Wrath of a Mad God. Raymond Feist

in the day’ stories from the old timers, not a few of which revolved around the notorious Jimmy the Hand, a thief who according to legend became an agent of the Prince of Krondor, then later was given a noble title, rising to the rank of Duke of both Rillanon and Krondor, the two most powerful offices in the Kingdom after the King.

      Jommy studied the thief. He hardly knew him, but found him agreeable company, his outrageous stories were a welcome relief from the tedium of days spent waiting for an enemy who might never appear. He had no doubt Jim was every bit as dangerous as he claimed to be, but there was a quality under the surface that Jommy had learned to recognized at an early age out on the road alone: an instinct about who he could trust and who he couldn’t. He nodded, then said, ‘Jim, I’ll never call you a liar until the day I catch you out.’

      Jim stared at Jommy for a long moment, then the grin returned. ‘Fair enough.’

      Servan turned his attention back to the distant beach they had been assigned to watch. ‘How much longer?’

      ‘As long as it takes,’ said Jommy.

      ‘Which won’t be much longer,’ said Jim, pointing off into the rainy gloom. ‘Boat coming.’

      ‘How can you—’ began Servan, then he saw it, a tiny dark speck that grew larger by the moment as a longboat came into the cove.

      ‘Must be a ship lying off,’ said Jommy.

      ‘I’ll tell the Captain,’ said Servan, scrambling from under the lean-to. ‘You watch them.’

      Jommy also got out from under the shelter. ‘Let’s get a little closer.’

      Jim held him back. ‘Wait. There’s another boat.’

      After a moment, Jommy could see a second longboat coming out of the gloom, following the first by a dozen yards. ‘Now,’ whispered Jim, though they were far too distant to be overheard, ‘what do you think of that?’

      Jommy said, ‘Well, I can say the intelligence the Captain received was correct so far.’

      ‘Not about the second boat,’ corrected Jim.

      ‘Picky,’ Jommy muttered.

      The two longboats rowed in to shore, and men leaped out of each and pulled them up on the sand, securing them with stakes and ropes. ‘Looks like they plan on being here for a while,’ said Jommy.

      ‘What’s that?’ asked Jim, pointing to the second boat.

      The crew of the two boats were dressed like common seamen, though each sported a black headcloth, tied behind the left ear. Most were barefoot, marking them as sailors, though some wore heavy boots. But the last man leaving the second boat wore robes of dark orange trimmed with black. His features were masked by a hood, but the other men seemed deferential to the point of fear. None offered to help him exit the craft and all gave him a wide berth as he came ashore.

      ‘Magician,’ said Jim, almost spitting out the word, ‘I hate magicians.’

      ‘I’ve met a few I like,’ Jommy said quietly.

      ‘Well, I haven’t. Damn near had my head removed by a magical trap down in Darindus one time. There’s no trap made by the hand of mortal man I can’t puzzle out with enough time, but magic …’

      ‘Well,’ said Jommy, ‘I’ve met a few who are all right.’

      Jim fell silent as the men in the boat spread out. It was clear that they were checking the surrounding area to see if they were observed. Jommy and Jim reached up and quietly took apart the hastily constructed lean-to, hiding the canvas behind the tree, then they both moved to a denser stand of bushes to the right. Without a word, they shared the same thought: in a few minutes an armed company of men, numbering twice those on the beach, would come over the rise behind them, but until that moment, it would be a good thing not to be seen by these men.

      Jommy felt Jim’s hand tighten on his shoulder. Jim pointed at himself and Jommy, then back up the hill. Jommy pointed to a small outcrop a hundred feet back up the trail, and Jim nodded. They moved through the rain which was letting up a bit, causing Jommy to curse under his breath. He wanted more cover, not less, and the weather had picked a very inconvenient time to become more clement after days of punishing him.

      When they reached the outcrop they both lay down, ignoring the soaking mud. The men from the boats had spread out to form a perimeter and a few began unloading what looked to be supplies.

      ‘Looks like they plan on staying a while,’ repeated Jommy.

      ‘A third boat!’ whispered Jim.

      The third boat put in to the right of the others and more sailors leaped out, hauled it on to the beach and quickly began unloading provisions. More crates were passed along and Jim observed, ‘They may be murderous dogs, but they’re disciplined.’

      Jommy observed their efficiency without comment.

      Jim whispered, ‘Those head-scarves. Saw something like that on some corpses down in the south Sunsets, about a week’s sailing out of Freeport.’

      ‘Who are they?’

      ‘Wouldn’t rightly know: these are the first ones I’ve seen who weren’t dead. We came across a smoking hulk, burned down to the waterline, beached on an island with no proper name. The ship was known to my captain, but the corpses wearing those head-scarves were unknown to any sailor on that ship. Bit of a mystery as no man living was around to tell us the story of what had happened. We can only assume that the captain and crew of the burned ship had been carried off as slaves.’

      The sound of movement from behind them caused both young men to turn around. Kaspar and Captain Stefan were coming down the hill in a crouch. Stirrings amongst the undergrowth revealed that men were moving into position to encircle the landing party.

      ‘How many?’ asked Kaspar, his eyes scanning the cove.

      ‘About thirty,’ said Jommy, ‘and they have a spell-caster of some kind in their midst. The crew seems downright afraid of him.’

      Jim said, ‘Looks like some pirates out of the Sunsets, General.’

      Kaspar muttered, ‘What are they doing here?’

      Jim whispered, ‘If you sail straight west out of the Sunsets …’

      ‘You end up in the Sea of Kingdoms,’ finished Kaspar. ‘I know how they got here. What I want to know is why.’ To Captain Stefan, Kaspar said, ‘Pass the word. I want prisoners. Especially that magician if we can manage it.’

      ‘Magicians,’ said Jim, as if it were a curse word.

      Jommy exchanged glances with Kaspar. ‘I said I’ve known some good ones.’

      Kaspar’s smile was rueful. ‘And I’ve know some who were bloody monsters,’ returned the General. ‘Captain?’

      ‘Sir?’

      ‘Are the men in position?’

      The Captain turned and made a slight hand gesture. Wherever he looked up on the hill, Jommy couldn’t see the returned signal, but the Captain said, ‘In position, sir.’

      Kaspar nodded. ‘Captain, whenever you’re ready—’

      ‘What is that?’ asked Jim, pointing.

      The others didn’t need Jim to explain what ‘that’ was, for they saw it too. The magician was holding a staff above his head and a pillar of light appeared around him, reaching up into the clouds. A hollow voice speaking in a language unfamiliar to either onlooker answered seemingly from the air around the magician.

      Then a figure appeared before the spell-caster, a shadowy thing draped in smoke. Even through the constant sound of the rain they could hear the air thrum with energy and crackle as if sparks were dancing off metal. The thing spoke and again that hollow voice echoed alien words. The magician replied in the foreign tongue and the creature