Rage of a Demon King (54 page)

He allowed the two men who had carried the tub inside to remove his boots for him, while the others filled it. Sitting in the hot water made Erik feel as if every ache and pain was going to fade away. He lay back a moment, then suddenly sat bolt upright as one of the servants began to wash him.

“Is anything wrong, rn’lord?”

“I’m not a lord. You can call me ‘Captain,’ and I can bathe myself,” said Erik, taking the washing cloth and soap from the man. “That will be all.”

“Shall we lay out clothing before we go?”

“Ah yes, that would be fine,” said Erik, now fully awake. The other servants left, while the one who had spoken selected clothing from the wardrobe. “Shall I fetch boots, Captain?”

“No, I’ll wear my own.”

“I’ll try to clean them before you leave, sir.” He was out the door with them before Erik could object. Erik shrugged and started washing in earnest. He had rarely had the luxury of a hot bath, and as the water cooled, he found himself reviving. He knew that as soon as supper was over, unless the Prince demanded more meetings, he was going to turn in and sleep the sleep of the dead.

Then he reconsidered that image and decided he’d sleep lightly, even with the door barred. Erik had no idea of the time, but decided he didn’t want to be late for dinner with the Prince of Krondor. He dried himself off and inspected the clothing chosen for him by the servant. The man had laid out a pair of pale yellow leggings, a light blue tunic, and a stylish cloak of very light grey, almost white. Erik decided to leave aside the cloak, and donned the hose and tunic. Just as he was finishing, the servant opened the door and said, “Your boots, Captain.”

Erik was astonished. In a few minutes the man had managed to get all the blood and filth off, and return the leather to a passable shine. “Thank you,” said Erik as he took the boots.

The servant said, “Shall I have the bathtub removed while you dine?”

“Yes,” said Erik as he donned his boots. The servant departed, and Erik ran his hand over his chin. He wished for a razor and some soap and supposed that had he asked for them, they would have been
provided, but he hadn’t, so he decided some whiskers were preferable to keeping the Prince of Krondor waiting.

He went out into the hall and went around the corner, to where he had left the council room, and found a pair of guards standing at the door to that chamber. He asked directions to the dining hall and the guard saluted and said, “Follow me, Captain.”

He did so and the man led him through a series of passages, to what Erik expected was part of the original keep, or a series of rooms added soon after, for the dining hall was surprisingly intimate. There was a square table, with room for a dozen diners aside, but the walls were only a few feet behind each of them, so if too many people attempted to move at the same time, things could become quite tangled. Erik nodded to several of the nobles he had met at Krondor and was pointedly ignored by several others who were deep in private conversations. Owen was already there and indicated he should come and sit next to him.

Erik moved around the table and saw the three seats on the right next to Greylock were empty. Greylock said, “Take this one,” indicating the seat on his left. He patted the seat on his right and said, “This is the Prince’s.”

Then Erik noticed every noble at the table was watching him and suddenly he felt embarrassed. Dukes and Earls, Barons and Squires, all were seated below him at the table. He knew that where one sat in relationship to the Prince had serious implications in matters of court intrigue, and he suddenly wished he had thought to take the chair opposite the Prince, at the farthest table on the other side of the room.

A few minutes later, the door behind them opened, and Erik turned to see Prince Patrick enter. He rose, as did the other nobles, and they all bowed their heads.

Then came Baron Manfred, their host, followed by his mother.

The Prince took his place at the center of the head table, and Manfred moved to his right hand. Mathilda moved to her chair, but when she saw Erik she said, “I will not sit at the same table as my son’s murderer!”

Manfred said, “Then, madam, you shall dine alone.” With a nod of his head, he ordered the guards to escort his mother from the hall. She turned and silently left with her escort.

Several of the nobles in attendance spoke softly to one another until the Prince pointedly cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?” he asked.

Manfred bowed his head and the Prince sat. The others followed suit.

The food was splendid and the wine was the best Erik had ever tasted, but fatigue made it hard for him to keep alert. Still, the discussions around him were all-important, for men spoke about the coming fight.

At one point someone observed that the northern flank was holding so well it might prove wise to send for some of their soldiers to reinforce Darkmoor. The Prince overheard the remark and said, “That wouldn’t be wise. We can’t assume they won’t return there in force the next day.”

Discussion around the table turned to speculation about the coming fight, and after a while, Prince Patrick said, “Captain von Darkmoor, you more than any man here have fought the enemy. What can we expect?”

Every eye in the room turned toward Erik. He glanced at Greylock, who gave him a slight nod.

Erik cleared his throat and said, “We can expect between a hundred and fifty and a hundred and seventy-five thousand soldiers to arrive outside the city walls and along the entire length of Nightmare Ridge.”

“When?” asked one richly dressed court dandy.

“Anytime,” answered Erik. “As early as tomorrow.”

The man went pale at the news and said, “Perhaps, Highness, we should call up the Army of the East. They are only camped down in the hills to the east.”

Patrick said, “The Army of the East will be called when I decide it’s time.” He glanced at Erik. “What sort of men do we face?”

Erik knew the Prince had read every report sent back by Calis on his three trips to Novindus, during his grandfather Arutha’s reign, during his uncle Nicholas’s reign, and the last time. He had also spoken to the Prince on this very subject no less than five times, so Erik knew he was asking for the benefit of those nobles in the room who were untested in battle.

Erik glanced at Greylock, who again gave him a faint nod and a slight smile. Erik knew Owen well enough to understand what he was being asked to do.

Erik cleared his throat. “Highness, the enemy is composed of what were originally mercenary companies, men who fought for pay under a hard-and-fast code of conduct. They have since been forged by murder, terror, and dark magic into a force unlike any that has waged war on the Kingdom in history.” He looked around the room and said, “Some are soldiers who have been fighting their way across half a world, from the
fall of the Westlands in Novindus to the destruction of Krondor. For twenty years they have known nothing but war, plunder, pillage and rape.” He caught the dandy’s eye. “Some of them are cannibals.”

The man went pale and seemed as if he might faint.

Erik continued. “They will come at us because they have no other option. We have destroyed their fleet behind them, and they have no food. They also number some ten to twenty thousand Saaur—we don’t know the exact number.” Some of the eastern nobles looked blank at the name. “For those who haven’t been briefed, the Saaur are lizardmen, something akin to the Pantathians, but nine feet tall. They ride war-horses twenty-five hands at the withers, and the sound of them charging is like thunder across the mountains.”

“Oh, dear gods!” said the dandy and he rose up, holding his hand over his mouth. He dashed from the room, and after a moment of silence, several of the lords in the room exploded into laughter.

The Prince laughed as well. Then after the mirth had subsided, he said, “My lords and gentlemen. Despite the levity, every word Captain von Darkmoor has uttered is true. More: if anything, he underestimates the foe.”

“What are we to do?” asked another well-dressed lord who looked as if he had never held a sword in his life.

“My lord, we will fight. Here we stand, at Darkmoor and along Nightmare Ridge. And we will not be budged, for if the enemy passes us, the Kingdom is doomed. It will be victory or death. There is no other choice.”

The room fell silent.

Drums sounded.

Trumpets blew and men ran along the walls of Darkmoor. Erik was dressed and out the door as fast as he could, racing for the council hall.

He was the third man in the room, after Patrick and Greylock, and was only there for a few moments before a half dozen other nobles came running in. Manfred entered, calmly looked around, and said, “They are here.”

No one had to ask who “they” were.

Patrick wasted no time. “Owen,” he said, “I want you and Earl Montrose to ride to the south, along the eastern ridge. Take a company and see what we have on that flank. If the entire southern reserves are gone, as reported, I need to know what the enemy brings north. Don’t engage unless you’re attacked, and then try to get back here as fast as possible. If you run into any remnants of the southern reserves, bring them back with you.”

At that moment, Arutha, Lord Vencar, and his two sons entered the room. Erik nodded.

“Arutha,” said Patrick. “Your arrival is timely. I want you to oversee the administration of the city. We’re going to lock down the gates, and we’ll need to control the consumption of food and make sure no one compromises our security by leaving or smuggling.” He turned to Manfred. “You’re in charge of the citadel, as is your right, but I will oversee the conduct of the war from these headquarters.”

Manfred nodded. “Highness.”

The Prince turned to Erik. “Erik, I want you to ride north, and oversee the northern defenses. If the south is as weak as I fear, we need to ensure we have no breaches in the north.” He looked Erik in the eyes, and said, “Unless you’re recalled, defend to the last man.”

Erik nodded. “I understand.” He didn’t wait for further orders but hurried out of the room, to the bailey, and asked for his horse, and rode out.

An hour later he was moving on one of the newly constructed roads, cut into the eastern face of the mountains, a dozen yards below the ridge line. Along the peaks above him, he could see defensive emplacements. He could tell the men were ready, as they ran, carrying supplies, shouting commands, and readying weapons. The fighting hadn’t started yet, but Erik could tell the enemy was close.

He rode as fast as he could. He studied every foot of the ridge above him as he rode past.

While the front was a hundred miles long, roughly fifty on each side of Darkmoor, the northern command post was located just twenty miles north of the city. Erik reached it by midday.

Jadow Shati stood outside a small command tent, obviously distressed, with a short man wearing the tabard of Loriél. When Erik entered the camp, Jadow said, “Man, I am glad to see you.”

Handing the reins of his horse to a soldier, Erik said, “Why?”

Jadow indicated the other man with a nod of his head.

The short man, who had a square head, short-cropped grey hair, and a square jaw, said, “Who the hell are you?”

Erik realized that he had dressed in his blue tunic and yellow leggings, and had left his uniform back in Castle Darkmoor. Quickly sizing up the short man, Erik said, “I’m your commander. Who the hell are you?”

The man blinked. “I’m the Earl of Loriél!” Then he lowered his voice. “And you are?”

“Knight-Captain von Darkmoor, of the Prince’s Special Command, and I’m to command the northern flank.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that,” said the man, his face growing florid. “I’m sworn vassal to the Duke of Yabon, and I’ll take orders from the Prince of Krondor, but this special army and you jumped-up boy officers are more than I can stomach! I’ll be down to Darkmoor to talk to the Prince himself.”

“My lord,” said Erik in a soft but firm tone.

“What?”

“Have a nice ride.”

After the man left, Jadow burst out laughing. “Man, that little fellow is about as pleasant as a boil on the ass. I hope he stays away for a month.”

“Well, given the mood our Prince was in when I left, I suspect his lordship will find little sympathy for his protests. Now, what’s the situation?”

“As best I can judge, we have about six companies intact north of here, with ample supplies down at the bottom of the ridge. Some of the boys are pretty beat up, lads who were fighting along the northern front for the last month, but there are some fresh reserves, so overall we’re in good shape. The bad news is we’re facing Duko.”

“I’ve heard of him. What do we know?”

“Not much. Rumors. A few things we’ve learned from captives. He’s smart, has survived where some others, like Gapi, haven’t, and he’s still able to command a large contingency. Man, I don’t know. If I was to guess, I think he’s the best they’ve got after Fadawah.”

“Well then,” said Erik, “I guess we have our work cut out for us.”

Jadow grinned. “The nice part is we’re where they want to be, and they’re not.”

“You have a happy facility to put things in perspective,” said Erik.

Jadow asked, “What are the orders?”

“Simple. Kill anyone who comes up that slope.”

“I like simple,” said the former mercenary from the Vale of Dreams. “I’m tired of this moving backward.”

“No more of that,” said Erik. “From this point on, if we move backward, we’ve lost.”

“Well,” said Jadow, “we must make sure we don’t move backward.”

Erik said, “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

A trumpet sounded and Jadow said, “Seems they’re coming.”

Erik drew his sword. “Then let’s greet them.”

As they climbed the slope to the ridge line, Erik said, “Who else is on this flank?”

“Your old friend Alfred. He’s got a company to the north of this one, and then Harper, and Jerome, who’s anchoring the end of the line. Turner is to our south, Frazer after him, then it’s the Prince’s command at the city.”

Erik smiled. “With sergeants like that, how can we lose?” Jadow grinned. “How, indeed?”

Erik looked down the western slope, below the ridge line, and said, “A lot of men are about to die over twenty yards of dirt.”

Jadow said, “That’s the truth. But if what Captain Calis told us, on that beach in Novindus, is true, it’s a pretty important twenty yards.”

Erik said, “No doubt about it.” He turned and looked down the slope at the men climbing toward him. The archers started firing and Erik could feel the tension in his shoulders as he waited for the first man to close, so he could engage the enemy and get this matter over with.

Then, as if men sprang from the ground, a sea of attackers appeared before him. Erik began to fight.

Pug frowned. “Unlock the Lifestone? How do you propose to do that?”

“What does it mean?” asked Tomas, looking at his son. “Does that release the Valheru?”

Calis shook his head. He sighed, as if very tired. “I’m not sure I can answer either question. I don’t know how to unlock the forces inside this thing.” He pointed at the pulsing green stone, with the golden sword protruding from it. “I just know that once I begin, I should be able to manipulate the energies within.”

“How do you know this?” asked Nakor.

Calis smiled at him and said, “As you are so fond of saying, ‘I just know.’ But once I’ve begun, I may not be able to stop, so I want to be certain I’m doing the correct thing.” He pointed at the stone. “This is something that never should have been allowed.”

Tomas rubbed his chin. “Ashen-Shugar said basically the same thing to Draken-Korin.”

“This is what caused the Chaos Wars,” said Nakor.

All eyes turned to him. Tomas asked, “How can you be certain?”

“Think about it. You have a Valheru’s memory. Why was the Lifestone created?”

Tomas let his mind drift back, recalling memories he had first experienced fifty years before, but memories that originated with a being ages dead. Suddenly the memories washed over him.

A call came. Ashen-Shugar sat alone in his hall, deep below the mountains. His mount, the golden dragon Shuruga, lay curled in sleep below the huge vertical shaft that gave him access to Midkemian skies.

It was a strange call, unlike any he had heard before. It was a summoning, but one without the bloodlust that drew the Dragon Host together to fly across the stars for pillage and plunder. In his hall, Ashen-Shugar had found himself changing, as another presence, a being named Tomas, had come to him, in thought, from a distant place. By his nature, he should have felt outrage, a murderous reaction to the presence in his mind, yet this being, Tomas, seemed to be a part of him, as natural as his left hand.

With a mental command he woke Shuruga, and leaped upon the back of the great beast. The dragon jumped upward and with mighty wings beat for the sky, heading out of the mountain hold that was the domain of the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches.

Eastward he flew above the range of mountains that would someday be known as the Grey Towers, and over another range that would be called the Calastius Mountains, to a vast plain, upon which the race met. He was the last to arrive.

He circled Shuruga and ordered the great dragon to descend. Each Valheru waited as the mightiest among them touched down. In the center of the circle stood a figure resplendent in black and orange armor, Draken-Korin, who called himself the Lord of Tigers. Two of his creatures, tigers bred by magic to walk upright and speak, stood on either hand, snarling, their powerful arms crossed. They were objects of indifference to the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, for despite their fierce appearance, these lesser creatures were of no danger to a Valheru.

By common opinion, Draken-Korin was the strangest of the race. He had ideas of new things. No one knew from where those ideas came, but he was obsessed by them.

Tomas blinked. “Draken-Korin! He was
different
!”

Nakor asked, “Have you never wondered why?”

Tomas said, “No. I mean, Ashen-Shugar never wondered why.”

Nakor said, “The Valheru appear to be a race with a surprising lack of curiosity. Anyway, what do you remember?”

“I remember being summoned.”

“For what?” asked Pug.

Tomas said, “Draken-Korin summoned the race, and he proclaimed that the order of the universe was changing. The old gods, Rathar and Mythar, had fled . . .” Tomas’s eyes widened. “He said, ‘
or have been deposed
’!”

“Deposed?” said Miranda.

“By the Controller Gods!” said Dominic.

“Wait!” said Tomas. “Let me remember!” He closed his eyes.

“. . . but for whatever cause, Order and Chaos have no more meaning. Mythar let loose the strands of power and from them the new gods arise,” said Draken-Korin. Ashen-Shugar studied the one who was his brother-son, and saw something in his eyes, something that he now realized was madness. “Without Rathar to knit the strands of power together, these beings will seize the power and establish an order. It is an order we must oppose. These gods are knowing, are aware, and are challenging us.”

“When one appears, kill it,” answered Ashen-Shugar, unconcerned by Draken-Korin’s words.

Draken-Korin turned to face his brother-father, and said, “They are our match in power. For the moment they struggle among themselves, seeking each dominion over the others as they strive to gain mastery of that power left by the Two Blind Gods of the Beginning. But that struggle will end, and then shall our existence be threatened. They
will
turn their might upon us.”

Ashen-Shugar said, “What cause for concern? We fight as we have before. That is the answer.”

“No, there needs be more. We must fight them in harmony, not each alone, lest they overwhelm us.”

Ashen-Shugar said, “Do what you will. I will have none of it.” He mounted Shuruga and flew home.

Tomas said, “I never dreamed.”

“What?” asked Pug.

Looking at Miranda, Tomas said, “Your father knew! He wasn’t just creating a weapon to balk the Tsurani conquest or even to stem the return of the Dragon Host to Midkemia, he was preparing us for this fight!”

“Explain, please,” said Nakor.

“Something changed Draken-Korin,” said Tomas. “He was mad by the standards of his own race. He had these strange notions and odd compulsions. He was the driving force behind the creation of the Lifestone. He masterminded the race’s vesting its powers in that crystal.”

“No,” said Calis quietly. “He was a tool. Something else was the mastermind.”

“Who?”

“Not who,” said Nakor. “What?”

All eyes turned toward the strange little man. “What do you mean?” asked Pug.

Nakor said, “In each of you, something is locked away.” He moved his hand in an arc, and a golden nimbus of light sprang up, washing the room. Pug’s eyes widened, for while he knew that Nakor had far more power than he ever admitted to, this shell of protection was something beyond Pug’s experience. He recognized it for what it was, but had no idea how the little man could so effortlessly create it.

Miranda asked, “Who are you?”

Nakor grinned. “Just a man, as I have said many times.”

“But you are more,” Dominic said flatly.

Nakor shrugged. “I am also a tool, in a sense.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Several of you have heard me speak of my life, before, and all I told you is true. When I was a child, powers came to me and my father threw me out of the village for my pranks. I traveled and learned, and have been much as you see me now for most of my life.

“I met a woman named Jorna, whom I thought I loved—young men often think physical hunger is love—and in my vanity thought she loved me; we also can rationalize anything when it suits our purposes. Look at me!” He smiled. “A young and beautiful woman falling under my charms?” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was left a wiser if sadder man.” He looked at Miranda. “You know what came next. Your mother came looking for someone who could teach her more than I, for as I have always said, I am but a man who knows a few tricks.”

Miranda asked, “Why do I get the feeling you may be the only person on this planet who would use that description?”

“Be that as it may,” continued Nakor, “Jorna became Macros’s wife, and I became a traveler.” He looked around the room. “My life changed one day when I slept in a burned-out shack on the side of the hills in Isalani. I had always had the ability to do tricks, little things, but that night I dreamed, and in my dream I was told to seek out something.”