Krondor Tear of the Gods

by Raymond E. Feist

  When he reached the ground he put his ear next to the tent and listened, but could hear nothing through the heavy canvas. The bottom of the tent was tightly staked, so lifting the canvas and crawling under it was not an option. He pulled out his dagger.

  Quietly, he pushed the point into the heavy canvas, and cut downward in a steady, firm motion, so as not to make too much noise. He made a slit that was big enough to peer through and looked inside. The stench that struck him almost made him vomit. He knew that stink: dead bodies. He choked down his gag reflex and looked around.

  Three goblins slept on bedrolls on the ground, while another lay upon a raised dais before an altar of some sort. James looked for the baby and saw a small object behind the altar, about the size of a cradle. Slipping through the cut in the canvas, he crept toward the object.

  It was indeed a rude cradle and in it the baby lay sleeping. He glanced around and suppressed a shudder. There were body parts lying upon the altar, arranged in a grotesque parody of a human form. An upper torso from a woman lay above the pelvis of a man. A child’s arm had been placed to the left, while the arm of an older child or a small woman lay on the right. Equally mismatched legs and feet were positioned below the pelvis. James glanced into the cradle. It seemed likely that this child was to provide the head. He had no idea of what black sorcery was being practiced, and he had no intention of lingering to find out. His recent experience in the Nighthawks’ desert stronghold, where he had almost been the guest-of-honor at a demon-summoning, had left him with a strong aversion to such goings-on.

  James adroitly removed the vial and cloth from his shirt and, holding his breath, dabbed some liquid on the cloth. When it felt damp, he held out the cloth, and hung it above the child’s face. After a moment, he put the cloth down on the edge of the cradle, and returned the stopper to the vial. He put the vial back in his shirt and bent over to pick up the baby.

  A startled grunt caused him to look across the altar. The goblin priest who had been sleeping on the other side was standing there, staring at James in wide-eyed amazement. James grabbed the cloth and flipped it, sending it spinning across the altar to cover the goblin’s nose and mouth. The priest blinked in surprise then started to reach up, but as his black-clawed fingers touched the cloth, his eyes rolled back up into his head and he slumped to the floor. Silently, James said, “Thank you, Jazhara,” and scooped up the baby.

  Taking the child’s blanket, he rigged a shoulder sling, and fled the terrible place, carrying the baby as he had often carried treasure after burglarizing houses as a boy. He climbed the rock face and quickly made his way back around the rim, expecting a cry of alarm every step of the way. When he reached a place where it was safe to descend, he jumped down and started running.

  It seemed to take forever to get back to the others; but they had the horses ready and were in the saddle by the time he reached them.

  “I have her,” James said, and Jazhara held out her arms. James handed the child to the magician, then mounted his own horse.

  The four of them urged their horses forward and soon were trotting down the trail.

  An hour later they found Farmer Toth, sitting beside a small fire waiting anxiously. When they rode into view, he leapt to his feet and hurried toward them.

  Seeing the bundle in Jazhara’s arms, he cried, “Is that her?”

  Jazhara handed the baby down and said, “She will sleep until morning, then she will be a little listless for the next few hours. After that, she will be fine.”

  “Thank you! Praise the gods! She’s still alive and well. Thank you so very much.”

  James glanced around. “We’ll ride with you back toward your farm. The goblins may not realize she’s gone until dawn, but it’s better to be cautious.”

  “I’m grateful to you,” said the farmer, turning to walk beside them along the trail.

  Jazhara said, “We have other - ill - news, I’m sorry to say. Your friend Lane is dead.”

  Toth said, “I suspected as much when you returned without him.”

  “He gave the bastards a fight of it,” said Solon. He glanced at Kendaric, who was wise enough to stay silent. “He was a hero, of that there is no doubt.”

  Toth was silent for a moment, then said, “We had yet to name our baby, but I think from now on I shall call her ‘Lane’ in his memory.”

  “Tis a fine honor,” agreed Solon.

  As dawn broke, they were miles down the road. They had taken a couple of short breaks and James and Solon had let Toth ride for periods while they carried the baby, Lane.

  A little after sunrise the baby stirred and fussed. “She’s hungry and her mother’s nowhere nearby,” said the farmer. “She’ll have to wait until we reach my farm and I can milk the goat.”

  “How far?” asked Kendaric, who was getting a stiff neck from looking back over his shoulder every few minutes.

  “Not far,” answered Toth. “And with luck, if my missus got any help in Krondor, she might be back at the farm by the time we get there.”

  James and Jazhara let their horses fall back a little and Jazhara said, “You’ve been very quiet about what you saw in the camp.”

  “Yes,” agreed James.

  “Something disturbed you,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Something you don’t wish to talk about?”

  “Yes,” James replied, then after a moment, he said, “No, perhaps I should talk about it, to you at any rate. You’re the Prince’s advisor on things magical.” He described the altar and the body parts.

  “Some black necromancy, certainly,” said Jazhara. “It’s a very bad business, but it fits in with that monster we found in the sewers of Krondor. Someone is creating agents of chaos to unleash upon the Kingdom, but toward what end . . . ?”

  “Could it be a coincidence? Maybe the goblins just happened to be interested in the same . . .” The questions petered out under her disapproving look.

  “You know better,” she replied. “There is an agency behind this, some force that’s orchestrating it all.”

  “The Crawler?” asked James.

  Jazhara shrugged. “Perhaps, or perhaps it is someone in league with the Crawler, or someone using the Crawler, or perhaps the coincidence is that there are two malevolent forces loose in the West of the Kingdom.”

  “Wonderful,” James muttered. “My old bump of trouble tells me that none of this is unrelated. It’s just that we can’t see the pattern.”

  “What if there is no pattern?” mused Jazhara.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if everything we see is the product of some set of random choices? What if there is no single plan in place but, rather, a series of events designed to destabilize the region?”

  “To whose benefit?” asked James.

  Jazhara smiled. “Do you have an hour to run through the entire list, James?”

  James nodded, yawning. “I must be getting tired,” he confessed. “Kesh, Queg, some of the Eastern Kingdoms even, then a half-dozen minor nobles who would find opportunity in an unstable period to become major nobles, etc.”

  “Those are just the political realities,” said Jazhara. “There are dark forces who have no political aims, but who have social ambitions, or worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean forces who are in league with dark powers who would cherish chaos as a kind of smokescreen behind which they may move to preeminence.”

  Solon turned. “I heard that. She’s right, you know. There are forces in the universe whose only aim is to bring misery and darkness upon us all.”

  James said, “I have always had trouble with that as an idea, but then again I’ve never been a mad priest of a dark power.”

  Jazhara laughed, and even Solon was forced to chuckle. “Well, then, at least you’re wise enough to admit something you can’t imagine exists,” said the monk, letting his horse fall back a little so he could ride abreast of James and the magician.

  James said,
“I can imagine a lot. And what you just said about forces whose only aim is misery and chaos is certainly in character with our current mission.”

  “Aye,” agreed the monk. “There is that.”

  They continued on in silence until they reached Farmer Toth’s farm. A dozen horses were tied to a fence a short distance from the farm. There was a company of militia in the yard and James was surprised to see a familiar face leading them.

  “Jonathan!” he called out. “What brings you this far from the city?”

  The son of the former Sheriff of Krondor turned and held up his hand in greeting. “Things are still being sorted out, Squire, so His Highness thought it best if I was out of the way for a little while.”

  James dismounted and handed his reins to a nearby soldier, while Farmer Toth and his wife had a joyous reunion. James motioned for Jonathan Means to step away and said, “What’s that mean?”

  “It means Captain Garruth is trying to convince His Highness to do away with the office of sheriff and consolidate all enforcement of municipal order in the city guard’s office.”

  “And thereby elevate his own power and authority,” said James.

  “And importance,” said Jonathan. “I don’t seek the office for myself, but there’s always been a Sheriff of Krondor.”

  James shook his head. “Sometimes . . .” He let out his breath slowly. “It’s never been wise to turn the city into a private estate of the Crown. The founding princes of the city learned that the hard way. A court of magistrates and a sheriffs office that is outside the court has always been the wisest way to deal with petty crimes and civil disputes.” He looked directly at Jonathan. “I’ll speak to Arutha about it when I get back. I doubt he’ll agree to Garruth’s proposal.” Almost to himself he added, “So then what is the reason he got you out of town?”

  Means had never struck James as someone with an abundance of humor, but he did smile as he replied, “Perhaps to return with some word from you regarding things in the north?”

  James said, “Too iffy, unless you had other instructions after coming to the relief of the farmer and his wife.”

  Jonathan nodded and they moved farther away from the others. “Arutha says there are reports of some fairly horrific things going on in this vicinity. Alan, his factor, has sent along several such reports in the last two weeks - livestock sickening, monsters in the woods, children vanishing, and similar tales. You’re to concentrate upon your mission, but you should be cautious. I am to rendezvous with the patrol heading up to Miller’s Rest, and be ready to render aid.”

  James said, “So Arutha thinks a dozen Krondorian regulars might not be enough?”

  “Apparently,” said Jonathan. “Be wary once you’re past the cut-off road to Miller’s Rest. From there to Haldon Head you are on your own until we get word to come fetch you out.”

  “Thank you,” said James. With an inclination of his head he indicated that Jonathan should return to his men.

  Left alone with his thoughts for a moment, James again wondered at the scope of the attempt to seize the Tear. How did that fit into the seemingly patternless mess made up of Nighthawks, dead thieves, monsters, sorcerers, mad priests, and all the rest they had encountered since the betrayal at Krondor engineered by Makala and the other Tsurani magicians? There had always been a third player in the mix, he knew. Not the Crawler, and certainly not the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, nor even the mad priests who had seized control of the Nighthawks.

  He sensed that Jazhara was right; there was an overriding presence behind all that had occurred in the last year, and he was determined before all was said and done to unmask that presence and rid the West of it for good.

  ELEVEN

  Haldon Head

  For two days they traveled.

  James and his companions found no patrol waiting at Miller’s Rest. They had little reason to linger, so they purchased some provisions at a small store near the mill that gave the town its name, and headed north toward the village of Haldon Head.

  South of the village a small road branched off to the west, and led down through coastal cliffs to a broad beach. James dismounted and said, “We’re only a short walk from the Point.” He indicated a promontory of land jutting out into the sea. “If the maps back at the palace are correct, we should find a headland below those cliffs just around the bend.”

  They watered and tied up the horses, then started walking. “We have a few hours of daylight left,” said James as they trudged through the sand. “Kendaric, how long does the spell take?”

  “Minutes,” said the wrecker. “I can raise the ship and hold it above the waves long enough to gain entrance and retrieve whatever it is you’re looking for.”

  “We’ll need a boat, then,” observed Solon.

  Kendaric laughed. “Not so, monk. For the genius of my spell is that not only can one man cast it, has he the talent, but it also solidifies the water around the ship. You can walk over to it and retrieve your bauble.”

  James grinned. “Perhaps we’ll get lucky and retrieve this ‘bauble’ easily.”

  They rounded the promontory and discovered that the prince’s map was indeed accurate. A long finger of rock and soil extended out into the sea. The afternoon weather was moderate, and lazy combers rose and fell off the Point. They could see a few masts poking above the water, remnants of old wrecks not yet completely consumed by the sea. They made their way along the natural breakwater, until they reached the end.

  Kendaric surveyed the wrecks revealed by the relatively low tide, the dozens of tilting masts like so many cemetery markers. He frowned. “Which one am I supposed to raise?” he asked.

  James replied, “I have no idea.”

  Solon came over to them. “This is a place of death,” he said portentously. “A graveyard of ships and men.”

  Solon gazed at the wreckage and was about to speak again when Kendaric said, “What’s that smell? Like before a storm. . . sharp. . .”

  Jazhara was the last to reach the point and she shouted, “It’s magic!”

  Gusts of wind seemed to arise out of nowhere, buffeting them and tearing at their clothes. Around them the sea began to roil, while a short distance away all was calm.

  A sudden blow sent Solon reeling and he fell hard onto the rocks. James had his sword out, yet he could not see anything to strike. Kendaric dropped down, keeping as low as possible, while Jazhara raised her staff above her head and shouted, “Let the truth be revealed!”

  A brilliant white light erupted from her staff, blinding enough to cause James to avert his eyes and blink away tears.

  Then James heard Jazhara shout, “Look!”

  He cleared his vision and, looking ahead, saw two creatures floating in the air above one of the ships’ masts. Both appeared to be roughly reptilian, with long, sinuous necks and tails. Large bat-like wings beat furiously, causing the buffeting winds. The heads were almost devoid of features, save for two ruby-colored eyes and a slit for a mouth that opened and closed, like a fish gulping water.

  Jazhara kept her feet and had to shout an incantation in order to be heard. A crimson ball of energy appeared in her hand and she cast the spell at the creatures. The ball of red light struck the creature on the right and it opened its mouth as if shrieking in pain. But all they could hear was a renewed howling of the winds. The monster on the left dove straight at the party, and James leapt to his feet, sword poised, as Solon also rose, flourishing his warhammer.

  The creature was heading straight for Jazhara, and James cut at it. As his blade touched it white-hot sparks exploded from it as the creature opened its mouth in apparent shock. The sound of shrieking wind rang in their ears. The monster faltered, and Solon stepped forward, striking downward with his huge warhammer. Stunned by the blow, the creature fell to the rocks.

  The tip of one wing struck the ground, and instantly a green flame erupted there and traveled quickly up the wing, engulfing the monster. It writhed for a moment on the rocks, flopping around hel
plessly, as James and his companions stepped back. Then it was gone, the faint smoke of its passing swept away by the wind, which blew only half as strongly as before.

  The second creature had thrown off the effects of Jazhara’s spell and was circling. It hooted, making a noise that sounded like wind gusting through a hollow tree.

  Jazhara pointed, “Look!”

  Another creature appeared out of the air, circled once, then joined the first. Again the wind that buffeted them redoubled in intensity and they had to struggle to stay upright.

  Once more Jazhara cast a spell, this one a single piercing line of crimson energy that struck the first monster in the face. It writhed in agony, losing its orientation, and rolled over, as if trying to lie upon its side in midair, then started a slow tumble into the sea below. As soon as it touched the water, it vanished in a flare of green flames, as the first one had done.

  James glanced around and found himself a rock that was large enough to have some heft, but small enough to hold. He reared back and threw it as hard as he could at the remaining creature. It too had started to make the hooting noise, which James took to be a summoning call. The rock smashed the monster in the face, interrupting the summoning.

  “Jazhara!” James shouted. “If you’ve got anything left to deal with that thing, use it now before it calls yet another of its kind.”

  Jazhara said, “I have one trick left to try!”

  She pointed her staff and a ball of flames erupted from the tip. James and Solon both turned aside as it flew between them, for they could feel its blistering heat. The fire went unerringly to the creature and surrounded it. The flames suddenly turned bright green, and the creature vanished from sight.

  Instantly the winds ceased.

  Slowly, Kendaric stood up. Looking around as if expecting another attack, he said, “What were those things?”

  Jazhara said, “Air elementals, I believe, though I’ve never seen them before. My mentors claimed things like that once attacked Stardock.”

  James nodded. “I’ve heard that story from Gardan. If they touch fire, water, or earth they’re consumed.”