Krondor : Tear of the Gods (Riftwar Legacy Book 3)

James turned to Jazhara. “Maybe you can do better?”

 

 

Solon said, “Let me try.” He stepped up to the boarded door and shouted, “In the name of Mighty Ishap, the One Above All, I bid you let us enter!”

 

There was a long moment of silence and then Nathan said, “That’s good. I didn’t know you blood-stealers could invoke the name of the gods! Almost had me for a moment there, with that bad dwarven accent!”

 

Solon’s face flushed with anger. “Tis not a bad dwarven accent, ya gibbering loon. I grew up near Dorgin!”

 

James turned to Jazhara and said, “It does get more pronounced when he gets upset, did you notice?”

 

Jazhara said, “Let me try again.” Speaking up, she said, “Sir, I am a magician and could enter your house at will, but would not violate the sanctity of your home. If you won’t let us enter, at least tell us what you know about the evil that besets this town. Perhaps we can help. We have our own reasons for wanting to see it banished.”

 

There was another long silence, then Nathan said through the boards, “Almost got me with that one, you monster!” He laughed madly. “Trying to find out how much I know so you can plot against me! Well, I’m not falling for it.”

 

Kendaric said, “James - “

 

James waved him to silence. “Look, Nathan, if you don’t want to come out, you don’t have to, but we need to find the cause of all this trouble in the area. We have, as my friend said, our own reasons for wanting to see it come to an end. If these Vampires,’ as you call them, are real, they may be causing us our problem and we’ll deal with them.”

 

“You’ll get your chance soon enough!” shouted Nathan.

 

“James - “ Kendaric repeated.

 

James again waved his hand and said, “Just a minute!”

 

As he was about to speak again, James felt his arm gripped by Kendaric, who swung him around to face down the path to the house. “James!” shouted the wrecker. “It looks like we get our chance now.”

 

As the sun was dropping below the horizon, dark shadows seemed to coalesce in the air at the edge of the nearby woods. In the darkness other shapes could be seen moving, and suddenly human forms appeared where there had been empty air a moment before.

 

James slowly drew his sword and said, “Solon, Jazhara, any advice would be greatly appreciated.”

 

A half-dozen figures advanced from the nearby woods. They appeared human, save for their deathly pale white skin color, and eyes that seemed to glow with a reddish light. Several of them showed gaping wounds on their necks and they shambled with an awkward gait.

 

The one in the front spoke. “Nathan . . . Come to us . . . We miss you so . . .”

 

From behind it others called, “You should have stayed with us, Nathan. There’s no need to fear us, Nathan.”

 

With rising revulsion, James saw that one of the figures was a child, a little girl of no more than seven years of age.

 

Solon said, “There’s but one piece of advice I can give, laddie. Destroy them all.” He raised his warhammer and advanced on the first figure.

 

 

 

 

 

TWELVE - Dark Magic

 

 

James charged after Solon.

 

Jazhara shouted, “Be wary, you must destroy them by fire or cut their heads from their bodies!”

 

Kendaric hung behind the magician, holding his short sword, but appearing ready to bolt if the opportunity presented itself. Jazhara began an incantation and lowered her staff, pointing it toward the group of oncoming creatures. A ball of green flame erupted from the tip of her staff and shot across the space between them, engulfing four of the creatures in mystic flame. They howled and writhed, and stumbled forward, staggering for a few paces before falling face-down onto the ground.

 

Solon reached out with a gauntlet-covered hand and seized the child-creature, hurling the small form backward, into the green flame. The tiny creature shrieked and thrashed, then lay still.

 

“May Ishap bring you peace, child,” shouted the monk. He swung his huge warhammer at an adult-sized creature, smashing the thing’s shoulder, but still it lunged at him, its one remaining arm outstretched, the fingers bent like talons trying to rend and tear.

 

Solon lashed back the other way, and his hammer caved in the creature’s skull. It fell to the ground and lay writhing, but despite having half its head pulped, it still tried to rise. Jazhara ran up to the monk and shouted, “Stand back!” He retreated and she lowered her staff. In a moment, the creature was aflame.

 

James was having difficulty with a particularly powerful man - or creature, rather, he corrected himself. The thing had obviously been the woodcutter Lyle had first told them of. He had been a big, broad-shouldered man, and his arms were long and meaty. He tried to grapple with James, who dodged aside. But the damage inflicted on the creature by James’s rapier did little to slow it.

 

“Kendaric!” James shouted. “I could use some help!”

 

Raymond E. Feist's books