could settle the dispute. Humans had escaped because of the fighting. No one could find the master, and Gorath had cursed all omens, prophecies and heralds of destruction, and had returned to gather the Ardanien and lead them northward.
Most of his warriors had survived, but many chieftains labelled Gorath and his followers as betrayers. For nine summers, the Ardanien lived in their valley, high up in the northern mountains, keeping their own counsel. Then had come the call.
The banners were again raised and it was Delekhan, sworn enemy – son of the man who had slain Gorath’s father, and who had died at Gorath’s hands in turn – blood enemy from birth, who rallied the clans. Delekhan who had eaten with Murad and the snake priest, and who had been the last surviving member of Murmandamus’s council. And it was Delekhan who vowed that Murmandamus still lived within a prison in the heart of Sethanon and only by freeing him could the Nations of the North take back the land seized by the hated humans.
And any who spoke against Delekhan was struck down. Dark magics were fashioned by the Six, and one by one the opponents of Delekhan’s plan vanished. Gorath knew his day was coming, and knew that he must carry word to his enemies to the south, for they were his people’s only hope.
Night, and he fled through ice and pain. Men who were once as brothers to him sought to hunt him down and end his life. Haseth, whom Gorath had taught to hold a sword, last among his blood kin, had led them. It had been by Gorath’s own hands that his last surviving kinsman had died.
Then again, he heard the thundering drums. Again he saw the fires on the hill, but now he felt his mind returning to the present, memories of his life fading away slowly …
The girl was young, not quite seventeen years of age, yet her hair was nearly white with only the faintest hint of gold in it. Pale eyes of blue regarded Gorath as she let go of his hands. Behind her stood the Prince of Krondor, the black-robed Tsurani, and another spell-caster, one who, while short of stature, was almost exuding power. Others were nearby, but those Gorath had travelled with, Owyn and Locklear, were in another room.
‘What did you see?’ asked the Prince.
‘I cannot find any falsehoods, Highness,’ said the girl in a weary tone. ‘But I cannot find the truth, either. His mind is … alien, chaotic.’
Prince Arutha’s brown eyes narrowed as he regarded Gorath. ‘He hides his thoughts?’
The bearded magician said, ‘Highness, Gorath is moredhel, and even with Gamina’s exceptional talents for reading thoughts, his mind may have many innate psychic defences. We have never had the privilege of studying a moredhel. From what I learned in my time with the eldar—’
At mention of the ancient elven lore keepers, Gorath’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are Pug,’ he said.
Pug nodded. ‘I am.’
‘We have heard of you, who studied with the eldar,’ said Gorath.
Arutha said, ‘The point?’
‘I think he’s telling the truth,’ said Pug.
‘As do I,’ said Makala. ‘Forgive me,’ said the Tsurani magician to Prince Arutha, ‘but I presumed to use my own arts to watch as the Lady Gamina examined the moredhel. It is as she has stated; there is confusion and an alien mind there, but no guile. Despite his differences from us, he is as honest a creature as you will meet.’
‘For what cause did you presume to use your arts without leave?’ asked Arutha. His tone was one of pointed curiosity, rather than anger.
‘War in the Kingdom would have many wide-ranging consequences, not the least of which would be a disruption of trade between our two worlds, Your Highness. The Light of Heaven would be most displeased if such occurred, let alone the risk if such as these—’ he indicated Gorath ‘—gleaned the secrets of the rift.’
Arutha nodded, his expression thoughtful. Gorath spoke. ‘Trading agreements notwithstanding, war benefits no one, Prince. Despite that, you must prepare your army for war.’
Arutha’s words were pointed, but his tone was even. ‘What I must or must not do will be my burden, renegade. And my decisions will be based upon more than simply the word of one dissident chieftain. If not for Locklear’s faith in you, you’d be in our dungeon making the acquaintance of our torturer, not holding hands with Lady Gamina.’
Gorath glared at the Prince of Krondor. ‘I would tell you no different under hot iron, the lash, or the blade, human!’
Pug asked, ‘Then why do you betray your own, Gorath? Why come to Krondor with a warning when your nations have sought to dislodge humankind from this world as long as either race can remember? Why betray Delekhan to the Kingdom of the Isles? Are you seeking to have our army do what you cannot do by your own might, and destroy an enemy?’
The dark elf studied the magician. Despite his youthful appearance he was a man of great power, and to this point he had spoken to Gorath only in tones and terms of respect. Softly, Gorath said, ‘Delekhan may be a bitter draught to the Kingdom, but he is poison in the throats of our people. He enslaves and conquers, and he seeks to claim greatness, but—’ He took a deep breath.
‘My people are few in number,’ he said slowly. ‘We will never count as many swords and arrows as you humans. We rely upon those who willingly serve us, the goblins, mountain giants, trolls, and renegade men.’ His tone took on a bitter edge. ‘Two sons and a daughter I have mourned, and of two wives, one I have seen travel to join the Mothers and Fathers, while the other left me for being the one to call retreat at Sethanon. My last blood kin died at my own hands the night I met young Owyn.’ He looked directly into Arutha’s eyes. ‘I can never go back, Prince of Krondor. I will die in an alien land among people who despise my race.’
‘Then why?’ asked Arutha.
‘Because my people cannot withstand another war such as we had at Sethanon. Delekhan appears, wearing the dragon helm of Murmandamus, and swords are raised and blood oaths sworn, but while we have courage and dedication in abundance, we lack strength of numbers. Should enough of us die in futility again, the Northlands would lie open to human conquest. We would be as echoes on the wind, for within a hundred years no moredhel would remain alive.’
‘We are content to stay on this side of the Teeth of the World. We have no ambitions in the Northlands,’ said Arutha.
‘You may not, here in your warm castle in Krondor, Prince, but there are those among your race would conquer to win a title, and you know this. If one came to your King with word that he had seized the town of Raglam and had occupied Harlik, and now controlled a third of the Northlands, would your King offer him a hereditary title and income from those lands?’
‘He would,’ admitted Arutha.
‘Then you see my point,’ said Gorath.
Arutha rubbed his chin. He stood lost in thought a long moment, then said, ‘You are persuasive, Gorath. I will take what Makala and Gamina say at face value and assume you have no guile in you. But what now must be decided is if what you know to be true is, indeed, truth.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Gorath.
Pug said, ‘What he means is you may be an unwitting tool. If this Delekhan knew of your animosity, might he not have given you the information you seek to bring to us, to cause us to rush to meet him at some place of his choosing?’ Pug indicated the maps and notes Locklear had brought from the barn at Yellow Mule. ‘There are at least a half-dozen false messages here, to be conveniently found by the Prince’s agents, all stressing attacks at unlikely places, Tannerus, Eggly, Highcastle, even Romney.’
Gorath’s head came up. ‘I have heard that name.’
‘Romney?’ said Arutha. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Only that I have heard Romney mentioned by those who are in service to Delekhan. There are agents working for him in that area.’
‘Would you know them?’
Gorath