Krondor Tear of the Gods

by Raymond E. Feist

  A woman sat on a stool, appearing to care for a baby in a bassinet, but as soon as she turned at James’s intrusion it was clear that she was a vampire. She rose, snarling, from her stool and launched herself at James, her fingers clawed talons and her fangs bared.

  James dodged to one side and cut at the back of her leg, hamstringing her. She fell with a shriek of pain and outrage and James slashed her across the neck. His light blade struck bone and was turned aside, and at that moment he wished for a heavier blade.

  He pulled the rapier free of the woman’s neck and hacked away at her outstretched arms. She recoiled in pain, scrambled backward, then tried to rise.

  As she stood, James leapt forward, put his foot to her stomach and pushed her outside. Her wounded leg betrayed her: as she fell backward, James lashed out with his torch, catching the hem of her skirt with the flame and igniting it.

  In moments the woman was rolling on the ground, trying to extinguish the blaze. James turned his attention to the interior of the hut. There was nothing in it except for a small table, the bassinet, and a bucket near the fireplace. There was no obvious hiding place, no chest or likely receptacle for an important item such as the vampire’s soul vessel.

  James stepped forward and looked into the bassinet. He grimaced at what he saw: the body of a baby lay in it. It had obviously been dead for some time. Its tiny body was shrunken, the skin stretched over the fragile bones. But what was most repulsive was the red light which emanated from its body.

  James hesitated, reluctant to touch the little corpse. Then, he put aside his revulsion and touched the child’s stomach. Something hard resisted his finger. He pulled out his dagger, swallowed hard and cut into the infant’s flesh. Inside the baby’s rib-cage a large ruby-colored stone glowed with an evil brilliance.

  James was forced to break two ribs to remove the object. By the time he had done so, Jazhara had reached the door. “They’re all dead - ” She stopped, aghast. “What is that?”

  James said, “I’m not sure, but I think the baby is the vessel.”

  Jazhara stared at the red jewel. “Then that would be the Soul Stone,” she mused. She closed her eyes and made an incantation, then opened them and said, “There is a great deal of magic locked within that gem. And it reeks of evil.”

  “What do we do with it?” asked James.

  “Take it outside,” said Jazhara.

  The howling of wolves could be heard, getting closer by the moment.

  “Hurry,” she insisted.

  James complied with alacrity.

  Once they were both outside, Jazhara looked around. There!“ she said, pointing to the woodcutter’s work-shed. In the corner was a small bellows and forge, where tools could be repaired and sharpened. She located at once what she was looking for.

  “Put the gem on this anvil,” she instructed.

  James did so. Jazhara reached over and took a small iron hammer and lifted it. “Avert your eyes!” she commanded, and James looked away.

  He heard the smash of the hammer on the gem, then felt his skin crawl. A wash of energy made him physically ill and he had to fight to keep from retching. Next came a sense of loss and haplessness, a futility that seeped into his bones; that was followed by a blast of anger and rage that caused his heart to race and his eyes to tear.

  He gasped and heard Jazhara also gasping. When he opened his eyes, he saw she had been unsuccessful in controlling her nausea.

  Despite feeling light-headed and disoriented, the howl of the approaching wolves made him focus; he forced himself to become alert.

  Then the sky shattered. Like a latticework of faint lines, the darkness was shot through with light. As if shards of a broken window fell from above, the black night disappeared. It looked as though pieces of the dark sky were falling down, only to dissolve and fade to insubstantial mist before striking the tops of the nearby trees. From behind each shard the brilliance of the day’s light shone.

  Then, abruptly, there was daylight again - total daylight.

  The howling of the wolf pack ceased, and the daybirds started singing.

  “I didn’t expect that,” said Jazhara.

  “Well, expected or not, I’m glad to see the sun again,” James replied. He glanced in the direction of the fiery orb and remarked, “It’s barely midday.”

  “A lot has happened,” she said. “Come, we must return to the graveyard and see what has transpired there.”

  They hurried back through the town and down the road to the graveyard. Along the way they saw the townspeople looking out of their doors and windows, astonished and delighted at the return of daylight. A few hardier souls had ventured outside, and were now looking at one another as if seeking reassurance that something approaching normalcy was returning.

  They were out of breath and sweating from the returned heat of the sun by the time they reached the vault. Solon and Kendaric were still blocking the crypt door.

  “Where have you been?!” cried Kendaric.

  “You did something,” said the monk. “All manner of madness erupted inside here and then the sky above shattered. I assume the two were related?”

  “We found and smashed the soul-gem,” said Jazhara.

  James said, “I thought he would . . . die or something when we smashed the stone.”

  “I’m no expert in this sort of thing,” Jazhara mused. “Hilda might know more. But I’m wagering now that since the gem has been destroyed, we can find a way to destroy him, too.”

  Kendaric asked, “Can’t we just leave them locked up until they wither away?”

  “Not if he’s the source of whatever is blocking your spell.”

  Kendaric stood with a resigned expression on this face. Then he started to haul away the first of the headstones blocking the crypt door. “Care to give me some help?”

  “Not really,” answered James, but he set to picking up another headstone.

  “Do we have a plan?” asked Solon.

  “We must cut off one of the Vampire Lord’s hands,” Jazhara reminded him.

  James said, “We let them open the doors. They don’t like the light, so maybe that will weaken them. I encountered a demon not too long ago whose flesh burned in the sunlight. Perhaps it’s the same with these.”

  “With the lesser vampires, perhaps,” said Solon, heaving away another stone. “But I suspect the master vampire will find it only somewhat irritating.”

  “Maybe we can kill them one at a time as they come through,” suggested Kendaric as he dropped a stone a few yards away, and returned to pick up another.

  The door started to move, as the vampires inside threw their weight against it. “We can’t burn them,” said Jazhara, “or at least we can’t burn the leader; we need his hand.”

  “Maybe we can get him to stick it out,” suggested Kendaric, “then lop it off and run like hell.”

  Solon chuckled. “We break heads and cut throats. It’s simple.”

  James stepped back from the doors as they began to push outward. “Yes, it’s simple.” Then the door swung suddenly outward and two figures leapt at him. “But that doesn’t mean easy!”

  James slashed the closest vampire across the throat as it staggered in the unexpected daylight. As soon as the sun touched the creature, its flesh started to blacken and it began to howl in pain.

  The second vampire turned and tried to reenter the crypt, but was pushed back by two more coming after it. Solon laid about him with his warhammer and knocked them first to one side, then the other.

  Jazhara struck downward with the iron end of her staff, and soon three corpses lay smoking in the sunlight. James peered into the gloom of the crypt. The bright sun made the interior dark and indistinct. Nothing appeared to move.

  “I think we’re going to have to go in and get him,” James said softly. Turning to Kendaric, he nodded toward the wrecker’s sword. “You’ve got the only blade that could cut that thing’s head off. If we get him down, try not to chop either Solon or me while you’re
at it.”

  Kendaric went pale, but nodded.

  James looked then at Jazhara and raised an eyebrow. Then he spoke again to Kendaric. “Should she be forced to set him alight, I want you to be ready to run in and chop off a hand.”

  Kendaric wiped perspiration from his upper lip with the back of his sleeve. “Which hand?”

  “Either should do, I think,” said James. He nodded once to Solon and they both charged into the crypt. They raced inside, one on either side of a central catafalque, their eyes darting to left and right.

  Three sets of three catafalques dominated the floor of the crypt and both men knew that crouched behind one of them was the Vampire Lord. As James reached the second set, he had a premonition. “Solon, look up!” he shouted.

  As the monk obeyed, a figure dropped from the peak of the roof, and only James’s warning saved him. Reacting swiftly, he spun and swung his warhammer, smashing the Vampire Lord’s ribs.

  The master vampire flew across the room, slamming into the stone wall before James, who swung his rapier and lunged, attempting to skewer the creature on the floor, but with supernatural speed the creature was up and on his feet, slipping right past James’s sword.

  Then a second vampire dropped from above, and suddenly James was borne down to the floor. The stink of carrion assaulted his sense of smell as he struggled against the power and weight of the two vampires. “Solon!” he shouted.

  The powerful monk closed upon the three figures on the floor in two strides. He gripped one by the collar of his tunic and threw him toward the door. The creature slid into the light of day and started to shriek in agony.

  Kendaric stepped forward and with as powerful a blow as he could muster he chopped off the creature’s head.

  Jazhara cried, “Duck!”

  At once, Solon crouched. Jazhara pointed her staff upward and unleashed a blast of green fire. The flames danced along the stone ceiling and two more vampires fell, writhing in burning agony.

  James found himself struggling against the strongest foe he had ever grappled with. The Vampire Lord was only the size of a tall man, but his hands gripped James’s chin and turned his head as easily as James might have turned a child’s head. As hard as he tried, James could not resist. His neck muscles felt as if they were being ripped apart, and he tried desperately to keep his head turned toward his foe. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the creature’s fangs, and realized with horror that he was about to have his throat ripped out.

  Frantically, he tried to convulse his body to buy himself a moment of freedom, but the Vampire Lord had the strength of three men. Then he saw Solon appear behind the vampire. The powerful monk gripped the monster by his long flowing hair and yanked his head back. James heard Jazhara shout, “Close your eyes!”

  Jabbing with the end of her staff, Jazhara smashed the Vampire Lord right in the mouth. His eyes opened wide with surprise and he froze for a moment as if appalled by this unexpected attack.

  Then Jazhara uttered a quick phrase and energy exploded from the tip of her staff. The creature’s head erupted in a gout of white flame, and the room rilled with the stench of burning flesh.

  The Vampire Lord rose howling and Jazhara pulled her staff free. James scrambled backward the instant he felt the weight lift from his body.

  Kendaric hurried over and with careful aim threw his weight behind his blade, and in a single circular motion sheared the creature’s head from its body. The Vampire Lord’s body fell like a stone.

  Kendaric looked as if he was going to be sick.

  James said, “Thank you; all of you.” Looking at Kendaric, he added, “Cut off the hand.”

  Kendaric shook his head and reversed the blade, holding it out to James. “If you don’t mind, you do it. I don’t think I have it in me anymore.” Then his eyes rolled up into his skull and he fell to the floor in a faint.

  Later that afternoon, they took their ease at the inn. James savored a bitter, refreshing draught of ale, while trying to ignore the pain in his wrenched neck.

  “What now?” asked Kendaric, still embarrassed at having fainted.

  “We wait until morning,” said James. “We are all tired and in need of rest. Then at first light we’ll try to raise the ship. If it fails, we’ll know Hilda was right and it’s not just the Vampire Lord but whatever’s down there in that temple.”

  “What about help?” asked Kendaric.

  “I’ll send for the garrison down in Miller’s Rest in the morning. They’ll be here in two days.”

  “Do we wait?” asked Solon.

  “No, we’ll explore the old temple. I’ve done that sort of thing a few times before. It’s unlikely there’s anyone down there. If there were, someone from the village would have seen something before this recent outbreak of trouble.”

  Jazhara sipped her ale, then said, “I am still disturbed by two things.”

  James nodded. “Who’s behind all this?”

  “Yes,” said the magician. “It’s clear that someone wants to keep this area isolated and allow his minions to seize the prize.” She glanced around to see if any of the locals in the inn could overhear her. “The Tear,” she said softly.

  “What’s the other thing that troubles you, lady?” asked Solon.

  “Where are William and the Krondorian Guard?” Jazhara said.

  James understood the double reference at once, for while Solon and Kendaric would assume she was concerned only about Bear’s whereabouts, he knew she also was worried about William’s safety.

  James sipped his ale. He thought about those two issues and realized he was just as troubled as Jazhara by them.

  FIFTEEN

  Two Fangs

  William watched.

  Just above the top of distant trees, he could see Two Fangs Pass, silhouetted in black relief by the rising sun. Two large rocks, one to each side of the trail, rose up like a viper’s fangs, giving the place its name. On either side of the fangs two clearings could be seen. As he faced north, William could see that a stand of thick forest bordered the right-hand clearing and rose up the hillside. On the left, a clearing topped a cliff overlooking a deep river gorge.

  “Are they here already, do you think?” asked Sergeant Hartag.

  “I can feel it in my bones,” replied William. “Tonight’s the new Small Moon and this is the morning the Grey Talons were supposed to lead us to the slaughter.”

  “We did the best we could getting here, Will,” said Hartag. “If we’d pushed any more the horses would be dead and the men couldn’t fight.”

  “Well, at least we know we’re in for a fight and they’re out there somewhere.”

  “How do we play it?” asked the sergeant.

  “You’re an old campaigner, Sergeant. What’s your thought?”

  The sergeant was quiet as he considered, then he said, “They’re certain to be in those trees. But I’ll wager Bear’s got a dozen or so lying low in that meadow on the left, by the cliff. It rises then falls off behind, and I think he’s got some archers crouched down over there, where we can’t see them. I think his plan is to bait us to charge the pass, so the lads flee over the summit. Then we come hard right after them, and as we get to the Fangs, he hits us from the right, and as we wheel to charge, his archers take us from behind.”

  “That’s my thinking, too,” said William. “So if we see him put riders up there on the crest, watching for the mercenaries’ arrival, we know you’re right.”

  Less than an hour later, a pair of riders appeared from out of the line of the woods and took up position at the bottom of the rise. “Well,” said William. “Looks like we’ve found the Bear.”

  “Shall I send the Pathfinders?”

  “Send them up through the trees and have them get up as far as they can, and report back on numbers. I want them back here by midday at the latest.”

  Time passed slowly while they waited, and William gave orders for the men to ready themselves for a fight. He suspected Bear had a larger body of m
en hidden in the woods. William was counting on the absence of the Grey Talon mercenaries to tip the balance in his favor.

  A little before midday the two Pathfinders, Marie and Jackson, returned. “There’s about fifty of them scattered through the woods, sir.”

  “Horse or foot?”

  “Both. Looks like they plan on tempting us by showing us foot, then riding horse over us once we take the bait.”

  William considered and said, “We can’t play his game.” He knew he was outnumbered: his thirty-six men against Bear’s fifty or more. “Take a half-dozen men into the trees,” he ordered the Pathfinders. “No matter what you hear, wait, then when you hear Bear’s men given the order to leave the woods, strike from behind. Don’t linger, but draw off as many of the horsemen as you can.” He pointed to the left side of the pass. “That’s where we hit first.”

  “How do we proceed?” asked Hartag.

  “Thirty of us ride calmly to there” - he pointed to a large boulder near the bottom of the rise - “and then we charge the archers. We take them out as fast as we can, and force Bear to charge us. Either he’s on foot or he’s forced to retreat and mount. If Jackson, Marie, and the others can draw off some of his riders, he’ll be forced to reorganize on the fly. Either he retreats and we keep following, or he charges us piecemeal and gives us the chance we need to finish him.”

  “If he retreats?”

  “We follow and don’t press until it’s to our advantage. As much as I want that murderous dog, our mission is successful if we keep him from his goal.”

  “And that is?” asked the sergeant.

  “Widow’s Peak above Haldon Head.”

  The sergeant glanced around. “By my reckoning, sir, that’s where he’s leading us.”

  William said, “What?”

  Sergeant Hartag said, “Over that rise, to the west, you’ll find a trail that cuts over those peaks and leads down into a woodland just east of Haldon Head. It’s less than two days’ hard ride from here. If we left now, we’d be there at sundown tomorrow.”