“He’s no guest,” said Willem indignantly. “He’s Uncle Rupert!” Seven-year-old Nataly rushed forward and threw her arms around his waist in a welcoming hug.
Rupert smiled at the boy’s brashness and the girl’s affection as Helen moved to close the door behind him. As it latched, he realized something: if his calculations were accurate, the invaders would be in sight of Kingdom soil in seven months.
Acting Corporal Garret had looked dubious, but he accepted Erik’s orders without comment. After questioning Duga and his men all the previous day, Erik had decided on a course of action. He ordered Garret to lead half the men requisitioned from the Border Barons on a slow march to Krondor, while Erik kept the remaining half with himself. They had turned in their tabards when they left their previous commands, but they still looked like soldiers.
Erik then had them swapping clothing with the captured mercenaries, and after a while judged the results sufficiently chaotic to give the illusion of this being a very large company of mercenaries.
Duga gave his approval: “They look like my boys.”
Erik had spent the previous evening talking with Duga. He had come to like the man, a simple no-nonsense captain with a company of eighty men who had come to realize they were in over their heads. It had taken all night, but Erik had at last convinced him that it was in his own best interest to give more than his parole; rather, he should switch sides. Several of his men seemed dubious, and Erik had marked those and sent them off with Garret’s squad, while the rest stayed with Erik and Duga.
Later that same day, the second contingent of Kingdom soldiers had ridden past, and Erik instructed them to follow Garret’s company. When Duga saw the third company of two hundred come past early the next morning, he commented that he and his men had been led to believe they were invading a country of weak, ill-prepared cities.
Erik had gone on at great length, patiently explaining how things were different here in the Kingdom, and while he downplayed the relative sizes of the two armies, he emphasized the training and equipment of the Kingdom soldiers. Fortunately for his case, he had been aided by the sight of six hundred of the toughest veterans in the King’s army riding by.
Duga gladly accepted the rations carried by Erik’s men, which they shared for breakfast. “You know,” he commented as he ate, “there’s not a lot keeping the Queen’s army together but fear.”
Erik nodded. “I saw that at Maharta.”
“It’s gotten worse.” He glanced around. “Some of the captains tried to desert after that, when we got word we were turning east toward the City of the Serpent River.”
“I heard what happened,” said Erik. Prince Patrick’s spies had reported about the captains being impaled along with some randomly selected soldiers.
“It’s as if we’re all guarding each other. No one wants to be there, but everyone’s afraid to say anything.” He shook his head. “No, if you say the wrong thing to the wrong man, you’ve got a stake pounded up your arse.”
Erik considered his next question. “Has anyone asked why you’re sent halfway around the world?”
“There’s nothing left at home,” he said. “Not much plunder when a city’s burned to the ground.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t believe this, but those snakes that stay close to the Queen have been telling everyone who’d listen that this is the richest place in the world, that there’s this city called Sethanon”—he pronounced it “Seeth-e-non”—“where the streets are marble, the door handles and latches are all gold, and they use silk for curtains.” He sighed. “After what I’ve seen for the last ten years, I can understand why men want to believe, but you’ve got to elect to be stupid to believe that nonsense.” He lowered his voice even more. “Some of the captains . . . we’ve talked about trying to do something, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But she’s just got too much control.”
“Tell me about this,” urged Erik.
He motioned with his chin that they should take a walk. When they were out of earshot of the men, Duga said, “I’ve probably got an agent or two of hers in my company now. You never know. This General Fadawah, he’s a ‘bloody genius with his tactics and knowing when to send the men and the like, but he’s also a murderous dog. You heard what happened to General Gapi?”
Erik nodded. “Staked out naked over an anthill because he failed.”
“And most of the generals and captains had to watch.” He hit himself in the chest with his thumb. “I was one of them. It wasn’t pretty, I can tell you that.”
Duga looked frustrated as he tried to explain. “It’s the way they’ve got us all,” he said, closing his hand slowly to demonstrate. “At first it was just another fight. You’d sign up at the rendezvous and go fight, loot, then spend your money. Then we started sacking cities. I remember Calis’s Crimson Eagles were on the other side at . . . where was it?”
“Hamsa,” supplied Erik. “That was before I signed on, but I heard the story of the siege.”
“That’s when it started to get ugly. For two hundred sixty—odd days the Queen starved those pitiful bastards; then she unleashed those Saaur raiders on those that fled.”
Erik had heard the story of how the survivors of Calis’s company had made it to safe haven with the Jeshandi, the nomadic riders of Novindus.
“Things started to look funny to us. We had a captains’ meeting, decided some of us had had enough, and went to see General Gapi. He took three of our captains to meet with the Queen, and they never came back.
“That’s when we knew. We were in this war as long as it was going to be fought, and any man tried to leave, he was the enemy.
“For a while it wasn’t too bad, though. There was plenty of plunder. Women, too, both willing and unwilling. But after a while you get tired, you know?”
Erik nodded. “I know.”
“Some of my boys—” He stopped. “None of us are boys anymore. Not a man in my company under thirty years of age, Erik.”
Erik said, “I don’t know what I can promise you. This is different than anything you’ve ever seen. This is a nation at war, but I think if you’ll either switch sides or stay out of the way, if we get through this we’ll find some way to get you home.”
“Home?” asked Duga, as if he didn’t understand the word. “You have any idea what it’s like back home?”
Erik shook his head.
“Farms burned, cattle slaughtered, fruit left to rot on the branches because there’s no one to work the orchards. Fields lying choked with weeds because the farmers are either dead or in the army.
“We ate everything.”
Erik said, “I don’t understand.”
“We fought this war for over ten years, from the Westlands through the Riverlands into the Eastlands, and we left nothing behind us.
“Whoever’s living down there now is scraping by. There may be some people still living in the burned-out cities. I hear there’s a city full of dwarves somewhere up in the Ratn’gari Mountains the Queen was smart enough to leave alone, but if it had humans in it, it was burned to the ground.”
Erik could hardly credit what he heard. “Nothing left?”
“Some people hid, and others just lived too far away to bother with, so there’s someone living down there. But most of those we left behind were dead, Erik. There are no cities left, and only a few towns with a building standing. If a farmer lived enough distance away, he might have a crop, unless those fleeing the cities ate it. And the sickness . . .”He sighed. “With that many dead, it had to come. Some of our own men got the runs so bad they died from them; couldn’t even hold down a drink of water in their stomachs. Others got the black pox. Or some got fevers with no herbs or temple priests around to heal them. It’s pure misery back home, that’s what it is.”
Erik studied the man’s face and saw something in his eyes he had never seen in a soldier before. There was a deep horror that had been held in check so long it was not even being acknowledged, and whe
n it at last came to the surface, who knew what might be the result.
Erik put his hand on Duga’s shoulder. “There are plenty of living people here.” Raising his voice a little, he said, “And I intend to see they stay that way.” Smiling, he added, “Even if they’re a bunch of scruffy mercenaries too damn far from home for their own good.”
Duga’s eyes widened slightly as he searched Erik’s face, then he nodded once, and turned away quickly, to keep Erik from seeing the moisture gathering in them. To his own men, he shouted, “Look lively, then, we’ve got to show these Kingdom lads how to be properly scruffy mercenaries.”
That got a laugh from some of his men, though most of the Kingdom soldiers didn’t understand the dialect he spoke.
Now the camp looked much as it had when Erik had encountered it, save that more than half the men were Kingdom soldiers, and a squad of thirty bowmen was lurking in the trees just out of sight to lend support.
On the third day after the surrender, a sentry reported riders approaching from the south.
“Get ready,” Erik instructed his men.
Duga’s mercenaries moved with the slow confidence of bored soldiers, while Erik’s men kept swords and shields very close to hand. In the trees the archers made ready.
A few minutes later three riders entered the clearing, each dressed in a traveling robe. The leader threw back his hood and revealed a man of middle years, with grey-shot black hair. “Who leads?”
“I do,” said Erik.
“What company?” asked a second man.
“Duga’s Black Swords,” answered Erik.
“You’re not Duga!” said the first man.
“No, Kimo, I am.” Duga stepped forward.
The man named Kimo said, “He claims to lead.”
Duga shrugged. “We got bored waiting for you. He challenged me, and won.” He made a show of rubbing his jaw. “Look at the size of him. Damn near broke my head. So, he’s in charge.”
“What’s your name, ‘Captain’?” asked Kimo.
Not knowing why, Erik answered, “Bobby.”
“Well, Bobby,” said Kimo, “your orders are to take your men west from here. Three days’ march, you’ll come to a small valley with a village in it. Leave that village alone. Don’t let them even know you’re here. Move past it at night, and head up into the mountains. Find a river that feeds that village, then follow it upward until you come to a branch. Follow the northern branch. You’ll find a nice little valley with game. We’ve also laid in supplies there. Wait until someone comes for you. When that happens, you must return down the river and take that village.”
Attempting to look confused, Erik said, “Why wait? Why not just take the village now?”
The man who had been silent spoke, and the hair on Erik’s arms and neck stood up, for the voice wasn’t human. “You are not paid to ask questions, boy.” To Kimo the creature said, “Should we kill this one and turn command back to that one?” He pointed at Duga, and Erik saw a scaled hand, green, with black talons. He had seen Pantathians before, even killed a few, but he felt relaxed only around the dead ones.
“No, we have no time for this. There are other companies to find.” The second man took out a map and started to read it.
Erik didn’t hesitate. “Kill them!”
The air filled with arrows, and before Kimo and his companions could act, they were literally lifted from their saddles as arrows struck them. Duga’s eyes widened and he said, “Why did you do that?”
Erik crossed first to the Pantathian and kicked it to make sure it was dead. Then he went to the second man, and as he knelt next to him, he said, “Because I need this map.”
He studied it a moment; then his eyes widened. “Nelson!” he shouted, and one of his men ran over.
“Yes, Sergeant Major!”
“Take two extra horses and go find our men. I want them back as fast as you can bring them. Meet us . . .” He studied the map a moment. “Meet us at the northern bank of the river Tamyth, where it falls. Three days to the east of the road to Hawk’s Hollow.”
“Yes, Sergeant Major!” Nelson said with a salute and turned.
“And, Nelson,” Erik said, halting the man.
“Yes, Sergeant Major?”
“Get your uniform back on. Garret may shoot you down for a bandit before he recognizes you.”
Nelson nodded and ran off.
“What’s this all about, then?” asked Duga.
Erik held up the map. “There are twenty companies like yours scattered through these hills. And if I read this right, they’re all going to seize key points in the hills, opening up the way for the Queen’s army to breach those mountains.”
Duga said, “I don’t follow.”
“No,” said Erik, “but I do. Jack!”
Another soldier hurried over. “I’m going to draft a message for Knight-Marshal William. You take six men and ride like hell for Krondor.”
The soldier hurried off to get ready. Duga followed Erik as he moved toward his own horse. Erik pulled parchment, pen, and ink from his saddle bag. Duga said, “What is this about key points in the hills?”
Erik turned and said, “If you’d moved about much outside this clearing, you’d have seen a range of mountains west of here.” With his chin, he indicated a vaguely southeast direction. “Sethanon, that city you spoke of is down that way. There’s nothing of marble, gold, and silk about her, but she’s important. I’m not quite sure why, but I have it on good authority that if we let your former comrades get there, we’re all dead, even those in the Queen’s army.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Duga. “She kills men every night.”
“Tell me about it later,” said Erik. Duga fell silent as Erik wrote. When he was finished, he handed the parchment to the soldier named Jack and said, “With your life!”
The soldier saluted. “Understood, Sergeant Major.” Then he ran to where the other six riders waited.
Erik turned to Duga. “Looks like you’re about to enlist in the King’s army. You’re going to fight for gold after all—just on the other side.”
Duga shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”
“As I was saying, Sethanon’s down there, and the mountains are over there. And the Queen’s army is coming over those mountains to get there.”
“Ah,” said Duga. “Now I see why they went to the trouble of getting us here.” He shook his head. “Some of those Pantathians collapsed when they sent the lads in front of us. It took some powerful magic by the look of things. Some of them died.”
“That doesn’t break my heart,” said Erik as he started shouting orders to strike camp.
“What I mean,” said Duga, “is they can’t send any more soldiers with that magic. Because if they could, they would, don’t you see?”
Erik stopped. “You must be right. Else why hide you all down here?”
He scratched his beard. “Some very odd goings-on, if you ask me. Why didn’t they just put us in this city of Sethanon?”
“Because you’d all be dead before you got your bearings,” answered Erik. He thought it best not to elaborate. The truth was, he didn’t know why that was so, but all Duke James and Knight-Marshal William would say was that it wouldn’t be possible for the Pantathians to send men directly into Sethanon. Erik suspected it had to do with one or another of the magicians that James was talking about, Pug or that woman Miranda.
Erik didn’t dwell further on the question. He had too many things to do. “Duga?”
“Yes?”
“These other companies, do you know them?”
“A couple. Taligar’s Lions were the first through. They’ll not throw down swords easily—Taligar’s got a bitch of a temper and he just doesn’t like to lose. Nanfree’s Brothers of Iron might listen to reason if I can talk to them before people start bleeding.” He grinned. “Nanfree’s a smart old fox who likes to work as little for as much gold as he can.”
Erik said, “Good. We’ll go in and talk
to them first, if we can, but if we need to fight, I expect you to know which side you’re on.”
Duga shrugged. “I forgot which side I was on years ago.” He glanced around the woods. “This seems like a nice place. I’ve had my fill of killing and burning. Might as well pick this land to call home and die for. Don’t see much back where we started worth that.”
Erik nodded. “That’s as good an answer as I could expect.”
Duga turned and shouted to his men, “Up we go, lads. It’s time to earn some pay.” He glanced at Erik, then with a grin he shouted, “You’re all soldiers of the King now, so behave yourselves!”
“Wait!” Erik instructed softly.
The defenders had holed up behind some rocks, and Erik had sent bowmen along a ridge above to provide cover fire. For a month he had swept through the Dimwood, using the map to locate and encircle the various companies of the Emerald Queen who were hidden there.
Of the first dozen companies Erik and his men had routed, eight had surrendered and four had fought. Erik had been forced to delegate some of his men to escort the captured soldiers who refused to turn coat to a safe holding place.
His company now numbered eleven hundred men, spread out in five squads. Coordinating efforts was difficult, and he regretted the many horses that were lamed as messengers raced between squads, but all reports indicated the sweep of the Dimwood was going well.
More than once he had wondered how much of this Calis had anticipated, for it seemed too providential that he should just happen to be riding through here with six hundred crack soldiers when the Emerald Queen’s advance forces popped into view. Sometime he’d have to remember to ask just where Calis got so much good intelligence.
A scout came running toward Erik, and one of the enemy soldiers behind a rock loosed an arrow that barely missed the man. Erik grabbed him by the tunic and demanded, “What’s wrong?”
The soldier was one of Duga’s mercenaries. Short of breath, he could blurt out only one word: “Saaur!”
“Where?” demanded Erik.
“That way,” said the soldier, turning to look back over his shoulder into the wood.
Rage of a Demon King Page 15
