Rage of a Demon King

by Raymond E. Feist

  Roo killed one man and drove another off, turning his horse to find Luis nursing a cut on his right arm while holding his bloody dagger. Roo said, “You madman. Next time, stay behind with the women, and if you’ve got to cut throats, do it from there.”

  Luis grinned and said, “I think I have to. I’ve never been that good a rider.” He used his chin to indicate his wound. “I’d do better on foot.”

  Roo marveled at his calm. “Go get Karli to dress that. I’m going to see how badly we’ve done.”

  Roo rode to the head of the little caravan and found that two of his guards were dead and two others had run into the early morning gloom. The remaining six, with Luis, himself, and Jason, were barely enough to defend two wagons, let alone a dozen. Roo didn’t hesitate. He said to the mercenaries, “Get back to the last wagon.” As they rode back to the end of the line of wagons, Roo turned to those drivers still on their wagons and said, “Get moving now! Straight on to Wilhelmsburg and to the Inn of the Morning Mist. You get there in one piece, I’ll give you a year’s wages in bonus.”

  The teamsters didn’t hesitate, but at once shouted and got their animals moving. Roo rode to the remaining six guards and said, “We’re going to defend the last wagon. I’ll personally kill the first man who tries to run away.”

  Luis said, “You think they’re coming back?”

  “Absolutely. I think we just surprised them when we put up a fight.”

  “How many?” asked Jason, trying not to look frightened. The former-waiter-turned-bookkeeper had never been exposed to violence beyond an alehouse brawl before, and was trying mightily to be a calming influence on behalf of the children.

  “Too many,” said Roo. He got out of the saddle and led his horse to the rear of the wagon, tying her reins to the tailgate. He then moved to the front and mounted, picking up the reins from the wagon driver, who sat shaking, and said, “Hang on.”

  He turned the wagon northward and shouted, “Follow me!”

  The six guards, Luis, Jason, and the wagonload of his family and the Jacobys headed away from the road. Roo knew it was a desperate gamble, but if he could get far enough from the highway when the raiders returned, they might not miss the one wagon seeking to find the small, little-used road eastward, while they pillaged the wagons trying to race to the east.

  “They’ll never make it,” said Luis.

  “Probably not, but if any does, I will make good on my word and give the driver a year’s wages in gold, on the spot.”

  Luis settled back into the wagon bed. It was crowded as he and Jason sat with the children and the two women, but at least for the moment they were safe.

  Their luck didn’t hold long. Roo had found a small game trail that led into sparse woodlands, but it forced them into a gully that eventually became too narrow for the wagon to navigate. They backtracked until they found another route north, and again tried to find a way to the small road leading east.

  Near midday, riders could be heard over a small rise, and for several tense minutes, Roo, Luis, and the mercenaries waited silently with weapons drawn while Karli, Helen, and Jason kept the children quiet. When the last rider passed, less than twenty yards off but out of sight, Roo signaled to turn toward the east and see if they could find yet another route.

  By sundown they were completely lost in the woods. Around a cold camp, they discussed options, and one of the mercenaries said, “I’m for just leaving this wagon and striking east, Mr. Avery.”

  Roo said, “How well do you know these hills?”

  “Not very, but our boys are to the east, so you said, and any road worth calling such is going to have enemy cavalry riding along more likely than not, so if we keep to the woods we could slip past them.”

  Roo said, “Between here and Darkmoor Province there are a dozen little villages, give or take, and we might blunder into one of them, but if we don’t have a local guide, what we’ll find is a sudden rise that turns into a big enough hill it might as well be a mountain for how easy we can get around it.” He glanced around the quickly darkening woods and said, “It’s easy to get turned around in the woods if you don’t know the way. You could be heading right into the enemy’s arms if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  The camp was so somber the children were silent, looking at Roo and the other adults with large eyes. Karli and Helen did what they could to reassure them, but in a quiet way so as to encourage their continued silence.

  After a moment, Roo said, “But I think you may be right. Unload the wagon and get blankets and food. Leave the rest and we’ll start walking tomorrow.”

  The mercenaries glanced at one another, but no one seemed willing to say more, so they did as ordered. Roo sat and quietly watched his children, the Jacobys, and the others in the failing light.

  Helen had his son on her lap, singing to him softly as Karli held Abigail in her arms. Willem leaned against his mother’s shoulder, fighting off sleep, determined to stay awake, while Nataly was already asleep, on a blanket between Helen and Karli. Jason made himself useful repacking the food so it could be carried, and Luis kept close to the mercenaries, keeping them calm and promising them bonuses when they got to Wilhelmsburg.

  When the children were all asleep, Karli came to sit next to Roo. “How is your shoulder?” she asked.

  Roo realized that he had not thought about it since the encounter with the raiders, and he flexed it. “A little stiff, but I’ll be all right.”

  She leaned in to him, whispering, “I’m frightened.”

  He put his left arm around her. “I know. But if we’re lucky we’ll be safe tomorrow.”

  She said nothing, just sitting there, stealing comfort from his presence. Throughout the night they sat silently, dozing, but unable to sleep, as the night noises of the woods kept startling them.

  As the sky lightened, a few hours before dawn, Roo quietly said, “Get the children up.”

  As Karli did so, Roo said to Luis, “We need to be moving before dawn.”

  “Which way?”

  “East and north. If we run into an obstacle in one direction, we head the other. But we only turn around and go south or west if there is no other way. Eventually we’ll reach that road I told you of, or we’ll hit the farms outside Wilhelmsburg.”

  Luis nodded. “The mercenaries are not to be trusted.”

  “I know, but if we make it clear they stand a better chance with us, staying in a group, than they would on their own—”

  The sound of horses alerted them and they both turned, to see the six mercenary guards riding out in the predawn gloom.

  “Damn!” said Luis.

  Roo said to Jason and Helen, who were now awake, “We don’t have time to eat. Grab what you can and let’s get away. If there are any raiders nearby, they’ll hear that clatter and come looking.”

  The children complained, but their mothers quickly silenced them and handed them pieces of bread to chew on while they walked. Roo had studied their surroundings the evening before and had spied a small dry creek bed that ran to the northeast. He decided that would most certainly take them upward, into the foothills, so he would follow it until they found a clear route to the east or north.

  The going was slow. The children couldn’t move quickly and they tired easily, but they managed to keep going for a full hour. Then they had to rest.

  There were no signs of pursuit. After resting for a quarter hour, Jason picked up Helmut, freeing Karli from carrying the youngest of the four children.

  They continued along, finding the way difficult, with deadfalls and debris providing constant obstacles. When it was near midday, they heard distant sounds of fighting echoing through the trees. They couldn’t tell from which direction the sounds came.

  They moved on.

  Erik said, “We’ve done well.”

  Greylock said, “Given the total collapse at Krondor, well enough.” He consulted reports that had come his way from positions to the north and south of him and said, “We have on
e nasty surprise.”

  “What?”

  “Great Kesh has moved to occupy everything in the Vale of Dreams.”

  Erik said, “I thought Prince Erland had arrived at some sort of treaty with them?”

  “Apparently the Keshians didn’t agree.”

  Erik shrugged. He was eating his midday meal with Greylock. Owen’s command would be pulling out after they finished eating, once Erik’s men had finished occupying the position Greylock’s command had dug. Erik’s men were pleased they didn’t have to create the barricades and could rest until the enemy put in an appearance.

  “As I judge things,” said Greylock, “you must hold here for five days instead of four.”

  “I’ll try for six,” said Erik.

  Greylock nodded. “News from the north is good. Captain Subai and the Pathfinders have been able to get their men through the mountains with little trouble.”

  Erik laughed. “Wait until the enemy is up there in strength.”

  “Well, part of the plan is to keep them from getting up there in strength.” Owen sighed. “Reports are the fighting is the hardest in the north. There’s a company of Hadati alongside some of our boys, and they’ve dug in near a tiny pass southeast of Questor’s View.” Erik called up from memory the maps he had studied, and nodded. That position would have to hold; to let the enemy through in numbers up there would give them a clear route down the eastern face of the mountains, bypassing Darkmoor, straight to Sethanon. “But the enemy isn’t up there in sufficient numbers to dislodge them.”

  Erik said, “I’m too tired to think. Once we’re dug in, I’m going to sleep.”

  Owen rose, laughing. “I doubt it. You’ll check everything twice before you’ll decide you’re sufficiently dug in, so you won’t sleep until nightfall.”

  Erik shrugged. “How much time have we gained?”

  “Two days. We still need to pick up three weeks.”

  Erik said, “I don’t know if we can.”

  “If we don’t, we’ll have massive fighting in Darkmoor and along the ridge.”

  “What of the Armies of the East?”

  Owen said, “They’re behind the ridge, waiting.”

  Erik said, “I wish they were right over there.” He pointed to an area where his men were readying weapons and supplies.

  Owen put his hand on Erik’s shoulder. “I understand. It’s difficult watching your men get ground up bit by bit. But it’s necessary.”

  Erik said, “Prince Patrick made that clear to me, as did Knight-Marshal William. But no one said I had to like it.”

  “Understood,” said Owen. Turning to a sergeant of his command, he said, “Sergeant Curtis!”

  “Yes, General?”

  “Get the men ready to march.”

  “Sir!” The sergeant turned and hurried away, shouting orders.

  “ ‘General,’ ” said Erik with a grin. “Suppose Manfred regrets discharging his Swordmaster?”

  Owen said, “Ask him when you get to Darkmoor.” Owen mounted his horse. “Besides, he really didn’t have anything to say about it. It was Mathilda who gave me the boot.”

  At mention of his father’s widow, Erik said, “I suppose I’m going to have to deal with her soon.”

  “Only if you stay alive, my friend,” said Owen, then he turned his horse and walked him away. Over his shoulder he said, “So stay alive.”

  “Fare well, Owen.”

  Erik left the campfire and started inspecting his men’s positions. Owen had been right, and it was hours after sunset before Erik found time to sleep.

  Roo, Jason, and Luis stood with weapons ready as the two women hurried the children up the bank to a cave. They had moved without difficulty for two days, finding rough trails that kept moving toward their goals. They had found a woodsman’s cabin, abandoned but untouched, where they had spent one night, risking a small fire, though Roo worried the scent of smoke in the air might reveal their position.

  They had left the relative comfort of that cabin and were now no more than one day’s travel from the road Roo remembered, when they heard the sound of riders, growing louder by the minute. Roo didn’t know if the riders had picked up their trail or were just heading their way by chance, but either way they were rapidly getting closer.

  From the sound of it, it was a small group, maybe a half-dozen riders or less, but with Roo’s shoulder injury, Luis having only one good hand and a dagger, and Jason having no experience with a weapon, even two skilled mercenaries would have been dangerous. If the riders had bows, Roo knew they were lost. Their best chance for the women and children was for them to get out of sight and stay in hiding. Roo and the two other men were determined to delay anyone coming their way long enough to facilitate their escape.

  Roo glanced over his shoulder and saw Helen usher the children into the cave’s mouth, and he thought she smiled back at him. At this distance he couldn’t be sure.

  Soon four riders came into view, at the far end of the little wash Roo’s band had been hiking. Roo said, “Jason, if this turns ugly, don’t try to be a hero. Try to hamstring one of the horses and don’t get killed. Luis and I will try to take care of the fighters.”

  Seeing three men in their path, the riders slowed to a walk. Luis said, “If they stay in single file, they’ll talk. If they fan out, they’re going to fight.”

  The four riders continued in single file. When they were a dozen paces away, the leader held up his hand and studied the three men. After a moment, he said, “Who are you?”

  Roo realized they were speaking the language of Novindus, somewhat accented, so he judged they were from a different part of the continent than those Roo had visited. Roo hazarded a bluff. “My name is Amra.”

  Hearing their own tongue, the four riders seemed to relax a little. The leader pointed to Luis. “And you?”

  “Haji, from Maharta,” he answered without hesitation.

  “And you?” he said to Jason.

  Before Jason could open his mouth, Roo said, “He’s mute. His name is Jason.”

  Jason couldn’t understand a word of this strange dialect, but upon hearing his name, he nodded.

  “What company?” asked the leader as the second rider moved out of line and came to stand next to him. Both men still held weapons, ready to act if they didn’t like the answer.

  Roo thought furiously. He knew things had changed radically in the Queen’s army since Calis’s Crimson Eagles had served in it. He knew the names of some companies, but had no idea if they still existed, or where they might be stationed. But he also knew no answer would get them killed as quickly as a wrong answer.

  Softly, Roo said, “We were put into Shinga’s Black Blades after the battle of Maharta.”

  The second rider said, “Deserters?”

  Roo said, “No, we ran into some of the Kingdom’s lancers and they cut us up.”

  Luis lowered his dagger slightly, as if relaxing, and said, “We got loose and ran. Somewhere along the way we got completely lost. We’ve been wandering around these woods for a week. We found a little food, but we’re pretty hungry. We’re trying to get back to our own side.”

  Roo said, “Can you help us get back? We’re really not deserters.”

  The other two riders moved their horses and took up the flanks. The leader of the four said, “Not deserters? That’s too bad. We are.”

  Suddenly they charged, and Luis and Roo were diving out of the way. Roo hit the ground, rolled, and came up in a crouch, in time to see Jason standing rooted in terror as he was ridden down by the second rider, who unleashed a blow at the clerk. Jason ducked and lashed out with his blade, and Roo saw it wrenched from his hands as he was knocked to the ground and struck in the shoulder by a horse’s hoof. A horse’s scream indicated he had done some damage with his sword, but he lay on the ground, in blinding pain, unable to move.

  The horse he had wounded stumbled, its right foreleg bloody from the deep wound Jason’s thrust had caused, throwing his rider over his sho
ulder. Roo had rolled and come up, ready for the second charge. Luis threw his dagger and took one of the men in the neck, killing him before he hit the ground.

  The thrown rider was groaning as he lay on the ground, and Luis and Roo faced an equal number of opponents. Luis pulled a second dagger from his boot and crouched. The two men spoke softly to each other, obviously aware that Luis’s ability to throw his weapon made him a more dangerous opponent.

  They shouted as they urged their horses into a charge, and they appeared to be charging both men, but at the last instant, the one heading for Roo turned and circled around to attack Luis from behind. Luis threw his dagger at the rider heading straight for him, who dropped over the neck of his horse, presenting almost no target.

  Luis had anticipated such a move, and had thrown low, aiming at the man’s exposed thigh. The blade struck the man full in the right thigh, and he howled in pain as he sat up, trying to move away from Luis as his companion charged him.

  Luis had a third dagger, carried in his shirt, out, and was throwing the moment the man sat up. He took the blade in the throat and fell over the rear of his horse.

  Roo charged the man who rode past him, as soon as his back was turned. While he bore down on Luis, who was turning and attempting to get another dagger out of his sash, Roo held his sword above his head.

  The rider slashed down at Luis, who attempted to dodge, but the rider compensated and caught Luis on his right shoulder, the blade biting deep. Roo’s blow caught the rider from behind, slicing deep into his leg. Bone was exposed as the rider screamed in pain and attempted to turn, only to lose consciousness in the saddle as he went into shock.

  Roo quickly killed him. He rushed to Luis and saw the man was barely conscious. He was about to speak to him when he heard a scream from behind.

  Roo spun to see the rider who had been thrown standing over Jason. The young clerk was on one elbow, blood running down his face from a scalp wound, while the soldier drew back his blade for a killing blow.

  “No!” Roo shouted as he started to run. His legs were leaden, each step impossibly slow and heavy. He tried to hurry, but the soldier’s blow descended like a flash, and Jason in pain. He had turned, and the thrust that should have silenced him left him contorted in pain, screaming.