Raymond E. Feist - Darkwar 1 - Flight Of The Nighthawks

VIP免费

2024-12-20 0 0 1.03MB 239 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

Raymond E. Feist

FLIGHT OF THE NIGHTHAWKS

The Darkwar

Book One

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As I have done in the past and will continue to until Midkemia is no more, my

thanks everlasting to the mothers and fathers of Midkemia for giving me a wonderful

sandbox in which to play. From Thursday to Friday nights, for thirty years your

voices echo in my ear each time I sit down to spin a yarn on our world. To Jonathon

Matson, as always, my thanks for friendship and wise counsel.

To my editors, for always trying hard no matter how crazy the circumstances.

To my mother, for always inspiring me through sheer endurance and unqualified

love.

To my children, for giving me a reason for existing beyond mere self-gratification

and personal goals.

To those ladies with whom I dine, thanks the amusement, the affection, the drama,

and the glimpse into a world I barely understand.

To new friends and to enterprises that keep things interesting. Again to my readers,

who let me keep doing this. Without any of the above mentioned, and some I'm

leaving out would not be worth enduring, let alone living.

Raymond E. Feist San Diego, CA July, 2005

For Andy and Rich,

long overdue thanks for stepping in and being there at the right time

Fate will bring together those a thousand miles apart;

without fate, they will miss each other though they come face to face.

Chinese proverb

• PROLOGUE •

Harbinger

THE STORM HAD BROKEN.

Pug danced along the edge of the rocks, his feet finding scant purchase as he made

his way among the tide pools. His dark eyes darted about as he peered into each pool

under the cliff face, seeking the spiny creatures driven into the shallows by the

recently passed storm.

His boyish muscles bunched under his light shirt as he shifted the sack of

sandcrawlers, rockclaws, and crabs plucked from this water garden. The afternoon sun

sent sparkles through the sea spray swirling around him, as the west wind blew his

sun-streaked brown hair about. Pug set his sack down, checked to make sure it was

securely tied, then squatted on a clear patch of sand. The sack was not quite full, but

Pug relished the extra hour or so that he could relax. Megar the cook wouldn't trouble

him about the time as long as the sack was almost full. Resting with his back against a

large rock, Pug settled in to relax. He opened his eyes suddenly. He had fallen asleep,

or at least he knew he had fallen asleep here once . . . He sat up.

A cool wet spray struck him in the face. Without having closed his eyes, somehow

time had passed. Fear rose up within his chest, and he knew he had stayed much too

long. Westward, over the sea, dark thunderheads were forming above the black

outline of the Six Sisters, the small islands on the horizon. The roiling, surging

clouds, with rain trailing below like some sooty veil, heralded another of the sudden

storms common to this part of the coast in early summer. The winds drove the clouds

with unnatural fury and distant thunder grew louder by the moment.

Pug turned and looked in all directions. Something was terribly wrong. He knew he

had been here many times before, but. . . He had been here before! Not just in this

place, but living this moment!

To the south, the high bluffs of Sailor's Grief reared up against the sky, as waves

crashed against the base of that rocky pinnacle. Whitecaps started to form behind the

breakers, a sure sign the storm would quickly strike. Pug knew he was in danger, for

the storms of summer could drown anyone on the beaches, or if severe enough, on the

low ground beyond. He picked up his sack and started north, towards the castle. As he

moved among the pools, he felt the coolness in the wind turn to a deeper, wetter cold.

The day began to be broken by a patchwork of shadows as the first clouds passed

before the sun, bright colours fading to shades of grey. Out to sea, lightning flashed

against the blackness of the clouds, and the boom of onrushing thunder rode over the

noise of the waves. Pug picked up speed when he came to the first stretch of open

beach.

The storm was coming in faster than he would have thought possible, driving the

rising tide before it. By the time he reached the second stretch of tide pools, there was

barely ten feet of dry sand between water's edge and cliffs. Pug hurried as fast as was

safe across the rocks, twice nearly catching his foot. As he reached the next expanse

of sand, he mistimed his jump from the last rock and landed . . . poorly. He had

twisted his ankle!

He had been here before, and when he had jumped he had twisted his ankle and a

moment later the waves had washed over him.

Pug turned to look at the sea and instead of the surge of water that would wash over

him, the water was pulling back! The sea gathered in on itself and as it pulled away, it

climbed higher and higher: a wall of water reaching angrily to the heavens. An

explosion of thunder erupted over his head and he ducked, crouching to avoid the

threat from above. Pug risked an upwards glance and wondered how the clouds had

gathered so quickly. Where had the sun gone?

The roiling breakers continued to mount the sky, and as Pug watched in dread, he

could see figures moving within the liquid wall. It resembled a barrier of sea-green

glass, clouded with sandy imperfections and explosions of bubbles, but transparent

enough to make out the shapes moving within it.

Armed creatures stood in ranks, poised and waiting to invade Crydee, and a word

came to Pug's mind: Dasati.

He turned, letting go of the sack in his hand as he attempted to reach higher ground.

He must warn Duke Borric! He would know what to do! But the Duke is dead, over a

century now.

Panic-stricken, the boy clambered up the low rise, his hands unable to find a firm

grip, his feet denied solid purchase. He felt tears of frustration rise in his eyes and he

glanced over his shoulder.

The black figures stirred within the mounting wall of water. As they stepped

forward the wave rose to impossible height, blackening out the already storm-grey

skies. Above and behind the massive wave a thing of dark anger revealed itself - a

murk without form and feature, yet coherent - a powerful presence with purpose and

mind. From it poured pure evil, a miasma of malevolence so vast that it caused the

boy to fall over backwards, sitting helpless as he waited.

Pug saw the dark army of the Dasati marching towards him, emerging from waves

turned black by the hateful thing in the sky. He slowly rose, balled his fists and stood

defiantly, yet he knew he was helpless. He should be able to do something, but He

was only a boy, not yet fourteen summers old, not even chosen for a craft, a keep-boy

without family or name.

Then, as the nearest Dasati warrior raised its sword, a malevolent cry of triumph

sounded, a bell-like clarion that brought the child to his knees. Expecting the blade to

fall, Pug watched the Dasati hesitate. Behind it, the wave - now taller than the tallest

tower in the keep at Crydee - also seemed to pause for a moment, then it came

crashing towards him, sweeping up the Dasati before bearing down upon the boy.

'Ah!' said Pug, sitting up in bed, his body drenched with perspiration.

'What is it?' asked the woman at his side.

Pug turned towards his wife, sensing more than seeing her features in the darkness

of their sleeping chamber. He calmed himself and said, 'A dream. Nothing more.'

Miranda sat up and put a hand on his shoulder. With the briefest gesture she brought

every candle in the bed chamber to life. In the soft glow from the candles, she saw the

sheen of moisture on his skin reflecting the flickering light. 'It must have been quite a

dream,' she said softly. 'You're drenched.'

Pug turned to regard her in the warm glow. He had been married to Miranda for

more than half his life now, yet he found her a constant mystery and occasionally a

challenge. But at moments like this he was grateful she was close at hand.

Their bond was a strange one for they were two of the most powerful practitioners

of magic on Midkemia and that alone made them unique to the other. Beyond that

their histories had intersected before they had met. Pug's life had been manipulated by

Miranda's father, Macros the Black, and even now as they lived together, they

occasionally wondered if their marriage might not have been another of his clever

plots. But whatever else, in each other they had found a person who could under-stand

their burdens and challenges as no one else could.

He got out of bed. As he crossed to a washbasin, and soaked a cloth in the water,

she said, 'Tell me of the dream, Pug.'

Pug began to clean himself off. 'I was a boy, again. I told you about the time I

almost drowned on the beach, the day Kulgan's man Meecham saved me from the

boar.

This time I didn't get off the beach, and the Dasati rose from within the storm.'

Miranda sat up and moved back, resting her shoulders against an ornate headboard

Pug had given her years before. She said, 'The dream is understandable. You're

feeling overwhelmed.'

He nodded, and for a brief instant in the soft light of the candles she glimpsed the

boy he must have been. Those moments were rare. Miranda was older than her

husband - more than fifty years his senior, but Pug carried more responsibility than

anyone else in the Conclave of Shadows. He rarely spoke of it, but she knew

something had happened to him during the war with the Emerald Queen years before,

during the time he had lingered between life and death, his body a mass of burns from

a mighty demon's magic. Since that time he had changed, he had become more

humble and less sure of himself. It was something only those closest to Pug saw, and

then only rarely, but it was there.

Pug said, 'Yes, I feel overwhelmed. The scope of things . . . makes me feel . . .

insignificant at times.'

She smiled, got out of bed and came up behind her husband. Over a hundred years

old, Pug looked no more than forty years of age - his body was still trim and athletic,

though there was a touch of grey in his hair. He had already lived two lifetimes, and

while Miranda was older, Pug had suffered more during his years. He had been held

captive as a Tsurani slave for four years, and had then risen to become one of the most

powerful men of that empire - a Great One, a Black Robe - a magician of the

Assembly.

His first wife, Katala, had left him to return home and die among her people,

succumbing to a disease that no priest or healer could cure. Then Pug had lost his

children, something no parent should ever have to endure. Of his oldest friends, only

Tomas abided still, for the others had only been allotted a mortal's span. Some,

Miranda had known briefly, but most were merely names she recalled from his

stories: Prince Arutha, who Pug still held in awe even after all these years; the

Prince's father, Lord Borric, who had given Pug a family name; Princess Carline, the

object of his boyish infatuation; Kulgan, his first teacher, and Meecham, Kulgan's

companion.

The list of names went on, but they were all dead. Laurie, his companion in the

slave swamps on Kelewan, Squire Roland, so many of his students over the years,

Katala ... his children, William and Gamina, their children. For a moment he thought

of his two surviving sons. 'I'm worried about Magnus and Caleb,' he said softly, his

tone betraying his concern as much as the words.

She hugged him tightly from behind. His skin felt cool and clammy. 'Magnus is

hard at work with the magicians of the Assembly on Kelewan and Caleb should reach

Stardock Town tomorrow. Now come back to bed and let me comfort you.'

'You are always a comfort,' he said softly. He turned slowly in the circle of her

arms. Facing her, he again marvelled at his wife's appearance. Beautiful, but strong.

The planes of her face were softened by a high forehead and a delicate chin, and her

eyes were dark and piercing. 'There are times when I feel I barely know you, given

your penchant for secrets, my love. But there are also times when I know you better

than anyone, even myself. And I am certain that no one understands me better you

do.' He held her tightly for a moment, then whispered, 'What are we to do?'

What we must, my love,' she whispered in his ear. 'Come, to bed. Dawn is still hours

away.'

With a wave of her hand Miranda extinguished the candles, and the room was

plunged back into darkness. Pug followed his wife to bed and they nestled down

together, seeking comfort in each other's arms.

Pug's mind wrestled with the images from his dream but he pushed them aside. He

knew what was troubling him: once again circumstances were forcing him to act

against improbable odds, and that he must again deal with the repercussions of events

that had taken place long before his birth.

Why, he thought, must I spend my life cleaning up after other people? But even as

he framed the question, he knew the answer. He had made peace with his gifts years

ago, and with such power came responsibility. Try as he might, it was in his nature to

be responsible.

Still, he thought as sleep returned, it would be lovely to return - even if only for one

day - to the time when he and Tomas were boys, filled with the hopes and ambitions

of youth, when the world had been a much simpler place.

• CHAPTER ONE •

Brothers

THE BOYS BURST THROUGH THE DOOR.

Chickens scattered; one moment they had been peacefully pecking the ground,

seeking spilled grain and the occasional insect, the next they were squawking in

protest, and scurrying in all directions as the two boys hurtled past and landed in the

village street with loud grunts.

To passersby the boys appeared as a flurry of fists, elbows and knees rolling on the

ground pecked clean by the chickens. Trashing about, their blows were ineffective but

heartfelt as each boy sought enough leverage to land a winning strike, while at the

same time prevent his opponent from punching back effectively. The result appeared

to be more of a pointless wresting match than a serious fight.

The boys appeared to be roughly the same size and age - about sixteen summers old.

The dark-haired youth wore a maroon-coloured tunic and leather trousers. He was

slightly shorter, but possessed broader shoulders and was arguably the stronger of the

two. The boy with dark-blond hair was dressed in a blue tunic and leather trousers. He

possessed a longer reach, and was arguably faster.

They had been raised as brothers for almost their entire lives and, like brothers

everywhere, were prone to conflict in an instant. Both were handsome after a rough

fashion: sunburned and possessing the lean strength gained from long hours of hard

work and barely adequate food. Neither boy was stupid, but at this moment they were

not behaving particularly brightly.

The cause of their current conflict hurried out of the door after them, shouting

angrily. 'Tad! Zane! Stop this right now or I won't go to the festival with either of

you.'

The struggling combatants appeared oblivious to her warning as they rolled in the

dust. 'He started it!' shouted the dark-haired boy.

'No I didn't!' countered the other.

The girl was the same age as the rivals. She had brown hair like Zane, and green

eyes like Tad, was smarter than both of them put together, and was arguably the

prettiest girl in Stardock Town.

An older woman followed Ellie from the house carrying a bucket of well water and

she unceremoniously tipped it over the boys.

Shouting at their sudden drenching, the lads released each other and sat up. 'Ma!'

shouted the blond boy. 'What'd you do that for? I've got mud all over me now.'

'Then go clean yourself up, Tad.' The woman was tall and regal looking, despite her

plain homespun dress. Her light brown hair had some grey, and her face was

sunburned and creased, but her expression was youthful. Looking at the darker lad,

she added, 'You too, Zane.' Her brown eyes were merry though her expression was

stern. 'Caleb will be here soon and then we're leaving with or without you two

hooligans.'

The two boys stood up, dusting themselves off as best they could, as the woman

threw a large cloth at them. 'Get the mud off with this, and then go to the well and

rinse it out!' she admonished the two boys. 'It's one of my good kitchen

Ellie stood looking at the hesitant brawlers. 'You idiots. I said I'd go with both of

you.'

But you said it to me, first,' said Tad. 'That means you'll dance with me first.'

'No it doesn't,' said Zane, ready to resume the fisticuffs.

Stop this before it starts again!' shouted the older woman, get out and clean

yourselves up!' Grumbling, the two boys complied.

Marie, why are they always fighting?' asked Ellie.

'They're just bored.' Then she looked at the younger girl. When are you going to tell

them?'

'Tell them?' said Ellie, feigning ignorance.

Marie laughed. 'You'd better tell them soon, girl. It's a poorly kept secret and they

might hear about it at the festival.

The girl's brow creased and her eyebrows raised as she made an expression of

exasperation. 'We used to be like family, you know?'

All things change.' The older woman looked around the town. When my family first

came here, Stardock Town was still a small place. Now it's twice the size. The

Academy was only half finished, now look at it.'

Ellie nodded as they both stared at the distant island across the lake. 'I see it every

day, Marie. Just like you do.'

The massive building dominated the island in the middle of the Great Star Lake,

rising like a dark mountain. The village that rested at the academy's edge now

engulfed the entire northeastern end of the island. Only those who served in the

Academy of Magicians lived there. Stardock Town had grown around the ferry station

to the island - at first just a simple trading stop, but now a bustling centre for

commerce in the region.

'Well, if Grame Hodover's anything like his pa, he'll start yakkin' as soon as he has

some ale in him.'

'And Tad and Zane will be throwing punches before anyone Cat) talk sense into

them,' finished Ellie.

'So, best sooner than later,' said Marie as she motioned for Ellie to follow her back

into the house. They entered a large, single-roomed building, with just enough room

for a hearth, a table, and bedding for three. Once inside she said, 'The boys are your

best friends, though they don't realize it right now. Each thinks himself in love with

you, but that's born from competition rather than for any serious reason I can see.'

Ellie nodded. 'I do love them, but like brothers. Besides, even if I wished to marry

one of them, father -'

'I know. Your father is the wealthiest shipper in Stardock Town and Grame's pa is

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

RaymondE.FeistFLIGHTOFTHENIGHTHAWKSTheDarkwarBookOneACKNOWLEDGEMENTSAsIhavedoneinthepastandwillcontinuetountilMidkemiaisnomore,mythankseverlastingtothemothersandfathersofMidkemiaforgivingmeawonderfulsandboxinwhichtoplay.FromThursdaytoFridaynights,forthirtyyearsyourvoicesechoinmyeareachtimeIsitdownto...

展开>> 收起<<

Raymond E. Feist - Darkwar 1 - Flight Of The Nighthawks.pdf

共239页,预览48页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Raymond E. Feist - Darkwar 1 - Flight Of The Nighthawks

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: