MEN STALKED THE woods.
Subai moved quietly but with purpose, following the river. Most of his men were dead, though two might have gotten over the ridge to make their way along the eastern face of the mountains down to Darkmoor. He prayed it was so.
He had made it through a murderous journey lasting weeks. His Pathfinders had skills unmatched by any on Midkemia, save the elves and the Rangers of Natal. But Fadawah’s defenses were bolstered by something far more terrible than mere human ability: they were aided by dark magic Subai did not understand.
It became noticeable when they passed the first of the true southern defenses. Besides the death and destruction, there had been a feeling of despair everywhere, as if a miasma of pain and hopelessness hung in the air. The farther north they traveled, the worse the feeling became.
They saw little of the coastal defenses for a while, as they moved north while the road to Quester’s View turned northwest. When they reached the road from Quester’s View to Hawk’s Hollow, they encountered more indications of dark powers.
Not only had the northern ridge above that road been fortified, the southern ridge had been decorated with a grisly set of corpses. Wooden Xs had been erected along the ridgeline, with a human prisoner nailed to each. All had expressions of horror on their faces, showing they died from wounds, rather than exposure and crucifixion. Most had their throats cut, but a few had their hearts removed, their chests showing gaping wounds.
And the dead were not just men. Women and children had also been murdered for this hideous display.
Two of his men had died an hour later, as terrible-looking men wearing scars upon their cheeks and seemingly possessed of inhuman strength and determination had chanced upon Subai’s camp. From what intelligence Subai had read on the Emerald Queen’s army, he knew these men were most likely Immortals. Originally the honor guard of the Priest-King of Lanada, they were ordinary soldiers turned into murderous fiends by black rites and a diet of drugs. The Emerald Queen had further degenerated them, using one a night in death rites to continue her eternal youth.
It had been thought they had fallen out of favor with Fadawah, but they seemed very evident on the approaches to Yabon.
For the next week they had been hunted, and two more men had died, leaving it to Subai to order to his two remaining companions to turn east and find their way to Loriel, which was still held by the Kingdom. He hoped they would lead away the pursuing warriors.
Subai had effectively isolated himself in the hope that one man might slip by where two would be noticed.
For a week he had journeyed past patrols and encampments, and each time he saw another enemy band, his confidence in the Kingdom’s chances of regaining Yabon was eroded. The theory that only a core of twenty or twenty-five thousand soldiers remained under Fadawah’s command was in error. Given the numbers he knew to be deployed down near Sarth and estimates of what it would have taken to overrun LaMut, Subai was now convinced Fadawah had at least thirty-five thousand soldiers under his command.
Subai knew that if it were true, and if Kesh continued to probe the southern border, freezing soldiers along the frontier, Greylock did not have enough men to dislodge Fadawah. It might be possible to retake Ylith, but the price would be grim.
Subai had failed to reach Yabon. The city was besieged and there was no way he could get close enough to attempt to sneak in. He had considered trying for Tyr-Sog, but found himself behind the enemy’s lines and realized his best bet was to strike for the Lake of the Sky, and around the northern tip of the Grey Towers and down into the elven forests.
Subai had no illusions. He had been chased for two days, since almost reaching the Lake of the Sky. He didn’t know if the men who were behind him were fanatics of Fadawah’s or renegades, but either way he knew he needed to find a place to rest and something to eat.
He had had no provisions since a week after leaving the vicinity of Yabon City. He had foraged and found nuts and berries, as well as snaring a rabbit, but he hadn’t eaten in the last two days, since being spotted by his pursuers. He was losing weight and energy, and was in no condition to fight more than one or two men. If five or six were after him, to be caught was to die.
He was following the southern bank of the River Crydee, which began at the Lake of the Sky. He knew that soon he would be opposite woods that were claimed by the elves, and that to enter them he would need permission. He also knew that it was his only chance of safety. There was no way he could continue to follow the rift down to the castle at Crydee, or risk moving south through the Green Heart to the Jonril garrison.
Subai stopped and looked back. Cresting some rocks a mile back, he saw dark figures moving. He looked ahead and saw a ford.
It was never going to be a better time, he told himself.
Subai entered the water and found it rose to his knees. At the height of summer the water level was lowest, and he knew that at thaw, or after fall thundershowers, he could not cross here.
He was halfway across when he heard shouts behind and knew his pursuers had sighted him. That renewed his determination and he forced himself to move faster.
He was ashore when the men following him reached the ford. He didn’t look back, but dodged into the woods, wishing he still had a bow. He had watched it fall into a rocky crevasse when he was still in the mountains, two weeks before. With a bow he could have stopped those after him.
He ran on.
The light was falling and Subai was disoriented, but he knew he was moving generally toward the west. Suddenly a voice from ahead challenged him. “What do you seek in Elvandar, human?”
Subai halted. “I seek refuge and I bring messages,” he said, leaning over with his hands on his knees as fatigue swept up over him.
“Who are you?”
“I am Captain Subai of the Royal Krondorian Pathfinders, and I bring messages from Owen Greylock, Knight-Marshal of Krondor.”
“Enter, Subai,” said an elf, who seemed to step out of nowhere.
“There are men following me,” said Subai, “agents of the invader, and I fear they will be upon us in minutes.”
The elf shook his head. “None may enter Elvandar unbidden. Already they are being led away from us, and should they finally escape the woods, they will be miles from here. Else they may wander until they starve.”
Subai said, “Thank you for inviting me in.”
The elf smiled and said, “I am called Adelin. I will guide you.”
“Thanks,” replied Subai. “I am almost done.”
The elf reached into his belt pouch; removed a piece of food, and said, “Eat this. It will restore you.”
Subai took the offering, a square piece of what looked to be a thick, hard bread. He bit into it and his mouth filled with flavors: nuts, berries, grains, and honey. He chewed it greedily.
Adelin said, “We still have far to go.” He led the Pathfinder to the west, toward Elvandar.
Erik washed the blood from his face and hands, while outside the tent trumpets blew and horses rode by. Richard, Earl of Makurlic, looked at the map and said, “We’re holding.”
Erik said, “We’re losing.”
The counteroffensive had rolled the Kingdom army back in confusion, until Erik could order up reserves to blunt the assault. Now they were five miles south of the original point of contact, and night was falling. Leland, Richard’s son, entered the tent and said, “We’re routing them.” He was a likable young man, nineteen years old, with a shock of blondish brown hair and wide-set blue eyes.
Erik said, “Hardly. They’re withdrawing to their own lines until morning. They’ll hit us again.”
The young soldier was eager, and Erik had been pleased to discover he kept his wits about him in the midst of battle. He officially was a junior officer attached to a company of soldiers from Deep Tauton, left to bolster the Army of the West when the Army of the East withdrew. But with his father in command of the army, he was acting in an unofficial capacity as Lord Richard’s adjutant and had picked up the responsibility of relaying orders to outlying units.
“What do we do next?” asked Richard.
Erik wiped his face with a towel and came over to look down at the map. “We dig in. Jadow!” he shouted over his shoulder.
A moment later, Jadow Shati appeared and said, “Erik?” Seeing the Earl sitting there, he changed that to “Captain? Hello, m’lord.”
Erik waved him over. “I want three diamonds dug in, here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to three points across the front. Jadow didn’t wait for further explanation, turning and leaving without even bothering to salute.
“Diamonds?” asked Leland.
Richard looked on in curiosity, too. Erik explained, “It’s an old Keshian formation. We build up three breastworks, each with two hundred men inside, but rather than try and build a huge one across the road, which we wouldn’t be able to finish by sunrise, we build three small, diamond-shaped ones across the front. Inside we place pikemen and build up the berm with shields and let them form defensive positions. The enemy’s horsemen can’t overrun them easily, and the tendency will be for men to move around the points of the diamond.”
Richard said, “That funnels their men into these two constricted areas between the center and the sides.”
“Yes,” said Erik. “With luck they get jammed up in those constriction points and our archers here” – he drew a line with his finger across the map behind the diamonds – “can wither any of the enemy who get trapped there. We’ll put a wall of swordsmen with shields in front of them in case the enemy gets past the diamonds in quantity.”
“What about our horse?” asked Leland.
“They hold to each side of the outer diamonds. If we’re lucky they can prevent any flanking, and if the enemy retreats, we can unleash them to harry the enemy.”
“Then what?” asked Richard.
“Then we lick our wounds, reorganize, and see if we can do something about that mess up the road.”
Reports were filtering back from men who had been cut off and lost for a while behind enemy lines, and who returned to fill in gaps in Erik’s knowledge of what was ahead of them. Along with Subai’s reports, carried back by his first two couriers, Erik wasn’t optimistic. The fact that no more Pathfinders had returned from Subai’s journey was also a part of that pessimism. With no firm picture of what lay closer to Ylith, Erik’s cautious nature turned his imagination to the darkest possibilities.
As best as they could determine, not only was there a vast network of fortifications at the crest of each hill and rise, but tunnels had been dug, so that reinforcements could be rushed from one location to another without being exposed to enemy attack. Erik recognized the trap inherent in the design: to attempt to bypass the fortifications left an unknown number of enemies at his back, and to stop and dig them out one at a time meant no hope of relieving the siege of Yabon.
Erik shook his head. “I’m too tired to think. At this point it seems possible that our only choice is in the manner of our defeat: either ride home and dig in at Krondor, or get butchered as we continue to push north.”
“Can we not get support from the sea?” asked Lord Richard.
Erik said, “Perhaps, up here, if we get past Quester’s View. There’re a number of coves and beaches where we could land men, but we lack enough ships to get the men there, don’t have the proper boats for a landing, and if Fadawah positions men on the bluffs above, none of our men would reach the road.”
Leland said, “You make it sound hopeless.”
Erik said, “Right now, that’s how I feel. Some sleep and a meal, and we’ll see how I feel in the morning, but either way, I’m not going to conclude anything on the basis of my feelings.”
Richard said, “For one so young, you’ve seen a great deal of war, haven’t you?”
Erik nodded. “I’m not yet twenty-six years of age, m’lord, yet I feel old in my bones.”
“Get some rest,” suggested Richard.
Erik nodded as he left the tent. He saw a soldier in the black tunic of the Crimson Eagles, and said, “Sean, where is our camp?”
“Over there, Captain,” answered the soldier as he hurried past.
Erik moved in the indicated direction and found a dozen members of his old command setting up their tents. “Bless you, Jadow,” he said when he saw his own tent already up. Erik flung himself down on the bedroll waiting for him and was asleep within seconds.
“Ring the alarm,” said Dash.
“What?” asked Patrick, a look of incredulity on his face.
“I said ring the alarm. Spread word that a Keshian army is advancing on the city, and those soldiers hidden within the city will leap to attack the positions they’re supposed to. Only instead of taking our soldiers from behind, our soldiers will be waiting for them.”
“Isn’t that extreme?” asked Duke Rufio, recently arrived from Rodez. Dash knew him slightly from his time at the King’s court in Rillanon, and knew him to be a no-nonsense sort of fellow. He was a competent administrator, an adequate military advisor, and a fair rider and swordsman, exactly the wrong man for Krondor on the brink of a crisis. Rufio would prove a fine administrator for a talented monarch served by a brilliant general, thought Dash. Unfortunately, he had only Patrick and Dash to depend on, and Dash was now certain he would have to improvise and be dazzling else Krondor would be lost.
“Yes, Your Grace, it is extreme,” answered Dash, “but it’s better to flush them out when we’re ready for them than to have them appear behind us at the height of an attack. I’ve seen enough proof there are weapons and food caches in the sewers so that armed insurrection inside the city can commence with any attack from outside.”
“If there is any attack,” said Patrick. He remained dubious about the entire possibility. He was convinced that negotiations underway at Stardock would eventually yield a solution. Even the revelation that Malar Enares had been a Keshian spy, and the lack of response to an inquiry about Jimmy’s arrival at Port Vykor, didn’t persuade him there was the risk of a surprise attack against the capital of the Western Realm.
Dash had never been close to Patrick. More of an age with Jimmy and Francie, Dash had always been the “tag-along” as children, and during the period when Dash and Jimmy had been tossed out of the palace to learn in the rough and tumble of the docks at Rillanon, Patrick had been visiting the eastern courts, learning diplomacy. Even as young men, Dash and Patrick had felt little affinity for one another. Dash was sure Patrick had redeeming qualities, but at this moment, he couldn’t begin to think what they were.
“If you know who these men are,” suggested Patrick, “the ones who are secreting all these weapons and food, why don’t you just arrest them?”
“Because presently I have less than one hundred constables, and I believe there are close to a thousand enemy soldiers scattered throughout the city. As soon as I arrest the first bunch, the rest will go to ground. And I don’t know who all of them are. I think I’ve got some lying low aboard ships off the coast, and there may be some in the caravansary outside the gate, and who knows how many are lurking down in the sewers.
“But if I ring the alarm bell, and you have the soldiers in the city placed at key locations, between them and my constables, we can eliminate this threat.”
Duke Rufio said, “I have two hundred soldiers en route from Rodez who should be arriving here within the week. Perhaps when they arrive?”
Dash tried mightily to hide his aggravation. He almost succeeded. “At least let me employee more men,” Dash pleaded.
Patrick said, “The treasury is low; you’ll have to make do with what you have.”
“What about volunteers?” asked Dash.
“If anyone volunteers to serve, swear them to duty. Do whatever you have to. Perhaps after the war we might pay them.” Patrick looked as if he had run out of patience. “That will be all, Sheriff,” said Patrick.
Dash bowed and removed himself from the office. Stalking down the hall, he was lost in thought when he turned a corner and almost ran into Francie. “Dash!” she said, sounding pleased to see him. “It’s been so long.”
“I’ve been busy,” he said, still feeling nettled over Patrick’s dismissal of his idea.
“Everyone has. Father tells me your job is probably as thankless as anyone’s in the palace, yet he thinks you’re doing it well.”
“Thanks,” said Dash. “Are you staying here in Krondor, now that Duko Rufio has assumed office?”
“Father and I leave for Rillanon in a week,” said Francie. “We have to make plans …”
“For the wedding?”
Francie nodded. “No one is supposed to know; the King will announce it after things calm down …” She looked troubled.
“What is it?”
Lowering her voice she said, “Have you heard anything from Jimmy?”
“No,” he said.
“I’m worried about him,” said Francie. “He left in such a hurry and we really had little chance to talk … about things.”
Dash had no time for this. “Francie, he’s fine, and as for talking about things, well, perhaps after the wedding, when Patrick’s returned and you’re Princess of Krondor, you can order him to come to a garden party …”
“Dash!” said Francie, looking hurt. “Why are you being so mean?”
Dash sighed. “Because I’m tired, angry, frustrated, and because your future husband is being … well, he’s being Patrick. And if you want to know, I’m worried about Jimmy, too.”
Francie nodded. “Is he really upset by my marrying Patrick?”
Dash shrugged. “I don’t know. I think in a way, yes, but in another way he knows things have to be what they are. He’s … confused, like the rest of us.”
Francie sighed. “I just want him to be my friend.”
Dash tried to force a smile. “You shouldn’t worry about that. Jimmy’s very loyal. He’ll always be your friend.” He bowed slightly. “Well, milady, I must be off. There’s too much to do and I’m already late.”
“Goodbye, Dash,” she said, and Dash detected a note of sadness in her voice, as if they were parting forever.
“Goodbye, Francie,” he said as he turned and walked off. Here he was trying to keep the city intact, and she was concerned with hurt feelings. Dash knew he was in a bad mood, but he also knew it was well earned. And he knew he was likely to be in a worse one if he didn’t come up with some way to neutralize those forces hostile to the crown already secreted inside the city.
Subai was astonished, as was every human upon first viewing Elvandar. He had been led through the glades to the large clearing surrounding the heart of the elven forests, and when he had spied the giant trees of luminous colors he had been moved to his most expressive exclamation in years. “Killian! What joy!” he had whispered.
Adelin said, “Of those beings you humans worship, we revere Killian most.”
He led the tired and hungry Captain to the Queen’s court, and by the time Subai reached it, he felt far better than he had any reason to expect. He suspected it had something to do with the magic associated with the place, according to legend.
He bowed before the two beings sitting upon the dais, a woman of stunning if alien beauty, and a tall, powerfully built but young-looking man. “Your Majesty,” he said to the Queen. “My lord,” he said to the man.
“Welcome,” said the Elf Queen, and her voice was soft and musical. “You have come a great distance, and at great peril. Take your ease and tell us of your message from your Prince.”
Subai looked around the Queen’s Council. Three elderly-looking, grey-haired elves stood to her right hand, one wearing rich-looking robes, the second an impressive-looking suit of armor with a sword at his side, and the third a simple blue robe with a corded belt.
Next to Tomas, Prince-Consort of Elvandar, stood a young-looking elf, one who bore a resemblance to the Queen, and Subai deduced this to be her older son, Calin. To his left stood a familiar figure: Calis. Next to Calis was a man wearing leathers and a long grey cloak.
Subai said to the Queen, “The message is this, Fair Queen: an enemy of great evil lies between our realms. Calis as much as any man knows this evil. He has faced it more than anyone, and knows it wears many faces.”
“What would you have of us?” asked the Queen.
Subai looked from face to face. “I do not know, Great Queen. I had hoped to find the magician Pug here, for it may be we are at the mercy of powers only he might face.”
Tomas stood and said, “Should we have need of Pug I can promise you a quick passage to him. He has returned to his island and can be found there.”
Calis said, “Mother, may I speak?” The Queen nodded, and Calis said, “Subai, the Emerald Queen is dead and so is the demon who destroyed her. Surely the Kingdom can deal with the remaining invaders.”
“I wish that it were so, Calis,” said Subai. “But on my way here I saw things that make me think we have again encountered more than we’ve suspected. I’ve seen the return of those men you told us of, the Immortals, and other drinkers of blood. I’ve seen men, women, and children sacrificed up to dark powers. I’ve seen bodies piled in pits, and mystic fires burning in villages. I’ve heard chants and songs that no human should hear. Whatever help you have to give, please, we need it now.”
The Queen said, “We shall discuss this in council. Our son has spoken at length of the invaders from across the sea. They do not trouble us, but they do patrol near our borders.
“Go now and rest. We shall meet again in the morning.”
Calis and the man in grey came down to stand before Subai. Calis shook hands with the Captain. “It is good to see you,” said Calis.
The Pathfinder said, “You can’t imagine how good it is to see you, Calis. And I’m betting that Erik wishes you were back in command of the Eagles.”
Calis said, “This is Pahaman of Natal.”
The man in grey put out his hand, and Subai said, “Our grandfathers were brothers.”
“Our grandfathers were brothers,” returned Pahaman.
Calis said, “An odd greeting.”
Subai smiled. “It’s a ritual. The Pathfinders and the Rangers of Natal are of like spirit. Never in the conflicts between the Free Cities and the Kingdom has a Ranger or Pathfinder spilled the other’s blood.”
Pahaman said, “In ancient times, when Kesh ruled, our ancestors were Imperial Guides. When the Empire retreated, many who were left behind became Rangers, and those who lived near Krondor founded the Pathfinders. All are kin, Pathfinder, Ranger, and Guide.”
Calis said, “Would that all men knew they were kin. Come, let us feed you, Subai, and find you a place to sleep. While you dine, tell me what you’ve seen.”
They departed.
Tomas turned to his wife and said, “More than anytime since the Riftwar I fear we may not be free of involvement.”
The Queen looked at her eldest counselor and said, “Tathar?”
“We will wait upon Calis’s return. After he has spoken to the human he will tell us how grave is the risk.”
Prince Calin said, “I will join my brother and listen, as well.”
The Queen nodded, and the old warrior, Redtree, said, “What good would it do for us to leave Elvandar? We are few in number and could not tip the balance.”
Tomas said, “I don’t think that will be the question.” He looked at his wife and said, “The question becomes, should I depart Elvandar?”
The Queen looked at her husband and said nothing.