Shards of a Broken Crown (58 page)

Wilks returned
and said, “Captain, Earl Richmond awaits your report and told
me to tell you the baggage train has arrived.”

“Good,”
said Erik, “I was beginning to worry.” To Jadow, he said,
“Relieve the men in the diamonds and get something to eat.”

“Sir,”
said Jadow with a casual salute.

Erik left the
diamond and paused to inspect the three positions for a minute. The
shields were damaged, as he expected, and he had ample replacements,
but the spears were almost used up. He turned to a soldier. “Johnson,
get a squad and move south to the woods near the road. Start felling
trees that we can use to make long spears.” The soldier
saluted, and Erik could tell from his expression he had no wish to be
doing anything but eating and sleeping, but during war few got to do
what they wished for.

Erik knew they’d
not have spearpoints, but sharpened, fire-hardened stakes would serve
to keep enemy horse at bay. And other weapons would be in the
baggage, machine parts for constructing catapults, oil for burning
out underground tunnels and firing wooden defensive positions. Erik
began to feel optimistic about being able to hold the position. He
had no thought at this moment about advancing, not with his entire
detachment of horse soldiers dashing toward Krondor.

He reached the
command tent and found the Earl sitting at his command table. “How
is the arm, sir?”

“Fine,”
said Richard. He smiled. “Do you want to know why our baggage
is late?”

“I was
wondering,” admitted Erik as he poured himself a mug of ale
from a pitcher on the table.

“Leland
forced them off the road,” said Richard, “so he could get
down to Krondor. Some of the wagons got stuck in the mud and it took
a half-day to get them out.”

“Well,”
said Erik with a laugh, “I’d have rather had them here
yesterday, but as long as they’re going to be late, I’ll
settle for that reason; I was afraid they’d been ambushed.”

Hot wet towels
were provided and Erik washed up. A servant went to his tent and
returned with a fresh tunic, and Erik sat with the Earl, the
teeth-gritting pressure of the day beginning to slip away slightly as
the ale relaxed him.

Food was
provided, and while plain camp fare, it was hot and filling, and the
bread was fresh baked. Erik bit off a large hunk of the hot flavorful
bread, and after he had swallowed, said, “One good thing about
holding a defensive position is our commissary has time to set up
their ovens.”

Earl Richard
laughed. “Well, there you have it; I was wondering if there was
even a hint of good in all this, and you found it.”

Erik said,
“Unfortunately, that may be about all the good there is to
wring out of this situation. I would trade all the hot bread in the
world to be outside the gates of Ylith, ready to storm the city with
our army.”

“Someone
once said that you can make all the plans you wish, but they all go
to naught as soon as the first elements in your army encounter the
enemy.”

“My
experience is that is true.”

“The truly
great field commanders can improvise”— Richard looked at
Erik—”as you do.”

“Thank
you, but I’m far from being anyone’s notion of a great
general.”

“You
underestimate yourself, Erik.”

“I wanted
to be a smith.”

“Truth?”

“Truth. I
was apprenticed to a drunk who failed to register my name with the
guild, and had he, I would probably have been moved from Darkmoor
before I killed my half-brother.” He went on and outlined the
story of how he had become a soldier, from murdering Manfred while in
a rage over Manfred’s rape of Rosalyn, the girl who had been
like a sister to Erik, and being tried and convicted of murder. He
told him of being pulled from prison by Bobby de Loungville, Lord
James, and Calis, and the journeys to Novindus.

When he was
done, Lord Richard said, “A remarkable story, Erik. We had
heard things in the East of some of those things Lord James did, but
only rumors and conjecture.” Lord Richard said, “My son
will follow me in my office, and perhaps rise even higher as a result
of this service, but you stand poised for greatness should you choose
to take advantage, Erik. With Greylock dead, it is but a short step
for you to take command of the Armies of the West.”

Erik said, “I
am unsuited for it; there is so much I don’t know about
strategy, long-range planning, the political consequences of things.”

“The fact
you know those issues exist places you ahead of most of us who might
be selected for the position on the basis of who our fathers were,
Erik. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

Erik shrugged.
“I don’t think I am, Richard. I’m Captain of the
Crimson Eagles, and a Court Baron as a result. That’s far more
than I wished to be. I thought I had everything I wanted when I was
named Sergeant. I only want to serve as a soldier.”

“Sometimes
we have no choice,” said Richard. “I wanted to grow
roses. I love my gardens. I don’t think I’m happier than
when I’m showing guests through them. I amuse my wife and annoy
our groundskeeper no end by puttering around out there, on my hands
and knees, pulling weeds.”

Erik smiled at
the image of the old man out there in the dirt. “Yet you do
it.”

“It makes
me happy. Find what makes you happy, Erik, and hold to it.”

“My wife,
doing a good job, the company of friends,” said Erik. “I
can’t think of much more.”

“You’ll
do, Erik von Darkmoor. You’ll do very well, should fate tap you
for greatness.”

They talked late
into the night.

Nakor pointed.
“That way.”

The Captain
said, “I can’t see anything in this fog. Are you sure?”

“Of course
I am,” said Nakor. “The fog’s an illusion. I know
where we’re going.”

“I’ll
remember you said that, sir.” The Captain appeared dubious.

Nakor had tried
a couple of “tricks” to contact Pug, but nothing seemed
to work. He was almost certain new defenses had been erected around
Sorcerer’s Isle, and upon entering the region of fog he was
certain that was the case.

Pug didn’t
want to be bothered by casual travelers, it seemed. When Nakor had
been in charge of the island, he had relied on the reputation of the
place, coupled with a menacing-looking castle with blue light
flickering in the tower windows.

Now the
defensive magic was stronger. Nakor had to correct the Captain’s
course, because while in the fog the tillerman was letting the ship
curve away from the island.

In the distance
he heard the sound of surf and said, “Get ready to lower sails,
Captain. We’re almost there.”

“How can
you—”

Suddenly they
were out of the fog, in brilliant daylight. Members of the crew
looked over their shoulders and saw a wall of fog which circled the
island like a fortress.

The castle still
stood atop the cliffs, a looming black presence that seemed to cast a
pall over the area. “Should we move farther down the coast?”
asked the Captain.

“This is
very good,” said Nakor. “They’ve added some new
tricks.” He looked at the Captain. “Everything is fine.
You just lower a boat, drop me on the beach, then you can go back to
Krondor.” The relief was obvious on the man’s face. “How
do we plot our course?”

“Just sail
through the fog, that way.” Nakor pointed. “If you’re
turned around a little in the fog, that’s fine, because it will
want to turn you away from the island anyway. You’ll come out
more or less pointed east, and you can get your bearings off the sun
or stars. You’ll be fine.”

The Captain
tried to look reassured, but failed.

The sails were
hauled in and a boat lowered, and within an hour Nakor stood on the
beach of Sorcerer’s Island. He didn’t bother to watch the
ship depart, as he knew the Captain would be raising sail even as the
boat that had dropped Nakor off was rowing furiously back. Pug had
done a wonderful job of casting a pall of woe and despair over anyone
sitting off the coast.

Nakor hiked the
path up from the beach, and where it split toward the castle and down
into the small valley, he chose the valley path. Nakor didn’t
even bother using the energy needed to shift his perceptions, as he
knew that when he reached the limit of the illusion he would pass
from the seemingly wild woodlands into a lovely pasture, dominated by
a rambling villa.

When the
illusion finally did shift, Nakor almost tripped in surprise. For
while the landscape was as he had expected it to be, there was one
feature that was totally unexpected. A golden dragon rested
comfortably next to the house, apparently asleep.

Nakor hiked up
his faded orange robe and hurried on spindly shanks until he was
before the dragon. “Ryana!” he shouted.

The dragon
opened one eye and said, “Hello, Nakor. Is there a reason
you’re waking me?”

“Why don’t
you change and come inside?”

“Because
it’s more comfortable sleeping like this,” said the
dragon, her voice revealing her mood as less than pleased.

“Late
night?”

“Flying
all night. Tomas asked me to bring him.”

“Tomas is
here! That is wonderful news.”

“You may
be the only one in Midkemia to think so,” rejoined the dragon.

“No, I
don’t mean the reason he’s here, I mean the fact he’s
here. That means I don’t have to explain things to Pug.”

“Probably
for the best,” said the dragon as a nimbus of golden light
surrounded her. Her form shimmered, the edges blurring, and the light
seemed to shrink until she was human size. Then she resolved into the
form of a striking woman with reddish blond hair, enormous blue eyes,
and a deep tan of gold.

“Put some
clothing on,” said Nakor. “I can’t concentrate when
you run around naked.”

With a slight
movement, Ryana created a long blue gown, which accentuated her
coloring. “How you can be the age you are and still act like
such an adolescent at times is beyond me, Nakor.”

“It’s
part of my charm,” said Nakor with a grin.

Ryana slipped
her arm in his and said, “No, I don’t think that’s
it. Let’s go inside.”

They walked into
the house and headed toward Pug’s study. When they got there,
they heard voices inside, and when Nakor knocked, Pug’s voice
said, “Come in.”

Ryana entered
first, and Nakor came in behind her. Pug’s study was large,
with a broad windowseat upon which Miranda sat. Tomas sat
uncomfortably in a chair that was obviously a little too small for
him, while Pug sat facing the two of them. If either Tomas or Pug
were surprised to see Nakor, neither showed it. Miranda grinned. “Why
am I not surprised to see you here?”

“I give
up,” said Nakor sitting down. “So, what are we to do?”

All eyes turned
toward him, and Pug said, “Why don’t you tell us?”

Nakor opened his
sack and reached in, up to his shoulder, as if feeling around.
Everyone in the room had seen him do the trick before, but the effect
was still comic. He fished out an orange and said, “Anyone want
one?”

Miranda held up
her hand and Nakor tossed it to her. He got another one for himself.
Nakor began to peel the orange. “Something amazing happened in
Krondor last week. A terrible thing and a wonderful thing. Or they
were both the same thing. Anyway, one of my students, a very special
woman named Aleta, was studying with Sho Pi—meditation, just
the basics—when suddenly a light gathered around her. She rose
in the air, and below her, trapped, was a very black thing.”

“A black
thing?” asked Miranda. “Could you be a little more
specific?”

“I don’t
know what to call it,” said Nakor. “It’s energy,
perhaps a spirit of some sort. Maybe by now some of the other clerics
from the different temples have figured out what it is. But it’s
something very bad. Maybe it’s left over from the demon. I
don’t know, but I think it was in place so that something could
happen in Krondor, later.”

“Later?”
asked Miranda, then she looked at Pug, who shrugged.

Tomas said, “I
have just been telling Pug that Captain Subai of the Pathfinders
reached Elvandar. It seems Greylock’s army is stalled south of
Quester’s View. And from what Subai reported, there is dark
power being used again.”

Nakor said,
“Yes, that makes a great deal of sense.” He was about to
say something, then hesitated. “A moment.” He made a
broad gesture with his hands and waved over his head, then the.room
crackled with energy.

Tomas smiled.
“Don’t lower the barrier prematurely this time.”

Nakor grinned in
embarrassment. The last time he had used this mystic shield to
protect them, he had lowered it too soon and the demon Jakan had
located them. “I put the field around the room. I’ll just
leave it up permanently. No agency of Nalar’s will ever be able
to spy on this room. Now we can talk without falling under his sway.”

At the mention
of Nalar’s name, Pug felt a prickling sensation in his head for
a moment, and suddenly barriers to his memory were lowered. Images
and voices swam in his consciousness, and things he had placed apart
in his mind were now accessible to him. “We must assume the
Nameless One has more servants.”

“Obviously,”
said Tomas. “The human sacrifices and other slaughter are means
for gathering power.”

“What
fascinates me,” said Nakor, “is what is happening in
Krondor.”

Pug smiled at
his occasional companion. “Obviously this new faith of yours is
having a direct effect.”

“Yes, but
that’s what I find odd and fascinating.” He pulled a
section from his orange and ate it. “I am no expert on issues
of faith, but I had the distinct impression it would take a few
centuries or longer for our new temple to have any effect.”

Miranda said,
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Nakor. It may be
the power was already there, and your little temple just happened to
be the convenient conduit.”