The Serpentwar Saga. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ like ragpickers, while others will look like princes. I want no squabbling over who takes what. The weapons are more important than the finery. Leave your Kingdom-made weapons here, and take what’s under the canvas …’

      Roo whispered, ‘Wish they’d told us we wouldn’t need all this armor before we lugged it up the cliff!’

      Calis continued, ‘Remember, this is mummery, nothing more. Booty isn’t our objective.’

      The men gathered closer, for Calis rarely addressed them and they were still not privy to much of what lay before them. ‘You know what you’ve been told,’ he continued. ‘Now you will know the rest. In ancient times a race was created, the serpent men of Pantathia.’ Instead of the usual muttering, the men were rapt and silent, for they knew their lives depended upon knowing as much about this mission as possible. ‘This race has lore as ancient as the Chaos Wars. They think their destiny is to rule this world, destroying all else who abide here.’ Looking around at the men, as if memorizing their faces, the young-looking elf-kin said, ‘They have the means, I think. Or at least it’s our task to discover if they have the means.

      ‘We came here twelve years ago, some of us.’ He nodded to a knot of soldiers from the last campaign. ‘We thought in simpler terms then: we would lend our weight to the struggle and turn back conquerors. We now know better.’ All the surviving soldiers of the first campaign against the Pantathians nodded in agreement. ‘Whatever these creatures plan, it is more than simple land-grabbing or raiding for booty. Twenty years ago they came against a small city on the far side of this continent, Irabek, and since then, any land they take falls behind a curtain of death and fire. We have no word from any place they have conquered. Those of us who faced them on the walls of Hamsa know what they are. Mercenary companies such as we pretend to be lead the wave, but behind them are fanatic soldiers. There are human officers and cadres of well-drilled fighting men, but more: there are also serpents who ride horses twenty-five hands high.’

      Erik blinked at this. The largest war-horse he had seen in Baron Otto’s cavalry was nineteen hands. He’d heard of some being twenty hands, used by the Krondor Heavy Lancers, but twenty-five hands? That was nearly eight and a half feet at the withers. Not even the biggest Shire horse he’d seen came close to that.

      ‘We’ve not seen these creatures,’ continued Calis, ‘but we have reliable reports. And behind these creatures come the priests themselves.

      ‘Some men, we are told, are rewarded by being placed high within this company of well-drilled fightingmen. But all of them are willing servants of those who seek to dominate this land.

      ‘Our mission is simple. We must get as close to the heart of this army of conquest and discover as much about it as we may. Then, when we have learned all we can, we must flee to the City of the Serpent River, and from there home, so that Prince Nicholas can prepare for the coming invasion.’

      There was a moment of silence; then Biggo said, ‘So that’s all we need do, and then we can go home?’

      Suddenly there was laughter. Erik found he couldn’t hold it in. Roo looked at him, seemed to struggle to hold in his own guffaw, then abruptly was laughing as well.

      Calis let the mirth go on for a moment before he held up his hands for silence. ‘Many will not return. But those of you who do will have earned your freedom and the praise of your King. And if we can defeat these murderous snakes, you may have the opportunity to live out that life as you choose. Now, get equipped. We have a long march across a difficult desert before we meet with friends.’

      The men fell upon the arms and clothing like children on gifts at the Midwinter Feast, and soon comments and friendly insults were flying.

      Erik found a faded but serviceable blue tunic, over which he strapped on a breastplate of alien design, with a worn and faded lion’s head embossed on it. A simple round shield, a long dagger in his belt, and a well-made longsword filled his needs. As men tried on various items and discarded them, a conical helm with a nasal bar rolled to his feet. He bent to pick it up, and a chain neck guard fell out. He tried it on. It fit comfortably, so he kept it.

      As the men made ready, the mood turned somber. Calis saw they were finished and held up his hands. ‘You are now Calis’s Crimson Eagles. If anyone recognizes that name, you’re men from the Sunset Islands. Those of you who served before can tell the others what they need to know about the Eagles if they’re asked. We are the fiercest fighters in the Kingdom, and we fear no man or demon. We got our backsides booted when last we came this way, but that was twelve years ago, and I doubt there’s one man in a thousand alive who remembers. So, form companies – we’re mercenaries, but we’re not rabble – and check your rations. Each man’s to carry three full waterskins. We’re marching at night and sleeping during the day. Follow instructions and you’ll live to see water again.’

      As the sun sank Foster and de Loungville got the men ranked into companies. Calis faced west, toward an angry sun, and led them into the heat.

      Erik had never been so hot, tired, and thirsty in his life. The back of his neck itched, yet he couldn’t spare the energy to reach up and scratch it. The first night had seemed relatively easy. The air had plunged from hot to brisk within hours, and as sunrise approached, it was cold. Yet even then it had been a very dry cold, and the thirst had begun. As instructed, they drank only when permitted by Foster and de Loungville, a mouthful every hour.

      Near sunrise, they were ordered to make camp, and quickly had small tents erected, each large enough to shade six men. They quickly fell asleep.

      Hours later, Erik awoke with a start, as the breath in his lungs seemed barely to hold enough air to keep him alive. He gasped and was rewarded with a dry lungful that was close to painful. Opening his eyes, he saw waves in the air as heat shimmer rose off the hardpan. Other men moved and tried to get comfortable in the heat. A couple had left the small tents, thinking the heat outside might somehow be less than the heat radiating through the canvas, and quickly they returned to the tiny shelter. As if reading minds, Foster’s voice had cut through the air, warning any man caught drinking would be flogged.

      The second night had been arduous, and the second day terrible. Now there was no rest in lying in the heat, only less energy expended than attempting to move. The night offered no relief, as the cold dry air sucked moisture from the men seemingly as quickly as the day’s heat.

      They marched on.

      Foster and de Loungville were careful not to lose sight of each company, ensuring that no one at the rear stumbled and was left behind. Erik knew they were also ensuring that no one dropped any vital piece of equipment because they were fatigued.

      Now it was the third day and Erik despaired of ever seeing water and shade again. Adding to the cruelty of the trek was the rising terrain before them. It had begun gently enough, but now it felt as if they were walking uphill.

      Ahead, Calis stopped, but motioned for the others to come up to him. When they reached the crest of the rise, Erik could see that they had reached grasslands, and that from the crest downward, rolling hills of green led to a scattering of copses where broad branched trees offered shelter. In the distance, a line of trees meandered across the countryside, and it was there Calis pointed. ‘The Serpent River. You can drink your fill now.’

      Erik pulled up his last waterskin and drained it, finding it was almost empty. He was surprised; he had thought he had more water left, as he hadn’t been allowed to drink enough to drain three skins.

      Calis looked to de Loungville and said, ‘That was pretty easy.’

      Erik glanced at Roo, who shook his СКАЧАТЬ