Krondor the Betrayal (52 page)

Pug turned to face Owyn, and in his eyes the young magician saw anger and hate. ‘‘Makala!’’ he shouted.

Owyn stood and pointed at the suddenly unsettled Tsurani magician. ‘‘Attack!’’ he commanded.

The hounds leaped forward. Pug turned as the first of the Wind Elementals neared him and, reaching deep within, employed the spell he had used on them before on Timirianya.

As before the creature was engulfed in spinning colored beads of energy, and stood rooted, wailing a ghostly cry.

Owyn cast his spell at the other, and it, too, stood rooted.

Then they turned their attention to Makala. The Tsurani Great One had erected a protective shield against the great beasts which stalked him and prodded against it, trying to find a way around it. He retreated, and as they closed on him he was prevented from employing any magic against Pug or Owyn.

Pug moved around the Lifestone and took a moment to glance at it, seeing if it had been endangered in any perceivable way. He said a momentary prayer of thanks; apparently Makala hadn’t yet begun to physically interact with the gem.

Pug then turned to Makala, who sought to avoid the lunges of the hounds. They couldn’t reach him, but their attacks were unsettling.

Pug came to stand beside one of the huge dogs, and shouted,

‘‘Makala, you have betrayed me, my family, and your own brotherhood in this mindless adherence to a blind Tsurani credo. You did not even bother to determine what was ‘the Good of the Empire.’ Had you even begun to understand, you would know that what you propose to do places the Empire in the greatest risk it has known since the Enemy drove the Nations across the Golden Bridge. Thousands have died for your arrogance and vanity. For all of this, you are condemmed to death.’’

With a wave of his hand, he summoned a spell and, with it, he peeled back the protective enchantment Makala had raised. The older magician realized at the last instant what Pug 361

Raymond E. Feist

had done, and screamed, ‘‘No!’’ Then the hounds leaped on him and began tearing him to shreds.

He died quickly. The dogs continued tearing at his corpse, rending it to pieces they scattered around the hall.

Owyn approached as the two Wind Elementals faded from view, and said, ‘‘He deserved no less.’’

‘‘Call off the hounds,’’ said Pug.

Owyn shouted, ‘‘Stop,’’ and the hounds stopped. He turned to Pug, and said, ‘‘What do I do with them?’’

Pug shook his head. ‘‘I think you just need to tell them to go back where they came from.’’

Owyn turned and did so, and the two hounds vanished from sight.

He took off the horn and put it down. ‘‘This is a terrible power to have.’’

Pug put his hand on Owyn’s shoulder. ‘‘All power is terrible if not used wisely.’’ He glanced at the mangled corpse, and said, ‘‘That was once a man of great power and position. He abused both. Never forget that.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘I never will. I don’t think I’m cut out for a magician’s life.’’

Pug actually managed to laugh. ‘‘Cut out or not, I don’t think you can avoid it. You’re a young man of great power, Owyn.’’

‘‘Me? I’m just a youngster who learned some things from Patrus and from you.’’

‘‘More,’’ said Pug. He put his hand on Owyn’s shoulder, and said, ‘‘When we linked minds, you were given much of my knowledge. You will find that some of it will lie dormant for years, but other parts will come to you unbidden. Whatever you choose to do with your life when you return to your father’s court, you are going to be one of the more gifted practitioners of magic in the world.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘That will take some getting used to. I—’’

Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of swords clashing and shouts from the next chamber.

Magician,
came the dragon’s thoughts,
I cannot stop them. I
am still too weak.

Pug turned toward the gap between the chambers and saw 362

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

someone hurrying through it. For a moment he thought it was Gorath, but too late he recognized it was a different moredhel.

This one was carrying a staff which he leveled at Pug and Owyn. A blast of energy smashed them both across the room.

Pug hit the wall hard enough that lights danced before his eyes, and Owyn again had the wind knocked from him.

He saw the moredhel Spellweaver struck from behind by someone, and saw Locklear stumble into the chamber, then turning to barely avoid the sword blow of another moredhel, a warrior who had vainly tried to prevent Locklear from reaching the Spellweaver.

Suddenly the room filled with combatants. Locklear fought a moredhel warrior, while James attempted to keep close to another Spellweaver, who tried to fend him off with a staff like the one used to hurt Pug and Owyn.

Dazed, Owyn tried to concentrate and help, but he couldn’t focus. He went to where Pug still lay and helped him to his feet, saying, ‘‘I’m getting very tired of that. My back is killing me.’’

Pug shook his head, and said, ‘‘What?’’

Gorath was fighting Delekhan. The moredhel chieftain wore the black helm Pug had seen on Murmandamus and gaudy black armor with gems on the breastplate.

Gorath lost his footing and stumbled, and Delekhan struck him hard across the face with his free hand, knocking the Chieftain of the Ardanien backwards. Gorath went sprawling across the floor.

Delekhan saw the mangled body of Makala and actually smirked in satisfaction. Then he saw the Lifestone.

Pug realized that he could not get there before the self-styled moredhel ruler. Makala had been dangerous because of what he knew; Delekhan was dangerous because of what he didn’t know. He saw the golden sword, and his eyes widened. ‘‘Valheru!’’ he cried. ‘‘It’s a sword for a king!’’

He lunged for it, only to have Gorath leap on his back, closing his arm around Delekhan’s throat.

Delekhan’s hand grasped the hilt of the sword and suddenly a thrumming sound filled the cavern. Delekhan’s eyes widened and he began to gurgle, but not from the choking Gorath was 363

Raymond E. Feist

inflicting on him. Rather a great power was trying to manifest itself within the moredhel.

The sword began to rise, and Gorath abandoned his attempt to kill Delekhan and instead gripped the hilt and tried to push the sword back into the stone.

Pug shook his head and saw that Locklear and James still struggled with their opponents. Owyn asked, ‘‘What do we do?’’

‘‘Gorath! Stand clear,’’ shouted Pug.

‘‘I cannot,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘If I do, he will pull the sword free.’’

Both moredhel struggled, the muscles and cords on arms and shoulders bulging from effort. Delekhan’s eyes widened to impossible size, as if they were about to burst from his skull; his face was flushed, and perspiration poured off his skin.

An alien cast came over his features, and it looked as if another person was now wearing his face. ‘‘He’s transforming!’’ shouted Pug.

Owyn said, ‘‘We must stop him!’’

‘‘Do not touch him!’’ shouted Pug over the increasingly loud noise.

‘‘We must help him!’’

‘‘We cannot,’’ said Pug. ‘‘You must help me. We must destroy them both.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘I can’t.’’

Gorath shouted, ‘‘You must. Ancient powers are seeking to take my life! Save my people, Owyn. Save me.’’

Owyn nodded, and with tears welling in his eyes, he quickly moved his hands in a complex pattern above his head. Pug duplicated the movements, and as one they pointed to the two moredhel locked in a death struggle before the Lifestone.

A blast of heat erupted from the magicians’ hands, and a white-hot light struck both moredhel. For a moment they stood bathed in eye-searing brilliance, so bright that James’s opponent turned his head away, and James managed to step close and drive his dagger deep into the magician’s chest. James turned toward the light, and was forced to look away from the brilliance. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he moved and 364

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

struck the moredhel warrior Locklear was facing in the back of the head, causing him to falter, and Locklear finished him off.

A low moan came from the two figures in the light, then they faded from view. A moment later, the light flickered out.

Again the stone was untouched, and the sword remained in place.

Silence descended on the chamber, and the four men in the room fell in place, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm them.

Owyn wept, and Pug said, ‘‘I think I understand.’’

Locklear said, ‘‘What happened? I couldn’t see.’’

James looked around the chamber, and said, ‘‘Gorath?’’

Pug said, ‘‘He saved us all.’’

James nodded, his expression bitter. ‘‘I will never think of the moredhel in the same fashion.’’

Locklear sat, and said, ‘‘He was a difficult companion at times, but he was . . . a friend.’’

Pug was too numb to move. ‘‘I think I’ll sleep a week,’’

he said.

James said, ‘‘Catch your breath, m’lord Duke of Stardock, for we have work left to do.’’

Pug said, ‘‘Work?’’

With an evil grin, James said, ‘‘Have you forgotten that stone has to be shifted back where it belongs? And there’s a moredhel army still in the Dimwood? And Delekhan’s advance guards are all around us?’’

Pug said, ‘‘I’m trying.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘If they show up now, I’m dead. I can’t lift a finger.’’

Locklear said, ‘‘Well, if we’re to survive all this, I’d rather not die because I’m too tired to defend myself. Can either of you magicians think of something?’’

Pug said, ‘‘I can. Help me up.’’

James pulled him to his feet, and asked, ‘‘What are you going to do?’’

Pug said, ‘‘With whatever strength we have left, my friends, we are going to put on a show.’’

Locklear stopped and blinked in confusion. ‘‘My mind is going. For a moment I thought I heard you say we were going to put on a show.’’

365

Raymond E. Feist

‘‘That’s what I said,’’ Pug said. ‘‘Come with me.’’

Three fatigued, confused men exchanged glances with one another, then followed the strange short man in the black robe.

Moraeulf was furious. He had been in a running fight with Prince Calin and Longbow for two days, but had yet to close with them. In the mountains, the moredhel had the advantage, but here in the heavy woods, the eledhel and their demon human friends had the upper hand.

The only good thing in this had been the course of the fight, which had taken them to the edge of the City of Sethanon.

Moraeulf was waiting for his father’s orders, and word had reached them that somehow the rift machine had been disabled. Heads would sit on pikes over that, and Moraeulf was determined that his wouldn’t be among them.

‘‘Master, runners come.’’

He expected to see his own scouts, who had been trailing the eledhel, but instead two of his father’s honor guards approached, dirty, tired, and obviously near panic. ‘‘What is it?’’

he demanded.

‘‘Disaster! On the walls of Sethanon!’’

‘‘Tell me!’’ shouted Moraeulf.

‘‘Three days ago we found our way into the city, and our master left us near the rear gate of the castle. For most of a day he was gone. Then came a great sound from deep within the earth, and then we saw something terrible on the battlement of the castle.’’

Moraeulf grabbed one of the guards by the shirtfront, and demanded, ‘‘Tell me what you saw!’’

The other said, ‘‘On the battlement we saw your father, and with him was Murmandamus. I know it was he, for he was without shirt, and the dragon mark was on him. He was gaunt, as if he had been starved, and pale, as if kept underground, but it was he. There could be no doubt. He shouted, and we could hear his voice, carried to us by magic as we had heard him ten years ago, lord, and it was his voice.’’

‘‘Aye,’’ said the other guard. ‘‘It was Murmandamus. And between him and your father stood the human Prince, Arutha, in their thrall. Murmandamus said he would at last fulfill the 366

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

prophecy and end the life of the Lord of the West, but as he drew back his blade—’’

‘‘What?’’ shouted Moraeulf, striking the warrior, knocking him to the ground. ‘‘On your life tell me,’’ he demanded of the other one.

‘‘My lord, from behind rose a great dragon, a creature the like of which no living being has seen. It was afire with light and covered in rainbows, and on its back rode a magician in black. He cried out that Murmandamus was a false prophet and the prophecy was also false, and then the dragon unleashed a blast of fire so hot we could feel the heat of it on the ground below.

‘‘Lord, your father and Murmandamus were withered before our eyes, turned to ash and blown by the winds, while the Lord of the West, the human Prince Arutha, stood unharmed!’’

Moraeulf howled his rage and struck the man. ‘‘Damn all magicians and prophets!’’

There were a half dozen warriors of his own with the two from his father’s guard. ‘‘Pass word,’’ he ordered them. ‘‘We return to the North. This madness is over!’’

The eight moredhel hurried off to spread the order.

Moraeulf turned to find his way northward to his main camp. He was only a few yards along the trail when a shape stepped out of the gloom, and asked, ‘‘My lord?’’

‘‘What?’’ demanded Moraeulf. Too late he realized he knew the person who closed on him, and recognition came with pain, as Narab drove his dagger into the son of his enemy.

Moraeulf sank to his knees, his mouth open in disbelief, and he fell to the earth.

From beyond the path, a voice said, ‘‘We have done our part.’’

Narab turned. ‘‘I will do mine.’’

Martin Longbow and his elves appeared, and Narab said,

‘‘My family is avenged, and I will take our people home.’’

‘‘We will not trouble any of you, as long as you’re moving north,’’ said the Duke of Crydee. ‘‘Never again return south.’’

Narab said, ‘‘Liallan and her Snow Leopards and my own clan are now the power in the North. As long as we rule, we shall keep to our side of the mountain.’’ Then he pointed a 367

Raymond E. Feist

finger at Martin and the elves. ‘‘And you would do well to stay on your own side also.’’