Rides A Dread Legion. Raymond E. Feist
magic user nodded. ‘To the west lie the westernmost garrisons of that nation I spoke of, the Kingdom. The humans there mostly reside in three small cities, barely larger than our towns, Tulan, Carse, and Crydee. They are well fortified. We can isolate them by land, but they have a vast navy and can be sustained by sea. We shall need to strike all three fortresses quickly to seize them.
‘At the right time. But first we need a secure bridgehead on the Home world and devise a plan to give us more time.’ He thought about how the great Barrier Spell, the sphere that stalled the advancing Demon Legion, was weakening to the north. It had been breached three times in the last ten years, and in the last report had failed to the far west for a short time. The fighting had been brutal and many of the People had paid a terrible price while the magicians repaired the breach. It would fail everywhere eventually, so time was not an abundant commodity. Guile and wit would have to serve until other forces could be brought to bear. Looking at Laromendis, he said, ‘The plan for conquest will be considered, and perhaps an accommodation with those already in residence upon Home is in order. But that is for others to consider. Upon you I must place different burdens.’
‘I will serve, my lord,’ answered the magic user.
‘We are hard pressed. Our enemies have driven us out of Thandar Keep, so Modaria has fallen.’
The Conjurer said nothing, but the slight tension around his eyes asked the question. ‘No one survived,’ the Regent Lord said softly.
Modaria was the last of the outpost worlds, so now the entirety of the People remained on Andcardia. ‘We made them pay dearly, but as it has always been, for each of them we lose three warriors.’ His deep voice took on an almost plaintive tone as he said, ‘We need a safe haven, Conjurer. Is this such a place?’
There was a moment’s silence, and Undalyn demanded, ‘Speak! Is this a safe haven?’
‘There are demon signs. Not recent, but … demons have been there.’
The Regent Lord threw back his head in rage and torment and let forth a howl of pure barbaric anger and pain. ‘Is there no refuge?’
‘Only signs, my lord,’ said the magician. ‘I found no demons.’
‘How can that be?’ said the Regent Lord as he fixed his dark gaze on the magician.
‘In my travels I saw many lands, heard many stories. A century ago, a demon lord reached this land, but he was without a battle host. He took the guise of a woman, a queen of the humans, and conquered a third of that world before he was stopped.
‘A magician of vast power, aided by other magicians and a human army, defeated the demon and threw him down.’
The Regent Lord sat back, his head cocked to one side as he listened, and he shook his head slightly as he said, ‘Just one demon. That is unusual.’ He was silent for a moment, then said, ‘But even one means more may follow.’
‘I bring hope too, my lord. For there are hints in the stories that the demon did not come to that realm by conjuration, but rather through … a gate.’
‘The demon gate!’ spat the Regent Lord. ‘That tale grows old, Conjurer. It is but a fantasy to explain the demons’ presence among the mortals and absolve those like your brother. Every Master of Lore since the time before time has avowed that demons cannot come to this realm unbidden! I will hear no more of this blasphemy, lest you wish to end up with the same fate as your brother!’
At the mention of a brother, the Conjurer’s face went rigid.
Lowering his voice, the Regent Lord’s expression calmed. ‘He still lives.’
‘In your dungeon, my lord?’
The Regent Lord actually smiled. ‘In a cage I had placed in a small courtyard. I thought the dungeon overly deleterious to his health, with no sunlight. I wanted him still alive if you returned, as you have. It must become a little uncomfortable in the afternoon heat, but otherwise he is well enough.’
A slight flicker of anger crossed the magician’s face, but he remained silent.
The Regent Lord said, ‘Your brother’s continued survival depends on your obedience, Conjurer.’
The magician inclined his head. ‘Gulamendis and I serve at your pleasure, my lord. It has always been thus.’
The Regent Lord’s mood darkened. ‘Do not be glib with me, Conjurer.’ He pointed to the west. ‘The Plains of Delth-Aran are covered with the bodies of warriors who “served at my pleasure”, and I count each loss as an affront to our people. There are children here in Tandamar who will never know their fathers’ faces.
‘Across five worlds we have battled the Demon Legions, and each world we leave behind is littered with valiant fighters who “served at my pleasure”; and their females, and their young.’ Behind the anger in the Regent Lord’s eyes, the Conjurer could see genuine pain. ‘My grandfather, and his father before, all stood with defiant resolve, and each warrior serving “at their pleasure” gave their full measure and left us poorer for their sacrifice.
‘I would not dishonour their memory by forgiving those responsible for this horror. Now they are here, on the World of the Seven Stars, and we have nowhere left to go.’ Then his voice softened and he almost whispered, ‘Except Home.’
The Conjurer said nothing. It was an old argument, one that he had experienced many times before. Laromendis and his brother were practitioners of the mystic arts, a calling barely tolerated at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times. Laro was a Master of Illusion, a Conjurer, who could kill a warrior using his will and imagination, conjuring up illusions so real to the opposing fighter that a killing blow would even end his life. Gulamendis was a Master of Demons, and among those who were blamed for the terrors now visited upon the People. Laro and his brother had been raised by their mother in a remote village; she had known her sons had inherited great and terrible gifts, the ability to use magic.
The Regent Lord said, ‘Now, is this world safe?’
‘I think so, my lord.’ He paused, choosing his words carefully. ‘As I have said, the knowledge I have gathered tells me that this world has powerful protectors, men and women who could serve to stem the coming of those with whom we battle.’ He paused again, then carefully said, ‘We may have found allies.’
‘Allies!’ shouted the Regent Lord. ‘Dwarves, lesser elves, humans! Perhaps we should treat with the goblins as well? Would you have me be the first ruler of our people to parley with those we have warred against since time immemorial? Would you have me seek succour from those who are fit only to be conquered and bent to our service?’
Laromendis said nothing. He knew this was an argument that would take the leaders of the Regent Lord’s Meeting weeks, even months to debate. And he also knew that if he was to save his brother’s life, he must ensure that when the Regent Lord’s Meeting was called, the Loremasters and priests were his allies; the fate of the People hung in the balance, and in order to save itself, this once proud race had to start making accommodations with those who had always been counted as enemies.
The Regent Lord asked further questions for an hour, insightfully pulling out details needed for his next plan. Finally he said, ‘We shall move two clans into this valley, have them occupy the fortress at the north end.’ Laromendis nodded. The dark elves had left everything intact. While overgrown and falling apart after a hundred years, it still would provide a safer place from which to muster, and could quickly be reclaimed as a highly defensible position.
‘Have the Solis and Matusic ready themselves,’ the Regent Lord ordered, and the herald bowed and departed. Laromendis kept his face expressionless, but inside he smiled. The Solis were under the command of Seboltis, Undalyn’s favourite surviving son. That unexpected decision gave Laromendis a tiny advantage, for when the time came the Regent Lord would be less inclined towards conquest as the only solution if the heir to his throne stood at risk. Like his brother, Laromendis knew the People had to change to endure. Undalyn would favour conquest to reclaim