Shards of a Broken Crown (52 page)

“What is
it?” whispered Dash.

Nakor said,
“Something very bad. Something I didn’t think I would see
in my lifetime. And it’s something Pug must know about as soon
as possible. The temple clerics will know about it soon enough, and
they have an important part, but Pug must know about this.” He
looked Dash in the eyes. “He must know soon.”

Roo grabbed
Nakor by the arm. “I’ll take you out to Fishtown myself,
right now. I’ll put you aboard a ship and you just tell the
Captain where you want to go.”

“Thank
you.” To Sho Pi, Nakor shouted, “Take care of things. And
tell Dominic he’s in charge until I get back.”

If Sho Pi heard
Nakor, he said nothing. As they left the tent, Roo said, “I
didn’t think you went anywhere without Sho Pi going with you.”

Nakor gave a
slight shrug. “That used to be true. But I am no longer his
master.”

Roo dodged along
the street. “When did that happen?”

Using his
walking stick to point over his shoulder, Nakor said, “When she
started floating in the air a couple of hours ago.”

“I see,”
said Roo.

“And
that’s what I meant.”

“What is
what you meant?”

“When you
asked me what was I talking about.”

Roo said, “When?
I seem to be asking you what are you talking about nearly every time
we meet.”

“When I
first walked into the coffeehouse, and I said, ‘This won’t
do,’ that’s what I was talking about. That blackness.”

Roo said, “I
don’t know what it is, and I don’t think I want to know
what it is, but ‘it won’t do’ is a rather mild way
of putting things. Just looking at it scares me.”

“We’ll
fix it,” said Nakor. “As soon as I reach Pug.”

They got to the
docks and Roo only had to wait a few minutes to commandeer one of his
boats. He had them row Nakor out to one of his fastest ships.

“What do
you do if Pug’s not on the island?”

Nakor said,
“Don’t worry. Gathis will find him for me. Someone on the
island will.”

Nakor climbed a
net ladder, and Roo shouted, “Captain! Shove off as soon as you
can and take him where he wants to go!”

A disbelieving
Captain said, “Mr. Avery! We’re only half unloaded.”

“That will
have to do, Captain. Have you supplies for two more weeks at sea?”

“Aye, sir,
we do.”

“Then you
have your orders, Captain.”

“Aye,
sir,” said the Captain. He shouted, “Get ready to cast
off! Secure the cargo!”

Men started
scrambling, and Roo instructed the boat crew to turn around and take
him back to shore. As he reached the docks he saw the sails unfurling
on his ship and he bid Nakor a fair voyage. With good winds he’d
reach Sorcerer’s Island in a week or less, and knowing Nakor’s
“tricks,” he was certain Nakor would see good winds on
this voyage.

Reaching the
docks, Roo couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was
occurring in Krondor, it was now something far beyond his plans for
wealth and power. The game that was about to unfold would be beyond
the powers of even the richest man in the Western Realm, and that
frightened him. He decided to let the workers leave early tonight and
return to his estates. Karli was overseeing the rebuilding there, and
Roo had a powerful desire to spend the night with his wife and
children.

Jimmy reviewed
the reports until his eyes couldn’t focus. He stood up and
said, “I have to get some air.”

Duko looked up
and said, “I understand. You’ve been reading since dawn.”
Duko’s own command of the written King’s Tongue was
improving, so he could now read along with Jimmy or someone else
reading aloud, but the messages they were getting were too critical
for him to trust he wasn’t making a mistake.

The net effect
of this was twofold: first, Jimmy didn’t think he could see
anything more than two feet away right now and, second, he was
starting to develop an overall appreciation of the strategic
situation along the Kingdom’s southern frontier.

Kesh had a plan.
Jimmy wasn’t sure what it was, but he was almost certain that
it required a large commitment of Kingdom forces in two places, in
Land’s End and near Sha-mata to the east. At times he almost
felt as if he understood what Kesh was going to do next, but he just
couldn’t quite make it come together in his mind.

A rider came
galloping toward the headquarters building and reined in his lathered
horse. “Sir!” he said. “Messages from Shamata!”

Jimmy stepped
off the porch and took the packet. He brought it inside and Duko
said, “That wasn’t much time.”

“Messages
from Shamata.”

Duko said, “More
messages. You’d better read them.”

“The
messenger was in a hurry,” said Jimmy as he unwrapped the
package.

He read the
single paper that was in the packet and said, “Gods! One of our
patrols caught sight of a fast-moving Keshian column moving rapidly
northeast through Tahup-set Pass.”

“What’s
the significance?” asked Duko.

“Damned if
I know,” said Jimmy. He motioned for one of the orderlies in
the room to bring over a particular map and spread it out before the
Duke. “That’s a pass that runs along the western shore of
the Sea of Dreams. It’s part of the old caravan route from
Shamata to Landreth.”

“Why would
the Keshians threaten Landreth, when we have a garrison in Shamata
that can take them from behind?”

Jimmy stared
into space and for a moment he didn’t answer, then he said,
“Because they’re not going to Landreth. They just want us
to think they are.”

“Where are
they going?”

Jimmy studied
the map. “They’re too far east to support any move at
Land’s End.” His ringer traced a line, and he said, “If
they cut west here, they could come straight at us, but we’re
too well defended with all the support units for Land’s End
here.”

“Unless
they want to draw us off before they push at Land’s End?”

Jimmy rubbed his
tired eyes. “Maybe.”

Duko said,
“Isolating us from Land’s End would make sense.”

“If they
could, but they’d need more than a single cavalry column. Maybe
if they were sneaking other units through. . .” Jimmy said, “I
have a hunch, m’lord, and I don’t like it.”

“What?”

His finger
traced lines across the map. “What if the column doesn’t
go northeast to Landreth, but goes due north instead?”

“That
would bring them here,” said Duko. “You said you didn’t
think they were trying to draw us off.”

“They
aren’t. If they go straight north from here”—his
finger marked a spot on the map—”they’re fifty
miles east of our usual patrol route.”

“There’s
nothing out there,” observed the Duke.

“There’s
nothing out there to defend,” replied Jimmy. “But if they
keep moving north, they intercept a trail here that runs through the
foothills. It’s part of an old caravan route from the dwarven
mines at Dworgin that runs to here.” His finger stabbed at the
map.

“Krondor?”

“Yes,”
said Jimmy. “What if they’ve been slipping columns and
soldiers through there for weeks? We just caught a glimpse of this
one.” He reexamined the communique. “No word of banners
or markings. The soldiers could be from anywhere within the Empire.”

“They hold
us static with units we’re used to facing, then bring up units
from farther down in the Empire . . .”

“And they
take Krondor in a flash attack.”

Duko was on his
feet. He headed to the door of the headquarters and was shouting
orders just as the old soldier, Matak, got the door open.

“I want
every unit ready to move in an hour!” He turned to Jimmy. “My
orders instruct me to defend and protect the Southern Marches. So I’m
keeping the garrison intact, but if you’re correct, the Prince
will need every soldier we can spare back in Krondor.”

With efficiency
born of experience, he had the entire garrison moving within minutes.
“Jimmy, you will lead the column, and I hope you’re in
time. For if you are correct, Kesh will strike at Krondor any time
now, and if they take it. . .”

Jimmy knew
probably better than Duko what that would mean. It would leave the
Kingdom split in half. Greylock’s army would be locked in
struggle south of Ylith, Duko’s army would be forced to hold
against the aggressors at Land’s End, and the garrison at
Shamata would be forced to hold a defensive position to prevent a
strike past them at Landreth. If Kesh held Krondor, Greylock would
lose all support by land from the south, as well as any chance of
retreat. He would be caught between two hostile armies. And if the
Armies of the West were lost. . .

Jimmy said,
“I’ll have them on the road within the hour.”

Duko said,
“Good, for if Krondor falls, the West is indeed lost.”

If that
observation from one of the men attempting to overthrow the West just
a year prior struck Jimmy as ironic, he was too busy to register it.
He hurried back inside the headquarters and shouted to the nearest
orderly, “Get all my things together, and get my horse out of
the stable!” He grabbed a parchment and leaned over the writing
desk. He almost pushed the scribe out of his seat.

Jimmy couldn’t
very well order the Knight-Marshal of Krondor to do anything, nor
could Lord Duko, but he could make a suggestion. A strongly worded
suggestion.

He wrote:

Reports
indicate a strong likelihood of a major offensive against Krondor by
Kesh, striking along old Dorgin mine road. Urge you detach whatever
units can be spared and send them south by fastest means.

James, Earl
of Vencar.

He grabbed a
stick of sealing wax, heated it, and affixed his ring seal to it. He
folded the parchment and inserted it into a message pouch.

The scribe whom
he had displaced was sitting in his chair, watching the entire thing.
Jimmy turned and said, “What’s your name?”

“Herbert,
sir. Herbert of Rutherwood.”

“Come with
me.”

The scribe
glanced around the room at the other orderlies and scribes, but all
returned only astonished or blank expressions.

He hurried past
Duko, who was still watching over the unfolding spectacle of his
entire command, save the resident garrison, getting ready to
mobilize. Jimmy led the scribe down to the docks and hurried to the
far end, where a Kingdom cutter lay at anchor.

He hurried up
the gangplank, and when he reached the top shouted, “Captain!”

From the
quarterdeck, a voice replied, “Here, sir!”

“Orders!”
shouted Jimmy. “Take this man north.”

The scribe stood
on the plank behind Jimmy. Jimmy reached around and grabbed him by
the front of his tunic, hauling him forward and depositing him on the
deck. Jimmy said, “Herbert, take this pouch. Sail north, find
our army, and give this to Lord Greylock or Captain von Darkmoor. Do
you understand?”

The scribe’s
eyes were round and he couldn’t speak, but he nodded.

“Captain,
get this man to Lord Greylock. He’s somewhere south of
Quester’s View!”

“Sir!”
replied the Captain, who turned and shouted, “Make ready to get
underway!”

Jimmy left the
stunned Herbert standing on the deck and ran from the docks back
through the town of Port Vykor toward where he hoped his gear was
ready. He was impatient to leave, and impatient to reach Krondor. His
only brother was still in Krondor, and unless Greylock could get
units south faster than Jimmy could go north, all that stood between
Dash and destruction was a few palace guards, the city militia, and a
barely repaired city wall.

Erik shouted,
“Get into that breach!”

Catapults on
both sides of the line fired rocks and bundles of burning hay. Large
ballista bolts flew overhead and men lay screaming and dying.

The fighting had
been underway since dawn the previous day, and night turned the scene
hellish. The enemy had dug a series of trenches backed by a high
wall, upon which platforms held war engines. Thousands had died
building these fortifications, and the dead had been left outside the
wall, unburied. The stench could be smelled miles before the first
trench could be seen. The trenches had been filled with water, atop
which oil had been floated. The oil had been fired and was sending a
black blanket of smoke across the ground.

Earl Richard had
reviewed the defensive position and had been forced to agree that the
only approach was a direct one. Erik had supervised the construction
of a set of massive wooden bridges, set up to roll over logs cut from
the nearby woods. The first set of trenches had been difficult,
because of the bow-fire from the wall above, but once he got his men
underway, the trenches were quickly bridged. Soldiers frantically
shoveled dirt across the top of the oil, banking the fires as the
bridges were run across.

Fortunately for
the Kingdom forces, when they reached the wall, they found a wooden
stockade. It was brilliantly fashioned, and as stout as could be
imagined, but being wood it could be cut. Men had died wielding axes
at key locations, and when finally their work was done, chains with
large iron bars had been thrown through the gaps. The iron bars
snapped sideways when pulled back and the chains were tied to draft
horses.

They had pulled
down a twelve-foot-wide section of the wall, and the Kingdom forces
were now pouring through. Erik waited for the huge gates across the
highway to be opened so he could lead his cavalry through.

The gates
suddenly shuddered, then swung open, and Erik ordered the advance. He
kicked his horse, and the large chestnut gelding leaped forward and
was up to a comfortable canter immediately.

Erik’s
eyes watered from smoke and the stench of blood and death, but he
could clearly see what lay on the other side of the gates. He
frantically shouted for a halt.