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Authors: Raymond E. Feist
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said, ‘‘What?’’
‘‘They knew we were coming!’’ said Gorath.
44
KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL
Owyn said, ‘‘Somehow they got word south?’’
Gorath put up his sword. ‘‘Nago.’’
‘‘What?’’ asked Locklear.
‘‘Not what, who, ’’ said Gorath. ‘‘Nago. He’s one of Delekhan’s sorcerers. He and his brother Narab served the murderer.
They are powerful chieftains in their own right, but right now they’re doing Delekhan’s bidding. Without their help, Delekhan never would have risen to power and overthrown the chieftains of the other clans. Without their help, these‘‘—his hand swept in a circle, indicating the dead moredhel—’’would not be here waiting.’’ He knelt next to one of the dead, and said, ‘‘This was my cousin, my kinsman.’’ He pointed to another one. ‘‘That one is from a clan that has been sworn enemy to mine for generations. That they are both serving this monster hints at his power.’’
Locklear indicated his shoulder and sank to the ground.
Owyn examined it, and explained, ‘‘I can get the head out, but it’s going to hurt.’’
Locklear said, ‘‘It already hurts. Get on with it.’’
While Owyn ministered to Locklear, Gorath said, ‘‘Nago and Narab both have the power of mindspeech. Especially with one another. Those we killed on the road to your town of Loriel, or another who spied us, must have passed word to one of the brothers. He in turn alerted these as to our whereabouts.’’
Locklear said, ‘‘So the chances are good that before they died, one of these also let Nago know we are here?’’
‘‘Almost certainly.’’
‘‘Wonderful,’’ said Locklear through gritted teeth, as Owyn used his dagger to cut out the arrowhead. His eyes teared, and his vision swam again for a moment, but by breathing slowly and deeply he kept conscious.
Owyn dusted the wound with a pack of herbs from his belt pouch, then placed a cloth over it. ‘‘Hold this here; press hard,’’ he instructed. He went to the nearest body and robbed it of a strip of cloth, cut away with his dagger, then returned to bind it tightly around Locklear’s shoulder. ‘‘Between that wound to your ribs and this shoulder, your left arm is close to useless, Squire.’’
45
Raymond E. Feist
‘‘Just what I wanted to hear,’’ said Locklear as he tried to move his left arm and found Owyn’s observation correct. He could move it scant inches before pain made him stop the attempt. ‘‘Horses?’’
‘‘They’ve run off,’’ said Owyn.
‘‘Wonderful,’’ said Locklear. ‘‘I was knocked out of the saddle, what’s your excuse?’’ he demanded of the other two.
Gorath said, ‘‘Fighting on the back of the beast was too awkward.’’
Owyn said, ‘‘I can’t cast a spell from the saddle. Sorry.’’
Locklear stood. ‘‘So we walk.’’
‘‘How far is it to Hawk’s Hollow?’’ asked Owyn.
‘‘Too far,’’ said Locklear. ‘‘If they’re waiting for us, much too far.’’
46
Three
•
Revelation
T HE SENTRY BLINKED IN SURPRISE.
One moment the approach to the town was empty, the next three figures were standing before him. ‘‘What?’’ he exclaimed, bringing his old spear to something resembling a stance of readiness.
‘‘Easy, friend,’’ said Locklear. He leaned upon Owyn’s shoulder and looked as if he was close to death. They had encountered three more ambushes between the one where their horses had fled and Hawk’s Hollow. They had managed to avoid the first two, sneaking around human bandits. The last had been a squad of six moredhel who had been too alert. The fight had been bloody and costly. Gorath was wounded, a nasty cut to his left shoulder that Owyn had barely been able to staunch. Locklear had been injured again, nearly dying if not for Owyn’s intervention, and the young magician himself was sporting a half dozen minor wounds.
‘‘Who are you?’’ asked the confused
‘‘They knew we were coming!’’ said Gorath.
44
KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL
Owyn said, ‘‘Somehow they got word south?’’
Gorath put up his sword. ‘‘Nago.’’
‘‘What?’’ asked Locklear.
‘‘Not what, who, ’’ said Gorath. ‘‘Nago. He’s one of Delekhan’s sorcerers. He and his brother Narab served the murderer.
They are powerful chieftains in their own right, but right now they’re doing Delekhan’s bidding. Without their help, Delekhan never would have risen to power and overthrown the chieftains of the other clans. Without their help, these‘‘—his hand swept in a circle, indicating the dead moredhel—’’would not be here waiting.’’ He knelt next to one of the dead, and said, ‘‘This was my cousin, my kinsman.’’ He pointed to another one. ‘‘That one is from a clan that has been sworn enemy to mine for generations. That they are both serving this monster hints at his power.’’
Locklear indicated his shoulder and sank to the ground.
Owyn examined it, and explained, ‘‘I can get the head out, but it’s going to hurt.’’
Locklear said, ‘‘It already hurts. Get on with it.’’
While Owyn ministered to Locklear, Gorath said, ‘‘Nago and Narab both have the power of mindspeech. Especially with one another. Those we killed on the road to your town of Loriel, or another who spied us, must have passed word to one of the brothers. He in turn alerted these as to our whereabouts.’’
Locklear said, ‘‘So the chances are good that before they died, one of these also let Nago know we are here?’’
‘‘Almost certainly.’’
‘‘Wonderful,’’ said Locklear through gritted teeth, as Owyn used his dagger to cut out the arrowhead. His eyes teared, and his vision swam again for a moment, but by breathing slowly and deeply he kept conscious.
Owyn dusted the wound with a pack of herbs from his belt pouch, then placed a cloth over it. ‘‘Hold this here; press hard,’’ he instructed. He went to the nearest body and robbed it of a strip of cloth, cut away with his dagger, then returned to bind it tightly around Locklear’s shoulder. ‘‘Between that wound to your ribs and this shoulder, your left arm is close to useless, Squire.’’
45
Raymond E. Feist
‘‘Just what I wanted to hear,’’ said Locklear as he tried to move his left arm and found Owyn’s observation correct. He could move it scant inches before pain made him stop the attempt. ‘‘Horses?’’
‘‘They’ve run off,’’ said Owyn.
‘‘Wonderful,’’ said Locklear. ‘‘I was knocked out of the saddle, what’s your excuse?’’ he demanded of the other two.
Gorath said, ‘‘Fighting on the back of the beast was too awkward.’’
Owyn said, ‘‘I can’t cast a spell from the saddle. Sorry.’’
Locklear stood. ‘‘So we walk.’’
‘‘How far is it to Hawk’s Hollow?’’ asked Owyn.
‘‘Too far,’’ said Locklear. ‘‘If they’re waiting for us, much too far.’’
46
Three
•
Revelation
T HE SENTRY BLINKED IN SURPRISE.
One moment the approach to the town was empty, the next three figures were standing before him. ‘‘What?’’ he exclaimed, bringing his old spear to something resembling a stance of readiness.
‘‘Easy, friend,’’ said Locklear. He leaned upon Owyn’s shoulder and looked as if he was close to death. They had encountered three more ambushes between the one where their horses had fled and Hawk’s Hollow. They had managed to avoid the first two, sneaking around human bandits. The last had been a squad of six moredhel who had been too alert. The fight had been bloody and costly. Gorath was wounded, a nasty cut to his left shoulder that Owyn had barely been able to staunch. Locklear had been injured again, nearly dying if not for Owyn’s intervention, and the young magician himself was sporting a half dozen minor wounds.
‘‘Who are you?’’ asked the confused
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