A Kingdom Besieged

by Raymond E. Feist

  The flyer scrambled backward, still dazed, and as Child overpowered the male, the flyer leapt to the skies, speeding away as quickly as his wings would enable him.

  Child tore out the male’s throat then turned to Belog. ‘Feast, but harbour your energies well. Master your hunger and feed your mind. Leave your body as it is.’

  He fell to and began to devour the huge dead demon. Her instructions were clear but it took all his conscious effort not to let his body grow, not to build more muscle and sinew, but rather to feed only his intellect. Only his training as an Archivist kept his feeding frenzy under control.

  Now Child devoured the magic-users, eating their brains first while their knowledge of magic still lingered. When she finished, she lingered over their bodies.

  When the orgy of feeding was over Child stood and looked around. ‘What a wretched place, indeed.’ Turning to the portal only she had been able to see, she said, ‘Do you perceive it now?’

  Belog stood and she noticed his posture had changed, as if somehow his mind had made a shift to a new set of memories, habits, and inclinations, so that even the act of walking had become different.

  He grinned. ‘Ah, now I do.’

  She reached out to him. ‘Take my hand.’

  She led him into what looked like a step from one place to another.

  And suddenly they were somewhere else. It was a long road, wide enough for a decent-sized caravan to travel, but on all sides a grey nothingness spread out. Every so often on either side, portals were present.

  ‘Where is this place?’ asked Belog.

  She did not answer his question but merely pointed and said, ‘That way.’

  She led him down the Hall of Worlds.

  Pug regarded Nazir with a cold stare. ‘You live only because of Sandreena’s guarantee of safe conduct, and as we agreed on the beach, if I hear truth from you, I will grant you safe conduct away from this island. After that you’ll be hunted.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said the leader of the Nighthawks. ‘I’ve spoken to your friend about the history of my brotherhood; should you care to know it, she will convey it to you.’ He nodded to Sandreena, who stood quietly in the corner, just behind Pug’s seat. In another corner, Amirantha observed without comment.

  ‘Let me begin here by saying that more than a century ago, there arose within the Nighthawks a faction that became embroiled with a cult of demon worshippers. Promises were made and in the main they were delivered, so more and more of the Brotherhood of Assassins fell under their sway. Those of us who did not, let us say we saw how the wind blew and kept our concerns to ourselves.

  ‘Given your legendary reputation, Pug of Sorcerer’s Isle, I have no doubt you’re well aware of the events that took place over a hundred years ago in that very fortress where you destroyed the demon gate recently. That was the first attempt at a summoning of a demon lord.’ He stopped. ‘There is much to say. Might I have some wine?’

  Pug said, ‘Bring water,’ and sat back.

  Nazir shrugged as if it were of no importance. ‘What none of my brethren knew was that those in league with the demons were using them, giving them small gifts in exchange for blindly following orders. That fellow you called Jimmy the Hand, who later became Lord James, he nearly single-handedly destroyed us with his meddling in our first summoning, but while he set back that faction and harmed the Nighthawks severely, he also served the demons.’

  ‘How?’ asked Pug, now genuinely curious.

  ‘He gave the demon faction an excuse. There were things those in the Nighthawks not already serving the demons wanted: powerful magic, devices of great art, things to raise up the Brotherhood until empires trembled at our name, but now we had an enemy, a talented, insidious enemy, Lord James and his agents. It gave us a unifying motive: a common enemy.

  ‘For decades James and his intelligence service were our excuse when we met with failure. And most of the Brotherhood accepted this: all our success was ascribed to our demonic benefactor; all failure to Kingdom spies, Keshian spies as well, and later spies from Roldem. But there were enough victories – gold, blood, women – to keep the Brotherhood from turning their backs completely on the demon cult. But slowly the demon servants again rose to dominate the Brotherhood. And they provided us with much.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘The usual. Wealth, power, influence.’ Nazir shrugged.

  A tray was brought in and he was given a mug of cold water. He drank deeply, obviously thirsty, then nodded and Magnus refilled his mug.

  ‘Where was I? Oh, yes, the demon cult came again into the ascendancy, and those of us who treasured our family traditions went deeper underground. But there came a moment when several of us, myself especially, had to be convinced by the demon worshippers to lend our support to that monstrous undertaking you so wonderfully ruined down in Kesh. It took all our considerable wealth and calling in most of the favours owed us by others.’

  ‘Favours?’ asked Magnus.

  ‘An official who marked down a shipment of tools heading to our camp as farm implements; workers gathered by slavers – though you freed most of them. We also needed safe passage through the desert to the Valley of Lost Men, which meant knowing when patrols were due out of the local garrisons; that sort of thing.

  ‘I agreed to the demon cult’s request, but only if I were to know the real reason behind all this insanity.’ He took another drink of water.

  ‘Continue,’ prodded Pug.

  ‘I loved many of my brethren among the demon cult, seeing them as no more or less misguided than that lovely woman who escorted us here—’ he indicated Sandreena who gave him a sour look. ‘To give over your entire life to one thing is to deny yourself so many other pleasures.’ He shrugged. ‘But people do as they do. That is when I was told a story, and it is for that story I will expect my freedom.’

  ‘You have been promised your safe passage anywhere we can take you.’

  Suddenly Nazir smiled. ‘I think I need more than that.’

  Pug came out of his chair. ‘What?’

  ‘It occurs to me that your Conclave of Shadows has cost me and my brotherhood dearly, Pug. It is not enough we just be deposited somewhere quiet. We need a few things to make our life bearable.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Gold, enough to buy comfort and security.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘A hundred thousand Kingdom sovereigns would be sufficient, I imagine.’

  Pug sat back down. ‘I’m sure. Where would you expect us to get a sum like that? That’s taxes in the Western Realm for ten years.’

  ‘You have the largest group of magic-users in the world, Pug. Someone must be able to find gold with a spell or turn base metal into gold, or just create something to sell for gold.’

  Pug looked as if he had tasted something bitter. ‘And if we don’t comply?’

  ‘You can kill me now if that is your pleasure. It is not import ant, because you and I need one another.’ Nazir smiled like a gambling man whose winning card has been dealt. ‘I’ll amend my demands, then. If we survive, then you’ll pay me.’

  ‘Survive?’ asked Magnus.

  Nazir looked at Pug’s son. ‘My friend, what I know is simple. There is something out there which makes the Demon Kings tremble. It puts fear into the very gods themselves, and if you do not defeat its purposes, then all here is lost anyway, and dead with gold is no better than dead without gold. Dead is dead.’

  ‘What is this thing they fear?’ asked Pug.

  ‘They call it the Darkness.’

  Pug sat back and the blood drained from his face. He remembered a time when he had heard that phrase, but in the Tsurani tongue, and he knew what it had meant at that time. The mad Pantathian Serpent Priests had sought to bring into this sphere of reality their lost ‘goddess’ the Dragon Lord Alma-Lodaka, she who had created them. What they actually brought in was the disembodied essence of another, by the name of DrakenKorin, the Lord of Tigers, who was defeated by Tomas at th
e battle beneath the city of Sethanon. But even more unexpected had been the appearance of a Dreadlord, who had battled with the great dragon who had become the Oracle of Aal.

  Calmly Pug said, ‘If we survive, I’ll pay your price. You have my word.’

  Magnus looked at his father with surprise, but said nothing.

  Nazir said, ‘Then know this. The father of all irony is that Dahun sought to sneak into this world in the guise of the mad magician Belasco. You and his brother—’ he indicated Amirantha, ‘saw through the ruse and destroyed both of them. But Dahun did not come here as a conqueror. He came as a supplicant, to seek out the most powerful magic-users in this realm.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘He was going to ask them for help.’ He laughed. ‘He wanted to beg you for protection, Pug. For the Darkness was day by day destroying his world.’

  Pug cried, ‘Amirantha! Get that book.’

  The warlock didn’t need to be asked which book it was Pug wanted. He hurried to his quarters where he found Gulamendis poring over the very tome. Unceremoniously he pulled the massive volume off the table and said, ‘Come along. You’ll want to hear this.’

  They both returned in haste to Pug’s quarters, and Amirantha laid the book down. It was the Libri Demonicus Amplus Tantus, literally the Really Big Demon Book. It was both large in size and vast in scope. As bad as some of the scholarship in it was, some parts were brilliant and accurate. The trick had been puzzling out which was which.

  ‘The map,’ Pug said, and Amirantha set about unfolding the huge map that was attached to the book, glued inside the front cover. Amirantha laid it out and everyone in the room looked down on it.

  The map was laid out as if the demon realm were a massive disc, with a large circle in the middle. In the ancient Quegan dialect employed to write this tome were the words Ater Irritius.

  ‘There,’ pointed Nazir, his finger stabbing the centre of the map. ‘That is what they fear.’

  Amirantha said, ‘We translated that to mean “void”.’

  ‘It may,’ said Nazir. ‘I speak no Quegan, modern or ancient, but they call it “Darkness”.’

  It was Pug who said, ‘It means both. And now I understand fully . . .’

  Before he could speak again, Nazir said, ‘What is this?’ his finger circled the edge of the void.

  Amirantha said, ‘The Demon Kingdoms, from what we can translate. There seems to be a group in a ring about this void, called the First Kingdoms, then around that a second ring, called the Second Kingdoms. Then come the Savage Kingdoms, and around the edge what is called the Mad Lands.’

  ‘Well, it’s an old map,’ said Nazir. ‘Because Dahun’s kingdom is being devoured by the Darkness.’ He looked at Pug. ‘There aren’t any First Kingdoms. They are all gone.’

  Pug closed his eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. To Sandreena he said, ‘If you don’t mind, escort Nazir back to his room and have someone keep an eye on him. Then please return. I’m going to need to send messages to your temple and the others.’

  After Nazir was gone, Magnus said, ‘What is it, Father?’

  Pug sighed. ‘All the signs were there. All the way back to the Riftwar when Tomas and I were looking for your grandfather. Right up to the struggle with the Dasati, the capture and imprisonment of their gods, the false Death God and . . . It’s the Dread. They’re destroying the demon realm and seeking a way back here.’

  A silence fell over the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three Arrival

  THE HORSE STUMBLED.

  Martin almost lost his balance and forced himself awake. ‘We’re almost there,’ he heard Bethany say. At her side rode Brendan.

  Martin glanced at both of them and said, ‘Sorry.’

  Bethany said, ‘You’ve been without rest for most of a week, Martin. It’s no wonder you’re falling asleep in the saddle.’

  They were coming down out of the foothills on the road to Ylith. They had passed one outpost already manned by local militia who looked barely able to hold their pikes, let alone use them effectively. When challenged he had merely answered they were ‘the muster from Crydee’, and they had ridden past without pause, the sentries showing no inclination to challenge them any further.

  Riding slowly by the makeshift barricades – two long lines of overturned wagons, covered with sandbags and hay bales lashed down with tarps – Martin could barely repress a shudder. The design was basic, two lines from opposite sides of the road, forming an ‘S’ in the road that a rider could walk his mount through while a galloping rider would be unable to navigate it. Some would-be military genius in this lot had decided not to block the entire road, in case someone needed to pass by. Sound logic, until one realized that the Keshians would merely pull up, start shooting arrows until the defenders fled, then quietly ride past at a slow posting trot.

  The three days since encountering Brendan and the men had been sombre ones. Both brothers were mourning the loss of their father and fearful for the fate of their mother. They prayed the women had reached Elvandar and were under the protection of the Elf Queen and Lord Tomas.

  As they reached the heights above the city they could see the situation. Kingdom ships were mostly absent, save for a few luggers, fishing boats and some small ferries, all nestled against the docks or anchored close in. Out to the south some sails could be seen on the horizon but Martin didn’t know if they were Kingdom, Keshian, or Quegan.

  When they arrived at the North Gate they found it closed and barred. From above a sentry called down, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Martin of Crydee,’ he shouted back, ‘with the Crydee Muster. Open the bloody gates!’

  The gates opened a moment later and Martin signalled for his column to ride in. When he had cleared the gate he turned to the nearest guardsman, a boy barely in his teens, and asked, ‘Where’s the officer in charge?’

  ‘Of the gate? There isn’t one, sir.’

  ‘Of the city, then?’

  ‘Oh, that would be the captain. He’s up at the mayor’s house, having tea, or else he’s up at the Baron’s castle on the hill over there.’ He pointed in a vaguely north-westerly direction. Glancing around, the soldier lowered his voice. ‘It’s almost certain he’s at the mayor’s, sir; the mayor, he’s got a lovely daughter.’

  Martin looked as if he had found himself in a bad dream. ‘Just tell me how to get there.’

  Directions were given. Then Martin asked, ‘What is this captain’s name?’

  ‘Bolton, sir.’

  ‘See that the men are directed to the stables. I want the horses cared for and food for them.’

  Sir?’ He looked confused.

  ‘I said I want my men and horses cared for. Is that too hard to understand?’

  ‘No, I mean it’s not, sir, but it’s just that—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know who’s supposed to care for that sort of thing, the horses and men, sir.’

  Martin looked ready to explode. Brendan interrupted. ‘Where’s the quartermaster?’

  ‘There isn’t one, sir,’ said the boy. ‘I mean, there is, but he’s not here.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Gone, sir, with the Duke.’

  ‘The Duke of Yabon?’

  ‘Yes, sir. He, the Baron of Ylith, Baron of Zun, Earl of LaMut, with the entire army of Yabon; they were all here and then they travelled on.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To Krondor, sir. They’ve all gone to meet with the Prince in Krondor.’

  Suddenly all Martin’s fatigue evaporated. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Tommy, sir.’

  ‘You’re now Corporal Tommy.’

  The boy blinked in surprise.

  ‘There’s no enemy coming down that road for at least two or three days. I want you to get these boys off the wall and help my men find shelter for our mounts. If there’s no garrison stable in town, find what you can, then lead the rest up to the Baron’s castle. Tell whoever is up there to take care of my men. If t
he Baron’s gone south, the barracks are empty. I want my men fed and if there’s a healer left in this city, find him and send him along.’

  The newly-minted corporal hesitated, then ran to the wall and shouted for the others to come down. The column from Crydee continued to enter through the city gates. It was clearly going to get crowded in a hurry if those entering weren’t given somewhere else to go.

  Corporal Tommy ran to the first boys coming down the stairs, shouted instructions and pointed and they came over to lead away a squad of riders.

  The two sergeants moved to either side of the entering column and quickly order was restored as more men of the city came to direct those entering.

  Martin shook his head. How was he going to defend this? He looked at Brendan and Bethany and said, ‘Let’s go find this captain.’ He turned without seeing if he was being following and rode into the city. Shouting ‘Make way!’ he forced his exhausted mount into one last run towards the building described by the boy.

  Reaching it, he encountered a closed gate in the middle of a low wall, beyond which he could see a very elegant building, the mayor’s home. Using the pommel of his sword he banged on a closed gate. When it opened, Martin pushed past an astonished-looking porter, who leapt aside. Brendan and Bethany followed. Martin tossed the reins of his mount to a lackey and told him, ‘Water him but not too much too quickly. Then if you have grain, feed him a handful, no more.’ He crossed the small courtyard and ran up a wide set of steps to the house.

  As he had expected there were no guards, just servants. The porter who had answered the gate ran after him shouting, ‘Who should I say is calling, sir?’

  Martin ignored the man and pushed open the main door. A maid shrieked at seeing a man in fighting togs covered in road-dirt enter unannounced. ‘Keshians!’ she screamed and ran.

  This had the desired result of calling the attention of the entire household to the fact that Martin was on the premises. From a door at the end of the hall two men appeared, one in fine clothing and the other in the uniform of Zun, a wolf’s head on a blue tabard. As they approached the man in the uniform began to draw his sword but before he could get it free of the scabbard, Martin stepped forward, grabbed his wrist and forced the blade back. ‘Don’t!’ he snapped as Brendan and Bethany caught up.