Rides a Dread Legion

by Raymond E. Feist

  A guardsman in the uniform of the Starblood Host said, “Your name?”

  “Gulamendis, on the Regent Lord’s business,” he answered.

  “Proceed, but halt at the last hut and see Lacomis.”

  He moved through a very busy village and noticed even the children were helping with the final cleanup and repair. Taking note, he judged fifty warriors and their families were now ensconced here and soon would be getting on with the business of hunting, fishing, and farming. He thought that should the Demon Legion not come, which he judged unlikely, or should they be defeated, again unlikely, this quiet little village might not be a bad place to settle.

  He reached the last hut and knocked on the side of the door. A voice said, “A minute,” then an elderly elf stuck his head out. “Who are you?”

  “Gulamendis. On the Regent Lord’s business. The guard told me to announce myself to you.”

  The elf stepped out of the hut and, from his robes, the Demon Master could see he was a magic-user, one unknown to him. Gulamendis had little to do with members of the Starblood Host over the years so that didn’t surprise him. “Stand over there,” said the old elf.

  Gulamendis moved to the indicated spot, and the old elf closed his eyes, waved his hand, and the Demon Master felt a mild magic gathering in the air around them. After a moment, the old elf opened his eyes and said, “Yes, you’re who you say.”

  “Worried about infiltrators?” asked Gulamendis.

  “Worried about everything,” said the old magic-user. He smiled. “So far we’ve only encountered squirrels, mice, and a few foxes, but until we completely secure this valley, we have orders to be wary.”

  “Understood,” said the Demon Master. “I must go.”

  “Walk with the Stars,” said the old man, returning to his hut.

  Moving down the hillside from the village, Gulamendis was impressed at the work done in his absence. The road a mile south of the village was now being paved with stone. A pair of young geomancers were directing workers, who would dump baskets of stone into piles across the road. The magicians would then use their craft to reform the loose pebbles and rocks into flat, form-fitting pavers that provided easy travel for wagon and mounted rider alike.

  Gulamendis nodded in greeting as he passed the work crew. Another mile down the road and he encountered a lone galasmancer, a master of plants, who was digging a small hole beside the road, using a simple wooden stick. He placed a seed in it, and closed his eyes. Waving his hand, he called forth a small plant that rose up before Gulamendis’s eyes. It was a glow tree, native to the world of Selborna. Midkemia might be Home, but the Taredhel were returning with the best they had found on other worlds. The tree would grow to a height of ten or twelve feet above the roadway and illuminate all around it in a soft, bluish glow, making night travel safe and easy. Gulamendis considered it was discoveries such as this that had robbed his people of the legendary woodlore they had once possessed. He had no doubt those elves he had encountered in Elvandar had no need of light to move effortlessly through the woods at night.

  The magic used by the galasmancer would cause the tree to grow at a furious rate, reaching maturity in months instead of years. At this time next year, there would be a line of trees along every highway out of E’bar, all making magical light in the night. He considered it would be quite the vision from the hills above the valley.

  Now that he was on paved road, the journey went quickly. Cresting a rise, the city came into sight and he stopped. His people might prove to be many things in the days to come, but they were artists! The city was already breathtaking, one to rival Tarendamar when it was completed.

  The outer wall was nearing completion, with massive gates being erected at the entrance that was his destination. Beasts of burden and magic would lift the huge wooden gates into place, securing them on balance so perfect a child could push one open with a single hand, yet, once secured, only rams of the most massive force could breach them. They were painted white, as were the walls, which had been faced with some limestone or other material that made the city almost sparkle in the afternoon sun.

  Spires were already rising from the central palace, and outer buildings were being raised. Gulamendis considered that there was enough room here for every surviving elf from Andcardia, and quite a bit more. Cynically, he did not imagine the Regent Lord was considering an invitation to their lost kin to come reside here. He was anticipating a successful transition to Midkemia and the need for expansion in the future. He planned on seeing his descendants playing in the streets of this city.

  As he reached the gate and moved past guards, who seemed unconcerned with another elf entering the city, he wondered how wise it was to put all this energy into such splendor, when defense was paramount. Then he took note of an outer tower rising above the gate, and saw recessed within the white façade, under the golden roof, a black presence, a crystalline form of baleful aspect. The Regent Lord was building death towers on the walls!

  Sighing at how even under this beauty the ugly reality of their situation endured, Gulamendis moved purposely toward the city center. The city was manifesting itself as he had anticipated, with a great Pavilion of the Stars at the center of the valley, with the Seven Stars planted around it. The trees of ancient myth somehow seemed slightly less impressive to Gulamendis now that he had traveled to the Holy Grove in Elvandar and had seen countless trees growing in all directions from the Queen’s balcony.

  To the south rose the new palace of the Regent, still under construction, as most of the geomancers had been tasked with building the outer defenses. Still, even as others labored to erect massive walls and towers, some artisans were at work decorating the façades already complete. The palace—for there was no other word that would do justice to this building—was white, with royal purple stonework resembling rope knot-work twisting around each opening. The rooftops and the spires were golden in the sun, the materials chosen not apparent to Gulamendis, but some quartz or glass stone, he was certain. Yet from this distance, the top of the structure looked to be topped in gold.

  He walked up the broad steps of the main entrance, noticing guards detailed along the way. Already the Regent Lord was exercising his appetite for pomp and ritual, for these soldiers were among the best remaining, and could have been struggling with the enemy on Andcardia, buying more time for more of the People to flee to Midkemia.

  As he neared the portal, a vast open arching doorway, he saw several of the honor guards still showing signs of recent combat, a bandage under a tunic collar, or a slight lean to one side to remove pressure from an injured leg or foot. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Gulamendis knew that meant the struggle on Andcardia was over, or nearly so. These warriors were being rewarded for service by being placed in the Regent’s own personal guard.

  As he crossed the vast marble floor, cleverly set off with borders of sparkling rose quartz between the massive slabs, he was hailed by a figure approaching him from the left. Tanderae motioned for the Demon Master to come closer. “Fare you well, Gulamendis?” he asked loudly enough to be overheard.

  “Well enough,” answered Gulamendis. Both knew exactly what was being discussed.

  The Lorekeeper motioned for the Demon Master to walk with him, and in a low voice said, “Before you see the Regent Lord, have a refreshment with me, please?”

  Gulamendis recognized it was not a request. He followed the Lorekeeper into a small apartment overlooking a huge central courtyard. Tanderae motioned for Gulamendis to look out.

  Looking down, the Demon Master could see the construction of a device, a massive latticework of golden metal, with large spheres of polished stone and gears, topped by a magnificent crystal. “The Sun Tower,” said Tanderae. “Our leader has decided to employ the sun to provide energy for the defenses of this new city.”

  “The death towers?”

  “You noticed.”

  “Difficult not to if you just glance into the cupolas atop the towers. I
’ve seen them up close before, in the battle of Antaria, and they are not something easily forgotten.”

  “I’ll take your word on that. I have no desire to ever see one used.”

  “Have they named the city yet?”

  “No, but everyone calls it E’bar, so I expect that will be what it becomes. So, tell me of what you’ve discovered.”

  Gulamendis sat as the Lorekeeper poured two goblets of wine. He sipped and found the vintage reminiscent of what he had tasted on Pug’s island. “Very good.”

  “Local,” said the Lorekeeper. “We sent raiders to the east and brought back everything not planted in the ground—and some things that were.”

  “Raiders!”

  “A small town. We made it look as if the Moredhel had returned from the north. Our soldiers wore dark cloaks and left survivors to carry the word that the Forgotten had fled northward, as if moving once again out of the region. Two of our trail-breakers even left miles of false trails leading away from here.”

  Thinking of what he had heard and seen, and about his own brother’s being detected by a Ranger of Natal, he said, “We should not underestimate these humans, Tanderae. They count able men in their ranks, and those trails may not conceal our presence here for long. And their magic-users are not to be trifled with.”

  “I know,” said Tanderae. “I counseled caution, and almost lost my place in the Regent’s Meet.”

  Gulamendis sat in a cushioned chair and sighed. “It will be hard enough to convince these people to trust us, to ally with us against the Demon Legion, without pillaging their towns and villages.”

  “The Regent Lord has little use for the idea of allies. Subject people, perhaps,” said Tanderae. He glanced toward the window as he added, “He grows consumed with creating a new home for our people, and he will hear of nothing else. I am convinced he plans to move against our neighbors once this place is complete.”

  Gulamendis said, “I must report to the Regent Lord soon, but let me tell you what I have found.” Quickly, but in detail, Gulamendis recounted his experiences since reaching the Queen’s court and then Sorcerer’s Isle. He omitted one detail, that of Tomas’s nature, as he did not want the conversation shunted off on a tangent. He wanted the full disclosure of facts to outweigh the certain emotion that would greet his news of the wearer of Dragon Armor living in Elvandar.

  The Lorekeeper listened without comment, and when Gulamendis finished, he had questions. The give-and-take added another half-hour to the conversation, and at the end, the Lorekeeper said, “These sound like impressive beings.”

  “I saw little of the dwarven king, which was as I would wish it”—his people’s distaste for dwarves was almost inbred; of all the competing races in the stars the dwarves had proven the most difficult to conquer—“but he was at ease with the elves in Elvandar, and has strong ties with the humans of the area.

  “Our cousins are as you would expect them, rustic, at one with the forest, deeply imbued with a sense of nature we have long ago forgotten.” He lowered his voice, more out of habit than necessity. “We would do well not to underestimate them, either, Tanderae. They may appear primitive, but their magic is strong if subtle. They have groves of trees that dwarf our Seven Stars, ancestors of our Seven Stars! And they are as one with the land under their feet. I saw no overt wards or other magical barriers, but I could not bring myself to cross the river into their land until I was bid enter. It might be we could mount an army on the opposite shore from Elvandar yet never step on that sacred land.” He sighed. “It worries me, fascinates me, and, somehow, it pleases me. It’s seeing ourselves in the mirror of time.”

  “I will go there, someday,” said Tanderae. “If we survive.”

  “The war?”

  “Badly. You may have noticed those who line the steps to this palace are recruited from the survivors of the last battle of Andcardia, those fit enough to stand watch. Many more still linger at death’s door, tended by the few healers we have left.” He sipped his wine and said, “These humans make fine wine, do they not?”

  “Indeed,” agreed Gulamendis. “My brother?”

  “No one has seen him,” said Tanderae, but then he laughed. “Of course, he could be standing next to them looking like anyone and they’d never know.”

  “A few would,” said Gulamendis.

  “There’s a reason your brother was counted first-most among the Circle of Light.”

  Gulamendis frowned.

  Tanderae held up his hand, palm outstretched to indicate no harm intended. “This is not a secret, Gulamendis, even if we are expected not to speak of such things any longer.

  “The demise of the Circle of Light is regrettable, in my opinion.” He sipped his wine. “It was foolish for the Regent’s Meet to insist that all magic-users fall under their purview. And when they stumbled across those like you…”

  “My brother objected.”

  “Indeed.” Sipping his wine again, Tanderae seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Had he not been so preeminent among those of the Circle, he might have suffered more harshly than…Well, let’s say despite his vanities and eccentricities, the Regent Lord and the Meet recognize a valuable resource.

  “They say Laromendis can create illusion so vivid that should his subject be shown a knife plunging into his chest his heart will stop as if the blade is real.”

  “So they say,” replied the Demon Master noncommittally.

  “Such ability is rare, and I suspect that once we get our new home built and turn our attention to dealing with our neighbors, we will give more credit to those of you who’ve been…let’s say not properly recognized for the work you’ve done on our behalf.” He put down his wine for a moment. “What do you think of these humans?”

  “We are more like them than we are like our kin in Elvandar,” Gulamendis replied flatly. “They wear their emotions on their faces like the shirts on their backs, but they have very keen minds among them, and talent to rival our own. I saw just enough from their magic-users to conclude that these are people we need to respect, for they are as endless as the sand on the beach and we…” He shrugged.

  “…are but a shadow of our former might. Yes, I know all too well,” said the Lorekeeper. It was implicit in his profession that he would know more of the history of the Taredhel than any other.

  “There is one among them, by name Pug, he may be among the most puissant magic-users I have encountered.” Gulamendis lowered his voice. “He claims to have been to the world housing the Demon Gate. He claims he can return.”

  Tanderae looked stunned. “If true…”

  “I think it is. I think he can provide the proof that no one among the Taredhel brought the demon wrath down upon us. It was simply bad fortune that exposed us to the Demon Legion. And, moreover, he claims to have the ability to close the gate for all time.”

  “Astonishing,” said the Lorekeeper.

  Gulamendis said, “When we last spoke, I was uncertain of how to receive your comments, but now that I have been out and among the humans, our kin, and even met a dwarf, I think nothing in our past has prepared us for this world. It is very different, with many questions, and those questions may have answers we will not entirely care to hear.

  “Yet, it is also a place of opportunity and, perhaps, even evolution so we may become even greater than before.”

  “What of this Queen?”

  “I think she is of the blood. I think her claim valid. You would be better able to judge, but there is something about her that speaks…no, it sings to your heart and mind. To see the Stars in their majesty, as they were before we fled to other worlds, to imagine what it must have been like here, at Home, when the world was young.” He sighed. “Our kin in Elvandar are truly one with the land beneath their feet, something we have lost.”

  “Those in Elvandar are more fundamentally who we were than any among our people,” began the Lorekeeper. “We named the finest among them rulers, partially in secret defiance of the…ancient ones
, but also to honor them as being more closely linked to the very magic of this world. They were the grove guardians, the protectors of the Stars. Even those of us among the fleeing Eldar venerated them.” He finished his wine. “It’s ironic that was the reason they chose to remain, so as not to relinquish their responsibility toward the sacred trees.

  “I’m pleased to see they have endured.” He stood up and said, “I intercepted the report that you had been seen coming down from the hills so we might have this chat before you report to the Regent Lord. But we have tarried long enough. I’ll escort you so there’s no further delay. Is there anything else you need to tell me before we see our lord and master?”

  Gulamendis stood. He had been weighing the possibility that he had found an ally in Tanderae against the one that the Lorekeeper saw him only as a usable tool or weapon. He judged it time to test that. “One thing. The Queen’s consort will be arriving in three days to speak with the Regent Lord.”

  Tanderae’s expression revealed volumes. “Is he coming to establish a claim?”

  “This Queen has no desire for sovereignty. She will avow we are a free people. No, it’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “Her consort wears the armor of…the Ancients.”

  Tanderae’s concern deepened visibly. “That is both odd and disturbing. A likeness or an artifact?”

  “More than an artifact,” said the Demon Master, beginning to perversely enjoy the mounting discomfort in the Lorekeeper. He might trust the elf, but that didn’t mean he had to like him.

  “More?” Tanderae’s eyes narrowed.

  “Her consort is by name Tomas; he is Warleader of Elvandar. He is Valheru.”

  Tanderae was visibly shaken. “How can this be?” he whispered. “If the Ancients still ruled, we would have been greeted by fire and sword; the humans, dwarves, goblins, all would have been obliterated.”