Krondor Tear of the Gods

by Raymond E. Feist

  After a seemingly endless time, his lungs were fit to burst and he had to will each blow as if commanding an unwilling servant; his arms and legs were so reluctant to obey him. Yet the demons continued to press him, and an increasing number of their blows were getting through.

  Still he could see no damage to his armor and no wounds were visible on his body, though he could still feel each talon and fang, feel the searing heat of their touch on his flesh. They bore him back and he felt despair engulf him, but each time he thought it impossible to continue, Talia’s pleading voice would reach him: “William! Save me! William, help me!”

  He raised his arm again, the pain threatening to overwhelm him, and unleashed another blow.

  Slowly the tide turned. A demon fell, and no other appeared. He turned his pain-racked body to attack the next creature about its head and shoulders till it was gone.

  As each creature fell, renewed hope rose up within William and he drove himself onward. Depths of strength he did not realize existed within him were plumbed, and he struck, again and again.

  Then suddenly the last demon was gone. He stumbled, barely able to put one foot before the other. Somehow, he reached the tower of flame trapping Talia. She stood there calmly, smiling at him.

  His parched lips parted and in a voice as dry as sand he said, “Talia?”

  When he reached out to touch the flames, they vanished. The girl he loved hung suspended in the air and her smile was radiant.

  Softly, William said, “We did it, Talia. It’s over.”

  A rumble arose around them and the Rainbow Parrot’s taproom shattered like a mirror, the shards falling away into nothing. They stood facing one another in a featureless black void.

  William reached out to touch Talia, but before his hand could reach her cheek, a voice boomed out: “No, son of conDoin. Though you have freed Talia’s soul from being consumed, your part in this has only begun.”

  Talia looked at William and her lips were motionless, but he could still hear her dying declaration in his mind.

  “I swear by Kahooli I will have my vengeance!”

  The deep voice came again: “I am Kahooli, God of Vengeance, and your dedication calls to me. Because of your dedication I will answer this woman’s dying prayer. You will not be alone in what lies ahead of you.”

  Talia began to fade before his eyes. William reached for her, but his fingers passed through her image, as if through smoke.

  Weeping, he cried, “Talia, please stay!”

  Talia’s eyes also shed tears as she spoke in a voice like a whispering breeze. “Say goodbye to me, please . . .”

  At the last instant before she became insubstantial, William whispered, “Goodbye, my love.”

  Suddenly, his body was racked with agony and his lungs burned as if on fire. He rolled over, retching as water spilled from his lungs. Coughing, he felt strong hands help him to sit upright.

  He blinked and cleared his vision. He was drenched in water, wearing the armor he had worn when facing Bear, not the mystical plate he had worn when facing the demons.

  A face swam before him, slowly coming into focus. A hawk-beaked man with intense eyes regarded him.

  After a moment, William said, “I know you!”

  “Yes, my young friend,” said the man, sitting back on his heels upon the riverbank, watching William. “You are that young officer I met some weeks ago, escorting some dignitary from a foreign land on a hunt, if I recall. My name is Sidi.

  “I saw you floating in the river, and since it is unusual to see a lad swimming in armor, I deduced you were in some need of aid. It appears that I was correct.”

  Glancing around, William asked, “Where am I?”

  “On the banks of the river, obviously.” Pointing downstream, Sidi added, “That ways lies a town called Haldon Head and beyond it, the sea.”

  William looked around again. They were in a stretch of woodlands, and there was little to be seen nearby save trees. “What were you doing here?”

  “I was looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “A murderous butcher, one who goes by the name of Bear.”

  William felt the fuzziness in his head start to clear. “It’s good you didn’t find him, then. I came upon him with thirty Krondorian regulars and he routed us all by himself.”

  “The amulet,” said Sidi. He nodded to himself. At last, he said, “Come, we’ll talk as we walk.”

  “You know of the amulet?” asked William.

  “As I told you when last we met, I am a trader, a trafficker in rare and valuable objects as well as more mundane goods. That amulet is a particularly ancient and valuable artifact. Unfortunately, besides offering the wearer significant power, it also has a tendency to drive him mad. It was intended to be kept in the possession of a magician of great art and intelligence, not a brute like Bear.”

  “How did he come by it?”

  Sidi glanced sidelong at William. “How he got it is immaterial. How we’re going to get it back is the question.”

  “We?”

  “As you observed, if thirty-one young soldiers could not best Bear, how could I, a lone old man, hope to do so?” Then he smiled. “But you and I together . . .” He let the sentence trail off.

  ‘“You will not be alone in what lies ahead of you,’ he said,” William muttered.

  “What?”

  William looked at him. “I think I was told that you would help me.” William glanced down at himself, then over at his companion. “Given I’m without weapons - ”

  “That amulet is just as impervious to weapons as it is to magic, so any attack upon Bear must be by misdirection and stealth. But I have resources, my young friend. Just get me close to Bear and I’ll help you retrieve the amulet. You take him away to justice and I’ll return the bauble to its rightful owner.”

  “I don’t know if I can promise that, sir,” William said. “Everything we recover will have to be sent to Krondor for the Prince’s examination. If you have a claim on the item, and the Prince judges it not to be a threat to his domain, then you may petition for its return.”

  Sidi smiled. “That’s a matter for later consideration. Our first objective is to get it from Bear. Once we have removed him from the picture, then we can discuss the final disposition of the amulet. Come, we must hurry. Time grows short and Bear will almost certainly reach Haldon Head before we do.”

  William shook his head to clear it. There was something he felt he must ask this man, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. But whatever else, he was right about one thing: Bear must be stopped and to do so would require removing the amulet from him.

  Jazhara lowered her staff and held up her hand. A ball of crimson light sprang from her palm and played on the closest skeleton-warrior as if from a lantern. The creature hesitated, then began to tremble.

  Solon held up his warhammer high with one hand, and with the other inscribed a pattern in the air while he cast an incantation. Two of the warriors hesitated, then turned as if to put as much distance as possible between them and the monk.

  There were still six figures approaching.

  Solon charged, lashing out with his warhammer. The first warrior he attacked deftly blocked with his shield. His blow rang out and the cavern echoed with the sound. The battle was joined.

  The skeleton Jazhara had cast a spell upon lay on the floor twitching and shivering. She turned her attention to the rest coming closer. Shifting her staff, she lashed out, but with unexpected speed the skeletal warrior blocked the blow with his shield and slashed at her with a long curved sword. She barely had time to dodge backward. Suddenly she realized that the wall was only a few feet behind her. Getting pinned there would be a trap. So she began to slip to her right, attempting to gain herself as much room in which to maneuver as possible.

  Kendaric tried to be resolute, but as soon as the skeleton-warrior facing him struck out, he fell to the floor and rolled. His foot caught the warrior’s ankle and the creat
ure lost its balance, toppling over. Kendaric lashed out with his boot and it felt as if he had struck iron, but he was rewarded with a cracking sound.

  He rolled to his feet as another warrior slashed down and he barely avoided being decapitated. Trying to run, he slammed into another warrior, knocking it backward. He rebounded off it and again fell to the floor. This time he fell across the back of the legs of the creature facing Solon.

  The skeleton-warrior fell forward and Solon smashed down with his hammer, shattering its skull. The skeleton twitched and was still; then its bones fell apart.

  Kendaric turned and scrambled forward on his knees, over the now-loose bones. Solon looked on in amusement. He said, “You’re an ambulatory disaster disguised as a man, but at least this time you’re causin‘ them more annoyance than us.” He bashed another skeleton-warrior with his warhammer, sending it backward, then reached down and hauled Kendaric to his feet by the collar. “Now, go see if you can trip up another one without getting yourself killed. That’s a good lad.” He gave Kendaric a push and smashed at the shield of the nearest warrior.

  James dueled with another spectral creature and found it no match for his swordsmanship. But the problem was inflicting damage. His rapier would slide off the bones and occasionally nick them, but there was nothing to hit. He was bound to tire eventually, and then the creature would surely injure him.

  James glanced over and saw that Jazhara had successfully gotten herself some distance from the foe she faced, while another creature crept up on her from behind.

  “Look out behind you!” he called to her.

  She turned and ducked as a sword slashed through the air, and, with a deft blow, got her staff between the warrior’s feet. The thing went to the floor literally with a bone-rattling crash.

  James had an idea. “Get them on the floor!” he shouted. “Trip them!”

  Jazhara reversed her staff one more time and tangled the feet of the creature that had first been stalking her, sending it clattering to the floor. James feigned high, then went low. He dove between the creature’s legs, grabbing them one in each hand, then stood up, toppling the creature behind him. Instantly, he turned and leapt into the air, landing on the creature’s skull with all his weight. A shock ran up his legs as if he had jumped upon hard rock, but he heard a satisfying crunch and felt the bones break beneath his boots.

  Kendaric scrambled like a crab, ducking under blows and rolling from side to side. Jazhara followed James’s example and crushed the skull of one warrior with her staff while the second sought to regain its feet.

  James hurried to where Jazhara stood and kicked at the rear of the creature’s legs, and she brought her staff down with a savage blow. James looked around the chamber. “Three down.”

  “Four,” she said, as Solon crushed the skull of another warrior.

  “Let’s work together!” James shouted.

  “How?” Kendaric cried as he ducked under another savage sword-blow, blindly waving his own weapon above his head as if it would somehow dissuade the creature’s attack. He scrambled away from the warrior that was pressing him, right into the path of another. With a terrified squeak of alarm he jumped to his feet, and fell backward into a third, knocking it down before Solon.

  Jazhara tripped another, enabling James to smash its skull, while Solon finished the one that Kendaric had tripped.

  Soon it was quiet, and the only skeletal warriors left were the two still trying to escape from Solon’s magic. Jazhara dispatched them with her crimson flames, and at last they had a chance to catch their breath.

  “My gods!” Kendaric said. “That was too much. What more is there to expect?”

  “Worse,” said James, turning his attention back to the lock. “Almost certainly, there will be worse.” He studied the arrangement of gems, mirrors, and holes, and said, “A moment of quiet, please.”

  He pressed the center of the lock and the light erupted. With deft precision, he moved the gems and mirrors swiftly into place. When the last, a topaz-like gem, threw a yellow light into a yellow hole, they heard a click followed by deep rumbling, and the doors swung wide.

  The area before them was vast, and they could smell sea salt as the scent of water reached them. Moving forward, they saw two immense pools, providing narrow walkways on either side or between the two.

  “We have to go there?” asked Kendaric.

  “You see another route, laddie?” asked Solon.

  James hesitated, then said, “Wait.”

  He took off his pack and unbuckled it, removing the artifact that had got them through the outside door.

  “I think it might be wise to have this handy.”

  They set off down the center walkway and when they reached a point halfway between the doors and a distant wall, two pairs of enormous tentacles rose up from the water on either side of them. Kendaric let out a yelp of terror, but James merely held the artifact high above his head.

  The tentacles stood poised, as if ready to strike. They quivered in anticipation, but they didn’t attack.

  Jazhara whispered, “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t,” James replied. “I guessed.”

  Solon looked over his shoulder as they moved out of striking range of the tentacles, which then slipped back down into the brine. “Good thing, lad. Those would crush us like bugs.”

  James said nothing, leading them deeper into the darkness.

  SEVENTEEN

  Black Pearl

  Kendaric pointed.

  “What is that?”

  Solon whispered, “It looks like a temple, albeit more of a pit of black madness, and unless I’m mistaken these are archives.”

  They were entering another vast chamber, full of floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with rolled parchments and ancient leather-bound tomes. Above them, a series of suspended walkways vanished into the gloom. Light from an occasional torch broke the darkness of the room, while sconces in the wall and torch-brackets on the shelves themselves remained empty. James observed, “If they used it, it would be better lit. Those torches are placed only to help people navigate through this vault.”

  They were warned of someone’s approach by the sound of boots upon stone, and James led them away from the lights, behind some shelves. Peeking between scrolls piled upon the shelves, they saw a small company of goblins hurry by.

  After the goblins had vanished, James said, “Well, now we know those raiders were not just coming down from the mountains.”

  “What are goblins doing here?” asked Kendaric.

  “Establishing a base, I’ll wager,” said Solon. “This temple is huge and must have barracks. The goblins must be there.”

  James waited for a moment, and said, “What I don’t understand is how all the recent troubles in Krondor fit in with this, now?”

  “Maybe they don’t,” observed Jazhara. “From what you told me, there is a connection between this Crawler and his plans to take over the underground in Krondor, and whoever is behind this attempt to steal the Tear of the Gods, but it may be they are partial allies, nothing more.”

  James said, “I wonder if I’ll ever plumb the depths of this mystery.” He looked ahead into the gloom. “Come along,” he whispered.

  They moved cautiously and at one point paused for James to get his bearings. Two lights showed in opposition to one another, at right angles to the path of their march, and James tried to establish his bearings, knowing that what they sought was almost certain to be in the deepest part of the temple, far below the surface of the earth and sea.

  Jazhara read the spine of a text and whispered, “Merciful gods above!”

  “What?” asked Solon.

  Pointing to a tome, she said, “That text is Keshian, but ancient. If I read it correctly, this is a most powerful, black volume on necromancy.”

  James said, “That fits with everything else we’ve seen so far.”

  Kendaric said, “I’m just a poor wrecker. What is it about necromancy that so disturbs the res
t of you priests and magicians?”

  It was Solon who answered. “There is a basic order to the universe, and there are limits to power, or at least there should be. Those who deal in the essences of life and who flout death violate the most fundamental tenets of that order. Or are you too thick to understand that?”

  “I was just asking,” said Kendaric, his voice approaching a whine. He touched the binding and said, “Nice cover.”

  Jazhara said, “It’s human skin.”

  Kendaric pulled his hand away as if he had touched a hot iron.

  “Come on,” said James. They moved deeper into the temple.

  Time passed and they continued to wend their way through the stone halls. Several times they paused while James scouted ahead. They heard others in the vast temple, and at times were forced to hide, but they managed to avoid contact and kept moving.

  An hour after entering the temple, they reached a vast, long hall with a gigantic statue at the far end, a heroic figure seated upon a throne. When they reached the base of the statue, they stared up. It rose two stories into the air above them.

  The figure was apparently human, with broad shoulders and powerful arms as it sat there in a position of repose. Sandaled feet of carved stone poked out from under the hem of a floor-length robe.

  “Look,” said Kendaric. “Look at the face.” The entire face of the statue had been chipped away.

  “Why has it been defaced like that?”

  Jazhara spoke softly. “As a ward against the evil that it represents.”

  “Who is it?” asked Kendaric. “Which god?” Solon put a hand gently upon Kendaric’s shoulder. “You will never know, and for that give thanks.” James motioned for them to continue.

  James stopped and smelled the air. He held up his hand.

  “What?” whispered Kendaric.

  Solon moved forward and whispered, “Can’t you smell it?”