Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Nicholas said, ‘You know of the serpents?’

  Calis said, ‘One of our scouting parties encountered a band of moredhel near the border with Stone Mountain and there was a fight. That serpent ring was found on the body of a moredhel. It may be something from the days of the Great Rising, when the false Murmandamus marched against Sethanon. If so, there is nothing to fear.’

  Nicholas nodded. ‘But if it’s not …’

  ‘Then trouble stirs again.’

  Nicholas said, ‘What do Tomas and your mother propose to do?’

  Calis shrugged. ‘Nothing presently. Reacting to shadows is not our way. But because there may be some risk hidden in the gloom, I will travel with you.’

  Nicholas smiled. ‘Why you?’

  Calis smiled in return. ‘I am human as well as of the elvenkind. My looks will not betray me as they would anyone else from Elvandar.’ He glanced around at the wreckage of Crydee. ‘I would see what sort of men can do this thing.’ He looked again at Harry and Nicholas. ‘And I would learn more of my human heritage.’ He shouldered his bow. ‘I think I shall spend this evening with my grandparents. I see them rarely as it is, and we may be gone a long time as they count such things.’ Saying no more, he left.

  Harry waited a moment before he said, ‘What’s this about a ring?’

  Nicholas removed the ring and held it out for Harry’s inspection. In the twilight it seemed to have a glow of its own. ‘That’s an ill-aspected piece of jewelry,’ commented Harry with a grimace.

  ‘It may be more,’ said Nicholas. He put it back in his belt pouch and said, ‘Come along. We have a dozen things to do before we leave.’

  The ship cleared the harbor and Amos called for all sails. The day had dawned clear and warm, an auspicious start, Nicholas hoped. He stood on top of the forecastle, watching a nimble sailor scamper along the forechannel, adjusting the shrouds on the masthead. Nicholas looked down at the foaming water coursing past. Dolphins jumped off the bow wake, seeming at play.

  ‘A good omen,’ said the sailor who clambered down from the rail. He landed lightly upon bare feet and hurried to his next task.

  Nicholas considered the appearance of the crew and contrasted it with what he remembered from his journey to Crydee. Then each sailor had worn some variation of the uniform of the Kingdom fleet: blue trousers, blue-and-white-striped shirt, and a blue wool cap. Now they wore the most outlandish collection of castoffs and borrowed finery he had seen. Filthy trousers and tunics had been gladly exchanged by the fisherfolk of the village for the sturdy and warm naval issue. From out of the old trunks in the basement of the castle had come silk jackets and trousers, shirts of fine linen, hats of various fashion, some with plumes and others with tassels. From the fashion and cuts, the clothing had belonged to Lord Borric, Nicholas’s grandfather, and King Lyam and Nicholas’s father, when they had been boys at Crydee. A dozen gowns that must have belonged to Princess Carline or her mother, Lady Catherine, had also been put to good use, for Amos had made it clear that outrageous finery was one of the hallmarks of the Brotherhood of Corsairs, as he called them. So now common Kingdom sailors were wearing tunics owned by a young man thirty years ago who was now King of the Isles, and sewn upon the cuffs and collar were brocades and laces once adorning the gowns of the present Duchess of Salador, the King’s sister.

  Nicholas had to smile. He had elected to dress in some of his father’s old clothing; the fit and cut betrayed them as Arutha’s without doubt. He wore a pair of black, calf-high riding boots with a high flare of leather protecting the knee. Plain black trousers, full enough for easy movement, were topped with a plain white shirt, with loose collar and puffed sleeves. A black leather vest over that provided some protection against a sword’s point. His only concession to the more flamboyant choices of the crew was a red sash around his waist. Over his right shoulder hung a baldric of tooled black leather, a series of vines intertwining in the design. From this hung a saber, not the weapon Nicholas would have chosen, but one far more common than the rapier, widely known as the weapons favored by the Prince of Krondor and his sons. At his belt hung a long dagger.

  Nicholas left his head uncovered. His long hair had been pulled back into a tail, tied with a red ribbon, and his beard now approached ten days’ growth.

  Harry still wore his fanciful riot of colors, but at Amos’s insistence he had let them become dirty and start to fade in the sun. He complained of the discomfort, but Amos insisted that while colorful, buccaneers were usually a filthy lot.

  Marcus came up on deck and Harry laughed. The Duke’s son was turned out in almost identical fashion to Nicholas, save that his belt sash was blue and he wore his hair loose about his shoulders, with a blue wool cap upon his head. At his side he wore a cutlass, the weapon of choice for boarding a ship during battle, when fighting was in close. ‘If you two don’t look like brothers –’ But Harry fell silent as he received twin glares from the cousins.

  Nicholas said, ‘How was your father?’

  Marcus said, ‘He said very little to me. He smiled and wished me well, then fell into a deep sleep.’ Putting his hands on the rail, he gripped it tightly. ‘I stayed at his side all night … but he still was asleep when I left this morning.’

  Nicholas said, ‘He’s a strong man for his age.’

  Marcus only nodded. After a long silence, he turned to face Nicholas. ‘Let’s be clear on something. I don’t trust you. I don’t care what you’ve done since you’ve come to Crydee; once the situation turns bloody, I think you’ll quit. You don’t have the stomach for what we’re going to have to do soon.’

  Nicholas felt his color rise with the accusation, but he kept calm. ‘I don’t care if you trust me or not, Marcus, as long as you obey me.’ He turned his back and began to walk away.

  Marcus shouted after him, ‘I’ll not be named oath breaker, Nicholas, but if you cause any harm to my sister or Abigail …’ He let the threat go unfinished.

  Harry hurried down the companionway to overtake Nicholas. ‘This has got to stop,’ he said.

  Nicholas said, ‘What?’

  ‘This rivalry with Marcus. It’s going to get someone killed if you’re not careful.’

  Nicholas moved aside as a pair of sailors pulled a heavy rope past them, repositioning a yard. Amos shouted instructions from the quarterdeck. Nicholas said, ‘Until Marcus chooses to stop hating me, or at least distrusting me, there’s nothing I can do.’

  Harry said, ‘Look, he’s really not such a bad fellow. I’ve spent enough time around him to know. He’s a lot like your father in some ways.’ Nicholas’s eyes narrowed at that remark. ‘No, I mean it; your father’s a pretty hard man, but he’s fair. Marcus just lost any reason to be fair to you, that’s all. Do something to give him the chance to do what’s right, and he’ll do it.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘I don’t know, but somewhere you’ve got to find a way to let him know that you’re not his enemy.’ Hiking his thumb over his shoulder toward the west, he added, ‘The real enemy’s out there.’

  Thinking on the incredible things his uncle had told him the night before. Nicholas could only nod. ‘I think I may have a way, then.’

  Harry said, ‘Well I’m going to go talk to Marcus and try to make him see reason. If you think of something to help, do it, because we’re all going to need each other out there before this is through, I’m certain.’

  Nicholas grinned. ‘When did you get so smart, Harry of Ludland?’

  Harry returned the grin. ‘When things stopped being fun.’

  Nicholas nodded. ‘I’m going to talk to Amos. Have Marcus come to his cabin in a few minutes, will you?’

  Harry nodded and ran forward while Nicholas worked his way back to the quarterdeck. Reaching Amos’s side, he said, ‘We need to talk.’

  Amos glanced at Nicholas’s face and saw the seriousness of his expression. ‘Privately?’

  ‘In your cabin is best, Amos.’

  Amos turned to his
first mate. ‘You have command, Mr Rhodes.’

  ‘Aye, Captain!’ shouted the mate.

  ‘Keep her on course. I’ll be in my cabin.’

  They made their way to the captain’s cabin. In the companionway, they glanced through an open door to the cabin Marcus shared with Nakor, Calis, Ghuda, and Anthony. Those four lay on their bunks, content to rest after the long night’s preparation and in anticipation of more hectic days to come. Nicholas waved to them as he and Amos passed by.

  Amos opened the door to his own cabin and, once inside, said, ‘What is it, Nicky?’

  ‘We need to wait for Marcus.’

  A few minutes later a knock sounded and Nicholas opened the door. ‘What is it?’ asked Marcus as he stepped into the room.

  Nicholas said, ‘Sit down.’

  Marcus glanced at Amos, and the captain nodded.

  Nicholas said, ‘I know about Sethanon.’ He looked at Amos.

  Amos said, ‘I’ve told you about it, Nicky. What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean Uncle Martin told me everything.’

  Amos nodded. ‘There are things about that battle that your father and uncles know that even those of us who were there are ignorant of. I’ve kept from asking questions. If they judge it important enough not to speak of …’ He let the thought go unfinished.

  Nicholas spoke to Marcus. ‘What has your father told you?’

  Marcus looked at Nicholas with a sour expression. ‘I know of the Great Rising of the moredhel. I know of the battle, the aid from Kesh and from the Tsurani.’

  Nicholas took a deep breath. ‘There is a secret, known only to the King and his brothers. My brother Borric knows, because he will be King next. My brother Erland knows, because he will be Prince of Krondor after my father. Now I know.’

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed. ‘What secret would my father tell you that he would hold back from me?’

  Nicholas withdrew the ring from his belt pouch and handed it to Marcus, who examined it and passed it along to Amos. Amos said, ‘Those damned snakes.’

  Marcus said, ‘What is it?’

  Nicholas said, ‘I’m swearing you both to secrecy. What I say now to you both must stay in this cabin. Do you agree?’

  Marcus nodded, as did Amos. Nicholas said, ‘What few people know is that the Great Rising, when the false moredhel prophet Murmandamus invaded the Kingdom, was the handiwork of others.’

  ‘Others?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘The Pantathian serpent priests,’ said Amos.

  Marcus looked confused. ‘I’ve never heard of them.’

  ‘Few have,’ said Nicholas. ‘Murmandamus was a false prophet in more ways than one. Not only wasn’t he the long-dead leader returned to lead his people against us, he wasn’t even a true dark elf. He was a serpent priest who had somehow been magically transformed to resemble the legendary leader. The moredhel were duped and never knew of the deception.’

  Marcus said, ‘I see. But why is this so secret? I should think it would help us along our northern borders if the moredhel knew they were led by an impostor.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Because there is much more at risk. Within the city of Sethanon is an artifact. It is a great stone fashioned by an ancient race known as the Valheru.’

  Marcus’s eyes widened at this, and Amos nodded as if he saw pieces in a puzzle falling into place. Marcus said, ‘The Dragon Lords?’

  Marcus glanced at Amos, who sat in open amazement. Nicholas continued. ‘The Pantathians are some sort of race of lizard men, so your father says, Marcus. They worship one of the ancient Valheru as a goddess, and they wish to seize the Lifestone to use its vast power to bring her back to this world.’

  Amos said, ‘But Sethanon was abandoned. Rumor has it a curse was laid upon the city. None dwell there. Is this precious thing left unguarded for a reason?’

  ‘Martin said there was a guardian, a great dragon who is also an oracle. He wouldn’t say more save to tell me to go there someday. After we return from this journey, I will ask my father for leave to visit the oracle.’

  Marcus said, ‘Why didn’t my father tell me this himself?’

  Nicholas said, ‘Your father was sworn to an oath by Lyam. Only the King, my father, your father, and Pug knew of the existence of this stone and the guardian.’

  ‘Macros knew,’ said Amos. ‘I’m certain.’

  ‘Macros the Black vanished after the battle,’ answered Calis as he opened the door.

  Amos roared. ‘Do you not knock!’

  The Elf Prince shrugged. ‘My hearing is sharper than others, and these cabin walls are not as thick as you would like.’ He leaned against the door. ‘And my father also knows of the dragon who guards the stone, as she was once a friend to him, and he has told me of the battle at Sethanon. But why do you break your oath, Nicholas?’

  Nicholas said, ‘Because Marcus is my blood and of the royal family, even if his father has renounced all claim to the throne for his line. And Amos is to wed my grandmother, so he will be family as well. But more important, because I trust them and because should anything happen to me, others must understand the stakes here. More seems to be at risk than the lives of those taken, no matter how much we love them. There may be a time when it seems prudent to quit the chase, and if I am not here, I want you to know why you can never give up.’ Nicholas paused as if weighing his words. To Marcus he said, ‘Your father is not the type of man who is given to overstating anything, but I can scarcely believe what he said last. This thing, the Lifestone, is somehow linked with every living creature upon Midkemia. Should the Pantathians seize it, they will attempt to free their mistress, she whom they count a goddess, but in so doing they will be destroying every living creature on this world. Everything, he said to me, from the mightiest dragons down to the smallest insect. Our entire world will be reduced to an otherwise lifeless place, with only the returned spirits of the Dragon Lords walking the land.’

  Marcus’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Calis. The half-elf said, ‘So my father also has warned me. He, too, is not given to overstating things. It must be so.’

  Marcus’s voice was almost a whisper. ‘Why would these Pantathians do such an evil thing? They will die as well?’

  Nicholas said, ‘They are a death cult. They worship a Valheru who gave them shape and intelligence, for, before, they were merely serpents.’ He shook his head in disbelief at what he heard himself saying. ‘I wish I had known of this before Pug left. There are questions I would ask. In any event, they think she will rise to rule all and they will rise at her side, as demigods, and all who went before, all who died, will rise as well, as their servants.

  ‘Even if they know the truth, death holds no fear for them. They would welcome the destruction of the world to recall their “goddess”. Now you can see why we must continue on, even if some of us perish in the cause?’

  The last was said to Marcus, who nodded. ‘I understand.’

  Calis said, ‘Then you wisely know when blind obedience is foolish.’ He smiled.

  ‘Do you see that there can be no contention between us?’

  Marcus stood and said, ‘Yes.’ He extended his hand. They shook, and suddenly Nicholas was looking at the same crooked smile his father showed, as he added, ‘But when this is over, and Abigail is safely home in Crydee, look to guard yourself, Prince of the Kingdom.’

  The challenge was half in jest, half-serious, and Nicholas took it in the spirit it was made. ‘When she’s safely home, with your sister and the others.’

  They shook again, and Nicholas and Marcus left the cabin. Calis glanced at Amos, who was smiling faintly. ‘What do you find so amusing, Captain?’

  Amos sighed. ‘Just watching a couple of boys becoming men, my friend. The fate of the world perhaps hangs upon what we do, yet they still find time to contest over a pretty girl.’ Then his expression turned dark as he roared. ‘And if you ever dare enter my cabin again without leave, I’ll have your ears nailed to my door as a trophy! Understand?’

 
Calis smiled and said, ‘Understood, Captain.’

  Alone in his cabin, Amos Trask thought back to the dark days of the Riftwar and the Great Rising that followed hard after it. Many people he had known died, aboard his ship Sidonie, during the siege of Crydee, then later when the Royal Swallow was burned by goblins and he and Guy du Bas-Tyra were captured. Then came the years at Armengar and the constant warfare between Briana’s people and the dark elves in the northlands, ending at the battle of Sethanon.

  Sighing at the memories, Amos Trask addressed a small prayer to Ruthia, the Goddess of Luck, followed by the injunction, ‘Don’t let it happen again, you fickle witch.’ Thinking of Briana made him sad, and he hoped Martin would pull through.

  Then, impatient at memories and morbid thoughts, he pushed himself out of his chair and left the cabin. He had a ship to captain.

  • CHAPTER NINE •

  Freeport

  THE GIRL WEPT.

  Margaret said, ‘Will you please shut up?’ Her tone wasn’t threatening or commanding; just a request for respite from the almost constant wailing and crying of one or another of the town girls and boys.

  Duke Martin’s daughter had fought the entire way as she had been carried like a trophy animal to the boat waiting in the harbor. The image of her mother lying face down on the floor of her family’s castle with flames brightening the far hallway was etched into her memory and had fueled her with manic fury.

  The days that followed were no less a nightmare for being a blur. The captives had ranged in age from seven or eight years of age to a few in their late twenties. Most were between twelve and twenty-two, young, strong and certain to fetch a good price at the slave docks of Durbin.

  Margaret had no doubt that these murderers would find a royal fleet waiting to intercept them somewhere between the Straits of Darkness and Durbin. Her father was sure to get word to her uncle, Prince Arutha, and she would be saved along with all the other captives. So she turned her mind to protecting those around her until help arrived.