The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

found his mind going vague again. For a long moment there was silence in the night, then suddenly an alarm sounded from the castle. Arutha felt relief. The red beacon was the signal for reavers in the harbor, and the castle garrison had been well drilled to meet such raids. Fannon might be cautious with chasing Tsurani raiders into the woods at night, but a pirate ship in his harbor was something he would not hesitate to answer.

      Arutha staggered down the stairs, stopping to support himself at the door. His entire body hurt, and he was nearly overcome by dizziness. He drew a deep breath and headed for the town. When he came to where his dead horse lay, he looked about for his sword, then remembered he had carried it with him into the harbor. He stumbled to where one of his riders lay, next to a black-clad bowman. Arutha bent down to pick up the fallen soldier’s sword, nearly blacking out as he stood. He held himself erect for a moment, fearing he might lose consciousness if he moved, and waited as the ringing in his head subsided. He slowly reached up and touched his head. One particularly sore spot, with an angry lump forming, told him he had struck his head hard at least once as he fell down the causeway. His fingers came away sticky with clotting blood.

      Arutha began to walk to town, and as he moved, the ringing in his head resumed. For a time he staggered, then he tried to force himself to run, but after only three wobbly strides he resumed his clumsy walk. He hurried as much as he could, rounding the bend in the road to come in sight of town. He heard faint sounds of fighting. In the distance he could see the red light of fires springing heavenward as buildings were put to the torch. Screams of men and women sounded strangely remote and muted to Arutha’s ears.

      He forced himself into a trot, and as he closed upon the town, anticipation of fighting forced away much of the fog clouding his mind. He turned along the harborside; with the dockside buildings burning, it was bright as day, but no one was in sight. Against the quayside the raiders’ ship rested, a gangway leading down to the dock. Arutha approached quietly, fearing guards had been left to protect it. When he reached the gangway, all was quiet. The sounds of fighting were distant, as if all the raiders had attacked deeply into the town.

      As he began to move away, a voice cried out from the ship, ‘Gods of mercy! Is anyone there?’ The voice was deep and powerful, but with a controlled note of terror.

      Arutha hurried up the gangway, sword ready. He stopped when he reached the top. From the forward hatch cover he could see fire glowing brightly belowdecks. He looked about: everywhere his eyes traveled he saw seamen lying dead in their own blood. From the rear of the ship the voice cried out, ‘You, man. If you’re a godsfearing man of the Kingdom, come help me.’

      Arutha made his way amid the camage and found a man sitting against the starboard rail. He was large, broad-shouldered, and barrel-chested. He could have been any age between twenty and forty. He held the side of an ample stomach with his right hand, blood seeping through his fingers. Curly dark hair swept back from a receding hairline, and he wore his black beard cut short. He managed a weak smile as he pointed to a black-clothed figure lying nearby. ‘The bastards killed my crew and fired my ship. That one made the mistake of not killing me with the first blow.’ He pointed at the section of a fallen yard pinning his legs. ‘I can’t manage to budge that damned yard and hold my guts in at the same time. If you’d lift it a bit, I think I can pull myself free.’

      Arutha saw the problem: the man was pinned down at the short end of the yard, tangled in a mass of ropes and blocks. He gripped the long end and heaved upward, moving it only a few inches, but enough. With a half grunt, half groan, the wounded man pulled his legs out. ‘I don’t think my legs are broken, lad. Give me a hand up and we’ll see.’

      Arutha gave him a hand and nearly lost his footing pulling the bulky seaman to his feet. ‘Here, now,’ said the wounded man. ‘You’re not in much of a fighting trim yourself, are you?’

      ‘I’ll be all right,’ said Arutha, steadying the man while fighting off an attack of nausea.

      The seaman leaned upon Arutha. ‘We’d better hurry, then. The fire is spreading.’ With Arutha’s help, he negotiated the gangway. When they reached the quayside, gasping for breath, the heat was becoming intense. The wounded seaman gasped, ‘Keep going!’

      Arutha nodded and slung the man’s arm over his shoulder. They set off down the quay, staggering like a pair of drunken sailors on the town.

      Suddenly there came a roar, and both men were slammed to the ground. Arutha shook his dazed head and turned over. Behind him a great tower of flames leaped skyward. The ship was a faintly seen black silhouette in the heart of the blinding yellow-and-white column of fire. Waves of heat washed over them, as if they were standing at the door of a giant oven.

      Arutha managed to croak, ‘What was that?’

      His companion gave out with an equally feeble reply: ‘Two hundred barrels of Quegan fire oil.’

      Arutha spoke in disbelief. ‘You didn’t say anything about fire oil back aboard ship.’

      ‘I didn’t want you getting excited. You looked half-gone already. I figured we’d either get clear or we wouldn’t.’

      Arutha tried to rise, but fell back. Suddenly he felt very comfortable resting on the cool stone of the quay. He saw the fire begin to dim before his eyes, then all went dark.

      Arutha opened his eyes and saw blurred shapes over him. He blinked and the images cleared. Carline hovered over his sleeping pallet, looking anxiously on as Father Tully examined him. Behind Carline, Fannon watched, and next to him stood an unfamiliar man. Then Arutha remembered him. ‘The man from the ship.’

      The man grinned. ‘Amos Trask, lately master of the Sidonie until those bast – begging the Princess’s pardon – those cursed land rats put her to the torch. Standing here thanks to Your Highness.’

      Tully interrupted. ‘How do you feel?’

      Arutha sat up, finding his body a mass of dull aches. Carline placed cushions behind her brother. ‘Battered, but I’ll survive.’ His head swam a little. ‘I’m a bit dizzy.’

      Tully looked down his nose at Arutha’s head. ‘Small wonder. You took a nasty crack. You may find yourself occasionally dizzy for a few days, but I don’t think it is serious.’

      Arutha looked at the Swordmaster. ‘How long?’

      Fannon said, ‘A patrol brought you in last night. It’s morning.’

      ‘The raid?’

      Fannon shook his head sadly. ‘The town’s gutted. We managed to kill them all, but there’s not a whole building left standing in Crydee. The fishing village at the south end of the harbor is untouched, but otherwise everything was lost.’

      Carline fussed around near Arutha, tucking in covers and fluffing his cushions. ‘You should rest.’

      He said, ‘Right now, I’m hungry.’

      She brought over a bowl of hot broth. He submitted to the light broth in place of solid food, but refused to let her spoon-feed him. Between mouthfuls he said, ‘Tell me what happened.’

      Fannon looked disturbed. ‘It was the Tsurani.’

      Arutha’s hand stopped, his spoon poised halfway between bowl and mouth. ‘Tsurani? I thought they were reavers, from the Sunset Islands.’

      ‘At first so did we, but after talking to Captain Trask here, and the Tsurani slaves who are with us, we’ve pieced together a picture of what’s happened.’

      Tully picked up the narrative. ‘From the slaves’ story, these men were specially chosen. They called it a death raid. They were selected to enter the town, destroy as much as possible, then die without fleeing. They burned the ship as much as a symbol of their commitment as to deny it to us. I gather from what they say it’s considered something of a great honor.’

      Arutha looked at Amos Trask. ‘How is it they managed to seize your ship, Captain?’

      ‘Ah, that is a bitter story, Highness.’ He leaned to his right a little, and Arutha