The Demon Awakens (61 page)

Juraviel continued to look down upon the black scar that the demon had left upon the ground of his precious home. Indeed, Bestesbulzibar had grown strong to so taint the very land of Andur’Blough Inninness. Juraviel’s Lady had bid him to hold faith, and so he would, but the fear was obvious on his face as he looked from the scar to the north.

“And now we have duties,” Lady Dasslerond went on, speaking more loudly, directing her words at all the elves. “All of us. We have unexpected guests who must be comforted and then taken from our homeland to a place of their own kind, a place of safety—if any place in the world remains safe.” She looked back down at the black scar upon her beautiful valley. “We have much work to do,” she said softly.

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CHAPTER 49

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Hunted

“The terrain grows more wild, Uncle Mather, more fitting to the nature of our enemies. The trees are older, never harvested by humans, and darker. The animals do not fear us, do not respect our weapons or our cunning.”

Elbryan rested back against the diagonal tree root in this impromptu room of Oracle, digesting his own words. They were true enough; in this region so far to the north of any known human settlements, all the world seemed somehow larger and more imposing. The towering mountains that formed the dread Barbacan loomed less than a day’s march away, dominating the northern horizon, making the travelers feel smaller still.

“It brings me mixed feelings,” the ranger went on. “I fear for our safety—will I be able to protect my friends, not necessarily from the threats of our enemy but from the simple truths of survival in this region? And yet, out here, I am somewhat more free than ever, more true to the training the elves have given me. There is no room for error in the far north, no margin of safety, and that keeps me ever vigilant, on my guard, tingling with wariness. I am afraid, and thus, I am alive.”

Again, Elbryan sat back, smiling at the irony of it all. I am afraid, and thus, I am alive.

“If given the opportunity, most people would choose a life of quiet luxury,” he said softly, “would choose to surround themselves with servants, with concubines, even. That is their mistake, for out here, danger ever present, I am ten times more alive than ever they could be. And with the challenge that is Pony—and with the challenge I hope that I pose for her—I am many times more satisfied. It is, I believe, the difference between physical satisfaction and true lovemaking, the difference between release and passion. I may die soon following this course before me, but out here, at one with my spirit and my nature, on the edges of catastrophe, I have lived many times more than most will ever know.

“So I do not regret this journey that fate has laid before me, Uncle Mather, nor do I regret that the others—Bradwarden and Avelyn, Paulson and Chipmunk, and most of all, Pony—have been swept along this course. I pity Belli’mar Juraviel, that he could not see it through, that duty turned his path.”

Elbryan put his chin in his palm, resting, thinking, and staring always at the faint image at the corner of the mirror. It was true, all of it; he hated the death and the suffering, of course, but he could not deny his excitement, and the sense of righteousness, the belief that he was indeed making a difference in the world.

He looked closely at Mather’s image, seeking a smile of approval or a frown that would indicate his feelings were not true but merely a contrived defense against despair. He looked closely, and he saw a shadow beginning to creep in across the glassy surface within the depths of the mirror. The ranger sighed, thinking this a sign of disapproval, thinking that he might have fallen into a trap of justifications, but gradually he came to understand that it was not a cloud emanating from Mather or from his own true feelings. Elbryan began to understand that it was something else, something darker by far.

Elbryan sat bolt upright, unblinking. “Uncle Mather?” he asked breathlessly, a coldness creeping into his very body.

A coldness, a blackness, a living death.

The ranger’s mind was whirling, trying to make sense of the undeniable event. Only one creature could bring such darkness, he realized, and then, suddenly, he understood. Whether Mather had facilitated the warning from the other side of life, or whether it was simply a connection wrought of the magic of Oracle, Elbryan neither knew nor cared. What he did know was that the demon dactyl was searching for him, for them, sending its otherworldly vision out far and wide.

Fear gripped Elbryan as he realized that his own use of Oracle might be helping his enemy locate him and his friends. He leaped up, slamming his head against the roots and ground that formed the cave’s ceiling, and rushed to the mirror, turning it down, breaking all connection. He scrambled for the exit then, pulling down the blanket and wrapping it about the mirror, then crawled out into the waning daylight, calling for Avelyn.

From the flow of molten lava, the demon dactyl pulled its latest creation—a glowing spike, a tapering spear—and held it aloft.

“Fools all.” The beast laughed, eyeing its masterpiece, a weapon that would find and destroy the pitiful humans seeking Aida. Into the spike, the beast sent its vision, the telltale tracings of human-woven magic. Into the spike, the demon sent its power, the strength of the underworld, the strength to burn.

Then the beast called to its elite guards, the armored giants, and to their leader, Togul Dek.

When the brute was before the dark master, Bestesbulzibar held forth the glowing spear.

Togul Dek hesitated, feeling the heat, the intense magical strength.

Bestesbulzibar thrust the nine-foot spike forward and growled a final warning, and Togul Dek, more fearful of the demon than of the fiery implement, grasped it without further hesitation, though the giant winced as his flesh touched the diabolical weapon.

Togul Dek’s expression became one of surprise, for the spike felt cool to the touch.

“Take ten with you,” Bestesbulzibar commanded. “Humans approach my throne. The spear will lead you.”

“Does Bestesbulzibar who is King want any living?” the giant asked, barking each word.

The dactyl scoffed as if the notion were absurd, revealing that he did not think these pitiful few worthy of his time and energy. “Bring me their heads,” he instructed. “You may eat the rest.”

The giant stamped one boot and spun away, collecting its ten closest allies among the elite guard and sweeping out of the throne room.

The dactyl dismissed the remaining guards and moved back to one of the glowing lava rivers, dipping his clawed fingers into the fiery stone, feeling the power of the magic that was his alone to command, musing again about the darkness of his complete rule.

“How could I have been such a fool?” Avelyn lamented, dropping his round head into his plump hands.

“How so?” Pony demanded, realizing they had no time for doubts and blame. Each challenge had to be met without regret for past decisions.

“I should have known that the dactyl would search us out, should have anticipated his magical vision,” Avelyn replied.

“We do not know that the dactyl has searched us out,” Elbryan interjected. “Perhaps the shadow at Oracle was but a warning. We have met with few enemies since our departure, only one organized group that we even know was part of the demon’s army. Why should Bestesbulzibar—”

“Speak not that name aloud so close to the dactyl’s home!” Avelyn warned. “Do not even think it, if you can so discipline your thoughts!”

Elbryan nodded an apology to Avelyn and to all the fearful others. “We do not know that it is too late,” the ranger said softly.

“Ye put up the guard, then?” Bradwarden asked.

Avelyn nodded. Using the sunstone he had taken from Quintall, he had enacted a shield against divining magic. It was not a difficult enchantment, actually, and one that powerful Avelyn could maintain with the focused sunstone for a very long time without severely taxing his energies for other magics.

It was one that Avelyn should have enacted, he now realized, even as they set out from the region of Dundalis.

“Stupid!” Paulson grumbled, eyeing the monk dangerously, and then he stormed away.

Elbryan was quick to follow, catching up to the man, grabbing him by the elbow, and leading him farther from the camp behind a shielding wall of evergreens where they could speak in private.

“You did not mention that we should enact such a protective shield,” the ranger pointed out.

“I ain’t no wizard,” Paulson argued. “I didn’t even know about such a thing.”

“Then it is good that we have Avelyn with us, who can block the demon’s sight.”

“If the damned demon ain’t upon us even now,” Paulson retorted, and he glanced about nervously as he spoke the grim words.

“I’ll not tolerate any placement of blame on this journey,” Elbryan said sternly.

Paulson stared at him long and hard, finally relenting under the ranger’s unblinking stare. Instead of growing defensive, as was his nature, the big man tried hard to see things from Elbryan’s perspective. Finally, he nodded. “It’s good that Avelyn is with us,” he said sincerely.

“We’ll get there,” Elbryan promised, and started away.

“Hey, ranger,” Paulson called after Elbryan had gone a few steps. Elbryan turned to regard the man, noting his grin.

“We’ll get there, eh?” Paulson cracked. “Ye sure that’s a good thing?”

“I am sure it is not,” Elbryan replied, matching the big man’s grin.

From the edge of a high, rocky bluff, crouched defensively behind the stone, the companions watched the latest caravan wind its way out of the Barbacan. Goblins comprised the bulk of the line, trudging with heads down, looking thoroughly miserable, especially those chained to the various powrie war engines—catapults, ballistae, and great corkscrew boring machines meant to drive huge holes in castle walls.

The caravan went on and on, exiting a pass in the dark mountain wall and forming a line that went out of the companions’ sight to the east.

“Alpinador, too, is under siege,” Elbryan reasoned.

“The dactyl will use the summer months to drive right to the coast, no doubt where more powries await his armies,” Avelyn added, and then, considering his own words, he snorted loudly. “Unless of course the demon’s soldiers have already driven to the coast. Ho, ho, what!”

“Then no time for wasting,” remarked Bradwarden, a few feet away, behind the others on a lower point. The centaur obviously could not climb up the stone and crouch, and so he had spent the last half hour waiting rather impatiently, listening to descriptions of the exotic powrie war machines and to Paulson’s unending giant count.

“We have to wait for Pony,” Elbryan reminded the anxious centaur.

“Then wait no more,” came a voice from ahead, and the group turned as one to see the woman moving lightly down the trail.

“There are several passes that will get us through,” she explained. “This trail branches a quarter mile from here; the left road winds back down and out of the range, but the right climbs higher and into the mountains, which are not so deep.”

“Is there cover?” Elbryan asked.

Pony shrugged. “As much as we can hope for,” she replied. “Boulders line the trail on both sides, but if our enemy has guards posted in proper position, they will likely spot us.”

“Then we must spot them first,” Elbryan said determinedly, taking up Hawkwing. He sent Chipmunk off and running, flanking them to the left, bade Pony guard the right, and he, himself, moved in front of Avelyn, Paulson, and Bradwarden, taking a long lead.

Within an hour’s time, they had climbed high across the southern face of the dark mountain, to the edge of the tree line, where the wind blew chill. Elbryan, far in the lead and out of sight of the others, left markers showing his course, but even with this, the ranger was fearful that they would all get separated and lost. The Barbacan was a wild place, as untamed as any land the ranger had ever seen; a place of huge, rocky outcroppings, jagged stones, and thick copses of dark trees. It was a place where a trail ended abruptly in a hundred-foot drop, or a boulder might come suddenly down upon an unwary traveler’s head. A place of the most primal danger, it was a place where the ranger felt most alive.

A slight noise to his right put Elbryan into a crouch, his hand going from his bow to his sword. He slipped to shelter behind a stone, then dropped flat on his belly, peeking out around the edge at a small ravine, a cut in the mountain filled with trees and brush.

The noise came again, soft footsteps, and Elbryan followed it to its source, just a shadow moving gracefully through the tangle. He took up Hawkwing again, his eyes never leaving the target.

And then he relaxed as the shadow moved through a clear area. “Pony,” he called softly, catching her attention. He noted the stealthy manner in which she approached, and that kept him on his guard.

“Goblin,” she whispered from a short distance, not daring to cross the last clearing to come beside Elbryan, “high and to the left beyond the twin pines and behind the jutting stone.”

Elbryan scanned in that direction, but had to move out from his rock even to spot the jutting stone. He nodded as the place, though not the goblin, came into view.

“How many?”

“I saw but one,” Pony answered. “There could be more, further to the left and down.”

Elbryan glanced back along the trail. He had moved from shadow to shadow, and it was unlikely that the goblin had spotted him from that distance, but Avelyn, and particularly Bradwarden, would have trouble being inconspicuous. By the ranger’s calculations, the trailing trio would soon be well within the goblin’s view.

He noted a movement up above, a dark shape coming atop the jutting rock. Torn and uncertain, the ranger fitted an arrow to Hawkwing. “If there are more, they’ll soon know of us,” he whispered.

“Perhaps I can get behind the spot,” Pony replied.

Elbryan started to ponder that possibility, then noted the goblin’s attention was occupied—by something back along Elbryan’s path.

“It knows of us,” the ranger explained, and up came his bow. The shot was fully a hundred yards, and he had no more of a target than the goblin’s head and shoulders, and in the crosswinds of a mountain face. His arrow hit the mark right down the middle, and the dark form fell away.

There came a cry and a second shape darted out from behind the boulder, scrambling away.

“We are known!” the ranger called to Pony and the pair jumped up and started in pursuit, though they had little hope of catching a creature in this wild tangle. Just a few steps away, though, they skidded to a sudden stop, seeing the goblin coming back, staggering out of a copse and across an expanse of bare rock.

They watched curiously as the monster jerked suddenly, then fell over, and a moment later, Chipmunk appeared from the brush behind the creature, scampering up to retrieve his daggers.