Wrath of a Mad God (39 page)

“You do this thing, why, magician? Why do you struggle to save so many?”

Pug laughed, more out of frustration than humor. “Who else would do it? It is my lot. And I do it because it is right that I do so.”

She nodded. “You are a good man, Great One. Now, go, and I will do what I can. Will I see you again?”

“Only the gods know,” said Pug. “If I can visit the highlands where you are to live, I will, but if I don’t, you’ll know that it is for a good reason.”

“Go with the gods,” she said, turning to walk back to the long hall and begin what would most certainly be a long and heated debate.

Taking an orb from his robe, Pug triggered it to return to the Assembly, and was gone.

J
im threw a dagger.

He ducked away behind a rock as the blade struck a Dasati Deathknight in the face, taking him out of the saddle of his varnin. He was immediately trampled by other riders who ignored their fallen comrade as they rode through the canyon.

Reaching a promontory where his companions waited, he said, “Time to be going!”

Jommy, Tad, Zane, and Servan didn’t need to be told twice. What had less than half an hour before been a rear echelon area, a staging point for troops heading into battle and a resting place for troops pulled out of the line, was now suddenly the front. An hour ago, all five young men had been nursing aching bodies, eating
decent meals for the first time in two days, and anticipating some well-earned rest. After eating, they had found a shady spot under a wagon on which to sleep. They had become accustomed to the needra, the six-legged Tsurani beast of burden, its restless snorting and its alien odors. They were so tired it had only taken minutes for them to fall asleep.

Jim had been the first to be roused by the shouting. They had barely avoided being trampled by Dasati Deathknights, and had escaped their nets only by scurrying up the rocky hillside which led to a ridge that had served as a natural defensive barrier on Alenburga’s left flank. The only problem was that everyone else in the headquarters had gone in the other direction.

For the last two days they had been making a steady retreat. The Black Mount would expand on a fairly regular basis and the Tsurani magicians were attempting to gauge its rate so that they could predict a safe distance for each withdrawal.

The defenders’ tactics had changed. They were no longer attempting to repulse a Dasati invasion, but rather were attempting to fight a screening rearguard withdrawal to give refugees time to reach the safety of the nearest rifts. Pug had established a rift that morning between Kelewan and another world, and the Emperor’s edict had gone out. Magicians had carried the order to every part of the Empire and the population was mobilizing. It would be impossible to get everyone though the rifts in time, but they were going to save as many as possible.

Once the first major rift had been established, Pug had created a second one to a distant continent, then created a gateway for the Thūn. A third had been created in the Thuril highlands, and after that, other magicians were creating secondary gateways to those locations. Still other Great Ones were busy creating lesser rifts around the Empire, which terminated near the first major Tsurani rift, on the City of the Plains. That location had been selected because the area around the rift was vast and a few dozen lesser rifts could open there, giving enough room for the massive influx of refugees to wait without trampling one another.

The problem seemed to be creating enough rifts to reach the new world. Pug was one of the few magicians capable of creating
such a rift without help. Once he had established a rift, other rifts at nearby locations would naturally follow it to the new world, and that was beneficial, but it still took two or three magicians four or five times as long to do the work. At the last report there were seven effective rifts to the new world. But Kaspar had remarked within earshot of the young captains that seventy wouldn’t be enough.

So, there was a need to slow down the Dasati, who seemed intent on capturing as many prisoners as possible to be dragged back to the Black Mount and thrown into the pit to feed the monstrosity on their home world. No one wanted to consider how horrific the situation had become. The Tsurani were warriors by tradition and temperament, and always focused on what was ahead, not behind them, but estimations ran as high as twenty to thirty thousand Tsurani having gone into the pit in the last two days. From what they had seen, the young captains thought that number low. The Dasati were anything but stupid: they were rapidly adapting their strategy and tactics to fit the situation and now their raids were massive and unexpected.

It was probably just bad luck that this newest one had brought them almost on top of the Tsurani headquarters.

Jommy looked around as they could hear the rumbling of the Dasati riders on the other side of the ridge. “Where are we?”

Zane said, “Tad was the last to see the map.” He looked at his foster brother and asked, “Where are we?”

The slender blond youth held out his hand, palm outward and fingers down. “This,” he said, pointing to his middle finger, “is the ridge behind us. Over here,” he said, pointing at the ring finger, “is where everyone else went. We need to get from there to there.”

“With a couple of thousand Dasati Deathknights between us,” said Servan.

Jim Dasher said, “Wait, I have an idea.”

“What?” asked Jommy. Since arriving with messages for Lord Erik, Dasher had been seconded to General Alenburga’s staff, joining Jommy, Tad, Zane, and Servan as a “captain.”

He pointed southwest. “The Dasati are going that way.”

“Yes,” said Tad.

“So, let’s go that way,” he said, pointing northeast. “We cut
across the valley floor, and we’re on the other side where we can catch up with the General and the others.”

“Brilliant idea,” said Jommy, “but you’re overlooking one thing.”

“What?”

“Everyone else at headquarters is mounted. They have horses. We don’t. We’ll never catch up with them.”

“Well,” said Zane, “we certainly won’t if we stand here arguing about it. I say we do as Jim says. Eventually the General will throw up another headquarters and if we just keep following the line of retreat, we’ll find it sooner or later.”

With no better course of action, the boys agreed and they started back up the ridge they had just fled down. Reaching the top, they paused, crouching just below the ridgeline. They could hear no sounds of mounted Dasati, but experience had taught them that Dasati often had secondary patrols following after the raids to catch anyone who had been in hiding.

Jim was about to stick his head over the rise when he heard something. He held up his hand in a sign of caution and listened. Then he recognized the sound. Someone was humming!

He peered over and saw a lone figure moving up the trail, wearing the black robe of a Tsurani magician, and he was humming a tune. “What is this?” Jim asked.

The others peered over and saw the figure vanishing up the trail and Jommy said, “Was he singing?”

“Humming,” corrected Jim Dasher. “Loudly.”

“Should we go after him?” asked Zane.

“No,” said Tad. “If he’s a magician he can take care of himself, and look where he is!”

Where he happened to be was approaching the outer limits of the “safe” area around the Black Mount. Anywhere closer was likely to result in suddenly finding yourself inside the dome the next time it expanded. They watched the robed man vanish along the trail, then they moved over the ridge and down to the floor of the valley.

“Last time I looked, the generals were heading that way,” Jommy said, pointing to the southeast.

“Then that’s the way we go,” said Dasher. “You know, I think I’ve had enough of this.”

“What?” asked Servan.

“The war?” Tad suggested.

“That, certainly,” said Dasher. “No, I mean the whole service to the Crown business.”

“Well, no one made you do it,” suggested Zane.

“Actually, someone did,” said Jim.

“Who?” Jommy asked.

Dasher shrugged. “You lads must have figured out by now that I’m not just a thief from Krondor.”

Jommy laughed as they trudged along, keeping alert for any marauding Dasati. “We sort of got the notion when you showed up carrying royal dispatches for Lord Erik. They don’t usually hand those over to random pickpockets and bashers and tell them to scoot along through the nearest rift to a war on another world.”

“Well, it was my grandfather, really, who got me into ‘the family business,’ I guess you could say.”

Servan said, “Don’t keep us guessing.” His tone was dry and he seemed unconvinced. He had known Jim Dasher long enough to judge him an accomplished liar.

“My grandfather is James, Lord Jamison, Duke of Rillanon.”

Jommy laughed. “That’s a wonderful tale.”

“No, I’m serious,” said Dasher. He picked up a rock and threw it, hitting a larger rock some distance away. “I’m tired of risking my life, thugs, gamblers, whores, and all the rest of it, and I’m ready to settle down and start a family.”

“You?” said Jommy, laughing. “A family?”

“Yes,” said Jim, beginning to become nettled. “I even have a girl in mind.”

“This I must hear,” said Servan. “Who, among the kingdom aristocracy, has the Duke’s grandson in mind?”

The others began to laugh.

“If you must know,” said Jim, “she’s Lady Michele de Frachette, daughter of the Earl of Montagren.”

The laughter stopped.

“You’re serious? Michele?” asked Servan.

“Yes, why?”

The four former university students looked at one another, and Jommy said to Tad, “You tell him.”

Zane said, “You should tell him, Jommy.”

“No,” said Jommy. “I really think it should be you, Tad. You’re the first one she…” He looked at Jim Dasher, then said, “…danced with at the King’s reception.”

“Yes,” said Tad, looking askance, “but you…danced with her the most.”

Jommy sighed and stopped walking. “Ah, Jim, we have all had the pleasure of her…ah…acquaintance. She attended a reception at the Royal Court in Roldem, when Tad, Zane, and myself were made Knights of the King’s Court.” With a grin, he also said, “Which is where I met Servan’s lovely sister, too.”

Servan’s expression darkened. And it was Tad who said, “She’s, ah…’

“A lovely girl,” supplied Zane. “Really.”

“Are you talking about Michele or my sister?” Servan’s expression was not happy.

Tad jumped in. “Both, about the lovely girl part, but ignore him,” he said, pointing to Jommy. “He just likes your sister to annoy you.”

“That’s not true!” protested Jommy. “She really
is
a wonderful girl.” He mock-scowled at Servan. “How the two of you came from the same parents is a mystery to me.”

“Enough,” said Dasher. “Michele?”

“Ah, yes, Michele. Lovely, but…ambitious,” said Jommy.

“She’s looking for a well-positioned husband, you could say.”

“That’s what I’d say,” agreed Servan.

“And no one would be as well positioned as the grandson of the Duke of Rillanon, would he?” offered Zane.

“But before that she was…more open to other suitors,” supplied Zane.

“So, let’s say we’ve all had the pleasure of…her company,” said Tad.

Jim’s expression turned dangerous and his color began to rise, his cheeks turning red. “When?”

Jommy said, “Second Day. The reception was the previous Fifth Day.”

Tad said, “First.”

“Really?” asked Jommy. “I thought I had supper with her first.”

“No, I did,” said Tad.

“And you?” Jommy asked of Zane.

“Fourth.”

Jim looked ready to lose his temper completely. “So, you’re telling me that the three of you—”

Servan said, “Ah, four.” They looked at him and he added, “Third Day.”

Jommy put his hand on Jim’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, as friendly a gesture as he could manage. “Look at it this way, old son. We’ve saved you from a world of embarrassment, haven’t we? Whoever does wed her is going to be the butt of a lot of jokes in court. Can’t have that for the Duke’s grandson, can we?”

Jim looked from face to face, and the color in his cheeks began to fade. He was not by nature an idealistic sort, but he had built up a very lovely ideal of Michele. Better to find out now, he acknowledged. Finally he shook his head and said, “Women.”

They resumed walking and Jommy said, “Yes.”

Tad said, “You know what the monks of La-Timsa at the university say about women, don’t you?”

Jommy, Servan, and Zane had heard the old joke a dozen times and in unison answered, “Women! You can’t live with them and you can’t live with them.”

Jim groaned, realizing that La-Timsites were a celibate order. “I think I’ll stick to whores.”

Servan said, “Knowing the young women of the Royal Court in Roldem, I’d say it’s probably less expensive.”

“And you’ll be lied to less often,” said Zane.

“Well, this is all good and all,” said Jommy, “but have you seen any sight of a retreating army?”

“That way,” said Jim, pointing at a litter of dropped items.

“We follow what they threw away.”

“Let’s hope the Dasati didn’t. I’m not anxious to walk into their rearguard,” Tad said.

Conversation fell off as they trudged up a hillside and over another ridge. Then Jim said, “You know the tune that magician was humming?”

“What about it?” asked Servan.

“I just realized I recognize it! It’s a tune common in the alehouses in Land’s End and Port Vykor.”

“So?” asked Tad.

“So where’s a Tsurani magician learn a tune sung by drunken sailors down in Land’s End?”

No one had an answer.

Leso Varen felt positively buoyant, though he was at a loss to explain why. So much of his life was made up of odd impulses that he could not explain, so he had long ago given up any seeking of reasonable explanations. He knew it all began with the amulet he had found so many years ago, and the dreams that had come afterward. He had thrown it away, twice, then spent years recovering it, and once he destroyed it, he thought, only to find the shards and restore it, killing a half dozen jewelers in the process. Something about that amulet…

That damned pirate Bear, the murderous monster, had it on when he died, and it was lost somewhere in the Bitter Sea. He had really desired that amulet. Wearing it had given him the first glimpse of what was possible, how death and life were so closely linked, and there was no more powerful source of power than a life slipping into death.

He never found the amulet, though he had searched in the sea for it years ago…There, his mind was wandering again.

He was certain there was some higher agency at work here, for he could not rest once he got an idea until he took it to fruition. Several times he had been frustrated by others, but somehow he had always endured.