The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist

give that pleasure to Delekhan.’ Turning to the others, he said, ‘Drug them, bind them, and bring their horses!’

      Owyn was roughly pulled upright and a bitter drink was forced past his lips. He tried to spit it out and was hit hard across the face for his trouble. His head was cruelly pulled back and his nose held while the concoction was poured down his throat. He was forced to swallow. A few moments after he had, he felt his legs and arms growing leaden, his mind confused, and his vision hard to focus. He found his hands tied tightly behind him and a blindfold tied around his head. Then he was hoisted into his saddle by rough hands. Once there, his feet were lashed to his stirrups, and the horse was led away. Other men and dark elves appeared, leading horses, and Narab ordered them to mount.

      The nightmare ride began.

      

      The horses were changed many times, and Owyn remembered resting for a period – minutes or hours he couldn’t recall – but he knew time was passing. The drug was obviously designed to dull his mind so that whatever magic he might have possessed was unavailable to him. Several times he became aware enough to realize the drug was wearing off, but then he was given more to drink. Once he fell awkwardly from the saddle and hung by the ties on his feet, forcing his captors to halt and right him. They added more ropes.

      He was vaguely aware of being thirsty and hungry, but it was a distant discomfort. Mostly he existed in a grey fog, punctuated by the constant pounding from the horse upon which he rode. Then he was dragged from the horse and hauled through a cold, damp place and cast down onto rough stones. He lay there for a time, lapsing in and out of consciousness. Then, eventually, one moment ceased passing into the next, and he awoke in pain. He moved slowly, and discovered himself free of leg restraints, though his arms were still bound and he was still blindfolded.

      Owyn sat up and moved his aching and stiff legs. The insides of both of them were bruised and he knew he had ridden a long way without being able to sit a comfortable seat. Even had he been conscious he sensed the ride would have been punishing; it had taken at least seven or eight days, from what he could recall, and he had switched horses a number of times. But with senses dulled and tied to his saddle, it was only by the gods’ mercy he was still alive.

      The sound of footfalls, heavy boots on stone, approached and the sound of a cell being unlocked announced the arrival of his captives. Hands yanked Owyn to his feet and he couldn’t avoid groaning in pain.

      The blindfold was removed from his eyes and even the relatively low brightness of a torch outside the cell caused Owyn to blink. A dagger cut through the ropes around his wrists, and when he moved his arms, agony shot through his shoulders. The pain almost caused him to fall, but he was held upright by two guards.

      Narab came to stand before Owyn and said, ‘He should still have enough of the drug in him to be harmless.’ He turned and they escorted Owyn out of the cell. From a cell next door, Gorath was also escorted, and Owyn noticed he didn’t seem to be in better shape, though he walked with apparently less discomfort.

      The tunnel was long and dark, and Owyn sensed it was deep underground. Despite his dulled magic senses, he knew immediately that at one time great power had resided here. There was something ancient and terrible about this place, and despite his drug-dulled senses, he was very afraid.

      They were taken through a series of tunnels to a landing from which rose broad stairs. They were escorted up the stairs along a wide hallway, and led to a massive chamber. In the centre of the chamber rested a massive throne, currently empty. At its right was another, smaller throne, upon which sat a large, powerfully-built moredhel, who could only be Delekhan.

      Narab said, ‘Master, I have a prize for you.’

      The guards pushed Owyn and Gorath forward, so they landed sprawling at Delekhan’s feet. ‘What is this?’ Delekhan demanded, rising to stand over Gorath.

      ‘Gorath of the Ardanien! I have captured him. Let me have the honour of cutting out his heart to revenge my brother’s death.’

      ‘Your brother was a fool!’ shouted Delekhan. Owyn looked up at the towering figure, and saw a broad face, surprisingly blunt of features for one of elvenkind. His face was a mask of rage, the most expression Owyn had seen on a dark elf so far. ‘And you are as well,’ Delekhan added. ‘You’ve wrecked everything, you dog!’

      Owyn looked at Narab, who stood white-faced, almost trembling with shock and outrage. ‘But … I have brought back a traitor! We can torture him to discover the names of the other dissidents –’

      ‘You know nothing!’ Delekhan turned to the guards. ‘Return those two to their cells below. I will question them later.’ To Narab he said, ‘Your life hangs by the slimmest thread. Presume one more time and your head will adorn a pike outside the gate!’ Walking away, he said, ‘Now get out of my sight, you bungler, and do not dare to approach me until I send for you.’

      Although Owyn was no expert on the facial expressions of the moredhel, he could see murder clearly written on Narab’s face. And it was directed at Delekhan’s retreating back. Owyn was jerked around by two guards, hauling him to his feet, and once again he was forced to march back into the bowels of the dungeons at Sar-Sargoth.

      

      No food or water was brought, and Owyn considered it academic, as they were likely to be dead within hours. Time passed slowly and Gorath was silent. Owyn felt no impulse to speak, as he was awash with numbing fatigue. The ride, the lack of food and sleep, the drug, all were making it difficult for him to do anything but lie on the icy stones and attempt to rest.

      Time passed slowly, a blur of thoughts which fled before they were remembered, perhaps he dozed for a while.

      Then suddenly he sat up, his skin tingling. Magic! Energized by the fey effect of someone, somewhere casting an enchantment, he reached for the bars of his cell. A metallic click sounded and the bars pushed open. ‘Gorath!’ he said in a harsh whisper.

      Gorath looked over and his eyes widened as he saw Owyn free. ‘Someone is using magic to set us free!’ Owyn said, moving through the door, his injuries and fatigue forgotten.

      Gorath tested his door and found it also unlatched. ‘Who?’ he wondered.

      ‘I have no idea,’ said Owyn. ‘Whoever helped you escape the north the last time, perhaps?’

      ‘Let us worry about that later,’ advised Gorath. ‘We must get out of this fortress before we are missed.’

      They moved through the halls of the dungeon. At the large hall that led upward they found a dead guard, his blood freshly pooled on the floor. ‘Whoever threw the spell must have done it from here,’ suggested Owyn.

      ‘Over there,’ said Gorath, pointing to a table upon which were piled the belongings that had been stripped from the two prisoners. Gorath put on his sword and tossed Owyn his staff. Owyn said, ‘I don’t suppose they left me any of my gold?’

      Gorath said, ‘Hardly.’

      Owyn knelt and examined the dead guard. He came away with a small pouch. ‘Well, this will have to do.’

      Moving to the stairway, Owyn asked, ‘Do you know a way out of here?’

      ‘Several,’ replied Gorath. ‘This city was built for tens of thousands of my people to occupy. If Delekhan has more than a few hundred outside of the central palace area, I’ll be shocked. Moreover, many of the tribes here are strangers to one another, and there are many human renegades as well, so once we are free of the central palace, we may be able to use guile to find our way out.’ He moved up the stairs. ‘But only if we are away from here when they find we are gone.’

      Gorath led Owyn up a flight of stone steps, through a hall, and down a dark passage. Moment to moment they expected to hear the alarm raised behind them, but no hue sounded.

      Suddenly they were above ground, in a courtyard devoid of life. Gorath motioned and Owyn followed, the twin spurs of fear and hope moving him despite his injuries and the drugs still in him.

      

      They