Silverthorn

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Silverthorn Page 32

by Raymond E. Feist


  Pug finished his sermon for the morning and returned to Dominic’s side as the monk instructed an injured girl’s mother in proper care for the child. Her broken leg would be fully mended within days. The woman’s grateful thanks were all she could give, but Dominic’s smile indicated that was sufficient. Meecham joined them, showing several of the tiny gemstones and slivers of metal that served as currency in the Empire. ‘A man could make a decent living this way.’

  Pug said, ‘You scared them into giving.’

  A commotion in the crowd made them all look as a company of horsemen rode past. They wore the green armour of a house known to Pug by reputation, the Hoxaka. They were members of the War Party. Meecham said, ‘They’ve taken to riding, for certain.’

  ‘Like the Tsurani in LaMut,’ Pug whispered back. ‘It seems once a Tsurani gets over being terrified of horses, he becomes mad for them. I know Kasumi did. Once upon a horse, it was near-impossible to get him off.’ It appeared the horse had become accepted in the Empire and cavalry firmly established in the arsenal of Tsurani weapons.

  When the horses had passed, another noise made them turn; standing before them was a heavyset man in black robes, his bald head gleaming in the noonday sun. On every side citizens were bowing and moving away, not wishing to crowd the august presence of a Great One of the Empire. Pug and his companions bowed.

  The magician said, ‘You three will come with me.’

  Pug made a show of stammering, ‘Your will, Great One.’ They hurried to follow after.

  The black-robed magician walked directly to the nearest building, a leatherworker’s establishment. The magician entered and said to the proprietor, ‘I have need of this building. You may return in an hour.’

  Without hesitation the owner said, ‘Your will, Great One,’ and called for his apprentices to join him outside. In a minute the building was empty except for Pug and his friends.

  Pug and Hochopepa embraced, then the stout magician said, ‘Milamber, you are mad to return. When I received your message, I could scarcely believe my senses. Why did you risk sending it through the pattern, and why this meeting in the heart of the city?’

  Pug said, ‘Meecham, watch the window.’ To Hochopepa he said, ‘What better place to hide than in plain sight? You receive messages by the pattern often, and who would think of questioning you about speaking to common priests?’ He turned and said, ‘These are my companions,’ and made the introductions.

  Hochopepa swept clear a bench and sat. ‘I have a thousand questions. How did you manage to return? The magicians who serve the Warlord have been trying to relocate your homeworld, for the Light of Heaven, may the gods protect him, is determined to avenge the betrayal of the peace conference. And how did you manage to destroy the first rift? And live?’ He saw Pug’s amusement at his flood of questions and ended, ‘But most important, why have you returned?’

  Pug said, ‘There is loose upon my homeworld some dark power of Tsurani origin, an evil thing of dark magic. I seek knowledge, for it is of Kelewan.’ Hochopepa looked questioningly at him. ‘Many strange things occur on my world, and it is the most elegant answer, Hocho. I hope to discover some clue to the nature of this dark power. And it is a fearful agency.’ He went into detail about what had occurred since the first, from explaining the reason for the betrayal, to the attempts on Prince Arutha, to his own interpretation of Rogen’s seeing.

  Hochopepa said, ‘This is strange, for we know of no such power upon Kelewan – at least, none I have heard about. One advantage to our organization is that two thousand years of cooperative effort by the Black Robes has rid this world of a great many such menaces. In our lore we know of demon lords and witch-kings, spirits of dark powers and things of evil, all of whom fell before the combined might of the assembly.’

  From the window Meecham said, ‘Seems you might have missed one.’

  Hochopepa appeared taken aback at being addressed by a commoner, then he chuckled. ‘Perhaps, or perhaps there is another explanation. I do not know. But,’ he said to Pug, ‘you have always been a force for social good within the Empire, and I have no doubt that all you have said is truth. I will act as your agent, seeking safe passage to the library, and I will aid in your research. But understand, the Assembly is hamstrung by internal politics. The vote to let you live is by no means a certainty. I shall have to return and lobby. It may take days before I can openly voice the question.

  ‘But I think I can succeed at this. You raise too many questions to ignore. I will convene a meeting as soon as possible and return for you once I have pleaded your case. Only a madman would fail to heed your warning, even should it prove to be something not of this world that plagues your land. At worst you gain a parole to use the library and depart; at best, perhaps a reinstatement. You will have to justify your past actions.’

  ‘I can and will, Hocho.’

  Hochopepa left the bench and stood before his old friend. ‘It may be we can yet have peace between our nations, Milamber. Should the old wound somehow be healed, we could benefit both worlds. I, for one, would love to visit this academy you build and meet this seer who predicts the future and this child who speaks with the mind.’

  ‘I have many things I would share, Hocho. The making of controllable rifts is but a tenth part of it. But all that later. Go now.’

  Pug began to guide Hochopepa to the door, but something in Meecham’s pose caught his eye. It was too stiff and awkward. Dominic had been closely following the magicians’ conversation and had not seemed to notice any change in the franklin. Pug studied Meecham a second, then shouted, ‘A spell!’

  Pug moved towards the window and touched Meecham. The tall man was unable to move. Past him Pug could see men running towards the building. Before Pug could react and incant a spell of protection, the door exploded inwards with a thunderous sound, knocking everyone inside to the floor and stunning them momentarily.

  Senses reeling, Pug tried to regain his feet, but his ears rang from the sound and his vision blurred. As he staggered upright, an object was hurled in through the door. It was a ball-like object the size of a man’s fist. Pug again tried to establish a spell of protection around the room, but the sphere emitted a blinding orange light. Pug’s eyes felt seared and he closed them, breaking the pattern of his spell. He began again, but the object made a high-pitched whine, which seemed somehow to drain away his strength. He heard someone hit the floor and couldn’t tell if Hochopepa or Dominic had tried to rise and failed or if Meecham had toppled. Pug fought against the magic of the sphere with all his considerable might, but he was off balance and confused. He staggered to the door, trying to get away from the object, for once free of its debilitating effects he could easily save his friends. But its own spell was too quick and strong. At the threshold of the shop he collapsed. He fell to his knees, blinking against the double vision the sphere or explosion had inflicted upon him. He could make out men approaching the building from across the plaza. They wore the armour of the Warlord’s Imperial Whites, his personal honour guard. Sinking downwards into darkness, Pug could see that the one who led them wore a black robe. Pug could hear the magician’s voice, as if coming from a vast distance through the ringing in his ears, saying, ‘Bind them.’

  • Chapter Sixteen •

  Moraelin

  Mist blew through the canyon.

  Arutha signalled a halt; Jimmy peered downwards through the blowing moisture. A waterfall thundered beside the trail that was their route towards Moraelin. Now they were properly in the Great Northern Mountains, in that area between the elven forests and the Northlands. Moraelin lay higher in the mountains, in a rocky, barren place just below the crest. They waited while Martin scouted the pass ahead. Since leaving their elven guides they had become a military mission in enemy-held lands. They could trust Arutha’s talisman to hide them from Murmandamus’s scrying magic, but that he knew they would soon come to Moraelin was beyond question. It was never to be a question of if they would encounter his minions, but
simply when.

  Martin returned, signalling that the way ahead was clear, then he put up his hand for a halt again. He dashed past the others, heading back down the trail. As he passed Baru and Roald, he motioned for them to follow. They jumped down from their mounts, and Laurie and Jimmy took the reins. Arutha looked back, wondering what Martin had seen, while Jimmy kept eyes ahead.

  Martin and the others returned, another figure walking easily with them. Arutha relaxed when he saw it was the elf Galain.

  The oppressive nature of their journey was such that when they spoke, it was in hushed tones, lest echoes in the hills betray them. Arutha greeted the elf. ‘We thought you not coming.’

  Galain replied, ‘The Warleader sent me after you with this intelligence but a few hours after you departed. After he was found, the gwali Apalla said two things of importance. First, a beast of some ferocious nature unclear from the gwali’s description inhabits the area near the lake. Tomas pleads caution. Second, there is another entrance to Moraelin. He felt it of sufficient import to dispatch me after.’ Galain smiled. ‘Besides, I thought it might also prove useful to see if you were being followed.’

  ‘Were we?’

  Galain nodded. ‘Two moredhel scouts cut your trail less than a mile north of our forests. They were marking your way, and one surely would have run ahead to warn when you got close to Moraelin. I would have joined you earlier, but I needed to be certain neither could escape to give warning. Now there is no such risk.’ Martin nodded, knowing the elf would have killed them both suddenly and without chance for alarm. ‘There are no signs of others.’

  Martin asked, ‘Do you return?’

  ‘Tomas gave me discretion. It is not of much use to go back at this point. I may as well travel with you. I may not pass over the Tracks of the Hopeless, but until that portal is reached, another bow may prove useful.’

  ‘Welcome,’ said Arutha

  Martin mounted and, without words, Galain ran on ahead to scout the way. They moved swiftly upwards, the falls chilling them despite the early summer warmth. At these heights hail and occasionally snow were not uncommon except in the hottest months of summer, still weeks away. The nights had been damp, though not as bitter as had been feared, for they made cold camp. The elves had given them trail rations, dried meat and hard cakes of nut flour and dried fruit – nourishing but cheerless fare.

  The trail led along the face of the cliffs, until it came out in a high meadow, overlooking the valley. A silver, sparkling lake lapped its shores gently in the late afternoon light, the only sound being the singing of birds and the rustling of the wind in the trees. Jimmy looked about. ‘How can … how can the day be so nice when we move towards nothing but trouble?’

  Roald said, ‘One thing about soldiering: if you’re going to risk dying, there’s no sense doing it wet, cold, and hungry unless absolutely necessary. Enjoy the sunshine, lad. It’s a gift.’

  They watered their horses. After a welcome rest, they continued onwards. The path Calin had spoken about, north of the lake, was easily found but steep and difficult to negotiate.

  As sunset approached, Galain returned with news of a promising cave in which they might safely build a small fire. ‘It is curved, twice, and the air moves upwards through fissures that will carry smoke away. Martin, if we leave now, we might have time to hunt game near the lake’s edge.’

  Arutha said, ‘Don’t be overly long in the hunt. Signal your approach with that raven’s honk you do so well, or you’ll be greeted by some sword points.’

  Martin nodded once, giving the reins of his horse to Jimmy. He said, ‘Two hours after sunset at the latest,’ and he and Galain were heading back down the trail towards the lake.

  Roald and Baru took point, and after a five-minute ride found the cave Galain had mentioned. It was flat, wide, and free of other occupants. Jimmy explored back and found it narrow after a hundred feet, so that unexpected visitors would have to come through the mouth. Laurie and Baru gathered wood and the first fire in days was built, though it was a small one. Jimmy and Arutha settled in with the others, waiting for Martin and Galain.

  Martin and Galain lay in wait. They had constructed a natural-looking blind, using brush gathered from other parts of the woods. They were certain they could observe any animal coming down to the lake’s edge without being seen. They had lain downwind from the lake, neither speaking, for half an hour when the sound of hooves upon the rocks sounded from below the cliff.

  Both nocked arrows, but otherwise remained silent. Into the meadow from the trail below rode a dozen horsemen, dressed in black. Each wore the strange dragon helm seen at Sarth, and their heads moved constantly, as if they looked for something – or someone. Then behind them came Murad, his cheek still showing the additional cut Arutha had given him on the road to Sarth.

  The Black Slayers reined in and watered their mounts, staying in the saddle. Murad seemed relaxed but alert. For a silent ten minutes they let the horses drink.

  When they were finished watering their horses, they moved out, turning up the trail after Arutha’s band. When they were out of sight, Martin said, ‘They must have come in between Yabon and Stone Mountain to have avoided your forests. Tathar is correct in his assumption that they will move to Moraelin to wait for us.’

  Galain said, ‘Few things in life disturb me, Martin, but those Black Slayers are one.’

  ‘You’re just now coming to that conclusion?’

  ‘You humans are given to overreaction upon occasion.’ Galain looked to where the riders had gone.

  Martin said, ‘They will overtake Arutha and the others shortly. If this Murad can track, then they will find the cave.’

  Galain stood. ‘Let us hope the Hadati knows his trail craft. If not, at least we will be attacking from the rear.’

  Martin smiled a grim smile. ‘That will certainly be of comfort to those in the cave. Thirteen against five, and only one way in or out.’

  Without further comment, they shouldered their bows and began to lope up the trail behind the moredhel.

  ‘Riders come,’ said Baru. Jimmy was instantly covering the fire with dirt, carried in against the need. That way the fire would die quickly without smoke. Then Laurie touched Jimmy on the arm and motioned that he should come to the rear of the cave to help quiet the horses. Roald, Baru, and Arutha moved forward to where they could, they hoped, see out of the cave mouth without being seen.

  The evening looked murky dark after the bright fire, but soon their eyes adjusted and they could see the riders passing by the cave. The rearmost pulled up a moment before the others answered some silent command and halted. He looked about, as if sensing something nearby. Arutha fingered his talisman, hoping the moredhel was simply cautious and not feeling his presence.

  A cloud passed from before the little moon, the only one up this early, and the vista before the cave became slightly more illuminated. Baru stiffened at sight of Murad, for the hillman could now clearly see the moredhel. He had begun to draw his sword when Arutha’s hand gripped his wrist. The Prince hissed in the hillman’s ear, ‘Not yet!’

  Baru’s body trembled as he struggled against his desire to avenge his family’s death and complete his Bloodquest. He burned to attack the moredhel without regard for his own safety, but there were his companions to consider.

  Then Roald gripped the back of the Hadati’s neck and put his cheek against Baru’s, so he could speak into his ear almost without sound. ‘If the twelve in black cut you down before you reach Murad, what honour do you to your village’s memory?’

  Baru’s sword slipped noiselessly back into its sheath.

  Silently they watched as Murad surveyed the surroundings. His eyes fell on the mouth of the cave. He peered at the entrance, and for a moment Arutha could feel the scar-faced moredhel’s eyes upon him. Then they were moving again … then they were gone.

  Arutha crept forward until he hung out of the cave, watching for signs the riders were returning. Suddenly a voice behind said, ‘I
thought a cave bear might have run you all out of there.’

  Arutha spun, his heart racing and his sword coming out of its scabbard, to find Martin and Galain standing behind. He put up his weapon and said, ‘I could have run you through.’

  The others appeared and Galain said, ‘They should have investigated, but they seemed determined to be somewhere in a hurry. So we might do well to follow. I’ll keep them under watch and mark the trail.’

  Arutha said, ‘What if another band of Dark Brothers comes along? Won’t they find your trail markings?’

  ‘Only Martin will recognize my trail markings. No mountain moredhel can track like an elf.’ He shouldered his bow and began to run after the riders.

  As he vanished into the night’s gloom, Laurie said, ‘What if the Dark Brothers are forest dwellers?’

  Galain’s voice came back out of the dark: ‘I’ll have almost as much to worry about as you will.’

  After Galain was out of earshot, Martin said, ‘I wish he were only joking.’

  Galain ran back down the trail, motioning towards a stand of trees off to the left of the road. They hurried to the trees and dismounted. They led the mounts down into a draw, as deep into the woods as possible. Galain whispered, ‘A patrol comes.’ He, Martin, and Arutha hurried back to the edge of the trees where they could spy anyone on the trail.

  A few minutes passed with agonizing slowness; then a dozen riders came down the mountain road, a mixed band of moredhel and men. The moredhel were wearing cloaks and were clearly forest dwellers from the south. They rode past without pause, and when they were out of sight, Martin said, ‘Renegades now flock to Murmandamus’s banner.’ He almost spat as he said, ‘There are few I’d gladly kill, but humans who would serve the moredhel for gold are among them.’

 

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