A Darkness at Sethanon - Raymond E. Feist The Riftwar Saga

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room. Carline sat opposite the boy, lost in her own thoughts. They waited outside Arutha’s bedchamber while Father Nathan and the royal chirurgeon worked feverishly to save Arutha’s life. Nathan had showed no regard for rank as he had ordered everyone out of Arutha’s room, refusing even to let Carline glimpse her brother. At first Jimmy had judged the wound serious but not fatal. He had seen men survive worse, but now the time was dragging on and the young man began to fret. By now Arutha should have been resting quietly, but there had been no word from within his chambers. Jimmy feared this meant complications.

      He closed his eyes and rubbed at them a moment, sighing aloud. Again he had acted, but too late to stave off disaster. Fighting back his own feelings of guilt, he was startled when a voice next to him said, ‘Don’t blame yourself.’

      He looked to find Carline had moved to sit beside him. With a faint smile he said, ‘Reading minds, Duchess?’

      She shook her head, fighting back tears. ‘No. I just remembered how hard you took it when Anita was injured.’

      Jimmy could only nod. Laurie came in and crossed to the door of the bedchamber to speak quietly to the guard. The guard quickly entered and returned a moment later, whispering an answer. Laurie went over to his wife, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and said, ‘I’ve dispatched riders to fetch Anita back and lifted the quarantine.’ As senior noble in the city, Laurie had assumed a position of authority, working with Volney and Gardan to restore order to a city in turmoil. While the crisis was likely over, certain restraints were kept in force, to prevent any backlash from angry citizens. Curfew would stay in effect for a few more days, and large gatherings would be dispersed.

      Laurie spoke softly. ‘I’ve more duties to discharge. I’ll be back shortly.’ He rose and left the antechamber. Time dragged on.

      Jimmy remained lost in thought. In the short time he had been with the Prince his world had changed radically. From street boy and thief to squire had entailed a complete shift in attitudes toward others, though some vestige of his former wariness had stood him in good stead when dealing with court intrigue. Still, the Prince and his family and friends had become the only people in Jimmy’s life who meant something to the boy, and he feared for them. His disquiet had grown in proportion to the passing hours and now bordered on alarm. The ministrations of the chirurgeon and the priest were taking far too long. Jimmy knew something was very wrong.

      Then the door opened and a guard was motioned inside. He appeared a moment later, hurrying down the hall. In short order, Laurie, Gardan, Valdis, and Volney were back before the door. Without taking her eyes from the closed portal, Carline reached out and clutched at Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy glanced over and was startled to see her eyes brimming with tears. With dread certainty, the young man knew what was happening.

      The door opened and a white-faced Nathan appeared. He looked around the room and began to speak, but halted, as if the words were too difficult to utter. At last he simply said, ‘He’s dead.’

      Jimmy couldn’t contain himself. He sprang from the bench and pushed past those before the door, not recognizing his own voice crying, ‘No!’ The guards were too startled to react as the young squire forced his way into Arutha’s chamber. There he halted, for upon the bed was the unmistakable form of the Prince. Jimmy hurried to his side and studied the still features. He reached out to touch the Prince, but his hand halted scant inches from Arutha’s face. Jimmy didn’t need to touch him to know without doubt that the man on the bed, whose features were so familiar, was indeed dead. Jimmy lowered his head to the bed quilting, hiding his eyes as he began to weep.

       • CHAPTER FOUR •

       Embarkation

      TOMAS AWOKE.

      Something had called to him. He sat up and looked about in the dark, his more than human eyes showing him each detail of his room as if it were twilight. The apartment of the Queen and her consort was small, carved from the living bole of a mighty tree. Nothing appeared amiss. For an instant he felt fear that his mad dreams of yesterday were returning, then as wakefulness fully came to him, he dismissed that fear. In this place, above all others, he was master of his powers. Still, old terrors often sprang unexpectedly to the mind.

      Tomas regarded his wife. Aglaranna slept soundly. Then he was on his feet, moving to where Calis lay. Almost two years old now, the boy slept in an alcove adjoining his parents’ quarters. The little Prince of Elvandar slept soundly, his face a mask of repose.

      Then the call came again. And Tomas knew who called him. Instead of being reassured by the source of that call, Tomas felt a strange sense of fate. He crossed to where his white and gold armour hung. He had worn this raiment only once since the end of the Riftwar, to destroy the Black Slayers who had crossed into Elvandar. But now he knew it was time to wear battle garb again.

      Silently he took down the armour and carried it outside. The summer’s night was heavy with fragrance as blossoms filled the air with gentle scents, mingled with the preparations of elven bakers for the next day’s meals.

      Under the green canopy of Elvandar, Tomas dressed. Over his undertunic and trousers he drew on the golden chain-mail coat and coif. The white tabard with the golden dragon followed. He buckled on his golden sword and picked up his white shield then donned his golden helm.

      For a long moment he stood again mantled in the attire of Ashen-Shugar, last of the Valheru, the Dragon Lords. A mystic legacy that crossed time bound them together, and in odd ways Tomas was as much Valheru as human. His basic nature was that of a man raised by his father and mother in the kitchen of Castle Crydee, but his powers were clearly more than human. The armour no longer held that power; it had been but a conduit fashioned by the sorcerer Macros the Black, who had conspired to have Tomas inherit the ancient powers of the Valheru. Now they resided in Tomas, but he still felt somehow lessened when he forwent the gold and white armour.

      He closed his eyes and, with arts long unused, willed himself to travel to where his caller awaited.

      Golden light enveloped Tomas and suddenly, faster than the eye could apprehend, he flew through the trees of the elven forest. Past unsuspecting elven sentries he sped, until he reached a large clearing far to the northwest of the Queen’s court. Then he again stood in corporeal form, seeking the author of the call to him. From out of the trees a black-robed man approached, one whose face was familiar to Tomas. When the short figure had reached him, the two embraced, for they had been foster brothers as children.

      Tomas said, ‘This is a strange reunion, Pug. I knew your call like a signature, but why this magic? Why not simply come to our home?’

      ‘We need to speak in private. I have been away.’

      ‘So Arutha reported last summer. He said you stayed upon the Tsurani world to discover some cause behind these dark attacks by Murmandamus.’

      ‘I have learned things over the last year, Tomas.’ He led Tomas to a fallen tree and they sat upon the trunk. ‘I am certain now, beyond doubt, that what stands behind Murmandamus is what the Tsurani know as the Enemy, an ancient thing of awesome abilities. That terrible entity seeks entrance to our world and manipulates the moredhel and their allies – toward what particular ends I do not know. How a moredhel army gathering or assassins killing Arutha can aid the Enemy’s entrance into our space-time is beyond my understanding.’ For a moment he fell into a reflective mood. ‘So many things I still don’t understand, despite my learning. I almost came to an end to my searching in the library of the Assembly, save for one thing.’ Looking at his boyhood friend, he seemed possessed by a deep urgency. ‘What I found in the library was barely a hint, but it led me to the far north of Kelewan, to a fabulous place beneath the polar ice.

      ‘I have lived for the last year in Elvardein.’

      Tomas blinked in confusion. ‘Elvardein? That means … “elvenrefuge”, as Elvandar means “elvenhome”. Who …?’

      ‘I

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