Flight of the Night Hawks
The whole of the magnificent Riftwar Cycle by bestselling author Raymond E. Feist, master of magic and adventure, now available in ebookThe Conclave of Shadows faces two challenges: finding and destroying the evil magician Leso Varen, and deactivating an army of sinister magical warriors hidden in a cave in Midkemia.They discover the warriors, called Talnoy, are beacons for a vast army of alien invaders, one so formidable that even the combined might of Midkemia and the Tsurani Empire could fall before its fury.Meanwhile, three other agents of the Conclave – Kaspar, Talwin, and Caleb – venture deep into the heart of the Empire of Great Kesh charged with neutralising a threat to the imperial government; a scheme so dark and twisted it implicates even the highest ranking nobles of the Empire and members of the royal family itself.Flight of the Night Hawks carries the reader into the deepest criminal underworld and highest seats of power in ancient Kesh, where the Conclave struggles with the agents of the darkest magic for the fate of the two worlds.Flight of the Night Hawks is book one in the Darkwar trilogy. The second book in the trilogy is Into a Dark realm.
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HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published by HarperVoyager 2005
Copyright © Raymond E. Feist 2005
Cover Illustration © Nik Keevil
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: 9780007133765
Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2012 ISBN: 9780007370191 Version: 2018-12-05
For Andy and Rich,
long overdue thanks for stepping in and being there at the right time
Fate will bring together those a thousand miles apart; without fate, they will miss each other though they come face to face.
Chinese proverb
Contents
Chapter Five: Sorcererâs Isle
Chapter Fourteen: Breakthrough
Chapter Seventeen: Intelligence
Chapter Twenty-One: Anticipation
THE STORM HAD BROKEN.
Pug danced along the edge of the rocks, his feet finding scant purchase as he made his way among the tide pools. His dark eyes darted about as he peered into each pool under the cliff face, seeking the spiny creatures driven into the shallows by the recently passed storm.
His boyish muscles bunched under his light shirt as he shifted the sack of sandcrawlers, rockclaws, and crabs plucked from this water garden. The afternoon sun sent sparkles through the sea spray swirling around him, as the west wind blew his sun-streaked brown hair about. Pug set his sack down, checked to make sure it was securely tied, then squatted on a clear patch of sand. The sack was not quite full, but Pug relished the extra hour or so that he could relax. Megar the cook wouldnât trouble him about the time as long as the sack was almost full. Resting with his back against a large rock, Pug settled in to relax. He opened his eyes suddenly. He had fallen asleep, or at least he knew he had fallen asleep here once ⦠He sat up.
A cool wet spray struck him in the face. Without having closed his eyes, somehow time had passed. Fear rose up within his chest, and he knew he had stayed much too long. Westward, over the sea, dark thunderheads were forming above the black outline of the Six Sisters, the small islands on the horizon. The roiling, surging clouds, with rain trailing below like some sooty veil, heralded another of the sudden storms common to this part of the coast in early summer. The winds drove the clouds with unnatural fury and distant thunder grew louder by the moment.
Pug turned and looked in all directions. Something was terribly wrong. He knew he had been here many times before, but ⦠He had been here before! Not just in this place, but living this very moment!
To the south, the high bluffs of Sailorâs Grief reared up against the sky, as waves crashed against the base of that rocky pinnacle. Whitecaps started to form behind the breakers, a sure sign the storm would quickly strike. Pug knew he was in danger, for the storms of summer could drown anyone on the beaches, or if severe enough, on the low ground beyond. He picked up his sack and started north, towards the castle. As he moved among the pools, he felt the coolness in the wind turn to a deeper, wetter cold. The day began to be broken by a patchwork of shadows as the first clouds passed before the sun, bright colours fading to shades of grey. Out to sea, lightning flashed against the blackness of the clouds, and the boom of on-rushing thunder rode over the noise of the waves. Pug picked up speed when he came to the first stretch of open beach.
The storm was coming in faster than he would have thought possible, driving the rising tide before it. By the time he reached the second stretch of tide pools, there was barely ten feet of dry sand between waterâs edge and cliffs. Pug hurried as fast as was safe across the rocks, twice nearly catching his foot. As he reached the next expanse of sand, he mistimed his jump from the last rock and landed ⦠poorly. He had twisted his ankle!
