A tentacle reached out, passed effortlessly through the barrier and attempted to grapple with her. She swung down with her blade, which burned with Heaven’s fire, and struck a blow that severed the tentacles. It withdrew, the severed section smoking. Then it vanished in a bright flash. From the other side of the barrier came a hollow sound, a distant chuckle that echoed like wind down a canyon. ‘I am,’ it said softly, yet the words were clear. ‘I am that which was before.’ Again the chuckle. ‘I am that which was left behind.’
Rider knew fear then. She turned to flee, and as she did, the thing shot through the barrier to sweep over her, swallowing her in a darkness that was the antithesis of all she had ever known. It was a void so profound that her last, fleeting thought was despair, for she knew she would never again know the Presence, nor approach the Source. This was her end.
The black shape that had destroyed Rider vanished, leaving a chill wind to blow up the Hall. In time, the feathers of wings on the backs of a host of angels would rustle from that wind. And still they would wait, motionless and patient, though one or two among them might wonder when the call would come.
Rider’s last conscious thought was hearing a loud click, as if tumblers in a lock were falling.
Pug probed further and they all heard the ‘click’ in their minds.
What’s that? Miranda asked.
Nakor said, A trap—
Universes exploded.
Birds took to the sky as they sensed a pulse of energy gathering in the heart of the city. A Pantathian farmer transporting his crops to market noticed a mile away from the city that a massive flock had launched itself skyward. He paused to wonder what could have caused it.
Then his world ended.
The explosion was like nothing before experienced on this world. It was the tearing of the fundamental matter of existence, and the release was so destructive that the entire Pantathian city ceased to exist in the blink of an eye.
A blast of light was released, so bright that had any mortal eye looked at it, that creature would have been rendered blind at a distance of ten miles. A moment after the blast of light, a fireball was preceded by a wave of air moving at the speed of sound, so powerful that trees were knocked flat, animals were instantly killed by the impact, their bodies picked up and hurled for miles.
Then came the heat. Whatever it washed over was instantly turned to cinder.
On the mainland to the north, fishermen working the waters between the south coast of Kesh and the Isle of the Snake Men saw an unnatural flare in the south, climbing into the heavens as if someone had reached up to challenge the gods.
Outward the flames sped, and after two miles the heat dissipated and trees and plants were merely scorched and not set alight. After five miles, animals survived the sudden rise in heat, but saw a monstrous column of flame, dust, smoke, and ash climb into the skies and spread out in a mushroom shape.
From rabbits to eagles, elk to wolves, the animals on the island turned and galloped from the source of this calamity. All knew instinctively that nothing within that blast zone could live, and where once there had been a nation of gentle souls, now only death ruled.
• ENTR’ACTE •
Awakenings
TOMAS SAT UP.
In the early morning hours he felt something rip through the fabric of this world in a way he had not known since he first donned the white-and-gold armour of the Dragon Lord. He looked around and saw that his wife was now awake, looking at him with wide eyes.
‘Beloved,’ she asked softly, ‘what is it?’
He did not have any words for a moment, then at last he said, ‘It’s Pug . . . he’s gone.’
She put her hand on his arm. ‘Gone?’
‘We have always had a bond and now it’s severed.’ He sat motionless a few seconds, then said, ‘And there’s something else.’
‘What?’ she asked as she saw his powerful back outlined in the faint moonlight coming in through the window of their quarters. He was moving to the chest in which he kept his armour. ‘Tomas?’
He opened the chest and stared down at his legacy of Ashen-Shugar, the Valheru whose memories he shared. ‘I feel something.’
‘What?’ she asked again.
Looking at the armour, then at his wife, he said, ‘There is another.’
Draken-Korin slumbered on his ebony throne, the last vestiges of his mortal body stripped away. He stirred and saw that all had been returned as he had ordered it. Every inch of the chamber had been cleaned by his loyal tiger-men, and the torches lit. He stood and instantly those who were in the chamber fell to the floor in abject obeisance, touching their foreheads to the stone.
‘I am hungry!’ he roared. ‘Bring me food. I must gather my strength.’ He tilted his head, as if listening. ‘There is another.’
Tanderae could feel the shift in the energy field of the planet. Something huge had just taken place. Whatever it was, it must be catastrophic to be felt at such a distance.
Then heaven tore open.
The blast knocked him off his feet as a massive pillar of ruby light exploded through the roof of the portal building and a wash of heat rolled over him. If there had been anyone inside the building when that explosion took place they were surely dead.
He got up on unsteady legs as the inhabitants of E’bar left their homes to come outside and stare at the monstrous light. Egun found the Loremaster and said, ‘What happened?’
‘An explosion from the portal building.’
‘Ancestors,’ the captain of the Sentinels whispered. ‘I was looking to find you. The Lord Regent was in there.’
‘No longer,’ said Tanderae. ‘Find who you can of the Meet and ask them to assemble. Questions will be asked and we have no answers. Find the galasmancers and have them look in the portal room if they can do so safely, for we must know what is taking place.’
‘What do you think this is?’ asked the soldier.
‘I fear it is a beacon,’ said the Loremaster.
‘A beacon?’ The captain paused, then asked, ‘For what?’
‘What all beacons are for, Egun. To guide someone here.’
‘Who?’
‘That is what I fear to find out.’
In the wilds of western Kesh sprawls a massive lake, the Dragon Erye. Home to a peaceful people of Isalani descent – fishermen, farmers and hunters – the region has remained unchanged for centuries. A ring of mountains, the Watchmen, surrounds this lake, save for a river coursing north to the sea. In spring when the ice thaws in the peaks and the snows melt, the river floods and farmers rejoice as the farmland along its banks is renewed.
The mountains, the inaccessibility of the lake, the lack of riches have left this area neglected by conquerors, migratory invaders, bandits, or rogues. It may be the single most peaceful region on the entire world of Midkemia.
A potato farmer named Li Shun pushes his small cart along the road at dawn, taking his harvest to market. Winter potatoes are in short supply this year and he anticipates good trading.
Then comes the sound.
He stops. Turning his back on his cart, he moves down the road and as he takes each step, he wills his body to change.
High above the lake, in a meadow full of sheep, two brothers, Tai and Mak, sit near their campfire watching their flock. Their dog perks up his ears, listening. Then the two brothers stand, letting their crooks fall to the ground. They leave the whining dog behind as they move away from their camp, their bodies beginning to change with each step. Their forms flow and take on a much larger appearance.
In a nest high above the meadow, a dragon matriarch lies curled around a clutch of eggs. As is the nature of her kind, she will watch over them until they hatch. She is growing hungry, for she has not eaten in a month, but she has gorged herself on enough food to last for another month until the three eggs stir and then she will hunt on behalf of her hatchlings.
Then she hears the sound. She rises up and spreads her wings, throws back her head and
lends her voice to that sound, amplifying and repeating it.
Around the world, dragons let go the illusion of human form, as hunters in the mountains throw aside their bows, a fisherman at sea lets his small boat sink as he becomes too massive for it to support him; a guard on a caravan leaves camp in the middle of the night and goes into the darkness never to be seen again by his companions.
Around the world dragon voices pick up the sound and repeat it, lending their power to the note.
The time has come.
It is the song they have not heard in the memory of the oldest living dragon in the world, but instinctively they know it.
In the darkness of western Novindus a massive black dragon launches itself into the starry night, the powerful snap of its wings cracking like thunder as it circles and climbs, seeking out a call so ancient it needs no words to know it.
In the noonday sun of Rillanon, on the highest southern peaks of that island, a massive white dragon cries out with emotions so profound it has no name for them; and it leaps into the sky, a massive cloud against the blue to a hunter who happens to look up.
Around the world the call repeats, and dragons in hiding among humans answer, and within minutes, it is echoed and answered and repeated. From distant mountains, and deep caverns, isolated beaches and lonely valleys, dragons rise.
In a vast cavern below an abandoned city, the greatest dragon of all lifts her head and listens. Around her robed figures wait, for this is the time of the nexus, the cusp of all things and now comes days of uncertainty.
Slowly she lowers her bejewelled head and closes her eyes, and her companions turn to guard the now slumbering Oracle of Aal, for she has come to the end of the future. This is when time itself will change, and even the most powerful seer in the history of the universe cannot see what tomorrow will bring.
Acknowledgments
As is always the case, I must begin with thanks to the original mothers and fathers of Midkemia, who generously gave me permission to use their playground; I trust I haven’t abused it too much.
As always to Jonathan Matson, my thanks for being more than a business partner, but a friend of the very best kind, one who puts up with you with humor and affection just because that’s the kind of person he is.
To the brilliant ladies at HarperCollins, on both sides of The Pond, for making me look good.
I would like to take a moment to thank all of you who have written me over the years, to tell me something I wrote made you think, helped you solve a problem, or endure a trial, or gave you comfort. It is my intent only to entertain, but if I somehow move you beyond that point, it is an unexpected blessing and I thank you for letting me know.
Lastly, to my kids who keep me tuned into what is really important in life and make so many things that otherwise would confound me bearable.
Raymond E. Feist
San Diego, CA
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author RAYMOND E. FEIST’s previous novels include the Chaoswar Saga (A Kingdom Besieged), the Demonwar Saga (Rides a Dread Legion and At the Gates of Darkness), the Darkwar Saga (Flight of the Nighthawks, Into a Dark Realm, and Wrath of a Mad God); the Conclave of Shadows (Talon of the Silver Hawk, King of Foxes, and Exile’s Return); the Riftwar Legacy (Krondor: The Betrayal, Krondor: The Assassins, and Krondor: Tear of the Gods); the Serpentwar Saga (Shadow of a Dark Queen, Rise of a Merchant Prince, Rage of a Demon King, and Shards of a Broken Crown); the Riftwar Saga (Magician, Silverthorn, and A Darkness at Sethanon); Faerie Tale; The Prince of the Blood; and The King’s Buccaneer. He lives in San Diego, California.
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Also by Raymond E. Feist
THE CHAOSWAR SAGA
A Kingdom Besieged
THE DEMONWAR SAGA
Rides a Dread Legion
At the Gates of Darkness
THE DARKWAR SAGA
Flight of the Nighthawks
Into a Dark Realm
Wrath of a Mad God
CONCLAVE OF SHADOWS
Talon of the Silver Hawk
King of Foxes
Exile’s Return
LEGENDS OF THE RIFTWAR
Honored Enemy
(with William R. Forstchen)
Murder in LaMut
(with Joel Rosenberg)
Jimmy the Hand
(with S. M. Stirling)
THE RIFTWAR LEGACY
Krondor: The Betrayal
Krondor: The Assassins
Krondor: Tear of the Gods
THE SERPENTWAR SAGA
Shadow of a Dark Queen
Rise of the Merchant Prince
Rage of a Demon King
Shards of a Broken Crown
THE EMPIRE TRILOGY
(with Janny Wurts)
Daughter of Empire
Servant of Empire
Mistress of Empire
KRONDOR’S SONS
Prince of the Blood
The King’s Buccaneer
THE RIFTWAR SAGA
Magician
Silverthorn
A Darkness at Sethanon
OTHER TITLES
Faerie Tale
Credits
Map designed by Ralph M. Askren, D.V.M.
COVER DESIGN BY RICHARD AQUAN
COVER ILLUSTRATION BY STEVE STONE
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A CROWN IMPERILED. Copyright © 2012 by Raymond E. Feist. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Published in Great Britain in 2012 by HarperVoyager, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, London.
FIRST U.S. EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-146841-4
EPub Edition © APRIL 2012 ISBN: 9780062100825
VERSION 10192012
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