Wrath of a Mad God Read online

  “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 sea-men, 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 2 7

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  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 outcropping 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 outcropping 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 be-2 8

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  gan 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 among the under-growth 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 spellcaster 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.”

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  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 looked around, surveying the area.

  The hair on the back of Jommy’s neck stood up as it seemed to lock gazes with him. The figure began to resolve itself into a manlike form, easily seven feet tall. Its shoulders were impossibly broad, and it appeared to have no neck. The creature’s

  “skin,” dark grey-blue without any apparent blemish, rippled and pulsed, as if air flowed under a silk cloth, and the face was featureless, save for two red flames where eyes should be. The skin hardened and began to look like black rock.

  “Now, Captain,” said Kaspar softly.

  Captain Stefan stood up, holding a white cloth in his left hand, and made a single chopping motion.

  Chaos erupted.

  From the ridge behind them shouts rang out, while arrows arched through the air to strike several of the men on the beach.

  Instantly three things occurred, as Jommy drew his sword. The men on the beach fanned out in precise order, not panicking, keeping their wits about them, and seeking cover wherever pos-3 0

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  sible—behind the bulwarks of the boats, ridges of sand, and some large piles of driftwood. Several bowmen on the beach returned fire, but they were shooting blindly into the thicket on the hillside while those above had clear targets on the sand.

  Men raced past Jommy’s position, soldiers wearing Keshian and Kingdom tabards, and Jommy leaped to his feet, shouting,

  “Come on, Jim!”

  The conjured creature roared. It stood defiantly, arms out a
nd down as if expecting to charge or be charged, and the men approaching could feel waves of heat coming from it as the volume of smoke rising from its black-rock skin increased.

  Men faltered as they raced toward it, while those waiting for the onslaught were emboldened. Jommy half ran, half fell down the hillside, passing several soldiers who were brought to a halt by the demonic being’s outcry. Suddenly he realized he was passing the vanguard and in front of him waited weapons poised to cut him down, plus some creature from an impossible nightmare.

  Jommy started to back away, but one of the raiders charged him, ignoring arrows that were still raining down from the hillside. The raider took a step forward then was impaled by a long shaft which knocked him backward. Jommy crouched, waiting for the others to catch up. He glanced backward, and saw the soldiers were either motionless or retreating.

  He understood why a moment later. The conjured creature was growing! The thing was now a good two feet taller than it had been before and much broader across what Jommy considered to be its shoulders. The arms appeared brawnier, and decorated with what seemed to be burning metal bands, twisting rods of some hot metal that gave off so much heat that Jommy could feel it through the rain. Cracks in the rocky “skin” now appeared and from them tiny flames issued.

  “Jim!” shouted Jommy. “Let’s get out of . . .” He glanced around and realized Jim Dasher was nowhere in sight. “Damn,”

  muttered Jommy as he quickly backed away. “He’s either a coward or a lot smarter than I am!”

  A pirate raced at Jommy and swung a vicious overhead 3 1

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  blow with a weighted cutlass, a blow that was likely to either break Jommy’s blade or cleave him from shoulder to stomach.

  Training and experience lent the young man the reflex to knock the blade to the right while dodging to the left, avoiding most of the force. The sand on the beach was terrible footing, so Jommy ignored the impulse to spin and slice the man’s spine, instead electing to throw a right elbow at his jaw. Pain shot up his arm to his shoulder as he connected, and the man’s eyes glazed over.

  Stepping back, Jommy slashed sideways with his blade, slicing the man’s neck. As blood spurted upward, Jommy continued to back away, unable to take his eyes off the horror that rose up before him.

  Kaspar’s voice cut through the air: “Hit them hard; now!”

  The soldiers were well trained, and despite their growing sense of dread as the conjured being rose up to a height of nearly nine feet, they charged. Those on the beach were dedicated, fanatics even, but they were not trained soldiers, and suddenly the left side of their defense collapsed.

  With nowhere to retreat, they fought viciously, but within seconds the soldiers of Kaspar’s command had killed half a dozen and had the rest retreating through the water to the scant protection offered by beached boats. Jommy faced a more determined defense, as soldiers from the Kingdom, Roldem, and Kesh joined him in attacking the middle, mere yards away from the creature.

  The raiders fought like men possessed, as if they were more afraid to retreat back to where the smoldering creature waited than die facing mortal men. Then the creature strode forward, and the man next to Jommy howled in agony as the diabolical being snatched him up by the neck. The sound of searing meat replaced the choked-off cry and the apparition tossed the soldier aside like a broken toy. Jommy saw flame coming from the creature’s hands and could feel heat waves emanating from it as its appearance continued to evolve. The grey-blue skin was now crisscrossed with glowing red cracks, looking like nothing so much as molten metal under a rock crust, and where rain struck it sizzled and gave off tiny explosions of steam.

  Jommy leaped backward, almost falling as he crashed into 3 2

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  a soldier coming up behind him. “Sir!” the man shouted in his ear. “Another two boats have put in to the north and more of the bastards are coming down on our right flank.”

  Jommy hesitated, then realized the soldier must be waiting, and that he was a senior officer, or at least as far as the men near him were concerned. Something had to be done to avoid a total rout. “On me!” he shouted. “Rally to me!”

  Men hurried to him while the now-flaming monster snagged another screaming man and ripped his arm off while his torso was engulfed in fire. “Form circle!” shouted Jommy, and the men nearby gathered in a tight knot around him. To the soldier who had warned him of the move on their flank, he shouted,

  “Find the General, and tell the others to fall back to wherever he is. We’ll hold them here! Go!”

  The messenger ran off.

  “Shield wall!” was Jommy’s next command, and the trained soldiers linked shields and suddenly he and two others, both irregulars from Krondor, stood in a tiny fortress of shields.

  He had no faith in his order. Jommy knew that should the advancing monster strike the front of the shield wall, several of them would be instantly incinerated and the defensive position would collapse. But it was the only thing he could think of doing to buy a few minutes for the rest of the men to fall back to wherever Kaspar waited.

  The creature stood motionless for a moment, and the magic-user pointed at the men clustered around Jommy with his staff and shouted something in the alien tongue. The creature took a great stride toward them and Jommy shouted, “Steady!”

  The creature halted for a moment, and raised his fist up high above them. Jommy shouted, “Turtle!” He dropped his sword and sat down hard, yanking the two men next to him down to keep them from injury.

  The men raised their shields overhead, and braced themselves as they would for a barrage of falling arrows. The flaming monster’s fist, now the size of an anvil, crashed down on a pair of shields, causing one man to go to his knees and the other to collapse completely.

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  “Bloody hell!” said one of the irregulars, his eyes wide with terror.

  “Scatter!” shouted Jommy: confusion was the only way to save as many men as possible. The two irregulars crawled away, while the soldiers did as they had been trained, each man running off directly away from the center of the turtle, putting as much space as possible between themselves and their comrades. Those in the front fell straight back, then turned and fled.

  Kaspar’s own archers had attempted to hurt the creature, but their arrows were having no effect, the iron heads bouncing off the thing’s hide while the shafts burst into flame. Waves of heat rolled over Jommy, as if he were standing before an open oven.

  With a sweep of arms now as long as a spear, the creature knocked men aside as if he were playing with children. Whatever he touched burst into flames: men lay screaming and dying.

  As Jommy pulled back, the creature seemed to notice him, and started toward him. Jommy braced himself, sure that in an instant he would be either crushed or burned to death. As he raised his sword to defend himself he saw beyond the creature a figure rising out of the surf. Water dripping off his face, his clothing soaked through, Jim Dasher seemed to appear out of nowhere as he came up from a low crouch to stand behind the magician. With a deft move so fast Jommy could barely follow it, the Krondorian thief raised his hands before him, crossed at the wrist, and flipped something over the magician’s head. Suddenly the spell caster was yanked backward as Jim brought his knee up into the magician’s spine, and even with the pounding of the surf, the tattoo of the rain, and the screams from dying men Jommy could hear the snap of the man’s spine. Blood sprayed from the magician’s neck and he waved his arms for a brief instant before going limp.

  As the magician died, the creature faltered, and then stopped and looked around as if waiting to be told what to do next. He howled, an echoing sound that grated on the ears and sent shivers through Jommy’s body. Then the monster lashed out, first one way, then another. Men scattered, even those wearing the black 3 4

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  headcloths more intent on putting space between themselves and the
apparition than in continuing the fight. Jommy threw himself backward, avoiding a sudden reversal of direction by the flaming creature, and rolled on the sand, coming to his feet in a crouch, his sword ready.

  Then he saw Servan running in his direction, shouting something that Jommy couldn’t make out, but pointing directly at him. At the same instant Jommy sensed someone behind him and realized that Servan wasn’t pointing at him, but at something behind him. He fell to his left, rolled and turned, seeing the blade cut through the air that would have taken his head had Servan not warned him.

  Jommy didn’t even think of trying to stand, but instead lashed out with his sword, cutting the man across the heel, severing the tendon. The man screamed and almost fell on top of Jommy. Jommy now shoved his sword point into the raider’s armpit. Blood flowed down the man’s side as the raider tried to retaliate with a looping blow designed to take Jommy’s arm off.

  Jommy rolled again, hearing the sword strike sand. Now he was on his back. Knowing this was as poor a position for a fight as could be, Jommy kept rolling until he could again see his opponent. Then someone stepped over him and a sword point thrust down, ending the raider’s life.

  Servan reached down and pulled Jommy to his feet.

  “We’ve got to fall back!” shouted the young nobleman. “That thing is still killing anything near it, and it’s getting hotter by the minute.”

  Jommy didn’t need his companion to tell him that; he could feel waves of heat rolling off the creature. Steam exploded from every step it took in the wet sand. Men on all sides were still locked in struggle, but there was nothing remotely organized about the conflict, and Jommy knew there was no way to coordinate any sort of counterattack or even organize an orderly withdrawal. “We need to have everyone fall back to that big rock over there!” Jommy shouted, pointing with his sword.

  Servan nodded. “I don’t know where the General or the Captain are.”

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