The Complete Demonwar Saga 2-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist
between the realms, and as he dreams, it is so. He dreams of home and wishes to return.
‘The other Greater Gods soothe his restlessness, and stem his dreams, but they are overmatched. Only she who balances him can stop the madness.’
Pug felt a cold tightening in his chest. ‘And she is dead,’ said Pug.
‘She is,’ said the Oracle, ‘yet even in death she provides, for her legacy lives on, in the hearts of those who serve good.
‘Find allies, Pug. Find those whom you have never sought out. Seek strength where you are weak, and find those who have knowledge where you are ignorant. Understand what comes soon.’
The Oracle’s head lowered again to the floor and Pug knew from experience that her vision had drained her. He had time for one, perhaps two more questions, and then she would enter a slumber which could last for days, even weeks. Once she had awakened, those visions would be lost.
Pug’s mind raced as he thought of a dozen things he wished to ask. He finally said, ‘Tell me of the legion that approaches.’
‘Demons from the Fifth Circle, Pug. The demons are coming.’
The hair on Pug’s neck rose; after the many things he had seen in his very long life he was surprised to find that he could still be shocked. The attacking demon had not been the minion of some powerful human agency, it had been a scout, an assassin from the demon realm, sent to rid their target world of their most powerful ally: forewarning.
Pug had fought demons before; one had almost killed him. He had also witnessed the final struggle between Macros the Black and the Demon King Maag. Imagining a legion of such creatures numbed his mind, visiting upon him a sense of despair that he rarely experienced. Even during the darkest moments of his life he had retained hope, and had always sought to survive until he could seize an opportunity. But this was an onslaught beyond imagining.
Even the danger posed by the Dasati paled in comparison to the denizens of the Fifth Circle. The grass wilted under their heels, and their touch would burn flesh. Only demons with powerful magic could contrive to exist in this realm, and the scope of that magic was majestic. Pug knew that for a legion of demons to enter this realm meant that they faced a repeat of what happened on the Saaur home world: utter and complete destruction.
‘Who do I need to seek out—’ Pug began, but then saw that the dragon eyes were closed.
He glanced around the room and saw the silent companions watching him. They could provide no further aid, so he merely nodded a farewell and transported himself back to his study.
His wife was waiting. When he appeared she said, ‘Oh, there you are. I felt you depart and was about to get very angry with you.’
He could tell Miranda was making light of her worry, she exhibited genuine concern. ‘I went to see the Oracle,’ said Pug, flatly.
The tightening of her eyes communicated she understood that he had heard nothing good.
‘We need to find someone who knows a lot about demons,’ said Pug.
Magnus and Miranda stood while Caleb sat opposite his father. Pug had just finished recounting the Oracle’s warning and Miranda said, ‘You’re right. We need a Demon Master.’
Magnus shook his head. ‘They are … difficult to find.’
Mastery over demons was one of the forbidden arts, others included necromancy and arcane life. All existed outside the bounds of respectable magic, requiring misery and pain at their least malignant, death and the rending of the very soul at their most terrible.
During his life, Pug had encountered three magic users who used the precious life force of others for their own dark purposes. Leso Varen, also known as Sidi, Pug’s long-time adversary, had been a necromancer, as had a magician named Dahakan whom Nakor had encountered, and the false dark elf prophet, Murmandamus. Animating the dead to do their bidding had been the least of their offences. Stealing fleeing spirits as bodies died created disharmony of staggering proportions in the universe.
Arcane life was the distortion of living creatures, modified to the magician’s whim. Humans were sometimes given bestial powers, or animals blended into improbable creatures. Only necromancy was more evil.
Demon Masters were more of a mystery, for often the advantages they gained from their practice came at a high price. Controlling demons was not seen as inherently evil, but it was still considered a dark art, as little good ever came of keeping a demon minion.
Pug sighed. ‘We need to send word to our agents to start reporting any rumours of demons or summoners.’
Caleb rose and said, ‘I’ll do so at once.’ As he started towards the door, he paused and said, ‘I think I remember something …’ He returned to his father’s desk, which he occupied when Pug was not at the school. Riffling through papers, he said, ‘Yes, there was a report from Muboya; about a magic user banishing demons for a fee.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘They appear and then the magician arrives fortuitously.’
Magnus said, ‘A confidence scam, no doubt.’
‘We should still investigate it,’ said Pug. To Caleb he said, ‘You are in charge. I’m going to see to this myself.’ He turned to Miranda and Magnus. ‘If you don’t mind, Miranda, can you see if there’s anything at Stardock on demon lore?’ To his elder son he said, ‘And you should talk to the monks at That Which Was Sarth.’
Both nodded agreement and Miranda vanished.
Pug turned to both his sons and said, ‘I was about to add, “after lunch.”’
They chuckled, but in the wake of what their father had just told them, it was false mirth.
GULAMENDIS FROZE.
The feeling that greeted him as he stepped through the portal to Midkemia was unexpected. He stood silently drinking in the vista, his travel bag thrown over his left shoulder and his brother’s staff in his right hand. He knew the Regent Lord had ordered some geomancers away from repairing the bastions of Andcardia in order to construct a new city on the ancient world they thought of as ‘Home’.
When his brother had told him about finding this world, Gulamendis had been half-convinced that Laro was either feigning the discovery or perhaps deluding himself, but one breath here and he knew: this was Home.
There was a resonance in the air, a feeling of solidity underfoot, of being in touch with something fundamental, a faint but almost palpable energy that seeped into the core of his being. This was the world upon which his race evolved, the very core of their existence began here. Emotions he thought he no longer possessed rose up and threatened to sweep him away. It took him a moment to take another breath and step away.
‘It strikes everyone that way,’ said a voice to his right. Gulamendis saw a magician named Astranour standing beside the gate. He was an aremancer, one who specialized in creating and controlling the translocation portals and transporting devices employed by the taredhel. ‘My wife wept when we arrived.’ Looking out over the valley, he said, ‘It is … remarkable.’
Gulamendis nodded, saying nothing as he looked down the trail – now a road – to the walls of the city. He remembered his brother’s brief description of the valley, but what he saw now was something entirely unexpected. With a cursory farewell to Astranour, Gulamendis moved purposefully down the hillside.
Massive walls had been erected, already encompassing a third of the vast valley floor. The geomancers would have exhausted themselves and their apprentices to accomplish so much in so little time. Not too far away, at the end of the wall, he witnessed half a dozen geomancers enchanting massive