Raymond E. Feist - Darkwar 02 - Into A Dark Realm

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Also by Raymond E. Feist

Magician

Silverthorn

A Darkness at Sethanon

Faerie Tale

Prince of the Blood

The Kings Buccaneer

Shadow of a Dark Queen

Rise of a Merchant Prince

Rage of a Demon King

Shards of a Broken Crown

Krondor: The Betrayal

Krondor: The Assassins

Krondor: Tear of the Gods

Talon of the Silver Hawk

King of Foxes

Exile's Return

Flight of the Nighthawks

With Janny Wurts:

Daughter of the Empire

Servant of the Empire

Mistress of the Empire

With William R. Forstchen:

Honoured Enemy

With Joel Rosenberg:

Murder in LaMut

With Steve Stirling:

Jimmy The Hand

Raymond E. Feist

INTO A DARK

REALM

The Darkwar

Book Two

Voyager

An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

77-85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.voyager-books.co.uk

Published by Voyager 2006

The Author asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

ISBN-13: 978 0 00 713377 2

ISBN 10: 0 00 713377 4

Typeset in Janson Text by

Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

Grangemouth, Stirlingshire

Printed and bound in Great Britain by

Clays Limited, St Ives plc

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publishers.

The book is proudly printed on paper which contains wood

from well managed forests, certified in accordance with

the rules of the Forest Stewardship Council.

For more information about FSC,

please visit www.fsc-uk.org

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As always, the many mothers and fathers of Midkemia, for giving me a world

in which to tell stories.

To my children, Jessica and James, for keeping me grounded no matter how

crazy the world around us gets.

To my mother for hanging in there.

To Jonathan Matson, again and always.

To my editors, in so many places, for caring about the work.

And to my readers; without you I'd be doing something a great deal less fun.

Raymond E. Feist

San Diego, CA July, 2006

This one is for Janny, Bill, Joel, and Steve

For sharing their talents

Contents

CHAPTER ONE Chase

CHAPTER TWO Oracle

CHAPTER THREE Aftermath

CHAPTER FOUR Nighthawks

CHAPTER FIVE Preparation

CHAPTER SIX Honest John's

CHAPTER SEVEN Deathknight

CHAPTER EIGHT New Directions

CHAPTER NINE Roldem

CHAPTER TEN Purging

CHAPTER ELEVEN Delecordia

CHAPTER TWELVE Enemies

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Change

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Celebration

CHAPTER FIFTEEN The White

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Lord

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Warriors

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Feast

CHAPTER NINETEEN Kosridi

CHAPTER TWENTY Crucible

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Betrayal

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Revelations

• CHAPTER ONE •

Chase

A WOMAN SCREAMED IN OUTRAGE.

Three young men overturned carts and pushed aside shoppers as they crashed

through the evening market. Their leader - a tall, rawboned youth with red hair -

pointed to the retreating back of their prey and shouted, 'There he goes!'

Night approached the port city of Durbin as desperate men raced through the

streets. Merchants pulled prized wares from tables as three young warriors

shoved anyone and anything blocking their pursuit. In their wake they left

consternation, curses and threats; all of which they ignored.

The summer heat of the Jal-Pur desert still clung to the walls and cobbles of

the city, despite the slight breeze off the sea. Even the harbour gulls were

content to stand idly by and watch for any morsel that might fall from a passing

vendor's cart. The more ambitious among them would launch themselves into the

air and soar for a moment or two, hanging languidly on the heat rising from the

dock stones, then quickly return to stand quietly near their brethren.

The evening markets were crowded, for most of the inhabitants of Durbin had

spent the blistering afternoon resting in the shade. The city's pace was leisurely,

for these were the hottest days of summer, and men who lived on the desert's

edge knew better than to struggle needlessly against the elements. Things were

as the gods willed.

So the sight of three armed and apparently dangerous young men pursuing

another, while hardly a remarkable experience in Durbin, was unexpected given

the season and the time of day. It was just too hot to be running.

The man attempting to flee was, from his look, a desertman: swarthy and

dressed in a baggy shirt and loose-fitting pantaloons, a midnight blue headdress

and open robe, his feet clad in low-topped boots. Those who followed were led by

a northerner, probably from the Free Cities or the Kingdom of the Isles. His

ginger hair was uncommon in the Empire of Great Kesh.

His companions were also young men, one broad-shouldered and dark of hair,

the other blond and of slighter build. They were all sunburned and dirty and had

hard expressions that added years to their appearance. Their attentions were

fixed on their quarry and their weapons were easily at hand. They were dressed

in garb that marked them as men from the Vale of Dreams - breeches, linen

shirts, riding boots and leather vests instead of robes and sandals. They were

most likely mercenaries, a likelihood accentuated by their grim determination.

They reached a boulevard that led to the docks, and the man fleeing dodged

between merchants, shoppers and dockmen heading home for the night. The

leader of those in pursuit paused for an instant then said, 'He's heading for the

grain-shippers' dock.' With a hand gesture he sent his blond-haired companion up

a side street, then motioned for the darker youth to come with him.

'I hope you're right,' said the shorter man. 'I'm getting tired of all this

running.'

With a quick glance that showed a grin, the leader said, 'Too much time sitting

in alehouses, Zane. We need to get you back to the Island and Tillingbrook's

tender mercies.'

Too out of breath to comment, the shorter youth just made a sound that

clearly indicated he found that remark utterly lacking in humour, as he quickly

wiped perspiration from his brow. He had to hurry just to keep up with his taller

companion. The inhabitants of Durbin were practised when it came to dealing

with duels, brawling, gang wars, riots, and all other manner of civil disorder. By

the time Jommy and Zane reached the corner around which they had seen their

quarry vanish, the alarm had outstripped them, and the street leading to the

docks was almost deserted. Passers-by, merchants, and seamen bound for

nearby inns and taverns had sensed coming trouble and vanished into whatever

scant cover they could manage. Doors closed, shutters slammed, and those that

couldn't get inside did their best to find shelter.

As Jommy Killaroo kept his eyes on the tiny figure of their fleeing target, Zane

con Doin glanced into every passed doorway, alley entrance or other cover for

potential ambush. All he saw were citizens of Durbin hunkering down, waiting for

the trouble to pass.

Jommy saw their man duck around a corner at the end of the boulevard, and

said, 'Right towards Tad if he's as fast as he usually is!'

Zane grinned. 'He is. Suri won't escape.'

For a month Jommy, Tad and Zane had been on the trail of this man, an

erstwhile trader named Aziz Suri, a desertman from the Jal-Pur who was

reputedly an importer of spices and oils from the Free Cities. He was also reputed

to be a freelance spy, broker in information, trader in secrets, and a close contact

of the Nighthawks, the Guild of Death. One month earlier, at the Emperor of

Kesh's Midsummer's Festival, a plot to destabilize the Empire and plunge it into

civil war had been prevented by agents of the Conclave of Shadows, and now

they were seeking out the remaining pockets of assassins, to put an end finally to

their centuries' long reign of terror.

Zane struggled to keep up with Jommy. While he was able to run as far as the

taller youth, he was not able to do so at his longer-legged friend's furious pace,

and maybe Jommy was right: maybe he had spent too many nights in the

alehouse. His trousers had been getting tighter of late.

As they reached the end of the street, they came upon the grain-shippers'

docks: a long series of stoneworks punctuated by three large derricks, fronting

onto two massive warehouses. From the far end of the dock Tad ran towards

them, shouting, 'In there!' and motioning that their quarry had slipped into the

narrow passage between the two warehouses.

Jommy and the two younger boys took no pains to hide their approach, for

after a month in Durbin they knew this area of the city fairly well: well enough to

know that their prey had dashed into a dead-end alley. When they reached the

narrow opening, the man bolted from it, heading straight towards the harbour.

The setting sun glinted red off the sea, and he squinted and turned his head,

raising his hands to shield his eyes.

Jommy reached out and got just enough of a grip on the man's arm for a

second to turn him completely around. The man flailed his arms, tipping off-

balance, as he vainly sought to keep his feet under him. Jommy reached out

again, trying to grab the man's tunic, but only succeeded in causing him to

stumble farther. Before anyone could get hold of any part of the slender trader,

he slammed into the centremost derrick.

Stunned for an instant, the desertman turned, teetered, and then as he

regained his wits, stepped off the edge of the pier.

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AlsobyRaymondE.FeistMagicianSilverthornADarknessatSethanonFaerieTalePrinceoftheBloodTheKingsBuccaneerShadowofaDarkQueenRiseofaMerchantPrinceRageofaDemonKingShardsofaBrokenCrownKrondor:TheBetrayalKrondor:TheAssassinsKrondor:TearoftheGodsTalonoftheSilverHawkKingofFoxesExile'sReturnFlightoftheNighthawk...

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