Silverthorn

by Raymond E. Feist

  Arutha was again overwhelmed by the sheer size of such an undertaking. ‘But against what ends do you store all these works?’

  Dominic said, ‘In the first, for the sake of knowledge itself. But there is a second cause, which I will leave for the Abbot to explain. Come, let us join him.’

  Jimmy was the last through the door, and he cast a rearward glance at the books in the room. He left with the feeling that he was somehow gaining a glimpse of worlds and ideas heretofore unimagined, and he regretted he would never fully understand most of what lay beneath the abbey. He felt somehow lessened for this realization. For the first time, Jimmy felt his world a small one, with a much larger yet to be discovered.

  Arutha and his companions waited for the Abbot in a large chamber. Several torches threw flickering illumination upon the walls. Another door opened and the Abbot entered, followed by two men. Brother Dominic was the first through, but the other was unknown to Arutha. He was an old man, large and still erect in his bearing, who despite his robes seemed to resemble a soldier more than a monk, an impression heightened by a war hammer hanging from his belt. His grey-shot black hair had been left to grow to shoulder length but, like his beard, it was neatly trimmed. The Abbot said, ‘It is time for plain speaking.’

  Arutha said with a bitter edge, ‘That would be appreciated.’

  The unnamed monk broke into a broad grin. You’ve your father’s gift for blunt speech, Arutha.’

  Arutha studied the man again, surprised by his tone. Then recognition struck. It had been more than ten years since he had seen this man. ‘Dulanic!’

  ‘No longer, Arutha. Now I’m simply Brother Micah, Defender of the Faith…which means I crack heads for Ishap now as I used to for your cousin Erland.’ He patted the hammer at his waist.

  ‘We thought you dead.’ Duke Dulanic, former Knight-Marshal of Krondor, had vanished when Guy du Bas-Tyra had assumed the viceroyalty over Krondor during the last year of the Riftwar.

  The man called Micah seemed surprised, ‘I thought everyone knew. With Guy on the throne of Krondor and Erland near death from coughing sickness, I feared civil war. I retired from office rather than face your father in the field or betray my King, two unthinkable choices. But I made my retirement no secret.’

  Arutha said, ‘With Lord Barry dead, it was assumed you’d both fallen by Guy’s hand. No one knew what had become of you.’

  ‘Strange. Barry died of a seizure of the heart and I informed du Bas-Tyra of my intention to take holy vows. His man Radburn stood at his side when I gave my resignation.’

  Martin said, ‘That would explain it, then. With Jocko Radburn drowned off the Keshian coast and Guy banished from the Kingdom, who would have the truth to tell?’

  The Abbot spoke. ‘Brother Micah came to us a troubled man, called by some agency of Ishap to our service. We tested him and found him worthy, so that now his former life as a noble of the Kingdom is a thing of the past. But I asked him here because he is both a valued adviser and a man of military skills who may help us understand what forces move in the world these days.’

  ‘Well enough. Now, what business have we besides finding a cure to Anita’s injury?’

  ‘The understanding of that which brought her to injury, that which seeks to end your days, for a start,’ answered Micah.

  Arutha looked slightly abashed. ‘Of course; forgive my preoccupation. I would welcome anything that made sense out of the madness my life has become over the last month.’

  The Abbot said, ‘Brother Dominic has shown you something of our works here. He may have mentioned that we count many auguries and other works by prophets in our collection. Some are as reliable as a child’s moods, which is to say not at all. But a few, a very few, are true works of those whom Ishap has given the gift of future seeing. In several of these volumes, among the most ancient we possess, a reference is made to a sign in the sky.

  ‘There is, we fear, a power now loose in the world. What it may be and how it may be combated are yet unknown to us. But this is certain: it is a fell power, and at the end either it shall be destroyed or it shall destroy us. That is inescapable.’ Pointing upwards, the Abbot said, ‘The tower above us has been converted to study the stars, planets, and moons, using clever devices built for us by some of the more talented artificers in the Kingdom and Kesh. With them we can chart the movements of all the bodies in the sky. We spoke of a sign. You may now see it. Come.’

  He led them all up a long flight of stairs that took them to the top of the tower. They emerged upon the roof, amid strange devices of confounding configuration. Arutha looked about and said, it is well you understand this, father, for I do not.’

  ‘Like men,’ said the Abbot, ‘the stars and planets have both physical and spiritual properties. We know other worlds spin their orbits about other stars. We know this for fact, since’ – he pointed to Laurie – ‘one who has lived for a time on an alien world stands with us at this moment.’ When Laurie looked astonished, the Abbot said, ‘We are not so cut off from the rest of the world that something as important as your adventures on Kelewan would not be heard here, Laurie of Tyr-Sog.’ Returning to his original topic, he said, ‘But that is the physical side of the stars. They also reveal secrets to those who watch by their arrangement, their pattern, and their movement. Whatever the reason for this phenomenon, this we know: at times a clear message comes to us from the night sky, and we who are bent on gaining knowledge will not refuse to heed such a message; we will remain open to every source of knowledge, including those often held in disrepute.

  ‘The mysteries of these devices, as well as reading the stars, are only a matter of taking the time to master the subject. Any man of sufficient wit can learn. These devices,’ he said with a sweep of his hand, ‘are all quite clear in use and purpose once they’ve been demonstrated. Now, if you’ll please look through this device here.’ Arutha looked through a strange sphere, constructed from a complex latticework of metals. ‘This is used to chart the relative motion of stars and visible planets.’

  ‘You mean there’re invisible ones?’ asked Jimmy without thinking.

  ‘Correct,’ said the Abbot, overlooking the interruption. ‘Or at least there are those we can’t see, though if we were close enough they would be visible.’

  ‘Part and parcel of the arts of divination is the science of knowing when the auguries are in fruition, at best a chancy business. There is a famous prophecy made by the mad monk Ferdinand de la Rodez. By common account, it has come to pass on three different occasions. No one can agree which event was the one he predicted.’

  Arutha studied the sky through the device, only half listening to the Abbot. Through the eyehole he saw a sky ablaze with stars, overlaid with a faint network of lines and notations, which he assumed were somehow inscribed on the inside of the sphere. In the centre was a configuration of five stars, reddish in colour, one in the centre, with lines connecting them in a bright red X. ‘What am I seeing?’ he asked. He relinquished his place to Martin, and the former hunter looked through the device.

  The Abbot said, ‘Those five stars are called the Bloodstones.’

  Martin said, ‘I know them, but I’ve never seen that pattern before.’

  ‘Nor shall you again for another eleven thousand years – though that is a guess, and we shall have to wait until it occurs again to be sure.’ He seemed unperturbed by the duration, in fact he seemed quite willing to wait. ‘What you see is a pattern called the Fiery Cross or Cross of Fire. There is an ancient prophecy concerning it.’

  ‘What is this prophecy, and what has it to do with me?’ said Arutha.

  ‘The prophecy comes from near the time of the Chaos Wars. It says, “When the Cross of Fire lights the night and the Lord of the West dead is, shall then return the Power.” It’s quite well constructed poetically in the original, though it loses in translation. What we take it to mean is that some agency seeks your death to cause this prophecy’s fulfilment, or at least seeks to convince others
the prophecy’s near fruition. Another germane fact is that the prophecy is one of the few things we have that were created by the Pantathian serpent people. We know little about these creatures. We know that on those rare occasions when they appear they herald troubles, for they are clearly agents of evil working towards ends only they understand. We also know that the prophecy says the Lord of the West is also called Bane of Darkness.’

  ‘So someone wants Arutha dead because he is fated to defeat them if he lives?’ asked Martin.

  ‘Or so they believe,’ answered the Abbot.

  ‘But who or what?’ said Arutha. ‘That someone wishes me dead comes as no revelation. What more can you tell me?’

  ‘Little, I’m afraid.’

  Laurie said, ‘Still, it gives some small reason behind the Nighthawks’ attacks upon you.’

  ‘Religious fanatics,’ said Jimmy, shaking his head, then he looked at the Abbot. ‘Sorry, father.’

  The Abbot ignored the remark. ‘What is important to understand is that they will try again and again and again. You will not be done with them until you root out the ultimate author of the order to kill you.’

  ‘Well,’ said Martin, ‘we also know that the Brotherhood of the Dark Path is involved.’

  ‘North,’ said Brother Micah. Arutha and the others looked at him questioningly. ‘Your answers lie northward, Arutha. Look there,’ he said, his voice still containing a note of command. ‘To the north lie the High Ranges, all barriers against the denizens of the Northlands. In the west above Elvandar perch the Great Northern Mountains; in the east, the Northern Guardians, the High Fastness, and the Dreaming Mountains. And across the centre lies the greatest range of all, the Teeth of the World, thirteen hundred miles of nearly impassable crags. Who knows what lies beyond? What man, save renegade or weapons runner, has ventured there and returned to tell of the Northlands?

  ‘Our ancestors created the Border Baronies ages ago, to bottle up the passes at Highcastle, Northwarden, and Ironpass. The Duke of Yabon’s garrisons block the only other major pass to the west of the Thunderhell Steppes. And no goblin or Dark Brother treads upon the Thunder-hell and lives, for the nomads do our guarding for us. In short, we know nothing of the Northlands. But that is where the moredhel live and that is where you’ll find your answers.’

  ‘Or I’ll find nothing,’ said Arutha. ‘You may be concerned about prophecy and portents, but I care only for finding the answer to the riddle of Silverthorn. Until Anita is again safe, I shall put my efforts to nothing else.’ The Abbot appeared disturbed by this. Arutha said, ‘That there is a prophecy I have no doubt, and that some madman with arcane powers is seeking my death is also not in doubt. But that this spells some great danger to the Kingdom is a long reach. Too long for me. I’ll need more proof.’

  The Abbot was about to answer when Jimmy said, ‘What is that?’

  All eyes turned to look where he pointed. Glowing low on the horizon was a blue light, brightening as if a star were growing before their eyes. Martin said, ‘It looks like a falling star.’

  Then they could see it was no star. A faint sound in the distance accompanied the approaching object. Brighter it grew, as the sound grew louder, more angry. Racing across the sky towards them was a blue fire. Suddenly it was speeding directly over the tower with a sizzling sound, like a hot iron passing through water.

  Then Brother Dominic shouted, ‘Off the tower, quickly!’

  • Chapter Eleven •

  Clash

  They hesitated for a moment.

  Dominic’s warning was followed by a shout from Micah, and the others hurried down the stair. Halfway to the ground floor, Dominic faltered, swaying a little on his feet. ‘Something approaches.’

  Reaching the main floor, Arutha and the others hurried to the door and looked out. In the sky above, more of the glowing objects streaked overhead with unbelievable speed. First from one quarter of the sky, then another, they sped, their strange, ominous droning filling the night. Faster and faster they shot through the air, streaks of blue, green, yellow, and red, angry flashes of brilliance ripping through the dark.

  ‘What are they?’ shouted Jimmy.

  ‘Magic sentinels of some kind,’ answered the Abbot. ‘I can sense they are searching the area they pass over.’

  Slowly the pattern changed; instead of passing directly overhead, they began to curve and fly off at a tangent to their original course. Those below could see that the objects were slowing in their flight. The curving course tightened, until the glowing objects sped through the night in great arcs overhead. Then they slowed even more, gaining definition. They were large spheres, pulsing with a bright inner light, and inside could be seen strange dark shapes, somehow disturbing in appearance. They continued to slow until they hovered and spiralled, forming a circle above the abbey courtyard. Once the circle was formed, twelve glowing spheres could be seen hanging silently and motionless over the courtyard. Then, with a deep snapping, buzzing sound painful to the ears, lines of energy shot across the gap between each pair and six lines joined the spheres. Then a line formed around the periphery so that now the spheres formed a dodecagon.

  ‘What are these things?’ Gardan wondered aloud.

  ‘The Twelve Eyes,’ the Abbot said in awe, ‘an ancient and evil spell of legend. No one living is said to have the power to form this thing. It is both a vehicle for seeing and a weapon.’

  Then the spheres slowly began to move. Gaining speed, they began weaving an intricate pattern, the lines twisting maddeningly, beyond the ability of the eye to follow. Faster they spun, until they became a blurring solid of light. A shaft of energy shot down from the centre, striking some invisible barrier above the roofs of the buildings.

  Dominic screamed in pain and had to be caught by Martin. The monk’s hands pressed hard against his temples and he said, ‘So powerful. I can scarcely believe …’ He opened eyes running with tears and said, ‘The barriers are holding.’

  Father John said, ‘Brother Dominic’s mind is the keystone to the mystic defences of the abbey. He is being sorely tested.’

  Again angry energies shot downwards, to be scattered across the invisible barrier, like a multicoloured shower above their heads. Shards of mystic rainbow light streaked down the sides of the magic barrier, defining the dome above the abbey for the eye to see. But again the barrier held. Then another, and another, and soon Arutha and the others could see that the barrier was being pushed lower each time. With each assault, Dominic would cry out in pain. Then, with explosive fury, a single shaft of blinding white light struck the barrier and broke through, searing the ground with an angry hiss and acrid odour.

  With the attack, Brother Dominic stiffened in Martin’s arms and groaned, it is entering,’ he whispered before he passed into unconsciousness.

  As Martin lowered the monk to the floor, Father John said, ‘I must go to my vestry. Brother Micah, you must hold it.’

  Micah told them, ‘Whatever is out there has breached a mystic defence second only to that at our father temple. Now I must face it. I am armed and shielded by Ishap,’ the old monk said in ritual, as he unlimbered the war hammer at his belt.

  A roar of impossible volume, like a thousand lions voicing rage at once, shook the abbey. It began as a teeth-jarring shriek and ran down the scale until it seemed to grind at the very stones of the building. Bolts of energy lashed out, seemingly in random directions, and where they struck, destruction ensued. Stones seemed to crumble under the onslaught, whatever was flammable was set afire, and any water touched by the bolts exploded into clouds of steam.

  They watched as Micah left the building, striding out to stand below the spinning disk. As if anticipating, he raised his hammer above his head as another bolt of energy lashed downwards, blinding those who watched from the door. When the initial blaze of white died down, they could see Micah standing upright, hammer held overhead as the crackling energies cascaded around him, scattering in broken spectrum, so that all the colours of the rain
bow danced within the inferno. The very ground at his feet smoked and burned, but he was unharmed. Then the flow of energy halted, and in an instant Micah had pulled back his hammer and made his throw. Almost too quick for the eye to follow, the hammer left his hand and became a blur of blue-white energy as bright and blinding as its target. Higher than was possible for a man to throw, the bolt of flame sped, striking the blazing disk dead centre. It seemed to bounce off the disk, and the blue bolt returned to Micah’s hand. The thing lashed out at Micah again, but once more he was protected by the hammer’s mystic powers. Again he cast his hammer as soon as the rain of light ceased, striking it at the heart. As the hammer returned, those inside the abbey could see that the thing was beginning to wobble slightly as it spun. A third time he cast his hammer and it struck. Suddenly there was a rending sound, a tearing so loud that Arutha and the others were forced to cover their ears. The circling spheres shattered, and from the centre of each plunged small alien shapes. With a wet, plopping noise they struck the ground, wiggled grotesquely, and began to smoke. A high keening shriek filled the night as they erupted into brilliant flame. No one could discern the true forms of the creatures from the spheres, but Arutha was filled with a sense it was something best left undiscovered, for in the instant they ignited, the shapes resembled nothing so much as horribly disfigured babies. Then the night was silent, as a rain of sparkling colours, like fine motes of glass star stuff, began to fall on the abbey. One by one the motes flared and winked out, until the old monk stood silently in the court, his war hammer held before him.