The Demon Awakens (63 page)

He planted his feet as he landed and rushed straight ahead, screaming wildly, his sword now glowing a furious bluish-white, snapping to and fro, darting straight ahead, sparking as it banged against unyielding armor.

But the ranger’s tactic worked, the sudden rush forcing the giants into a short retreat, forcing them off balance. One went down over a fallen body, reaching out as it fell to grab its companion. Another short hop and attack by Elbryan had that one tumbling, too, both landing in a tangled heap.

The ranger had no intention of jumping atop them, not with other giants bearing in. He turned and ran as Pony ran, catching up to Pony as they scrambled together up the north slope, following the trail of their friends. Over the lip, they saw the effects of Avelyn’s fireball, small fires here and there, the largest being the one still burning atop the curled and blackened corpse of yet another giant. Down the pair ran through the heat and the smoke, stumbling, but using each other for support. They heard the roars behind them, knew that to stop was to die.

Into the night, the four survivors went, stumbling blindly, separated, two and two, with a third of their party dead.

>
CHAPTER 50

>
Flight

Avelyn lay across the centaur’s back, staring more behind than ahead, praying for his companions.

Bradwarden, though, would not turn back and would not slow. Determined, purposeful, the centaur pounded along the mountain trails, hooves digging firm holds and propelling him and his all-important passenger mightily. Soon after they had left the encampment, Avelyn had looped the cat’s eye about Bradwarden’s head, and so the centaur could see in the dark and was not slowed as were the pursuing giants—as were their own companions.

“We must find a defensible spot!” the monk kept shouting.

“We’ll not be stopping!” the centaur finally answered and, as if to accentuate that point, Bradwarden lowered his human torso forward and gained speed.

“A defensible spot!” Avelyn insisted. “To await Elbryan and Jilseponie, to bring them in to our side and together ward off the giants!”

“No giant’ll be catching us,” the centaur assured him. “Nor will Elbryan and Pony, though I lament their loss.”

“They are not dead!” the monk insisted.

“No,” agreed Bradwarden. “Resourceful, the both o’ them. Not dead, but not for catching us, and when ye kill the dactyl, we’ll come back out and find them both, I’m not doubting!”

Avelyn, dumbfounded, had no answers. He could hardly believe that Bradwarden would so leave their friends behind, deserting the pair in so perilous a situation. Avelyn came to understand then just how determined the centaur was, just how determined all his companions were, that he was the hope, that he alone might do battle with the dactyl and win. Avelyn believed, and had spoken it openly and often, that it was his destiny to meet with the hellish creature; and so his friends meant to get him there, and if all of them perished in the process then by their thinking, at least—so be it.

A great weight fell over the monk as he came to that realization, a responsibility beyond anything Avelyn Desbris had ever known: greater even than his eight-year dedication that had gotten him into St.-Mere-Abelle, to the fulfillment of his dearest mother’s lifelong desire; greater even than the task assigned him by the Church, and by God, to go to Pimaninicuit and prepare this latest generation of gemstones. Avelyn had been ready to argue with Bradwarden, to insist, even if it meant dropping from the centaur’s back, or using some magic against Bradwarden, that they stop and wait for their friends. But now the sobered monk remained silent and uncomplaining. Bradwarden meant to deliver him, and so Avelyn must be delivered.

Or all the deaths would be for naught.

They came through the pass of the great Barbacan with night still thick about them, having put many miles behind them in a furious rush. Bradwarden, clearly exhausted, would not think of stopping, though he was glad when Avelyn announced that he would walk and not ride for a time.

Overlooking the valley within the mountain ring, the pair were overwhelmed—particularly Bradwarden, who had not viewed the great encampment before. Thousands of campfires dotted the dark plain below them, thousands and thousands.

And beyond the masses loomed a single dark silhouette, a conical mountain tipped by a steady stream of dark smoke.

Aida.

“The dactyl’s home,” Avelyn whispered to the centaur, and Bradwarden needed no clarification, for both of them were staring squarely at the ominous mountain.

“We can get down and about the camp,” Bradwarden said a few moments later, after pausing to inspect the layout. The centaur pointed to the left, to one of the great black arms running down from the lone mountain, nearly to the base of the mountains Bradwarden and Avelyn had just come through. “Though we’re looking at a full day o’ walking,” the centaur finished.

“Out in the daylight near that swarm?” Avelyn asked doubtfully.

“Not a choice,” Bradwarden replied. “We’ll get behind the mountain arm and hope our enemy has not an army on the other side of it.”

Avelyn nodded and silently followed the indomitable centaur, denying his obvious exhaustion.

They were scrambling in the right direction, Elbryan knew, following their friends, though they certainly were not gaining any ground. Every so often, the pair crossed a low spot, a muddy puddle, and Elbryan spotted the deep tracks of Bradwarden. Widespread tracks, he noted hopefully; the centaur was in full run.

That was what Elbryan and Pony wanted. Duty told them that they must follow, but their higher purpose reminded them that all that mattered was the delivery of Avelyn. “Run on, Bradwarden,” Elbryan muttered more than once, and always Pony nodded her agreement.

Elbryan was surprised at how easy the mountain trails were to navigate, even in the dark. The Barbacan was an imposing range of tall rocky mountains, capped in snow year-round with many sheer cliffs, some with drops of two or even three thousand feet. But in this particular region, with the trail cutting between two such peaks and thus bringing the climbers nowhere near the top, the going remained steady and fairly easy. The ranger believed that they might see the other side, the slope down to the valley beyond, before the dawn. Avelyn had described the general layout to them all, had told of the valley and of the lone mountain that maps named Aida. In that description, the monk had noted often and hopefully that the barrier mountain range, though tall and ominous, was not wide.

So it was with some hope that Elbryan and Pony ran on, and though they could not possibly match the pace of the galloping centaur, they found many occasions when they could cross over a blocking outcropping of stone that Bradwarden would have had to circumvent. Perhaps with the dawn, they would sight their friends again and would be able to link up.

Even the pursuit seemed left behind, the fumbling giants not keeping pace. Elbryan’s one fear, though, was that the behemoths knew the region and thus knew a quicker way.

That fear came to fruition when Elbryan and Pony entered one long narrow pass, a jumble of boulders and scraggly trees sheltered from the strong winds, but, the pair both silently noted, without any obvious escape routes. Halfway along the trail through the gully, an ominous and familiar orange glow appeared—
ahead
of the pair.

Out stepped the giant, Togul Dek, still wearing no helm, its huge features twisted with rage. Roaring at the two humans—and all the louder when Elbryan banged an arrow off its tremendous breastplate—the behemoth jabbed its glowing spike first into the tree at its left, then in the one at its right, sending both up instantly as towering candles. Between the trees stepped the brute, outlined by fire, not bothered by fire; and Elbryan and Pony noted the dark silhouettes of another pair of giants behind it.

“Take him head-on,” the ranger instructed, and he dove to the muddy ground, wrapping his cloak tightly about him. He came up in a dash, to the side and not straight ahead, and Pony, trusting him, charged out from his wake, waving her sword menacingly, drawing the spike wielder’s attention.

The giant set its huge feet wide apart and slapped the demon-created spear across its open palm. It paid no heed to the ranger, for it knew he had nowhere to flee, and concentrated instead on the woman, brave and foolish, walking steadily to her doom.

Each step came more difficult to Pony. She heard a commotion far behind and understood that the other giants—probably three or four more, if her count at the previous fight was accurate—had sealed off that end of the gully. Where had Elbryan gone, she wondered, and why? Why hadn’t he just put Hawkwing to use, shooting arrow after arrow at the spike wielder’s unarmored head until the thing fell over dead? Then they could fight two against two, and try to break out into the night.

Pony shook the confusing possibilities from her thoughts. This was Elbryan, she reminded herself: the Nightbird, the ranger, elven trained.

Even as her resolve began to mount once more, she saw him, running right through the fires, along a low branch on the tree to the giant’s right. Flames licked at him, at his soggy muddy cloak, but he scampered along, buried by the blaze, bearing down on his unsuspecting enemy.

Pony howled and charged, drawing the monster’s full attention. She skidded up quickly and loosed a forked bolt of crackling lightning, striking hard the leader and both of the giants behind it.

Then, before Togul Dek had recovered from the lightning, Elbryan was upon the brute, the ranger running full out to the end of the branch, leaping high and hard, sword extended, throwing his arms wide to thrust the smoldering cape behind him. Tempest dove right into the giant’s face, while Elbryan’s booted feet were planted hard against the behemoth’s massive chest.

He had only one quick strike; he had to be perfect. And so he was, mighty Tempest blasting through bone and flesh, diving into the giant’s brain.

Togul Dek tried to respond, tried to lift the spike and bring it to bear, but the weapon flew from the suddenly weak hands, drawing a bright line in the dark air. It landed far to the side, upon a stone it fast reduced to flowing, molten lava, rolling down the side of the mountain, taking the spike with it, and that, in turn, melting all subsequent stone, the fiery avalanche gaining momentum.

Elbryan viciously wrenched his blade free, but held his footing as the giant fell backward, the ranger riding the behemoth like some felled tree. The two giants behind their leader did not know what to make of the scene, had not even noticed Elbryan until Togul Dek began that backward fall. And then, it was too late.

Elbryan hit the ground in a graceful forward roll, rushing up and stabbing hard, finding the crease between one giant’s huge breastplate and its pelvic armor. Throwing his momentum firmly behind the sword, the ranger drove it in to its hilt, then scrambled past, right between the brutes, drawing Tempest back out as he went. He cut a sudden, sharp turn, diving into yet another roll, this one aimed at the second giant as it swung its club. The weapon swished high of the mark, harmlessly—for Elbryan, at least. The wounded giant, clutching its torn guts, bent right into the weapon’s path and got clipped across the forehead. It went down hard, groaning, trying to shake the dizziness, growling against the searing pain.

Elbryan got in a fast strike on the still-standing brute, then darted out into the night. He didn’t think himself quick enough, though, thought the giant would get in one hit, but then the monster inexplicably dropped its club and howled, grasping at its visor.

Pony ran by, stabbing the standing giant hard in the back of the leg, then rushing out to join Elbryan.

“What did you do to its eyes?” the ranger asked, but Pony had no answer, only shrugged and kept on running.

Pursuit was close and fast, forcing the tired companions to stay at full speed. They came to a wall of stone, climbable, but Elbryan feared the giants would have an easier time than he and Pony, that the brutes would close in and simply pluck them off the wall before they got over.

No other options, the ranger decided, and so he scrambled ahead, hoping to get a firm handhold, that he might propel Pony over him, over the stone, out to freedom in the dark night. He neared the top when he heard Pony, just a few feet below him, cry out in surprise.

Elbryan turned and screamed, seeing a giant reaching for his lover. Pony had no weapon in hand—no weapon that Elbryan saw, at least—though she had her arm extended out toward the giant.

She yelled again, and something flew out from her grasp, rocketed into the giant’s visor with a resounding ring, and though the missile did not penetrate the helm, but rather bounced off, it hit with tremendous force, bending and creasing the metal into the giant’s face, and the brute fell away. Pony was quick to retrieve the stone, not willing to abandon such a powerful weapon.

Elbryan grabbed Pony by the shoulder and hauled her up, pulling her right past him, then pushing hard until she went over the lip of the ridge. The ranger dug in and scrambled for all his life, and got over the rim just ahead of reaching fingers, a second giant coming in for him.

Pony was fast to those fingers, her sword slashing hard, taking a couple from the hand, and then the pair were running again; and this time no pursuit was close behind.

“What did you do to the first at the base of the wall?” the ranger asked her.

“Lodestone,” Pony replied. “The gem rushes to targeted metal. I wish I had a hundred more like it!”

Elbryan looked back in the direction of the ridge and shuddered at the sheer power of the stone. He had thought his sword impressive, had thought himself a marvelous warrior, and so he was, but how did that measure against the power of the stones?

Elbryan was glad that Pony was on his side and that Avelyn, much more powerful than the woman, was on his side. That thought gave him hope that his monk friend would indeed defeat the demon that had come to Corona.

Though she didn’t understand its source, Tuntun watched the growing spectacle of the fiery avalanche with satisfaction. The elf had played only a minor role in the battle, fired only a single arrow. But such a shot! Tuntun had put her arrow right against a giant’s visor, right through the slit! In her mind, she replayed again its howl and saw again the sight of Elbryan and Jilseponie running out to the safety of the dark night.

Convinced that they were safe for the time being, the elf had then circled back, down below the scene of the fight, to rejoin her precious companion.

“I’ll take you no farther,” she said to Symphony, patting the muzzle of this animal that had served her so well. Even though the trails seemed easy for at least a short distance, Tuntun decided that it would be better for her to use stealth. Alone, the elf could run full out without any fear of detection.

“I know that you are smart enough to get away,” Tuntun whispered, and the great horse snorted as if he understood. The elf took her pack and her weapons—bow and a long dagger—and with a final look Symphony’s way, a final nod of appreciation, she ran off into the night.