Wrath of a Mad God

by Raymond E. Feist

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  “You, the surviving rulers of the great houses of the Empire, you have our thanks, as well, for understanding how dire our situation is. In these outworlders, we have placed the care of our Empire. It is our edict that you shall obey them as you do us in the conduct of this war. Now, go and marshal your soldiers, for we are in grave peril.

  “For the Empire!”

  “For the Empire!” answered the Tsurani rulers, and no matter what their personal feelings were about taking commands from the new Supreme Commander, they would keep those feelings in check and do as they were ordered.

  “See to your commands, my lords, and be ready to march at once. You are dismissed,” said the General.

  There was a slight intake of breath heard from several leaders, and to a man they looked at the Emperor.

  Alenburga turned to see the Light of Heaven standing, at his throne, his posture erect and calm to all outward appearances, save for a telltale whitening of the knuckles where he gripped hard the edge of one side of the throne. The General realized the severity of his breach of protocol and bowed his head and said,

  “If the Light of Heaven permits?”

  The Emperor was motionless for the briefest of moments, then nodded his approval. “We will assemble here again in one hour by which time I would ask that the latest intelligence we have on the invaders be made ready for our consideration. All warriors in the Empire must be ready to march as soon as possible and all provisions and other logistical support must be made ready with the utmost haste. We must move swiftly and decisively.”

  That order was something the Tsurani lords could understand. As one they bowed, turned, and left the room. Alenburga turned to the other Midkemians. “We need a few minutes to discuss how we’re going to do this. Kaspar, Erik, and General Shavaugn from my staff are, in that order, the chain of command.

  Should anything happen to me, Kaspar will assume command of the armies.” He let out an audible sigh of relief.

  He turned to face the young ruler of the Empire and with genuine apology in his tone said, “Your Majesty, please forgive 2 9 2

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  any future breach of decorum, for we are outlanders, and we need to be about our business. If you’ll permit me?”

  The Emperor said, “We understand. We shall attend and observe and remain silent.”

  Kasper nodded slightly, indicating the General should continue. Between them, they had quickly contrived the title of Supreme Commander to two ends: first to convey in as unambiguous a fashion as possible Alenburga’s position and rank, and secondly to avoid any suspicion that the office of Warlord had been given to a non-Tsurani, an act that could bring more tradition-bound nobles to rebellion, even in the face of an invasion.

  Word of the assault on the Holy City and the destruction of the High Council had only just reached the general population, and news of the invasion was still days away. Alenburga looked around the room and said, “We need an order of battle, and before we can do that, I need to have an understanding of our resources and their deployment.” He looked at his subcom-manders. “What do we know?”

  Kaspar pointed to the map. “The incursion is here, in a small valley about twenty-five miles upriver from the foothills. About ten thousand Tsurani warriors are strung out along two lines of march, here and here.” He pointed at the river and the plains to the east. “If the Dasati break containment and move in strength, they can strike in almost any direction. Their best course, in my opinion, would be to come south and move along this road that follows the river. Once they get south of the gorges and rapids they could then use the river. If they either bring or make boats, that will give them the ability to move swiftly and bring significant supplies with them.”

  Erik said, “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?” asked Alenburga.

  “They’d have to establish another beachhead, somewhere downriver, and that would put them at risk of a severe beating—they may be better individual soldiers but we outnumber them down there right now with more coming fast. Also, if they move along the riverside, they can be flanked and find themselves with the river at their back. I think their best course would be to take 2 9 3

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  the river road, then turn west”—his fingers stabbed at a large area of plains to the west of the river road—“then turn south, coming straight at Silmani from the north. There’s nothing there but farms and pastureland.”

  Alenburga squinted as if visualizing the terrain on the map.

  “I’d try for here,” he said, pointing to a spot northeast of the city of Silmani. “If I read this map right, there are half a dozen fords within a mile each way, and a large forest to the south giving them timber for siege engines. That way they don’t have to worry about which side of the river they are on should we counterattack.”

  Jommy started to fidget and after being ignored for a few more moments cleared his throat. Without looking back, Alenburga said, “Something you care to add, Captain?” The four young men had been given that rank as a way for the Tsurani to accept they were empowered to carry orders on behalf of the generals.

  “No disrespect, General, but aren’t you . . . we, overlooking something?”

  “What would that be?”

  “These Dasati, well, they’re not human, are they?”

  “And your point?” said the General impatiently.

  “Well, our Tsurani friends here, for all their differences, are still human like us, and we can expect them to think largely like us, but these Dasati, well, sir, they’re something else. What if they don’t care about losses in taking a bridgehead or the need for lumber for siege machines, or swimming across the ocean . . . ah, sir?”

  Alenburga stood motionless for a moment, then said,

  “The boy’s right. This is not a human army we face.” He looked at the Emperor. “Majesty, is there any way for your magicians to get us close enough to the front so that we can observe them?”

  “I will request it at once, General,” the Emperor answered.

  Looking from face to face, Alenburga said, “Well, then, let us wait, and while we wait, let’s have something to drink. My head is still pounding like an anvil.”

  Erik grinned, “I know what you mean.”

  Chairs were brought by servants and refreshments appeared swiftly. While they waited for the summoned magicians, 2 9 4

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  the ad hoc military leadership of the Tsurani Empire—foreigners all—started to get to know one another.

  Kaspar pointed. “Look over there!”

  It was the morning after they had taken command of the Tsurani forces, and General Alenburga and his staff were on top of a hill overlooking a widening of the trail above the river Gagajin.

  Alenburga looked to where his second-in-command pointed and saw that a new stream of Dasati Deathknights was joining the fray.

  Miranda, at Kaspar’s left hand, said, “They must have opened another portal within the sphere.”

  The Black Mount now occupied a large portion of the north end of the valley, and rose higher than any of the surrounding hills.

  It was clearly growing in size as Miranda had predicted the night before after arriving from Midkemia. She and a score of Tsurani Great Ones had attempted every type of mystical assault on the structure of the sphere, to no apparent effect. What Miranda had encountered while escaping the first sphere seemed to have proved to be of no benefit in trying to assault this larger sphere. The Deathpriests had—it seemed—learned to counter human magic.

  After a few minutes, Alenburga said, “Damn.”

  “What?” asked Erik.

  “What do you make the rate of casualties to be, von Darkmoor?” asked the Supreme Commander.

  Erik said, “Twenty to one.”

  “Closer to thirty to one,” said Kaspar.

  “The Tsurani are easily the most fearless warriors I have ever seen,” sai
d the old General from Muboya. “I am honored to have been given command over them.” He took a moment and inclined his head in respect to Lord Jeurin of the Anasati, who was barely more than a boy, but ruling lord of one of the most important houses in the Empire. It had been a political decision to place him on the staff, but Kaspar had come to recognize that he was a quick study, and had appointed him as a third aide, along with Tad and Zane.

  The young lord acknowledged his General’s praise of his soldiers.

  Alenburga said, “But I dislike wasting their lives to no good purpose.” He turned to Kaspar. “Take a position south of 2 9 5

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  the hills, where the river empties into the plains. I want you far enough away that the Dasati must charge you, but close enough that you can cut them off if they try to flank you to the southwest or southeast. These Dasati may not be human, but I know what warriors in armor look like; I haven’t seen any cavalry or siege engines yet, so expect an infantry charge.” Miranda and the Great Ones had speculated to the General that the Deathpriests had used some enchantment to keep the Deathknights alive long enough to wreak havoc on the Tsurani, but were either reluctant or unable to use that same magic on the Deathknights’ mounts or machines from the Dasati plane. Miranda had tried to explain why the Dasati needed to stay within the sphere to survive, or needed a magic to adapt them to Kelewan’s atmosphere and energy state, but the General waved away the details once he understood the basic concept: once outside the sphere, the Dasati became overwhelmed by the energy of this level of existence and started to die after a few hours.

  Kaspar nodded. “Unless they come at us mounted on flying rugs, we’ll be ready.”

  ”Now, here’s the tricky part. I need you to come up with a battle plan to slow them down. I want them to take three days to cross territory that should only take one. Can you do that?”

  Kaspar nodded. “I already have an idea.”

  “Good. Get one of these magicians to get you down south and start scouting the terrain.”

  After Kaspar did as he was instructed, Alenburga stood silent for a while, watching the conflict below. He measured each confrontation and watched with stunned admiration the heroism of the Tsurani warriors. He spoke just loudly enough for Erik and Miranda to hear him. “Had I had ten thousand of these valiant men with me, I would have conquered the whole of Novindus. What astonishing bravery.”

  Erik said, “They’ll die to a man to save this world.”

  Lowering his voice even more, Alenburga said, “They can’t.”

  Erik looked at his new commander, a man whom he had quickly come to judge as a man every bit as worthy of friendship as he was obedience, perhaps the best strategic thinker he 2 9 6

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  had ever encountered. So as not to be overheard by those nearby, Erik said, “Why?”

  Turning to look at Miranda, Alenburga asked, “As the Black Mount expands, the Dasati create new portals, yes?”

  She could only nod.

  All the color drained from Erik’s face. “The rate of their attack will only increase . . .” he almost whispered.

  “And while I was never the student of mathematics I should have been as a boy, the area of that sphere increased in more than a simple multiple, correct?” the General asked.

  Again, Miranda nodded. “It is geometric.”

  “So where there may be four gates by the end of today, in a few days there will be eight, then sixteen in a week, or sixty-four in a month?”

  Miranda said, “Instead of dozens of Dasati rushing into this world each minute, there’ll be thousands.”

  Alenburga nodded, as if this confirmed his worst fears. “We need to regroup. Men are dying needlessly down there.” He saw a brilliant flash of light near the edge of the sphere and said, “And not only soldiers. Get the magicians out of there, Miranda.”

  Miranda, not used to military protocol, did not immediately leap to do his bidding but said, “Why? They are doing the most harm to the Dasati.”

  Patiently, the General explained. “True, but when they are tired from killing Deathknights, they become easy prey for the Deathpriests. I’m guessing the Dasati have a great many more Deathpriests to spend than we have magicians. Besides, I have a better use for our magicians than throwing huge balls of fire around.”

  “What?” persisted Miranda, as the General turned and began walking down the hill.

  He turned. “I rarely have to explain myself,” he said, “but you are no soldier, and I need you to be clear about what I propose, so that you can make these Tsurani Great Ones understand. More than anything else, the one advantage we possess is the terrain. I may not know it well, but Lord Jeurin and the other Tsurani field commanders do, and we must use that advantage.

  The second benefit you’re about to gain us is something any field 2 9 7

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  commander would sell his soul for: rapid communications. If the Tsurani magicians don’t find it beneath their dignity, they can rapidly carry commands and intelligence between the battlefield and my headquarters, and we will profit immeasurably. Battle plans and tactics rarely survive the first hour of a fight, and the general who can adapt the quickest, who can order his troops to the best position available fastest, will win the day, even if his forces are outnumbered.”

  “So you think we can defeat the Dasati?” asked Miranda.

  “No. It’s going to be impossible. We’re losing thirty soldiers to each of theirs, and while we have an advantage in the power of the magicians, they are mortal and will fatigue. Eventually enough of them will fall that that seemingly endless flood of Deathpriests will overwhelm whoever’s left. No, all we can do is slow them down, and the more time we gain, the more time you have.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “To get as many people through the rift and off this world as you can. We will fail. Barring some intervention by the gods, we cannot hold this world. We must evacuate.”

  Miranda was silent for a moment, then she said, “I understand. I will get to the Assembly with all haste and begin to prepare a way for us to evacuate as many as we can.”

  “I don’t know where you’re going to put them,” said the old General from Muboya, “but anyone you can’t get through the rifts will die here.”

  As Miranda vanished, Alenburga saw Erik von Darkmoor looking at him quizzically. “What?”

  Erik said, “You’re going to stay, aren’t you?”

  “And you?”

  “I’m a lot older than you, my newfound friend. If anyone should stay to the last, it should be me.”

  Alenburga smiled. “And I, my newfound friend, think it would be impossible to go back to sitting around a table with my lord ruler, listening to political chat and social gossip, knowing I quit this struggle too soon. I have no wish to die, but if I’m going to survive, I’ll be the last one through the rift, and if I die, let it be saving as many lives as I can save.”

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  Erik nodded, smiled, and put his hand on the General’s shoulder. “I wish we could have met sooner.”

  “I wish it as well. I’m tired of Kaspar beating me at chess, and I hear you’re not particularly good at the game.”

  Erik laughed, despite the carnage below. But after a moment, the mirth died as he turned his thoughts to the bloody business ahead.

  Martuch, Hirea, Valko, and Magnus watched as Pug closed his eyes. He said, “I have only done this a few times on my world, and never here, so I do not know how likely I am to succeed.”

  Pug was attempting to use mystic sight to peer above the hidden room in the Grove of Delmat-Ama and see what the sudden eruption of noise was. It sounded as if thousands of people were racing through the orchard above, making far more noise than had been heard even during the height of the Great Culling.

  Pug’s vision rose through the darkness that was the solid soil beneath the Grove, and suddenly he could see. He had never b
een rigorous in practicing this particular spell and wasn’t especially gifted at it. But within a moment he had no doubt as to what was occurring up there.

  He opened his eyes. “They’re killing everyone.”

  “Who?” asked Martuch.

  “Everyone,” Pug repeated. “The TeKarana’s legion is herding everyone toward the Black Temple. It’s as if they’re beating the brush to drive vermin from a field or herding game animals toward hunters.”

  Martuch and Hirea looked at one another, then Hirea said,

  “Never in the history of our people has there been anything like this . . .” He shook his head. “We must do something.”

  Pug sat back, tired from his exertions. “We must wait a little longer, I think.”

  “Why?” asked Martuch. He stood up, obviously ready to climb the ladder and see for himself what was going on.

  “If you were conducting such a massive operation,” said Pug, his tone revealing his impatience at having to explain, “and you knew that some of the Lessers you sought out were very adept at hiding, what would you do?”

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  Hirea looked at Martuch and even to Pug and Magnus his expression was easy to read. “You’d leave behind Deathknights to follow after at some long interval to catch those coming up for air, you fool.”

  Martuch looked as if he might draw his sword and turn on his old companion, but after a moment of silent inward struggle he let his hand slip from the hilt of his weapon and then he sat down in his chair, frustration on his face. “This is obscene,” he said softly.

  Hirea agreed. “This is why we do what we must.”

  “What do you suggest?” asked Martuch of Pug.

  “We wait. We will soon hear the second wave of those driving the stragglers before them, I am certain.”

  “What then?”

  “We find Valko and the others, then see if there’s any remote possibility we can locate Nakor and Bek. But we will indeed have to move soon, for the Dark One has made his commitment; he’s using tens of thousands of lives to expand his invasion of Kelewan, and I am certain he will use every life on this world if he must to take it.”