Raymond E. Feist - Serpentwar 4 - Shards of a Broken Crown

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BOOK IV

Duty cannot exist without faith.

-Bcnjamin Disrach

Earl of Beaconsfield

TANCRED, BK. II, CH. I

Prologue

THE GENERAL KNOCKED.

"Enter," said the self-styled King of the Bitter Sea as he looked up

from a hastily scribbled note just handed him by his Captain of Intelligence,

Kahil.

General Nordan entered and shook off the snow from his cloak. "You

found us a cold land to rule, Majesty," he said with a smile. He gave

Kahil the briefest nod of greeting.

Fadawah, former Commanding General of the Army of the Emerald

Queen, now ruler of the City of Ylith and the surrounding countryside,

said, "At least it's a cold land with food and firewood." He waved in a

vague fashion to the south. "We're still getting stragglers in from as far

away as Darkmoor who paint a bleak picture about conditions throughout

the Western Realm."

Nordan motioned to a chair and Fadawah nodded. while old companions,

they observed the formalities, as Fadawah prepared to launch

his spring campaign. The General still wore the ritual scars on his cheeks,

marks given him when swearing loyalty to the Pantathians. He had considered

attempting to find a witch or healing priest who could remove

them, for when he had finally realized that the Pantathians were as much

dupes as he was, he had killed their remaining high priest. As far as

Fadawah was concerned, he was no longer bound to anyone. He was his

own man, and he was in a rich land with an army. But Kahil had reminded

him the scars were intimidating and kept the men in awe of him.

Kahil had served the Emerald Queen before she had been destroyed by

the demon, but he had proven a valuable and trusted advisor since the

change in leadership of the invading army.

By last count over thirty thousand men had found their way into the

Raymond E. feist

south end of the province of Yabon. He had organized them, stationed

them, and now controlled all the lands from Ylith south past Quester's

View, north to the outskirts of Zun, west to the city of Natal, which was

now occupied by more of his own men than their own pitiful defenses.

He had also captured Hawk's Hollow, a small town, but one giving him

control of a vital pass through the mountains to the east.

"Some of the men don't like the idea of staying," said Nordan. The

stocky soldier rubbed his bearded chin, and cleared his throat. "They're

talking of finding a ship and going back across the sea."

"To what?" asked Fadawah. "To a land burned out and overrun by

barbarians from the grasslands? Besides the dwarven stronghold in the

Ratn'gari Mountains and some surviving Jehsandi in the North, what is

there left of civilization? Did we leave a city standing. Is there anything

there to support us?" Fadawah scratched his head. He wore a single long

fall of hair and shaved the rest of his head, another sign of his devotion

to the Emerald Queen's dark powers. "Tell any of the men who are talking

this way that come spring, if they can find a ship and take it, they're free

to leave." He looked off into space, as if seeing something in the air. "I

want no one here who isn't ready to serve me. We're going to have a

serious fight on our hands."

"The Kingdom?"

Fadawah said, "You don't think they're going to sit idly by and not

attempt to regain their lands, do you?"

"No, but they were terribly mauled at Krondor and Darkmoor. The

prisoners tell us they don't have much of an army left to put in the field."

Fadawah said, "If they don't bring their Army of the East over from

Darkmoor, true. But if they do, we need to be ready."

"Well," said Nordan, "we won't know until spring."

"That's only another three months," said Fadawah. "We need to be

prepared."

"You have a plan?"

"Always," said the wily old general. "I don't want a two-front war if

I can help it. If I was stupid, I could find myself in a four-front war." He

indicated a map on the wall of the room. They were currently occupying

the estate house of the Earl of Ylith, dead by all reports along with the

Duke of Yabon and the Earl of LaMut. "If our information is right, we

face a boy up in LaMut." He rubbed his chin. "We need to take LaMut

as soon as the spring thaw begins, and I want Yabon in our grasp by

midsummer. " He smiled. "Send a message to the leader in Natal . . . " He

turned to Kahil. "What's his title?"

"The First Councilor," supplied his Captain of Intelligence.

SHARDS OF A BROKEN CROWN

"Send the First Councilor our thanks for his hospitality in providing

billets for our men this winter, and send him some gold. A thousand pieces

should do."

"A thousand?" asked Nordan.

"We have it. And we'll get more. Then withdraw our men and bring

them here." He looked at his old friend. "That will at least keep the First

Councilor on our good side until we return to Natal, take and keep it."

He pointed to the map. "I want Duko and his men down in Krondor

by then."

Nordan raised an eyebrow in curiosity.'

Fadawah said, "Duko makes me uneasy. He's an ambitious man."

He frowned. "It was only chance that put you and me first and second

on the Pantathian's roles, else we could be taking orders from Duko."

Nordan nodded. "But he's a good leader, and he's always obeyed

without question."

"That he is, which is why I want him at the front. I want you down

behind him, in Sarth."

"But why Krondor?" Nordan shook his head. "There's nothing

there. "

"But there will be," said Fadawah. "That's their Western Capital,

their Prince's City, and they will move back there as quickly as they can."

He nodded to himself. "If Duko can keep them busy until we seize all of

Yabon, then we can turn our sights on the Free Cities, this Far Coast

region." He pointed to the western coast of the Kingdom. "We'll reoccupy

Krondor and move back toward the old battle line. What's that place?"

"Nightmare Ridge."

"Well named." Fadawah sighed. "I'm not a greedy man. Being King

of the Bitter Sea is enough. We'll let the Kingdom of the Isles keep their

Darkmoor and the lands to the east." Then he smiled. "For now."

"But first we must retake Krondor."

Fadawah said, "No, first we must make them think

Krondor.

we want to retake

These Kingdom nobles are not stupid, they are not self-consumed

like those of our homeland." He remembered how shocked the

Priest-King of Lananda had been when Fadawah and his army had refused

to heed his order to leave his city. "These are smart men, duty-bound

men; they will come at us, and they will come hard. We must

expect that.

"No, let them think Krondor is the prize, and when they realize we

are firm in Yabon, perhaps they will negotiate, or perhaps not, but either

way, once we have control of Yabon, we are here for good. Let Duko get

punished lest he become ambitious."

Raymond E. ifeist

Nordan stood. "If you permit, I'll tell the men those who wish to

leave in the spring may."

Fadawah waved his permission.

One

"Majesty," said Nordan, leaving Fadawah alone with Kahil. ~

To Kahil, Fadawah said, "Wait, then follow Nordan and see who he

speaks with. Mark the men who are the leaders of these dissidents. They

will have accidents before the thaw, and then we can put to rest this

nonsense about returning to Novindus."

"Of course, Majesty," said the Captain of Intelligence. "And I applaud

your design in putting Nordan down in Sarth."

Fadawah said, "Design?"

Kahil leaned over, putting his arm around Fadawah's shoulder, and

he whispered, "Put all your disloyal commanders to the south, to insure

that when the enemy exacts their price for our conquest, those we can

most afford to lose pay it."

Fadawah's eyes became unfocused, as if he was listening to something

in the distance. "Yes, that is wise."

Kahil said, "You need to surround yourself with those who can be

trusted, those who are loyal beyond a doubt. You need to return the

Immortals to a place of prominence."

"No!" said Fadawah. "Those madmen served dark powers-"

Kahil interrupted. "Not dark powers, Majesty, but vast powers. Powers

that can insure your rule not only in Yabon, but in Krondor, too."

"Krondor?" asked Fadawah.

Kahil clapped his hands twice, and the door swung open. Two warriors,

each with ritual scars on his cheeks that matched Fadawah's, entered,

and Kahil said, "Guard the King with your lives."

Fadawah repeated, "Krondor."

Kahil rose and departed, closing the door behind him. A faint smile

passed across his face before he turned and left upon his next task, following

Nordan and marking those men for death who displayed even the

smallest hint of disloyalty.

Fadawah looked at the two soldiers and motioned for them to stand

away from him. The scars on their faces reminded him of the dark and

distant time he was caught up in the magic of the Emerald Queen and

the lost months when the demon had ruled her army. He hated feeling

used and would kill anyone who again attempted to use him as the Emerald

Queen had.

He moved to the map on the wall and began to plan his spring campaign.

THE WIND ~ died.

Dash waited. The frigid bite of the air still brought tears to his eyes

as he scanned the road below. The reconstruction of Darkmoor had been

tedious, slowed by continuous snows and rain, as the winter proved a

fickle one. If slippery ice wasn't making footing treacherous for those

workmen attempting to rebuild the walls around the western portion of

the city, then knee-deep mud stalled wagons carrying needed supplies.

Now it was icy again, but at least Dash was thankful there was currently

no snow. The sky was clear, the late afternoon-sun hinting at

warmth that wasn't really there. Dash knew it was his mood as much as

the weather, but this particular winter seemed to have lasted longer than

any in his young life.

The sounds of the city carried through the still, icy air as the day

wound down. With luck the new gate would be finished before sunset,

and an extra modicum of security would be added to the sum of things

that needed to be done yesterday.

Dash was tired, fatigued beyond anything he could remember in his

twenty years of life. Part of it was from the seemingly endless list of things

that needed attention, and the rest was from worry; his brother Jimmy

was overdue.

Jimmy was acting the part of exploring officer, a scout behind enemy

lines. Prince Patrick of Krondor had decided to move hard and fast against

a threat of Keshian expansion into the southern flank of the Kingdom in

the spring. That meant that the retaking of lands lost during the invasion

the previous summer would be left to Owen Greylock, Knight-Marshal of

Krondor, and Erik von Darkmoor, Knight-Captain of the Crimson Eagles,

an elite mobile force of handpicked men.

Which had meant the Prince needed information on what the invaders

were doing between Darkmoor and Krondor. And Jimmy had volunteered

to go see what was going on.

He was now three days overdue.

Dash had come to the edge of the patrolled area, a series of burned-out

walls that marked the western edge of the foulbourgh of DI~oor.

The Prince's army in the city insured that there was little danger within

a day's ride of the city, but these partial walls and piles of tumbled masonry

provided ample cover for ambush and had been refuge to more than

one band of scavengers or outlaws.

Dash scanned the horizon, watching for his brother. The sounds of

the winter woodlands below were few and infrequent. An occasional rustle

as snow fell from tree branches, or the crack of ice some miles away as

the thaw began. A bird call or the rustle of some animal in the brush.

Sound carried for miles in the winter cold.

Then Dash heard something. A faint sound, coming from far away.

It wasn't the sound of hooves striking hard dirt and rock Dash had hoped

to hear. Rather it was the rolling crunch of ice underfoot. And whoever

made the sound was coming toward him with a methodical step, even

and unhurried.

Dash flexed his gloved fingers and slowly pulled his sword from his

scabbard. If the previous conflict had taught him nothing else, it was to

always be ready. There were no safe positions outside the fortress that

was the city of Darkmoor.

In the distance he dected motion, and he focused on it. A single figure

trudged along the road. He was moving at a plodding walk, and as Dash

watched, he hurried to a slow trot. Dash knew he was walking one hundred

paces, then trotting one hundred paces, a practice drilled into Dash

and his brother by their arms teachers as boys. For a man without a mount

it could cover almost as much distance as a horse could in a day, more

over the course of weeks.

Dash watched. The figure resolved itself into a man wrapped in a

heavy grey cloak; clothing designed to make it difficult to see the wearer

from any distance in the gloom of winter. Only on the bright days when

the sky was clear would the wearer be easy to spot.

As the man on foot came closer, Dash saw he was without a hat, but

had his head covered in a thick cloth, a scarf or tom remnant of another

piece of clothing. He carried a sword at his side, and his hands were clad

in mismatching gloves. His boots were filthy with mud and ice.

The crunching of snow under his tread became louder by the moment,

until he stood before Dash. He stopped and looked up, and at last he said,

"You're in my way."

Dash moved his mount aside and swung the horse's head around

toward Darkmoor. He put his sword away, urged the animal forward and

walked beside the man on foot. "Lose your horse?" he asked.

Jimmy, Dash's brother, hiked his thumb over his shoulder. "Back

there. "

"That was pretty careless," said the younger brother. "That was an

expensive horse."

Jimmy said, "I know. But I didn't feel like carrying him. He was

dead. ' I

"Pity. That was a really good horse."

"You don't miss him nearly as much as I do," said Jimmy.

"Would you like a ride?" asked Dash.

Jimmy stopped, turned, and regarded his brother. Neither son of Lord

Arutha, Duke of Krondor, resembled the other. James looked like his

grandmother, slight, blond, and possessing features that could only be

called finely drawn, with sapphire eyes. Dash looked like his grandfather,

with tight curls of light brown hair, dark eyes, and a mocking expression.

In nature, they were as alike as twins. "About time you offered," said

Jimmy, reaching up to take Dash's hand.

He swung up behind his brother and they rode slowly toward the city.

"How bad was it?" asked Dash.

"Worse," said Jimmy.

"Worse than we thought?"

"Worse than anything we could have imagined."

Dash said nothing more, knowing his brother would report directly to

the Prince, and that Dash would hear every detail.

Jimmy took the hot cup of coffee, sweetened with honey and made

rich with cream, and nodded his thanks. The servant quickly departed,

closing the door behind him. Jimmy sat in the Prince's private chamber,

while the Prince, the Knight-Marshal Owen Greylock, Duke Arutha of

Krondor, and Erik von Darkmoor patiently waited for his report.

Patrick, Prince of Krondor and ruler of the Western Realm of the

Kingdom of the Isles, said, "Very well. What did you find?"

Jimmy finished his first sip of the hot drink, and said, "It's far worse

than we feared."

Patrick had detailed five men to ride into the West, toward Krondor,

his capital city, and only three of them had returned so far. The picture

he was having painted for him could be called nothing but bleak. "Go

on.')

Jimmy put his cup down on the table and started removing his heavy

Raymond E.Feist

SHARDS OF A BROKEN CROWN

cloak as he said, "I got to Krondor. It took some doing, but most of the

remaining soldiers between here and there are nothing more than bandits.

After a couple of months of snow, rain, and sleet, they are dug in, hugging

their fires and trying hard to stay alive.?)

"what of Krondor?" Patrick asked.

Jimmy said, "It's almost deserted. There were a few people around,

but no one wanted to talk to me, and frankly, I wasn't anxious to strike

up many conversations myself. Most of those I caught a glimpse of were

soldiers, foraging for what they could find in the rubble."

Jimmy stretched, as if tired. He took another sip of coffee. "Though

what they could possibly find is beyond me." He looked at Patrick. "Highness,

Krondor looks like nothing I've seen before or could dream of in

my worst nightmare. Every stone blackened, and almost no board unburned.

The smell of char still lingers in the air and it's been months since

the fires. Rain and snow have yet to cleanse the city.

"The palace-"

"What of the palace?" asked Patrick, his voice anxious.

"Gone. The outer walls stand in place, but great breaches exist. The

inner palace is little more than a huge pile of blackened rubble-the fire

was so hot the timbers burned through and some inner walls collapsed.

Only the ancient keep still stands, if you use the term 'stands' generously.

It's a blackened shell of stones. I climbed the stone steps inside, for no

wood remains untouched, and reached the roof. From there I could see

the entire city and some distance to the north and west.

"The harbor is a sea of sunken ships, their masts blackened and rotting.

The docks are gone. Most of the first street after the docks has been

leveled. All the buildings in the western third of the city have been gutted

or reduced to rubble, as if the fires burned the hottest there."

Arutha, Duke of Krondor, nodded. His father, Lord James, who had

preceded him in his office, had fired the city to trap the invaders inside

the flames, and had died, along with his mother, in doing so. Arutha knew

the placement of Quegan fire oil in the sewers below the city would have

concentrated the damage where his father would have judged it most appropriate,

at the docks, near the ships unloading troops, then throughout

the maze that had been the poor quarter of the city, then the merchant

quarter.

"The central third of the city is seriously damaged, but there may be

a building or two that can be salvaged on every street. The rest will have

to be razed before any construction can begin. The easternmost third is

also heavily damaged, but many of the buildings there can be restored."

"What of the outlying estates?" asked Erik, thinking of his friend

Rupert's large house, a day's ride to the east of Krondor.

"Many burned to the ground; others were sacked and left empty. A

few of them were being used as headquarters for what I took to be companies

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BOOKIVDutycannotexistwithoutfaith.-BcnjaminDisrachEarlofBeaconsfieldTANCRED,BK.II,CH.IPrologueTHEGENERALKNOCKED."Enter,"saidtheself-styledKingoftheBitterSeaashelookedupfromahastilyscribblednotejusthandedhimbyhisCaptainofIntelligence,Kahil.GeneralNordanenteredandshookoffthesnowfromhiscloak."Youfoundu...

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