A Kingdom Besieged (30 page)

‘I agreed to the demon cult’s request, but only if I were to know the real reason behind all this insanity.’ He took another drink of water.

‘Continue,’ prodded Pug.

‘I loved many of my brethren among the demon cult, seeing them as no more or less misguided than that lovely woman who escorted us here—’ he indicated Sandreena who gave him a sour look. ‘To give over your entire life to one thing is to deny yourself so many other pleasures.’ He shrugged. ‘But people do as they do. That is when I was told a story, and it is for that story I will expect my freedom.’

‘You have been promised your safe passage anywhere we can take you.’

Suddenly Nazir smiled. ‘I think I need more than that.’

Pug came out of his chair. ‘What?’

‘It occurs to me that your Conclave of Shadows has cost me and my brotherhood dearly, Pug. It is not enough we just be deposited somewhere quiet. We need a few things to make our life bearable.’

‘Such as?’

‘Gold, enough to buy comfort and security.’

‘How much?’

‘A hundred thousand Kingdom sovereigns would be sufficient, I imagine.’

Pug sat back down. ‘I’m sure. Where would you expect us to get a sum like that? That’s taxes in the Western Realm for ten years.’

‘You have the largest group of magic-users in the world, Pug. Someone must be able to find gold with a spell or turn base metal into gold, or just create something to sell for gold.’

Pug looked as if he had tasted something bitter. ‘And if we don’t comply?’

‘You can kill me now if that is your pleasure. It is not import ant, because you and I need one another.’ Nazir smiled like a gambling man whose winning card has been dealt. ‘I’ll amend my demands, then. If we survive, then you’ll pay me.’

‘Survive?’ asked Magnus.

Nazir looked at Pug’s son. ‘My friend, what I know is simple. There is something out there which makes the Demon Kings tremble. It puts fear into the very gods themselves, and if you do not defeat its purposes, then all here is lost anyway, and dead with gold is no better than dead without gold. Dead is dead.’

‘What is this thing they fear?’ asked Pug.

‘They call it the Darkness.’

Pug sat back and the blood drained from his face. He remembered a time when he had heard that phrase, but in the Tsurani tongue, and he knew what it had meant at that time. The mad Pantathian Serpent Priests had sought to bring into this sphere of reality their lost ‘goddess’ the Dragon Lord Alma-Lodaka, she who had created them. What they actually brought in was the disembodied essence of another, by the name of DrakenKorin, the Lord of Tigers, who was defeated by Tomas at the battle beneath the city of Sethanon. But even more unexpected had been the appearance of a Dreadlord, who had battled with the great dragon who had become the Oracle of Aal.

Calmly Pug said, ‘If we survive, I’ll pay your price. You have my word.’

Magnus looked at his father with surprise, but said nothing.

Nazir said, ‘Then know this. The father of all irony is that Dahun sought to sneak into this world in the guise of the mad magician Belasco. You and his brother—’ he indicated Amirantha, ‘saw through the ruse and destroyed both of them. But Dahun did not come here as a conqueror. He came as a supplicant, to seek out the most powerful magic-users in this realm.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘He was going to ask them for help.’ He laughed. ‘He wanted to beg you for protection, Pug. For the Darkness was day by day destroying his world.’

Pug cried, ‘Amirantha! Get that book.’

The warlock didn’t need to be asked which book it was Pug wanted. He hurried to his quarters where he found Gulamendis poring over the very tome. Unceremoniously he pulled the massive volume off the table and said, ‘Come along. You’ll want to hear this.’

They both returned in haste to Pug’s quarters, and Amirantha laid the book down. It was the
Libri Demonicus Amplus Tantus
, literally the Really Big Demon Book. It was both large in size and vast in scope. As bad as some of the scholarship in it was, some parts were brilliant and accurate. The trick had been puzzling out which was which.

‘The map,’ Pug said, and Amirantha set about unfolding the huge map that was attached to the book, glued inside the front cover. Amirantha laid it out and everyone in the room looked down on it.

The map was laid out as if the demon realm were a massive disc, with a large circle in the middle. In the ancient Quegan dialect employed to write this tome were the words
Ater Irritius
.

‘There,’ pointed Nazir, his finger stabbing the centre of the map. ‘That is what they fear.’

Amirantha said, ‘We translated that to mean “void”.’

‘It may,’ said Nazir. ‘I speak no Quegan, modern or ancient, but they call it “Darkness”.’

It was Pug who said, ‘It means both. And now I understand fully . . .’

Before he could speak again, Nazir said, ‘What is this?’ his finger circled the edge of the void.

Amirantha said, ‘The Demon Kingdoms, from what we can translate. There seems to be a group in a ring about this void, called the First Kingdoms, then around that a second ring, called the Second Kingdoms. Then come the Savage Kingdoms, and around the edge what is called the Mad Lands.’

‘Well, it’s an old map,’ said Nazir. ‘Because Dahun’s kingdom is being devoured by the Darkness.’ He looked at Pug. ‘There aren’t any First Kingdoms. They are all gone.’

Pug closed his eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. To Sandreena he said, ‘If you don’t mind, escort Nazir back to his room and have someone keep an eye on him. Then please return. I’m going to need to send messages to your temple and the others.’

After Nazir was gone, Magnus said, ‘What is it, Father?’

Pug sighed. ‘All the signs were there. All the way back to the Riftwar when Tomas and I were looking for your grandfather. Right up to the struggle with the Dasati, the capture and imprisonment of their gods, the false Death God and . . . It’s the Dread. They’re destroying the demon realm and seeking a way back here.’

A silence fell over the room.

T
HE HORSE STUMBLED
.

Martin almost lost his balance and forced himself awake. ‘We’re almost there,’ he heard Bethany say. At her side rode Brendan.

Martin glanced at both of them and said, ‘Sorry.’

Bethany said, ‘You’ve been without rest for most of a week, Martin. It’s no wonder you’re falling asleep in the saddle.’

They were coming down out of the foothills on the road to Ylith. They had passed one outpost already manned by local militia who looked barely able to hold their pikes, let alone use them effectively. When challenged he had merely answered they were ‘the muster from Crydee’, and they had ridden past without pause, the sentries showing no inclination to challenge them any further.

Riding slowly by the makeshift barricades – two long lines of overturned wagons, covered with sandbags and hay bales lashed down with tarps – Martin could barely repress a shudder. The design was basic, two lines from opposite sides of the road, forming an ‘S’ in the road that a rider could walk his mount through while a galloping rider would be unable to navigate it. Some would-be military genius in this lot had decided not to block the entire road, in case someone needed to pass by. Sound logic, until one realized that the Keshians would merely pull up, start shooting arrows until the defenders fled, then quietly ride past at a slow posting trot.

The three days since encountering Brendan and the men had been sombre ones. Both brothers were mourning the loss of their father and fearful for the fate of their mother. They prayed the women had reached Elvandar and were under the protection of the Elf Queen and Lord Tomas.

As they reached the heights above the city they could see the situation. Kingdom ships were mostly absent, save for a few luggers, fishing boats and some small ferries, all nestled against the docks or anchored close in. Out to the south some sails could be seen on the horizon but Martin didn’t know if they were Kingdom, Keshian, or Quegan.

When they arrived at the North Gate they found it closed and barred. From above a sentry called down, ‘Who are you?’

‘Martin of Crydee,’ he shouted back, ‘with the Crydee Muster. Open the bloody gates!’

The gates opened a moment later and Martin signalled for his column to ride in. When he had cleared the gate he turned to the nearest guardsman, a boy barely in his teens, and asked, ‘Where’s the officer in charge?’

‘Of the gate? There isn’t one, sir.’

‘Of the city, then?’

‘Oh, that would be the captain. He’s up at the mayor’s house, having tea, or else he’s up at the Baron’s castle on the hill over there.’ He pointed in a vaguely north-westerly direction. Glancing around, the soldier lowered his voice. ‘It’s almost certain he’s at the mayor’s, sir; the mayor, he’s got a lovely daughter.’

Martin looked as if he had found himself in a bad dream. ‘Just tell me how to get there.’

Directions were given. Then Martin asked, ‘What is this captain’s name?’

‘Bolton, sir.’

‘See that the men are directed to the stables. I want the horses cared for and food for them.’

Sir?’ He looked confused.

‘I said I want my men and horses cared for. Is that too hard to understand?’

‘No, I mean it’s not, sir, but it’s just that—’

‘What?’

‘Well, I don’t know who’s supposed to care for that sort of thing, the horses and men, sir.’

Martin looked ready to explode. Brendan interrupted. ‘Where’s the quartermaster?’

‘There isn’t one, sir,’ said the boy. ‘I mean, there is, but he’s not here.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Gone, sir, with the Duke.’

‘The Duke of Yabon?’

‘Yes, sir. He, the Baron of Ylith, Baron of Zun, Earl of LaMut, with the entire army of Yabon; they were all here and then they travelled on.’

‘Where?’

‘To Krondor, sir. They’ve all gone to meet with the Prince in Krondor.’

Suddenly all Martin’s fatigue evaporated. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Tommy, sir.’

‘You’re now Corporal Tommy.’

The boy blinked in surprise.

‘There’s no enemy coming down that road for at least two or three days. I want you to get these boys off the wall and help my men find shelter for our mounts. If there’s no garrison stable in town, find what you can, then lead the rest up to the Baron’s castle. Tell whoever is up there to take care of my men. If the Baron’s gone south, the barracks are empty. I want my men fed and if there’s a healer left in this city, find him and send him along.’

The newly-minted corporal hesitated, then ran to the wall and shouted for the others to come down. The column from Crydee continued to enter through the city gates. It was clearly going to get crowded in a hurry if those entering weren’t given somewhere else to go.

Corporal Tommy ran to the first boys coming down the stairs, shouted instructions and pointed and they came over to lead away a squad of riders.

The two sergeants moved to either side of the entering column and quickly order was restored as more men of the city came to direct those entering.

Martin shook his head. How was he going to defend this? He looked at Brendan and Bethany and said, ‘Let’s go find this captain.’ He turned without seeing if he was being following and rode into the city. Shouting ‘Make way!’ he forced his exhausted mount into one last run towards the building described by the boy.

Reaching it, he encountered a closed gate in the middle of a low wall, beyond which he could see a very elegant building, the mayor’s home. Using the pommel of his sword he banged on a closed gate. When it opened, Martin pushed past an astonished-looking porter, who leapt aside. Brendan and Bethany followed. Martin tossed the reins of his mount to a lackey and told him, ‘Water him but not too much too quickly. Then if you have grain, feed him a handful, no more.’ He crossed the small courtyard and ran up a wide set of steps to the house.

As he had expected there were no guards, just servants. The porter who had answered the gate ran after him shouting, ‘Who should I say is calling, sir?’

Martin ignored the man and pushed open the main door. A maid shrieked at seeing a man in fighting togs covered in road-dirt enter unannounced. ‘Keshians!’ she screamed and ran.

This had the desired result of calling the attention of the entire household to the fact that Martin was on the premises. From a door at the end of the hall two men appeared, one in fine clothing and the other in the uniform of Zun, a wolf’s head on a blue tabard. As they approached the man in the uniform began to draw his sword but before he could get it free of the scabbard, Martin stepped forward, grabbed his wrist and forced the blade back. ‘Don’t!’ he snapped as Brendan and Bethany caught up.

‘Who are you, sir?’ demanded the man who could only be the mayor of the city.

‘I’m in command of the muster from Crydee.’

‘Well, it’s about bloody time you got here—’ began the captain, a pinched-faced blond youth about Martin’s age.

‘Don’t!’ said Martin again, fixing him with a murderous eye.

All the remaining colour drained from the face of the already pale captain.

Brendan walked over and said, ‘We were delayed by an army of Keshians.’

‘Keshians?’ said the mayor, almost spluttering with confusion. ‘This far north?’ He was a portly man given to fancy brocade shirts even in daytime and a heavy rich woollen surcoat, even though the day was hot. His grey hair was receding, so he wore it long at the back.

‘Do you have a map?’ asked Martin. ‘Of this region?’

‘In the Baron’s castle,’ said the captain.

‘I have one in my study,’ said the mayor.

‘Bring it,’ ordered Martin. ‘And some food and wine for Lady Bethany.’

Seeing the young woman and hearing a noble title, the mayor turned and called, ‘Lily!’

A few minutes later a fair, willowy girl appeared at the door from which the two men had exited. She approached and said, ‘Yes, Father?’

‘Could you see to this young lady. She has travelled some distance.’

‘From Carse,’ said Brendan. ‘She’s the Earl’s daughter.’

‘Oh!’ said the mayor, suddenly respectful. ‘Please, then, come into the study. I’ll send for some food and wine.’

‘Thank you,’ said Martin.

The study was a large office where a long table with half a dozen chairs were arrayed. ‘Our City Council of Burghers meets here,’ said the mayor. He fetched down the map and unrolled it.

To the captain Martin said, ‘Your name Bolton?’

‘Yes,’ said the captain. ‘My uncle is the commander of the Earl of LaMut’s guard. They left me in charge.’

Martin glanced at Brendan who nodded once. They both decided they didn’t like this puppy.

‘How long ago did the Duke of Yabon leave?’ asked Martin.

‘Four days ago. The infantry began marching south the day before that, while the Duke and the other nobles left by ship the following day with the cavalry. They’ll put in at Sarth – sooner if they see a Keshian blockage – then ride for Krondor to come to the Prince’s aid.’

‘Krondor is under siege?’

‘Not yet,’ said Bolton. ‘But the Prince anticipates a full attack by Kesh at any moment.’

Brendan rolled his eyes as Martin said, ‘The idiot.’

The mayor was taken aback and Captain Bolton said, ‘See here, now—’

‘You see here, now,
captain
,’ said Martin with some contempt in his voice. ‘Prince Edward is falling into the exact trap the Keshians want him to. They are not attacking Krondor.’

‘Where are they attacking?’ asked the mayor.

‘Here!’ said Martin, stabbing the map with his finger. ‘Crydee has fallen and within a week, ten days at most, three thousand or more Keshian Dog Soldiers and a thousand or so cavalry, with siege engines, will clear the border of Crydee. That will put them outside your city gate in less than a month.’ Martin drew in the air with his finger. ‘They will sweep down and besiege Ylith: it doesn’t matter if they take it, they just want it bottled up. The Duke and almost all the army of Yabon is down in Krondor, and the rest of the army of Crydee is still in Carse and Tulan. My two hundred odd men plus what you have here is all we have.’

‘We must send word to the Duke of Yabon!’ cried the mayor.

‘Where is the Duke of Crydee?’ asked Captain Bolton.

‘Dead on the road,’ answered Brendan. ‘Five days ago. Goblin raiders.’

Bolton said, ‘Well, we must do something.’

Martin shook his head. ‘Here’s what you’ll do. Send a runner, your fastest rider on the best horse you have, and get the infantry turned around. I doubt any ship can overtake the Duke before he reaches Sarth, but you’ll try. If any smugglers haven’t already fled town, find one, offer him as much gold as it takes to sail their fastest sloop down the coast. Those luggers and fishing boats I saw in the harbour won’t do.

‘Send messages north to Zun, LaMut, and Yabon. Every man able to bear arms is to grab whatever weapon he can and march south as quickly as possible.’

‘Is that wise?’ asked the mayor. ‘Shouldn’t we perhaps evacuate and go north, instead?’

Martin took a breath and a servant appeared with wine. He took a flagon without waiting and drank deeply. ‘No, we will defend Ylith until we are relieved. If the Keshians take this city or even surround it, Yabon and Crydee are both lost. The kingdom will never recover control of them. If the infantry can reach us in time, and we can break the siege, we will retake Crydee.’

Captain Bolton said, ‘I don’t know if this is a wise plan.’

Losing his temper at last, Martin barked, ‘Did I ask what you thought of the plan, Captain?’

‘No, I mean . . .’ Then with colour rising in his cheeks, the captain said, ‘Now, just a quick minute here. I was left in charge of the city and the rest of the duchy. Who are you to come riding in here and take charge?’

Martin glanced at Brendan who nodded once.

‘I am Martin conDoin, son to the late Duke Henry, brother to Henry, now Duke of Crydee. I am a prince of the blood royal and I am now assuming command of the defences of whatever is left of the King’s Army of the West in Yabon.’

Brendan smiled at his brother and there was a sheen in his eyes.