At the Gates of Darkness
The conclusion of the bestselling Demon War series, which began with Rides a Dread Legion.Recent events have devastated the Conclave of Shadows; the discovery of the Demon horde on the heels of the taredhel invasion of Midkemia, the threat of the star elves themselves, and the terrible personal cost paid by Pug and his family.But grieving must wait. At a deserted fortress in the Valley of Lost Men, the Conclave’s agents witness horror beyond their imagination, orchestrated by a familiar enemy. But Belasco's motives are as yet unclear. The Conclave must regroup and discover the true meaning behind the chaos seeded by the evil magician if they are ever to find a way to stop the destruction of Triagia before the demon horde even arrives.
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At the Gates of Darkness
The Demonwar Saga Book Two
Raymond E. Feist
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperVoyager
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London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperVoyager 2010
Copyright © Raymond E. Feist 2010
Raymond E. Feist asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007264711
Ebook Edition © NOVEMBER 2009 ISBN: 9780007290215 Version: 2018-10-08
For the ladies who make me look so good: (in alphabetical order) Jennifer Brehl, Emma Coode, Jane Johnson, and Katherine Nitzel; rarely does an author get one good editor, let alone four.
Table of Contents
Chapter Three: Sergeant-Adamant
Chapter Thirteen: Ancient Histories
Chapter Sixteen: Reconnaissance
HOWLS FILLED THE NIGHT.
The blasted hills smoked and the stench of char filled the air. Hundreds of robed figures slowly wended their way between rocky debris to reach the huge clearing below the remains of a fortress gate tower. A powerful man stood silently on top of the pile of stones, looking down upon his followers.
Another figure waited in the shadows, using his considerable skill to remain unseen, and wishing fervently that he was anywhere else in the world but here. James Dasher Jamison took a slow, even breath, as much to calm himself as to catch his breath, and struggled to keep his wits about him. Within the courts of the three largest nations of the region, he was known as a minor noble of the Kingdom of the Isles; a man who had inherited, not earned, his rank, being the grandson of the Duke of Rillanon. To others he was Jim Dasher, a businessman involved in some petty criminal dealings in the city of Krondor; and to a few, he was known as the Upright Man, leader of the Thieves Guild: the Mockers. But even fewer knew James Dasher Jamison as the head of the Kingdom of the Isles intelligent apparatus, reporting directly to his grandfather.
In his forty or so years, Jim had seen many strange and terrifying thingsâexperiences that came with his various positions. At times he feared he had become as heartless a bastard as those he had put down in the name of the Crown, or for the Conclave of Shadows, with whom he often worked; but even his lifetime of violence and intrigue could not have adequately prepared him for what he now saw before him.
A massive fire encompassed a circle of stakes, to which were tied four human sacrifices. They were not the first, already the dead numbered in the dozens, if not hundreds; but what churned Jimâs stomach more than this terrible scene, was that the slain had seemed willing, even eager to embrace a painful, flaming death.
Around the edges of the clearing more victims dangled at the ends of ropes; moments before, Jim had witnessed them place the nooses around their own necks, and jump off small ladders, to hang themselves. Many necks had broken with an audible crack, but a few had died slowly, kicking for what had seemed far too long a time. Jim had seen more than his fair share of public hangings in Krondor, but this was far more horrific than a criminal reaping his just deserts. This was a chilling display of self-sacrifice to evil. The howls lessened as the masochists finally began to lose consciousness and die.
As Jim watched, sickened, another score were impaled on wooden stakes, their blood and faeces filling the air with the unforgettable stench of death. Some of them quivered and twitched as their own weight drove the stakes deeper into their bodies. Others gave out only one death spasm before they hung on the stakes, motionless.
