Silverthorn

by Raymond Feist

  The large man fell face downward on the floor and then sat up, rubbing at his painful shoulder. “Ha!” He laughed loudly. “You come back sometime, big hunter. You give Longly good thrashing, by gods!”

  They raced out of the inn to the stables. The stableboy nearly fainted at the sight of all those armed men running toward him. Arutha said, “Where are our horses?” The boy pointed toward the rear of the stable.

  Martin said, “They’ll not stand up to a long run tonight.”

  Seeing other mounts, fresh and fed, Arutha said, “Who owns these?”

  The boy said, “My master, sir. But they are to be sold at auction next week.”

  Arutha signaled for the others to saddle the fresh mounts. The boy’s eyes teared as he said, “Please, sir, don’t kill me.”

  Arutha said, “We’ll not kill you, boy.”

  The boy cowered away while the animals were saddled. The Hadati took a saddle from what was obviously the inn’s supply of tack and made a sixth horse ready. Arutha mounted and tossed a pouch at the boy. “Here, tell your master to sell our mounts and make up the difference from what’s in the bag. Keep something for yourself.”

  When all were ready, they rode from the stable, through the gates of the inn courtyard, and down a narrow street. If an alarm was going out, the city gates would soon be closed. A death in a bar brawl was a chancy thing. They could be pursued or not, depending upon which officer of the city watch was on duty that night, as much as for any other cause. Arutha decided to take no chances and they raced for the city’s western gate.

  The city guards barely took notice when the six horsemen galloped past and disappeared down the highway toward the Free Cities. No alarm had been sounded.

  Down the road they flew, until the lights of Ylith were a distant glow in the night behind them. Then Arutha gave the signal to rein in.

  He turned to the Hadati. “We must speak.”

  They dismounted and Martin led them to a small glade some distance from the road. As Jimmy tethered the horses, Arutha said, “Who are you?”

  “I am Baru, called the Serpentslayer,” answered the Hadati.

  Laurie said, “That is a name of power.” He explained to Arutha, “To earn his name, Baru killed a wyvern.”

  Arutha looked at Martin, who inclined his head in respect. “To hunt dragonkind takes courage, strength of arm, and luck.” Wyverns were first cousins to dragons. The difference was mainly of size. To face one was to face rage and talons, speed and fangs, twelve feet high at the shoulder.

  The Hadati smiled for the first time. “You are a hunter, as your bow proclaims, Duke Martin.” At this Roald’s eyes widened. “Mostly, it takes luck.”

  Roald stared at Martin. “Duke Martin…” He then looked at Arutha. “Then you’d be…”

  The Hadati said, “He is Prince Arutha, son of Lord Borric and brother to our King. Did you not know?”

  Roald sat back silently shaking his head in an emphatic no. He looked at Laurie. “This is the first time you’ve ever told only part of a story.”

  Laurie said, “It’s a long one and even stranger than the other.” He said to Baru, “I see you are a northerner, but I do not know your clan.”

  The Hadati fingered his plaid. “This signifies I am of Ordwinson’s family of the Iron Hills Clan. My people live near the place you city men call Lake of the Sky.”

  “You Bloodquest?”

  He indicated the rolled scarf about his forehead. “I quest. I am Wayfinder.”

  Roald said, “He’s a sort of holy man…ah, Highness.”

  Laurie said, “A consecrated warrior. The scarf contains the names of all his ancestors. They can have no rest until he finishes his mission. He’s taken a vow to complete the Bloodquest or die.”

  “How do you know me?” asked Arutha.

  “I saw you on your way to the peace conference with the Tsurani at the end of the war. There is little about those days any of my clan will forget.” He looked off into the night. “When our King called to us, we came to fight the Tsurani, and for nine years and more we did so. They were strong foemen, willing to die for honor, men who understood their place on the Wheel. It was a worthy struggle.

  “Then, in the spring of the last year of the war, the Tsurani came in great number. For three days and nights we fought, surrendering ground at great cost to the Tsurani. On the third day we who came from the Iron Hills were surrounded. Every fighting man of the Iron Hills Clan was numbered among those who stood at bay. To a man we should have died, save that Lord Borric saw us imperiled. Had not your father sortied to save us, our names would be but whispers upon yesterday’s wind.”

  Arutha recalled that Lyam’s letter about his father’s death had mentioned Hadati. “What has my father’s death to do with me?”

  Baru shrugged. “I don’t know. I was seeking knowledge at the gate. Many pass there, and I was asking questions to aid my quest. Then I saw you pass. I thought it would be interesting to discover why the Prince of Krondor would enter one of his own cities as a common fighter. It would help pass the time while I sought information. Then the assassin came, and I couldn’t stand idly by and watch him slaughter you. Your father saved the manhood of my people, I saved your life. Perhaps that pays a debt in part. Who can know how the Wheel turns?”

  Arutha said, “At the inn you said there were others?”

  “The man who tried to kill you followed you into the inn, watched you for a moment, then returned outside. There he spoke to a street boy, giving him money, and the boy ran off. He saw the three who fought with you and stopped them before they could pass. I heard nothing that was said, but he pointed to the inn and the three entered.”

  Arutha said, “Then the fight was staged.”

  Jimmy, who had finished with the horses, said, “More likely he knew Longly’s temper and made sure he knew some strangers were at his usual table, in case they were heading somewhere else and might miss us.”

  Laurie said, “He might have wanted to keep us busy until others arrived, then saw what he thought was too good a chance to miss.”

  Arutha said, “Had you not been there, Baru, it would have been too good a chance to miss.”

  The Hadati took this as thanks and said, “There is no debt. As I said, it may be I who am paying off a debt.”

  Roald said, “Well then, I guess you’ve sorted everything out. I’ll be off for Ylith.”

  Arutha exchanged glances with Laurie. The minstrel said, “Roald, old friend, I think you should change your plans.”

  “What?”

  “Well, should you have been noticed with the Prince, which seems likely, as there were thirty or forty people in the inn when the brawl broke out, those who are looking for him may decide to ask you where we’re bound.”

  With false bravado Roald said, “Just let them try.”

  Martin said, “We’d rather not. They can be determined. I’ve had dealings with moredhel before, and they lack tenderness.”

  Roald’s eyes widened. “The Brotherhood of the Dark Path?”

  Martin nodded and Laurie said, “Besides, you’re presently at liberty.”

  “Which is how I plan to stay.”

  Arutha tried a sterner stand. “You’d say no to your Prince?”

  “No disrespect intended, Highness, but I’m a free man not in your service and I’ve broken no laws. You have no authority over me.”

  “Look,” said Laurie, “there’s a likelihood these assassins are going to look hard for anyone seen with us. And even though you’re as tough a boot as I’ve known, I’ve seen what they can do and I’d not risk being taken alone by them.” Roald’s resolve seemed unshaken.

  Martin said, “We could certainly find some reward for service.”

  Roald, visibly brightening, said, “How much?”

  Arutha replied, “Stay until we complete our quest and I’ll pay you…a hundred golden sovereigns.”

  Without hesitation Roald said, “Done!” It was easily four months’ wages fo
r even a seasoned caravan guard.

  Arutha then looked at Baru. “You spoke of needing information. Can we aid your Bloodquest?”

  “Perhaps. I seek to find one of those you know as the Brotherhood of the Dark Path.”

  Martin raised an eyebrow at Arutha. “What have you to do with the moredhel?”

  “I seek a large moredhel of the Yabon hills, who wears a topknot, so”—he pantomined a horsetail of hair—“and three scars upon each cheek. I have been told he has come to the south on some black mission. I had hoped to hear of him from travelers, for one like that will stand out among the moredhel of the south.”

  Arutha said, “If he has no tongue, then he attacked us on our way to Sarth.”

  “That is him,” said Baru. “The tongueless one is called Murad. He is a chieftain of the Clan Raven moredhel, blood enemies of my people since the dawn of time. Even his own people fear him. The scars upon his face speak of pacts with dark powers, though little beyond that is known. He has not been seen in years, since before the Riftwar when moredhel moss-troopers raided across the hill borders of Yabon.

  “He is the cause of the Bloodquest. He was seen again two months ago when he led a band of black-armored warriors past one of our villages. For no good reason he paused long enough to destroy the village, burning every building and killing everyone there except the herdsboy who described him to me. It was my village.” With an almost resigned sigh he said, “If he was near Sarth, then there I must go next. This moredhel has lived too long.”

  Arutha nodded to Laurie, who said, “Actually, Baru, if you stay with us, he’ll most likely come looking for you.” Baru looked quizzically at the Prince, and Arutha told him of Murmandamus and his servants and the quest for Anita’s cure.

  When he had finished, the Hadati grinned and there was no humor in it. “Then I shall take service with you, Highness, if you will accept me, for fate has thrown us together. You are hunted by my enemy and I will have his head before he can have yours.”

  “Good,” said Arutha. “You will be welcome, for we follow a dangerous road.”

  Martin stiffened, and in almost the same instant Baru was coming to his feet, moving toward the trees behind the Duke. Martin signaled for silence, and before the others could move, he vanished into the trees, a step behind the hillman. The others began to move until Arutha motioned for them to hold. As they stood motionless in the dark, they heard what had alerted Martin and the Hadati. Echoing through the night was the sound of riders coming down the road from Ylith.

  Long minutes passed, then the sound of hoofbeats passed, heading southwest. A few more minutes after, Martin and Baru reappeared. Martin whispered, “Riders, a dozen or more, moving down the road as if there were demons coming behind.”

  “Black armor?” asked Arutha.

  Martin said, “No, these were human, and hard to see in the dark, but I judge them a rough crew.”

  “The Nighthawks could have hired extra bashers if they needed. Ylith’s that sort of town,” Laurie said.

  Jimmy agreed. “Maybe only one or two were Nighthawks, but hired knives kill as quickly as any others.”

  Baru said, “They head toward the Free Cities.”

  “They’ll be back,” said Roald. Arutha turned to look at the mercenary in the gloom, barely seeing his face in the faint moonlight. “Your Baron Talanque has a new customs shed down the road five miles. My caravan passed it this afternoon. Seems there’s been some new smuggling from Natal of late. They’ll find out from the guards no one passed this night, and they’ll be back.”

  “Then,” said Arutha, “we must be away. The question is how we reach Elvandar. I planned on traveling the road north to Yabon, then going west.”

  Roald said, “From Ylith north you’ll meet some who know you from the war, Highness. Especially around LaMut. Had I any wits about me, I’d have figured it out after a while.”

  “Then which way?” asked the Prince.

  Martin said, “We could head straight west from here, take the South Pass, and run the Grey Towers along the western face through the Green Heart. It’s dangerous, but…”

  Arutha said, “But goblins and trolls are known enemies. That is how we shall travel. Now let’s be off.”

  They mounted and moved out, Martin in the lead. Slowly they wended their way through the dark and silent forests, heading west. Arutha hid his anger, forcing it down within. The uneventful trip from Sarth to Ylith had lulled him, making him forget for a while what dangers existed. But the ambush at the inn and the pursuing riders had turned his awareness back to the dangers. Murmandamus and his agents might have been denied their magic means of finding him, but they still had a net out, one that had nearly caught him.

  Jimmy rode last in line, and he watched behind for a while, hoping not to see signs of followers. Soon sight of the road was lost in the darkness, and the boy returned his attention to Roald’s and Laurie’s backs, the only things he could see before him.

  THIRTEEN

  STARDOCK

  The wind whipped the water to white foam.

  Gardan looked at the distant shore of Stardock, wishing he could ride to the academy instead of trusting fate to keep a barge right side up. Still, it was on an island. He had endured sea voyages before, but despite a lifetime living in a seaport he hated traveling over water, though he could never openly admit as much.

  They had left Krondor by ship, traveling down the coast until they entered the narrows between the Bitter Sea and the Sea of Dreams, which was more of a giant saltwater lake than a true sea. At Shamata they had commandeered horses and followed the river Dawlin to its source, the Great Star Lake. Now they stood waiting for the barge to put in. It was poled by two men in simple tunics and trousers, local peasants by the look of them. In a moment Gardan, Brother Dominic, Kasumi, and six Tsurani guards would step aboard and be poled to Stardock Island, almost a mile away.

  Gardan shivered in the unseasonably cool air. It was spring, but the late afternoon air had none of the warmth expected at this time of year. “I’m the fugitive from a hot land, Captain,” said Kasumi with a chuckle.

  Gardan’s voice had little humor in it as he replied, “No, it is cold here, but there’s something else. I’ve felt nothing but dark foreboding since leaving the Prince.” Brother Dominic said nothing, but his expression showed he shared the feeling.

  Kasumi nodded. He had stayed in Krondor to guard the King, and when Arutha’s messages arrived he had accepted Lyam’s charge to accompany Gardan and the Ishapian monk to Stardock. Besides his desire to visit Pug again, there had been something in Lyam’s orders that made him believe the King counted the monk’s safe arrival at Stardock vital.

  The barge put in to shore and one of the two bargemen stepped ashore. “We’ll have to make two trips to carry the horses, sir,” he said.

  Kasumi, who was senior, said, “That will be fine.” He indicated five of his men and said, “These will go first; we will follow.”

  Gardan said nothing about going second; he had no desire to rush the coming ordeal. The five Tsurani led their animals aboard and took up position silently. Whatever they might think about journeying on the wallowing barge, they maintained their stoic demeanor.

  The barge put out, and Gardan watched quietly. Save for faint signs of activity on the far island, the southern shore of the Great Star Lake was deserted. Why, wondered Gardan, would anyone choose to live in such isolation? Legend had it a star fell from the sky, creating the lake. But whatever the lake’s origins no community had ever arisen upon its shores.

  The lone remaining Tsurani guard said something in his own language to Kasumi, pointing to the northeast. Kasumi looked where the man pointed.

  Gardan and Dominic looked as well. In the distance, close to the horizon and coming before the approaching night, several winged figures could be seen gliding swiftly toward them. “What are they?” asked Kasumi. “Those are the biggest birds I’ve seen on your world so far. They appear to be nearly man-sized.” />
  Gardan squinted. Suddenly Dominic shouted, “Ishap’s grace! Everyone back to shore.”

  The bargemen looked back from where they were making slow, steady progress. Seeing Gardan and the others draw weapons, they quickly pushed back for land. The approaching figures could now be seen as they raced toward the party on shore. One of the boatmen cried out in fear and prayed to Dala for protection.

  The nude creatures were grotesquely human-shaped, male, with blue skins and powerfully muscled torsos. Shoulder and chest muscles flexed as giant batlike wings beat the air. Their heads resembled those of hairless monkeys, and each waved a long, prehensile tail. Garden counted: there were an even dozen of them. With impossibly high shrieks, they dove straight at the party on shore.

  As his horse bolted, Gardan lunged to one side, barely avoiding the outstretched claws of one of the creatures. A scream sounded behind, and Gardan glimpsed one of the bargemen being carried aloft by a creature. It hovered for an instant with a powerful beat of its wings, holding the man by the neck. With a contemptuous cry it ripped out the bargeman’s throat and dropped him. In a spray of blood, the man fell to the water.

  Gardan struck out at one of the creatures, which sought to grab him in the same manner. The blade struck it squarely in the face, but the creature only withdrew with a back beat of its wings. There was no apparent mark upon it where the sword had struck. It grimaced, shook its head, then launched another attack. Gardan fell back, focusing his entire concentration on the creature’s outstretched hands. Very humanlike fingers ending in long talons raked across the steel of his blade as he parried. The captain wished his horse had stood long enough for him to retrieve his shield.

  “What manner of beings are these?” Kasumi shouted as the barge got close enough for the five Tsurani to leap for the shore.