Magician's End

by Raymond E. Feist

  Then the boat crashed into underwater rocks.

  Brendan was thrown forward into the fish well, landing on his neck and shoulder with enough force that his vision swam. He lay in reeking water up to his chin while the boat shook and groaned as it was pushed across the rocks. He got up spitting foul water and could barely get to his feet. His head throbbed and keeping his wits was proving a challenge. Pulling hard, he got over the lip of the fish well, but as he tried to climb, the boom swung wildly, striking him forcefully.

  The world spun out of control and fell sideways, his senses fleeing as the boat started to break up on the rocks.

  Images swam above him as Brendan regained consciousness. He had trouble focusing and he ached from his head to his feet.

  A man’s voice said, ‘Quite a beating you took there, young sir.’

  The speaker was just a little out of his field of vision. He managed to croak out a sound and felt someone put an arm behind his shoulder and lift him as a cup of water was put to his lips. He drank a little and felt his throat relax a bit. ‘Sorcerer’s Isle?’

  A face hove into view. Female, but something decidedly unusual about her. He blinked and said, ‘Who are you?’

  With a slightly accented King’s Tongue, she answered, ‘I am Dilyna.’

  He blinked again and finally she came into focus. ‘Is this Sorcerer’s Isle?’

  She nodded and he noticed there was something odd about her eyes: they were a brown bordering on red. Her hair was a deep brownish red, but her skin was pale. She answered. ‘This is the Isla Beata, but some call it Sorcerer’s Isle.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said as he tried to move. ‘Anything broken?’

  ‘Here,’ she said, holding up a shallow bowl with a pungent-smelling liquid in it. ‘This will heal you faster and make the pain less.’

  He endured the draught, and finally said, ‘I’m Brendan. My brother is Henry, Duke of Crydee, and I’m looking for—’

  A voice from behind said, ‘Me, I should think.’ A man came into view and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I received word yesterday that a small fishing boat had crashed into the rocks, and tied up in the wreckage was a young man wearing a signet that identified him as a member of the royal family.’ He tapped on the ring on Brendan’s right hand. ‘So I came to have a look.’

  Brendan felt a warm glow creep into his body and the pain subsided. ‘Ruffio!’ he said, grabbing the dark-haired magician by the arm. ‘My brother needs you in Krondor …’ He blinked. ‘Or maybe he doesn’t, now that I’ve found you.’ He felt his eyelids grow heavy.

  ‘Dilyna failed to mention that she gave you a healing draught that makes you fall asleep.’

  A moment later, Brendan was snoring loudly.

  Hours later, Brendan awoke. The draught had done its work. He was stiff and a little sore, but nothing like the mass of pain he had been before. He saw the room was dark and wondered if he had slept through a day and night. There was a hint of grey light coming through a crack in the shutters. He raised himself up on his elbows and saw Dilyna sitting in the corner, reading something by lantern light. ‘Hello, again,’ he croaked.

  He saw a pewter pitcher and cup on the nightstand next to his bed. He sat up and managed to fill the cup and drink. ‘I should do that,’ she said, looking down at him.

  Brendan grinned. ‘I thank you, but I’m feeling much better now.’ He must feel better: he realized Dilyna was far more attractive than he had first thought. Of the three brothers, Brendan was the ladies’ man, with Hal being relatively shy due to being the heir, and their mother watching him like a hawk. Martin had been in love with Bethany before Martin knew he was in love with Bethany, and whatever encounters he had had with town girls at Crydee had been the result of a festival, lots of wine or ale, and the girl being the predator, often thinking she might land the duke’s son. Brendan, on the other hand, had discovered the difference between girls and boys at a very early age and had also discovered he very much liked the difference. He had probably bedded more girls in Crydee and the rest of the Far Coast than both his brothers combined, despite being the youngest.

  Dilyna was not particularly tall, but he judged she had long legs and a well-rounded backside from the way her dress fitted her.

  When she realised she was being appraised, the colour rose in Dilyna’s cheeks. ‘I should fetch Ruffio,’ she said, and hurried out of the room.

  The young magician appeared a moment later, followed by the girl. He smiled. ‘Feeling better?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ replied Brendan. ‘How long have I been here?’

  ‘Our lookout saw your boat foundering off the point two days ago, and by the time we got down to you, it had struck the rocks and was breaking up. We found you entangled in line and sails and got you out. Another few minutes and I think you’d have been under water.’ He smiled again.

  ‘I’m glad you got to me when you did,’ said Brendan. A sudden burst of thunder caused him to look toward the window. ‘The storm still lingers?’

  ‘Two days now. It is not natural.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Someone is using weather-magic to keep this island busy,’ Ruffio replied.

  Brendan sat up on the edge of the bed. ‘Do you know who?’

  ‘We have our suspicions,’ said Ruffio. He motioned for Dilyna to depart and she hurried out of the room.

  ‘She’s very pretty,’ observed Brendan, watching her go.

  ‘She’s also from a region of Novindus, in the Riverlands, where girls and boys are segregated, so I think you’d better get used to her avoiding you as long as you’re here.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Brendan, then he lost his smile. ‘I have much to tell you, Ruffio, and I suspect time may be vital.’ A sudden gust of wind rattled the shutters and he said, ‘And it may have some bearing on this storm you say is magical in nature.’

  ‘Say on,’ instructed Ruffio. He sat down on the chair Dilyna had used as she watched over Brendan.

  Brendan recounted what Martin and Bethany had told him of their visit to E’bar. When he got to the part of the narrative where Martin had tried to describe the magic shell surrounding the city, Ruffio asked some questions Brendan was unable to answer.

  ‘I must find your brother, then,’ said Ruffio. ‘You say he’s looking for me?’

  ‘To tell you what I’m telling you,’ said Brendan. ‘And to see if you can possibly get him to Prince Edward’s camp. Edward’s as close to a king as we have now and someone in charge needs to know what’s going on in the Grey Towers. And if Martin doesn’t find you in Krondor, he’ll be on his way to the prince. Jim Dasher made it clear that we were to keep both the Crown and the magicians at Stardock informed. It was Martin who decided to send me here to let the Conclave know what was happening.’

  ‘Smart lad, your brother,’ said Ruffio. ‘Though if you had found anyone of note, I would have heard of the situation your brother described eventually. However, your bravery in sailing here saves us time. I’ll send word to the Academy, then see if I can get your brother to Prince Edward in a timely fashion.’ He paused. ‘Are you hungry?’

  Brendan realized he hadn’t eaten in nearly two days and suddenly the idea of food was appealing. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Supper will be served in an hour. Rest until then.’

  He left the room and Brendan set about cleaning his sword with a dry towel, knowing that he’d need to bathe it quickly in fresh water and oil it to keep the metal from pitting. After a few minutes, when he was convinced he’d done as much as he could with the materials at hand, he lay back down and within minutes was asleep again.

  Brendan was awakened by the gentle shake of Dilyna’s hand on his shoulder. Blinking, he smiled and said, ‘Supper?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Please follow me.’

  They walked through a long hall that was noticeably colder than his room. A moment later, he discovered why. The outer side of the building was a series of rooms, but one large open door faced inward o
nto a huge garden. The door was currently allowing a bitter wind to gust down the hall, for while the garden was sheltered on four sides by the building, it was still taking a buffeting from the storm. Spraying water had drenched the floor, but they passed quickly by without getting more than slightly damp. They turned a corner and Dilyna led him to another opening onto the garden, but opposite it was a large hallway which connected that building to another. The centre of this building appeared to be a series of large rooms, one of which was a dining hall big enough for perhaps forty or fifty people.

  Unlike the hall at Crydee, which had an obvious head table where the duke and his nobles sat, this one had a large square of tables so that the diners could all see one another. Judging by the configuration, Brendan realized the tables could be moved and reset in various patterns to accommodate fewer or more diners at need.

  Ruffio waved him over to where he sat, next to two familiar folk. Brendan smiled at the two elves. ‘Calis! Arkan! I’m surprised to see you.’

  Calis nodded and smiled, but the dark elf, Arkan, barely acknowledged Brendan. ‘When we left with Miranda and Nakor, this was our destination,’ explained Calis.

  ‘Ah,’ said Brendan. ‘I didn’t think where you would go, beyond reaching Sarth.’

  Calis shrugged. ‘My mother was going to send another to Ylith, to inform the duke of the safe arrival of your mother and the others. I asked if I might be the one; I’m more at home in the cities than anyone else at Elvandar, save a few from across the sea, and they don’t know their way around the Kingdom as I do.’

  Arkan’s gaze narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. In the time they had been on Sorcerer’s Isle he had come to hold Calis, the alien Prince of Elvandar, in a grudging regard. He was not pure elf, not eledhel, moredhel, eldar, or taredhel. He was both elf and human and something else, and Arkan expected that ‘something’ was a legacy of his father’s carrying the mark of the Dragon Lords.

  Calis continued, ‘It’s been years since I was last in Krondor, since the war with the Emerald Queen, so I thought I might visit.’ He glanced at Arkan. ‘My friend here has other concerns, which seemed in line with things my mother might need to know, and he seems to be of the opinion that he must make contact with either Pug or his son, so here we wait.’

  Arkan nodded. ‘Indeed. We wait.’

  Brendan sat down in an empty chair next to Arkan and said to Calis, ‘Lady Bethany is on her way to see your mother.’

  ‘To what end?’

  Brendan explained what Martin had told him, and what he had already shared with Ruffio.

  Both Calis and Arkan reacted with concern. ‘We should go see for ourselves, don’t you think?’ observed Calis.

  Arkan looked unconvinced. He shook his head slightly and said, ‘I’ve seen these so-called “Star Elves”.’

  Calis said, ‘One visited for a while in Elvandar.’ He looked at the moredhel chieftain. ‘You don’t approve?’

  ‘They tend to be an arrogant lot.’

  Calis chuckled.

  ‘You find that amusing?’ asked Arkan, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Ah,’ said Calis. ‘I’ve heard the same of your … clans.’ He added, ‘I suspect much the same is said of us.’

  Arkan nodded. ‘We see those of Elvandar as having a very high opinion of themselves.’

  Calis sat back. ‘Still, this news from E’bar is more than just a little troubling. An invasion of some dark force, and the taredhel magicians confining it to the city. I’m certain my father will wish to see for himself.’

  If mention of Lord Tomas stirred a reaction in Arkan, Brendan couldn’t see it. He went on, ‘The fellow my brother spoke with, Tanderae, said something about betrayal at the highest level, the Lord Regent himself and his “meet”?’ Brendan grabbed a hunk of hot bread from a nearby platter and slathered it with butter from a small bowl.

  Arkan paused, then said, ‘From the Regent himself? What of a warrior named Kumal, their Warleader?’

  Brendan said, ‘I do not know that name. If anyone mentioned it to my brother, he failed to mention it to me.’

  Calis said, ‘You’ve met him?’

  ‘No,’ answered Arkan. ‘He came to speak with us, in Sar-Sargoth.’ He glanced around to see if the name of the city in the Northlands registered on any of the others at the table, but no one reacted.

  ‘Oh?’ said Calis.

  ‘He came to let us know we could continue to live as we liked, unless we ventured south, in which case we would be subject to taredhel rule.’

  Calis smiled. ‘I’m sure that was welcome news to those of your kin who called the Green Heart home.’

  ‘I left the meeting before the serious bloodletting occurred.’

  ‘I would certainly label the taredhel behaviour there arrogant,’ Calis said.

  ‘Have you met one?’ asked Brendan.

  ‘The one your brother mentioned, Tanderae. He seemed …’

  Arkan chuckled. ‘Arrogant?’

  ‘A little, but he also seemed sincere. I’m not surprised to discover that if there was some plot or betrayal here, he was on the other side of it. He seemed to care about his people.’

  ‘It’s what the best of us do,’ agreed Arkan. ‘We take care of our people.’

  Brendan looked around the room and found Dilyna sitting at a distant counter. He smiled at her and she shyly returned his smile, then glanced away. He also noticed a very striking blonde woman speaking with a man who wore a finely fashioned robe, but then a student came to fill his goblet with wine and others began serving meat, potatoes, greens, and boiled vegetables. Brendan was starving, but even as he ate he felt a growing sense of urgency. Was Hal still in Rillanon? Had Martin reached Prince Edward?

  Brendan was about to finish eating when a sudden scream from the courtyard cut through the sound of rain and wind. Instantly the entire dining hall was a flurry of activity.

  Brendan turned one way then another to see where everyone was rushing. He saw the attractive blonde woman and the man she was talking with come out of their seats, the woman with a mace in her hand. She also wore armour under a white tabard. Brendan realized she was a member of the Order of the Shield of the Weak, who served the goddess Dala. The rest of those in the room were magic-users of one stripe or another, save for the two elves who had left their bows leaning against the wall behind them and now had them in hand. Brendan yanked his sword out of its scabbard as he followed the rush out of the dining hall.

  The scream had come from the large garden in the next building over and even before everyone cleared the connecting hall between the two buildings, Brendan could feel something profoundly wrong in the air.

  It was a sense of evil, one that caused his stomach to turn, as if struck by an incredibly horrid stench. As he had learned in combat, he just gulped hard and focused on staying alive.

  He reached the courtyard as sizzling bolts of energy and flashes of flame were exploding all about a creature striking back with magic of its own. The water pooling in the garden seemed to come alive, lifting up and twisting into ropes of liquid, lashing out at anyone approaching.

  Brendan halted for an instant, his mind rejecting what he was seeing. The creature stood on two legs, roughly in the shape of a human, but the torso was covered in barnacles and patches of weed, leaving only a few glimpses of night-black skin exposed. The legs seemed to turn fluid at the ankles, as if the feet were constantly picking up water from the rain-saturated garden. The arms were likewise solid until the wrists, which then became massive, shimmering clubs of liquid. The head was a nightmare, with tentacles where a human’s mouth would be, an octopus-like body where the head would be, but with two large yellow eyes, one on each side. It reeked with the stench of things long dead on the ocean’s floor and it made gurgling and choking sounds like a man drowning.

  Brendan waited until it turned away and leaped in, sword extended. He struck the creature. It was like hitting the trunk of an ancient oak with a dull axe. The point slid off the creatur
e’s skin, dancing around as it snagged on then slipped off the extrusions on the hide, and shock ran up Brendan’s arm.

  He leaped back and a spray of water hit him like a massive maul, propelling him across the garden. He skidded through mud into a now-drenched flowerbed and felt small branches catch at his clothing as he slammed into the low garden wall.

  Shaking off the blow, Brendan got to his knees then rose on wobbly legs. He found the woman warrior with the mace nearby, studying the creature. The man with the neatly trimmed beard was casting a spell of some sort, then stopped. ‘I can’t! It’s not summoned.’

  ‘Damn,’ said the woman. Seeing Calis and Arkan, she shouted, ‘It’s immune to magic! Shoot!’

  An instant later both elves had nocked arrows and let loose, and two broad-headed shafts struck the creature. Arkan’s arrow managed to find an uncovered patch of skin and pierce the creature’s hide, but Calis’s merely bounced off the barnacles studding its hide.

  It howled in pain and lashed out, and the angrier it got, it sprayed water with more force. Now drenched to the skin, Brendan shouted, ‘It’s ugly as sin, but it would be a handy thing to have around the next time there’s a fire!’ He looked around, did a quick inventory and realized only the blonde warrior with her mace and he with his sword possessed hand weapons that could do damage. The elves continued firing with little effect, as the creature’s rapid twists and turns made vulnerable spots targets only for seconds.

  Brendan shouted to Ruffio. ‘No magic works on it?’

  ‘Apparently not!’ shouted back the head magician of the Conclave, drawing a belt-dagger. Brendan wasn’t entirely sure the magician knew what to do with it should the opportunity present itself.

  But watching the woman warrior was a marvel. She seemed to know exactly when to duck and move, and when to attack. She wasn’t doing much damage to the monster, but she was keeping its attention.

  Suddenly Brendan had an idea. ‘Ruffio!’ he shouted.

  ‘What?’