Rage of a Demon King (59 page)

Pug said, “There are still mysteries, but we have to put them aside for a while.”

Calis nodded. “There is but one thing we need to do now.”

“What’s that?” said Miranda.

Calis’s expression turned somber. “We must stop a war.”

A battle raged.

It was a scene from hell, as men seethed in the city streets under torchlight. The castle had held until nightfall, but the enemy hadn’t withdrawn under cover of darkness. It was obvious to Erik that a change in command had taken place, for though he was facing the same motley mercenaries he had faced since the war began; now they were acting in coordination, using their numbers to good effect, and grinding down the defenders.

Erik directed his men along the southern wall of the keep, as the invaders attempted to fill the moat with anything that would give them a means of reaching the wall. Furniture, broken wagons, dirt, anything they could find was being thrown into the water.

The defenders were shooting as many arrows as humanly possible, but the attack was unrelenting.

Manfred peered over the wall at the sea of humanity, thousands of soldiers pressing toward the ancient keep. “This hardly looks good,” he said.

“You have a knack for understatement,” said Erik. He put his hand on Manfred’s shoulders, pushing down slightly.

Manfred ducked as some rocks thrown by slingers on the roofs of the buildings on the other side of the moat whizzed by.

“How do you do that?” asked Manfred.

“Do what?”

“Know when to duck?”

Erik smiled. “I saw the slingers crawling on the roof at sundown. I’ve been keeping an eye on them. It gets to be a habit.”

“If you live long enough.”

Erik said, “What sort of shape are we in?”

“I just told the Prince that if we can keep them from getting ladders to the wall, we should hold until morning without much difficulty. The tricky part is going to be getting to the eastern gate to admit the Armies of the East.”

Erik said, “I told Patrick I’d lead a sally at dawn.”

Manfred laughed. “So did I.”

“You can’t,” said Erik.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the Baron and I’m just a . . .”

“Bastard?”

“Yes.”

Manfred said, “But you have a wife and I don’t.”

Erik said, “That means nothing,” and he knew the words sounded just as hollow to Manfred’s ears as they did to his own.

“You’ll have to come up with a better argument than that,” said Manfred.

“How about you’re a noble and I’m not? You have people depending on you?”

“And you don’t?” said Manfred. “Besides, doesn’t a Knight-Captain in the Prince’s Army carry the office of Court Baron with it?”

“That’s different. I don’t have estates and tenants who depend on my protection. I don’t have to administer justice or sort out legal wrangles the courts can’t solve. I don’t have cities and towns, villages and . . . It’s not the same!”

Manfred smiled. “Are you
sure
you wouldn’t rather be Baron?”

Erik said, “You have Father’s title!”

“There is that.” Manfred glanced over the wall again and said, “Is there no end to them?”

Erik said, “Not that you’d notice.”

For a moment, they rested, crouching behind the wall. Erik said, “How is it you never married? I thought the Duke of Ran had someone in mind for you.”

Manfred laughed. “The lady came to visit and I think I failed to impress her.”

Erik said, “I find that hard to believe.”

Manfred looked at his half brother. “I thought you might deduce it, but obviously not.” He glanced around, making sure no one was climbing over the wall. “When you have a mother like mine, it tends to distort your opinion of women. Stefan liked to hurt them. I prefer to avoid them.”

Erik said, “Oh.”

Manfred laughed. “If we survive, I’ll tell you what. You can do me a service. I’ll marry some prize the Prince picks for me, and you can father the next heir to the Barony of Darkmoor. It’ll be our secret,
and I suspect the lady in question will thank me for sending you to her bedchamber.”

Erik laughed as a flight of arrows sped overhead. “I don’t think my wife would approve.” Then he said, “There’s something you should remember.”

“What?” asked Manfred.

“You have a nephew.”

Manfred closed his eyes a moment, then said, “I had conveniently put that out of my mind.”

Erik said, “Well, you may have, but Rosalyn’s child is Stefan’s son.”

“Is there no doubt? Is it certain?”

Erik said, “Just one look. He’s a von Darkmoor.”

Manfred said, “Well, that changes things.”

“How?” asked Erik.

“For certain one of us must survive, else the lad will be left to Mother’s tender mercies.”

Erik laughed. “Only if you tell her.”

“Oh, she’ll find out, eventually. Mother may be crazy, but she’s well connected and enjoys her intrigues.” He lowered his voice, as if someone might overhear. “There are moments I think Father’s seizures were Mother’s doing.”

“You think she poisoned him?”

Manfred said, “Sometime get me to tell you Mother’s family history. Poison played a large role in her great-grandfather’s rise to his title.”

A huge boulder slammed into the citadel then, rocking the outer keep wall. “Well,” said Manfred as he brushed off the dust, “seems our guests have found a catapult.”

Erik glanced over and saw the war engine had been dragged out into the middle of High Street. He motioned for a soldier and said, “Get word to
Sergeant Jadow to have that catapult taken care of.” Another boulder came slamming into the wall, and the soldiers in the street beyond the moat let out a cheer. “Fast!”

The soldier ran into the keep. Manfred said, “It’s pretty straightforward, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“They knock a hole in the wall, fill up the moat with whatever they can throw in, and come swarming over.”

Erik said, “Basically.”

“Well, let’s make it interesting,” said Manfred. He signaled to another of his soldiers, and said, “Tell Sergeant Macafee to release the oil.”

The soldier ran off. Erik said, “Going to fire the moat?”

“Why not?” said Manfred.

Erik sat back. “How long can you keep the oil burning on the moat?”

“Three, four hours.”

Another boulder slammed into the wall, and Erik said, “Jadow!”

As if hearing Erik’s voice, a catapult atop the central keep fired, releasing half a dozen barrels of oil. They came crashing down around the catapult in the street, drenching the machine and its crew.

The enemy catapult crew began to run. The oil spreading in the street quickly reached one of the many fires nearby, and suddenly the war engine was ablaze. Erik’s men on the walls of the citadel let out a cheer.

Erik said, “Well, that’s that.”

Manfred said, “When the oil in the moat is burned out, they’ll start filling it in again.”

“That will keep them out until sunrise, though.”

“Yes,” said Manfred. “But it still doesn’t solve one problem.”

The half brothers looked at each other and at the same moment they both said, “The eastern gate.”

*   *   *

Pug said, “Rejuvenation is all fine and wonderful, but I’m tired.”

Tomas said, “I feel I need to sleep.”

Calis said, “Men are dying.”

Tomas looked at his son and said, “I know. Even though the Lifestone is no more, there’s a very large army attempting to sack Darkmoor.”

Calis said, “Even if he’s free now of the demon’s control, by reputation Fadawah is not one to just quit and quietly withdraw.” He sighed. “Only we in this room and a few others know of the real stakes, but now we have a cunning, dangerous leader who still has most of his army intact, and he controls most of the Western Realm.”

Pug said, “This won’t end quickly.”

Miranda said, “At least we can get the Saaur out of the war.”

Pug said, “If I can convince them what Hanam told me was true.”

Tomas said, “We can only try.”

“How do we get there?” asked Nakor.

“We don’t,” said Pug. “Tomas and I will go to Darkmoor. Unless we end this battle, there’s no reason to take the rest of you into harm’s way.”

Calis said, “Remember, I’m the Prince’s man.”

Miranda said, “And you’re not leaving me here.”

Nakor motioned to Sho Pi, and Dominic, then grinned and shrugged. “Us too.”

Pug’s eyes widened, and he let out a slightly exasperated breath. “Very well. Gather around.”

Miranda turned to the leader of the Oracle’s servants and said, “Thank you for your help.”

The old man bowed and said, “No, we thank you for saving us.”

Miranda hurried to Pug’s side, and the magician said, “Hold on.”

They all held hands and suddenly they were standing in the courtyard of Villa Beata at Sorcerer’s Island. “This isn’t Darkmoor,” said Miranda.

“No,” said Pug. “I’ve never been to Darkmoor. So unless you want to materialize in the middle of the battle or inside a stone wall, you’ll give me an hour.”

Gathis hurried out of the house and welcomed them. “Hot food will be ready shortly,” he said, ushering them inside.

Tomas took aside Pug and said, “Is this where you live?”

“Most of the time,” said Pug.

Looking around the lovely estate, with the soft summer breeze from the ocean blowing across the meadows, he said, “I should have visited you a long time ago.”

Pug said, “We’ve changed. Until this morning, you could not bring yourself to leave Elvandar.”

Tomas said, “We’ve both lost a great deal. Even though my parents were fortunate and lived long lives, everyone else we knew as boys in Crydee has long since passed. But you, to have lost your children . . .”

Pug nodded. “I sensed over the last dozen years or so that I would outlive both of them, as Gamina and William aged and I didn’t.” Pug looked down at
the ground, and was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said, “Even though I expected it, the pain is still very real. I’ll never see my children again.”

Tomas said, “I think I understand.”

The two old friends stood quietly for a time, and Pug remained motionless. Then Pug looked up at the stars. “It’s such a vast universe. Sometimes I feel so insignificant.”

“If what Nakor suspects about the nature of that universe is correct, we are, all of us, at once insignificant and important.”

Pug laughed. “Only Nakor could come up with that.”

Tomas said, “You’ve known him awhile. What do you make of him?”

Pug put his hand on his friend’s arm and led him to the house. “I’ll tell you while I work on getting us to Darkmoor. He’s either the biggest confidence man in history or the most brilliant and original mind I’ve ever encountered.”

Tomas said, “Or both?”

Pug laughed. “Or both,” he agreed as they entered the house.

*   *   *

Pug moved his hands in a circle and a huge sphere of bluish light, shimmering with golden highlights, appeared. Taller than a man, it was as wide as a six-passenger coach. “What is it?” asked Miranda.

“It’s what is going to take us to Darkmoor,” Pug said. “I don’t know enough about Darkmoor to get us anywhere safely within sight of the city. If I don’t have a pattern to fix on, a location I know well enough, well, let’s just say it’s too dangerous.”

“I know the procedure,” said Miranda. “I thought we were coming here to get one of those Tsurani devices.”

“No good,” said Nakor, taking his out of his bag, “unless you’ve got it set for a place known to you.” He shook it. “If it still works.”

He laid the device aside.

Nakor grinned. “I’ll fly with you in your bubble.”

“How do we get in?” asked Miranda.

“Just step inside,” said Pug, and did so.

They followed him. “I had to dig up the spell to make this thing, but once I remembered how to do it”—he waved his hands, and the sphere lifted off the ground—“it’s easy.”

Gathis waved good-bye as the four friends flew high above the roof of the estate, and the sphere turned on a long, curving flight toward Krondor. “It’s easier if I follow landmarks I know, like the King’s Highway.”

“How long to get to Darkmoor?” asked Calis.

“We’ll arrive a little after dawn,” said Pug.

They sped across the sea, a hundred feet above the tops of the whitecaps. As the last of Midkemia’s three moons sank into the west, the predawn sky to the east lightened. A breeze blew, but they were comfortable inside the sphere. They stood in a circle, each with just enough room to move slightly.

Miranda said, “It would be nice if we could sit.”

Pug said, “After this is done, I’ll happily loan you the volume from which I got this spell, and if you can modify it to put seats in it, feel free.”

Nakor laughed.

“How fast are we going?” asked Tomas.

“As fast as the fastest bird,” said Pug. “We should be over Krondor in an hour.”

The time passed, and they watched the sky turn from jet black to dark grey. As morning approached, they could see the spindrift on the tops of the waves below, grey upon grey as the sea churned beneath them. “Are you sure that demon is dead?” asked Nakor.

Pug said, “He’s dead. Water is anathema to his kind. He was powerful enough to withstand it for a while, but not from that depth with the wounds Tomas gave him.”

“Look,” said Miranda. “Krondor.”

Pug had them coming in a direct line from Sorcerer’s Isle, so they approached the Prince’s city from almost directly west.

“Oh, gods!” said Miranda.

Across the horizon, where once a large city had teemed with life, only a lifeless black spot on the horizon loomed. Even at this hour of the morning, the city should have been alive with lights, as workers made their way along the streets in the predawn gloom. Boats should have been leaving from the fishing village outside the northern wall, and ships departing for distant ports should have been setting sail.

“There’s nothing left,” said Nakor.

Calis said, “Something’s moving.” He pointed up the coast, and in the murky light they could see a large company of horsemen moving north along the sea road.

“It looks like some of the Queen’s army has deserted,” said Sho Pi.

“Now that they’re free of the demon’s control, that should become more commonplace,” said Pug.

As they sped over the outer breakwater of Krondor harbor, the masts of burned ships stuck up
above the bay, like a forest of blackened bones reaching for the sky. Beyond the water, everything was burned beyond recognition. The docks were gone, as were most of the buildings. Here and there a portion of a wall stuck up, but mostly it was rubble. The Prince’s palace was recognizable from its position atop the southern point of the harbor, high atop the hill that originally gave the first Prince of Krondor command of the harbor.