Shards of a Broken Crown (66 page)

The constables
overwhelmed the attackers at the gate as the thieves began to carry
away their wounded. The Keshian agents fought to the last, but
eventually they were all killed or disarmed.

Dash looked
around, and when he saw everything was under control, he ran over to
where Trina lay. The gate was still closed.

He knelt and
cradled her in his arms and saw her skin was pallid and clammy. Blood
flowed copiously from her stomach and Dash knew her life was draining
away. He shouted, “Get a healer!”

A constable ran
off while Dash cradled Trina in his arms. He tried to staunch the
flow of blood by pressing on the wound, but the pain was almost
unbearable to Trina.

She looked up at
him and weakly said, “I love you, Sheriff Puppy.”

His tears fell
unhindered. “You crazy good-for-nothing,” he said, “I
told you to stay alive!”

He gathered her
to him and she moaned, then whispered, “You promised.”

Dash was still
holding the dead woman when the priest reached the gate. Gustaf put
his hands on Dash’s shoulders, moved him back, and said, “We
have work to do, Sheriff.”

Dash looked
upward and saw the sky was brightening. He knew circumstances
demanded he put aside his personal grief and the numbing sense of
loss he felt. Soon the Keshian herald would approach the gate and
make his final demand for surrender—for when the Keshian army
saw the southern gate wasn’t open, they would know their only
option was to attack, and they would come.

The horses
panted.

Riders urged
them on and prayed their mounts would hold out for one more day.
Jimmy had put them on a punishing regimen, from dawn to dusk, with
the shortest breaks possible. The horses were all exhibiting the
results of the forced march, ribs beginning to show where not so many
days before they had been sleek and comfortably fat.

Six horses had
come up lame, and those riders had been forced to drop out, walking
their animals back to Port Vykor or following after, hoping there
would be a Kingdom army waiting when they at last got there. Two
animals had been so badly injured they had been put down.

The troop was
within minutes of being in sight of Krondor, and Jimmy prayed again
that he was wrong in his surmise, and they would find the city
peacefully going about its business. He would gladly accept the years
of jests and taunts he would endure as a result should that be the
case, but he knew in the pit of his stomach he was about to run
headlong into a fight.

Dash crested a
rise and saw a baggage train before him. Most of the baggage handlers
were boys, but a few guards stood ready to defend the Keshian
supplies. Dash shouted, “Don’t kill the boys!” and
then pulled his sword. The baggage boys scattered, but the Keshian
Dog Soldiers guarding the baggage train stood firm, and the battle
was on.

Dash raced along
the walls as the Keshians began their assault. The Keshian herald had
been polite in his contempt, a quality Dash would have found more
admirable had he not been in a nearly murderous rage over Trina’s
death. It had taken all the self-control he could manage to not grab
a bow and take the herald out of his saddle when he came for the
third time, demanding the surrender of the city.

Patrick was back
in his castle, under guard against another attack by agents of Kesh.
Dash put aside the sinking feeling in his stomach that, if they
should somehow survive the assault on the city, it would be a search
of tedious proportions to uncover all the agents of Kesh.

Trumpets sounded
and war horns blew, and the Keshian infantry marched forward. In
files of ten men, they carried ladders. Dash could hardly believe
they’d assault first with scaling ladders, without heavy
machines or a turtle to protect the men. Then a hundred bowmen rode
into view, and Dash called out, “Get ready to duck!”

A horn sounded
and the men with the ladders broke into a run, while the horse
archers spurred their mounts forward, between them. The horsemen
unleashed a barrage of arrows, and Dash hoped all his men had heard
the warning to duck. A clattering of arrows against stones and
shields and the absence of more than a few oaths and screams told him
most had understood. Then his own bowmen rose up and delivered a
withering fire down on those below the wall. Dash crouched down
behind a merlon and said, “Pass the word: target those with the
ladders. Worry about the archers later.”

The soldiers on
both sides passed the word, and Krondorian archers jumped up and
fired at the ladder-bearers. They ducked as another round of arrows
flew at the walls. Dash duck-walked to the rear of the rampart and
called down to one of his constables, “Keep the patrols active.
They may still be trying to get in through the sewers.”

The constable
ran off and Dash returned to his place on the wall. A palace
guardsman ran over and said, “We found the spy, sir.”

“Who was
it?”

“Another
clerk. Man name of Ammes. He just walked into the squad room and told
us you’d ordered every man to the gate.”

“Where is
he?”

“Dead,”
said the guardsman. “He was one of those trying to seize the
South Palace Gate, and he died during the fighting.”

Dash nodded,
making a mental note to make sure no palace servant or functionary
stayed in place without a thorough investigation. The period when the
Prince had resided in Darkmoor and Dash had overseen the transition
from Duko’s rule to Patrick’s return had been too lax.
Malar and other agents had easily insinuated themselves into the
palace.

Which also meant
Kesh had plans for this offensive long before the truce at Darkmoor
last year.

Dash kept his
rage bottled up, his frustration and anger at Trina’s death and
the assault on the city. He vowed that should Keshians come over the
wall, he would personally kill more of the enemy than any man
defending the city.

And should the
city endure, he would see that his promise to Trina was not made in
vain.

They landed in a
clearing a few miles from the city. Pug staggered as he got off the
dragon’s back and sat down on the grass.

Miranda sat next
to her husband and said, “Are you all right?”

Pug said, “My
mind is still swimming.”

Tomas said,
“Where to next?”

“Many
places,” said Nakor. “And not all of us together.”
To Tomas he said, “Why don’t you have your friend fly you
home to your wife? There is still much work to be done, but you can
return home knowing you’ve saved Elvandar and its inhabitants
from problems for the near future.”

“I would
like to hear a few things first,” said Tomas.

“Yes,”
said Miranda. “What was that creature?”

“I have no
knowledge of anything like him,” said Tomas. “And the
memories I inherited from Ashen-Shugar are extensive.”

“That’s
because no Valheru ever encountered anything like Zaltais,”
said Nakor, sitting on the grass next to Pug.

“Mostly
because he was not a creature.”

“Not a
creature?” asked Miranda. “Could you attempt to just
explain without the usual convolution?”

Nakor smiled.
“Right now you remind me of your mother, the good parts.”

“There
were good parts?” said Miranda with thinly veiled contempt.

In the most
wistful tone anyone had ever heard from him, Nakor said, “Yes,
there were, once, a very long time ago.”

“What
about Zaltais?” asked Pug.

“Fadawah
was lured to practicing dark magic by his advisor, Kahil,”
Nakor said. “I think Kahil has been behind everything that went
on in Novindus from the start. He was a dupe, a tool of the
Pantathians, who somehow managed a degree of freedom, and he used
that to create a position for himself, one where he could manipulate
others . . .” He hesitated, then continued, “The same way
Jorma became Lady Clovis and controlled the Overlord and Dahakon.
years ago. Kahil was at Fadawah’s side from the start. He
avoided destruction and continued to advise and . . . well, I suspect
he convinced Fadawah to turn to the very powers that destroyed the
Emerald Queen and the Demon King. He served that power we do not
speak of, and like most of the Nameless One’s minions, he did
not even know who he served . . . he was just driven.”

“Zaltais?”
prodded Miranda. “What did you mean when you said he wasn’t
a creature?”

“He was
not of this reality, more so than the demons or even the dread. He
was a thing from the Seventh Circle of Hell.”

“But
what
was he?” asked Pug.

“He was a
thought, probably a dream.”

“A
thought?” asked Tomas.

Pug said, “And
when I looked into the rift?”

“You saw
the mind of a God.”

“I don’t
understand,” said Pug.

Nakor patted him
on the shoulder. “You will in a few hundred years. For now,
consider that a God slept and as he slept he dreamed, and in that
dream he fancied some tiny creature spoke his name and in doing so
became his tool. In that dream that tool created havoc and called to
him and he sent his Angel of Despair to answer the call. And the
Angel served the tool.”

“Why
couldn’t Zaltais be killed?” asked Miranda.

Nakor smiled.
“You can’t kill a dream, Miranda. Even an evil dream. You
can only send it back to where it came from.”

Tomas touched
his lip. “That dream seemed concrete enough to me.”

“Oh,”
said Nakor, “a God’s dream is reality.”

Pug said, “We
should go.”

“Where?”
asked Miranda. “Back to the island?”

“No,”
said Nakor. “We should tell the Prince the leadership of the
enemy is dead.”

“Krondor,
then,” said Pug.

“One
thing, though,” said Miranda.

“What?”
asked Nakor.

“You
mentioned some time ago that the demon Jakan replaced Mother at the
head of that army, but you never Nakor said, “Your mother is
dead.”

“Are you
certain?” asked Miranda.

Nakor nodded.
“Very certain.”

Pug stood up,
still feeling shaky. Tomas said, “Ryana will bear me back to
Elvandar.”

Pug embraced his
old friend and said, “Again, we say good-bye.”

“And we’ll
meet again,” answered Tomas.

“Fare you
well, old friend,” said Pug.

“And you
three as well,” said Tomas.

He climbed
aboard the dragon’s back and she leaped into the sky. Two beats
of her wings and she banked off to the west and started on the
journey back to Elvandar.

Pug said, “Are
you up to getting us all to Krondor?”

Miranda said, “I
can manage.” She took them both by the hands and closed her
eyes, and reality swam around them.

They appeared in
the great hall of the Prince’s palace in Krondor as the war
horns sounded the call for the reserves to come to the main gate.

Gustaf said, “If
you can’t slip inside the gate and unlock it—”

“Kick it
down,” finished Dash.

They heard the
rumble as the ram was rolled down the road toward the main gate. The
road into the city from the east was a long incline from a series of
rolling hills, and the ram was a huge one, fashioned from five trees
lashed together by heavy ropes. Horsemen rode on either side with
guide ropes, and as they reached the last stretch of road before the
gate, they released the ropes and veered off.

The ram picked
up speed and the rumbling grew louder as the ram closed to within
fifty yards of the gate. As it bore down, Dash reflexively gripped
the stones of the wall as he anticipated the impact.

Then someone
shoved between Gustaf and Dash and stuck his hand over the wall. A
sheet of light extended from the man’s hand, and Dash turned to
see his greatgrandfather standing next to him. “Enough!”
Pug shouted, his anger clearly evident on his face as the ram
exploded into a thousand flaming splinters.

Whatever the
Keshians expected, this display of magic wasn’t it. Their
attack, timed to coincide with the ram smashing the gate, faltered as
men on horseback were suddenly greeted by the sight of a very high
wall surmounted by archers instead of an open gate for them to charge
through.

They pulled up
and milled around in confusion, as the defenders on the wall
unleashed a barrage of arrows. Pug shouted, “No!” and
with a wave of his hands sent out a curtain of heat that turned the
arrows into flaming cinders that fell far short of their mark.
Turning to Dash, he said, “I don’t see any other
officers. Are you in charge here?”

Dash said, “For
the moment.”

“Then
order your men to stop shooting.”

Dash did so, and
the Keshians retreated to their lines unharmed. Pug said, “Send
a herald to the Keshian commander. Tell him I want to meet with the
commander of that army in the Prince’s palace in one hour’s
time.”

“In the
palace?” asked Dash.

“Yes, when
he gets here, open the gate and let him in.”

“What if
he won’t come?”

Pug turned his
back, motioned to Nakor and Miranda on the rear of the gatehouse, and
said, “He’ll come, or I’ll destroy his army.”

“But what
do I tell him?” asked Dash.

“Tell him
the war is over.”

A pale and
weak-looking Patrick stood before his throne as General Asham ibin
Al-tuk marched into the throne room, flanked by a guard and a
servant. He bowed perfunctorily. “I am here, Highness.”

Patrick said, “I
did not call this meeting.”

Pug stepped
forward and said, “I did.”

“And you
are?” asked the General.

“I am
called Pug.”

The General
raised an eyebrow in recognition. “The magician at Stardock.”

“The
same.”

“Why have
you summoned me?”

“To tell
you to take your army and go home.”