Authors: Raymond E. Feist
Honored Enemy (49 page)
He paused at the crest of the small rise in the road overlooking the keep. It was a ritual which had become habit – nodding to the burial mound which held the ashes of Wolfgar, Richard, Alwin, and the others; even Sugama. He sat down for a moment.
Looking at the small marker he had erected to mark their grave, he said, ‘Well, Wolfgar, you old bastard, you’re going to be a grandfather again. Alyssa’s with child once more.’ He looked down into the valley.
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Where the old stockade had stood, now a sturdy keep rose. He laughed silently at the irony of life.
What had once been his land had been granted to the Tsurani with the ending of the war. Lord Kasumi, now Earl of LaMut, had been granted that office by King Lyam after the end of the war, when Earl Vandros had gain the office of Duke of Yabon, upon old Brucal’s retirement. Dennis had no problem with the King taking Kasumi and the other Tsurani stranded on Midkemia into service. Better than any solider in the King’s army, Dennis knew the quality of those men. For every Sugama there were a hundred Asayagas, men who would guard your back with their own lives and give everything in the name of honour and duty. No, he welcomed them as allies on the northern borders, keeping the moredhel at bay. What he objected to was them giving his family’s land to a Tsurani vassal of Earl Kasumi.
The news had been a bitter blow, for he had fought loyally for ten long years and to have his ancestral home bartered away was difficult to accept. He sighed as he remembered how angry he had been at the time.
There had been, he knew, a cloud over his name. For someone had indeed talked. He could not have expected different. Soldiers were soldiers and in the days after their return to the Kingdom lines rumours had been flying about the miraculous return of what was called ‘the lost patrol’ and clearly someone had finally spilled the tale of what had really happened.
Then had come the night when old Duke Brucal had called him to his pavilion and pressed the charges that he had consorted with the enemy, and knowingly let an e´lite Tsurani unit escape.
It was ironic coming from Brucal, who was known to be one of the most pragmatic soldiers in the field. Yet, duty was duty, and if the rumours were true, Dennis could stand accused of treason.
Fortunately, none of his men would implicate him before the tribunal of Dukes Brucal and Borric, and Earl Vandros of LaMut.
Dennis was freed and returned to duty, but his reputation had been sullied. The Marauders were disbanded and he was sent to serve the last year of the war with Vandros. The Earl had been quick to realize Dennis’s abilities and by the end of the war, Dennis had regained his rank and prestige, but the whispers 319
about his mysterious journey with a Tsurani patrol never fully went away.
In a way, the new duty had been a welcome relief. The front was quiet, the patrols a boring routine, and thus he had spent the rest of the war.
And twice he had seen Asayaga. The first time was in the woods, nearly a year afterwards. The Tsurani were pressing on another front, and then launched a quick diversion into the territory patrolled by Dennis. There had been a short, shocking fight at a burning inn, both sides losing heavily. Just as he was pulling out, dragging his wounded, he caught a glimpse of Asayaga on his flank, Tasemu by his side.
He waited, not sure of what was to come next. Smoke drifted between them, and when it lifted the two were gone, and he had managed to get his command out.
The second time was on the day the Rift closed. Dennis had stood at attention with the honour company sent to attend the historic meeting between King Lyam and Emperor Inchindar, the Tsurani Light of Heaven.
Even now, five years after the war, Dennis didn’t fully understand the betrayal of the elves and dwarves. One minute the two young rulers had been sitting together with a young magician in a black robe translating for them, and suddenly the woods erupted with elves and dwarves attacking the Tsurani.
The fighting had been hand-to-hand and bloody. Dennis had been battling to seize the rift machine, for he had heard Prince Arutha, the King’s brother, exclaim that it had to be taken before the Tsurani could bring reinforcements through from their homeworld.
The black-robed magician and another in brown robes had finally destroyed the device, and Dennis to this day could hardly believe the fury which had resulted from the destruction of that machine –the explosion like thunder and the shaking of the ground that had accompanied it, tumbling men and horses off their feet.
The Tsurani, damn their stiff necks, would not yield, even then.
Their Emperor had been safely returned to their world, but those warriors stranded on this side of the Rift continued to fight. Finally sanity reigned, and Force Commander Kasumi of the Shinzawai 320
ordered a surrender when the bulk of the King’s army arrived at the truce site.
Dennis remembered seeing Asayaga during the fight, and it had been a great relief to see him among the prisoners.
Absently, he patted Wolfgar’s grave, humming a snatch of an old tune about a king, and stood up. It was nearly time for evening inspection. A patrol would go out tomorrow over the northern pass to check on the doings of the moredhel; he wanted his men in early tonight and well rested. Most of them were new recruits, a bit too eager, but then again new recruits usually were.
Reaching the open gate of the stockade he saw the men lined up. The way they were looking at him was curious: several were smiling, especially the old hands who were veterans of the Marauders.
Standing in the middle of the parade ground was a short stocky soldier, wearing the tabard of the Earl of LaMut.
It was Asayaga.
The Tsurani turned, grinning, and raised his hand in a formal salute. Then he came forward and grasped Dennis’s hand in his.
‘Dennis, how are you?’
‘Asayaga! By the gods, I thought you wouldn’t get here until tomorrow.’ Dennis saw the insignia above the wolf ’s head on the tabard. ‘Squire?’
‘Yes, my friend. A landed squire to my lord, Earl Kasumi.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. Now I know what you meant about Baron Moyet. A
fair man, but very difficult at times.’
‘A stuffy prig, you mean,’ answered Dennis.
Asayaga laughed. ‘You said it; I didn’t.’
‘So, where are your estates?’ asked Dennis, leading his guest to the newly-built keep.
Asayaga hesitated, then softly said, ‘Valinar.’
Dennis stopped and said, ‘I’ll be damned.’ Then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘That’s rich.’
Asayaga shook his head. ‘The title should have been yours. I’m sorry I brought trouble upon you.’
‘Don’t be. We did what was right. If we had not, both of us 321
would be dead now, and the kingdom would be minus a good Tsurani squire.’
‘And a good captain of the northern marches. At least you’re answering to Baron Highcastle, and not Moyet.’
‘There is that,’ agreed Dennis. ‘Besides, I like it here. The land is rich; it’s a fine location to build a new home, to live, even to have an occasional adventure. I’ll start a new Hartraft tradition here, Asayaga. I rather like the quiet now. And besides, there’s something special about this place that Wolfgar found. I guess a bit of his soul lingers, for I have inherited a distinct disdain for dealings in the courts of kings.’
Asayaga nodded. ‘I find that unsurprising.’
With a smile Dennis asked, ‘Alyssa? She’s waiting inside to greet you. Two sons now, a third on the way.’
Dennis clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’re going to wear that girl out, my friend. Wolfgar would be proud.’
‘Yes he would,’ and Asayaga smiled, a sly sort of grin.
Just then two women appeared at the door of the keep. Alyssa hurried forward and half-flew into Asayaga’s arms. ‘I’ve missed you!’
she exclaimed.
He laughed. ‘And I have missed you. How has your visit been?’
‘Wonderful. Better now that you’re here. How long can we stay?’
Asayaga slipped his arm around her and kissed her. ‘Another week, then we must both be back to court. Lord Kasumi’s wife says she misses her favourite lady-in-waiting, and I must return to my duties.’
Dennis turned to Sergeant Jenkins and said, ‘Inspect the men, change the watches, and then dismiss them.’
The sergeant saluted and turned to do as ordered.
Roxanne appeared at the door of the keep. She came down and kissed Asayaga on the cheek. ‘It is good to see you again,’ she said.
‘And it is good to see you, as well.’
A shout from inside the building, followed by a wail of protest, caused both sisters to look at one another. Roxanne said, ‘That’s my Jurgen.’ Hurrying away, she said, ‘What’s he up to now? He’s too much like you, Dennis!’
Alyssa said to her husband, ‘I’ll go see if it’s one of our boys, too.’
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The two men stood at the entrance to Dennis’s new home, surveying the valley where they had fought side by side years before, as the sun lowered in the west.
Asayaga said, ‘This is a wonderful place to start a new heritage.’
‘I couldn’t be happier.’ Dennis said. ‘Roxanne is a miracle and our sons are . . . impossible.’ He laughed. ‘She is right. I’m sure my father is looking down from Lims-Kragma’s Hall, amused at nature’s revenge on his son. But, yes, life is good. Come and rest.
I’ll ready the bath-house if you’d care to get clean.’
Asayaga laughed. ‘Yes. It’s good to see some civilization has rubbed off on you, barbarian.’
Dennis frowned, ‘Barbarian?’
Asayaga gave him a playful cuff on the arm. ‘Let us soak and relax, and you can tell me in which part of the brook at Valinar those improbably large trout you once told me of lurk.’
‘Improbably large?’ said Dennis as they walked in. ‘I swear on my son’s head that fish was at least three feet long.’
Asayaga looked dubious, but kept his laughter in check as the two friends went into the keep to join their wives and children for supper.
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As always, I am indebted to many people. They include:
The original mothers and fathers of Midkemia, and those who contributed after to the world’s development. Without
them, the landscape would be far less colourful.
I would also like to thank Rich, Andy, Jim, Rick, and the other regular diners at Flemming’s every Friday who made
many weeks more tolerable during the last year through their humour, sensitivity, and grace. And to Mira, for being such
good company and keeping my mind off my troubles from
time to time.
Jonathan Matson, as always.
And my children, Jessica and James, for just being the most
marvellous things in my existence.
Raymond
E
Feist
Many thanks of course to my mentor, Dr Gunther Rothenberg,
yet another example of honour and courage, Dr Dennis Showalter, a grand advisor on so many fronts, and Brian Thomsen, Bill Fawcett, and Eleanor Wood.
Finally, a special thanks to Bruce, Gus, John, and my friends from Nomads and the University of UlanBaator. We
trekked together across the steppes of Mongolia discovering
a fascinating world of adventure, beauty, lost history waiting to be rediscovered, and the culinary delights of fermented horse milk and roasted marmots.
William
R
Forstchen
5
Raymond E. Feist’s previous novels include the first volume in the Dark-war Saga, Flight of the Nighthawks, as well as the Conclave of Shadows: Talon of the Silver Hawk, King of Foxes, and Exile’s Return; Magician; Silverthorn; Faerie Tale; Prince of the Blood; and The King’s Buccaneer; as well as the four books of the New York Times bestselling SerpentWar Saga: Shadow of a Dark Queen, Rise of a Merchant Prince, Rage of a Demon King, and Shards of a Broken Crown; and the three books of his Rift -
war Legacy: Krondor: The Betrayal, Krondor: Th
e Assassins, and Krondor:
Tear of the Gods. Feist lives in southern California.
www.RaymondFeistBooks.com
William R. Forstchen, author of several dozen books in the fi elds of science fiction, history, and historical fiction, resides in western North Carolina. He holds a Ph.D. in history from Purdue University and is a professor of history at Montreat College. His works include the coau-thored, New York Times bestselling series Gettysburg, written with Newt Gingrich, the Lost Regiment series, and the award-winning We Look Like Men of War, a novel based on his doctoral dissertation about an African American regiment in the Civil War. He spends most summers in Mongolia, doing archaeological and historical research, and his current hobby is the restoration and flying of a replica P-51 Mustang fi ghter plane.
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information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Flight of the Nighthawks
Exile’s Return
King of Foxes
Talon of the Silver Hawk
Magician
Silverthorn
A Darkness at Sethanon
Faerie Tale
Shadow of a Dark Queen
Rise of a Merchant Prince
