Shards of a Broken Crown (23 page)

The chaos which
followed seem to amuse Nakor, though Pug was disturbed by the attempt
to kill them without conversation. They appeared two relatively
helpless men, unarmed and alone. Their own horses had panicked at the
onslaught of the Saaur riders, the massive horses bearing down like a
rolling tide.

Pug had allowed
his and Nakor’s mounts to flee before putting up his barrier,
and now he regretted the decision. They were without the food and
water in the saddlebags, with nothing for sustenance except for
Nakor’s seemingly inexhaustible supply of oranges.

He produced one,
split the skin, and began to devour it. “Want one?”

“No, thank
you; maybe later,” said Pug. “This shield spell is more
than adequate to keep them out, but I do have to spend a little
energy keeping it intact.”

“It’s
a good thing they don’t have any spellcasters along, isn’t
it?”

“Things
could get a little difficult,” agreed Pug.

Nakor squinted
and said, “Then things might get difficult soon.” He
pointed to the distant horizon beyond the milling, angry riders who
were still firing arrows at them.

In the distance
another band of riders was approaching at speed, and from the banners
being carried by heralds at the front, Pug assumed someone of
importance was coming to investigate this problem. He said, “Well,
if I tell you to run, don’t hesitate.”

Nakor said, “I
run very well when I need to.”

As the new band
of riders pulled up, those already surrounding the protective sphere
moved back, allowing a group of a dozen riders to come close and
inspect the two humans. Pug recognized the leader, Jatuk, the
Sha-shahan of all the remaining Saaur.

The young
warriors fell silent as their leader reined in his mount. The leader
jumped down from his horse and walked to stand just inches the other
side of the energy barrier. “Why have you humans come to
trouble the Saaur?” he demanded.

Pug glanced at
Nakor, who shrugged.

Pug looked at
Jatuk and said, “Why do you war upon us, Sha-shahan of all the
Saaur?”

“I make no
war upon your kind, Black Robe.”

“There are
three hundred dead soldiers of my King back there who would argue
that,” Pug replied.

“If they
could still argue,” Nakor added.

“They
refused to depart,” said Jatuk. “They were told we claim
these grasslands.”

Pug said, “If
I lower this barrier, may we talk?”

Jatuk waved his
hand in agreement. “We camp here!” he shouted, and
instantly the fifty or so riders surrounding the two humans
dismounted and started to organize a camp. Several led horses away
and drove stakes for pickets while others began building fire pits.
Still others rode off toward a nearby river, to carry water back.

Pug let the
barrier lapse, and Jatuk said, “I remember you, Black Robe. It
was you who brought me Haman’s dying words, of our betrayal at
the hands of the Pantathians. I will speak with you in truce, and you
may leave freely when we are done.”

“Me too?”
asked Nakor.

Jatuk didn’t
deign to answer, merely waving away the question as he turned his
back on the pair. He walked to his horse, held by another Saaur
warrior, and with a gesture indicated he wanted his travel pack. The
warrior complied and handed down a bag that a human would have been
hard-pressed to carry.

Pug was again
staggered by the scale of the Saaur. The average warrior topped out
at twelve feet tall, with a few slightly taller. Their horses were
close to twenty-five hands compared to the seventeen or eighteen
hands of a heavy Midkemian warhorse. Pug was also impressed at their
efficiency in setting up camp. He reminded himself these were
originally a nomadic people, who despite having constructed great
cities on their homework! of Shila, had remained nomads at heart. The
majority of the Saaur roamed the great grassy plains of Shila,
thousands of horsemen and their families and herds accompanying them
on their endless trek.

A demon attack
had ended that great civilization. Of the millions of Saaur who had
dominated their homeworld at its height, less than ten thousand had
survived on Midkemia. Pug assumed that the last few years of warfare
had kept their numbers low, but knew they were a people facing a grim
future if they couldn’t find a respite from warfare.

A fire was built
and Jatuk motioned for Pug and Nakor to join him. His reptilian face
was surprisingly expressive, and the more Pug watched those giant
warriors the easier it became to see individual differences. A
warrior took the role of Jatuk’s servant, providing him with a
wooden bowl of water for him to refresh himself with. He washed face
and hands, and at the end ran a damp towel across the back of his
neck. That gesture was the most reassuring thing Pug had seen of the
Saaur, for it was the most humanlike display he had seen that didn’t
involve bloodshed.

While traveling
through the destroyed world of Shila with the spirit of the last Lore
Master of the Saaur, Haman, Pug had come to learn a lot of the people
of that world and their history. He doubted human and Saaur could
ever be close friends on Midkemia, but he thought with some work,
they could become respectful of one another, leaving each other alone
for the most part, as humans and elves, and humans and dwarves,
tended to. He knew humanity didn’t need another enemy like the
moredhel, goblins, or trolls, especially not an enemy as physically
powerful and determined as the Saaur.

Jatuk said, “We
placed the heads of those men who would not quit the grasslands on
poles to stand as warning. Yet you ignored the warning to seek us
out. We are tired of your kind, Black Robe. We have known nothing but
death and loss since coming to this world.” He motioned to the
northeast, up the vast Thunderhell. “This is land we
understand. There are rolling plains, water, the cattle we have taken
thrive here.”

Pug nodded. Then
he said, “But it is not your land.”

“This is
not our world,” said Jatuk bitterly. “So we must take
what we can.” He gazed to the south. “You have suffered,
you humans of the Kingdom, and I now understand that it was through
no fault of yours that we were brought here. But we have no means to
return home, and even if we could, what would we find there, Black
Robe?”

“A
burned-out world populated by starving demons, hunting one another
down for food until only one is left. In time, it will starve and
wither. Finally, it will die.”

“So there
is nowhere to go.”

Pug said,
“Perhaps there is.”

Jatuk looked at
Pug and said, “Where?”

“I don’t
know yet, but Midkemia is a big world. Here the grasslands appear
vast, but you know your own history. Once your forebears were as you
are now, a small band abandoned upon Shila by the Valheru called
Alma-Lodaka.”

Despite having
learned the truth of their “goddess’s” nature in
the last year, old habits died hard, and the older Saaur bowed their
heads in reverence at the Green Mother’s name.

“But over
the ages,” Pug continued, “your nation grew until you had
conquered the entire globe. You and your children may be content to
wander the Thunderhell, to fight the nomadic tribes that already
claim this land, but eventually you’ll return to the villages
and towns of my nation. You will either have to make war or change
your ways.”

Jatuk was
silent. “What can we do?”

Pug said,
“Abide. Leave those of us to the south alone and we will leave
you alone. When we have disposed of Fadawah and his men, and have
restored peace to our land, we shall turn our minds and will to the
problem of finding the Saaur a proper home.”

Jatuk thought on
this, and at last said, “Do not take too long in making things
so, Black Robe, for my people are coming to like living here. Should
too much time pass, we shall resist leaving.”

“I
understand,” said Pug. To himself he added, Now if I can only
get Patrick to understand. He pushed that thought aside as food was
put before Nakor and him, and decided the opportunity to learn more
about the Saaur was too good to ignore. He would worry about
Patrick’s reaction when he returned to Darkmoor in the morning.

Patrick said,
“You did what?”

Pug said, “I
gave them assurances we would aid them in relocating
out
of
the Kingdom after we disposed of Fadawah.”

“But they
agreed to leave?”

“Yes, if
we can find them a reasonable alternative.”

“Find them
an alternative!” Patrick shouted.

The full court
was about to commence, and the Prince was holding an impromptu
interview with Pug, Nakor, Arutha, and his sons. “Those
monsters killed three hundred of my men!”

Arutha said, “A
misunderstanding, Highness.”

“A
misunderstanding?” Patrick appeared unconvinced. Turning to Pug
he said, “Why did you disobey me? I ordered you to destroy them
if they wouldn’t quit the Kingdom at once.”

Pug was growing
tired of the young Prince’s manner. “Highness, I am not
an executioner. I have fought for the Kingdom, but I will not use my
powers to destroy an entire race because you are piqued.”

“Piqued!”
Patrick’s temper exploded. “You dare to talk to me in
such a fashion?”

Pug stood,
looked at Arutha, then said, “Explain things to the boy, or I
will go to his father and have this discussion with the King. And
when I get finished, Borric may have to reconsider who is running
this half of his Kingdom.”

The Prince’s
eyes widened, and as Pug turned to leave, Patrick shouted, “I
have not given you leave to depart!”

Pug ignored the
Prince and walked out through the door. Nakor stood and said to
Arutha, “I’d better go with him.” To Patrick he
said, “And you better listen to him, boy. For he is powerful
enough to be your greatest ally, or your worst enemy.”

Patrick’s
mouth fell open at the little man’s added insult. He looked at
Arutha, who only shook his head slightly and said, “We have
court, Highness.”

Dash and Jimmy
exchanged glances but said nothing. Patrick stood motionless for a
long minute, then composed himself. “You are right, my lord
duke. We mustn’t keep the court waiting.”

As Jimmy and
Dash ducked out of a side door, Jimmy said, “Duke Pug has a lot
of confidence in his ability to persuade the King he’s right to
embarrass the Prince that way.”

They walked
toward the courtyard. Dash said, “From everything I’ve
heard . . . well, it’s probably a well-earned confidence.”
He glanced around. “Look, we both know that Patrick’s got
a temper. We had enough fights with him when we were children. And we
know the King kept him off the throne of Krondor an extra year
because he didn’t think he was ready.”

Jimmy’s
voice lowered. “Well, he wasn’t.”

“He’s
still not,” said Dash.

Jimmy regarded
his brother and very quietly said, “Ready or not, he is the
Prince of Krondor. We are servants of the crown. We have no choice.”

Dash said,
“Father better keep him under control, or a lot of us are going
to die because we have no choice.” Dash’s voice turned
slightly angry. “Look, this isn’t a play-yard argument
over who gets to ride the pony first, or who is going to pick first
for the ball game. This is war, and it’s not going to be a
pretty one.”

Nakor came
around the corner. “Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking
for you.”

Jimmy grinned.
“For what?”

“I need to
get some information from you, and if you have what I need, we need
to go retake the Abbey of Sarth.”

Dash and Jimmy’s
eyes opened wide at that last statement. “Retake the abbey?”
asked Dash.

“If you
remember, your grandfather once told me a story about the time he had
to sneak into the Abbey of Sarth with that renegade moredhel
chieftain.”

Jimmy looked at
Dash. “Do you remember any story like that?”

“No,”
said Dash. “I thought I’d heard every story Grandfather
ever told.”

From behind them
a voice said, “No, you didn’t.”

They looked to
see Duke Arutha standing there. “But I remember that story.”

Nakor grinned.
“Subai has a goat trail over the mountains that leads to a
little valley down near the base of the mountain upon which the old
Ishapian abbey sits.”

Arutha paused
for a minute, then said, “So while we’re conducting the
business of establishing a court in Krondor, sending armies around
here and there, and while Fadawah’s agents are closely
watching, you want to sneak over the mountains, find mat secret
entrance into the basement of the abbey, capture and hold it until
Greylock can drive up into the town, and secure the area?”

“Something
like that, but leave out the ‘you’ business. Someone a
little younger should run this raid.” He glanced at the
brothers, who looked at each other.

“No,”
they said simultaneously. “That’s a task for the Eagles
or Pathfinders!” added Dash.

Arutha said,
“We’ll talk about it. But Nakor’s right. If I can
remember what Father told me about that entrance, and if it’s
still there and usable, we could shorten this war by a year.”

He walked away,
heading for the Prince’s morning court, and Jimmy turned to
Nakor. “Is Pug all right?”

“He’s
just frustrated,” said Nakor. “Patrick wants quick
solutions and Pug knows the same itch, but he’s old enough to
know that the quickest solutions often are the ones with the highest
price.” He put his hands on the brothers’ shoulders and
moved along the hall with them. “He must weigh things in his
mind, decide where his true loyalties lie.”

Jimmy said,
“Loyalties lie? He’s a noble of the Kingdom; he was
adopted into the royal family.”

“But he
has larger responsibilities,” said Nakor. “Remember, he
didn’t just save the Kingdom from destruction; he saved the
entire world of Midkemia, including all those men on the other side,
the Saaur, any Pantathians who may be alive out there, the
Brotherhood of the Dark Path, everyone.”