Shadow of a Dark Queen

by Raymond E. Feist

  The pain shot through Erik’s head like hot iron spices. His eyes watered and he thought he would faint; then suddenly the pain drained away. The throbbing that had bothered him all night lessened, and he felt as if his face might not fall off after all.

  “Thanks,” he said, wiping away tears.

  A loud roar precluded any reply. It was as if the skies parted and a thousand dragons vented their rage. There came a hollow rush of sound like creation’s largest waterfall echoing through a gorge, and a wind sprang up from the far shore.

  “Oh, my!” said Nakor. “This is some trick!”

  Across the river a giant light of brilliant white, edged in pale green, sprang up and arched across the river, slowly spreading and fanning out as it climbed into the sky.

  Men and Saaur riders moved tentatively upon it, then kicked their balky mounts forward. The horses moved slowly, following the rising bridge of light.

  Nakor said, “Now we know why they massed near the mouth of the river across from Maharta—why no bridges. They’re using the priests’ spells to get the army across.”

  Calis said, “We leave now!”

  He rose and moved down the jetty. They reached the main dock area without incident, ignored by those on the dock, who were transfixed by the sight of the rising bridge in the sky across the river. Erik forced himself to pay attention to his leader, and pushed more than one man after Calis.

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  had no sense of where he was, but he thought he might find his way back the way they had come.

  Then they were moving left, down a major boulevard. A company of horsemen dashed past, dressed in white tunics and trousers, with red turbans and black vests. Another man similarly dressed reined in next to Calis a moment later and shouted, “Where are you going?”

  “We have our orders!” Calis shouted back. “The estuary is at risk!”

  The man seemed confused by the answer, but the incredible sight of a bridge of light rising across the river unnerved him enough that he accepted Calis’s story and rode on.

  They reached another street, which crossed the top of the one they were on, and Erik halted. Ahead was a dry dock. It loomed high into the sky, and upon it was the keel of a great ship pulled up for hull scraping. The wooden frame stretched back for what Erik judged a full four hundred feet, and the rear of the ship protruded out beyond that. He looked beyond it and saw the estuary, a mighty lake adjacent to the main harbor. The estuary was ringed by construction yards like this, forming a nearly perfect three-quarter circle around it.

  Either end was more than a quarter mile off.

  De Loungville said, “Take some men and go that way.” He pointed off to the right. “Go to the far end, and start burning everything in sight as you come back. Try to get back to the harbor. But remember, it’s every man for himself!” At the last, he reached out and put his hand on Erik’s arm and squeezed briefly, then he was off running to the left.

  Erik said, “You three,” indicating Roo, Sho Pi, and Nakor, the men nearest him, “come with me.”

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  As he ran, his head thundered, and he tried to ignore the pain. His knees were wobbly, but his heart pounded and his nerves were taut, and after a few moments he felt his head clear a bit.

  Riders came speeding past, heading back the way Erik’s men had come. He barely got out of the way of one man, who seemed willing to ride him down rather than control his horse. The expression on the guard’s face told Erik this was no movement of soldiers under order, but men put to flight by terror.

  Glancing skyward, Erik couldn’t blame the men.

  The bridge now reached a quarter of the way across the river, and upon it stood thousands of Saaur, their battle cries carrying across the distance like a thunder peal without end.

  Erik rounded a bend and saw two shipyards beyond where he stood. To Sho Pi, the nearest man, he said, “Get down there and fire everything. Nakor, help him.”

  Erik grabbed Roo and moved to the hut before another gigantic cradle of wood. This one was empty.

  The door to the building was barred. He quickly made his way around it and found a single window.

  Looking in, he saw no signs of habitation. Using his shield, Erik smashed the window, and said, “Now put your size to good use.” He boosted his small friend through the window.

  Roo hurried and opened the door and Erik said,

  “Anything to burn?”

  “Some parchment and a torch. Got any flint?”

  Erik reached into his belt pouch and pulled out some flint. Roo took it and his dagger and struck a spark on the torch, then nursed a small fire into life.

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  When it was burning, he pushed it down into the pile of parchment, until it caught; then they hurried out of the hut. Erik led Roo down to the base of the cradle, and saw a pile of old wood scraps. He gathered them by the base and had Roo set them alight.

  They burned slowly, with dark smoke, but at last a good-sized fire was started.

  Erik glanced around and saw a little smoke from the far end of the estuary, but no sign of any major fires. He motioned to Roo to come along and they made their way to the next establishment, and found it guarded by a shipbuilder and his family. Three men of middle years, as well as four sons in their teens, stood ready to fight. They were armed with hammers and pry bars.

  “Stand aside,” said Erik.

  “What do you mean to do?” demanded the oldest man there.

  “I hate saying this to any master of craft, but I’m putting the torch to your shop. That cradle and your tools go as well.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Over my cold body.”

  Erik said, “Look, I do not want to fight you, but no one is going to build ships for the Emerald Queen. Do you understand?”

  “Man, it’s all I have!” said the builder.

  Erik pointed with his sword to the distant bridge of white and green moving slowly toward them and said, “They will take all you have. They will rape your women and kill you, or make you slaves and force you to build ships for them, and they will sail them to my home and kill me and mine.”

  “What would you have us do?” the builder demanded, as much a plea as a challenge.

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  “Take a boat and sail away, friend,” said Erik.

  “Get your sons and daughters and get away while you still have time. Go to the City of the Serpent River and hold there as long as you can, but if you don’t leave now, I will kill you if I must.”

  Biggo and two other men came running up behind Erik, and the sight of five armed men proved too much for the shipbuilder. He nodded and said,

  “We need an hour.”

  Erik shook his head. “I can give you five minutes, then I start burning.” He saw a small sailing boat anchored in the estuary. “Is that yours?”

  “No, it’s my neighbor’s.”

  “Then steal it, and go.”

  Erik motioned for the men to spread out, and as Biggo passed, one of the sons shouted, “No, Father!

  I’ll not let them burn our home!”

  Before Biggo could turn, the young man struck him from behind with a pry bar, bringing it straight across the large man’s neck. Erik cried, “No!” but was too late. The loud crack told him Biggo’s neck had been broken.

  Roo charged the young man, bashing him in the face with his shield, knocking him backwards into his brothers and uncles. The young man lost the pry bar, which clattered away across the stones, and Erik looked down at the motionless
form of Biggo.

  The shipwright and his family stood motionless as Roo stood over the boy, his sword poised to end his life. Erik stepped over and grabbed his friend, pulling him away.

  “Why?” he demanded, as he leaned over the now terrorized youth. Grabbing him by the tunic, he lifted him by main force with one arm, until he was nose to nose with him.

  “Tell me why!” he screamed into his face.

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  The boy’s face contorted with terror. Then Erik heard a woman’s voice say, “Don’t hurt him.”

  Erik turned and saw a woman, who stood with tears streaming down her face. “He’s my only son.”

  Erik shouted, “He killed my friend! Why shouldn’t I kill him now?”

  “He’s all I have,” said the woman.

  Erik felt the anger drain away. He pushed the boy toward his mother and said, “Go.” The boy took a half step, then Erik screamed, “Now!”

  Turning to Roo, he said, “Burn it all!”

  Roo carried a torch and hurried into the home of the family, who stood watching helplessly. Erik said,

  “Get to that boat and sail away. Otherwise you will all die.”

  The father nodded and led his band away, and Erik knelt by Biggo. Rolling the big man over, he saw his eyes wide. Suddenly he heard laughter and turned to find Nakor standing behind. “He looks surprised.”

  Erik suddenly heard himself laugh, for it was true. No anger, or pain, but amazement was etched on the face of the big man.

  Erik stood. “I wonder if the Goddess of Death is everything Biggo expected her to be.” Then he turned and saw Roo emerging from the building, smoke coming through the door after him.

  “Come on,” Erik said. “We’re almost out of time.”

  Roo looked across the distant river and saw the bridge was now arching upward toward the midpoint of the river.

  Sounds of battle, screams and the clash of arms, rang from the north, and Erik knew the wall was likely breached or would be soon as the defenders ran in terror from the magic of the Emerald Queen and her army.

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  From the far end of the estuary, clouds of smoke rose, heralding the work done by Calis and his company. Sho Pi and two other men raced to the next building and set it ablaze, while Erik and Roo went down a series of stone steps to a low assembly point, a series of wooden sheds on a rocky point. These they quickly started burning. Nakor hurried ahead.

  Reaching the quayside, they discovered the fire had spread to the other side of the street and was growing in strength. Erik ran along until he came to the next construction site and started setting fires.

  As he moved back toward the main street, Erik noticed a flood of people running along, many carrying bundles, and he knew the enemy was somewhere inside the city. Roo tugged on Erik’s sleeve and he said, “What?”

  Roo pointed and said, “It’s the Captain!”

  Through the gathering press of men and women, Erik caught sight of Calis, Nakor, and de Loungville.

  Then they were swallowed up by the crowd.

  “Head for the harbor!” Erik called out, in case any other of his band was nearby.

  He and Roo made their way as best they could, Erik using his bulk and strength to push through the throng, Roo staying close behind him. He lost sight of the others.

  Down a side street they overtook de Loungville.

  “Where’s the Captain?” shouted Erik.

  “Somewhere ahead up there.”

  Erik noticed de Loungville had picked up a cut to his arm, and had hastily wrapped it. “You all right?”

  De Loungville said, “I’ll live for the next few minutes.”

  “Where’s everyone going?” shouted Roo.

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  “Same place we are,” answered de Loungville.

  “The docks. The city’s about to fall and everyone is going to be looking for a boat. We’ve just got to get one before anyone else.”

  Roo glanced over his shoulder. “At least we got the shipyards ablaze.”

  De Loungville said, “At least we did that.”

  Then it started to rain.

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  Erik tturned.

  “The fires!”

  “What do you expect us to do?” the sergeant asked as increasing numbers of people swarmed by him.

  Suddenly Calis appeared, forcing his way back to where the two of them stood. Then Nakor and Sho Pi were at his side. “We have to go back!” shouted the little man.

  “What can we do?” demanded de Loungville.

  “We have to keep the fires burning,” said Nakor.

  As if to taunt them, the rain increased in urgency, turning from a light sprinkle to a more insistent tattoo. “If we get them hot enough, only the worst storm will put them out.”

  Calis nodded. They started moving toward the fires, and Erik looked around for Roo. In the faint hope he could be heard over the din, Erik shouted in the King’s Tongue, “Back to the estuary! Back to the fires!”

  Whatever else might be taking place in the city, there was a full-scale riot brewing near the waterfront. Soldiers sent to keep order were joining in the 591

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  general run for the ships. That the harbor mouth was now jammed by the hulks and only shallow-draft boats could manage to slip out seemed to be of no concern to the citizenry of Maharta.

  Ships’ crews tried their best to fend off citizens seeking a haven, and several captains raised sail to put some distance between the docks and their craft.

  A half-dozen horsemen rode furiously down the street, and men and women screamed as they attempted to get out of the way.

  Erik shouted, “Get the horses!” and as the lead animal shied at the press of humanity before it, Erik leaped and took a hold on the arm of the rider, catching him off guard. Erik found surprising strength as he yanked the man from his saddle, given how beat-up he felt. With one crushing blow, he knocked the man unconscious, throwing him to the ground. It was probably a death sentence, as the crowd would tram-ple the man, but Erik had no sympathy for someone who would ride down women and children to make good his own escape.

  The horse’s eyes were white with fear and its nostrils flared. It tried to back up and felt the horse behind, and without hesitation it kicked out. The flying hooves caught an innocent trader carrying his last half-dozen jars of valuable unguents, sending them flying through the air to smash on the stones as the stout man was knocked almost senseless. Erik spared a moment to grab the man and haul him to his feet with one hand while gripping hard on the horse’s reins with the other. He shouted at the merchant,

  “Stay on your feet, man. If you fall, you die.”

  The man nodded, and Erik let him go, having no more time to spend. He mounted and saw that Calis 52887_Shadow of a Dark.qxd 9/3/02 3:50 PM Page 593

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  and the others had followed his example, save for Nakor, who was being attacked by the one remaining rider. Erik kicked hard at the flank of his animal, and the frightened gelding leaped forward. Erik’s sure hands guided him through the press to where Nakor struggled to avoid being skewered by a scimitar. Erik took out his own blade and with a single roundhouse blow took the rider out of his saddle.

  Nakor sprang to the now-empty saddle and said,

  “Thank you. I grabbed the reins before I thought of how I was to get him to give up his horse.”

  Erik urged his animal past Nakor’s and took off up the street after Calis and de Loungville. The two remaining riders s
eemed content to let them keep the horses as long as they were allowed to keep their own, and did not try to interfere with their passing.

  The bulk of the horses parted the swarming mob that would have swept away men on foot. Once they were back on the street leading to the fires, the crowd thinned out. The rain was steady, and as they rounded a corner alongside the estuary, they saw the fires were beginning to abate.

  Erik kept as close to the flames as possible, as there he had the least trouble passing the throng running through the street. The horse continued to shy from the flames, but Erik’s firm scat and short reins kept the animal under control.

  At the end of the estuary, where the first fire was set, the large ship’s cradle and hull were almost completely intact, save for some scorching, and the once brisk fire was now guttering. Erik saw an abandoned house across the street and rode there. Leaping from the saddle, he swatted the horse on the rump, sending it away.

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  Running inside the house, Erik found furnishings turned every which way. Looters, perhaps, thought Erik, or a family desperate to clear out their few valuables before the fire reached them. He grabbed a chair and ran across the broad street, to the top of the jetty that overlooked the fire and tossed the wooden chair into the flames below. He made several quick trips across the rainy street and every loose piece of furniture made its way into the fire. As Nakor predicted, once reaching a certain heat, the fire grew, despite the rain, which seemed to be leveling off at a steady drizzle rather than a serious downpour.

  In the next house, Erik found more loose flam-mables and threw them into the growing fire. At last he felt certain the cradle and hull would stay alight, but as he looked down the quayside, his heart sank.

  His was the only fire burning strongly enough to withstand the rain, and there was only so much one man could do.

  He hurried to the next fire, which was almost extinguished, and found a store across the street. The large wooden doors had been forced open, one hanging from a single hinge while the other lay on the street. Erik picked up the one door and carried it to the edge of the street overlooking the shipyard below. He tossed the wooden door as far as he could and it sailed down to land on the edge of the sputtering flames. If anything, it banked the fire even more.