E-Book - Raymond Feist - Riftwar 2 - Silverthorn

Riftwar 2

SILVERTHORN

Raymond Feist

A poisoned bolt has struck down the Princess Anita on the day of her

wedding to Prince Arutha of Krondor.

To save his beloved, Arutha sets out in search of the mytics herb

called Silverthorn that only grows in the dark and forbidding land of

the Spellweavers.

Accompanied by a mercenary, a minstrel, and a clever young thief, he

wil confront an ancient evil and do battle with the dark powers that

threaten the enchanted realm of Midkemia.

"I found Silverthorn to be as exciting and absorbing as Magician in

every way. The excellent characterization wedded to a tight and

well-tuned plot makes it one of the outstanding fantasy offerings of

the season." --Andre Norton

Prologue

Twilight

The sun dropped behind the peaks.

The last rays of warmth touched the earth and only the

rosy afterglow of the day remained. From the east, indigo

darkness approached rapidly. The wind cut through the

hills like a sharp-edged blade, as if spring were only a

faintly remembered dream. Winter's ice still clung to

shadow-protected pockets, ice that cracked loudly under

the heels of heavy boots. Out of the evening's darkness

three figures entered the firelight.

The old witch looked' up, her dark eyes widening

slightly at the sight of the three. She knew the figure on

the left, the broad, mute warrior with the shaved head

'and single long scalp lock. He had come once before,

seeking magic signs for strange rites. Though he was a

powerful chieftain, she had sent him away, for his nature

was evil, and while issues of good and evil seldom held

any significance for the witch, there were limits even for

her. Besides, she had little love for any moredhel,

especially one who had cut out his own tongue as a sign

of devotion to dark powers.

The mute warrior regarded her with blue eyes, unusual

for one of his race. He was broader of shoulder than

most, even for one of the mountain clans, who tended to

be more powerful of arm and shoulder than their forest-

dwelling cousins. The mute wore golden circle rings in his

large, upswept ears, painful to affix, as the moredhel had

no lobes. Upon each cheek were three scars, mystic

symbols whose meaning was not lost upon the witch.

The mute made a sign to his companions, and the one

to the far right seemed to nod. It was difficult to judge,

he was clothed in an all-concealing robe, with a deep

hood revealing no features. Both hands were hidden in

voluminous sleeves that were kept together. As if speak-

ing from a great distance, the cloaked figure said, 'We

seek a reading of signs.' His voice was sibilant, almost a

hiss, and there was a note of something alien in it. One

hand appeared and the witch Pulled away, for it was

misshapen and scaled, as if the owner possessed talons

covered with snakeskin. She then knew the creature for

what it was: a priest of the Pantathian serpent people.

Compared to the serpent people, the moredhel were held

in high regard by the witch.

She turned her attention from the end figures and

studied the one in the centre. He stood a full head taller

than the mute and was even more impressive in bulk. He

slowly removed a bearskin robe, the bear's skull providing

a helm for his own head, and cast it aside. The old witch

gasped, for he was the most striking moredhel she had

seen in her long life. He wore the heavy trousers, jerkin,

and knee-high boots of the hill clans, and his chest

was bare. His powerfully muscled body gleamed in the

firelight, and he leaned forward to study the witch. His

face was almost frightening in its near-perfect beauty.

But what had caused her to gasp, more than his awesome

appearance, was the sign upon his chest.

'Do you know me?' he asked the witch.

She nodded. 'I know who you appear to be.'

He leaned even farther forward, until his face was lit

from below by the fire, revealing something in his nature.

'I am who I appear to be,' he whispered with a smile. She

felt fear, for behind his handsome features, behind the

benign smile, she saw the visage of evil, evil so pure it

defied endurance. 'We seek a reading of signs,)' he

repeated, his voice the sound of ice-clear madness.

She chuckled. "Even one so mighty has limits?'

The handsome moredhel's smile slowly vanished. 'One

' may not foretell one's own future.'

Resigned to her own likely lot, she said, 'I require

silver.'

The moredhel nodded. The mute dug a coin from out

of his belt pouch and tossed it upon the floor before the

witch. Without touching it, she prepared some ingredients

in ,a stone cup. When the concoction was ready, she

poured it upon the silver. A hissing came, both from the

coin and from the serpent man. A green-scaled claw

began to make signs, and the witch snapped, 'None of

that nonsense, snake. Your hot-land magic will only cant

my reading.'

The serpent man was restrained by 'a gentle touch and

smile from the centre figure, who nodded at the witch.

In crroaking tones, her throat dry with fear, the witch

said, 'Say you then truly: What would you know?' She

studied the hissing silver coin, covered now in bubbling

green slime.

is it time? Shall I do now that which was ordained?'

A bright green flame sprang from the coin and danced.

The witch followed its movement closely, her eyes seeing

something within the flame none but she could divine.

After a while she said, "The Bloodstones form the Cross

of Fire. That which you are, you are. That which you are

born to do, . . . do!' the last word was a half-gasp.

Something in the witch's expression was unexpected,

for the moredhel said, 'What else, crone?'

"you stand not unopposed, for there is one who is your

bane. You stand not alone, for behind you . . . I do not

understand.' Her voice was weak, faint.

'What?' The moredhel showed no smile this time.

"Something . . . something vast, something distant

something evil.'

The moredhel paused to consider, turning to the ser-

pent man, he spoke softly yet commandingly. "Go then,

Cathos. Employ your arcane skills and discover where

this seat of weakness lies. Give a name to our enemy.

Find him.'

The serpent man bowed awkwardly and shambled out

of the cave. The moredhel turned to his mute companion

and said, "Raise the standards, my general, and gather

the loyal clans upon the plains of Isbandia, beneath the

towers of Bar-Sargoth. Raise highest that standard I have

chosen for my own, and let all know we begin that which

was ordained. You shall be my battlemaster, Murad, and

all shall know you stand highest among my servants.

Glory and greatness now await.

'Then, when the mad snake has identified our quarry,

lead forth the Black Slayers. Let those whose souls are

mine serve us by seeking out our enemy. Find him!

Destroy him! Go!'

The mute nodded once and left the cave. The moredhel

with the sign on his chest faced the witch. "Then, human

refuse, do you know what dark powers move?'

"Aye, messenger of destruction, I know. By the Dark

Lady, I know.'

He laughed, a cold humourless sound. 'I wear the sign,'

he said, pointing to the purple birthmark upon his chest,

which seemed to glow angrily in the firelight. It was clear

that his was no simple disfigurement but some sort of

magic talisman, for it formed a perfect silhouette of a

dragon in flight. He raised his finger, pointing upwards. "I

have the power.' He made a circular motion with his

upraised finger. 'I am the foreordained. I am destiny.'

The witch nodded, knowing death raced to embrace

her. She suddenly mouthed a complex incantation, her

hands moving furiously through the air. A gathering of

power manifested itself in the cave and a strange keening

filled the night. The warrior before her simply shook his

head. She cast a spell at him, one that should have

withered him where he stood. He remained, grinning at

her evilly. 'You seek to test me with your puny arts,

seer?'

seeing no effect, she slowly closed her eyes and sat

erect, awaiting her fate. The moredhel pointed his finger

at her and a silver shaft of light came forth, sinking the

witch. She shrieked in agony, then exploded into white-

hot fire. For an instant her dark form writhed within the

inferno, then the flames vanished.

The moredhel cast a quick glance at the ashes upon the

floor, forming the outline of a body. With a deep laugh

he gathered up his robe and left the cave.

Outside, his companions waited, holding his horse. Far

below he could see the camp of his band, still small but

destined to grow. He mounted and said,

'To Bar-Sargoth!' WIth a jerk on the reins he spun his horse and led the

mute and the serpent priest down the hillside.

1

Reunion

The ship sped home.

The wind changed quarter and the captain's voice rang

out, aloft, his crew scrambled to answer the demands of a

freshening breeze and a captain anxious to get safely to

port. He was a seasoned sailingmaster, nearly thirty years

in the King's navy, and seventeen years commanding his

own ship; And the Royal Eagle was the best ship in the

King's fleet, but still the captain wished for just a little

more wind, just a little more speed, since he would not

rest until his passengers were safely ashore.

Standing upon the foredeck were the reasons for the

captain's concern, three tall men. Two, one blond and

one dark, were standing at the rail, sharing a joke, for

they both laughed. Each stood a full four inches over six

feet, and each carried himself with the sure step of a

fighting man or hunter. Lyam, King of the Kingdom of

the Isles, and Martin, his elder brother and Duke of

Crydee, spoke of many things, of hunting and feasting, of

travel and politics, of war and discord, and occasionally

they spoke of their father, Duke Borric.

The third man, not as tall or as broad of shoulder as

the other two, leaned against the rail a short way off, lost

in his own thoughts. Arutha, Prince of Krondor and

youngest of the three brothers, also dwelt upon the past,

but his vision was not of the father killed during the war

with the Tsurani, in what was now being called the

Riftwar. Instead he watched the bow wake of the ship as

it sliced through emerald-green waters, and in that green

he saw two sparkling green eyes.

The captain cast a glance aloft, then ordered the sails

trimmed. Again he took note of the three men upon the

fOredeck and again he gave a silent prayer to Kilian,

Goddess of Sailors, and wished Rillanon's tall spires were

in sight. For those three were the three most powerful

and important men in the Kingdom, and the sailingmaster

refused to think of the chaos that would befall the

Kingdom should any ill chance visit his ship.

Arutha vaguely heard the captain's shouts and the

replies of his mates and crew. He was fatigued by the

events of the last year, so he paid little attention to what

was occurring about him. He could keep his thoughts

only upon one thing: he was returning to Rillanon, and

to Anita.

Arutha smiled to himself. His life had seemed unremarkable

for the first eighteen years. Then the Tsurani

invasion had come and the world had been forever

changed. He had come to be counted one of the finest

commanders in the Kingdom, had discovered an unsuspected

eldest brother in Martin, and had seen a thousand

horrors and miracles. But the most miraculous thing that

had happened to Arutha had been Anita.

They had been parted after Lyam's coronation. For

nearly a year Lyam had been displaying the royal banner

to both eastern lords and neighbouring kings, and now

they were returning home.

Lyam's voice cut through Arutha's reverie. 'What see

you in the wave's sparkle, little brother?'

Martin smiled as Arutha looked up, ' and the former

Huntmaster of Crydee, once called Martin Longbow,

nodded towards his youngest brother. 'I wager a year's

taxes he sees a pair of green eyes and a pert smile in the

waves.'

Lyam said; 'No wager, Martin. Since we departed

Rillanon I've had three messages from Anita on some

matter or other of state business. All conspire to keep

her in Rillanon while her mother returned to their estates

a month after my coronation. Arutha, by rough estimate,

has averaged better than two messages a week from her

the entire time. One might draw a conclusion or two

from that.'

"I'd be more than anxious to return if I had someone of

her mettle waiting for me,' agreed Martin.

Arutha was a private person, ill humoured when it

came to revealing deep feelings, and he was doubly

sensitive to any question involving Anita. He was imposseibly

in love with the slender young woman, intoxicated

with the way she moved, the way she sounded, the way

she looked at him. And while these were possibly the

only two men on all Midkemia to whom he felt close

enough to share his feelings, he had never, even as a boy,

shown good grace when he felt he was the butt of a jest.

As Arutha's expression darkened, Lyam said, "Put

away your black looks, little storm cloud. Not only am I

your King, I'm still your older brother and I can box your

ears if the need arises.'

The use of the pet name their mother had given him

and the improbable image of the King boxing the ears of

the Prince of Krondor made Arutha smile slightly. He

was silent a moment, then said, 'I worry I misread

this. Her letters, while warm, are formal and at times

distant. And there are many young courtiers in your

palace.'

Martin said, 'From the moment we escaped from

Krondor, Your fate was sealed, Arutha. She's had you in

her bow mark from the first, like a hunter drawing down

on a deer. Even before we reached Crydee, when we

were hiding out, she'd look at you in a certain way. No,

she's waiting for you, have no doubt.'

"Besides,' added Lyam, 'you've told her how you feel.'

"Well, not in so many words. But I have stated my

fondest affection.'

Lyam and Martin exchanged glances. 'Arutha,' said

Lyam, 'you write with all the passion of a scribe doing

year-end tax tallies.

All three laughed. The months of travel had allowed a

redefinition of their relationship. Martin had been both

tutor and friend to the other two as boys, teaching hunting

and woodcraft. But he had also been a commoner, though

as Huntmaster he stood as a highly 'placed member of

duke Borric's staff. With the revelation that he was their

father's bastard, an elder half brother, all three had

passed through a time of adjustment. Since then they had

endured the false camaraderie of those seeking advantage,

the hollow promises of friendship 'and loyalty from

those seeking gain, and during this time they had discovered

something more. In the others, each had found

two men who could be trusted, who could be confided in,

who understood what this sudden rise to preeminence

meant, and who shared the pressures of newly inflicted

responsibilities. In the other two, each had found friends.

Arutha shook his head, laughing at himself. 'I guess I

have known from the first as well, though I had doubts.

She's so young.'

Lyam said,) "About our mother's age when she wed

Father, you mean?'

Arutha fixed Lyam with a sceptical look. 'Do you have

an answer for everything?'

Martin clapped Lyam on the back. of course,' he said.

Then softly he added, "That's why he's the King.' As

Lyam turned a mock frown upon Martin, the eldest

brother continued. 'So when we return, ask her to wed,

dear brother. Then we can wake old Father Tully from

before his fireplace and we can all be off to Krondor and

have a merry wedding. And I can stop all this bloody

travel and return to Crydee.'

A voice from above cried out, 'Land ho!'

'Where away?' shouted the captain.

"Dead ahead.'

Gazing into the distance, Martin's practised hunter's

eye was the first to perceive the distant shores. Quietly

he placed his hands upon his brothers' shoulders. After a

time all three could see the distant outline of tall towers

against an azure sky.

Softly Arutha said, 'Rillanon.'

The sounds of the light tapping of footfalls and the rustle

of a full skirt held above hurrying feet accompanied the

sight of a slender figure marching purposefully down a

long hallway. 'The lovely features of the lady rightly

acknowledged the reigning beauty of the court were set

in an expression of less than pleasant aspect. The guards

posted along the hall stood face front, but eyes followed

her passage. More than one guard considered the likely

target of the lady's well-known temper and smiled

inwardly. The singer was in for a rude awakening,

literally. In a most unladylike fashion, Princess Carline, sister to

the King, swept past a startled servant who tried to jump

aside and bow to her at the same time, a feat that landed

him on his backside as Carline vanished into the guest

wing of the palace.

Coming to a door, she paused. Patting her loose dark

hair into place, she raised her hand to knock, then halted.

Her blue eyes narrowed as she became irritated by the

thought of waiting for the door to open, so she simply

pushed it open without announcing herself.

The chamber was dark, as the night curtains were still

drawn. The large bed was occupied by a large lump

beneath the blankets that groaned as Carline slammed

the door behind her. Picking her way across the clothing-strewn

floor, she yanked aside the curtains, admitting the

brilliant midmorning light. Another groan emitted from

the lump as a head with two red-rimmed eyes peeked out

over the bedcovers. 'Carline,' came the dry croak, 'are

you trying to wither me to death?'

Coming to stand over the bed, she snapped, 'if you

hadn't been carousing all night, and had been to breakfast

as expected, you might have heard that my brothers' ship

had been sighted. They'll be at the dock within two

hours.'

Laurie of Tyr-sog, troubadour, traveLer, former hero

of the Riftwar, and lately court minstrel and constant

companion to the Princess, sat up, rubbing at tired eyes.

'I was not carousing. The Earl of Dolth insisted on

hearing every song in my repertoire. I sang until near

dawn.' He blinked and smiled up at Carline. 'Scratching

at his neatly trimmed blond beard, he said, 'The man

has inexhaustible endurance, but also excellent taste in

music.'

Carline sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, and

kissed him briefly. She deftly disengaged herself from

arms that sought to entangle her, Holding him at bay

with her hand upon his chest, she said, 'Listen, you

amorous nightingale, Lyam, Martin, and Arutha will be

here soon, and the minute Lyam holds court and gets all

the formalities done with, I'm talking to him about our

marriage . '

, Laurie looked around as if seeking a corner in which

to disappear. Over the last year their relationship had

developed in depth and passion, but Laurie had a near-reflexive

avoidance of the topic of marriage. "Now, Carline- '

he began. "'

"Now, Carline," indeed!' she interrupted with a jab of

her finger into his bare chest. "You buffoon, I've had

eastern princes, sons of half the dukes in the Kingdom,

and who knows how many others simply begging for

permission to Pay court to me. And I've always ignored

them. And for what? So some witless musician can trifle

'with my affections? Well, we shall have an accounting.'

Laurie grinned, pushing his tousled blond hair back

He sat up and, before she' could move, kissed her deeply.

When he pulled away, he said, 'Carline, love of my

being, please. We've covered this ground.'

Her eyes, which had been half-closed during the kiss,

instantly widened. 'Oh! We've covered this ground

before?' she said, infuriated. "We will be married. That is

final.' She stood up to avoid his embrace again. 'it has

become the scandal .of the court, the Princess and her

minstrel lover. It's not even an original tale. I am becoming

a laughing-stock. Damn it all, Laurie, I'm nearly

twenty-six. Most women my age are eight, nine years

married. Would you have me die a spinster?'

'Never that, my love,' he answered, still amused.

Besides the fact of her beauty, and the slim chance of

anyone's calling her an old maid, she was ten years

his junior and he regarded her as young, a perception

constantly furthered by her outbursts of childish temper.

He sat up fully and spread his hands in a gesture of

helplessness as he stifled his mirth. 'I am what I am,

darling, no more or less. I've been here longer than I've

been anywhere when I was a free man. I'll admit, though,

this is a far more pleasant captivity than the last.' He was

speaking of the years he had been a slave on Kelewan,

the Tsurani homeworld. 'But you'll never know when I'll

want to roam once more.' He could see her temper rising

as he spoke, and was forced to admit to himself that he

was often what brought out the worst in her nature. He

rapidly changed tack. "Besides, I don't know if I'd make

a good . . . whatever the husband of the King's sister is

called.'

'Well, you'd better get used to it. Now get up and get

dressed.'

Laurie grabbed the trousers she tossed to him and

quickly put them on. When he was finished dressing he

stood before her and put his arms around her waist.

.Since the day we met I have been your adoring subject,

Carline. I have never loved, nor will I love, anyone as I

love you, but - '

"I know. I have had months of the same excuses.' She

jabbed him in the chest again. "You've always been a

traveller,' she mocked. 'You've always been free. You

don't know how you would fare being tied to one spot -

though I've noticed you've managed to endure settling

down here in the King's palace.'

Laurie cast his eyes heavenwards. 'This is true enough.'

.Well, lover mine, those excuses may serve you as you

bid farewell to some poor tavern keeper's daughter, but

they'll do you little good here. We shall see what Lyam

thinks of all this. I should imagine there is some old law

or other in the archives dealing with commoners becoming

involved with nobles.'

Laurie chuckled. "There is. My father is entitled to a

golden sovereign, a pair of mules, and a farm for your

having taken advantage of me.

Suddenly Carline giggled, tried to smother it, then

laughed aloud. 'You bastard.' Tightly hugging him, she

rested her head upon his shoulder and sighed. 'I can

never stay angry with you.

He cradled her gently in the circle of his arms. 'i do

give you reason upon occasion,' he said softly.

"Yes, you do.'

'Well, not all that often.'

'Look you well, boyo,' she said. 'My brothers are

nearing the harbour as we speak, and you stand here

arguing. You may dare make free with my person, but

the King may take a dim view of things as they stand.'

"so I have feared,' Laurie said, with obvious concern in

his voice.

Suddenly Carline's mood softened. Her expression

changed to one of reassurance. 'Lyam will do whatever I

ask. He's never been able to say no to anything I've truly

asked for since I was tiny. This is not Crydee. He knows

things are different here, and that I'm no longer a child.'

'So I have noticed.'

'Rogue. Look, Laurie. You're no simple farmer or

cobbler. You speak more languages than any "educated"

noble I have known. You read and write. You have

traveLed widely, even to the Tsurani world. You have

wits and talents. You are much more able to govern than

many who are born to it. Besides, if I can have an older

brother who was a hunter before becoming a duke, why

not a husband who was a singer?'

'Your logic is impeccable. I simply don't have a good

answer. I love you without stint, but the rest - '

'Your problem is you have the ability to govern, but

you just don't want the responsibility. You're lazy.'

He laughed. "That's why my father tossed me out of

the house when I was thirteen. Said I'd never make a

decent farmer.'

She pushed away from him gently, her voice taking on

a serious note. "Things change, Laurie. I've given this

much consideration. I thought I was in love before, twice,

but you're the only man who could get me to forget who

I am and act this shamelessly. When I'm with you,

nothing makes sense, but that's all right, because then I

don't care if the way I feel makes sense. But now I must

care. You'd better make a choice, and make it soon. I'll

bet my jewels Arutha and Anita will announce they are

betrothed before my brothers are in the palace a day.

E-Book - Raymond Feist - Riftwar 2 - Silverthorn

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