Krondor the Betrayal (53 page)

He turned and vanished, and Martin said to the elves, ‘‘Let us go to Sethanon and find out the mystery behind the wonder we just heard. I would like to find Pug and discover how Murmandamus came back from the grave long enough to be killed again.’’

The elf to whom he spoke nodded, his expression conveying his own curiosity. Martin started walking south. ‘‘At least when my brother gets here, he’ll find his Kingdom still intact.

I think that will please him.’’

Martin Longbow, brother to princes and kings, shouldered the weapon which had given him his name and hummed a nameless tune. He didn’t know the details yet, but he knew they had won, and that, for the time being, a future existed for his wife and daughter. That was cause enough to hum a tune; the details would come later.

368

A RUTHA RAISED HIS CUP.

‘‘Gorath!’’ he said.

The others in the command tent raised their cups, said,

‘‘Gorath!’’ and drank to his memory.

Pug had related the final hours of the struggle and how he and Owyn had fashioned the illusion to convince the moredhel that Murmandamus was at last dead. Over the meal he had explained about Gorath’s self-sacrifice, his nobility.

Arutha reflected a moment on what he had been told, then said, ‘‘I find it very strange to consider any Brother of the Dark Path noble, but there is no other word for his deed. Even when I sent him off with Owyn and James, I harbored lingering doubts. I could not rid myself of the notion it was but another convoluted plan of the Pantathians. I was wrong.’’

‘‘You are supposed to be suspicious,’’ said Martin. ‘‘It is part of your duty to your Kingdom.’’

Arutha sipped his wine and nodded at his brother’s remark.

‘‘Perhaps, but I am certainly never going to regard the Brotherhood of the Dark Path quite the same again.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘If I may, Your Highness?’’

Arutha gave the young magician permission to speak. ‘‘I traveled with Gorath for a few weeks in his homeland, and it’s so very different than I could have imagined.’’ He told of
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the human communities living side by side with the moredhel, and while the humans would be labeled renegades, it spoke that it was possible for peace to exist between the races. ‘‘They have a fierce way, it seemed to me, yet it was a way that is not so alien we can’t appreciate it. I met Delekhan’s and Gorath’s wives; Delekhan’s is a powerful leader in her own right, and she was beautiful and fierce herself, and strange. Yet there was only ambition to save her people, and she helped us.’’

Owyn sighed. ‘‘When I first met Gorath, he said we would never understand his people or their ways. Maybe he was right, but I can accept them.’’

Arutha said, ‘‘Would that all of them were like him. Life in our Kingdom would be far calmer in the North.’’ The Prince continued, ‘‘Those of us who have survived yet another attempt by dark forces to destroy us must again rededicate ourselves to protecting our nation. Else those who have died will have paid a great price in vain. Gorath will be remembered, not as a traitor to his people, but as one of our nation’s heroes as well as one of his own. He started out serving only the moredhel. He died to save us all.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘I just wish he could have lived the rest of his life in Elvandar.’’

Martin said, ‘‘That is something for anyone to desire. It is a good place to end one’s days. But Aglaranna was right; he wasn’t fully returned, and it was his hatred for Delekhan that prevented him from being one with the eledhel.’’

Arutha said to Pug, ‘‘I wish I could have seen that little drama you concocted to deceive the moredhel.’’

‘‘That was Owyn’s doing as much as mine. I have never been an adept at illusion, but he had learned some of those skills at Stardock. He fashioned the images of Murmandamus—from my description of him, and he had seen Arutha and Delekhan personally—and the Oracle had revived enough to rise up with me on her neck and spout an impressive flame.

We just hoped it would be effective enough.’’

Martin said, ‘‘Certainly it was that. I was a dozen feet away when I heard two of Delekhan’s guards tell Moraeulf of his father’s death and the end of Murmandamus. They were be-lievers. Even Narab likely believes the tale. Even if he doesn’t, 370

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it serves his purposes to let others believe. I think we are done with the moredhel seeking Sethanon again.’’ Martin put aside his wine, and said, ‘‘I must leave. I have a long journey back to Elvandar before me, and then on to Crydee. My elven friends and I will depart at first light tomorrow, so I am to bed.’’

Arutha stood and embraced his brother. ‘‘We see you too rarely,’’ he said.

‘‘Come to Crydee. You and Anita. Bring Borric, Erland, and Eliena. Spend a month.’’

‘‘Two weeks, perhaps, and not until after the baby’s here.’’

‘‘Another baby!’’ said Martin with a grin. ‘‘When were you getting around to telling me?’’

Arutha smiled, and said, ‘‘I expect there’s a message with the royal seal of Krondor waiting for you in Crydee, where you’d have already read it if you were acting the part of a proper duke and not running around in the woods like your elf friends.’’

‘‘If I hadn’t been running around, those two‘‘—he pointed to James and Locklear, who had unceremoniously fallen asleep on cushions in the corner of Arutha’s pavilion—’’would never have made it to destroy that machine, and these woods would be full of Delekhan’s warriors.’’ He lowered his voice. ‘‘And I would not have been able to find Narab and help him get to Moraeulf.’’ Turning to happier matters, he asked, ‘‘Have you picked out names?’’

Arutha nodded. ‘‘If a girl, we shall name her Alicia, after Anita’s mother. If a boy, Nicholas, after Great-grandfather.’’

Martin said, ‘‘I look forward to the news of the birth.’’

Arutha hugged his brother again, and replied, ‘‘I know. Be well and give my love to Briana.’’

Martin departed and Arutha looked at his sleeping squires.

‘‘I think this constitutes lèse majeste´. What do you think, Pug?’’

‘‘I think the magic herbs your healer gave them wore off. I think your threatening the hangman’s noose wouldn’t waken them.’’

‘‘I’m glad to hear that,’’ said Arutha. ‘‘They are forgiven.’’

Looking at Owyn, Arutha asked, ‘‘What shall we do with you?’’

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Owyn said, ‘‘Highness, I am overdue at home, and really must return to face my father. Not that I can imagine his wrath being any greater, but the longer I tarry, the worse will be my punishment for disobeying him.’’

Arutha rubbed his chin, and said, ‘‘Well, then, perhaps a good horse and some gold for a better inn or two along the way. And I think I’ll send a personal note to your father proclaiming my personal indebtedness to the son of the Baron of Timons for his great service to the Crown. I will recommend that if your father can’t find a place for you in his servce, he consider commending you to the King, so that you might serve the Crown in Rillanon. I’ll also send a note to my brother telling him of your service. If you really do wish to, I’m sure he’ll find service for a bright lad such as you.’’

Owyn smiled. Whatever anger his father had felt at Owyn’s decision to disobey and run off to Stardock would evaporate before a personal letter of commendation from the Prince of Krondor. Not to mention a commendation to the King. His homecoming had just become a great deal more attractive. ‘‘I thank the Prince.’’

Pug said, ‘‘We need to speak some more about things at Sethanon, Arutha, and about what we must do to ensure nothing like this happens again.’’ He fought back a yawn. ‘‘But right now we need our sleep, too.’’

The Prince inclined his head. ‘‘Then you are excused, my friend, and we’ll speak again in the morning. Good night.’’

They bid Arutha good night and left the Prince’s pavilion.

Pug walked with Owyn to the tent Arutha had set aside for their use. ‘‘What will you do after you return home?’’ asked Pug.

Owyn said, ‘‘I’m not sure. I know that my life will never be the same. I’ve seen too much and . . . it changes you.’’

Pug tapped Owyn’s head with his forefinger. ‘‘And you have too much up there to let it lie idle. Come back to Stardock.

Make sure we see no more mad wizards like Makala.’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘I think I would like to know more about these powers of mine, but I also think my father will have much to say about my future.’’

‘‘Such is the burden of nobility,’’ said Pug. ‘‘But, you have 372

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time to ponder those choices, and you certainly have a great deal more to think about than before.’’

‘‘No doubt,’’ said Owyn, as they entered their tent.

‘‘Truth to tell, one of the reasons I left Stardock was because of all the politics. Your two Keshian students, Korsh and Wa-toom, they’re gathering followers, and I can see some very nasty business ahead if you don’t break up those factions.’’

‘‘As do I, but I’m unsure as yet what to do about it,’’ Pug admitted.

Pug sat upon his mat, and Owyn started to close the flaps.

For a moment Owyn paused and looked out at the calm woods around the camp. In the distance he could hear the soldiers of the Kingdom around their fires, and above the trees the stars shone brightly.

He wondered if somewhere out there, Gorath was with the Mothers and the Fathers, or in the Blessed Isles.

Wherever you are,
Owyn thought as he tied the tent flap closed,
you will never be forgotten.
Then he added,
my friend.

He turned to his own mat and lay down. Despite the unanswered questions and the countless possibilities still before him, Owyn fell quickly asleep.

Pug looked at the young magician and remembered when he had been that age, wrestling with the great powers Owyn didn’t even suspect he now possessed, and wondered which choices Owyn would make.

But whatever those choices, Owyn would make them, and Pug lay down relieved to know that his home and family were again safe. He basked in the knowledge that Gamina was home, and he would soon join his family at Stardock. With that thought in his mind, Pug drifted off to sleep. And it was a good, long, restful sleep.

373

Author’s Afterword

T he phone rang.

The voice on the other end of the line belonged to my agent, Jonathan Matson. He said there was a fellow named John Cutter, who wanted to speak to me about a game deal.

I told Jonathan to give him my phone number at home and forgot about it.

A while later the phone rang again and a pleasant voice at the other end identified himself as John Cutter, a game producer for Dynamix, Inc., a company in Eugene, Oregon.

John had produced the second game in the successful
Might & Magic
series while at New World Computing, Inc., and was itching to do the same for Dynamix, a company known primarily for flight simulations, particularly the popular
Red Baron.
He had been told by one of the firm’s founders, Jeff Tunell, that I was a good fantasy author and thought maybe I could write them a game.

I explained to John that he couldn’t afford me, but then introduced him to the idea of licensing, and from that point forward, we were on the same wavelength.

That’s how
Betrayal at Krondor
started.

Fantasy role-playing games and books both use stories, but in different ways. My experience prior to working with John and his crew at Dynamix was limited to my own involvement with the creation of Midkemia, the fantasy world in which my work resides, and with playing other people’s computer role-playing games.

Neal Hallford and John Cutter wrote the game. I got to re-

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

view things, but they wrote it. I talked with them about story, gave them ideas, listened to their ideas, and the game took form. But even I had no idea what it would look like, or play like, until it was finished. I got the script, but John had simply printed everything and sent it to me, without any idea how it hung together. The first time I jumped from the opening narra-tive to the initial dialogue in the first sub-quest, I was lost.

And that wasn’t the last time.

When I finally got a look at the finished game, it was at the Drake Hotel in Chicago before my first press interview on the game at the Consumer Electronics Show in 1993. It was a revelation. It was my world, but it wasn’t. These were my characters, but they weren’t. They came alive and ran around and fought and died and started over and fought again. When it came time to give the interview, I didn’t want to stop playing.

The rest, as they say, is history.
Betrayal at Krondor
won awards, sat atop the
Entertainment Weekly
CD game best-seller list for six months, and is considered by many to be the best computer fantasy role-playing game ever created. And most of the credit goes to John, Neal, and the team at Dynamix.

When I approached turning
Betrayal
into this novel, I was faced with many decisions, revolving around story elements that make for a really good game, yet are either inconsistent with the literary Midkemia or are just too silly to believe. The

‘‘Quest for Ale’’ and ‘‘Find The Lost Minstral,’’ to name two sub-quests in the game, were clearly going to totally destroy the tension of the story.

That being the case, I decided that rather than attempt to

‘‘novelize’’ the game, I would take the core story of the game and tell it in novel form. So that’s what I did; I took Neal and John’s story for the game,
Betrayal at Krondor,
and started churning it around in my head, deciding scene by scene what would go, stay, be changed, or introduced. The book you hold in your hand is the central story of the game, without most of the sub-quests and side trips, and without a great deal of what makes a game a game. But the story of Owyn and Gorath, James and Locklear is at the heart the same one.

So for those of you who have played the game,
Betrayal at
Krondor,
this novel,
Krondor The Betrayal,
will be very familiar, 375