, stay close by my side.’

  ‘Or stand behind me,’ said Sandreena with a sour, mocking look.

  ‘Back to your old self, I see,’ he said.

  She elbowed him playfully in the ribs and said, ‘Still can’t stand a jest, can you?’

  ‘Oh, that was a jest?’

  She frowned. ‘If you—’

  ‘Children,’ Pug interrupted. ‘If you don’t mind; resume your fighting when we’re back home, though how you two can find any humour in the midst of this carnage I can’t imagine.’

  The former lovers were embarrassed and both fell silent as Pug said, ‘Let’s begin.’

  They made their way south for more than an hour, down through the heart of the small valley. Cresting a rise they found themselves within sight of a small stream that ran through its centre. Pug glanced around then pointed to the north-east. ‘Remember that range of low mountains we saw from the boat as we looked for a landing?’ They both nodded. ‘That must form some type of rain shield, and the stream has cut this valley over the ages.’ He looked at the relatively bare landscape above the valley. ‘Constant water, shelter from harsher weather; this may be as close to an ideal habitat as you’ll find on this island.’

  They trudged along, wending their way through battle-scarred villages and farmsteads. Everywhere they looked they saw charred ruins. Amirantha paused several times to examine a blackened spot on the ground and indicated it was where a major demon had died. Pug was uncertain how he could know from the size of the burn mark; several of the minor demons were an impressive size, but as the taredhel magician possessed more knowledge about demons than anyone else he knew, save perhaps the star elf demon master, Gulamendis, Pug deferred to his superior knowledge.

  The valley deepened as the day grew longer.

  Sandreena held up her hand and said, ‘Do you hear something?’

  Amirantha glanced around and said, ‘Yes, off that way.’ He pointed to the top of a ridge a few hundred yards to the south of where they stood.

  Pug said, ‘I can get us that far.’ He held out his hands and they each gripped his shoulders, and suddenly they were standing on the southern ridge.

  Below them was an unexpected vista. The winding river valley they had followed had opened up and the river course turned to the south-east. Along its banks were more sheltered farms, unremarkable except that these had been more recently sacked. The pungent aroma of wood smoke still hung in the air, a legacy of rain-damp, burnt timbers.

  Pug motioned for the others to accompany him one more time and suddenly they stood on the other side of the river, about a dozen yards north of a burnt-out, skeletal house. It had stone foundations – necessary this close to the river if you didn’t wish to sleep on a damp muddy floor for half of the year – but its timber siding was gone, as well as whatever type of roof it had had.

  Amirantha pointed to what appeared to be a mound of burnt scraps and singed rags.

  Pug knelt beside it and discovered the remains of a corpse. Little was left but blackened bone. ‘Magic,’ he said. ‘A fire blast of some sort.’ He moved his hand in a small circle, indicating the untouched ground nearby. He gently lifted some of the shreds and studied the upper half of a man-sized torso and skull. ‘Pantathian. Whatever happened here was only two, three days ago at most.’ He stood and pointed to a small pass running through a range of hills to the south. ‘There’s a road. Well-travelled from the look of it.’ He looked in all directions. ‘I’ll wager that there is a lake or swamplands at the end of this river, at this bend, all river traffic…’ He looked towards the course of the river and again pointed. ‘There! Can you see?’

  Sandreena peered in the direction Pug indicated and said, ‘Piers. Large enough to unload barges and small boats.’

  ‘Logic would suggest that there’s a city nearby, it’s likely to be defensible, so . . .’ He motioned for them to come close. ‘Let’s take another jump to that ridge up there.’

  They instantly appeared on the southern ridge and below them lay a sight to make even Pug feel wonder. A small city rose in the distance, surrounded by white walls perhaps covered in a wash or pale plaster, gleaming in the sunlight. Behind the walls, towers and the tops of building were visible.

  ‘Well, that’s not good,’ said Sandreena.

  They had materialized behind the ragged remnants of a demon army that had obviously fought their way down the river valley, up the hill and were now advancing upon the walls of the city.

  A circling flyer spotted them and dived. Only years of battle-trained reflex kept Sandreena on her feet. She raised her shield above her head as she ducked and the lightweight creature bounced off it, rolling across the ground in a tangle of wings, arms and legs. The stunned monstrosity skidded across the ground, sending up a spray of dust. Amirantha, who had begun an incantation the moment the demon struck Sandreena, pointed at it, and it vanished in a cloud of smoke that carried the stench of sulphur.

  ‘That tears it,’ said Amirantha as the rearmost demons turned around to see what the fuss was.

  Pug didn’t hesitate but unleashed a blast of white-hot energy through those standing directly before him. Instantly they were vaporized in an explosion of foul steam and sparking metals, as armour and weapons turned instantly red-hot then exploded. Many of the demons near the blast caught on fire and screeched, racing in random directions and colliding with their companions.

  The advancing demons were thrown into disarray as those in the vanguard heard fighting from behind before they had even crossed half the distance between the walls and their starting position. Some turned, anticipating an attack from the rear, while others continued to advance.

  Pug shouted, ‘Stay close!’ and Sandreena was at his right side in a single step, Amirantha appearing to his left a moment later. He held his hand high above his head and made a circle with his index finger. A line of red
-orange flame seemed to erupt from the tip and arced until it hit the ground, then followed the circular path his finger had made. A spiral of flames started to spread out from their location and each demon it touched screamed or bellowed in pain. Most retreated before it, but a pair of especially aggressive ones tried to push through and fell at Pug’s feet, their corpses rapidly consumed in a flaming burst that left a stinking, blackened mark on the ground.

  ‘These are not like the soldiers we saw in Kesh,’ Amirantha said.

  ‘No,’ agreed Sandreena. ‘They’re undisciplined and disorganized, but they are definitely battle demons.’

  Amirantha knew she was correct. They were confronted with a mixed group of bull-headed, ram-headed, and lion-headed figures: fighting demons. They were accompanied by others that bore some resemblance to animals, monstrous boars or massive dogs, but with scales instead of fur, horns in multiple locations on their heads, nasty dagger-like fangs and talons the length of swords.

  The advancing spiral of flames caused the demons before them to retreat, while those nearing the city walls were being greeted with a hail of arrows and stones. The presence of the three magic-users was beginning to turn an already disorganized assault on the city to complete chaos.

  Pug lashed out with every imaginable form of destructive magic he could conjure. A scintillating wave of silver energy rippled outwards, and those demons it struck stopped in their tracks, their bodies shaking violently as if gripped by a sudden palsy. Several fell over and thrashed on the ground, while others eventually shook off the shock and continued to advance.

  Pug pushed his hands in front of him, palms out, and a huge blast of wind swept dozens of demons backwards, some of the lighter creatures being picked up and tossed yards to the rear. But still the others came on, heads lowered in a charge.

  Amirantha picked his targets. If he couldn’t banish them instantly, he confined them until Pug’s magic or Sandreena’s mace dispatched them properly. The demons threw themselves at the three humans mindlessly and furiously for nearly a minute. Then a pause came as the creatures who had pressed into the battle saw the carnage before them.

  ‘This lot aren’t terribly bright,’ shouted Sandreena, ‘but they’re smart enough to see this isn’t going their way!’

  Amirantha yelled back, ‘Agreed!’ then lashed out with a punishing blow of his staff, spinning around a stocky, ram-headed demon that had ventured too near.

  Pug unleashed another wave of magic. Crimson flame washed along the ground everywhere he pointed, a fountain of mystic energy that caused demons to collapse and writhe in agony on the ground until suddenly vanishing in an explosion of black, sulphurous smoke.

  The gates of the city opened and a company of Pantathian foot soldiers raced out. Each wore armour identical to that which Pug and his companions had seen on bodies strewn around the valley. The warriors looked tired and battle-scarred, and their armour showed newly hammered out dents and tears repaired in a makeshift fashion, but despite their ragtag state, they seemed determined to help end this struggle, sweeping into the milling demon forces that staggered under the new attack. Brutal hand-to-hand fighting ensued.

  Pug cursed silently, for now he was prevented from unleashing more spells of wholesale destruction. He was no friend to the Pantathians, but at that moment they both struggled against a known enemy, which made them temporary allies. He would not mourn their dead, but he would not create any more of them.

  So, each of the three magic-wielders used their arts and strengths as they best knew how: Pug and Amirantha with magic, and Sandreena with both magic and mace.

  Despite being assaulted from two sides, the demons were unrelenting. Without magic, the Pantathians were no physical match for any demon; but they had larger numbers on their side: two or three fought against one demon.

  Pug now used his arts to distract, trip, or otherwise confuse the demons, and in surprisingly little time, the battle was over. A dozen dead Pantathians bore mute testimony to their sacrifice as the last demon body vanished in flame and smoke.

  Pug said to his companions, ‘Stay close. I have no idea what comes next.’

  Sandreena moved slightly ahead of the two men, prepared to take on any physical assault from the soldiers so the two magic-users could bring their arts to bear.

  One of the soldiers was looking around the field, and Pug noticed that his armour was more ornate then the rest, his helm bearing a small set of metal horns on each side. He assumed it was a mark of rank, for the soldier began to issue orders and those around him moved smartly despite being exhausted. They inspected each of their fallen comrades and two were picked up and carried back into the city.

  Finally, when it was apparent that all the survivors were standing, the higher-ranking soldier stood looking at the three humans, then turned his back and issued an order in a language Pug had never encountered before. The soldiers turned their backs and began walking toward the city.

  After a few steps, the officer stopped, turned, and looked at the three humans for a moment. He made a small gesture with his hand, then turned away.

  Amirantha said, ‘If I’m not mistaken, he just asked us if we’re coming or not.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Pug as he stepped around Sandreena and began to follow the soldiers. His two companions fell into step behind him.

  They walked slowly down the sloping hillside, and onto the flat ground around the city. The area had obviously been cut back recently as a few sapling tree stumps were visible, as was a large patch of burnt grass. ‘Torch rather than the scythe,’ said Amirantha.

  ‘If there are no buildings close by, it’s easier,’ said Sandreena. ‘If these people aren’t constantly plagued by demons, then they have other enemies they worry about.’

  Pug said, ‘Perhaps. But it looked to me as if those communities along the river were relatively peaceful until the demons showed up.’

  ‘Old habits?’ suggested the Warlock. ‘Maybe they just keep the plain around the city open because they’ve done it that way for years?’

  ‘Again, perhaps,’ said Pug.

  As they neared the city Pug thought he detected movement on the wall, but by the time they neared the gate no one could be seen. The massive city gates had been left open.

  ‘Be ready,’ said Sandreena, then she realized that was an obvious thing to say. ‘Nervous, I guess.’

  ‘As are we all,’ said Pug, reassuringly.

  They entered and saw three Pantathians waiting for them, not armoured warriors, but wearing robes unlike the ritual dress of any Serpent Priests Pug had encountered before. Their clothing was colourful and made of a fine weave and intricate design, decorated with fancy thread and bead-work.

  Pug came to a halt a few feet away from them. These three were like the dead Pug’s party had encountered in the river valley, and the soldiers who had sallied from the city; they bore only a superficial resemblance to the Pantathians Pug had encountered years before. These people had more pronounced foreheads, and their skulls were less reptilian.

  ‘Can you understand me?’ Pug spoke in the common trading tongue, assuming it would most likely be the only human language to have reached this remote island.

  ‘We do,’ answered the serpent man in the centre. His accent was odd, but not impossible to comprehend. ‘But I find common speak a bit cumbersome, and prefer to use Keshian,’ he said in perfectly unaccented Keshian.

  Pug couldn’t hide his surprise. He, Sandreena, and Amirantha to a lesser degree, all understood Keshian; the Sergeant-Knight Adamant had lived in Kesh for years and the dominant language of Amirantha’s homeland was closely related to that tongue.

  ‘We come seeking answers,’ said Pug.

  In a remarkably human-like change of expression, the speaker said, ‘Is that not true of us all? Come. You do not find us at our best. We’ve struggled for a long time against those you banished.’

  ‘Demons,’ said Sandreena.

  The speaker turned to regard the
armoured woman. ‘You have knowledge of the creatures, I assume?’

  ‘More than I would like,’ she answered.

  ‘Well, then we have a great deal to discuss; until a few weeks ago, we were ignorant of them. Please, follow me. I am Tak’ka, elected Autarch of Pantathia.’ He and his two companions turned and led Pug and his companions deeper into the city.

  ‘Is this place Pantathia?’ asked Pug as he walked beside Tak’ka.

  ‘That is what you humans call it. It’s a variant of the Lower Delkian dialect, meaning “Home of Snake-Men”. You could not pronounce our name in our own tongue, so Pantathia will serve.’ He motioned for them to follow. As they walked, he glanced sideways and at last asked, ‘You are the one they call Pug?’

  If Pug hadn’t already been surprised by what they had encountered, he was now openly taken aback. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘I thought you’d be taller,’ mused the Pantathian. ‘My people have very strong feelings about you, and they are not all good, I’m afraid.’

  As they reached the centre of the small city, Pug was astonished by the scene before him. Like many cities in Kesh and the Kingdom, the main plaza was large and square with a fountain at its centre. Stalls stood against the buildings around its edge, and free-standing booths completely filled the rest of it. Only two paths permitted easy passage through the area.

  ‘Usually, we only have this much clutter on market days, but with the coming of the Hell-bringers many farmers, traders, and woodsmen have been forced to come here. It’s more of a refugee camp now than a market.’

  Pug marvelled at the people with every step. Every eye turned on them and many voices fell silent as they walked past. The people whispered in their sibilant language and Pug suspected that the Autarch was right; it would indeed be too difficult for human vocal cords to master their language. He used more than a century of observational skills to assess the scene as they made their way through the crowd. Rather than animalistic creatures, he now saw them as a crowd of people no more or less diverse and threatening than the population of any small human city on market day: females with wide-eyed children in tow, vendors displaying their wares, and refugees trying to find a space to settle as comfortably as possible.