Читать книгу The Chaoswar Saga: A Kingdom Besieged, A Crown Imperilled, Magician’s End - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 22

CHILD ATTACKED.

The three demons she ambushed turned and presented an impressive array of fangs and claws, and one began to incant a spell. A magic-user! She modified her attack and ripped his throat out before he could continue his magic and he fell to the rocks, gurgling his cry of pain.

The other two would have overmatched her, but she now had allies and they came swarming over the rocks behind the two remaining demons and, despite being smaller, overwhelmed them quickly.

‘Eat,’ she said to her small band. ‘But that one is mine,’ she added, indicating the magic-user, and beckoned for Belog to join her. She desired magic and without a teacher, eating magic-users was her only means of acquiring that ability. Her skills were rudimentary, primitive even. She could channel a push of energy which might topple a small opponent, or cast a small flame, but that was all.

For an unknowable period of time she had been leading this band of demons across a rugged landscape, through volcano-strewn broken lands of basalt and red rock. The sky was dark grey at noon and the sun seemed to be in an odd orbit, never quite sinking below the horizon. Belog said that meant they were reaching a nexus, one of the six poles in their realm: the East Pole. The Darkness seemed to have converged on the Heart Nexus, where the East, West, North, South, Top, and Bottom Poles intersected. Energies cascaded unexpectedly along the surfaces of the clouds above them and the air stank of ash and bitter minerals as fiery mountains spewed clouds of dark smoke and cinders up into the canopy of grey and black.

Child had begun to gather followers over the last month, allowing those she felt unable to contribute to be devoured by the others. She was even generous in her allocation of who ate first, waiting until the end to claim her portion. She was still struggling to define herself, but at some point she had become aware of the concepts of generosity and gratitude. Being generous could engender thanks, or project weakness, depending on the context. Gratitude could generate true allegiance, or feigned loyalty disguising betrayal. She was struggling to find the nuances of these differences.

She was becoming more subtle, and Belog was becoming more fascinated. It was clear to him that she was unique among the People. She was something unpredictable. It was hard to know whether she was his greatest discovery or his most dangerous.

She glanced around as they ate. ‘I find this place … unpleasant. I preferred the last place we rested.’

He tilted his head slightly in a gesture she had come to understand meant he was pondering what she had said and was framing a reply. He scratched at his cheek absently with a sharp, gleaming talon and said, ‘Really? The energy planes are far more dangerous in these volcanic tablelands. The vortex rifts and void windows can destroy with a touch or snatch you out of this reality and transport you to another.’ He made a claws snapping gesture for emphasis.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why, but it pleased me to look at the cascading lights in the night and see the shimmering silver lights during the day. It gave me a similar feeling to when I eat something particularly tasty or look at certain males.’ As she said this, she cast a glance at one of the young male demons who had been spared because he was on his way to becoming a daunting fighter. Muscular arms hung from a massive upper torso, yet his waist was still small and his legs were slender. Were they still living in the city of Das’taas, he would have long since been killed and consumed or recruited as a soldier in one Demon Lord’s faction or another, perhaps even marked to become a City Guardian or palace guard.

Belog observed Child watch the male and sighed silently. She would choose to mate soon and that could create difficulties. The nature of the People was that procreation was an adjunct to the spawning pits, where life in the realm originated and where demonkind arose. It was from the pits that a demon re-emerged after death, with some or all memories intact depending on the circumstances of death. Violent deaths, which were in the majority, often robbed the demon of some memory. But birth was another aspect of creation, and it was relatively infrequent. Demons had mated for pleasure as long as they had been in existence, but the societies in which they lived were never stable enough for young to be successfully produced in any significant number. Rarely did a pregnant female survive, and when a child was born, it was often devoured, often by its own mother in retribution for the pain and inconvenience of child-bearing. A few mothers chose to nurture their child, perhaps thinking to create their first vassal, but it rarely ended well. Adolescent demons were always fractious and rarely around for long; those that survived to adulthood tended to the cunning or powerful, and picked their conflicts wisely.

The rise of the kings had changed things, in the First Kingdoms and now the Second Kingdoms, and Dahun had been foremost in reforming and remaking his people; the spawning pits still existed – how could they not? But families, a new and alien concept, were mandated and pairs were appointed to breed, Child’s mother and father among them.

No one could claim to understand why Lord Dahun had done this, but none would openly question him. It was supposed by the Archivists that at some point he would instruct them on what was to come next in the forced evolution of the People, but the arrival of the Darkness had thrown all into chaos.

When Dahun vanished, society had not just reverted to its former state: it had disintegrated. Those left surviving the anarchy that once was Dahun’s Kingdom would be little better than the Mad Ones, let alone the Savages in whose lands they now trespassed. Belog was forced to admit that if it wasn’t for the strength of Child’s will and personality, this little band would not exist, and he would most certainly already be dead.

He watched as Child finished devouring the brain of the magic-user and applied herself to his torso while keeping her gaze upon the young male. Finally she said, ‘I like his look.’

‘Beauty,’ said Belog. ‘You have come to appreciate the enjoyment that is derived from perceiving things that are pleasing to look at, irrespective of their usefulness or danger. You feel better just looking at the energy plains or the setting sun, or that young male.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said. ‘Tell me more about beauty,’ she instructed, and he did.

They left the volcanic plateau and found themselves entering a realm of thick bramble, black with huge thorns, shot through with meandering pathways that might lead somewhere. ‘Where are we?’ Child asked Belog.

‘I am uncertain,’ he replied. ‘I believe we are in the region known as the Blasted Plain, a harsh land before we reach the heart of Maarg’s kingdom.’

‘Tell me about Maarg,’ she instructed. She motioned for her followers to gather around and Belog realized they now numbered almost two dozen. They tended to be quiet, out of fear, or gratitude, or respect, Belog didn’t care to speculate on which. He counted himself lucky that he was critical to Child and he wished to keep it that way. At worst, that would ensure he was the last one to be eaten by her. At best, he had a benefactor and protector who was growing in intelligence, physical power, and magical knowledge by the day.

He looked around trying to determine which course through the brambles might suit them best. He knelt for a minute and felt his jacket bind across his back. It had been an odd affectation on Dahun’s part to dress his Archivists in black coats and grey trousers. Given the diversity of shapes among demons, it had made for some particularly odd-looking Archivists at times. Still, it had made them instantly recognizable as were his guardians and enabled Belog to move freely throughout Dahun’s realm. However, Child’s generosity in feeding him was causing him to grow, a condition which used to be prevented by the careful oversight of the King’s Chief Archivist. In Dahun’s Kingdom you could be intelligent or powerful, but never both.

Finally Belog pointed and said, ‘I believe that way may be a wise choice.’

She looked at him with a odd expression and then he heard a sound he had never heard from a young demon: laughter. It was a different sort of laughter from that of the older demons, who laughed with a maniacal, joyless howl at the pain and destruction they caused, or at the crushing defeat of their enemies, or the lamentations and pleas for mercy from those about to be devoured. But this was something new: this was a laugh of amusement, not at another’s pain.

As he followed Child into the brambles, he thought, What are you becoming?

They hit several dead ends, and on the fourth, Child’s temper erupted, causing her to cast a ball of fire at the brambles that started a conflagration that had them running back the way they had come. Child collapsed a safe distance away and began to roar with laughter. The other demons looked from one to another and tried to mimic her mirth, but failed.

‘Can’t let my temper get the better of me,’ she mused as she stood up.

‘You always had that problem—’ Belog stopped. Where did that thought come from? Again, he was befuddled by this creature he was following and by his own changes, which he understood no better than he understood hers.

They left the forest of brambles and found themselves on a hillside looking down at an abandoned city, with desolate land surrounding it. ‘Maarg’s city,’ said Belog.

‘Again,’ she demanded, and he knew what she asked.

‘Maarg was the greatest of the Savage kings. He was a glutton and consumed all his enemies, growing massively obese as a sign of his majesty; he savoured raw power and his court was formed by trial by combat and by cunning. If a warrior killed his superior he gained his place and Maarg’s favour, for the King felt he was replacing a vassal with a stronger one.

‘His court was always a place of terrible balance between loyalty in exchange for protection and the potential for betrayal. It made Maarg especially vengeful and unforgiving.’

As Belog spoke he marvelled that there was no need for him to explain those concepts, for to understand vengeance you had to understand forgiveness. And forgiveness to any member of the People was an abstract concept. Even Archivists struggled to grasp it.

‘Tell me again of the part about him leaving and why?’

‘There are only rumours. It is said that somewhere in his city is a hall and in that hall is a gate to the higher realms. Someone from those higher realms opened that gate years past, and Maarg’s army poured through, devouring everything in their path.

‘It is said Maarg went there and perished, or found another realm to rule; but no one really knows.’ As they started down a long road to the city, Belog added, ‘Many kings of the Savage Lands, and even some companies of Mad Ones came here, seeking to take this for themselves. Yet they did not stay.’

‘Why?’ asked Child.

‘It is lifeless.’

She stopped and the rest of her entourage did so as well. She said, ‘Yes, I sense it.’

‘Sense it?’

She resumed walking. ‘It’s a feeling. What caused this?’

‘It is something like the Final Death, I think,’ he said.

At that the usually-silent demons who followed Child halted, some muttering, a few looking at her in abject fear. For a demon there were two deaths: the one that occurred many times in the course of existence, where death returned their essence to the spawning pit. But then there was the Final Death, when all existence ceased, consumed in some fashion by a nameless horror; and that above all else was feared by a demon. From the Time Before Time there was only one way for a demon to die the Final Death, and that was for something to prevent the energies from returning to the spawning pits.

Then came the Darkness and now it was believed that to be touched by it was to die the Final Death. Certainly no being alive from the spawning pits remembered confronting the Darkness and returning. And the Darkness had been growing at the heart of the realm for millennia. Only the oldest, most powerful, demons even remembered any of the People who had once lived in the First Kingdoms. And now the Second Kingdoms were being consumed as the Darkness expanded.

Kings and their vassal lords had fled. Some had conquered territory in the Savage Lands, or even in the land of the Mad Ones. Others had found portals to other realms and warred there, conquering all before them, feasting on life that was not enough, never enough. Stories were told and no one knew what to believe. It was even said that hosts of demons raged across the skies of other realms, warring with mortal races.

Child said to her group, ‘Follow if you will or return the way we came, but behind lies the Darkness and ahead is merely the unknown.’

As if that was reassurance enough, the demons nodded and when she moved forward, they followed.

They entered the city as the sun was setting. To some demons day and night were meaningless, since they possessed senses that allowed them to live nocturnally. Others, like Belog, were at risk in darkness, so the band had got into the habit of seeking shelter at night. Sleep was unknown to demonkind, except as a means of relaxation, a rare event, or meditation, which was again rare for all but the Archivists.

They entered a building that appeared at one time to have been a barracks or dormitory, although all the furniture had been destroyed by a series of violent struggles. The walls were darkly stained from blood spattered for countless years.

They had just sat down to rest when the Mad Ones attacked.

Although little more than mindless animals, they were still among the most physically powerful of demonkind. Given equal size, a Mad One would overpower even the most skilled warrior of the Second Kingdom unless he was fully armed and armoured or possessed magic.

They came out of the shadows as the sun set in the west, darker shapes against the greying light. They were massive of shoulder and two were four-legged, dog-like in their form, with massive heads on powerful necks and slavering fangs. The others were roughly man-shaped, but their heads were animal: ram, bull, lion, or bear, with exaggerated tusks and fangs, large horns, feathers, fur, or scales.

Two of Child’s followers were dead before they even knew enemies were upon them, their heads literally plucked from their necks. Child came to her feet and without hesitation put out her hand and a wall of searing flames exploded out in a sweeping wave that caused half a dozen Mad Ones to burst into mystic sparks and vanish.

Another four hesitated and then leapt at her, perhaps thinking her magic exhausted. With a thrust of her hand she shot out a bolt of energy that propelled one of the dog-like creatures through the air, slamming it so hard against the wall that its bones cracked.

The other four-legged being launched itself at her and she simply reached out, swung it around and threw it hard against the opposite wall, breaking its back. The last two hesitated, and died for their uncertainty. Child took one step forward and with a slice of her talon slashed open both their throats, causing steaming blood to fountain across the room.

She turned to find the young male she had admired earlier upon the back of the last Mad One, his fangs fastened deep in the bull-headed demon’s neck. He howled in pain but the young male persisted and with a loud grunt of victory finally bit through the thick muscle and the Mad One collapsed.

Instantly all the remaining demons in Child’s party began to feast. Even Belog was overcome with the smell of blood and the release of energies. Child batted away some of her companions as she claimed her victims’ heads. She always ate the brains, no matter how primitive the mind: her hunger for knowledge was insatiable.

They devoured every body in the room, including their two fallen comrades. When they were finished, Child studied them. Two were budding flyers. Not yet able to sustain long flight, but able to hover for a short time and to scout ahead. Five were males who were starting to become warriors. She smiled at the thought of keeping them loyal; she was maturing and the desire to mate was rising daily. There were five worker male demons, two imps, and four immature females. The females would have to be controlled and developed carefully. Unlike the males, who as a rule became warriors or labourers, the females had a variety of potential roles. Perhaps one as a pleasure creature, a succubus, to amuse the males when she needed to have them diverted; and the other three could be many things, including mothers.

She sat back. To Belog she said, ‘Tell the males to stand guard at the doors, and keep the others quiet. I need to consider things; I need to think.’

She retired to a corner, sat down with her knees hiked before her chin, her arms around her knees, and thought. Hours went by.

At dawn she arose and said to Belog, ‘Walk with me.’ To the others she said, ‘Stay here. We will return shortly.’

They complied and Child and the Archivist left the building. ‘You are growing larger,’ she said.

He removed his coat and displayed broader shoulders and chest, and arms far more muscled than before. ‘You are generous with food, Child.’

‘I no longer wish to be called that,’ she said.

‘What would you wish?’

She paused and said, ‘Mi …’ She hesitated.

‘Mistress?’ he offered.

She hesitated. ‘No, not Mistress.’ At last she said, ‘I do not yet know, but will tell you when I do. Until then Child will do.’

‘Yes, Child,’ he said without mockery. He knew when she was serious and now she was deadly serious.

‘I have lived before,’ she began.

He nodded.

‘Yet my memories of my previous life or lives are not there. Hints, fleeting images, but I can’t quite …’

She paused and after a minute when she didn’t continue he said, ‘It happens. If your last death was exceptionally violent and prolonged, knowledge fades while you die, so that the energies become fragmented and not all of them return to the spawning pit. You were born of a living mother, so even more energies were consumed in the birth. And if you died at the hands of an energy-drinker, there would be very little identity to return to the spawning pits. It would be as if one came close enough to the Final Death to feel its icy chill and somehow pulled back, to be reborn, but greatly reduced.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ she said dismissively. ‘The memories are there: I just can’t reach them.’

He had no idea what to say. Finally, he said, ‘What is your pleasure, Child?’

‘I need to change.’

‘You have been changing.’

‘No, I mean, I need to become something other than what I am. There are things in motion, powers roaming out there that demand more than I can give in this form.’

After a long, thoughtful moment, Belog said, ‘There are many powerful beings out there, Child. In the other realms they speak of invisible beings, powerful beings, called gods, who subvert plans and tinker with fate, distort reality and change time and space by will, providing benefit or harm at whim. In many realms it is said that some lesser beings have risen to become gods.’

She was silent for a very long time as she grappled with concerns Belog could only guess at. Finally she said, ‘Let us return. We must move on. There is somewhere we need to go.’

‘Where?’

She looked at him and smiled. ‘I do not know. Let us explore.’

The hall was enormous, filling half the massive palace that contained it. Even though it was deserted, there was a presence in it.

At the centre of the room a large opening yawned at them. It was a murder pit, where prisoners or others suffering the King’s displeasure were thrown to die, either at one another’s hands, or by some other means viewed as amusing to the monarch.

Around the murder pit were smaller, shallower feasting pits where prisoners would be brought in chains to be devoured by the King’s court. The iron restraining rings in the floor where those chains had been fastened were rusted and mute.

At the rear wall rose a massive dais upon which sat a marble throne. Child walked up to the throne and ran her hand over the surface. Dusty rags, the remnants of soft cushions upon which the monarch had rested, were the last vestiges of this city’s once-proud ruler. She stood studying the empty throne, as if she could somehow divine what it had been like when this city was a thriving centre of what passed for culture among the Savage Kingdoms. Her head was cocked to one side, as if she was listening to the silence. Then she moved away from it and pointed, ‘Over there.’

Belog looked where she indicated and saw nothing. The wall appeared unadorned except for sconces every ten feet or so where torches or lamps had once rested.

Now Child was touching the walls as she had the throne. Softly she whispered, ‘Do you feel it?’

He placed his hand upon the wall and felt only cold, lifeless stone. ‘Feel what, Child?’

‘Here there was once a portal, open from the other side, and here Maarg found entry into a higher realm.’ She turned and looked at her companion. ‘This is why Dahun warred with Maarg, even though it was in vain. For when Dahun breached this city, he found it led to a lifeless planet, for Maarg had devoured all life there when finding himself trapped there, with no means of returning. In the end he withered to nothing and died without returning to the spawning pits. It happened a long time ago.’ Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.

Almost afraid to ask, he said, ‘How do you know, Child?’

She pressed her cheek against the stone. Moisture glistened in her eyes for a moment, then she closed them. ‘I know,’ was all she said.

From the city they moved farther east, into the borders of the realms of the Mad Ones. In the month since they had left Child had recruited another score of followers, and these she nurtured as if they were her children. She was a strict mother, but gave bounty in a poor land in exchange for loyalty. She now had half a dozen flyers who scouted ahead for the group, and her males were now strong enough to confront all but the most powerful of the Mad Ones in single combat and stand a fair chance of winning. For the most part, small packs of Mad Ones gave them a wide berth. Those few times they had been attacked they had destroyed their foes and feasted, growing ever stronger.

Child began mating with the males. Belog was given the honour of being her first, because he was her first companion, and then one by one she took the others. Within weeks she had them completely bound to her and was learning a new concept: love.

She knew something about it from what she knew of the succubae, but they bound others to them by magic, by charm and glamour. The love she was experiencing was harder to understand. But she knew when she looked at Belog she felt differently to when she beheld the younger males. And although she enjoyed his company, occasionally a feeling of irritation arose in her that she couldn’t explain.

Feelings confused her and she needed to understand them but she was constantly frustrated by her inability to grasp them. Like quicksilver they dribbled between her fingers as she grappled with them.

They felt it before they saw it. Over a rise and out of sight, there was a presence. For over a week since leaving Maarg’s city they had been following a well-worn road into a gently descending valley. It was the only place they had found since leaving the bramble thickets where anything grew.

Tough-looking scrub trees with black bark and magenta leaves were surrounded by bright yellow grasses and tall violet reeds.

Something coursed through Child when she crested the ridge and saw what she had been sensing. The sensation she experienced was one of being drawn, compelled to go closer.

‘There is a portal,’ she said.

‘Where does it lead?’ asked Belog.

‘I do not know, but it is the reason everyone has left Maarg’s city. That road was worn by his entire realm having come this way.’

‘Perhaps it is an escape from the Darkness,’ whispered one of the males, made bold because Child had favoured him with a mating the night before.

She struck back without looking, ripping a gash across his face. ‘Speak only when I tell you,’ she commanded. Of all her companions, Belog was the only one she allowed any discretion when it came to addressing her.

She walked down the path and was accosted by alien scents and odd sounds. A faint vibration, too quiet to make out, emanated from the portal. It was a tall rectangle of grey with a scintillating sheen of colours playing across the surface like an oily rainbow on water.

‘It is calling,’ said Child.

‘I sense a desire to enter,’ agreed Belog. ‘But we know not what is on the other side.’

‘Yet it calls.’

The tug of desire was mounting by the moment.

‘Perhaps safety is on the other side,’ ventured one of the females who then cringed in anticipation of Child’s wrath.

But Child was unmindful of this second breach and simply said, ‘No, we do not know what is beyond.’ When she turned it was with a grin, but there was no humour in it.

Her features were changing and Belog was most aware of that since he had seen her in her childhood. She now had high cheekbones and piercing black eyes, a regal nose and a high forehead that swept back to a crest that fanned out behind her head like a crown. Her body was lithe and powerful, but hips and breasts were full like those of a succubus. Her teeth were gleaming white instead of yellow or black, with only her eyeteeth pointed, the rest being as flat as those of a lesser being.

She was changing and into what he had no idea, but he said nothing as she finished her thought.

‘But we do know what is behind us, and if it takes a lifetime or ten lifetimes, eventually the Darkness will reach this place.’ She glanced from face to face. ‘And I will not be here when it comes. Choose as you wish.’

She stepped into the portal.

A moment later, Belog followed.