Flight of the Nighthawks

by Raymond E. Feist

  “Mamanaud!” she said, her voice rising to an angry tone, and she pointed at the boys.

  Zane turned to look at Tad and said, “Mamanaud?”

  Just then, two fists the size of hams gripped the boys’ shoulders and the largest man they had ever seen shoved them hard, back into their room. Both lads collapsed in a heap, while in the hall, the older woman screamed what sounded vaguely like insults at them. The large man entered the room and pulled a very long, very sharp curved dagger from his belt.

  Everything had taken place so quickly, the boys were not quite sure what had happened. The huge man took a menacing step toward them but suddenly a sword blade rested on his shoulder at the crook 1 7 7

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  of his neck, and a voice from behind him said, “Try not to move, my friend, unless you wish to bleed profusely.”

  The huge man frowned and froze in mid - step, his face looking like a dark brown pumpkin with eyes and a tiny nose above his broad mouth. The woman shouted something unintelligible from the hall and a man’s voice answered her. “I’m sure it was all just a misunder-standing, madam, and the boys meant no harm or insult.”

  Still prevented from seeing anything through the door by the motionless behemoth who occupied their entire field of vision, the boys then heard the voice of Pablo Maguire saying, “What is going on here?”

  A three - voiced conversation then ensued; the woman shouting in an almost hysterical pitch, while two male voices appeared to be trying to assuage her concerns.

  The big man in the doorway put his dagger away slowly and backed out the door, so now the boys could see a swordsman standing behind him, his blade resting on the man’s neck. “Now, I’m going to remove my sword from your neck,” he said, “and you’ll go see to your mistress without any more fuss.”

  The bodyguard moved forward a step and turned. Just before he could face the wielder of the blade, he found the point of the weapon at his neck once more. “Ah ah ah!” said the young man holding the sword. “That wouldn’t be very wise.”

  The big man stepped away, threw a nasty glance at the two boys, and turned and vanished into the room at the end of the hall.

  The man with the sword walked over to the door and said, “You boys all right?”

  Tad and Zane both nodded. Tad said, “We are in your debt.”

  “Not really,” said the man, putting his sword into its scabbard.

  He had dark hair and blue eyes, and his movements were cat - quick.

  He smiled and looked younger than he had a moment before. “I followed them up the stairs, and when I saw the confusion ahead of me, I thought it best to keep that mountain of a man—assuming he is human and not some troll they’ve shaved—from gutting you two.” He glanced around. “Actually, I was looking for a man named Caleb.”

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  “That’s our stepfather,” said Zane. “He’s going to be gone for a while.”

  “Ah,” said the swordsman. “Well, I guess I need to come back later. How long might he be?”

  “He said two hours,” answered Tad. “We were going to do some more exploring over by the eastern caravanserai.”

  He nodded. “I think I shall wait here for a few more minutes.”

  He indicated the end of the hall with a lift of his chin. “Just to make sure you’re not followed. I don’t think Caleb would appreciate me letting you get turned into chopped meat any time soon.”

  “I’m Tad, and this is Zane.”

  The man bowed, and the boys could see he was fi nely dressed.

  “I’m Talwin Hawkins, an old friend of Caleb’s.” He winked at the boys. “Go on, then; see if you can find yourselves some fun that doesn’t involve bloodshed.”

  He stood aside as the boys left the room and then followed them into the hall and down the stairs. Reaching the common room, Tal said, “I have a message for Caleb, when you see him.”

  “Sir?” asked Tad.

  “Tell him the usual time, same place, tomorrow night. Got it?”

  Tad repeated the message back to him.

  “I need to be off, just in case.”

  “Just in case, sir?” asked Zane.

  “Yes, exactly,” said Tal, moving toward the door. “If I were you, I would head outside and keep yourselves busy until Caleb returns.

  That bodyguard up there could eat you both for lunch and still have room for an ox.” He disappeared out the door.

  Tad looked at Zane. “Well, we still have some daylight. Let’s wander around the bazaar.”

  Seeing no reasonable alternative, the boys returned outside and decided to use the last hours of sunlight for something more enjoy-able than being thrashed by Mamanaud.

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  TWELVE

  D i s c o v e r y

  Nakor looked around.

  “What exactly are we looking for?”

  Pug motioned around himself, swinging his arm in a wide arc ahead of them. “Since Leso Varen fl ed Olasko, we’ve been trying to find the range of his ‘death rifts,’ for lack of a better term.”

  “That much I know,” said Nakor, walking though knee - high grass.

  They were standing with Ralan Bek in the middle of a wide grassland that swept down from the mountains to the east, approximately three days’ ride from the border between the Kingdom of the Isles and the Duchy of Maladon and Semrick. Had they traveled by horseback from the nearest city, Maladon, it would have taken another four days.

  Flight of the Nighthawks

  Bek stood watching the two men wandering through the grass in front of him and laughed. “Are we going to be walking around in circles all day?”

  Pug glanced at the troubling young man and nodded. “If need be. Over a year ago we found evidence of some very powerful, very dark magic, and without boring you further, let’s just say that there is a relationship between that magic and a great deal of trouble yet to come.

  “It would help us if we could find . . . the track, if you will, between the place this magic originated—in Olakso’s capital, Opardum—and somewhere else. Our best calculations indicate that we should fi nd a place where we can pick up that trail somewhere near here, if that makes sense.”

  Bek shook his head and laughed. “You name places I’ve never heard of. One moment it’s mid - winter, and the next it’s summer. You speak with a strange tongue, yet I can still understand most of what you say.

  “Besides,” he added with another laugh. “I was not given the choice about being here or not. So, here I am.” He narrowed his gaze at Pug. “And none of it makes sense.”

  Pointing to a stand of trees a hundred yards to the north, he added, “But I think you’ll find what you’re looking for over there.”

  Pug raised his eyebrows as he looked at Nakor, who shrugged.

  The two men turned toward the trees and Nakor said, “I don’t sense anything.”

  “Varen worked hard to disguise his work. Look how long it took us to trace the link this far.”

  Turning to Bek, Nakor said, “Stay here so we can mark this spot if we find nothing in the trees.”

  Bek took off the black hat he had taken from the man he had killed at the Talnoys’ cave and feigned a courtly bow. “Your wish is my command, Nakor.”

  The two old friends walked toward the trees and Pug said, “Have you thought about what we should do with him?”

  Nakor said, “The simple solution is to kill him.”

  “We’ve murdered for our cause, but only when we judged that 1 8 1

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  there was no other way.” Pug glanced back at Bek who stood quietly where they had told him to wait. “And had you thought that there was no other way, I am certain you would never have brought him to Sorcerer’s Isle.”

  “True. Potentially, he may be the most dangerous man we have ever encountered.” Nakor reached into his bag, pulled out an orange, and offered it to Pug who shook his head. The little gambler started to peel
it. “As powerful as he is at twenty summers old, can you imagine what he might become in a hundred years, two hundred?”

  “Will he survive that long?” asked Pug as they reached the edge of the trees.

  “Look at you, me, and Miranda,” said Nakor as they stepped between the boles. The white and brown peeling bark confused their vision for a moment, as did the sudden shadow after standing out in the midday sun. “You and Miranda have powerful magic to keep you young, but me, I only have my tricks.”

  Pug nodded, smiling indulgently. “Call it what you will, Nakor.

  I’ll concede that your talent has no logic or system to it, but you may still be the most adept practitioner of magic on this world.”

  Nakor shrugged. “I don’t think so, but that’s not the point.” He lowered his voice, as if there were a remote chance Bek could overhear them. “I have something inside me, Pug. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s been here”—he tapped his chest—“since I was a boy.

  “I am like Bek in some ways. But I think that whatever it is inside of me, it is not a piece of the Nameless One. But it is similar. I think that’s why I can do all my tricks.”

  Pug nodded. “We’ve drunk many a cup of wine before the fi re while discussing this sort of thing, Nakor.”

  “But this is not a theory any more, Pug. He is real.” He pointed in Bek’s direction. “And when I touched that thing within him, there was no doubt about what I found. No doubt at all.”

  Pug nodded, saying nothing.

  “One of our favorite discussions is about the nature of the gods.”

  “Many times,” said Pug.

  “I once told you that I suspected that there is an ultimate god. A 1 8 2

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  being that is connected to everything—I mean everything, Pug. And everything below him, her, or it is also connected.”

  “I remember. It’s as good an explanation for how the universe hangs together as any I’ve heard. Your theory is that the Greater Gods, the Lesser Gods, and all other beings were this ultimate god’s attempt to understand himself.”

  “I’ve said that he’s like a baby before—pushing things off a table to watch them fall, over and over and over. Watching and trying to understand what is happening. But we are talking about a time scale of millions of years, billions, perhaps. This supreme being has all the time in the world, more—it has all the time there ever was or will be.

  “Would it then not make sense that the gods beneath this one might also somehow reach down and touch lesser beings, so they might, too, come to understand their place in the universe?”

  “So the Nameless One placed a tiny piece of himself inside Bek in order to learn about his place in the universe?”

  “No,” said Nakor. “It’s possible, but I don’t think that is his intention.

  “I think the Nameless One has had many agents like Varen working on his behalf over the years.” Nakor looked at Pug. “Tell me about him.”

  “You’ve heard all I know already.”

  “Tell me about the time you first encountered him.”

  “When I got word of him, he was already an accomplished practitioner of the dark arts. Arutha was the prince in Krondor then, and Duke James his principal agent, a young baron at the time; he, my son, and one of my most able students confronted a magician named Sidi, who I now believe was Varen in a different body.”

  “I remember that story about the amulet,” said Nakor. “No one’s ever found it, have they?”

  Pug shook his head. “It’s still out there somewhere. Until the assault on Elvandar and our island last year, seizing the Tear of the Gods was Varen’s last overt attempt at bringing chaos to our world.

  “Between those events he was content to work in quiet, out - of -

  the - way places.”

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  “Like Kaspar of Olasko’s Citadel?” asked Nakor with a grin.

  “Hardly an out - of - the way place, I’ll grant you, but how many people knew he was there? It was a very well kept secret outside Kaspar’s household,” Pug said. “His necromancy has given him the power to move from body to body. My research indicates that somewhere there is a vessel in which his true soul—for lack of a better term—resides. This allows his mind to capture bodies and use them at will.

  “He will not stop until he destroys the Conclave or any other opposition to his mission, which is simply to propagate evil at every hand. So, he is a problem.” Pug pointed in Bek’s direction. “And now, from what you say, we have another one right over there.”

  “But I don’t think he’s like Varen,” said Nakor, tossing aside the orange peel. “Varen was recruited, or seduced, or trapped, conned, or whatever term you like, either with the promise of power or eternal life or something. No sane man gives himself over willingly to evil.”

  “There is nothing sane about Leso Varen.”

  “But he may have been at one time,” said Nakor, “merely a luck-less man who blundered into the wrong place at the wrong time. That amulet you spoke of can take over a weak - willed man and drive him mad. And sanity is all that stands between good and evil.

  “There is no possibility that this young man will be remotely sane in a few more years. He’s already lost any sense of morality; he is driven by impulse and little else.”

  “What possible use can we have for a man with no morality, no moral compunctions against doing evil?”

  “We found a use for Kaspar, didn’t we?” asked Nakor.

  Pug was silent for a moment, then said, “Point taken, but he was under Varen’s influence. This lad is directly touched by the Nameless One. Isn’t that a difference?”

  “I don’t know, Pug, but I know we either have to kill him soon, before he becomes too dangerous, or try to change him somehow.”

  “I can understand your reluctance to kill him outright, Nakor, but why the desire to change him?”

  “Because what if my surmise is correct, that the gods put tiny pieces of themselves in us to learn?”

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  “Fair enough, but you said you doubted the Nameless One was motivated by such.”

  “Yes,” said Nakor with another grin. “But there are often unintended consequences of our acts. What if we can send back this tiny message that without a balance, and without good, evil cannot exist?”

  “From what you’ve surmised, would it make any difference?”

  “It must, for it is the nature of reality. Consider the ancient sym-bol of the ying and yang, the circle contains both black and white, but within the white is a spot of black, and within the black a spot of white! Opposing forces, but each with a touch of the other within.

  While he may be mad, the Nameless One must recognize it as a fundamental truth.”

  Pug laughed ruefully. “We may never know, and that is fi ne, for the gods have given us limited scope in our powers and knowledge.

  I’m content with that. But I must put those things I can understand and control ahead of your theories, no matter how wondrous they may be.

  “In the end, should Bek prove a threat to the Conclave, I will destroy him as I would step on a cockroach. Without hesitation. Are we clear on this?”

  “Very,” said Nakor, losing his grin. “But I think we need to study this youngster for a while longer before destroying him.”

  “Agreed, but I want you to consult with others back at the island.

  And before that, I want you back in Novindus with the Talnoy. They are a real and immediate threat. We need to find a way to control them without using that ring.”

  Nakor nodded in agreement. The ring that controlled the Talnoy had the unfortunate side effect of driving the wearer mad.

  Pug looked around. “Now, let’s see if we can find that trail.”

  “It’s over there,” said Nakor, pointing to a tiny shimmering fragment hanging about five feet in the air, among some brush. “I not
iced it while we were talking.”

  Pug hurried over to the tiny fragment of energy, less than eigh-teen inches long, floating in the air, between two branches of a bush.

  “We could have been out here for years,” said Pug. “How do you think the boy knew?”

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  Nakor shrugged. “This is a very evil thing, and given his nature . . . ?”

  “You think he’s somehow attuned?”

  “Apparently,” replied Nakor. He studied the tiny energy fragment. “Do you have any idea how this thing works?”

  “When I fought against the magic of Murmandamus, under the city of Sethanon, I encountered something like this, but far less subtle. It was the brute force approach to the problem. This is delicate, almost . . . artistic.”

  “Given the carnage we found in that abattoir Varen lived in at Kaspar’s citadel, this is unexpected,” Nakor observed.

  “Varen might be a murderous madman, but he’s not stupid. In fact, were he sane, he might have been a valuable asset to us.”

  “Were he sane, there might not be any ‘us,’ Pug.”

  “Not the Conclave, perhaps, but there would have been some group of us or another working together.”

  Nakor studied it and said, “Where does this go?” He pointed to the tiny thread of energy, a shimmering silver- green light that was no more than a foot long.

  Pug pointed to the end that was closest to himself. “This comes from the last place it manifested. There’s a quality about it that is the same.”

  He pointed to the east. “About a hundred or so miles that way.”

  “Did it look like this?”

  “No,” said Pug softly. “There it was a sphere, about the size of a grape. And it was somehow anchored in place by energy that tethered it to the ground. It was invisible to the eye and without substance, so you could walk through it and never notice. It took a particularly adept spell to reveal it to us. This appears to be . . .” He looked back along the line of the energy, as if seeing something. “I don’t know how he did this. It looks as if . . .” Then his eyes widened. “He’s found a way to make this energy jump, Nakor!”