Krondor Tear of the Gods

by Raymond E. Feist

  William rode down the trail for a few yards, as if he might just see something in the distance. The horse demanded fodder, and using his empathic talent for mental communication with animals, William sent him a reassuring message: Soon.

  He dismounted and rubbed the horse’s nose, causing its lip to quiver. He knew the animal liked the touch. All the while, he kept looking into the darkening woodlands, thinking that somewhere out there Bear was waiting. But at last he turned the horse around and headed back to the clearing. He could see fires were already being started and the men had their bedrolls out.

  He found a spot close to where his sergeant stood and nodded greeting. William undid his own bedroll and tossed it to the ground, then led his horse to where the picket had been staked out. He unsaddled and removed the bridle, then haltered the beast and tied it to the picket line. Finally, he gave it a nose-bag of oats, then sent a reassuring Grazing soon to all the horses. Several snorted and sent back mental images that William could only equate to human sarcasm, as if they were saying: We’ve heard that before.

  That brought a smile to William’s face. A moment later he realized it had been his first smile since Talia’s death. He glanced heavenward and silently told her, Soon you’ll be revenged. As he returned his attention to his men, William wondered how James and the others were faring with their quest.

  James was leading his horse. They had dismounted a few minutes earlier to rest the animals, but had kept moving. The journey from Krondor had been uneventful thus far, and James wished to keep it that way. They should reach the village of Miller’s Rest in one more day, and Haldon Head another day after.

  James had decided to slip out of the city with a small caravan, mixing in with the guards and merchants. At a small fork in the road, he and the others had slipped away onto a path that led to a lesser-used road headed north. They had traveled for a week, avoiding detection as far as they could tell, and James was praying that they would reach a small inn before nightfall.

  The inn would be where, if all went according to plan, they’d make contact with one of Prince Arutha’s agents in the field, and James hoped to incorporate that man into the network he was establishing. Presently, the man, who went by the name of Alan, was simply a minor court official whose office was that of estate manager for several of the Prince’s personal holdings to the north of the Principality. Unofficially, he was a snoop and gossip who often sent important information south to his ruler.

  Kendaric and Brother Solon had been silent for most of the journey. James judged the monk of Ishap a quiet man by nature, who rarely volunteered information, preferring to answer questions with simple yes-or-no answers. James had tried to engage the monk in conversation a couple of times, simply to relieve the boredom, and also out of curiosity. Solon had a slightly strange accent, which James found vaguely familiar, but the monk spoke so rarely that James couldn’t place it.

  Kendaric had just been sullen for most of the way. He had claimed confidence in his ability to raise the ship with the spell Jazhara had found in Kendaric’s room, but he objected to the necessity for travel by horseback. He was an unskilled rider and the first few days had caused him a great deal of soreness and discomfort, although by now he was, at last, starting to sit his mount with some grace and his complaints about his aching back and legs had diminished.

  Jazhara had been James’s most voluble companion, though even she often lapsed into deep, thoughtful silences, occasionally punctuated by a question about their whereabouts; she found the terrain north of Krondor fascinating, the cool woodlands being new and alien territory to a desert-born noblewoman. James continued to be impressed by her intelligence and her interest in everything around her. He had decided that not only did he like her, but that she was a great addition to Arutha’s court. And he now understood why she had held such a powerful attraction for William when he had lived at Stardock. James shared little of those feelings, apart from a man’s appreciation of a striking woman, but he recognized how another man might easily be smitten.

  Finally, Brother Solon said, “Doesn’t the road ahead look ripe for surprise?” His obvious concern caused him to utter the longest single sentence James had heard from him since the day they met.

  The warrior monk rolled his “r’s” and said “fer” in place of “for.” James halted and looked over his shoulder. “Now I recognize that speech!” he said. “I’ve spent enough time with dwarves to know that accent.” Glancing upward, above Solon’s head, in exaggeration of the man’s height, he said, “You’re the tallest damn dwarf I’ve ever encountered, Solon!”

  “And you’re the dimmest lad ever to serve a prince, if you think I’m a dwarf,” responded the monk. “I grew up on a farm near Dorgin, with naught but dwarven lads with whom to play. So, that’s the reason for my manner of speech. Now, don’t change the subject.” He pointed. “Do you ken what I’m sayin‘ about the road ahead?”

  Kendaric said, “A few bushes and a wide spot in the road worry you?”

  James shook his head. “He’s right. There’s someone hiding in the trees ahead.”

  “And doin‘ a right poor job of it, too,” added Solon.

  Jazhara said, “Should we double back?”

  The monk handed the reins of his horse to Kendaric and said, “I think not, milady. I’ll not skulk along this path like a coward!” He called out. “You who are hidden are now revealed, by my faith. Stand and face the might of Ishap or flee like the craven dogs you are!”

  After a moment of silence, a small band of men emerged from concealment. They were dressed in clothes only slightly better than rags, with an oddly mismatching assortment of armor and weapons. Two bowmen stayed behind, while two other men hung to the flanks. The small band moved onto the road, and approached, stopping a few feet away from Solon.

  The leader took a step forward, a gawky man of middle height with an impossibly large nose and Adam’s apple. James was struck that he looked as much like a turkey as any human he had seen. He half-expected the man to gobble.

  Instead, the man smiled, revealing teeth so decayed they were mostly black. “Your pardon, sirs,” he began, with a clumsy half-bow, “but if you’d see the day safely to your destination, you’d be wise not to begrudge us some silver for safe passage. After all, these are rough hills indeed.”

  Solon shook his fist at the man. “You’d dare to rob a priest?”

  The leader glanced back at his friends, who seemed uncertain as to what to do. Then he turned back to Solon. “Your pardon, sir. We wish no trouble with the gods. You are free from our demands and may go as you will. But they must pay.” He pointed at the rest of the group from Krondor.

  “They are under my protection!”

  The bandit stared up at the towering monk and then looked again to his companions. Attempting to look resolute, he said, “They don’t wear any holy vestments. They’re under no one’s protection but their own.”

  Solon stepped up close to him and said, “If you’d tempt the wrath of my god, you’d better have a very good reason!”

  James said, “Let’s just kill them and get on with it.”

  Solon said, “No bloodshed if we can help it, James.” Then with astonishing speed for a man of his size, the warrior monk swung one mighty fist upward, catching the bandit leader squarely under the chin. The slight man was lifted right off his feet and flung backward. His ragtag band of companions scrambled to catch him as he fell. Solon glared out from under his gold-colored helm and said, “Any other of you daft twits think you can extort silver from us?”

  The men glanced at one another, then as two of them carried their unconscious leader, they hurried off, while those on the side of the road vanished into the brush.

  When the road appeared empty once more, Solon returned to his horse. “I thought not,” he said.

  James and Jazhara exchanged glances, then both started to chuckle. James mounted his horse and declared, “Let’s go.”

  The others followed suit and soon t
hey were again riding cautiously through the darkening woodlands.

  As night fell, they turned a bend in the trail and spied light ahead. James signaled for caution and they slowed to a walk.

  As they approached the light they discovered they had chanced upon an inn, nestled close to the road in a small clearing. A single two-story wooden building with a large shed behind for horses, the inn was marked with a cheery glow from within, smoke rising from the chimney, and a sign depicting a man with a rucksack and walking stick.

  “This must be the Wayfarer,” said James.

  “Then the Prince’s agent should be waiting for us?” asked Kendaric. “This man Alan?”

  James nodded. “Before we go inside,” he said to Kendaric, “remember, don’t be too free with who we are or where we’re going. Bear may have agents here as well.”

  Kendaric said, “Look, I don’t care about any of this intrigue. I just want a bed and a hot meal. Is that too much to ask?”

  James looked at the guildsman. Dryly, he answered, “Unfortunately, it often is too much to ask.”

  They dismounted and James shouted for the hostler.

  Quickly a lackey arrived from the shed behind the building and took the horses. James spent a few moments instructing the boy on the care he required for the mounts. When he was satisfied that the horses would be well-tended, he motioned to the others to follow him into the inn.

  James pushed open the door and they entered a tidy, though crowded, taproom. A merry fire burned in the hearth, and travelers and locals mixed easily as they ate and drank.

  James led his companions through the taproom to the bar. A stout-looking man behind the counter looked up and with a broad smile said, “Sir!” Then spying Jazhara and the other two men, added, “Lady, and gentlemen, I’m Goodman Royos, the innkeeper. How may I be of service?”

  “For a start, a round of ale for weary travelers.”

  “Certainly!” With practiced efficiency Royos quickly produced four large pewter jacks of ale. As he placed them on the bar, he asked, “Where are you heading?”

  “North,” James answered. “So, what’s the news in these parts?”

  “Oh, everything’s been pretty quiet of late, although Farmer Toth’s wife just rode through for Krondor. She seemed quite upset.”

  “Any idea why?” asked Jazhara.

  Royos shrugged. “Can’t say. She and her husband have a farm ten miles or so this side of Haldon Head. They usually stop here for a bite on their way to the city or coming back, sometimes spend the night under their wagon out back where I keep the horses. Nice folks.”

  Kendaric said, “You said something about Haldon Head. We’re heading there. Is it far?”

  Jazhara rolled her eyes. “Kendaric . . .”

  Royos said, “Haldon Head? No, just another couple of days. I don’t want to scare you folks, but rumor has it that Haldon Head is cursed with witchcraft!”

  Jazhara said, “What do you mean by ‘witchcraft’?”

  Royos said, “Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not superstitious myself, but ships have sunk off Widow’s Point ever since men began sailing these waters. Some say it’s a curse, but I figure it’s just the reefs and shoals when the tide is tricky.”

  Brother Solon said, “You say lots of ships go down there?”

  “For hundreds of years. Some fall prey to their captains’ ignorance of the reefs and the tides, others are taken by pirates. There are pirates who know this shoreline like the backs of their hands. They’ll run ships aground, then board them while they’re helpless.”

  James said, “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

  Royos laughed. “I wasn’t always an innkeeper . . .”

  James nodded. “I’ll not ask what you were before.”

  “Wise choice,” said Royos.

  Solon said, “So what’s up at Haldon Head to be superstitious about?”

  Royos chucked. “Well, some say the area is haunted by the ghosts of all the dead sailors.” He shook his head. “It’s probably just the fog that lingers offshore.”

  “That’s all?” asked Solon.

  Royos frowned as his demeanor turned a little more serious. “Well, lately I’ve heard tales about some folks gone missing up there, and cattle getting sick and the like.” Then, returning to his cheery mood, he said, “Still, cattle are always getting sick, seems to me, and people do wander off from time to time.”

  Kendaric said, “We’re also looking for a fellow named Alan.”

  Royos said, “That’s Alan over there in the corner to your right. He regularly stops by when passing through.” Lowering his voice, the innkeeper said, “I think he does some business for the Crown, though he’s not much of a talker.” Leaning back, he added, “But he’s a wonderful listener. Never once saw him walk away from a yarn or tale.”

  James threw Kendaric a black look, then turned and crossed through the crowd to the opposite corner. A solitary man occupied a small table there, watching the room with his back to the wall. James said, “Alan?”

  “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think you do. We’re from the ‘Citadel.’”

  Alan waved James closer. “Glad to hear it. ‘Uncle Arthur’ sent word you’d be coming by.”

  James sat at the only other chair at the table, with Kendaric and Jazhara standing behind. Solon looked around the room to ensure they weren’t overheard.

  “What’s the word on William’s quest?”

  “He’s doing fine. He and his friends are hunting up in the mountains. Word was sent back they’ve found ‘bear tracks.’”

  Lowering his voice, James asked, “What have you heard from Haldon Head?”

  “I haven’t been up there for a while. That town seems to be under some sort of curse. I’ve heard about sick people, sick farm animals, missing children, and there are rumors of dark creatures roaming the night. I don’t know what’s true, but I’ve met a lot of people on the road who are getting away from there in a hurry. They say it’s witchcraft.”

  Jazhara said, “I hate that word! What do you mean?”

  Alan glanced up at Jazhara, and while he had never seen her before he must have deduced she was the Prince’s new magician, for he said, “Begging your pardon, milady. There’s an old woman living at Widow’s Point who the local villagers in Haldon Head go to with their common ailments. They’ve always tolerated her, even welcomed her when they were ill, but with the strange goings-on of late, they’ve taken to calling her a witch.”

  Jazhara said, “Perhaps we can be of some assistance when we reach Haldon Head.”

  James said, “Where are you off to next?”

  “I’m hurrying down to the garrison at Sarth. Word is we’ve got goblins raiding to the east of here. Likely there’s a camp nearby.”

  “They going to be a problem to us in reaching Haldon Head?” asked James.

  “I don’t think so, but it’s best to stay on the road during daylight. So far, I’ve only heard of them hitting farms for food animals.” Looking around the crowded room, he said, “I’d best slip out now. I’ve got a small patrol camped down the road. Thought it best not to call attention to myself. I should rejoin them and start out for the south at first light.” He rose. “One last thing, the patrol sent to aid you hasn’t reached Miller’s Rest yet. They could be there by the time you pass through, or show up later. Best to stay out of trouble at Haldon Head until you know they’re in place.”

  James thanked Alan and the agent departed.

  Kendaric asked, “Can we get something to eat?”

  James nodded. “And some rooms.” He stood up and returned to the bar to arrange it with Goodman Royos.

  William waited patiently for the return of the Pathfinders. He had stopped his patrol at a small clearing near a brook. A tree had been blazed with the agreed-upon cut, a symbol that meant “wait here.”

  He could feel the tension in the pit of his stomach. The only reason for making such a mark was that
they were closing in on their quarry. Time dragged as he waited for the return of the scouts. He considered his options. He had been trailing Bear for over a week now. Several times he had waited while the Pathfinders had lost the trail only to pick it up again a few hours later. On two occasions, it was clear that Bear had met with other men. The Pathfinders deduced that he was recruiting mercenaries. Twice, other riders had left Bear’s group to ride off on errands of one sort or another. Three times they had come across signs of goblins in the area, and William had even dispatched one of his riders back to Krondor to carry word of their possible incursion into the Principality. William prayed this was just some tribal migration to better hunting grounds, and not a gang of raiders. He wanted to concentrate his energy on Bear and his men, not a group of nonhuman troublemakers looking to steal cows and children. He knew that if he did encounter a raiding band, he’d be honor-bound to attempt to drive them back up into the mountains and that to do so would risk losing track of Bear. As much as he wanted to avenge Talia’s murder, he couldn’t abide the thought of a human child being sacrificed in one of the goblins’ magic rites.

  Finally, one of the two Pathfinders appeared. It was Jackson who came into the clearing, leading his horse. “We’ve spotted a band of mercenaries, Lieutenant.”

  “Bear’s men?”

  “Marie thinks so, but we saw no sign of the man himself. From the description, he’d be a hard one to miss. Marie’s staying close. They’re camped in a little clearing about a mile up the road. Best if we slip half the company around them, then hit them from both sides.”

  William considered the plan. He disliked the idea of splitting his forces while on the march, yet he knew that if he came at the mercenaries from one side only, they might break and flee into the woods. He needed intelligence more than dead bodies. At last he nodded. “How long?”

  “We can be in place in an hour.”

  William glanced at the late afternoon sky. They would attack the mercenaries as it was getting dark. “Good. Be ready at sunset. Don’t attack until you hear us coming, then hit them hard.”