Krondor Tear of the Gods

by Raymond E. Feist

  Jazhara’s eyes grew bright with tears and she whispered, “Is there no end to this evil?”

  “Apparently not,” said Solon.

  James moved behind the creature as it spoke. “Pain . . . please.”

  With a quick thrust of his sword, James cut the back of the child-turned-monster’s neck and it slumped to the floor without a sound. His face was set in a mask of fury.

  Jazhara looked at James and said nothing.

  Finally, Solon said, “It was a mercy.”

  “What now?” asked Kendaric.

  Softly, James said, “Burn it. Burn everything.” He hurried to a wall where tomes and scrolls were arrayed. He grabbed the shelf and toppled it. A small brazier rested on the worktable nearest the shelf and he grabbed it. Hurling it, he sent flames and coals into the paper on the floor and the fire spread rapidly.

  “Look over here!” Kendaric said.

  They turned and saw that the wrecker had found another pearl. Unlike the other orb, this one appeared to be translucent, and within it they could see an image of Haldon Head.

  Jazhara said, “This is a powerful scrying device.”

  The image shifted and they could see Widow’s Point and the hut of the old woman, Hilda.

  “Could this have been what was countering my spell?” asked Kendaric.

  “Yes, I think so,” said Jazhara. “This creates a wide field of magic in the area under observation. Not all magic is blunted, but this could have been used specifically to prevent your spell from working until they had you in their control.”

  The flames behind them were spreading. James asked, ‘What do we do with it?“

  Jazhara picked up the large pearl and threw it into the fire. “That should take care of it.”

  “Good,” said James. “We should leave now. Get torches and set fire to anything that burns as we leave.”

  “What if the goblins object?” asked Kendaric.

  Solon, looking resolute despite his wounds, said, “Well, if the escaping prisoners haven’t sorted them out, we’ll just have to do it ourselves, won’t we?”

  James nodded. “Come on. Let’s go raise a ship.”

  They started their return to the surface.

  EIGHTEEN

  Tear of the Gods

  The sun was low in the west as they left the cavern.

  James asked Kendaric, “Can you raise the ship?”

  “Now?” He shook his head. “I can try, but I thought that after all we’ve been through, we’d wait until morning.”

  “Actually, after all we’ve been through, I’m not inclined to wait. Bear is out there somewhere and the faster we can find the Tear and get it back to Krondor, the happier I’ll be.”

  Solon nodded. He was bleeding from several small wounds all over his body. They had encountered a few servants of the dead liche during their escape - a pair of goblins who had put up a struggle, and two more of the skeleton-warriors. They had also come upon the mayhem that had been visited upon other servants of the Black Pearl Temple as they worked their way back to the surface. The escaping prisoners had clearly found weapons in the barracks armory and had been unkind to any who attempted to stop them.

  Jazhara nursed a rough compress she had fashioned to staunch the bleeding in her shoulder. She said, “I fear that if we encounter trouble from here on, we may be outmatched.”

  James motioned to the others to walk out to the end of the rock spire. “We’ve been outmatched every step of the way,” he said. “But we’ve been lucky.”

  “Luck is the result of hard work,” Solon said, “or at least my father told me so.”

  “I’ll still make a large votive offering to Ruthia when I get back to Krondor,” James observed, mentioning the name of the Goddess of Luck, the patron goddess of thieves. He added in a mutter, “Even if she is a fickle bitch at times.”

  Solon overheard this remark and chuckled.

  They reached the end of the rocks, and Kendaric said, “If this works, the ship will rise and a fog will form from here to the hull and it will become solid. It should last long enough for us to get to the ship, offload the Tear and return.”

  “Should?” asked James. “How long is ‘should’?”

  Kendaric smiled and shrugged. “Well, I never had a chance to test it. I am still working on duration. Eventually, the spell will hold a ship on the surface until all the cargo can be offloaded. Now, well, maybe an hour.”

  “Maybe an hour?” James shook his head in disgust. “Well, we can’t start any sooner.”

  Kendaric closed his eyes, and held out his hand to Jazhara, who had carried the spell-scroll in her backpack. She handed it to him and he began reading.

  First the sea around the ship calmed, the combers and breakers seeming to flow around the ship in an ever-widening ring of calm water. Then a fog appeared on the surface and suddenly the mast of the ship began to twitch. Then it shook, and the ship began to rise. First broken spars and tattered sails could be seen, then dripping ropes that dangled from yardarms and limp banners that hung from the flagstaffs. In minutes it was floating upon the surface, bobbing as water flowed from its decks.

  Seaweed clung to the railings and crabs scuttled off the deck to fall back into the sea. The fog around the base of the ship thickened and solidified and after a few moments the ship stopped moving.

  Kendaric turned to Jazhara and James, amazement lighting his face. “It worked!”

  Solon said, “You had doubts?”

  “Well, not really, but you never know . . .”

  James regarded Kendaric with barely-concealed rage. “Try not to think what I would have done to you had we discovered the artifact in the temple had nothing to do with you failing last time. If it had just been ‘the spell doesn’t work’ . . .” He forced himself to calmness. “Let’s get to the ship.”

  Kendaric touched the toe of his boot to the solid fog experimentally, then put his whole weight on it. “A little soft,” he observed.

  Solon stepped past him. “We are wasting time!”

  The others followed the monk as he hurried across the mystic fog toward the ship.

  They reached the side of the ship and found several dangling ropes to climb. James and Kendaric climbed up easily, but the wounded Jazhara and Solon took some time and needed help. When they all had reached the deck they looked around.

  Slime covered the decks and decaying bodies trapped by falling timbers or ropes were already beginning to fill the air with a malodorous reek. The scent of rotting flesh, brackish water, and salt was enough to make Kendaric gag.

  “Where do we go?” asked James.

  “This way,” said Solon, indicating a rear door into the sterncastle, leading down to the lower decks. They held tight to soaking rope handrails as they climbed down slippery wooden steps in the narrow companionway.

  At the bottom of the steps, Jazhara lit a torch, since the interior of the ship was as dark as night. The flickering light threw the scene into stark relief, and shadows danced upon the walls as they walked. The water was slow in draining from the lower decks and the hold, so they found themselves wading through knee-deep brine.

  “That way,” said Solon, pointing to a rear door.

  Halfway across the deck, Kendaric let out a yelp.

  “What?” asked James, drawing his sword.

  “Something brushed against my leg!”

  James let out a long, exasperated breath. “Fish. Fish swim in the ocean.”

  Kendaric looked unconvinced. “There could be a monster lurking down here.”

  James shook his head and said nothing.

  They reached the door and found it jammed shut. James examined it. “Someone broke this lock, but the flow of water must have closed it again, and now it’s totally jammed into place. Better break it off its hinges.”

  Solon used his hammer on the hinges, knocking them loose, and the door exploded outward with a sheet of water. Dead bodies were swept along as the water in the two compartments equalized. Solon lo
oked down at one corpse that floated at his feet. Flesh was rotting off the bones, and signs of fish having feasted on the face were obvious. The eye sockets were empty.

  “Good and faithful servant of Ishap,” Solon said with respect. Then he saw something and reached down. He pulled a large warhammer from the corpse’s belt and declared, “The Warhammer of Luc d’Orbain! It once belonged to an Ishapian saint from Bas-Tyra. It’s a relic treasured by the Temple and awarded as a mark of service to my order’s leader. It’s a magic talisman of great power. Not a bad weapon, either.” He looked down at the corpse again. “That was Brother Michael of Salador.” He shook his head regretfully. “It would be logical that he would personally lead the group protecting the Tear.”

  “Well, bring it along,” said James, “but let’s find the Tear and get off this ship before it goes down again.”

  “That way,” said Solon. He indicated a passageway to a rear cargo hold.

  When they reached the next door, Solon said, “Wait.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out a tiny chain from which hung a small blue gem. The gem glowed faintly. “The Tear of the Gods is near.”

  “What is that?” asked James.

  “A shard from the old Tear. It was given me by the High Priest to help us locate the Tear if it had been removed from the ship.”

  James reached for the door-latch and again Solon said, “Wait!”

  “What is it now?” asked James.

  “There is a ward around the Tear. If Bear or one of his men got too close to the Tear before the ship sank, it may have been triggered.”

  “And this ward does what?” asked James, obviously irritated at hearing this at the last possible minute.

  “The soul of a . . . dragon was captured and confined. It manifests itself and will attack whoever comes close to the Tear if certain rituals are not observed.”

  “You were going to tell us this sooner or later, right?” asked James, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Until we found the Tear there was no reason, Squire. Look, the beast is mindless and will attack any of us if it’s been released.”

  “How can a dragon fit in that cargo hold?” asked Kendaric wonderingly. “They’re really big, right?”

  “It’s not a dragon, but the spirit of one. A ghost, if you will.”

  “Nothing you’re saying is making me any happier, Solon,” James observed. “Why don’t you tell us something good?”

  “I have the ritual to banish the creature and return it to the spirit realm.”

  “That’s good,” said James.

  “But it’ll take time.”

  “And that’s not good,” said James. “Let me guess: the dragon will attack us while you’re trying to banish it.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the ship might sink while we’re fighting the dragon while you’re trying to banish it.”

  Kendaric said, “Yes.”

  James said, “This has not been a good day, and it just keeps getting worse.” Grabbing the door-latch, he said, “So, let’s get this over with.”

  He flung open the door to reveal a room bare of any furnishings save a single table.

  “This is the captain’s cabin,” said James. “He must have turned it over to the temple and slept elsewhere.”

  “And that’s the Tear,” said Solon.

  A single large box, carved with the image of a dragon, sat atop the table. It glowed with a mystic blue light and even James could feel the magic emanating from it.

  A flickering of light around the box was the only warning they had. Suddenly a gust of wind swept through the cabin. An invisible blow struck Kendaric, knocking him off his feet into the ankle-deep water.

  An image formed in the air, a floating dragon made up of faint golden mist. Solon shouted, “Keep it away from me, else I won’t be able to banish it!”

  James waved his sword, attempting to distract the creature, while Jazhara kept her eye on Kendaric to make sure he didn’t drown. Then she raised her staff, holding it high above her head with both hands, and started a spell.

  The dragon turned its attention to James. Its spectral head darted forward. James felt the air pressure build before the creature’s snout, and he rolled his head back with the blow. The punch was still significant. He let out an “oof” of pain while trying to draw the creature away from Solon.

  Glancing at the monk, he saw that he brandished the Hammer of Luc d’Orbain before him, his eyes closed and lips moving furiously in ritual incantations.

  Jazhara finished her casting and a sheet of crimson energy erupted into the air. It flowed across the ceiling of the cabin and then fell upon the dragon, encasing it in a ruby net. The creature thrashed and attempted to attack Jazhara, but it was bound in the netting.

  “How long will that hold?” James asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Jazhara. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “How’s Kendaric?”

  “Unconscious, but he’ll live, I think.”

  The wrecker sat slumped against the bulkhead, chin on chest, as if asleep.

  James said, “Glad to hear it. That thing hits like a mule kicks.”

  They turned toward Solon as his voice rose, obviously nearing the end of his incantation. They watched in amazement as the golden dragon expanded, seeming to stretch the ruby netting to its breaking point. As the final words of Solon’s prayer rang through the cabin, the dragon began to shrink till it was a mere golden pinpoint of light that winked out before their eyes.

  Suddenly the netting was empty and floated down to the water where it vanished.

  “It’s done,” Solon pronounced.

  “Good,” said James. “Now let’s rescue that damn box and get off this ship before things get any worse!”

  Solon nodded, hung the second warhammer on his belt, and gently picked up the box containing the Tear of the Gods. James and Jazhara grabbed Kendaric by the arms and lifted him. He started to rouse as they moved him. “What?” he mumbled.

  “Come on,” said James. “Time to go home.”

  Kendaric said, “Best thing I’ve heard in days.” He took his arms off their shoulders and said, “I can walk.”

  They scrambled up the slippery companionway, Solon having to hand up the box with the Tear in it to James, then reclaiming it when they were on deck. James, Jazhara, and Kendaric went down ropes into the mystic fog and then Solon tossed the box down to James, and followed.

  They hurried along the fog as night fell. Just as they were nearing the rocky point, James said, “Damn.”

  “What?” asked Kendaric.

  “Armed men, on the beach.”

  “The escaped prisoners?” asked Jazhara.

  “I don’t think so,” James answered. “Look!”

  Coming down a path from the hills above they could see a massive figure, a dark silhouette. But from his chest a red glow emanated.

  “Bear!” said James.

  “This fog is starting to weaken,” said Solon, and even as he spoke, James felt his feet sinking a bit.

  They hurried the last dozen yards to the rocks and walked toward the beach. “Do we have any choices?” asked James.

  Solon said, “None. We must fight.”

  From the gloom of the rocks, Bear’s voice boomed: “Your choices are few and my patience grows short. You will give me the Tear, or we will slaughter you.”

  “Why do you seek the Tear?” asked Jazhara. “What use can it be to you?”

  They stopped where the rocks met the sand, and Bear’s men approached, their weapons drawn.

  “Ha!” said the huge man. “Hasn’t the monk told you? The Tear allows us to talk to gods, doesn’t it, Ishapian? And there are other gods besides Ishap!”

  Solon shouted, “You are a fool not to fear the power of Ishap!”

  “I’ve got all I need to take care of you . . . Ishapians!” said Bear, fingering the amulet around his neck. “You can never touch me.” He drew a large sword. “But I can touch you! Now, give
me the Tear!”

  Suddenly from the rocks above him a figure emerged, crouched and leapt. William hurled himself into Bear, knocking the giant man over.

  The surprise of the ambush shocked everyone. The mercenary closest to James turned away toward the commotion, and James took advantage of the opening to pull his sword and plunge it into the man’s back. The man died before he could even turn to face James.

  Solon set the box containing the Tear on the sand and pulled out the Warhammer of Luc d’Orbain, silently mouthing a prayer to Ishap.

  Jazhara lowered her staff, pointed the end of it at a cluster of Bear’s men and let loose a bolt of energy.

  Kendaric drew his sword. “I’ll guard the Tear!” he cried.

  William grappled for a moment with the huge pirate, trying to pull the amulet from his neck. Then Bear reached back with a thundering blow, and clubbed William aside.

  William landed hard on the ground, his armor transmitting the shock through his body, but still he rolled and came to his feet.

  Bear leapt up quickly, and with an evil smile said, “Bravely done, boy. For that alone I’ll kill you quickly.”

  William looked up to the ledge above where Sidi stood watching. “Help me!”

  Sidi shrugged. “I said get the amulet, lad, and I’d help you. Without it, you’re on your own.” He looked contrite.

  Frustration overwhelmed William and he shouted, “Kahooli! You said I’d not be alone!”

  Bear laughed. “Kahooli? You call upon a lesser god!” He held up his amulet, and pointed to where the Tear rested in the sand. “With this amulet I’m invincible. With the Tear in my possession, I’ll have the power of the gods. I will be a god!”

  William again threw back his head. “Kahooli, give me vengeance!”

  A loud keening sound commenced, causing James, Jazhara, and several of the pirates to cover their ears in pain. Even Bear was forced to step away from the source. Only William seemed unaffected by the shrill whine. Then a form appeared between Bear and William, translucent and pale, but recognizable.

  “Talia!” William breathed.