Krondor the Betrayal (47 page)

And Arutha knew something profoundly disturbing was going on.

They had sent scouts up the pass and discovered there was no second force waiting to support the first. The force that had been broken at Northwarden was the total of Delekhan’s army in the area. Thousands of warriors, goblins, trolls, and the magicians known as The Six were somewhere else.

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The moredhel groaned as the ropes were pulled taut. His feet had been tied to two iron rings in the floor, two ropes had been tied to his wrists, and those ropes thrown over a ceiling beam, making a makeshift rack.

Arutha spoke in even tones. ‘‘Speak, and you’ll see your children grow to adulthood, moredhel. My word on it. I’ll turn you loose as soon as you tell me what I need to know. Where is Delekhan?’’

The moredhel looked up, and instead of fear or even hatred, James saw amusement in his face. ‘‘What does it matter, Prince of the West. If I tell you, you cannot prevent my master from reaching his goal. Release me from these ropes, and I will tell you exactly where Delekhan is.’’

Arutha nodded and the ropes were released, letting the moredhel fall to the stone floor. Looking up with a glare, the moredhel spat, ‘‘Delekhan rests in Sar-Sargoth and gathers his army there.’’

A captain of the Royal Guard made as if to strike the moredhel, saying, ‘‘Lying dog,’’ but Arutha gripped his hand, preventing him.

‘‘Why would your master sit on the throne of ancients, while you and your companions spill your blood here in Northwarden?’’

‘‘Because you are here, now, Prince,’’ said the moredhel.

‘‘But I have an army at Highcastle, and another at the Inclindel gap.’’

‘‘It does not matter, Arutha. Only one small garrison have you left in the Dimwood, and within days my master shall overrun it and the prize shall be ours.’’

Arutha’s eyes narrowed. ‘‘Days . . . ?’’ He stood up. ‘‘Gods!

They’re going to use a rift!’’

James demanded, ‘‘How is that possible?’’

Arutha said to the Captain, ‘‘Take this one to the gate and turn him loose. I’ll not foreswear, but give him no weapon, food, or water. Let him plunder his dead comrades if he wishes to survive.’’

Soldiers roughly picked up the injured moredhel and half dragged him out the door. James asked, ‘‘Highness, how can they have a rift?’’

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‘‘The Tsurani know how to make them, as does Pug. And we have suspected the Pantathians knew of their making.’’

Arutha said, ‘‘Whatever the source, if Delekhan can fashion one, that moredhel chieftain is right. It is but then a short step from Sar-Sargoth to the Dimwood, and I am in the wrong place.’’

‘‘What should we do?’’ asked James. He was still tired, but had spent a restful night after having drunk a special herb tea made for him by Arutha’s healer.

Arutha said, ‘‘I shall have a company of gallopers accompany you, that magician character, and Locklear to the Dimwood. Kill the horses if you must, but ride until they drop.

I’ll have Father Barner make up restoratives so you don’t kill yourselves as well. I’m sending you first to Highcastle. Tell Baron Baldwin to strip the garrison and march on Sethanon.

Then pick up Gardan’s company and get to the Dimwood as fast as you can. I will be following as fast as I can turn this army around and get it moving.

‘‘But you and your two companions must ride to the Dimwood, even if you have to leave the soldiers behind. Find Captain Philip and tell him to start looking for that rift machine.

If it can be destroyed before Delekhan can bring in the bulk of his army, we may still stop him.’’

‘‘He could be there already,’’ said James.

‘‘Which means you can’t start any too soon,’’ said Arutha.

‘‘Get mounted and leave now. You’ve got half a day left.’’

James bowed and hurried to find Locklear and Patrus. He knew neither of them would be happy to get these orders. He knew he wasn’t.

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Nineteen

•

P UG MOTIONED THE OTHERS TO STAND BACK.

He piled the physical mana up, then took his and Owyn’s two crystal staves. ‘‘As I see it, this gate ceased working when the connection on the other side was broken, for that must have been where the power originated.’’

‘‘But where is the other side?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘Somewhere in the palace at Krondor, or nearby. They could have rendered Gamina senseless and taken her anywhere, and then to this world, but the trick Makala pulled with creating that temporary portal in my study required the original gate be very close.’’

Owyn asked, ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘When we have time, I’ll explain the theory behind it, but leave it for the moment that the device Makala gave me didn’t have the power to transport me between worlds. It simply keyed me into a rift that existed nearby.’’

Owyn seemed to understand. ‘‘Did you ever discover why Dhatsavan and the other gods of this world froze the mana like this?’’

Pug shook his head as he stood up and backed away from the machine. ‘‘I think it was a desperate ploy; if they did this at the height of the battle, perhaps the Valheru judged the world destroyed and moved on; they might have sensed all the magic going away and feared they would be trapped here.

We may never know exactly why. And I’m in no mood to return to the pillars to discover why.’’

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

‘‘How do we calibrate this thing without a power source?’’

asked Owyn.

Pug held up the Cup of Rlynn Skrr. ‘‘This is what we will channel the power with. Dhatsvan told you it was a key, and with it you could reach other worlds.’’

‘‘Of course,’’ said Owyn.

Pug pointed to his head. ‘‘Here I have the knowledge. And for that I’ll need your help.’’

Owyn blinked. ‘‘How?’’

Pug said, ‘‘I need to warn all of you: this is something that may not work, or might even lead to our destruction.’’ He addressed the last to Gorath and his daughter. ‘‘I wish I could spare you the risk, but my experience with rifts tells me we shall have but a few seconds to attempt this gate.’’

Gamina said, ‘‘Just tell us what to do, Father.’’

‘‘After I instruct Owyn, I will count aloud, and when you hear me say ‘three,’ we will attempt to activate this rift gate.

If this works, a shimmering silver light should appear between the two poles and turn an opaque grey. The instant you see it turn grey, jump between the poles. It might help if you and Gorath held hands. Owyn and I will follow a moment later.’’

He showed them where to stand. Then he said to Owyn,

‘‘This is perhaps the most difficult thing you have ever been asked to do. You have both the energy and knowledge, though the second is only recently within you.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘I don’t understand.’’

Pug nodded. ‘‘My powers are still weakened, because of my misuse of the cup. While my memory has returned, it may be some time—days perhaps—before I can recapture even part of my powers. But you have power, what you brought with you, as well as knowledge gained from me when we shared the cup.’’

‘‘But I don’t know anything about rifts,’’ Owyn objected.

‘‘Close your eyes and stop trying to think about what to do.

Just relax and let things come to you.’’

Owyn looked dubious, but he closed his eyes. Pug waited a few minutes, and said, ‘‘You’re still trying. Think of something else.’’

‘‘What?’’

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‘‘Think of something boring, perhaps a tome you read a long time ago that didn’t interest you, or one of Elgohar’s lectures at Stardock.’’

Owyn laughed, and suddenly something entered his mind.

‘‘I . . . wait, something . . .’’ He opened his eyes. ‘‘I laughed and there, for a moment, I knew something about rifts.’’

‘‘Close your eyes and think of something else,’’ said Pug.

Owyn took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He let his mind drift, and memories came flooding back. He remembered his older brothers mocking him as he studied the few books his father possessed, and he remembered a girl in the town he liked but never spoke to, though she probably would have been flattered by the attention of the Baron’s son. Then he remembered meeting Patrus and that old scoundrel’s less-than-deferential attitude to his father, and his deep wisdom buried under that rough, country-bred exterior. He could see the old man in his mind’s eye and could even hear him, talking about the spells he could teach the boy.

‘‘I tell you, boy,’’ said the memory of Patrus, ‘‘the trick to making fire erupt from your fingers is nothing. You just have to want the air around the finger to get hot, and if you get it hot enough, if you want it enough, then the fire appears.’’

Owyn remembered trying that skill for hours until suddenly it happened.

Then in Owyn’s memory, Patrus was saying, ‘‘The structure of a rift is best understood if you ignore common references to three-dimensional location. The idea of being ‘here’ and then being ‘there’ is an impediment rather than a help. If you think of a rift as a ‘gate’ between two places that can be side by side at any moment, if you will . . .’’ Patrus’s voice droned on in Owyn’s mind, but the lesson was so obvious as Owyn listened.

Suddenly Owyn’s eyes opened. ‘‘I know what to do!’’

‘‘Good,’’ said Pug. ‘‘I once had Macros guide me while I utilized my power to enter and destroy a rift, so now I’ll guide you. Gamina?’’

‘‘Yes, Father?’’

‘‘If you could link Owyn’s mind with mine, and then get ready to jump, please.’’

She took Gorath’s hand, and said, ‘‘When you’re ready.’’

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Pug nodded, and Owyn suddenly felt their minds linked by Gamina’s. Then Pug held out the Cup of Rlynn Skrr in one hand, and the crystal staff in the other. He put the staff firmly on the ground and said, ‘‘Ready?’’

Owyn put his staff into the pile of mana, and said, ‘‘Ready!’’

‘‘One, two, three!’’

Owyn took the energies given him by the staff in his hand and let them flow down the staff to the pile of mana that lay at the base of the rift machine. He willed it all to move back up the staff, through him, to Pug, to the cup he held. A blinding flash of energy erupted from the cup and filled the space between the poles.

It was like reaching out and moving aside a curtain, thought Owyn. He even knew where he wanted the rift to form. He opened his eyes and saw a shimmering silver wall turn grey before him, then he saw Gamina and Gorath jump and vanish through it. ‘‘Now!’’ shouted Pug, and Owyn, still gripping Pug’s hand, jumped after his companions.

He felt himself pass through a grey void, a moment of sensa-tionlessness, and then they were stumbling on a stone floor, trying to keep from falling over Gorath and Gamina.

The room was dark, with a faint light entering the window.

‘‘Where are we?’’ asked Gorath.

Pug laughed. ‘‘In my study, in Krondor.’’

Gamina jumped to her feet, clapping her hands in delight.

Even before she could speak, the door flew open, and Katala hurried in, wearing her nightdress. She clasped her daughter to her heart, then put her arm around her husband. ‘‘I knew you’d find her,’’ said Katala.

Pug luxuriated for a moment in the presence of his wife and child, then said, ‘‘Makala has much to answer for.’’

Katala said, ‘‘The Tsurani? He’s behind your disappearance?’’

‘‘It’s a long story, my love. Gamina will tell it to you when you’re both safely at Stardock.’’

Katala looked at her husband, and said, ‘‘Where will you be, husband?’’

Pug looked at Gorath and Owyn. ‘‘We must go to Sethanon.’’

*

*

Raymond E. Feist

James looked at Patrus, and the old magician shouted,

‘‘Worry about yourself, boy. I can take care of myself.’’

James was inclined to agree. Arutha’s healing priest had concocted a restorative. No matter how tired they were when they lay down to sleep, by sipping a tea made from the magic herbs, they were fully restored the next morning.

They had ridden like madmen, running horses into the ground, trading mounts three or four times a day, commandeering mounts along the way. They had warned Baron Highcastle and allowed themselves one night of luxury, sleeping in a bed, and they left the next day with a new retinue and remounts, while the exhausted soldiers who hadn’t had the luxury of the magic restorative would follow after with Highcastle’s garrison as it force-marched to the Dimwood.

They saw tents and banners in the distance as they crested a rise in the road and headed toward the northern boundary of the Dimwood. They slowed as Kingdom sentries flagged them down. They reined in before a sergeant of the Royal Krondorian garrison, who recognized both squires. ‘‘Where’s the Knight-Marshal?’’ asked James.

‘‘In the command tent with the Duke, sir.’’

‘‘Which Duke?’’

‘‘The Duke of Crydee, Squire,’’ said the sergeant.

James asked, ‘‘Martin’s here? Good.’’ He motioned to the others to follow and headed toward the large pavilion tent which dominated the encampment.

Reaching it, James reined in and dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to a lackey. The others were a step behind him, though Patrus looked as if the long ride was finally wearing him down.

At the entrance to the pavilion, James said, ‘‘Tell the Knight-Marshal Squires James and Locklear are here.’’

The guard disappeared inside, and a moment later motioned for them to enter. James and his companions went into the command pavilion and found Knight-Marshal Gardan studying the map on the table before him. Looking up, his dark, wrinkled face split into a grin, one that seemed to light up the tent. Yet his eyes looked troubled. ‘‘I hope your arrival means Arutha is coming right behind.’’

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James said, ‘‘He’s on his way, as is Highcastle, and should be less than a week behind.’’

‘‘A week!’’ said Gardan.

‘‘We ruined some horses getting here,’’ said Locklear.

‘‘You’re to move at once to the Sethanon garrison,’’ said James. He looked around. ‘‘I was told Martin was here.’’