A Crown Imperilled

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chaos reigned.

Hal took a moment to comprehend the scene before him. Three rings of guards were standing in protection of their respective monarchs, while everyone who could get out of the great hall was scrambling for the nearest exit. The centre of the hall was a surging mass of movement that took Hal a moment to make sense of, for three alien figures stood in the midst of a litter of bodies.

Lord John Worthington stood motionless, in his hand a bloody knife. His son lay at his feet, his throat obviously cut as blood pooled around him. Lord John appeared transfixed, staring off into the distance, while Roldem’s palace guard formed a barrier between him and their King.

Then he saw that Lord John’s Isles and Kesh counterparts stood motionless as well, arms down and out before them, hands turned palms up, their eyes closed as if in prayer.

And in the centre of an invisible triangle between those three men raged something dark and murderous.

Hal could not quite make sense of what he was seeing. Whatever was forming there was a blur of motion and a shifting of light. Then Lord John and the other two advisors collapsed as one, and something was released.

The three shimmering silhouettes suddenly threw themselves at the three monarchs. Those not behind the wall of shields and swords screamed in agony as sudden wounds appeared on their bodies, or died silently from instantly killing blows. Blood fountained and spattered everywhere as the apparitions appeared moved around the room in a mad caper of murder, cutting and slashing in all directions.

Hal looked and found the Princess standing behind her father, Lady Gabriella and Ty and a dozen royal guardsmen. Jim and Franciezka were standing between that group and the Isles guardsmen protecting King Gregory, both of them had a pair of impressive-looking blades in each hand.

The Keshians were forming a wall of iron shields and scimitars around Emperor Sezioti who had drawn his ceremonial sword and looked poised to use it if need be. Hal tried to make sense of the mayhem, but had trouble getting the dark figures in focus.

They moved oddly, disjointedly, but even so, their progress was deadly. Blood was splattered on gowns and fine uniforms, giving the entire tableau an otherworld quality. Moreover, the keening sound the creatures made was unnerving. Hal fought down an urge to turn and run and took stock of his next move. His duty lay to his king and he knew he should move to defend Gregory, but his heart was Stephane’s and he wanted nothing more than to hurry to her side.

He judged his best choice to join with Jim and Franciezka. He ran past the royal dais and came to Jim’s side. ‘What are they?’

‘I’ve never seen their like,’ said the Kingdom’s spymaster. ‘But I’ve read about them. They are called death-dancers, and they are a bastard to kill.’

Looking at the way they flailed about, Hal saw a pattern emerging. ‘Then we’d best be about killing them as quickly as we can!’ He took three steps forward and as he had anticipated, what appeared as an odd man-shaped hole in the air swung a wide arc of what seemed to be a blade. Hal lunged and impaled it, felt the sword cut deep, felt resistance, then withdrew and knelt as a wildly swinging blade cut through the air where he had stood a moment before. A warbling cry, a sound nothing mortal could make, cut through the air, a sound of raw pain and anger.

‘Good!’ shouted Jim. ‘I think you’ve really annoyed it!’

The nearest death-dancer turned and seemed to be trying to locate Hal, who backed away ready to move in whatever direction took him away from this thing’s attack. He had run it through, somewhere in the lower torso, but it seemed merely agitated, showing no sign of injury.

‘How do you kill one of these things?’ Hal yelled.

‘I don’t know, but I do know you can’t let it cut you! Its touch is poison!’

‘Now you tell me!’

‘I’m not the one racing in there, am I?’ shouted Jim.

Hal played keep-away with the closest death-dancer and noticed another behind it. There was something dissimilar between the two, but he was too busy dodging to notice. He yelled, ‘Jim, what’s the difference between this one and the others?’

Jim tore his attention away from the closest as it lunged at Hal who barely leapt away in time. The flickering, featureless creature was difficult to see, and only the young duke’s quick reflexes saved him.

‘The other one has some sort of lash. Yours a blade, I think.’

‘I can’t see it well enough to hurt it!’ Hal shouted. ‘It’s like fighting in the dark.’

A noble on the other side of the room, one of the visiting Kingdom lords, screamed and clutched at his cheek as the lash from the other dancer found its mark. He fell to his knees with blood running between his fingers, then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed to the floor. Colour drained from his face, his forehead beaded with perspiration and he seemed to be fighting for breath.

A third death-dancer reached the line of shields protecting the Emperor and was repulsed by the sheer number of blows directed at it. Enough struck that it echoed the warbling cry of the one Hal had wounded and retreated.

Jim watched the frustrating combat, as Hal and Ty and the others defending the monarchs attempted to counter blows from enemies that were at best dancing shadows and at worst nearly invisible. Jim said, ‘We need to see them!’

Franciezka said, ‘I have an idea!’ She turned and for a brief moment thought about dragging the King and Princess Stephane out of the door behind them, until she realized that corridor ended in a terraced garden. The only other way off that terrace was over a low stone wall, then a fifty foot drop to the marshalling yard below.

She ducked behind the throne and made her way through cowering nobles who were trying to stay as far away as possible from the murderous magical beings. A servants’ entrance was hidden behind a tapestry and she ducked through it. It was not an effective escape route for those in the great hall, as it immediately wound down in a spiral to the kitchen three storeys below: there would be a stampede on those stairs as people tried to get out.

She reached the kitchen and found the staff oblivious to the mayhem above as the chief cook oversaw a banquet for over five hundred guests scheduled to begin in less than two hours. Servants were already beginning to organize large trays of delicacies and cups were being arranged for wine service. Finally a baker’s apprentice noticed Franciezka and his eyes widened at the sight of this woman with her hair dishevelled and a large knife in either hand. Before he could speak, she shouted, ‘Flour? Where is the flour?’

The boy pointed as other eyes turned to stare at the intruder. She saw a five pound sack of flour sitting on a large rolling table and another unopened beneath the table. She threw both knives point down into the table and said, ‘Don’t anyone climb those stairs to the great hall until you’ve been told it is safe!’

She grabbed both sacks, one under each arm, ignoring the one that was spilling and hurried back up the stairs. A fit woman, she was nevertheless panting by the time she reached the top. How did the servants manage to make that climb dozens of times during a feast, she absently wondered?

She pushed her way past nobles crowding the entrance, and saw a young woman look at her with wide eyes. As that woman took a step towards her, Franciezka said, ‘Don’t go down there! There are more of them!’

The woman immediately pulled back and screamed. It was hardly noticed in the bedlam. Franciezka reached Jim and said, ‘Cut this one!’ as she dropped the unopened bag at his feet.

She reached into the open bag and took as large a handful of flour in it as she could, then shouted, ‘Hal! Close your eyes!’

Out of breath, perspiration dripping off his brow from dodging and slashing at the invisible creature, Hal shouted back, ‘Are you daft?’

‘Shield your eyes!’ Jim yelled.

Franciezka threw flour in the general direction of the shifting shape and the flour exploded into a white dusty cloud. Suddenly there was an outline Hal could see.

In a fury of blade work, he darted in and started cutting at the creature, retreating when necessary. Then another blade joined his as Ty leapt past Gabriella and stabbed the creature when it turned to confront Hal.

Quickly Hal and Ty forced the closest dancer to retreat, while some of the more bold guardsmen pressed forward now that they could make out the elusive assassins. Cut, slice, thrust, and the wailing increased until it approached an ear-splitting level.

Hal was puffing as he sought to press the first dancer, his face running with perspiration. Ty shouted, ‘Back. Catch your wind! I’ll hold him.’

An Isles guardsman attempted to take Hal’s place but his move was ill-timed and the dancer wheeled and sliced him across the throat. With a wide-eyed expression the guardsman went to his knees, his neck fountaining blood.

As the death-dancers got more injured they became more frantic, and more soldiers died. Jim moved to a position between the combatants and the now flour-covered Franciezka, shouting, ‘Look for an opening, and if you see one, get the King and Princess out of here!’

‘I will, but as fast as those things are moving, I doubt one will present itself!’

A bold Keshian legionary leapt forward, attempting a shield bash and was rewarded by the dancer closest to him falling back, its warbling cry tinged with outrage. For his pains, the Keshian soldier felt a cracking blow across his shield that sent a shock up his arm.

That presented the opening needed for Emperor Sezioti to be whisked out of the nearest entrance, into a safer part of the palace. The enraged death-dancer attempted to follow, but the determined legionary again bashed it with his shield and struck out with his scimitar.

Jim saw his grandfather trying to protect King Gregory and the Queen, and motioned toward the doorway through which the Keshians had escaped. Lord James nodded that he understood his grandson’s signal, and shouted orders to the guard captain to be ready to move towards that escape should the way open.

Jim saw there was something wrong with King Gregory. His right eye drooped and his right arm was dangling uselessly. Jim prayed the King hadn’t been struck by the death-dancer: from what he knew of them from a report Pug had penned years before, few survived such an attack. One who had was Ty’s father Tal, but he had the best magic and medicine the Conclave of Shadows could provide, and they had got to him quickly.

Jim looked around and saw that with the Keshians gone, save for the one brave legionary holding the door, two dancers were now attacking the Kingdom defenders. He turned his attention to the one facing Ty and saw Hal leap at it.

To no one in particular he said ‘Damn, those are some brave youngsters.’

‘Yes, they are,’ said Franciezka at his side.

He glanced at her and would have found her flour-covered visage amusing were it not for the circumstances. Indeed, flour was everywhere, in many places stained with crimson blood, producing an odd pink clump when the two substances combined.

The death-dancers were now frantic to the point of hurling themselves against whatever was before them, people, walls, furniture. Fatigued guardsmen were knocked into one another, and Jim shouted, ‘One of the king’s is going to die if we don’t end this soon!’

Suddenly a humming filled the room and Jim saw a figure standing in red robes on the other side. He held up his hands and the humming grew louder. The instant result was that the three death-dancers ceased moving but rather stood and vibrated as if trying to get into harmony with the note. It grew louder to the point of being painful and men screamed in pain and covered their ears.

Then suddenly the sound was gone.

And so were the death-dancers.

The three advisors were dead. And from preliminary reports from the palace chirurgeon they were never truly alive. Whatever they would turn out to be, they weren’t human.

Ruffio sat in the middle of an ad hoc summit of representatives from the three nations. No monarch attended, for reasons of safety. Moreover, word was King Gregory had suffered some sort of seizure and was being attended by priests and chirurgeons.

As the most senior Roldemish noble, Duke Vladislas of Ansevat served as the informal leader of the conference. Next to him at the table sat Lord Jamison, Duke of Rillanon, flanked on one side by his grandson, Jim. Franciezka sat next to Duke Vladislas, and to her left sat the senior Keshian representative, Prince Jantashi, one of the Emperor’s many nephews.

Given the dire circumstances of the evening’s events, a great deal of wine was sitting on the table and had been partaken of freely. Jim said, ‘My lord Jantashi, if I may presume to offer a suggestion?’

‘Yes, Lord Jamison?’

‘Send word to the Jal-Pur and recall Lord Hazara-Khan. He was wrongly implicated in treason and is innocent of any such thing, but he is a valuable and talented servant of your Emperor, and you will need him in days to come.’

‘Odd to consider such a request from an enemy of the state as having any validity.’

‘Oh, I am many things, my lord,’ admitted Jim, ‘but an enemy of Kesh is not one of them.’ Glancing around the room, he said, ‘Our roles as agents of intrigue are coming to an end, Kaseem and myself.’ He neglected to mention Franciezka, assuming she’d prefer to make any such revelation on her own terms. ‘He is still too smart and talented a man not to utilize, and I will retire from public life at my king’s pleasure. But know I only sought to maintain peace between our nations, as difficult as that proved at times.’

His grandfather barely could contain his own anger, as he said, ‘And need I remind you, Prince Jantashi, that we had peace, nearly a century of it, except for those nasty little brawls in the Vale, until your nation launched a full-scale invasion of mine?’

It was the magician who spoke. ‘Forgive the interruption, my lords, from this commoner, but it is clear that magic played a hand. Several of your own parties are repeating that it is as if they have awakened from a dream, some claiming to have been that way for years. The three advisors who perished were not human, but creatures of some alien nature which have been among us for a long time. Sir William was a young soldier with King Gregory nearly thirty years ago, and likewise Prince Harfum and Lord John have been fixtures in the capital for decades, slowly building up their influence. But consider how no one ever questioned the power they so gradually built up.’

Two other magicians had accompanied Ruffio from the Academy and both were, like the red-clad spell-caster, also servants of the Conclave of Shadows. One had been detailed to examine the corpses of the three dead nobles, while the other had been speaking to anyone and everyone who exhibited any signs of having been under those dead nobles’ influences.

‘We will not know much more for some time to come,’ said Ruffio, absently stroking his black beard, ‘but I am certain we shall find the recent insanity was the result of this plan, and whoever was behind it.’

‘Just who are you?’ asked Lord Vladislas.

‘A humble servant,’ answered Ruffio with a self-deprecating smile. Jim knew better, but kept his mouth shut. ‘I teach at the Academy at Stardock. Pug of Stardock asked us to keep an eye on this meeting, for it was obviously a critical one, and his concerns proved justified. I am sorry it took us so long to react, but we thought it wise not to come too close to the meeting.’ He glanced around and added, ‘We assumed there would be other magic-users, those loyal to the rulers, in attendance as well. This obviously was not the case. Why is that?’

If the idea of a commoner questioning them rankled, the attending nobles kept it under control. It was Prince Jantashi who said, ‘The Emperor, blessings be upon him, had a magical adviser, when he was young. It resulted from a horrible attempt on the life of his grandfather. It was before my time, so I am vague on the details. But I know that for many years there was a court magician.’ His voice dropped as he said, ‘I believe it was Lord Harfum who ended that practice.’

Ruffio nodded. He glanced at Lord Jamison. ‘King Borric had a pet magician,’ he said gruffly. He looked at Ruffio. ‘If you’re from Stardock, ask Pug about his last conversation with King Patrick. It’s why there’s been no court magician in Rillanon since.’

Ruffio nodded. ‘I’ve heard the story, my lord.’

‘Roldem has never had any court magic,’ said Vladislas.

Ruffio shrugged. ‘Had we but known, we might have saved a few more lives.’

Vladislas said, ‘Look, this is all well and good and I’m sure Ruffio here will be happy to tell anyone how he did what he did to get rid of those things but our job is to end this damn bloody war.’ He glanced at Jantashi, who nodded.

To the Keshian, he said, ‘You started it and it was your message to our king that halted it. What do you suggest?’

‘To be honest, my lord, I doubt there’s a sane man in the Empire who knows why we invaded the Isles. If we were going to attack, the Vale is the only place worth claiming, and the cost of winning it is more than that lush valley is worth. It’s clear that the evolution of reasons, the displacement of rebellious tribes from the Confederacy, the “reclaiming” of Bosania, the ultimate subjugation of Queg, and the re-establishment of ancient borders were simply a means to create as much war fever as possible among those members of the Gallery of Lords and Masters who were not directly under Prince Harfum’s influence.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Until the Emperor, blessings be upon him, is safely back in his palace, I have no idea what is possible.’

‘You could pick up your toys and go home,’ said Lord James.

‘We have colonists scattered from Carse to the Yabon border in the Far Coast region, my lord. We occupy half of the city of Ylith. We have three enclaves along the coast of the Free Cities, and a total blockade of Krondor and Port Vykor. And you want us to “pick up our toys”?’

‘Yes,’ said James.

Jim watched his grandfather closely and saw a determination in his expression he’d not seen for years. Half of Jim’s life had been involved in criminal behaviour, but the other half had been in service to the Crown, and his exemplar for that sat to his right. His grandfather was prepared to die this very moment for what he believed in.

‘I have no authority to negotiate a settlement,’ said Prince Jantashi.

‘Just what authority to you have?’ asked Duke Vladislas.

The Prince smiled. ‘Not much really. Anything I agree to can obviously be countermanded by the Emperor, blessings be upon him. Just as your kings can overrule you.’

‘Understood,’ said James, ‘but you’re not just sitting here taking up space, are you?’

‘I can agree to maintain the current armistice until more formal negotiations are undertaken. I think you’ll agree that given what we endured earlier today, any hope of a quick resolution is unreasonable.’

‘We want concessions,’ said James.

‘What do you ask?’

‘Get your boys out of Yabon. Pull them back to the border with Crydee so we can get some up there. Young Lord Martin’s got a starving city and no easy way to bring in food and relief.’

Jim barely could contain himself. His grandfather was lying like a gambler with a pair of loaded dice. Caravans of foodstuff had already been dispatched from Krondor via Sarth and the Quegans were keeping Kesh’s fleet south of their island in check. In fact, relations between the Kingdom and Queg had never been better: nothing like a common enemy to get rivals to put aside differences. No, Jim’s grandfather was already planning a campaign to retake Crydee from Kesh and wanted Kesh’s permission to go ahead. Jim hoped this Keshian prince was as ignorant of geography and politics in the north as most Keshian Truebloods.

Prince Jantashi nodded. ‘I’ll ask for a withdrawal to the border.’ Then he smiled. ‘Plot your invasion of Crydee, Lord James. I am certain that within a year or so the Emperor will gladly return it to you. No need for bloodshed if you’re patient.’

Jim could barely contain his smile as his grandfather fumed. Apparently this Keshian prince had been selected for more than who he was related to. He turned to Jim and said, ‘I will seriously consider your recommendation regarding Lord Hazara-Khan. The men of the Jal-Pur have been among our most loyal subjects for centuries, and he was one of those who obviously was not ensorcelled by Prince Harfum and his minions.’ To their host, he said, ‘Lord Vladislas, our thanks for your hospitality. Kesh knows that Roldem is entirely blameless for the butchery done this day and our Emperor, blessings be upon him, wishes his beloved brother King Carol to know that he is held in the highest regard. Kesh’s fleet in the Sea of Kingdoms will withdraw to our traditional spheres of control.’ He rose and the others rose as well, then sat down again after he had left.

‘Well, James,’ said Vladislas, ‘now that the formalities are over, what do you suggest?’

‘I don’t know about you, Vlad, but I think this would be a very good time to get drunk.’ He reached for a flagon of wine as he spoke.

‘How is your king?’ asked the Duke Vladislas.

James said, ‘I fear the worst. Gregory was never a robust man. He … looked stricken when they carried him out. We have to wait for what the chirurgeons say.’

‘I will pray for him tonight,’ said the Duke, and Duke James knew he would, as his old friend was a pious man. Still, he surprised everyone when he reached for a goblet and said, ‘But I find your suggestion earlier a very good idea.’

Jim looked at Franciezka, who nodded at him. They stood up from the table simultaneously and indicated that Ruffio should join them, leaving the two old dukes to spend time alone. When the three were out of the room, Jim said, ‘Where is Pug?’

Ruffio glanced at Lady Franciezka.

Jim said, ‘Speak freely. I tell her everything.’

If there had been a single moment in her life where the Lady Franciezka Sorboz had to muster up every bit of control she could to keep from laughing, this was that moment. Most of her entire relationship with Jim had revolved around them keeping secrets from one another, secrets the other was desperately seeking to uncover.

Ruffio seemed to understand the jest, and shrugged. ‘He and Magnus are off on an errand he judges critical.’ Lowering his voice, ‘Apparently Miranda and Nakor are back.’

James Dasher Jamison was speechless. Finally he said, ‘But they’re dead.’

With a rueful smile, Ruffio said, ‘Such was the general consensus. Several of my colleagues saw Miranda die, and Nakor never returned from a journey to another realm with Pug and Magnus. But two of my most trusted aides sent word that they had returned to Sorcerer’s Isle and were having lunch with Amirantha the Warlock, and Sandreena the Knight-Adamant of the Order of the Shield.’

‘Aides?’ asked Jim. ‘You’ve been promoted?’

Ruffio nodded. ‘Pug anticipates everything. As Magnus will some day replace him, I am to replace Magnus. I am now leader of the Conclave in their absence.’

Franciezka chuckled. ‘Well, I’d better update my journals.’

Ruffio said, ‘I will leave you now.’ He reached into his belt and pulled out a small pouch. ‘I understand your last orb failed. Here’s another for your convenience. The first setting will take you to the Villa, of course. I’ve set the second setting to return you to the palace in Rillanon, and the third to the palace in Krondor.’

Jim was delighted. ‘Thank you, Ruffio!’

‘There is also a small cube. Throw the small switch and I will be summoned.’ He glanced around and said, ‘I fear that the damage done by those three … homunculi or whatever they were, is far from being undone. We have war and distrust and three nations at a standstill and it may be years before we return to something approaching tranquillity.’

Jim nodded. ‘It is my considered opinion that the object of all this madness is nothing more than to lock three nations up in such a fashion that they are unable to respond to any new threat.’

‘Such is Pug’s thinking,’ said Ruffio.

Before anyone could say anything further, a squire in the livery of the Isles hurried by, dashing into the room they had just left. Franciezka glanced at Jim, as the colour drained from his face. She gripped his arm; then he ran into the room.

‘I can feel it. King Gregory is dead,’ Franciezka said.

Ruffio let out a slow breath. ‘May his journey on the wheel bring him more joy.’ He looked at her and said, ‘I need to return to the Academy and explain that involving Stardock in politics is the height of folly. Then I will away to the Isle and see to the business of the Conclave.’ He smiled at her. ‘Your reputation does you no justice, in either beauty and acumen, my lady. Know that the Conclave means no hard to any nation or ruler. We serve only to protect the world.’

Then he was gone.

Franciezka turned as Jim came out of the room his grandfather occupied and said, ‘Now we have no king, and no heir.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘First go to Krondor. I must speak with my cousin Richard and Prince Edward. He ranks highest in office, but his claim is weaker than several others. Speaking of which, would you see to Stephane? Unless I’m tragically mistaken, she means to have young Hal as husband, and if no one has watched closely, she most likely has him between the sheets already; her best ploy may be to announce to her father she is with child and the young Duke of Crydee is the father.’

‘She’s not that devious,’ said Franciezka with a half-smile.

‘She’s a woman, isn’t she?’

‘I’ll forgive you for that remark if you tell me where you are going after Krondor.’

‘To Rillanon, and to see the temper of the Congress of Lords. We have claimants to the throne, including the Princess’s object of affection, but no clear favourite. Thrones will be bartered and promises made and broken. Alliance and betrayal are the order of the day, and if someone is foolish enough, we may see civil war.’

‘Might it come to that, with Kesh on your borders?’

Jim laughed. ‘As my ancestor, the first Lord James is reputed to have said, “Never underestimate the potential for human stupidity when wealth and power are at stake.”’

She sighed. ‘I fear you’re right. Now, go, and mourn your king, and see to the business of your nation, but know that I will wait to see you again in happier circumstances.’

‘Lady, you have no idea how much it pleases me to hear you say thus. If there is one thing in this bitter experience I would not trade for the Keshian treasury, it is hearing you say that.’

She looked at him for a long moment. ‘I do love you, you fool.’

‘And I love you more than the breath in my lungs.’ He kissed her and held her close, then took out the travel orb and flipped the switch and was gone.

Lady Franciezka Sorboz stood motionless for a moment, having never felt so alone in her life.

Magnus stood alone on the cold beach, ignoring the bitter winter wind from the south. He struggled with dark anger unlike any he had known since boyhood.

Magnus reflected as he stared out at the lapping waves. Fatigue had forced him to take time away from studying the matrix and in his heart he knew part of what was causing it was the conflict he felt at seeing his mother’s face every time he pulled away from his study.

Magnus sighed. Staring out at the sea had always been his way to grapple with his internal conflicts. He had been a quiet boy, slow to anger, thoughtful and studious. When his little brother had been born he had been like most other children, torn between loving a companion and resenting an intruder. Caleb had been outgoing and playful, until it became clear he had no magical skills nor would he learn any.

For most children that would have been of no importance, but for Caleb it had been a burden, for he grew up on Sorcerer’s Isle, the son of Pug and Miranda, the younger brother of Magnus, and the only child not a servant who was devoid of magical ability.

Magnus had become his protector, his big brother protecting him as much as possible from the cruelties of the other boys and girls, but even then, Magnus couldn’t watch over him continuously, and as a result Caleb had still been dealt with harshly,

Pug found his son standing alone and said, ‘Are you all right?’

‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘Frankly, I am anything but all right.’

Pug sighed. ‘This encounter with those … beings … I know it’s unsettling.’

‘Unsettling?’ said Magnus, his voice rising. ‘I’ve seen how you look at her. I understand, Father. I have had moments, brief ones, where I forget, and then I remind myself, she is not Mother. She is not your wife!’

Pug saw anger in his son unlike anything he had witnessed before. ‘What is it, really?’

Magnus considered his words before speaking, then said at last, ‘What is the limit of the price you’re willing to pay?’

Pug was unprepared for his son’s question. ‘I’m not sure what you mean?’

Magnus had always been a self-aware, self-controlled child and adult, but for the first time since his birth, he looked to his father as if it was taking all his self-control to keep from erupting in rage. ‘People have died, Father. Not dozens, or hundreds, or thousands, but millions. They have died because of decisions we’ve made, you and I. When does the price become too high?’

Pug was speechless.

Magnus said, ‘I guess it doesn’t really matter if you don’t know who those people are, or at least if they are not close to you.’ Magnus’s eyes were wet with barely-contained tears of frustration and anger. ‘The stories you told Caleb and me when we were boys. The hundreds that died in the arena on Kelewan? You made your point. The games were evil. And eventually you closed the rift that drew the Dragon Lords, or what was left of them, to Midkemia.’

Pug’s stunned shock began to slowly turn to anger of his own. ‘Are you suggesting somehow I’m to blame for the Valheru starting the Chaos Wars ages before man came to Midkemia?’

‘Of course not!’ shouted Magnus. ‘Don’t insult my intelligence. But have you ever considered that pulling down the arena around the ears of Tsurani citizens whose only crime was to attend a public festival might have been the first time in your life you looked at human life as yours to spend? At whim?’

Pug grabbed Magnus by the front of his robe and cried, ‘What is this about, Magnus?’

Pushing his father’s hands away, Magnus said, ‘You destroyed a world, Father. You did your best to get people free of it, but in the end … I don’t know how many died because of what you did.’

‘I had no choice!’ shouted Pug.

‘There is always a choice,’ said Magnus. ‘From the choice to do nothing and let events take their course, to constantly meddling and wreaking havoc on other people’s lives. It just seems that your choices bring about the most destruction.’ He looked at his father as if seeing him for the first time. ‘I don’t know you.’

‘You know what’s at stake.’

‘Do I?’ said Magnus. ‘I know who we face. I will not argue that we have been opposed by forces evil beyond understanding. Madness is their hallmark, and chaos is their chosen mode, but in the end I must ask, have we done our best in opposing them, or do we flail about, breaking whatever gets in our way, because we never ask the question: at what price?’

‘We pay whatever price is asked,’ Pug answered. ‘Otherwise all we know, and more, worlds beyond counting, are lost.’

Magnus turned and looked out over the ocean. ‘I stand here and look out and see miles of rolling waves. Under the water life is teeming, oblivious to what we undertake in our struggles. In the sky birds soar, our conflicts meaning nothing to them. And this is but one world. I’ve seen the stars in the heavens and know the engine of creation is vast beyond my ability to comprehend it, yet in the end I feel as I have said, that there is a limit!’ His voice rose and he pointed back towards the Pantathian city. ‘In there is an abomination. Two people I loved more than I loved any other, my mother and Nakor, are captured in some evil design and returned to us, and for what reason? Even they confess to not knowing why. But I think it’s simply another jest by the gods to convince us that there is no limit to the price. And I want no more of it.’

And with that, Magnus vanished.

Pug stood alone on the cliffs looking at a cold, choppy sea, a chilly early morning wind cutting into him, and never in his life had he felt more alone.