Wrath of a Mad God

by Raymond E. Feist

  “Forward!” she cried, and signaled them to move on.

  In formation, thirty-seven magic-users of enormous power swept down to a position high above the invading Dasati, and from there began to rain death on the invaders.

  Jommy turned to Tad and Zane as Servan raced back from the battle to join them. “Look at that!” he shouted. In the distance, 3 0 9

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  above and behind the battle, was a great display of lights and energies, towers of flame and pillars of smoke rising up, almost blinding the onlookers.

  Tad grinned at his companions. “Don’t get Miranda mad.”

  “Come on,” said Zane, pointing to the command position.

  “We need to get back.”

  The four youngsters, together for the first time in months, were enjoying their new role as leaders of men while still testing their capabilities. Jommy was by far the most confident, being the eldest and most experienced, but right now they were inexperienced youngsters being given a huge amount of responsibility.

  The Tsurani command structure was in tatters, as every ruling lord save a handful had been obliterated by the Dasati raid on the High Council. Those left alive were in key positions around the Empire, but at this particular battle no seasoned veteran leader was present. Worse, most of the houses of the Empire had lost their First Advisors, Force Commanders, Force Leaders, and others in the dead lords’ retinues who would have been valuable assets in this struggle.

  Now tens of thousands of Tsurani soldiers awaited commands from foreigners, relayed by other foreigners, to inexperienced leaders, aided by soldiers roughly of the rank of corporal or minor sergeant in Midkemian terms. The few Strike Leaders and Force Leaders who were still alive had been placed in critical positions and were desperately trying to coordinate those soldiers under their command.

  “So far it seems to be working,” said Zane, pointing to where the Dasati were being drawn into a tighter group.

  The four rode back to the command position, in time to hear General Alenburga shout, “Archers! Pick your targets!”

  The word was relayed, and the Lashiki archers—the finest in the Empire—shot high into the air so that the arrows fell straight down into the middle of the Dasatis’ congested position. They were helpless to defend themselves against such an attack.

  Jommy drew up his mount, jumped down, and tossed the reins to a lackey. Rushing to where the general staff was arrayed, 3 1 0

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  he saluted the officers and said, “Orders have been relayed, General. They await your signal.”

  “Not yet,” said the crafty old soldier from Novindus.

  Kaspar looked from Erik to Alenburga and saw in their expressions the same murderous satisfaction he felt at trapping a large force of Dasati and destroying them, without incurring worse casualties.

  More and more arrows rained down on the center of the Dasati formation and Erik said, “I find it impossible to believe they don’t have shields.”

  “I don’t begin to guess how these creatures think,” answered Alenburga. “All their swords look like hand-and-a-half. Maybe they’ve become so tradition-bound, variation isn’t encouraged, or even allowed.”

  Kaspar said, “If the vision I had is real—and so far nothing shows me it wasn’t—they are a strange and twisted people who gave up innovation centuries ago.”

  “Or maybe they just think they’re invincible?” suggested Erik.

  In the distance they could see the flying magicians were continuously pounding away at the contained force of Dasati hemmed in along the river above the plain.

  Kaspar’s laugh was a bitter sound. “Another hour of magic raining down from above and they’ll lose that vanity.”

  “Perhaps,” said Alenburga, “but what I want to know is where are their Deathpriests and why aren’t they answering the magicians’ attack?”

  Miranda was tiring but she was still energized by her chance to lash out at the enemy. Not since the war against the Emerald Queen’s army had she felt this outraged or so focused in her anger. Down there were those who had put her husband and her eldest son at risk, captured her and subjected her to insult and indignity; she was more than happy to be the architect of their chastisement.

  But she found that focus was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing moment, as fatigue began to rob her of much-needed energy. She took a moment to glance first to one 3 1 1

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  side, then the other, and saw that some of her fellow magicians were also beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

  Gathering as much energy as she could muster, Miranda cast down a huge ball of crimson energy. This served two purposes. Firstly, it was causing serious harm to a large number of Dasati now held up in the river pass, with their way downward stalled by the immobile forces in front of them, and their way back to the Black Mount jammed by those following behind.

  And secondly, it signaled to Alenburga that it was time to unleash the cavalry.

  The massive red flash was also seen by the Lord of the Tolkadeska, a sixteen-year-old lad who had never been in a serious fight in his life, let alone a battle. He tried to keep his voice from breaking as he raised his sword and shouted, “Forward!”

  A thousand horsemen hidden in an arroyo west of and just to the rear of where the Dasati line of march had been severed moved out in orderly fashion. The boy leading them might be without experience, but the riders of the four horses that followed him were not. They were veteran horsemen all. Horses had come to Kelewan during the Riftwar, Kingdom mounts taken as prizes. Kasumi of the Shinzawai had been the first noble to understand the value of cavalry and House Shinzawai had been the first to breed horses on Kelewan.

  Like Kasumi, many Tsurani nobles quickly became mad for horses across the Empire, and in the decades since then, more horses had come through the rift from Midkemia via trading.

  Now the Tsurani prided themselves on having light cavalry the equal of any on Midkemia, including the legendary Ashunta horsemen of the Empire of Great Kesh.

  Every rider was as anxious to answer this insult to their nation’s sovereignty as those on foot. They were eager to join the battle and drive out the invaders. As the first thousand moved out, two other companies took up position, ready to reinforce when ordered.

  Young Lord Harumi of the Tolkadeska made a prayer to Chochocan, the Good God, asking not to shame his ancestors by failing in his mission. He raised his sword and shouted, “Charge!”

  and none of those nearby noticed that his voice broke.

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  Hooves slammed the soil like thousands of hammers at a forge, and the ground shook. Dasati Deathknights on their right flank felt the vibration before they could hear the sound because of the havoc raining down from above as the magicians in the air kept throwing every evil spell of destruction they could conjure at them.

  The Tsurani cavalry slammed into the left flank of the Dasati, turning a slow retreat into a roiling mass of confusion. On foot each Dasati was the match of dozens of Tsurani, but when they were confronted by cavalry, the odds of their attackers were significantly improved. Dasati Deathknights were bowled over and sent flying into the mass of their own forces retreating up the trail.

  The fury of the onslaught drove dozens of Deathknights off the trail and down the steep embankment, landing many in the river, where they were pulled under by the weight of their armor.

  Lord Harumi of the Tolkadeska lashed out with his sword and was easily blocked by an experienced Deathknight, who then quickly reached up and grabbed his leg, pulling him from the saddle. Slammed hard to the ground, the young ruler of his house didn’t have time to raise his sword in defense as the Deathknight drove the point of his sword through the traditional laminated hide armor of a Tsurani ruler, ending a line of Tolkadeska lords going back over a thousand years. Those around him took note that the boy brought no shame to his lineage, and when he died, hi
s voice didn’t break.

  Alenburga said, “Good. They’re retreating.” He turned to Zane.

  “Ride to the front and remind our eager Tsurani captains that they are not to enter the last valley at the river’s head—if they get that far.” As Zane saluted and turned to run to his horse, the old general added, “And try not to get killed.”

  “Sir!” Zane snapped a salute as he left the makeshift command post.

  Erik said, “That went well.”

  “Yes,” said Kaspar. “But it was just one battle.”

  “And unless the Dasati are total idiots,” added Alenburga,

  “they won’t let themselves be drawn into a cluster like that again.

  I won’t guess how they think, but if I was their commander, I’d 3 1 3

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  be plotting how to get my own cavalry into the fight.” He let out a sigh. “It’s been a long day.” As the sun lowered in the west, he asked, “Do we know if they fight at night?”

  “We have no intelligence on that,” answered Kaspar.

  “Your young Jommy is right. We cannot make assumptions about how these creatures think and act.” Alenburga turned to those officers waiting behind the three senior leaders of the Empire’s army and said, “I want the field cleared of the wounded as quickly as possible, and I want defensive positions erected even faster. We will act as if we know another attack is coming after sundown.”

  Another attack came after sundown.

  In the vast tunnel, Pug held up his hand and they waited, listening.

  He had given himself the responsibility of moving ahead of the vanguard as an advance scout, because he was, except for Magnus, the most powerful single being in this invasion force. Magnus had been stationed next to Valko and told to protect him at all costs.

  There had been a constant background sound as they entered the tunnel, and it had got increasingly loud as they passed near tunnels that Martuch said led from the palace complex to the Black Temple, in a rough latticework fashion. It was hard to put a name to the sound, but it caused Pug’s skin to crawl.

  Pug motioned for the force behind him to move along, and over a thousand Deathknights loyal to the White came forward, moving with deliberate haste. No one knew for certain exactly how long the palace guards would be occupied with the slaughter of the city’s vast population, but this attack had to be conducted before any significant number of them returned from this mission of death.

  Pug detected movement ahead, and felt his pulse race as he anticipated, at long last, a direct confrontation with the Deathpriests who protected the TeKarana. While preparing for this raid, Pug had asked Valko and the others for as much information as they could provide about what they might encounter.

  It proved to be sketchy at best. Little was known beyond this old, abandoned subbasement complex attached to the closest access to the TeKarana’s private complex within the Great Palace.

  The TeKarana was served by a thousand dedicated Talnoy—Pug 3 1 4

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  didn’t feel the need to share his knowledge of the real Talnoy still hidden on Midkemia, or that these were merely men in armor that looked like the ancient captured gods of the Dasati. He lived in a community almost completely isolated from the rest of the beings on this planet. He had his own staff who were separate from the larger palace staff of Effectors, Facilitators, Interlocu-tors, and other minor Lessers, and a harem of females chosen from the better houses in the Empire. There had never been any record of his acknowledging a son. Moreover, it was unclear when this TeKarana had taken over from his predecessor and how. Rumors abounded, but no one knew the truth of it. It was suspected that one of the planetary Karanas would be selected to replace the ultimate leader when it was time, but no one outside the innermost society of rulers on this world knew exactly how the system worked.

  Pug reached what appeared to be a dead end, a blank wall of the ubiquitous black-grey stone used as the primary building material in the Empire. He motioned for Valko to approach and said, “Is there a way in or do I have to break it down?”

  Valko seemed impressed, for the first time since meeting Pug. “You can break this down?”

  “Not quietly.”

  Valko actually smiled, the first time Pug had seen him do so.

  “No, there is a way.”

  Martuch and Hirea came forward and the three of them spread out and placed their hands on the wall, feeling for something that Pug could not see, no matter what aspect of his magic-enhanced sight he used. After a few minutes, Hirea reached low and triggered a mechanism. There was a deep but surprisingly soft rumble and the massive wall rolled into a pocket on the right, revealing another passage leading up.

  “This way,” Valko said, and Pug and Magnus entered the passageway, toward the palace.

  Nakor held Bek back. Bek was dressed in the strangely disturbing armor of the Talnoy, a look very familiar to Nakor from the time he had examined ten thousand of the things hidden in a vast 3 1 5

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  cavern on Midkemia, an experience bordering on the mystical.

  But there was nothing remotely mystic about these Talnoy, for each was simply a fanatic, loyal to the TeKarana, wearing ancient armor. The red-trimmed black armor of the palace guards was far less ornate than the gold-trimmed monstrosity now worn by Bek, and both were far gaudier than the real Talnoy armor Nakor had seen. It was as if the Dark One’s servants had felt the need to be more impressive in appearance than those they had replaced.

  Nakor had heard the summons to the palace before Bek could respond, and had simply ushered his young companion into an alcove off a storage room, as hundreds of Talnoy guards hurried to answer the call. Bek had not questioned Nakor’s instructions, but Nakor could tell he was getting restless after sitting silently in this tiny room for hours. Softly Nakor said,

  “Soon. They’ll be here soon.”

  “Who will be here, Nakor?” asked the hulking young man.

  “Pug and the others.”

  “Then what will we do, Nakor? I want to do something.”

  “You will be able to do something soon, my friend,” whispered Nakor. “It will be something you like a lot.”

  Miranda could feel the fatigue threatening to overwhelm her, yet she forced herself to cast one more spell of scrying. Then her eyes opened wide and her head jerked back as if someone had slapped her.

  “What is it?” asked General Alenburga. His eyes narrowed in his sunburned face as he studied her.

  “That hurt.”

  “What hurt?” asked Kaspar of Olasko.

  “They’ve erected some sort of . . . barrier against scrying inside that thing.”

  Two dozen additional magicians had gathered since the end of the first phase of the battle, just before sunset, and they were a welcome sight when the Dasati started their second assault an hour after sundown. The Tsurani had used a different tactic this time, convinced that the Dasati would not err again 3 1 6

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  and try to charge a fixed position where the Tsurani could surround them.

  Alenburga had ordered a company of Tsurani engineers who had arrived toward the end of the battle to erect as many barriers as they could across the opening where the river trail emptied into the plain. The Dasati could still come through, but not in numbers unless they first stopped to remove the barriers, or tried to swim downriver.

  Then a dozen heavy ballista and a pair of trebuchets were unloaded from the wagons and erected, just as the Dasati again advanced down the trail. As their vanguard reached the end of the trail, Tsurani archers high in the hills overhead fired down on them, every fifth arrow being aflame, while those operating the trebuchets hurled huge barrels of flammable oil into the pass. The barrels each held fifty gallons of oil, and they were designed to disintegrate on impact, spreading the oil in every direction. It took a few minutes for the fire to begin in earnest, but after it caught hold, it quickly erupted into an infer
no that forced many Deathknights into the river where they were pulled under the fast-moving water by the weight of their own armor, or helped to their death by Tsurani spearmen who used their long pole-arms to hold the Dasati underwater as they attempted to reach either river-bank.

  After an hour of this, the Dasati beat a hasty retreat up the path.

  Now they were attempting to anticipate the Dasati’s next move, hence Miranda’s attempted scrying. “I was never very good at that sort of thing, anyway,” she said.

  The four young captains were waiting nearby, all of them showing evidence of fatigue. Zane was nearly asleep on his feet and Tad had to nudge him a few times to keep him alert. General Alenburga noticed and said, “Pass the word to stand down. Set pickets at the edge of the hills, a mile in each direction, and we’ll wait. Find whatever comfort you may and get some rest.”

  The four young officers hurried off to discharge their duty and take a break.

  Alenburga said to Miranda, “I don’t have any idea how you do what it is you do, but you look as if you could sleep for a month.

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  Go. I have a tent set up a mile or so to the rear. There’s food and a sleeping pallet there.” He detailed a soldier to escort her, and added, “My thanks to you and the other magicians. I doubt we’d be standing here if it wasn’t for your amazing skills.”