Rage of a Demon King

by Raymond E. Feist

  Erik put down his empty bowl and drank again from the wineskin. “Well, there are no more refugees behind us, so at least we no longer have to worry about a rear guard.”

  Owen nodded. “Now we just defend, making the bastards pay for every inch of ground.” Then he grinned at Erik. “No offense,” he said, remembering Erik’s own sinister birth.

  “None taken,” said Erik. “I’m a bastard by birth; these invaders work at it.” He sighed. “I’ve been more tired, but I can’t remember when.”

  Owen nodded. “It’s the pressure. The always being on guard. Well, as you and your boys have to take over here while I pull back tomorrow, we’ll take the watch this night. You should be able to rest for one night.”

  “Thanks, Owen.”

  Greylock smiled, his narrow face looking almost sinister in the firelight. “I guess you should know, Prince Patrick has named me a Knight-General.”

  “Congratulations, I think,” said Erik, “sir.”

  “Commiserations are more like it. I’ve got Calis’s charge, defending the entire range from the Dimwood to Dorgin, and I think I’m going to wish you had the job before I’m done.”

  Erik said, “I’m in over my head already. I can’t begin to understand what it is I’m supposed to do from here.”

  “You’re just tired. Get some sleep and in the morning you’ll have a better grasp on things. If you forget everything else, just remember you’ve got to slow the bastards down. We’ve got to hold them in the mountains for the next three months.”

  Erik sighed. “Until winter.”

  “When the snows fall, and they’re on the west side of the mountains, we’ll know we’ve won. They’ll starve and die while we wait for spring, when we can chase them back where they came from.”

  Erik nodded, but he found his eyes were getting heavy and he couldn’t think. “I’m going to find where that soldier took my horse, get my blanket, and go to sleep.”

  “No need,” said Owen, pointing to a bedroll that had been made ready a short distance away. “I had that made up for you. Your men are also being told to get some rest. You just forget your worries this night, Erik.”

  “I won’t argue,” said Erik, moving toward the bedroll. He removed his sword and got his boots off, but he didn’t remember anything after that as he rolled himself in the blanket and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  Roo kissed Karli on the cheek.

  “I don’t like this, Rupert,” she said, near tears as she spoke.

  “I know, but I have to see that everything is ready. Don’t wait up for me, and take care of Helen and the children. I’ll be back before sunrise.”

  They stood at the door of their estate house, and Roo kissed his wife on the cheek, then stepped through the door and closed it behind him. He hurried down to the servants’ building and barn, where a dozen of his wagons had been gathered when they had arrived after sundown.

  Luis de Savona, one of his old companions from Calis’s army and now one of his most trusted aides, was seeing to the refitting. Luis had spoken little of his past prior to the day Roo met him in prison, save that he had once served a function in the court of Rodez, the easternmost duchy but one in the Kingdom. Roo didn’t press him. Like many of those who had redeemed their lives in service to the Crown, Luis preferred to forget what had gone before, and Roo respected that.

  There was something dark in Luis’s nature, an anger that threatened to erupt at the oddest times, but Roo trusted him, one of the few men he did trust. And Roo felt the need of someone dependable at that moment.

  Three times the mercenary guards and Rupert’s drivers had fought off raiders. Two drivers had been injured, and a couple of the mercenaries had deserted when the fighting looked as if it was going badly, but while possessing a crippled right hand, Luis was still a fearsome foe with a knife in his left hand. He had killed three raiders personally, forcing the others to rethink their assessment of taking his wagon.

  Roo said, “Luis, are we going to be ready at sunrise?”

  Luis nodded. “Yes. We should probably leave an hour before, though, to steal a march on anyone coming down the highway.”

  “It’s not the highway I’m worried about,” said Roo. “Erik and the King’s army are holding the highway. It’s the raiders coming through the hills we have to worry about.”

  Roo’s estate, like many of those settled to the east of the city, was far enough off the highway that they couldn’t know the condition of the highway once they had left it. “I’ve got to see Jacob Esterbrook,” he said, motioning for a fresh horse. “I’ll swing back by the highway and see if we still hold it, or if we need find another route.”

  “Find another route?”

  Roo nodded. “Yes, I know another way.”

  “Why don’t you tell me now, just in case?” asked Luis.

  Roo didn’t like the idea of what “just in case” implied, but he agreed. “There’s a road Erik and I used to reach Krondor, years ago. It’s a small trail, really, but it will take wagons. You’ll have to drive them in single file.” He outlined how to get to the trail, little more than a goat path in places, but one over which he had taken wagons more than once. “You’ll find a branch in the trail as you reach the foothills; take the southeastern one and you’ll see the farms and vineyards to the north of Ravensburg. Pick up the King’s Highway there if you can.”

  Luis nodded. “When will you be back?”

  “If I don’t encounter trouble, I’ll be back before sunrise. If I’m not here an hour before sunrise, start without me. Tell Karli I’ll catch up with you.”

  Luis looked around. “Duncan?”

  “He’s supposed to be conducting a sweep around the estate, making sure we’re not bothered for a while.”

  Luis nodded. He and Duncan had shared quarters for almost a year, and during that time had developed an abiding dislike for each other. Luis didn’t trust Duncan and put up with him only for Roo’s sake.

  The horse was brought over to Roo, who mounted.

  “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

  Luis waved good-bye as Roo rode out, knowing what was unsaid: that if Luis didn’t see Roo tomorrow, it meant Roo was dead.

  * * *

  Miranda said, “I don’t like this at all.”

  They had gathered in the cave of the Oracle of Aal, after Macros and Miranda had returned to Midkemia, summoning the others.

  Pug answered, “Who does, but we’ve got to be in two places at the same time.”

  Hanam growled and said, “Time grows short. My ability to contain the rage of this creature and not eat is about at its limit.” The Saaur magician in demon form turned to Pug. “You know what must be done, what must be said.”

  Calis had sat listening to the exchange, silently observing the other four in the room. He finally said, “There is a chance none of you will return.” While he spoke of all of them, his eyes focused on Miranda.

  She nodded. “We know the risk.”

  He sighed. “I should be at Darkmoor.”

  Pug said, “No. I can’t tell you why.” He glanced at Macros and Miranda. “Things are hidden from us, and we sense that it is necessary to have these things hidden, for our own protection and that of others, but I know down to the fiber of my being that you must remain here.”

  Miranda and her father had found the door in the Hall and had entered it to the cave on Shila. They had watched from the mouth of the cave as demon fliers sped across the sky, and as demons of all sizes could be seen coming from the direction of where they had been told the city of Ahsart lay. After seeing far more demons than they could defeat, they had retreated to the Hall, returned to Midkemia, and sought out Pug.

  They had spent two days evolving a plan, and now it was determined that Macros and Miranda would return to the tunnels beneath the Ratn’gary Mountains, while Pug and Hanam would go to Shila. Hanam in demon form would not attract attention, while Pug could better keep himself invisible than Macros could himself and Mira
nda.

  Miranda and her father would attempt to seal the rift into Midkemia permanently, as Macros had once done with the rift between Midkemia and Kelewan, while Pug and Hanam would attempt to close the entrance to the demon realm.

  Miranda glanced at her father, then at Pug, and said, “I need to speak with Calis, alone.”

  She rose and moved to where the half-elf warrior sat, indicating he should walk with her. They moved past the gigantic form of the sleeping oracle, a dragon of immense proportions who lay deep in a sleep of regeneration. Surrounding her were men, both young and old, the attendants who were also passing along their knowledge; the Oracles of Aal and their attendants would die in their time, but their knowledge would live on as long as new bodies could be found to contain their minds.

  When they had walked far enough away from the others for some privacy, Miranda said, “What worries you?”

  Calis laughed. “Everything.” Then he said, “I fear I will never see you again.”

  She sighed and touched his cheek. “If that is our fate, we must accept it. If not, we shall see each other again.”

  With elven understatement, he raised an eyebrow slightly and said, “Pug?”

  She nodded. “There are things that must be.” She came close and leaned her head upon his chest, saying, “In time you will know so much more than you do now, and you will remember what we had as a gift, precious and wonderful, but you’ll also realize that it was a lesson, for us both, that we might better learn what it is that we truly needed.”

  He gathered her into his arms and held her tightly for a moment, then slowly released her. When his arms were again at his sides, he said, “I will not claim to understand, but I do accept what you say as true.”

  She touched his face again and, looking into his eyes, said, “Sweet Calis. Always willing to serve. Always willing to give. Yet you have never asked of anyone for yourself. Why is that?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “It is who I am. I have much to learn. As you delight in reminding me, I am still young. I feel that by service I can learn, and through learning, I can discover who I am.”

  “You are someone wonderful and unique,” she said softly, kissing his cheek.

  He nodded. “While I wait in this cave, can you at least give me a hint of what it is I’m to do?”

  Miranda said, “I know only what Pug has told me.”

  “Then let me ask him one more time.” He stepped past her and walked to where Pug and Macros were waiting with Hanam.

  Calis said, “If you do not know why I’m here, can you at least tell me what you suspect?”

  Pug turned and pointed to a huge dais that sat on the stone floor, within a few feet of the slumbering dragon. “That is why,” he said, and everyone in the room felt a shift, as if they were moving slightly, yet no one budged. But where the empty dais had been, now a giant glowing green gem rested, with a golden sword embedded in it. It pulsed with a life of its own, and Calis instantly felt drawn to it and went over to it. “The Lifestone,” he said quietly.

  Pug said, “One has to be shifted slightly in time to see it.”

  Calis looked at the sword. “My father’s sword.”

  “That portion of the Valheru which sought to seize this, embodied in the form of Draken-Korin,” said Pug, “threw itself across this stone, and your father drove that sword deep into it. I do not know why, but that ended the Riftwar. The Valheru were drawn deep within its facets, and your father refused to risk retrieving his sword.”

  Calis nodded, not taking his eyes from the gem. “I will study this thing.”

  Miranda turned to Pug and said, “We can wait no longer.”

  Pug, Macros, and Hanam gathered, and Pug went to stand next to the demon. In his mind’s eye he pictured the device over the door into Shila, the distinctive glyph that indicated which doorway they needed in the Hall. Miranda had memorized it, then given that memory to Pug, so it was as if he himself had stood before it. He nodded once and blinked out of existence with the demon.

  Miranda cast one last look at Calis, then nodded to her father, took his hand, and willed herself and Macros to the tunnels under the mountains across the sea.

  * * *

  “Message from Captain Breyer, sir.”

  Erik rubbed his eyes and blinked. He had managed an hour of sleep after the fighting. Since the day before, when Greylock had departed for the East, they had been attacked three times, most recently at sundown. They had easily defeated the forces thrown at them, thanks in part to Greylock’s having left a squad of fifty additional archers behind, footmen with longbows. Erik knew he’d have to send them on ahead at least a day’s march before he withdrew, for they could never keep up with the cavalry, but he was very pleased with their presence.

  His mission was to hold at the road until it was clear that pressure along the front was roughly equal, then to pull out, leaving an obvious weakness in the defensive line. Prince Patrick and Lord William’s plan was for the enemy to gain ground between Krondor and Darkmoor, but only where the Kingdom wanted them to.

  Erik read the message. “So far, so good,” he commented.

  He dismissed the soldier and regarded the messenger, a Hadati hillman. “Get something to eat and rest, then leave at first light.”

  The hillman nodded and left, and Erik turned over, pulled his blanket around him, and tried to return to sleep. He lay there for a while, thinking of Kitty and wondering if she was well. He was almost certain she had left early enough to avoid the dangers of the road now being faced by those out there in the darkness. Then his thoughts turned to Roo. He wondered if he and his family were safe.

  Jacob Esterbrook sat behind his desk, his face an impassive mask as Roo urged him to order his household packed and moved. “I understand the dangers, young man,” he said at last. He rose and moved around the desk, pointing to a map of the Kingdom he kept on the wall, nestled between two large bookcases. “I have been doing business with the Empire of Great Kesh since before you were born. I have done business with Queg. If the politics of the area are about to change, I suspect I can do business with whoever is in charge once things settle down.”

  Roo’s eyes opened in naked astonishment. He had ridden into the night, reaching Esterbrook’s house two hours after sunset, and had asked to speak to the trader. “Jacob, no disrespect to your business acumen, but the point I’m trying to make is that an army of murderous thugs is heading this way. I know that army. I served with them for a time.”

  At that Jacob raised an eyebrow in interest. “Really?”

  “Yes, and I don’t have time to tell you the details, but trust me when I say these people have no interest in making deals; they will come here and burn this house to the ground after they strip it of everything worth more than a copper piece.”

  Jacob smiled and Roo didn’t like the smile. “You are a very talented boy, Rupert, and I suspect you would eventually have done well enough for yourself, even without Duke James’s help. Nothing like you managed to do with his help, but that business with the grain shortage in the Free Cities, that was brilliant.” He sat down behind the desk and opened a drawer. Removing a parchment from within it, he placed it upon the table. “Of course, had you not had his help, I probably would have ordered your death when you became a nuisance, but as things worked out the way they did, I have no complaints.” He sighed. “To put matters in the open, this is a commission”—he pointed to the parchment—“to negotiate with the invaders and to establish discussions with an eye toward ending hostilities.”

  Roo said, “After they burned Krondor?”

  Jacob’s smile broadened. “What concern does Great Kesh have with the destruction of a Kingdom city?”

  “Great Kesh?”

  Jacob said, “Rupert, don’t be thick. You must have deduced I had something besides my not inconsiderable business skills in my favor when it came to trading to the south. I have friends in high places in the Emperor’s court, and they have made it easy for me to keep you
off the Keshian trade routes. Now they wish to come to a quick accommodation with the invaders, this Emerald Queen, and formalize a new border.”

  Roo sat stunned. “New border?”

  “Prince Erland negotiated a treaty for noninterference with Great Kesh, in exchange for land concessions in the Vale of Dreams.” He pointed at Roo. “Which I think you knew, given that sale of property to me in Shamata. You didn’t realize that the new governor of Shamata would be more than happy to recognize my claims to those businesses, I know.

  “But the point of the treaty is that while we are pledged not to invade the Kingdom, we agreed to nothing that prevents us from coming to a quick understanding with the new rulers of the land to the north of the Empire. Toward that end, a rather large army is marching now, even as we speak, seeking to occupy all lands in the Vale, not just those granted to us by the treaty, and we shall continue to hold those lands after this unpleasantness is over.”

  “You’re a Keshian,” said Roo softly.

  Jacob spread his hands and shrugged. “Not by birth, dear Rupert; by profession.”

  “You’re a spy!”

  “I prefer to think of it as being a facilitator, one who conducts all manner of trade between the Kingdom and Great Kesh, goods, services, and . . . information.”

  Roo stood. “Well, you can burn in hell for all I care, Jacob. But I won’t let Sylvia die here with you.”

  “My daughter is free to leave should she wish,” said Jacob. “I have long since ceased attempting to control her. If she wants to travel with you, she may.”

  Roo left the old man in his study without another word. He hurried up the stairs toward Sylvia’s room. Without knocking, he opened the door.

  Sylvia was sitting on the bed while Duncan stood over her, one foot up on the bed beside her as he leaned forward. He had one hand on her shoulder, in a familiar fashion, and he was smiling his most charming smile. Sylvia appeared angry at whatever Duncan was saying, and they were so lost in their debate they didn’t notice Roo for a moment.

  “No!” said Sylvia. “You’ve got to go back and do it tonight, you fool. After he leaves the estate, it’s too late!”