Krondor the Betrayal (31 page)

Lost in thought, Gorath said nothing, and Owyn could only think that with luck, he might live to see the Kingdom again.

212

Twelve

•

W IND AND RAIN PELTED THE RIDERS.

Owyn wasn’t sure if this was preferable to the snows endured on the north side of the mountain, for while it was warmer, it was far wetter. His heavy fur-lined robe was sodden, weighing on him like lead. But at least, he thought, this time he wasn’t drugged and tied to his horse.

The escort provided by Obkhar’s clan had seen them safely to a pass controlled by their faction. As they reached the foothills of the mountain, they intercepted a runner carrying warnings of a falling-out near Sar-Sargoth. Delekhan’s forces were surrounded by Narab, who had been removed from Delekhan’s inner council and replaced by Delekhan’s son Moraeulf.

Speculation was that Narab had to move to capture and destroy Delekhan before The Six intervened or else he and his clan would be crushed. Gorath greeted the news with indifference, later mentioning to Owyn he would be pleased if either of them destroyed the other.

At the summit of the small pass they had taken, the escort turned back, saying this pass was heavily patrolled by Kingdom forces. As if predicted, later that same day they had been intercepted by a Kingdom patrol of Krondorian regulars. The officer in command, Lieutenant Flynn by name, had been ready to brand them both renegades, but Owyn mentioned Arutha’s name, and said they carried a message from Squire James, and more to the point, they knew Arutha was camped in the Dimwood.

Raymond E. Feist

The patrol had handed off Gorath and Owyn to another detachment, who had escorted them to a camp in the Dimwood. For several miles, the bivouacked soldiers’ fires were visible. Gorath had observed that a significant portion of the Kingdom Army must be in the woods.

Arutha sat at a command table, his Knight-Marshal Gardan at his side, looking at marks on a large map of the mountains leading to the North. Looking up as Gorath and Owyn were ushered into his presence, he said, ‘‘You look on the verge of collapse. Sit down.’’ He indicated a pair of camp chairs nearby.

Owyn didn’t need a second invitation and sat heavily, while Gorath walked to the map and studied it. ‘‘Here,’’ he said, putting his finger on the spot designated Northwarden. ‘‘This is where Delekhan plans to assault your forces.’’

Arutha was silent a long while, studying the moredhel. Finally, he said, ‘‘If you will forgive my caution, where is Squire James?’’

Owyn said, ‘‘Sire, he left us to bring you word while he hurried to Northwarden, to carry warning to Baron Gabot. He gave us these documents.’’ He handed the documents to a soldier, who gave them to Knight-Marshal Gardan. Owyn filled them in on how they had uncovered and destroyed the nest of Nighthawks near Cavell Keep. He detailed James’s theory that Delekhan was planning on going by boat and portage from Northwarden to Romney, then straight overland to Sethanon.

Arutha again was silent as he studied the documents. ‘‘These are much like those we saw when first you came to Krondor, Gorath. Then they claimed the attacks were in places like Tannerus and Yabon. What are we to believe?’’

Gardan’s dark face was set in an expression of doubt. He said, ‘‘We hear you speak of leaving James at Cavell Keep, yet we intercept you coming south through the mountains, again.

You picked a most indirect route to reach us, moredhel.’’

‘‘We had little choice, my lord,’’ replied Owyn. He explained about the capture and attempted to outline the chaotic conditions among the various clans of the North.

When he finished, Arutha said, ‘‘You paint a picture of confusion and rival factions battling for control, yet our patrols 214

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

and advanced units see only a unified opposition, working in a coordinated fashion.’’

‘‘You see only those forces loyal to Delekhan south of the Teeth of the World, Prince Arutha,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘Clans who either oppose or resist him are either fleeing to refuges in the icebound mountains to the far north or seeking to travel near the Lake of the Sky south past the eledhel and dwarves to the Green Heart.’’

Gardan said, ‘‘We have had reports from Duke Martin of heavier than usual sightings of bands of moredhel moving past the eastern boundary of Crydee, Highness. Martin says he’s seen signs of women and children, so they’re not war parties.’’

Arutha said, ‘‘I am still dubious. I sent Locklear to Northwarden two weeks ago, to gather reports from the Border Barons to the east. He is going to Highcastle and Northwarden.

He should return in another two weeks. If James is there, Locklear will return with word.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘James said you might need to be convinced.

He said to tell you . . .’’ He glanced at Owyn.

‘‘There’s a Party at Mother’s,’’ said Owyn.

Arutha nodded. ‘‘ ‘And a good time will be had by all.’ It’s a Mockers’ password, used by James and me the first time we met.’’

‘‘Do you believe us now, Highness?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘I believe that James believes this to be true,’’ said Arutha.

He sat back, thinking. ‘‘I just hope he’s right.’’

‘‘Orders, Highness?’’ asked Gardan.

‘‘I have no choice. Either I trust James’s intelligence, or I don’t. I want a detachment left behind to secure this area, but the balance of the army is to march to Northwarden.’’

Gardan studied the map. ‘‘Would it not be wiser to alert the King and muster the Army of the East to reinforce Gabot?’’

‘‘It would if the Army of the East was mustered, already.

I’ll send a message to Lyam asking him to be ready to stand behind us, should Delekhan win past Northwarden. But we can be there faster than Lyam, so let us be expedient. Order camp broken at first light tomorrow.’’

Gardan saluted and left the tent to give orders. Arutha said,

‘‘Tell me about The Six.’’

215

Raymond E. Feist

Owyn tried to recall everything that was said about the mysterious magicians working for Delekhan. When at last he had finished, prodded by several acute questions from the Prince, Arutha said, ‘‘I have a mission for you two.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘I would rather be on the wall at Northwarden, Highness, so that I might greet Delekhan as he deserves.’’

‘‘I have no doubt,’’ said Arutha. ‘‘But personal honor and debts of blood must be put aside. If we all fail, who will revenge us? I want you to go back to Krondor, to find Pug. If he is not there, and his wife Katala is, she will be able to reach him. If she has also gone, simply use a talisman Pug gave me for the purpose. The Princess knows it and how to use it, and when Pug comes, tell him of The Six. I think magic will play an even bigger part in this coming conflict, and I am ill prepared if we are to encounter such at Northwarden.’’

‘‘Cannot the boy alone do this?’’ asked Gorath.

‘‘Pug will have means to extract things from your memory you may have forgotten,’’ said Arutha. ‘‘But I doubt he can do such without your help.’’

Gorath was silent a long while, then said, ‘‘Once this is done, I wish to return and fight.’’

Arutha nodded. ‘‘I understand.’’ Then he paused. ‘‘No, I don’t understand. That was presumptuous. I know nothing of your race and what drives you.’’ He studied Gorath’s face a moment, as if trying to read something inside the moredhel chieftain. ‘‘But I would like the opportunity to learn sometime.

I can appreciate the drive to right a wrong, personally. When you are finished with Pug, return and I will welcome your sword.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘You are also more than I expected, Prince Arutha. I also would appreciate the opportunity to learn more of your people.’’ He glanced at Owyn. ‘‘Though this boy and the other have shown me a great deal already that has made me question much of my people’s attitudes toward your race.’’

Arutha said, ‘‘That is a beginning. Perhaps one day we can have more.’’ He came around the table and extended his hand to Gorath, who took it. They shook hands, and it was more than a gesture.

‘‘Your Highness is gracious,’’ said Gorath.

216

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

‘‘Rest, and tomorrow go with the patrol I send to Malac’s Cross. It is faster than trying to go straight through the woods toward Sethanon, and around the mountains to Darkmoor. I’ll have documents drawn and you can commandeer an escort at Malac’s Cross and at Darkmoor. They should get you to Krondor safely. Once there, Pug will know what to do.’’

Owyn and Gorath departed, and a soldier escorted them to a tent. He held aside the tent flap, and said, ‘‘The lads who sleep here are on patrol until tomorrow, so they won’t mind your sleeping here if you don’t steal nothing.’’ He smiled to show he was joking, but Gorath fixed him with a stare that caused the smile to fade.

He hurried away, saying, ‘‘There’s food at the big fire near the Prince’s tent when you’re hungry.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘It will be good to eat hot food again.’’ He glanced over to one of the bedrolls to find Owyn already face-down and snoring.

James cursed all petty Barons who answered only to the King as he negotiated his way along a frozen ridge, his breath forming clouds of white before him as he exhaled. The air stung each time he inhaled, his toes were numb, and his stomach reminded him he had not eaten yet.

James had arrived within hours of Locklear at Baron Gabot’s fortress, a towering keep of stone which dominated one of the three major passes through the eastern half of the Teeth of the World. Unlike Highcastle, which had sat in the middle of the pass itself, providing a barrier that was a controlled gate, Northwarden rose up on a small peak, around which wound the pass known as Northland’s Door. A single road wound down the side of the large hill in a lazy S-curve, widening as it descended. Designed this way, the road gave the double benefit of allowing the Baron’s forces to spread out as they charged down to intercept any foe, while forcing any attackers to concentrate a smaller force in the van should they be foolish enough to attack up the road.

What kept the road below in Baron Gabot’s control was a series of siege engines mounted on two walls, the north and west. The western defenses were the heaviest, while the north-217

Raymond E. Feist

ern were designed to harry any forces attempting to come down the pass and negotiate the turn up the road to the keep.

Mangonels and catapults, as well as a trio of heavy ballistae over the main gate, ensured that any army attempting to pass would take critical casualties before they rounded the pass and got beyond the engines’ range. Some soldiers would get past, it was certain, but nothing resembling an organized force. And to deal with any who did win through, the Baron kept a small garrison of horse soldiers in a barracks near the small town of Dencamp-On-The-Teeth.

Baron Gabot had felt confident that any threat coming through Northwarden could be dealt with by his command.

That had been a welcome response to James, though he hoped fervently that Owyn and Gorath had reached Arutha in the Dimwood and help was on the way. He was beginning to worry. Had they reached Arutha and convinced him of the warning, the Prince’s army should have been arriving at Northwarden now.

Instead, there was only silence. Gabot had sent another message to the Dimwood, at James’s urging, requesting support from the Prince, and had also sent word south via fast messenger to the King, his liege lord. At least, thought James, Gabot wasn’t as stiff-necked as old Baron Brian Highcastle, who had managed to get himself killed ignoring Arutha’s advice when Murmandamus had driven south over his position. With luck, Arutha would receive Gabot’s message even if Gorath and Owyn hadn’t survived.

James found himself hoping that wasn’t the case; he had grown fond of the youth from Timons, and he was surprised to find he also had come to like something about the moredhel.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something definite about the dark elf, a lack of uncertainty about who or what he was; few men had it, and James admired it. Even more, he admired the moredhel’s ability to put aside his own personal dislike for humans to seek their aid in opposing what he saw as a great wrong against his people.

Locklear waved and pointed. As a favor for Baron Gabot, since dawn he and James had been scouting ahead to see if advance moredhel units were anywhere in the north end of 218

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

the pass. A patrol had headed out two days before, accompanied by a magician now in the Baron’s employ, and the Baron was concerned about their fate. It went unsaid that the two squires were no loss to the Baron should any harm befall them, while losing another patrol to the enemy would severely weaken Northwarden. James and Locklear couldn’t contrive a plausible reason to say no, so here on the second day of their trip they were working their way through the frozen dawn, with James silently cursing all Border Barons.

A noise ahead had alerted them to a possible enemy position. Locklear was holding his horse while James climbed above the floor of the pass to a high ridge to get a look ahead.

A single figure scampered along the trail, holding the hem of his ivory-colored robe with one hand, exposing spindly legs as he hurried. In his other hand he held a large staff, shod at either end with iron caps.

Every hundred feet or so, he would turn and pause, and when a pursuing figure would come into view, he’d unleash a bolt of energy, a blast of flame the size of a melon, a tactic that was producing little real damage, but which served to keep the pursuer from closing. James began scrambling down the hillside, while Locklear shouted, ‘‘What is it?’’

Sliding the last dozen yards, James hit the ground running, and said, ‘‘I think we’ve found Gabot’s magician.’’ He pulled a crossbow off the back of his horse and quickly cranked it up and placed a bolt in it, while Locklear drew his sword and waited.

The old man rounded a corner and hesitated when he saw the two squires. Locklear signed for him to come on, and shouted, ‘‘This way!’’

The old man hurried, and when the moredhel who was chasing him rounded the same corner, James drew a bead on him, then let fly with his crossbow. The bolt sped across the gap and took the moredhel right off his feet, propelling him backward.