Wrath of a Mad God

by Raymond E. Feist

  On their feet were sandals woven from something that looked like reeds. They had black eyes and tiny noses, and their mouths seemed continually set in a round expression of surprise. Each carried a long pole of wood, either a staff, or a sharpened stake.

  Behind them came illuminated beings.

  Miranda could put not other words to them. They were pillars of crystal, or light, or energy, but somehow she recognized instantly they were intelligent beings. They were the source of those wonders around her, she felt sure, for the hint of music in the air appeared to emanate from them, and the soft glow that surrounded them gave the distinctive color to the area. She thought the strange and wonderful aromas in the air probably came from them as well.

  Castdanur turned to Tomas. “Dragon-rider, you must stay here. They cannot abide the touch of your cold metals. Lady, if you would come with me?”

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  She followed, still overcome with wonder.

  When he reached the first of the green beings, Castdanur bowed his head for a moment in greeting and reverence. “These are the Quor, Miranda.” To the first of the Quor he spoke in a language unlike anything she had encountered, very tonal, almost like singing.

  The Quor replied in the same tongue, but his voice was the trilling sound of reed pipes. The Quor bowed his head slightly and Miranda was struck by the notion that he had very little mobility in his neck. Up close, the creature’s skin resembled nothing so much as the skin of a green plant.

  Then Castdanur indicated the pillars of light. “And these are those the Quor serve, the Sven-ga’ri.”

  Miranda could barely speak. There was such a feeling of beauty surrounding these beings of light. “Castdanur,” Miranda said, finding herself whispering, “what are the Sven-ga’ri?”

  Castdanur said, “I don’t know, lady. They are something miraculous that has existed here since the time before memory.”

  “I’ve never heard of either the Quor or the Sven-ga’ri, and I’ve lived on this world for a very long time,” she softly said. “I was around when your father was a boy, and I have never seen their like.”

  “Few have,” said Tomas from a short distance behind.

  Suddenly she was certain of something. “They are not of this world.”

  “No,” said Tomas. “But they are now a part of it.”

  “How can that be?” said Miranda, hardly able to take her eyes from the beauty of the crystal beings. Each of them rose ten or twelve feet into the air, with their lower extremities floating a foot or so above the soil. They were tapered at both the top and bottom, and they had a large bulge in the middle. There was a considerable variation among them, some being taller, others rounder. But all of them had a ruff of crystal or light which extended completely around them. Lights circled around their heads in complex patterns, in different colors for each of them.

  Some had green and gold, others silver and blue, red and white, or other combinations. In all it was quite dazzling.

  Tomas said, “No one knows.” He took a deep breath, as 2 6 5

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  if drinking in the intoxicating quality of the surroundings. “If there is good in this world, Miranda, it is here. These beings are something unique, and I do not know how I know, but I can feel it in my bones that should anything evil befall them, the injury done to this world might be irreparable.”

  “Can they understand me?”

  Castdanur said, “The Quor understand them, but they choose not to, or cannot, use human speech.” He pointed to the Sven-ga’ri. “The Quor speak for them, and to them.”

  Miranda nodded. To Tomas she said, “So this is why you were so adamant about our meeting with the priests and other magicians, and so alarmed by the appearance of the Dread.”

  “Yes,” Tomas said. “That the children of the Dread appear anywhere on this world is cause for the gravest concern, but so close to here, that is alarming.”

  “What would happen—?” Miranda began.

  “They would consume everything here,” said Tomas. “And the world as we know it would change . . . or worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “Castdanur, tell her.”

  “We believe, as did the Valheru, that these beings are tied to the living heart of Midkemia, and should any harm befall them, the heart of the world would be injured, or even die.”

  Suddenly Miranda felt a flood of feelings so profound that tears welled up in her eyes. “What?”

  Castdanur looked at her and said, “The Sven-ga’ri are speaking to you.”

  Tomas said, “Ashen-Shugar and the other Valheru were not given to introspection but these were the only beings besides themselves they respected, perhaps even cared for; at least they never attempted to subjugate them or in any way harm them, which for the Valheru was unique. The Valheru might not have understood these beings, but that did not make them immune from wonder. It was, perhaps, the only time in their existence they knew wonder.” Tomas paused for a moment considering something, then said, “I think the Sven-ga’ri speak with feelings, Miranda.”

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  “Yes,” she said, her eyes wide, brimming with tears, and her voice choked with emotion. “Already, I would lay down my life for them.”

  Castdanur said, “So it is with all who meet them.”

  Tomas said, “We must go.”

  Miranda could barely tear herself away from the warm glow of standing near these amazing beings, but at last she turned and slowly walked away. When they were a short distance off, the feelings of overwhelming love she had encountered began to fade, and when they reached the edge of what she had come to think of as the Glade of the Quor and stepped back into the forest, and the world returned to normal, she took a breath and shook her head, as if to clear it.

  “Do you think this is how they protect themselves?” she asked.

  Castdanur said, “If it were so, then why would they need the Quor, or the Quor need us? The Valheru,” he added, looking at Tomas, “made us guardians for a reason.”

  Tomas shrugged. “My memories of the Dragon Lords are incomplete. But there is some wisdom in what you say. I for one am unwilling to place the fate of this world in the Sven-ga’ri’s hands or take the chance that the Dasati or the Dread would react as we do to their wondrous songs.”

  “I agree,” said Miranda. Before leaving Sorcerer’s Isle she had been almost overwhelmed by despair, but now she felt re-newed and vowed that no harm would befall these strange and wonderful beings, nor any other creature on this world.

  She walked down the trail as the sun set over the western peaks across the bay, feeling reinvigorated with a new sense of purpose. Terrible things were coming, but she would not be cowering in some dark corner waiting for those horrors to seek her out after having destroyed all she loved in this world. She would meet those horrors head-on, defiant and willing to give everything she had to the last moment, to preserve all she loved in this world.

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  Chapter 17

  prelude

  Valko struck hard.

  The Deathknight he faced was practiced and wary and avoided the slash, but he left himself open for a circling move, which Valko finished by impaling him on the point of his sword. He spun quickly to find another opponent and was almost struck by a vicious blow from above. He raised his sword and blocked it then, grabbing the hilt of his sword with both hands, dropped low and cut hard at the back of his second opponent’s legs, causing him to collapse. Valko flipped his sword and plunged it down into his opponent’s throat, then looked up, ready for the next confrontation.

  His side was barely holding their own against the seemingly endless waves of the TeKarana’s Deathknights.

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  How they had finally discovered the stronghold of the Bloodwitch Sisterhood and the virtual leadership of the White was a question that would have to wait; perhaps it had been a traitor, or one of their own lo
yal servants had been tortured into revealing this location, but either way the damage was done. Even if they were victorious for the moment—and the outcome was still in doubt—everyone here would be forced to flee and the leadership of the White would be disrupted for weeks to come.

  Valko signaled for two other Deathknights serving the White to rush to support the fight over on the right-hand side and took a breath while surveying the scene. They were in the large courtyard where he had first entered after breaching the illusion that surrounded the home of the Bloodwitch Sisterhood. The magic-users were embroiled in a confrontation with half a dozen Deathpriests who had been accompanied by the palace Deathknights.

  The red-and-black-armored Deathknights were easy targets for Valko and his silver-clad warriors, but there were too many of them for him to find a tactical advantage. His warriors were more talented and might be able to win through attrition.

  But that faint hope was growing dimmer by the minute, for if the Deathpriests overcame the Bloodwitches any magic turned against Valko’s men would end this struggle quickly.

  Suddenly a howl of madness cut through the sounds of battle and abruptly there was something unimaginable in the midst of the struggle. A being nearly double the height of the tallest warrior in the fray had appeared. There was a mantle of smoke around its shoulders. Its skin seemed to be of a scintillating white-blue crystal material and it radiated a pulsing energy that Valko could feel across the grounds of the compound. It made the hair stand up on his arms and neck, and he could see it having the same effect on combatants on both sides of the battle.

  The creature lashed out with a long, powerful arm, its heavy black nails leaving smoking wounds wherever they struck. The first victim of the attack was one of Valko’s Deathknights, but the second was a Deathpriest who had come too close to the edge of the fray after killing a Bloodwitch, his neck snapped by a crushing grip from the monster’s massive hand.

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  Valko shouted, “Back!”

  He had seen there were more foes close to the monster than his own men, and instantly recognized the opportunity to let the creature do his fighting for him while he ascertained the best way to deal with the monster. He used hand signals to organize the defenders and they moved to the positions he indicated, leaving the palace’s Deathknights to defend themselves from the monster. Valko saw that the Bloodwitch Sisters were being bested by the Deathpriests, so he gestured for four of his fighters to attack the Deathpriests from behind.

  They did as he commanded and he watched.

  Valko had been given neither command nor rank by the Bloodwitch Sisters, but when the onslaught by the forces of the Dark One had begun less than fifteen minutes earlier, he had just naturally taken charge and no one had questioned his instructions.

  He was Lord of the Camareen, and while not the most experienced warrior present, he was the highest-ranking noble. And he proved to have been an adept student of Hirea. He had kept a catastrophe from befalling the Sisterhood, and now it looked as if there might be a chance for them to survive the assault.

  If he could contrive a way to best this monster.

  Retreat never occurred to Valko. It was not in the Dasati nature. You won or you died; it was that simple. But he was not stupid enough to throw away his life or the lives of his warriors needlessly. He saw with satisfaction that the warriors he had sent to attack the Deathpriests had made quick work of them while they were occupied with their arcane battles with the Sisterhood, and now they had gained a slight respite while the remaining palace Deathknights were engaged with the monster. Valko ran to where Audarun stood exhausted, the old Bloodwitch having spent all her energy in the fight with the Deathpriests. “Do you know what this creature is?” he asked.

  “I can only speculate, I have never come across such a thing in life or in lore. I’m not even certain who conjured it here, for it appears to be as much a shock to the Deathpriests as it does to us.”

  Valko signaled his remaining Deathknights to regroup, and in moments, they stood ready to defend the Bloodwitches from 2 7 0

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  the monster. A handful of palace Deathknights were still struggling to find a way to kill the conjured horror, and Valko watched closely, looking for any hint of weakness in the creature. Behind him, half a dozen Bloodwitches were also chanting quietly, some with their eyes closed, trying to sense something of the creature’s nature or power.

  As Audarun began an enchantment, Valko returned his attention to the creature as it was confronted by the last of the palace Deathknights. He wished every one of them dead, but they were dying with courage, and he saluted that.

  Soon there remained a single Deathknight, and he began to retreat, taking the creature farther away from where Valko and the others waited. Valko swore in frustration as some of his companion Deathknights began to laugh at the palace knight’s cowardice. “Enough!” he shouted. “As amusing as it is to see the coward die painfully, we have more important things to think about, such as killing that monstrosity.”

  “I see no weakness in the creature,” said a voice from behind him, and Valko turned to find Luryn standing at his shoulder.

  “You should not be here,” he said. He had found the idea of having a sister difficult at first, but as he had spent time with her he had begun to see her resemblance to their mother and felt a drawing toward her, a sense of connection, which both pleased and troubled him. Sisters were to be sent off to mate with sons of powerful families, and bear them sons, to forge alliances; they were not people you grew to care about.

  So much of what he had been taught as a youth by his mother was now coalescing into a new and troubling perspective. Valko found himself caring about those in the room, so that instead of just wanting to be victorious against the monster, he also wanted to protect his sister and the other Bloodwitches, as well as those Deathknights serving the White. He hated the conflict that came with those feelings when all he should wish to do was to kill whatever stood in his way.

  Then suddenly Martuch, Hirea, another four Deathknights, and two of the humans disguised as Lessers appeared 2 7 1

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  in the courtyard. The human known as Pug moved fast: before the others could react he had already begun to cast a spell. As the monster killed the last palace Deathknight, a canopy of energy formed around it, and it looked back toward Pug as a pattern of crystals appeared on the surface of the canopy. Each crystal emitted a bright yellow line of energy, connecting to another crystal, and abruptly the creature found itself trapped in a latticework of energy.

  It charged and upon contact with the lattice an explosion of smoke and flame erupted from its hand and shoulder. It howled in pain and rage, an echoing sound that once more caused Valko’s hair to stand up on his neck and arms. Mindlessly, the monster lashed out, but each contact with the energy lattice caused it more injury and pain.

  Valko watched with a fascination bordering on revulsion as the frenzy of the monster grew with every passing second.

  Finally it was flailing around inside the trap, its body a mass of smoking, flaming wounds as it continued to throw itself against the latticework in a futile attempt to escape.

  Pug said something to Magnus who stepped forward and incanted another spell. A pulse of force left the palms of his outstretched hands and struck the confined creature. It howled one last time and then exploded in a blinding silver and red flash, its destruction filling the courtyard with a stench of char and decay.

  It had taken less than a minute for the two human magic-users to vanquish the creature. Martuch and Hirea both stood as if stunned: their years of battle-training had done nothing to prepare them for this.

  Valko hurried to where Pug and Magnus waited, both looking exhausted. Pug and Magnus had left Nakor with Bek and hurried back to the rendezvous only to discover they had missed Martuch and Hirea. It was dawn and the city had been frantic; bells were pealing and the call was going
out to muster the societies. All Deathknights and their followers were to be ready to receive orders from the TeKarana on behalf of His Darkness at noon the following day.

  Magnus had used his ability to transport himself without a 2 7 2

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  device to return them to the Grove, where they had arrived just minutes before Martuch and Hirea rode in. A quick discussion resulted in their deciding to find Valko, for the absence of the young Lord of the Camareen would be noticed at the following day’s muster. Pug had had the time to inform the two Deathknights of what he had discovered in the heart of the Dark One’s temple.

  Martuch now surveyed the carnage around the courtyard and said, “Everyone must leave, now.”

  Audarun clapped her hands once, and called out, “Prepare to evacuate.” She looked at Martuch and Valko, then nodded once in agreement. “We have contingency plans. We knew it was likely that the Dark One’s followers or the TeKarana’s agents would discover this sanctuary eventually.”

  Those Bloodwitch Sisters who were uninjured hurried to gather up the essentials they needed, while the five who were too injured to help rested wherever fate had placed them. Martuch inclined his head toward them and Audarun nodded once.

  The old warrior swiftly drew his sword and quickly went from one wounded witch to the next, dispatching them in turn with a clean blow. Each witch closed her eyes and stoically waited for her death.

  “Why?” Pug asked, appalled.

  “The journey is arduous,” said Audarun. “If we left them behind, the Dark One’s priests could extract knowledge from them, despite their devotion. All of us know this risk; all of us accept death willingly rather than become the instrument of betrayal.”

  Hirea said, “Betrayal, yes. Somewhere in the White we have a traitor, for this attack was too coordinated, too well conceived, to be by chance, and it coincides too neatly with the coming invasion of the human realm. The Dark One wishes no enemies at his back when he launches his onslaught into the human world.”