Rage of a Demon King

by Raymond E. Feist

  They headed for the keep, and Erik looked at Kitty. “You have no idea how wonderful you look.”

  She said, “No, but I know how wonderful you look.” Erik said, “Let’s eat, then I’ll show you where I’m staying.” He put his arm around her and they slowly walked to the keep, just enjoying the nearness of each other.

  Erik entered the room and Patrick said, “Captain! Is your family settled in?” Everyone in the room laughed. Erik saw Owen, Calis, Arutha, and the other surviving nobles of the Western Realm in the conference room, and saw Pug and Miranda standing in an anteroom beyond.

  Erik blushed. “Yes, sir.” He had introduced Kitty to the Prince the night before. It had taken a messenger pounding on Erik’s door with a summons from the Prince to get Erik out of Kitty’s arms this morning. Nathan, Milo, Rosalyn, and the others had arrived, and had found their way to the keep. Roo was off bartering and making deals, so the Prince had sent for Erik to find quarters for his family.

  Patrick said, “I’ve got enough governance and military matters before me to confound two Kings and a dozen Dukes, Erik, but I wanted to take care of one issue before things dragged out much longer.”

  The door opened and Erik tensed as he saw a soldier escorting Mathilda into the chamber. The old Dowager Baroness bowed before the Prince, but when her eyes met Erik’s, they burned with hatred.

  “Milady,” said Patrick. “I wanted you here so I could put a certain matter to rest.”

  “Highness?” asked Mathilda.

  “It’s fairly common knowledge you harbor Erik von Darkmoor some ill will—”

  Mathilda interrupted, “Don’t use that name! He doesn’t deserve to be called von Darkmoor!”

  “Madam!” said Patrick, slamming his hand on the table. “You forget yourself! I forgive much because of your pain, but speak cautiously!”

  The old woman almost bit her tongue to keep from speaking, but she bowed her head slightly. Patrick’s tone was ice. “Your late husband pointedly refused to deny Erik that name! More, he has earned it! You will put aside any ill will you have against Captain von Darkmoor. He is my man and serves me. If any harm comes to him that I can trace back to your offices, madam, your rank or family connections will do nothing to spare you my wrath. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” she said in tones as cold as the Prince’s. Then she looked at Erik and with barely controlled rage she said, “Well, bastard, there is nothing to stop you now, is there? With Manfred dead and you the only one of Otto’s bastards to wear his name, your friend here can name you Baron now.”

  “Madam! How dare you!” Patrick motioned for a guard to take Mathilda away.

  “Your Highness,” said Erik. “Please forgive me, but let her stay. There’s something I need to say to her.”

  Patrick didn’t look pleased, but he said, “What?”

  Erik looked at Mathilda. “Madam, you have hated me without knowing me for my entire life. I can only blame my father’s weakness for other women as the cause, though knowing you as briefly as I have, I can now understand it.” She bristled at this. “Perhaps if you had been loving, kind, and gentle, he might still have strayed and there is no fault in you.

  “It doesn’t matter. My father is dead and so are your sons. But I will not be the next Baron of Darkmoor.” Erik looked directly at the old woman and locked gazes with her. “You have a grandson.”

  Mathilda said, “What? What nonsense is this?”

  Erik said, “No nonsense. He’s Stefan’s son.”

  Mathilda’s hand came to her mouth and moisture gathered in her eyes as she asked, “Where is he?”

  “Here, in the castle.”

  “Who is his mother? I want to see him!”

  Erik motioned for a guard and said, “Go to the inn across the bridge and find Milo, the innkeeper from Ravensburg, and his daughter, Rosalyn. Bring them and the baby here.”

  Patrick said, “Somewhere else, Captain, if you don’t mind.”

  Erik said, “Bring them to the great hall.”

  Patrick said, “Madam, please wait for them there. I’ll send Erik along in a minute.”

  After Mathilda had departed, Patrick, Prince of Krondor, said, “Captain?”

  Erik said, “Highness?”

  “Out there,” said Patrick, “just a few miles beyond the walls of this city, is the new western boundary of the Kingdom of the Isles. I’m the Prince of Krondor, and Krondor no longer exists!

  “While all of us here are aware of the terrible destruction we avoided, this war is far from over. I have a commission for you, should you be willing to accept.”

  “Sir?”

  “Retake the Western Realm. Get me back my Principality!”

  Erik looked at Calis, who shook his head. “I’m going home,” he said softly. He glanced across the room, through the door, to where Pug and Miranda stood watching from the balcony. “I made a promise.”

  Owen said, “You are the new Eagle of Krondor, Erik.”

  As Erik stood still in amazement, Patrick said, “That is, as soon as you recapture my city.” Bitterly he said, “Or what’s left of it, so we can begin rebuilding.

  “That’s the first order. We winter here, rest and refit, and then we move to Krondor in the spring. We drive out what’s left of this invading army, and rebuild. After that, we take it a day at a time.”

  Erik knew the task before him was tremendous. Owen said, “But you and your wife can have a quiet winter together before we start.”

  Erik stood silently for a moment, then said, “Highness.”

  Whatever momentary satisfaction at the acknowledgment that Erik was now in charge of Calis’s Special Command was quickly lost as the Prince continued. “Arutha,” he said, and Lord Vencar stepped forward from the corner where he had been standing. “I need a new Duke of Krondor, and you’re it. Father will ratify the choice as soon as I send word. You and those sons of yours are going to be very important to me. Oh, by the way, James and Dashel are now Barons of the Court.”

  Arutha bowed. “Highness.” It was obvious that holding the office held by his father was a source of honor to Arutha. Erik noticed the strain in Arutha’s features and realized the pain he felt because of his parents’ and uncle’s death. Then he grinned and Erik caught a fleeting glimpse of Arutha’s father as he said, “I think the boys will find their new titles amusing.”

  Patrick smiled at Arutha. “No doubt.” He turned his attention back to the list before him. “Greylock, you’re the new Knight-Marshal of Krondor, until I find someone better.”

  “Won’t be hard, Highness, so please don’t dawdle too long,” said Owen.

  Patrick leaned forward and softly said, “Well, you better hope it is, because if I do, you and I are going to have words over your yanking me about the way you did. I don’t take kindly to being manhandled, even if you were right.”

  “Understood, Highness,” said Owen gravely.

  Patrick said, “We’ve got to find out if we have any navy left, before spring. Erik, I want you to send some of your black shirts to Sarth and have them snoop around. See if any of our ships survived.”

  Calis said, “If we do find any of them, Highness, where do we tell them to go? Ylith?”

  Patrick looked at a map. “No, I’m going to want to open trade with the Far Coast and the Sunsets as quickly as possible. Tell them to make for that harbor Lord Vykor created down in Shandon Bay. It was supposed to be a temporary anchorage, but we’ll have to turn it into a permanent one.” Patrick had been told that Krondor’s harbor was now impassable and would remain so for at least a year. “In fact, that’s what we’ll name it. Port Vykor.”

  The appointment and redistribution of the newly reemerging Western Realm continued.

  Outside the chamber, Miranda and Pug watched. Calis left the conference and came over to them. He said, “Father and I leave tonight.” Calis looked at Miranda. “You said I must do you one more favor.”

  Miranda said, “Yes.” She slipped her arm from around P
ug’s waist and took Calis aside. “There’s a woman in Elvandar. Her name is Ellia.”

  “I don’t know that name,” said Calis.

  “She is from across the sea. Her husband died and she is alone in a strange place with her sons.”

  Calis’s eyes narrowed slightly and he said, “Twin boys?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve seen them, teaching the other children to play football,” said Calis. “They are beautiful children.”

  Miranda said, “I do not know the ways of your people, more than you have told me, but I sense something in her. She and you have much in common. Seek her out, that’s all I ask.”

  Calis said, “We are both within our home, yet we are outsiders.”

  Miranda touched his cheek. “Not for much longer, I think.”

  Tomas came down the stairs and said, “Son, it is time.”

  “Yes, Father,” said Calis.

  Pug came up to his boyhood friend and said, “Let it not be years before we see each other again.”

  “Agreed,” said Tomas. They embraced. “And you? Do you return to Sorcerer’s Isle?”

  “No. There are things that Miranda and I can do here to help, for a while at least.”

  “When you have time, come visit.”

  “We will.”

  Tomas and Calis left and Miranda came to stand beside Pug. After a moment of silence, she said, “Well?”

  Pug said, “What?”

  “Don’t you have something to say?”

  Pug laughed. “Such as?”

  She punched him in the chest. “Younger men! Why are you all so thick-headed?”

  Pug grabbed her and pulled her to him. “What would you have me say? You are my life, Miranda. You fill up a place I thought would never again know happiness. Stay with me. Marry me.”

  Miranda said, “One thing.”

  “What?” he asked, half playfully, half concerned.

  “I want a baby.”

  Pug’s mouth fell open as he stepped back. “A baby?” He blinked. “How? You’re two hundred years old!”

  She grimaced. “The Lifestone. I’m young again, and I’m ready to be a mother.” She grabbed the front of his robe and pulled him toward her. Kissing him, she said, “Unless you’d rather I find someone else?”

  “No!” he said. “It’s just . . .”

  “I know,” she said softly. “But I regret not having children the first time around, and now I have another chance.” Her voice dropped and she said, “Beloved, I know you are suffering over the death of your children, and you’ve spoken about the pain of outliving them, but this time it will be different, I promise you.”

  Looking in her eyes, he said, “I have no doubt.”

  “Good,” she said, leading him down the stairs to the quarters Manfred had set aside for them. “Let’s go make a baby.”

  Pug laughed.

  Roo, Nathan, and the others had accompanied Erik to the keep when Rosalyn, Milo, and Gerd had been summoned. They entered, Roo with his usual bravado, the others more timidly. None but Roo had ever been inside a great lord’s audience hall before, even one somewhat worse for the wear of recent battle.

  Mathilda moved slowly to stand before Rosalyn, who held the little boy on her hip. Gerd’s attention was drawn by a necklace the Baroness wore, and he reached for it. Rosalyn gently held his hand and Mathilda said, “No, let him play with it.”

  “He’s teething,” the young woman said softly. Randolph, her husband, put a reassuring hand on Rosalyn’s shoulder.

  Mathilda’s eyes began to brim with tears and she said, “He looks so much like his father.”

  Rosalyn blushed and said, “He’s a good baby.”

  Mathilda turned to Erik. “What do you suggest?” Her manner was again controlled and commanding.

  Erik said, “I suggest nothing. Stefan was Baron when he fathered Gerd.” He saw Rosalyn lower her eyes at the reminder of the rape, and Randolph’s hand tightened ever so slightly, in reassurance. “It’s clear to me, Gerd is Baron of Darkmoor.” Then Erik’s tone became steel. “And Patrick will name me Baronial Regent.” The woman’s eyes widened, as Erik could almost read her thoughts: it was a ploy for Erik to seize control of the Barony. But before she could speak, Erik said, “But I have duties in the West. So I must delegate someone else to conduct the business of the duchy.” He crossed to stand before his nemesis. “You govern here, milady. Let Rosalyn and her husband live here or in the city as they choose, and see the boy daily. But you make him the next Baron of Darkmoor.” Then he lowered his voice even more. “But do a better job than you did with Stefan, or I will be back.” The woman’s face was a mask. “Manfred was a good enough man. Despite your disagreements with him, he could have been a good teacher for the boy. Treat Gerd as you should have treated your sons, and you and I will have no issue. But should any harm come to him, I will be back. Is that clear?”

  Mathilda looked past Erik and saw the baby smile. She stepped toward him, saying, “Let me hold him.”

  Rosalyn handed Gerd to the old woman. Then she said, “Gerd, this is your grandmother.”

  Erik left the hall and Roo followed after. Outside, Roo said, “Is this going to work?”

  Erik said, “It better.” Then he turned to his friend and said, “For the next year or so you’re going to be around here like flies on dung, so if anything happens that I should know about, get word to me.”

  Roo grinned. “And where are you going to be?”

  Erik smiled and shook his head. “Recapturing a Kingdom, it seems.”

  The herald blew a trumpet and Patrick said, “Well, let’s go talk.”

  Word had arrived that morning that a large force of heavy cavalry was moving up from the south, slogging along the roads from the west of Dorgin, as a heavy rain had struck the day before.

  Scouts reported that the banner of Kesh flew over the force that made its way toward Darkmoor. Now they stood outside the gate, as the evening sun set, and Patrick was riding with Erik, Owen, Pug, and Arutha to see what a Keshian army was doing this far north.

  “Maybe they came to help,” suggested Nakor as he walked alongside Pug’s horse.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” said Pug.

  They reached the Keshians, and one of Darkmoor’s men, acting as herald, said, “Who comes before Krondor’s Prince?”

  The Keshian herald said, “Highness, my lords, I have the honor to present his most esteemed lord General Beshan Solan.”

  “General,” said Prince Patrick. “May we inquire as to your presence in our Kingdom? Are you perhaps lost?”

  “Highness,” said the General. “Let us be brief. It is wet, and I would like to return to my camp. We have closely watched this invasion, as you have provided us with remarkably candid intelligence regarding the enemy, their disposition, and intent.

  “We did, however, incur losses as they attempted to expand into territory occupied by our forces,” the leather-faced old soldier said. “So my master, His Most Imperial Majesty, has decided that the former boundaries between Great Kesh and your Kingdom are no longer agreeable to us.”

  Patrick looked ready to explode. “You dare ride into my own Principality and inform me the Empire is trying to annex territories beyond those agreed to?”

  “In a word: yes.”

  “Well, General, look around. It may come to your attention that the bulk of the Armies of the East are currently here in Darkmoor. Come spring, I can order them southward just as easily as westward. I am certain I can convince my father that we can wait a year to reclaim the Western Realm while we sort out some Keshian adventurers.”

  The General seemed unimpressed. “Highness, with all due respect, your Western Armies are scattered and decimated, your Eastern Armies cannot stay here long, else you’ll face difficulties on your eastern borders. You have no significant navy left of which to speak. In short, while you could most certainly create some difficulties for Great Kesh for a short while, in the long run, to what advantage?” He
took out a rolled-up parchment, and said, “Here are the terms of a treaty my Imperial Master sends to your father.”

  Patrick nodded and a soldier took the scroll from the Keshian General. Patrick nodded to Arutha, who took it, opened it, and read it. “Damn!” he said after a moment.

  “My Lord?” said Patrick.

  “They want it all. We keep everything from where we sit to the East. Kesh claims all lands between the Great Star Lake and the Teeth of the World west of the Calastius Mountains.”

  “Kesh’s historical boundaries, as you know,” said the General, “before the unfortunate war with the rebellious Confederacy to the south forced us to abandon our hereditary lands.”

  “Hereditary lands!” said Patrick. “Not in the worst fever dream of your most deluded monarch, General.”

  Arutha said, “What of Queg and the Free Cities of Natal?”

  The General said, “Kesh will deal with her recalcitrant children in time.”

  Patrick said, “If you will be so kind as to wait, my lord, I will pen a reply to your Imperial Master. And you can tell Digaai for me that the formal declaration of war from my father will arrive shortly.”

  Nakor said, “Highness?”

  “What!” snapped Patrick, obviously close to a rage.

  “I think I can help.”

  Pug said, “What do you have in mind?”

  “Watch!” He took out the Tsurani transport sphere and vanished.

  “What is that odd little man up to?” asked the Prince.

  Pug said, “I don’t know, but he usually manages to come up with unexpected results. I think we can afford to wait a little while.”

  Patrick said, “Very well.”

  A few minutes later, Nakor was back. “Look to the south,” he said.

  The entire company of officers from both sides did as Nakor bade, and to the south a vast column of ruby light pierced the sky.

  “What is that?” asked the Keshian General.

  “That is Stardock,” said Pug.

  “Stardock!” said the General. “That’s impossible! Stardock is hundreds of miles from here.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Pug, “that light is coming from Stardock.”