Krondor Tear of the Gods

by Raymond E. Feist

  The girl smiled and said, “You are not alone, William.”

  She moved toward William and stepped into his body. He glowed with the light of the apparition and his armor seemed to flow and shift over him.

  Before everyone’s astonished eyes, William was transformed. He grew in stature so that his already-broad shoulders became even more massive. The armor darkened from the silver chain of a Krondorian officer to a blood-red plate so dark it bordered on black. A helm appeared over his head, hiding all his features, and the eye-slits glowed with a crimson light. A voice that was neither William’s nor Talia’s, spoke: “I am Kahooli. I am the God of Vengeance.”

  The figure raised its hand and a sword of flames appeared. With a blindingly quick blow, the blade cut across Bear’s arm.

  Bear flinched and retreated, his good eye wide with astonishment. “I’m bleeding! I can feel pain!”

  He pulled out his sword and struck at the figure in red, and shock ran up his arm as the incarnation of the god took the blow. Then Kahooli’s avatar slashed out and Bear looked down to see a wide bleeding cut on his chest. Staggering backward, Bear cried, “No, this cannot be!”

  Bear swung again, but one more time the spirit of the God of Vengeance, manifested in William’s body, took the blow and turned it. Then with a straight thrust, it ran its sword up to the hilt in Bear’s stomach.

  Bear sank to his knees, clutching the flaming blade. “No,” he said in disbelief. “You said this couldn’t happen. I can’t die. You promised me! You said I’d never die!” He fell over on the sand, his one eye staring at the night sky. “You said . . . I couldn’t. . . die . . .”

  The figure stood above him for a moment, looking down, then it shimmered and transformed itself back into the shape of William.

  The young warrior staggered, as if suddenly weak. He dropped to his knees and looked around. The shade of Talia appeared once more. Softly he said to her, “We did it, Talia. It’s over.”

  The spirit of the young girl smiled at him. “And now I may rest. Thank you, William.”

  William’s cheeks were wet with his tears. “Talia, no! Please stay.

  As she faded from sight, Talia’s spirit whispered, “No, William. Life is for the living. You have a long life ahead of you and I must take my new place upon the wheel. Say good-bye to me, please.”

  Just before she vanished, for the briefest instant, she seemed to shine with a bright light. She reached out and her hand touched William’s cheek. Then she faded from view.

  Tears running down his face, William said softly, “Goodbye, Talia.”

  James looked around and saw that Bear’s remaining men had fled. He put up his sword and saw that Solon had safely gathered up the Tear.

  James and Jazhara moved to where the still-kneeling warrior rested. James said, “Well done, Will. She is avenged.”

  Jazhara placed her hand gently on William’s shoulder. “And the Tear is safe.”

  William said, “So it is true what he said about the Tear?”

  “And more,” said Solon. “The Tear commands great power, and you’ve seen to it that its power will not be used for evil.” He held tightly to the case containing the Tear. “However, this was only a minor skirmish. The war is not yet won.”

  Jazhara said, “What of Bear’s amulet?”

  “It’s too powerful an artifact to leave here,” said Kendaric.

  James used his sword to pick it up. “I wouldn’t touch this for any price,” he said. “It seems to bring out the vicious side of a man’s nature.”

  He walked back to the point of the rocks overlooking the sea and reached back. Using the sword for leverage, he hurled the amulet as far out into the water as he could. In the gloom they didn’t see it strike the waves.

  He walked back to where his companions waited. “If the fates are kind, there’s a column of soldiers up in Haldon Head and we’ll have an escort back to Krondor.”

  Battered and bruised, they limped up the path toward Haldon Head.

  Dawn arrived with rose- and golden-tinged clouds in the eastern sky as Jazhara walked through the woods to Hilda’s hut. She reached the clearing and as she caught sight of the building, she felt a stab of concern.

  The hut was deserted. She could tell even at that distance, for not only did no sign of a fire or light come from within, but the door hung open. And the plants and herbs hanging from the porch roof were missing.

  Slowly she climbed the step to the porch and entered the hut. Inside, the single table and stool were all that remained. The chest and other personal belongings were gone.

  On the table rested a single piece of parchment.

  Jazhara picked it up.

  Girl, it read,

  My time is done. I was placed here to keep watch over evil until such time as someone came to rid this place of it. You are brave and resourceful young people. The future is yours. Serve the forces of good.

  Hilda

  “She’s gone,” Jazhara said to the person who had quietly mounted the porch after her.

  William stepped into the hut. “Who was she?”

  “A witch, they say,” replied Jazhara.

  “You don’t believe that,” said William. Raised on Stardock, he knew as well as she the prejudices toward women who practiced magic in the Kingdom. “Who was she really?”

  “A wise woman,” answered Jazhara, folding the note and putting it in her belt. “A servant of good. She’s gone now.”

  “Did she say where?”

  “No,” said the young magician. She glanced around, then looked at William. “Why did you follow me?”

  “I wanted to talk before we were surrounded by others, on the long trip back to Krondor.”

  Jazhara said, “We can talk while we return.”

  William stepped aside as she moved through the door, then fell into step beside her on the path back to Haldon Head. After a few steps, Jazhara said, “Talk. I’m listening.”

  William let out a deep breath. “This is awkward.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “I said some things - ”

  She stopped and touched his arm. “We both said some things. You were young . . . we both were young. But that. . . misunderstanding, that’s in the past.”

  “Then we are all right with each other?”

  Jazhara nodded. “We are all right.”

  William started walking again. “Good. I’ve lost . . . someone I cared about, and . . . I didn’t want to lose another friend.”

  Jazhara said, “You’ll never lose me, William.” She was silent for a while. “I’m sorry about your loss. I know Talia was special to you.”

  William glanced at Jazhara. “She was. As are you.”

  Jazhara smiled. “And as you are to me.”

  “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the years to come. I just didn’t want it to remain difficult.”

  “Me neither.”

  They continued on in silence the rest of the way, content to have begun healing the rift between them.

  The return journey to Krondor went without incident. The relief column from Miller’s Rest was in Haldon Head waiting for them when they reached the summit. It escorted the four of them back to Krondor.

  Without ceremony they rode through the city four days later and into the marshaling yard of the palace. Grooms and lackeys took charge of mounts and James, Jazhara, Solon, Kendaric, and William were directed straight to the Prince’s private reception quarters.

  A horseman had been dispatched as they had approached the city, and the Prince had alerted the High Priest of the Temple of Ishap, who now waited with the Prince for the weary party.

  James led the way, with Solon at his side, holding tightly the case containing the Tear. Kendaric, William, and Jazhara entered behind them.

  James bowed. “Sire, with great pleasure I report we have achieved our goals. Brother Solon holds the Tear of the Gods.”

  Solon looked at the High Priest, who stepped forward and
opened the box the monk held. Within the box rested a large pale blue crystal, the size of a large man’s forearm. It seemed to glow with an inner light and as they beheld it, a faint tone, as if distant music filled the air, could be heard.

  “Few not of our order have ever seen the Tear of the Gods, Highness,” said the High Priest. “All here are more than worthy of the honor.”

  They stood transfixed for a while, then the High Priest closed the box. “We leave at dawn to transport the Tear to our mother temple in Rillanon,” said the High Priest. “Brother Solon will personally oversee the transport.”

  “If you don’t mind,” said Prince Arutha, “I’ll just happen to have a full company of lancers riding along behind.”

  Bowing slightly, the High Priest indicated that he had no objection.

  To Solon, Arutha said, “You serve your god well.”

  The High Priest added, “He is our good and faithful servant. He shall be elevated to replace Michael of Salador. Solon, we entrust to you the leadership of the Brothers of Ishap’s Hammer, and entrust to you the safekeeping of the Hammer of Luc d’Orbain.”

  “I am honored, Father,” said the monk.

  To the others in the room, the High Priest said, “Your bravery, and the strength of your spirit, have restored to us that which is the cornerstone of our faith. The Temple of Ishap owes you all its eternal gratitude.”

  Arutha said, “As does the court of Krondor to you, Brother Solon.” Looking at William, he added, “You’ve acquitted yourself admirably, Lieutenant. You’re an honor to the Household Guard.”

  William bowed.

  “Guildsman Kendaric,” said Arutha.

  The wrecker stepped forward and bowed. “Highness.”

  “You’ve done the Crown a great service. We are in your debt. We understand that with the death of your master, the Guild is currently in disarray. As it is a patent guild, dependent upon the Crown’s favor, it is our desire that you assume the rank of Guild Master and restore your fellowship.”

  “Your Highness,” said Kendaric. “I am honored, but the Guild is in ruin. Jorath’s embezzlement left us without a copper, the other journeymen who’ve left . . .”

  “We shall attend to those details. The Crown is not ungenerous to those who serve us. We shall restore your treasury and ensure you recover.”

  “Your Highness is most generous,” said the new Guild Master.

  Then Arutha said, “Lady Jazhara. You have proven my choice of court magician a wise one.”

  Jazhara inclined her head and said, “Highness.”

  The Prince of Krondor rarely smiled, but this time his expression was almost expansive. With pride in his eyes, he said, “James, as always you are a good and faithful servant. You have my personal thanks.” He stood, and said, “You’ve all done well.”

  James spoke on behalf of the others. “Our duty and our pleasure, sire.”

  “I have asked that a celebration in your honor be readied for tonight,” Arutha said. “Retire to your quarters and return this evening as my guests.”

  He departed the throne room, motioning for James to follow him.

  Jazhara turned to Solon and said, “Will you join us?”

  “Nay, lass,” said the large monk from Dorgin. “As head of my order I must ensure the safety of the Tear until we reach Rillanon. It will not leave my sight until then. Fare you well, all of you.” He motioned for two monks who had stood silently in the corner to approach. They turned and bowed respectfully to the High Priest. The two monks fell in behind the High Priest and Brother Solon and left the room with the Tear.

  William asked Kendaric, “What now?”

  Kendaric said, “I will go to Morraine and bring her with me tonight. As Guild Master I will earn enough to satisfy even her family. We shall be wed as soon as we can.”

  Jazhara said, “I am happy to hear that.”

  Kendaric nodded enthusiastically. “I must hurry off. I’ll see you both later.”

  William said, “May I escort you back to your quarters, lady?”

  “No need,” said Jazhara. “I have to learn to find my way around this place sooner or later. If I get lost I’ll just ask a page for directions.”

  William knew she knew the way. He smiled. “Until tonight.”

  As he started to leave, she said, “William?”

  “Yes, Jazhara?”

  She stepped forward and lightly kissed his cheek. “It is good to be here with you again.”

  He looked into her dark brown eyes and for a moment he was speechless. Then he returned the kiss and said, “Yes, it is good.”

  They parted and went their separate ways.

  Arutha sat behind his desk. “You can give me a full report tomorrow,” he said to James. “You look like you could use some rest before this evening’s festivities.”

  “Well, four days’ riding was hardly restful, but most of the bruises and cuts are healing.”

  “The Tear is safe, which is the main thing. What else did you discover?”

  James said, “Of the Crawler, nothing. I think the man was one of several agents of a man called Sidi.”

  William had told James all he knew of Sidi, both at the time of the attack on the Duke of Olasko, and during this latest encounter. James recounted what William had said to him, finishing with, “He seems to be a trader of some sort, a renegade, dealing with the goblins and those north of the mountains as well as those in more legitimate commerce. At least that’s what he appears to be.”

  “You suspect more?”

  “Much more. He just knew too much and . . .” James paused. “I caught but a glimpse of him on the cliffs above the beach while William fought with the pirate, Bear. He makes my skin itch, Highness. I think he’s much more than a mere trader.”

  “A magician or a priest?”

  “Possibly. Certainly he was desperate to get back the amulet that Bear wore, and I suspect he gave it to Bear in the first place.”

  “What dark agency do we face?” asked Arutha.

  James said, “That question, Highness, plagues me as well.” Arutha was silent as he rose from his desk and crossed to the window overlooking the marshaling yard below. Soldiers were at drill, and he saw young William hurrying to the bachelor officers’ barracks. “William did well,” said the prince.

  “He’ll be Knight-Marshal of Krondor some day,” said James, “if you ever decide to let Gardan retire.”

  The prince turned and faced him with what could only be called a grin, an expression James had not seen from Arutha more than a few times in the ten years and more during which he’d served him. “He told me the next time he’s just going to walk out, and take ship to Crydee. Then let me send soldiers to fetch him back.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Let him serve a bit longer, then recall Locklear and give him the position.”

  “Locklear, Knight-Marshal?”

  “You yourself have told me that as long as I run the army I should use an administrator. Locklear certainly has the knack for that job.”

  “Indeed,” agreed James. “Never had much use for accounts, myself.”

  “I’m going to let him sit for one more winter with Baron Moyet, then I’ll fetch him back and send Gardan home.”

  “For real this time?”

  Arutha laughed. “Yes, I’ll let him return to Crydee and sit on Martin’s dock fishing, if that’s what he really desires.”

  James stood. “I have a few things I need to do before tonight, Highness. With your leave?”

  Arutha waved James from the room. “Until tonight.”

  James said, “Highness,” and showed himself out of the room.

  Arutha, Prince of Krondor and second most powerful man in the Kingdom of the Isles, stood at his window in a reflective mood. A young man when he had taken command at the Siege of Crydee during the Riftwar, he was now middle-aged.

  He had many years before him, if the gods were kind, but he felt a calm reassurance knowing that the fate
of his kingdom rested in the competent hands of younger men and women, men and women like James, Jazhara, and William. He allowed himself the luxury of one more peaceful moment, then returned to his desk and the reports that begged for his attention.

  James hurried through the palace. He needed to send word to Jonathan Means, and two of his other agents, to let them know that he was back in Krondor. Then he needed to duck into the streets for a quick visit to one of his informants who was keeping an eye out for signs of activity by the Crawler and his gang. Now that the matter of the Tear of the Gods was settled, James was determined to turn his attention to this would-be crime lord and find out once and for all who he was. Then he would rid the city of his presence.

  James counted down the things he needed to do. If he hurried, he would just have time to return for a bath and change of clothing before the Prince’s celebration.

  He was tired, but there would be time to sleep tomorrow. At this moment he was doing what he wanted to do more than anything: serving his Prince. And he was where he wanted to be more than anywhere in the world: Krondor.

  EPILOGUE

  Challenge

  The solitary figure dripped water as it slogged along the dark corridor of the long tunnel. The air reeked of smoke and dead bodies.

  Sidi found that the small fire he had started that morning was still burning. He fetched a torch from a wall-sconce. Lighting it, he continued his journey.

  Finally, he reached the room in which the dead liche lay, its body quickly turning to dust. “Idiot!” he shouted again at the unhearing form.

  He moved behind the throne and found the secret latch. He tripped it and a section of wall moved aside. He entered a room even the liche hadn’t known of, one Sidi used exclusively for himself.

  As he entered, a voice said, “You’ve lost.”

  “No, I haven’t, old woman!” he shouted to the voice in the air. He stripped off his dripping tunic.

  “You didn’t find the amulet.” There was mockery in her voice.

  “I’ll keep looking. It’s only been four days.”

  “Even if you find it, what will you do? You have no servants or allies.”