Читать книгу The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 19

MAGNUS WATCHED THOUGHTFULLY.

Three Tsurani magicians gathered around the Talnoy he had brought to Kelewan more than a year before. They all stood in a large chamber set deep in the bowels of the Assembly of Magicians on the Tsurani homeworld. Light was provided by a series of magical devices fastened to the walls, as torches tended to fill the air with a haze of smoke.

‘We believe we have come to understand the nature of this … thing, Magnus,’ said a magician named Illianda. ‘We have consulted with priests of several orders on the possibility of this creature housing a … soul, as you called it.’

Illianda, like his brother magicians, was dressed in a simple black robe. Unlike his brothers he was a tall, thin man. His height approached that of a citizen of the Kingdom, making him very tall for a Tsurani. Since the Riftwar, many Tsurani children had been exhibiting this uncharacteristic height. Illianda’s face was smooth shaven, like most Tsurani magicians, and he also shaved his head. His eyes were dark as sable and they were fixed on Magnus as he spoke. ‘Our main concern, however, is the problem of this thing acting like a beacon for this other world.’

Fomoine, a stout magician of a more traditional Tsurani stature, said, ‘We received a report yesterday of a wild rift located in an isolated valley to the north of the city of Barak in Coltari Province.’ Magnus’ interest was quickly piqued. ‘A herder saw a black rift appear in the sky and a flock of ill-omened birds flew through it. Vile creatures from his description.’

The third magician, Savdari, added, ‘One of our brothers transported himself to the valley and found a measure of residual energy from the rift formation. It is certainly not of this level of existence, and must be from this Dasati homeworld of which you have spoken.’

Fomoine said, ‘He also found the birds and destroyed them, but not until they had killed several of the herder’s needra. Our brother returned with three specimens and the remains are being examined now. These birds from the Dasati homeworld are analogous to the carrion birds of your world – crows I believe you call them – or the janifs here on Kelewan. They are, to say the least, far more aggressive and dangerous than our birds; the herder was forced to hide in a nearby thicket to save his life.’

‘This is troubling, indeed,’ said Magnus. ‘What luck have you had in duplicating the wards against these occurrences?’

‘Little. We feel humbled, once again, by the work of your legendary grandfather.’

Magnus’ eyebrow lifted slightly but otherwise he kept his face expressionless. He always found it nettling to have Macros the Black referred to as his grandfather. Macros had died before Magnus was born, and all he and Caleb knew about the man was what their mother had told them – most of which was hardly flattering. That he was a prodigious practitioner of the magical arts was undoubted, but in many ways he had proved a bigger confidence trickster than Nakor, and was a man who often pushed compassion and ethical considerations aside. By conservative estimates, tens of thousands had died as a result of his manipulations. The debate lay in whether they were necessary sacrifices, or if there could have been other means available to him to achieve the ends he sought? It was the sort of conversation Magnus and his father had enjoyed many times over the years: discussing the consequences of choices made by those with great power.

Magnus knew the official histories of the Kingdom well, and had studied various chronicles from historians in the Free Cities and a few personal journals that had come into Pug’s possession, but nothing rivalled the tales about the trials of the Riftwar, told to him and Caleb as boys by his father and Tomas when the boys visited Elvandar.

From time to time, Magnus felt the odd premonition that like his father and grandfather before him, he too would be tested. He feared failing that test, for he knew that like his progenitors, he would not bear the consequences of his choices alone.

Only Magnus’ mother seemed able to distance herself from such concerns. Miranda’s position had long been that without the Conclave’s participation in the conflict between the forces of good and evil, evil stood a far greater chance of reigning unchecked. Magnus tried not to visit that debate too often; he felt that his mother was more like her own father than she cared to admit.

Magnus said, ‘It’s unfortunate that those who found the Talnoy destroyed most of the warding spells when they removed the thing from its crypt.’ He again wondered how the Tsurani Great Ones would feel if they knew that there were an additional ten thousand of the creatures concealed in a vast vault in Novidus. Fortunately, the ward around that chamber was intact. Nakor, Magnus, Pug, and Miranda had all taken turns to study and try to learn Macros’ secrets.

Magnus saw the three Great Ones staring at him, as if they expected him to continue, so he said, ‘Perhaps my father has gained some insight since last I spoke to him.’

They nodded and Magnus felt frustrated. He had spoken to his father only an hour before coming back to Kelewan, so he doubted that Pug had come to any grand revelation since then. He had seemed more distracted by news coming from Great Kesh, that the Nighthawks were once more manifesting. He sighed. ‘I shall consult with him and return here in two days. I know he would want to be informed at once about the new rift you mentioned.’

Illianda stepped forward. ‘Please tell him that we think we have made one breakthrough. As I was saying, with the consultation of some of the more powerful priests of a number of temples, we think we can safely say that it is not a soul that empowers these things, but a spirit.’

‘I fail to see the difference,’ said Magnus.

‘For the sake of brevity, we’ll avoid most of the lengthy discussion we had with the priests. The soul is a specific quality of mind unique to the individual, and it is the part which flees to the realm of the gods upon the death of the body. The spirit, on the other hand, is a form of life energy and that is what drives the Talnoy.’

Magnus’ eyebrows raised and he looked genuinely surprised. ‘In other words, they’re haunted?’

‘The energy that once served the soul is now trapped within the creature. In our own experience, the soul and spirit are inexorably linked, but within these creatures, or rather the creatures who provided the life energy, they appear not to be. In other words, it is, at the heart of things, just another form of energy.’

‘And what can we infer from that?’

‘Two things,’ said Fomoine. ‘First, that most priestly arts will avail us little or nothing because we are not truly dealing with a soul—’

Savdari interjected. ‘Assuming that creatures of the lower circles have souls as we understand them.’

Fomoine threw his companion a dark look. ‘—therefore, all exorcisms, spiritual banishments and the like, will have no effect on them. It also means that they are mindless objects, and the spell of control used to fashion the ring you provided is truly a marvel of design, for it interprets intent and then translates it into commands for the Talnoy.’ His voice dropped, and he added, ‘Which means they have magicians of prodigious arts.’ Then he smiled. ‘But if there is any good to be found in all of this, it is this: because it’s a life force, it’s limited.’

‘Limited?’ said Magnus. ‘How can that be? The Talnoy has been resting under the hill on my world for thousands of years and is still active.’

Fomoine said, ‘It is our considered opinion that as long as none of the life force within the Talnoy is being utilized, it remains in reserve. But as it acts, moves, fights and does whatever it is instructed to do, the life energy runs out, and eventually …’ He shrugged. ‘… it will stop functioning.’

‘How long?’ asked Magnus. ‘This could be very important.’

‘Days, a few weeks at the most,’ said Illianda. ‘From what you told us, it walked and fought for what must be less than a few hours before you brought it here. Yet we can see a slight weakening in its strength as we have experimented on it. We have used the control ring to test its strengths and abilities and our entire use of it has amounted to less than half a day.’

Magnus was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘That would explain Kaspar’s report about why the Dasati seem to use their own soldiers in most of their conflicts. These Talnoy must be special assault troops.’

‘Their strength is in numbers, they would be nearly invincible for a short while. After that, however, I think they could be easily neutralized.’

Magnus nodded. ‘I can think of several ways to do that.’ He turned towards the doorway and said, ‘I will speak to my parents about the ward and in a day or two one of us will return with more information on the problem. Even if these things are few in number and short in endurance, the Dasati themselves are still a danger that should not be underestimated. We need to discover how Macros hid this thing from detection. Please keep us informed of any new rifts, if you would be so kind. Good day.’

The three magicians bowed as Magnus left, heading for the rift room where he would power up the gateway between Kelewan and Midkemia. Then they returned their attention to the Talnoy. All felt the same thing, there was something about this creature that Magnus was not telling them.

Nakor climbed through the narrow passageway between the outer cave and the vast inner chamber housing the ten thousand Talnoy. A solitary figure stood before him. ‘Greetings, Nakor,’ said the warrior decked out in white and gold armour.

‘Hello, Tomas. I hope your stay hasn’t been too tedious.’

The tall warrior nodded and said, ‘It brings back old memories. I spent months at a time in deep tunnels with the dwarves of the Grey Towers during the early years of the Riftwar.’ He glanced behind him at the row upon row of Talnoy standing motionless, like soldiers at attention, and said, ‘Still, there has been a noticeable lack of good conversation for the last few days.’

‘Pug appreciates your help,’ said Nakor with a grin.

Tomas stiffened and his head came up. ‘Do you hear horses?’

Nakor turned and looked towards the light streaming in through the small tunnel. After a moment, he said, ‘I do now.’ He glanced at the human-turned-Dragon Lord and said, ‘Your hearing is excellent.’ Tomas moved to investigate the noise, but Nakor said, ‘I’ll look. You stay here unless there’s trouble. It’s probably just a few ragged bandits. I’ll chase them away.’

Tomas laughed quietly as Nakor departed. Like many others before him, he had discounted Nakor when they had first met. The spindly-legged little man in the tattered robe, with the ever-present leather rucksack, seemed about as menacing as a day-old kitten, but over the years Tomas had discerned something of Nakor’s true nature. Now, he was inclined to agree with Pug – that Nakor might be the most dangerous man either of them had ever met.

Still, Tomas was not one to sit idly by if there was trouble approaching, and he was also bored, so he waited for a moment before climbing through the narrow tunnel to the smaller cave where the original Talnoy had been discovered, and waited near the back.

He could see Nakor standing before the cave’s entrance as a band of horsemen reined in.

‘Hello,’ said Nakor with a wide grin, one hand on the rucksack at his left hip, the other waving in greeting. Tomas edged closer so he could see past his friend.

There were five riders, young men with the look of a rag-tag bunch of wild adventurers rather than hardened bandits. They hardly seemed the type to offer real danger, but they were all armed and looked prepared for trouble should they find it.

One rode forward a few feet and laughed. ‘You are the most amusing thing I have seen in years, old man. We heard from a wagoner down in Jakalbra that there was a cave up here with treasure in it. So we thought we’d ride up and see for ourselves.’

He was a youngster, only twenty years of age or a bit older, but very broad of shoulders and tall, perhaps nearly as tall as Tomas’ six feet, six inches, and he had thickly-muscled arms and neck. He wore leather chest armour and leather riding breeches tucked into leather boots. His arms were bare, except for heavy leather bracelets circling his wrists. Raven hair hung past his shoulders and his ears were bedecked with golden rings. He had eyes the colour of night, set in a handsome face of sun-bronzed skin. And there was something about him that made Tomas draw his sword slowly.

Nakor shrugged. ‘If there was any treasure here, do you think I’d be wasting time sheltering myself from the hot sun? No, I’d be living like a raj down in Maharta!’ He laughed. ‘Treasure? Think on it, my young friend: if that had ever been true, by the time word of it reached you, someone would have already looted this cave.’ He turned and indicated with a gesture that the cave was empty.

‘Oh, sometimes people miss things,’ said the young man. ‘I think I’ll have a look for myself.’

Nakor stepped nimbly in front of him. ‘I don’t think you wish to do that.’

‘Why not?’ asked the young man, drawing his sword.

Tomas stepped into their view and stood barring the entrance. ‘Because I would be very annoyed if you tried.’

Nakor stepped to one side, his eyes scanning the area, making certain that he knew where the other four riders were. The young man’s companions took one look at the towering presence that was Tomas and suddenly an afternoon’s lark became a potentially deadly confrontation. One of the young men nodded to the other three, and they all turned and began riding away.

The young man glanced over his shoulder and laughed. ‘Cowards,’ he said. He eyed Tomas as he started circling to his left. ‘You’re a big one, that’s for sure.’

During Tomas’ boyhood, chance had placed him in a deep cavern where a Valheru, a Dragon Lord, one of the ancient rulers of Triagia world, once resided.

By donning the Valheru’s armour – the very suit he wore this day – Tomas’ mind and body had been changed, until he had become a living embodiment of that ancient race. The role of consort to the Elf Queen, being a father, and protecting of his adopted people had shaped him far more than the ancient legacy he carried, but it made him no less dangerous. There were perhaps only a dozen men who could face Tomas in combat and survive, and all of them were magic users. Even the finest swordsmen around, such as Talwin Hawkins, might only delay being cut down a few extra minutes.

Nakor turned his attention from the fleeing riders back to the lone youngster approaching Tomas. There was something about him that made Nakor feel uncomfortable. The little Isalani gambler walked over to the young man’s horse and took the creature’s reins. He led him a short distance away, giving the two combatants more room.

With a slightly mad glint in his eye the young man said, ‘You’re really going to try to keep me from going in there?’

‘I’m not going to try, boy,’ said Tomas. ‘You will not set foot in that cave.’

‘That makes it more difficult for me to believe there’s nothing of value in there worth seeing,’ he replied.

‘What you choose to believe is of no concern to me,’ said Tomas, as he stopped moving and made ready to receive the attack.

With a fluid motion and a speed which Nakor would not have thought possible, the black-haired youth stepped forwards and threw a wicked combination attack that actually caused Tomas to step back. Tomas blocked his blows, but they were fast and hard and he couldn’t take his eyes off his opponent.

Nakor felt around and found a short bush to tie off the horse as he kept his eyes fixed on the combat. The young warrior was more than merely a boy. There was an efficiency of strength and motion in his swordplay that outshone even the greatest swordsmen on Midkemia. And more, the ferocity of his blows was actually forcing Tomas to retreat.

The ring of steel on steel was as loud as hammer on anvil, and Nakor knew that this was far more than an ordinary youth they faced. As each second passed, the pitch and intensity of the battle increased, and soon the flow of the combat seemed like nothing but a frenzied assault.

As the youth continued his attack, Nakor suddenly realized what he had been sensing. ‘Don’t kill him, Tomas. I want to question him!’

Tomas was now hard pressed not to try for a kill, but he shouted, ‘I’ll try to keep that in mind, Nakor.’ The human-turned-Valheru had greater weapons than the strength of his arms, and he now decided that the contest had gone on long enough.

Tomas had attempted to tire his opponent out at first, having no desire to harm a young man whose only crime appeared to be recklessness. Yet now he was hard pressed to keep an advantage, and the youth seemed to be growing stronger with each passing minute.

Tomas said, ‘Enough!’ He began to disengage his blade when his opponent followed through. Tomas pushed forwards with all his strength, sliding his own golden blade along the boy’s steel so that they stood face to face. Suddenly, Tomas reached out with his left hand and seized the man’s right wrist.

Instantly he felt his own right wrist being seized in return, for it was the only move the youngster could make without being defeated quickly. Tomas was surprised by his strength, as it was far greater than that of any human he had faced. But it was still no match for the strength of a Dragon Lord reborn and Tomas used that strength to force the lad backwards.

Then came the instant that Tomas sought: his opponent was off balance In a move so swift that Nakor could hardly credit his senses, Tomas pushed, yanked and twisted his own blade, sending the youth sliding backwards on the seat of his trousers across the ground. His sword tumbled through the air to be caught in Tomas’ free hand.

The youngster was halfway to his feet before he felt two crossed blades pressed against either side of his neck. ‘I wouldn’t move,’ suggested Nakor.

Motionless, the young man looked at each blade, knowing that with one quick slice, Tomas could remove his head from his shoulders as easily as slicing a turnip. His eyes darted from the warrior, to Nakor, and back, and he said, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

Tomas said, ‘Now, if I let you get up are you going to show some manners?’

‘Assuredly,’ agreed the dark-haired youth.

Nakor came over and as Tomas stood away, the little man asked, ‘What is your name?’

The youth, towering over Nakor, looked down and grinned. ‘I’m Ralan Bek, little man. Who are you?’

‘I am Nakor. I’m a gambler. That is Tomas. He’s a Dragon Lord.’

Bek looked at Tomas and laughed. ‘As no man has ever bested me with a sword, I’ll accede to being bested by a legend. A Dragon Lord? I thought you were beings of myth.’

Tomas raised an eyebrow. ‘Only a few know about the myths. Where have you heard of the Valheru?’

Bek shrugged. ‘Here and there. From this tale and that. You know, stories around the campfire.’

Nakor said, ‘I would like to know more about you and your life.’

Bek laughed again. ‘I stand here without a weapon, so I’m inclined to tell you anything you wish to know, little man. Shall we have peace?’

‘Peace?’ echoed Nakor, looking at Tomas.

Tomas nodded. He reversed Bek’s sword and handed it to him. ‘Peace.’

The young man re-sheathed it and said, ‘So, there is some treasure in there, then?’

Nakor shook his head. ‘Gold and gems, no. But there is something of special interest to us and it would bring nothing but ill to anyone else. It is important, but it is also very dangerous.’

‘I’ll not dispute him again,’ said Bek, indicating Tomas, ‘just to see if you are lying or not. But what could be more valuable than riches?’

‘Knowledge is always valuable,’ said Tomas.

‘And dangerous, I have found,’ said Bek. He motioned to his horse. ‘If you have no objection, I should catch up with my companions. They are an unruly and troublesome bunch without me to tell them what to do. Besides, they’ll have drunk the inn at Dankino half dry by the time I get there.’

‘Actually,’ said Nakor, putting his hand on Bek’s arm – a soft gesture, but one which stopped the larger man immediately, ‘I was wondering if you would care to earn some gold in a more honest fashion than brawling?’

‘What do you mean?’

Nakor pointed to Tomas and said, ‘He guards the stuff I need to study. If we had another pair of sharp eyes and keen ears here, Tomas could return home and spend some time with his family.’

‘Dragon Lords have families?’ said Bek, a look of surprise on his face.

Nakor grinned and almost giggled when he said, ‘Where do you think little Dragon Lords come from?’

Tomas shook his head, but a warning glance from Nakor kept him silent. He didn’t know the Isalani gambler as well as Pug did, but over the years he had developed a respect for his instincts. If the little man wanted Bek to remain, there had to be a good reason.

Bek laughed at Nakor’s joke. ‘What does it pay?’

‘Straight to the point,’ said Nakor. ‘I like that. We’re pretty out-of-the-way here, but as you’ve just demonstrated, sometimes things happen that you don’t anticipate. We’ll pay you handsomely.’

‘How handsomely?’

‘Two gold coins a day, plus food.’

‘For how long?’

‘For as long as it takes,’ responded Nakor.

Bek lost his smile. ‘A few coins for a few days work guarding a cave from wild dogs and the occasional bandit is one thing, little man. But I wouldn’t welcome camping out here for longer than a week or so, even if I was paid three gold coins a day.’

‘You have somewhere else to be?’ asked Tomas.

Bek threw back his head and laughed. ‘Not particularly, but I always find it difficult to stay in one place for very long. My father used to hunt me down and beat me when he found me.’

Nakor’s eyes narrowed at the description. ‘You left home when you were, what? Thirteen, fourteen?’

‘Thirteen,’ said Bek, examining Nakor’s face. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I’m familiar with the story,’ said Nakor. ‘Would three gold coins a day make you a more patient man?’

Beck shrugged. ‘For three, I’ll give you a month, but after that I’ll want to go somewhere with beautiful whores and good ale to spend it!’

Nakor grinned. ‘Done.’

Tomas said, ‘Nakor, a word if you please,’ and directed the little man to join him on the other side of the cave. Softly, Tomas asked, ‘Are you certain you wish to do this?’

Nakor’s sunny expression vanished. ‘Not wish, must. This lad is … not ordinary.’

‘I cannot argue with that, Nakor. Of all the mortal swordsmen I have faced, he is easily the most dangerous. There is something supernatural about him.’

‘Exactly. His story sounded familiar because it is very similar to my own. I was that boy in a way. I had the same problems staying at home, and my father used to beat me too. I ran away when I was very young. It’s – it’s all the same!’

Glancing at the young swordsman, then back at the little gambler, he said, ‘Not entirely the same.’

‘Granted, I became a card cheat and he became a bandit, but the point is we have much in common. And it’s the same story that Macros told of his youth. It’s too much to be a simple coincidence. I wish to explore that further.’

‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

‘You remember the old saying: “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”, Tomas?’

Tomas said, ‘I remember.’

‘I think we want this lad to stay very close indeed. If my instincts are not playing me false and there’s an advantage to be had from this encounter, I’ll find it.’

‘No doubt you will. Now, what do you want me to do?’

‘Go home for a while. I’ll keep an eye on Bek and I’ll keep a watch on the cave until Magnus gets back from Kelewan. I have some ideas about how to control those things in there that I want to discuss with him.’

Tomas said, ‘Very well. I am pleased to be returning to my queen so soon.’

‘Do you need an orb?’ Nakor asked as he pulled a shiny metal object from his rucksack and offered it to Tomas.

‘Thank you. I could call a dragon to take me, but it does attract notice. And anyway, this is faster,’ he said, pressing a button with his thumb before disappearing.

Nakor turned to Bek and said, ‘Do you have any food in that saddlebag?’

‘Not really.’

Nakor approached the young man and drew a round object out of his sack. Tossing it to Bek, who caught it in the air, he said, ‘Want an orange?’

Bek smiled. ‘Love one.’ He began to peel it with his thumb. ‘What do we do now?’

‘We wait for some friends. You out here; me in there.’ He pointed at the cave mouth.

‘One thing,’ said Bek.

‘What?’

‘The three gold. It starts today.’

Nakor shrugged. ‘OK, then make yourself useful and get some wood for a fire.’

Bek laughed and turned to hunt firewood.

Bek rose slowly in the darkness and moved without making a sound. He tiptoed around the fire, picking up a small brand of burning wood as he gave Nakor’s slumbering form a wide berth. He entered the cave and quickly saw there was nothing inside, save the narrow tunnel.

He entered and quickly found his way to the ledge over-hanging the pathway down to the floor of the cavern. Even in the flickering light he could see the motionless Talnoy standing in their ranks.

His eyes widened like a child’s as he looked over each black metal warrior in glee. He grinned and whistled softly. ‘What have we here?’

Outside the cave, Nakor lay motionless. He had heard Bek enter the cave and knew that the young man would now be looking at the army of Talnoy.

After a few more minutes, he heard Bek return. Nakor was ready to move the instant he felt threatened, and after having seen Bek battle Tomas, he knew there might only be a moment for him to employ his most deadly ‘tricks’ to protect himself.

But Ralan Bek simply lay down on the other side of the campfire and quickly fell sound asleep. Nakor continued to lie motionless, but he was still awake when the sun rose the next morning.