Krondor: The Betrayal

by Raymond E. Feist

  ‘‘Because it means we can’t wander forever,’’ said the dark elf.

  Owyn found the humor a little too grim for his taste and said nothing. They trudged on as they climbed a ridge. When they crested the top of the ridge, they could see in the distance the structures Pug had referred to. More, they saw what looked to be a vast blue body of water beyond.

  ‘‘If we can get to the shore,’’ said Owyn, ‘‘I think I can contrive a way for us to get water without salt.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps this island exists in a vast lake,’’ said Gorath hopefully.

  ‘‘That would be welcome.’’

  They moved down the ridge, and as they reached the bottom of the ridge, Gorath shouted, ‘‘Water!’’

  He almost jumped into a crevice, and said, ‘‘It’s fresh. Hand me your skin.’’

  Owyn did so and after a minute, Gorath handed him back the skin, partially filled, so he could drink without waiting any longer. Owyn drank, and Gorath said, ‘‘Slowly. Too fast and you may swoon.’’

  Owyn forced the liquid from his lips. It was thick with the taste of minerals and warm, but it was the best water he could remember tasting. He watched as Gorath did the same with his own waterskin, then set it aside and took back Owyn’s.

  This time he filled both skins, and said, ‘‘I will mark this place, so if we don’t find another source on our search, we can return here.’’

  Owyn nodded, and said, ‘‘We are close to those ruins.’’

  Gorath said, ‘‘We should reach there before sundown.’’

  They drank their fill, then moved on.

  They encountered another yurtlike dwelling, almost buried in the dust, a few hundred yards shy of their goal. They had thought they had seen ruins, but at this distance, they could see seven massive pillars, appearing to be fashioned from stone. Gorath again used his sword to move aside the leather curtain of the hut, and Owyn peeked in.

  Inside he found another note:

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  Tomas,

  While I have so far found no evidence of Gamina in the ruin, I have learned some things about this planet. Magic has been transformed here; what some magicians call ‘mana’

  has been reduced to a crystal form. No natural phenomenon could account for such a transformation, so I can only assume some agency on the order of the gods did this, as even the Valheru would only have created a cataclysm by undertaking such a feat. It may be this act inspired Drakin-Korin to create the Lifestone, but that’s a matter for us to ponder at our leisure.

  I learned much by touching the pillars at the north end of the island. Avoid the center one; I was ill for days after I touched it. In my weakened state I was almost overcome by two of the creatures I mentioned before. Only my skill with stone and sling saved me, but the conflict taught me much.

  I have left an item for you; I do not know if it will help you with your Valheru-born magic, but I thought it would do no harm to leave it for you. Perhaps after I have found Gamina, I will have an opportunity to study more of the wonders on this world.

  Pug

  Owyn looked around and saw a long bundle set to the side of the round tent. He unwound another faded rug, identical to the one found in the previous hut, and inside saw what looked to be a staff fashioned of a strange blue crystal. He touched the staff, instantly snatching his hand back.

  ‘‘What is it?’’ asked Gorath.

  ‘‘I am not sure,’’ said Owyn. He slowly reached out and touched it again. ‘‘This is amazing,’’ he said.

  He held out his right hand while he touched the staff with his left, closed his eyes, and a moment later a glow of light emanated from his fingertips. ‘‘I can’t explain it, but this staff has given me back my powers. It’s as if this staff is made of . . . I don’t know . . . the crystallized mana Pug spoke of.’’

  ‘‘Bring it,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘We should make for the ruins before we lose the light.’’

  *

  *

  *

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  They stood on the point of the island, a high bluff which overlooked an alien sea. Seven giant pillars of crystal rose up, to seven times a man’s height. Owyn said, ‘‘I’ll start with that one.’’

  He went to the pillar farthest to the left and touched it.

  Despite a rocky appearance, it felt smooth to the touch. He squinted his eyes and saw he was actually running his fingers over a sheath of energy that clung to the surface of the pillar.

  Owyn looked into the pillar, and its many facets refracted images of the desert, sea, and sky, but also he glimpsed other places, as if the pillar showed him different lands, oceans, and skies.

  Your observations intrigue me. You are savani, are you not?

  Startled at the presence of an alien thought in his mind, Owyn shook his head. Unsure if he could simply think his reply, or speak it aloud, he decided speech would keep him focused. ‘‘I am not familiar with the term savani, so I don’t know if I’m one or not. With whom am I communicating?’’

  Gorath looked at Owyn with surprise on his face. Before Owyn could say anything to him, the voice returned to his mind. I am Sutakami, Mother of the Thousand Mysteries, once a goddess of Timirianya. You have awakened me. What do you desire?

  ‘‘I’m not sure what you are asking me,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘Are you an oracle?’’

  No. I may only tell you that which is already known, although I dimly sense things that may come to be. I sense you are new to this world. Perhaps you would wish to know of the creatures who inhabit it.

  An image filled Owyn’s mind before he could speak. The race was proud in appearance, like magnificent birds with arms instead of wings. Beaks were small and looked as if they could articulate speech. These are the Timirian. They were poets and scholars, and warriors of great skill. They were on the verge of spanning the stars when the Valheru came. They were obliterated.

  Then another figure came into his mind, a shadowy creature of impressive aspect, the very features causing Owyn to flinch.

  Although a huge set of wings dominated the figure, it was the eyes of the creature, cold icy orbs of blue, that held Owyn’s attention. These are the ancient servants of Rlynn Skrr, the last 288

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  High Priest of Dhatsavan, our Father of Gods, before the Great Destruction. Creatures of magic they now wander free of fetter, so flee if you see one, for they may only be killed by a magic designed to drain their energy into the soil. Now they wander the ancient ruins of the Temple of Dhatsavan. The voice faded and grew distant.

  I must rest . . . I am needed elsewhere.

  ‘‘Wait!’’ Owyn put his head down, as if tired. ‘‘I need to ask more.’’

  Gorath asked, ‘‘What is it?’’

  ‘‘These pillars, they’re . . . ancient gods of this world. I was speaking with this one, a goddess named Sutakami.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps if you touch another?’’ asked Gorath.

  Owyn nodded. He moved to the second pillar and touched it. ‘‘I wonder what this place was originally,’’ Owyn asked.

  You stand in the ruins of the Temple of Karzeen-Maak, once the high temple of the seven gods of Timirianya. Once, these columns were but symbols of the gods, crafted by the savani artisans who were the servants of Dhatsavan. Now they are the vessels within which we have taken refuge.

  ‘‘What could drive a god into refuge?’’ Owyn wondered.

  The Valheru, came the instant reply. They extinguished life as we knew it on this world, leaving behind little. Only when Dhatsavan showed us our struggles were futile did we create a plan to rob the Valheru of power, driving them from our world. They fled lest they be trapped here, leaving only a few of their servants behind.

  ‘‘What did you do?’’ asked Owyn.

  Of the Seven Who Ruled, only six of us survived the Great Destruction. Two have faded so far from the world they can no longer give voice to thei
r thoughts; they are now but sentient forces of nature. Only Dhatsavan will remain, waiting for the time of the Awakening. He shall call us when the need has come. . . . We shall not speak again, savani.

  Owyn looked at Gorath. ‘‘The Valheru caused this desolation.’’

  Gorath said, ‘‘They were a power matched by few. Our legends tell of them spanning the stars on the backs of dragons.

  Only the gods were greater.’’

  Owyn looked around as the sun began to set. ‘‘Apparently not all the gods. These pillars are what is left of the seven 289

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  most important gods of this world. One is dead. Two of them are mute, two I’ve already spoken to.’’

  ‘‘Pug’s note said to not touch the centermost.’’

  ‘‘So that leaves one more with whom to speak. Perhaps I can find out what happened to Pug from it.’’

  Owyn touched the next pillar, but was greeted only by a faint sensation; nothing of coherent thought. ‘‘This must be one of those who has faded to mindlessness.’’

  He walked past the centermost of the seven, heeding Pug’s warning, and went to the next pillar.

  He touched it and found it lifeless. Not even the faint sensation he had noticed on the last one remained. He moved on to the next one.

  Touching the pillar, still warm from the afternoon sun, he wondered who the Valheru had left behind.

  The Panath-Tiandn. They are creatures from another world, trained to act as artisans of magic. They have limited intelligence, but they are clever, and dangerous. They created artifacts for the Valheru.

  ‘‘Did they capture Pug?’’

  No, though they thought to, but I prevented it.

  ‘‘Who are you?’’

  We seven were the gods of this world, and I, savani, was once Dhatsavan, Lord of the Gates. But when the Valheru brought their wars of desolation, we chose these forms rather than risk the final death.

  ‘‘I don’t know the significance of much of what you say,’’

  said Owyn. ‘‘I have heard legends of the Valheru on my homeworld—’’

  What you know is unimportant, said the voice in Owyn’s mind.

  What we were is lost in time, but there is time for you to save your people from our fate.

  ‘‘Our world?’’ said Owyn. ‘‘The Valheru have been dead on my world for ages. They can’t pose any threat to us.’’

  A feeling of disinterest washed over Owyn, as if what he was saying was of no consequence to this being. The one you know as Pug of Stardock will tell you more when the time comes for you and your companion to make your choices. For now, you must bring to this place the Cup of Rlynn Skrr. Do this and we will free Pug from his captivity.

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  ‘‘What do gods need of mortals to fetch and carry for them?’’

  demanded Owyn.

  A sense of amusement came over Owyn as the voice replied, You are wise to question, young savani, but it is for me alone to know the truth. Seek the cup in the far caves on the southeast corner of the island. You will have to kill the Panath-Tiandn who has it.

  Bring it to me or else perish in the desolation of Timirianya. The choice is yours. I warn you, do not attempt to use the cup. Pug has already learned the harsh lesson of trying to utilize its power without my guidance. Go.

  Owyn said, ‘‘We must fetch a magic item from the farside of this island. And it seems we must battle some creatures of the Valheru to do so.’’

  Gorath said, ‘‘It’s been a long day. Let us return to that tent down the way and rest. A little food and sleep will help prepare us.’’

  Following Gorath, Owyn hoped that was true.

  It had taken half a day to find the corner of the island where the frozen god had told Owyn they’d find the cup. Now they rested on a ridge above what looked to be a village, or at least a collection of huts in front of a large cave.

  They had been watching for a half hour or more and seen no sign of movement. ‘‘Well,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘Maybe they’re deserted.’’

  ‘‘No,’’ said Gorath. He pointed to a pile of firewood. Then he pointed out a set of covered urns. ‘‘Water, I think.’’ Then he pointed at what could only be scraps of food thrown into a trench near the edge of the village. ‘‘There may not be many of these creatures left on this world, but this area is not abandoned.’’

  ‘‘Well, maybe they’ve all gone off somewhere.’’

  ‘‘Or maybe they sleep during the heat of the day and they’re all inside?’’ suggested Gorath. He stood up. ‘‘We won’t know until we go down and see what is there.’’

  Owyn followed the dark elf down the hillside, and when Gorath reached the first tent, Owyn said, ‘‘The cup is in that cave.’’

  Gorath had taken one step when the leather covering of the 291

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  hut he was about to enter swung open and a creature started to emerge.

  Owyn’s very skin crawled at the sight of it. An upright lizard, swathed in dark clothing, stood blinking in the sunlight.

  He had no opportunity to raise alarm, as Gorath thrust with his sword, running him through.

  ‘‘Three,’’ said Gorath.

  ‘‘Three what?’’ said Owyn.

  ‘‘There are three more left if this is one of the four who were tracking Pug.’’

  ‘‘Or there may be a dozen left, if they’re not the ones,’’

  whispered Owyn. ‘‘Let’s be quick!’’

  They hurried to the cave, and as Owyn started to move aside a large curtain hung across the entrance, it moved. He jumped back as a serpent man hurled himself at Gorath. Gorath barely avoided a club strike to the head, and dodged back.

  Owyn turned as another serpent creature snarled and leaped upon him, knocking him back. Owyn rolled on the ground, barely hanging on to the staff of crystal. The creature’s face was painted with yellow symbols, and Owyn knew he was struggling with some sort of Panath-Tiandn shaman. Owyn saw claws above his face and locked gaze with the creature.

  Suddenly symbols of fire burned in Owyn’s mind’s eye and he sent out a mental blast which rocked the creature back.

  Owyn spun out from under it and jumped to his feet. The creature struggled to recover from Owyn’s assault. Owyn kicked the creature as hard as he could in the head, and it collapsed.

  Two other serpent men appeared as Gorath killed the one he faced. Owyn reached into his memory for another spell and felt the staff grow warm in his hand. A sphere of fiery energy exploded from his hand and struck the first creature, engulfing it in flames. The second was splashed by flame, and its robe was set afire.

  The first fell to the ground, dying in seconds, but the second fell and rolled, screaming as it tried to put out the flames.

  Gorath hurried over and put it out of its misery.

  Owyn looked about and waited to see if any other of these creatures were present. All was quiet.

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  Finally, Gorath put up his sword, and said, ‘‘Let’s find this damned cup.’’

  Owyn went inside the dark cave, illuminated by only a single flame in a tiny brazier, and his skin crawled. The place was a center of dark magic and while he couldn’t read the symbols painted on the walls, the shapes were alien and he could sense their evil. He glanced around and saw what looked to be a small shrine. Upon it rested a cup carved out of some unknown stone.

  He reached out and took it, feeling energy rush up his arm as he gripped it. Once outside the hut, he said, ‘‘This is it, no doubt.’’

  ‘‘What does it do?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know, but I was told that it harmed Pug, and if that’s so, I will not risk trying to unravel its mystery.’’

  ‘‘Then let’s get it back to those so-called gods and see if they live up to their part of the bargain.’’ Gorath looked around. ‘‘I doubt these are the only members of this tribe on this isla
nd, and when they see what we’ve done, I think they’ll be on our trail.’’

  ‘‘Can we reach the pillars by sundown?’’

  ‘‘If we start now and don’t stop,’’ said Gorath, turning and setting off without waiting to see if Owyn was with him.

  Owyn hesitated a moment, then set out after Gorath.

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  Seventeen

  •

  Misdirection C OLD WINDS SWEPT THE BATTLEMENTS.

  James signaled the archers to be ready to offer covering fire to the approaching horsemen. Two scouts raced up the incline to the drawbridge, whipping their lathered horses to get them to the gate before it rose too far to reach. James hoped he had timed it right because too early and those riders were stranded outside the walls, and too late and enemy riders might gain the barbican, and with the small band of defenders at his disposal, any enemies inside the castle posed a serious threat.

  The first rider reached the bridge as it started to rise, and the second had to kick his horse hard to make it leap aboard the rising bridge, but they made it as James gave the order for covering fire.

  Bowmen launched a flight of arrows at the pursuers, who fell back as three in their van were knocked from their horses. They were almost entirely human renegades, with two moredhel horsemen in the mix. They milled around just out of bow range, until James gave the signal for the firing of a single catapult, which showered them with stones, killing another half dozen.

  The rest retreated down the road from the castle.

  James was down to the barbican before the cheering on the walls had faded, asking, ‘‘What did you see?’’

  The lead rider, a young corporal, said, ‘‘No sign of help to the south and too damn many of the enemy coming down from the north.’’

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  ‘‘What does it look like to the north?’’

  The young corporal rewarded James’s faith in one so young by reporting calmly, despite the close call. ‘‘Screening cavalry, who didn’t take kindly to us pokin’ about, Squire. I could see a lot of dust and some of those siege engines you told us about in the distance. Looks like they’ll be at the base of the road before nightfall.’’