The Serpentwar Saga. Raymond E. Feist

      ‘Downhill from here,’ said Billy.

      Suddenly Nakor’s mare took a bite at Billy’s horse, and his animal reared. Nakor shouted, ‘Look out!’

      Billy lost his grip on his reins and fell backwards, and landed hard on the ground. Erik jumped down from his animal and ran over while Billy’s horse ran after the herd.

      Leaning over, he saw Billy staring up into the sky. His head rested upon a large rock while a crimson pool spread behind him.

      Nakor shouted, ‘How is he?’

      Erik said, ‘He’s dead.’

      There was a moment of silence, then Nakor said, ‘I’ll follow the horses. You bring him along to where we can bury him.’

      Erik stood up, started to reach down to grab Billy, and suddenly remembered having to pick up Tyndal’s body. ‘Oh, damn,’ he said as tears came unbidden to his eyes.

      He found himself trembling as he realized that of those who had been sentenced to hang that day, Billy was the first to die. ‘Oh, damn,’ he repeated, as he stood clenching and unclenching his fists. ‘Why?’ he asked the fates.

      One moment Billy had been sitting astride his horse; the next he was dead. And nothing more important than a stupid, poorly trained gelding shying from a bite by a mare in heat had caused it.

      Erik didn’t know why he suddenly felt so sad at Billy’s death. He felt his body tremble, and realized he was afraid. Sucking down a lungful of air, he closed his eyes and bent and picked up Billy. The body was surprisingly light. He turned and moved to his own horse, who started to shy as he approached. ‘Whoa!’ he commanded, almost yelling, and the horse obeyed.

      He lifted Billy across the horse’s neck and the front of the saddle, then swung up behind. Sliding into the saddle, he lifted Billy enough so that he could rest him as much as possible across his upper thighs, so the horse could manage the weight. Slowly he moved after the distant herd.

      ‘Damn,’ he whispered again as he willed his fear and anger back deep inside himself.

      A man named Notombi, with a heavy Keshian accent, was moved into their tent, taking Billy’s place. The five remaining members of Erik’s company were cordial, but distant. While he was an outsider, his training made him mesh quickly, knowing exactly which duties to perform without being told.

      Two days after crossing the ridge of the mountains, Kirzon and his sons pointed the way down and returned to their hunting. Calis paid them off in gold and bade them farewell.

      Erik returned to the routine of travel, though the difficult descent into the hills west of the mountains gave little time for reflection. He buried all his memories of his feelings at Billy’s death and continued as before.

      Five days after crossing the mountains, they encountered a difficult rise. Erik went ahead with Calis to scout out a clear trail before allowing the full company to proceed. Turning around nearly seventy-five riders and another thirty remounts was tricky business under the best of conditions. In tight quarters, it was nearly impossible.

      Reaching a crest, they reined in and Erik exclaimed, ‘The gods weep!’

      In the distance, to the north, the great tower of smoke that had been turning the sun red could now be seen. ‘How far is that?’ asked Erik.

      Still more than a hundred miles distant,’ answered Calis. ‘They must be burning every village and farm within a week’s ride of Khaipur. The wind’s blowing it east, else we’d be tasting that soot as well as seeing it.’

      Erik’s eyes stung slightly. ‘I’m feeling it now.’

      Calis smiled his strange half-smile. ‘It would be worse if you were closer.’

      Riding back, they found an easier trail than the first, and as they moved toward the company, Erik said, ‘Captain, what are our chances of getting home?’

      Calis laughed, and Erik turned to regard him. ‘You’re the first with the grit to come out and ask; I was wondering who it would be.’

      Erik said nothing.

      Calis said, ‘I think our chances of getting home are as good as we can make them. Only the gods know just how mad this plan is.’

      ‘Why couldn’t you sneak one man in, have him look around, then sneak him out?’

      ‘Good question,’ said Calis. ‘We tried. Several times.’ He glanced around as he rode, as if scouting was a habit. ‘This land is a land of few standing armies, as we know them in the Kingdom and Kesh. Here you’re either a swordsman for your family or clan, or you’re in the palace guard of some city ruler, or you’re a hired sword. Mercenary armies are the rule.’

      ‘I would think that with hired swords on both sides, it would be easy enough to slip a man across the lines.’

      Calis’s expression showed it was a fair observation. ‘One would think that. But a single man attracts notice, especially one who is ignorant of basic customs and attitudes. But a company of freebooters from a distant land? That’s not unusual in these parts. And reputation counts for much. So, I am Calis, and we’re the Crimson Eagles, and no one looks twice at an elf living among humans here. A “long-lived” leading such a company is rare but not unheard of. You would be found out by magic or treachery were you to come here alone, Erik. But as a member of my company, no one will pay you the least heed.’ He said nothing for a while, looking down on the rolling hills that led down to the river. After a while he said, ‘This is a beautiful land, isn’t it?’

      Erik said, ‘Yes, it seems so.’

      Calis was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Twenty-four years ago I came to this country for the first time, Erik. I’ve been back twice since then, once with my own army. I’ve left graves behind me in numbers you can’t imagine.’

      ‘I overheard de Loungville and Nakor, back on Sorcerer’s Isle,’ admitted Erik as he reined his horse around for better footing on the trail. ‘It sounded terrible.’

      ‘It was. Many of the Kingdom’s best soldiers died on that march. Hand-picked men. Foster, de Loungville, and a few others were able to escape with me, and only because we took a chance and went where the enemy didn’t expect us to go.’ Calis was again silent a moment. ‘That’s why I agreed with Bobby’s plan, and convinced Arutha that only men desperate to stay alive would serve. Soldiers are all too willing to die for the colors, and we need men who would do everything in their power to stay alive, short of betraying us.’

      Erik nodded. ‘And soldiers don’t make convincing mercenaries.’

      ‘That, too. You’re going to meet some men who will change your thinking about what humanity is capable of, and you won’t be better for knowing them.’ He looked at Erik as if studying him. ‘You’re part of an odd lot. We searched for those things in each man that would give us all the chance of blending in – an ability to be violent, no pretension of ideals, just men who are as rough as those we must go among – but we also needed men who were more than the common scum the tides of battle usually wash ashore. We needed men who, when it came time, would answer the call rather than run.’ He smiled and it was a smile of genuine amusement. ‘Or at least they would run in the proper direction, and keep their wits about them.’ As if a thought struck him for the first time, he said, ‘I think I had better keep you and your company close by. Most of the men we’ve selected are cutthroats who would happily kill their grannies to earn a gold piece, but your little band numbers some of our oddest characters. If your friend Biggo starts talking about the Death Goddess – who is a figure of terror in this land, named Khali-shi, and who is only worshiped in secret – or if Sho Pi starts discussing philosophy with some of the blood drinkers we’re going to hook up with, we’ll have hell to pay. I’ll tell de Loungville when we camp tonight that your six is to be billeted closest to my tent.’

      Erik fell silent. He was surprised that Calis knew enough about them as individuals to know about Biggo’s theories on