"The animals. They just are. Balok here doesn't worry if some other bird's not really telling the truth, or is plotting against him. All he has to do is get enough food to eat."
"I suppose so," Elyana replied.
"What would that be like, do you think?"
Elyana reflected for only a moment. "Most people I know who live in the moment, the way Balok does, are evil."
Cyrelle looked up slowly.
"They don't care about anyone else, only what they need at that time."
"You think that's the way Calvonis is?"
Elyana shook her head. "No."
"So why do you think he's done all this?"
"I've seen his type before. They always believe they're special. Better than the rest of us by dint of their money, or knowledge, or race or sex. And they want everyone to know it."
"You think that's why he's killing all these people?"
"Oh, it's more complicated than that, but if you strip away the layers of justification, I can just about guarantee it. You heard him this evening. He's thrown in with the Razmiri. They think they've got a lock on the religious truth, and are damned well sure they can make everyone else listen up. At swordpoint."
"You aim to take on the Razmiri, too?"
Elyana caught the hint of rebuke in the huntswoman's tone, and looked down at that broad, homely face. "No. Just Calvonis. He's the only one I want."
Cyrelle nodded sagely. "You know it doesn't matter who kills the man, don't you? So long as he and the beast are dead?"
"I want to know why he's done this."
"I thought you just told me you figured that out."
Elyana nodded. "But I want the specifics. And I'll be damned if I want to give the druids the satisfaction..." she felt her anger gathering, and tightened her sword hand into a fist before knocking it against the pommel of her sword.
Cyrelle lowered her wrist and Balok hopped down onto a small brown blanket that the huntswoman had spread for him. He preened his feathers. She then stood, tall enough that she could levelly meet Elyana's gaze.
"Elyana, I like you. You know that. You're a fine ranger, and you're probably the best horse trainer I've ever met."
"But?" Elyana prompted.
"But I don't see how you've lasted as long as you have. How old are you, anyway? Never mind, it's not polite, I know. I've seen some young elves, and you aren't one of them. I figure you're at least a hundred and fifty."
Elyana watched as the woman sighed. Cyrelle's voice grew wistful. "My father used to tell me that anger is a fire that burns from within. You let it stoke you too quickly. Seems to me maybe you knew the deal we made with the fey was sour to start with, and maybe that's why you drew the knife on Shalon."
"I drew the knife to shut her up."
Cyrelle chuckled. "Well, she surely needed shutting up. But you've got to know it wasn't the proper way."
Elyana nodded slowly.
"So what if the Oakstewards get the summoner?" Cyrelle prompted. "So what if you never know why he's done all this? He'll be dead, and that's what all of us want."
Elyana knew the woman was right, but could scarce stomach the thought of someone else bringing Calvonis to justice.
"This may be better," Cyrelle pressed on. "If a force of these druids is mustered against Calvonis, who's already weak, what hope does he have? Who's to say how close we really were to killing the monster, or whether the fey really would have turned him over if we'd won?"
Elyana frowned. She'd been unwilling to admit this possibility to herself, but it had been a real one.
Cyrelle stepped closer, voice low. "I know you want to make sure Drelm's secure in his life here before you move on."
Elyana started. "How did you know that?
"It's easy. You've nothing holding you in Delgar but Drelm. And Lady Pharasma will come for him long before you even gray. I've had some elf friends before. I know how you think when you get close to us short-lived types. You aim to watch out for our futures."
Elyana sighed.
"You should be happy, then. The Oakstewards will kill the summoner. The monster will be dead, and us—look at us—we won't have to face it again. We're just about whipped, Elyana."
"We just need rest."
"We need some luck, not just some rest. How many times has Drelm almost died?" Cyrelle shook her head. "His number's about up. Let the druids get Calvonis. And then Drelm can get back to his little bird and raise a nest of hatchlings."
Elyana breathed out slowly. "That's what should be important. No—that's what is important." She didn't add that she still wanted to see the light go out from the summoner's eyes. Or that she wanted to beat the Oakstewards with their own staves.
"Well, get some rest. It's hard seeing those you're leading fall. It isn't easy, leading dogs or men."
Elyana nodded once more and composed herself. "Thank you, Cyrelle."
"No problem. You get some rest. The gods know you've earned it."
"Haven't we all." Elyana retreated to her bedroll, but though she was tired, she couldn't sleep. Somewhere in the darkness was the Wilewood, and somewhere west of it was the summoner. She envied the rest of her expedition as she heard their snores rising, and wondered if the real reason she couldn't let the matter go was because she didn't like to lose.
She was still staring up at the stars when a horse galloped in. Instantly Elyana was out of the bedroll and thrusting her feet into boots. Before she'd even buckled on her sword, she heard the Oaksteward sentry challenge the newcomer. Her keen eyesight picked him out in the darkness as he breathlessly threw himself off of his horse, asked for Kilvor, then hurried to the lead druid's tent. Most of the rest of the Oakstewards had retired to their own tents, although Shalon and two others stood watch.
Of Elyana's group, only Lisette seemed still to be awake, and she had crept up to Elyana's side to watch with her.
"What do you think that means?" the bounty hunter asked.
"Something about Calvonis," Elyana replied softly.
"You think they've lost him?"
It was nice to hear that possessive tone in someone else's voice. "I think we should find out. Because I'm not sure they're planning to tell us."
"What do you have in mind?"
"We're going to go listen in."
Lisette's mouth curled into a dangerous smile. "That suits me."
While the markswoman retreated to grab her gear, Elyana quickly took her own, then worked her way over to Drelm. She had all but completely pushed her worries about Lisette aside. They resurfaced briefly now, but with Lisette long since having proven herself, she ignored them.
Normally it was easy to wake the half-orc, but that night, merely touching his shoulder didn't do the trick. He was even more weary than Elyana had supposed, and she felt a pang of guilt at having to rouse him from his sleep. She shook him, harder. The snores faltered but did not abate.
Strange.
Elyana slid over to Illidian and found him even less responsive. By the time she'd moved on to Aladel she'd grown truly suspicious. Neither was dead, but their sleep was entirely too deep.
Lisette joined her at the second elf's shoulder. "What are you doing?"
"I can't rouse any of them," Elyana whispered.
"Do you think Calvonis cast a spell?"
Elyana had mulled that possibility over, but she had a deeper suspicion. "Did you eat any of the Oakstewards' food?"
"No." Lisette came to the same conclusion instantly. "You think the bastards drugged us?"
"Yes," Elyana said.
"Why?"
"Let's see if we can find out." Elyana pushed down the rage she felt building and motioned Lisette after her. Soon the two women were crawling slowly, expertly, through the grasses.
She passed only a few meters beyond Shalon and bit down a curse as the messenger stepped from the tent and made his way over to the Oakstewards' fire. In the three-foot-high grasses, she and Lisette were almost invisible, and the man didn't see them. What poi
nt in listening now, when the message had already been delivered?
Elyana almost gave up, but then she heard voices from inside.
She crawled slowly forward until she and Lisette were within a few feet of the tent, close enough to see the shifting shadow of a bearded man thrown upon the canvas. Kilvor, she thought, and recognized his voice.
"...no further help," Kilvor was saying. "We managed to get the fey to assist us, briefly, but their attention wandered back to their seasonal ceremonies."
"You were our best hope for them," a second male voice said, although Elyana saw no other shadow. Some kind of communication spell?
"You cannot entice them?" the unfamiliar voice asked.
"With promises of what? They're back to playing their strange games in their wood. They have no reason to aid us."
"What about the little force you escorted?"
"They're bone weary," Kilvor said. "And I'm not sure how far to trust them. Their leader is...governed by her emotions."
Elyana's lip curled. She would show him emotions.
"Is there any sign of the plague among the elves?"
Plague? What had she stumbled upon now?
"Nothing," Kilvor assented. "I led them from our lands as swiftly as I was able. I've drugged enough of them so they'll be too tired to move for the next day, so we should be able to observe them through the danger period."
Elyana felt as though she'd been dealt a physical blow. They'd been exposed to some kind of plague and the Oaksteward's hadn't bothered to tell them?
"Do you have any idea where the summoner has gone?" Kilvor asked.
"We tracked him briefly as he left the Wilewood," the echoing voice responded. "But I am sorry, brother. He slipped away."
"If he has any sense," Kilvor said, "he'll ride for the border directly."
So the Oakstewards were not only liars, they were bunglers.
Behind her there was a rustle of grass, and then a thud. Kilvor and the other were still talking, but Elyana turned to find Shalon standing with her staff, looking down into the grasses a few feet off. She had found Lisette.
"I have my night eyes," she said, sternly. "And you won't be wriggling loose from that spell any time soon. I think we'd best have a word—"
Elyana did not reason. She shot to her feet and rushed. Never, she'd learned, give a spellcaster time to react.
The druid saw her a moment too late, stopping in mid-sentence and attempting to bring up her staff. The woman's breath left her body in an explosive gasp as Elyana slammed into her, and in a moment the elf wrestled her down into the grass. The druid, dazed, still managed to smack the back of Elyana's head with the staff. It was a good knock, but Elyana gritted her teeth and pushed her knife blade to the woman's throat.
"Whatever you try next might work," Elyana whispered, "but I guarantee you'll be bleeding anyway. A lot. So I suggest you start talking."
"You wouldn't kill me," Shalon said quietly. Defiantly. "I have weighed your heart."
"I don't know, druid. Your Kilvor says I'm emotionally unstable. What do you think? I understand there's a plague, and that you've drugged us to make sure we're well before we leave. What do you plan if we're not well?"
The woman's eyes flared. "You won't," she said, but now she sounded less certain.
"Do you really want to try me on that? Release Lisette."
"Her spell will fade in time."
Elyana pressed the blade tighter to the skin and felt it give, making a shallow cut. The druid flinched beneath her. "Talk."
"There's a plague in Sevenarches," Shalon said softly, "but it strikes only elves. It has no cure."
"And you've told no one?"
"We wish no one to become alarmed."
"Instead you just piss off everyone with your high-handedness."
The druid did not reply.
"And what do you do with those who sicken?" Elyana demanded.
"Make them as comfortable as possible."
"But you don't say anything? To their relatives, or friends?"
The woman didn't answer.
Elyana pulled back, yanked the woman's staff from her hand, and pitched it out into the grass.
"Get away from me," Elyana said, and climbed to her feet. Shalon stalked off to retrieve her staff. Elyana stepped to Lisette, who lay facedown with grass wrapped about her ankles, arms, and waist.
The grass reached up for Elyana as she neared, but the elf made quick work of it, chopping the dark blades down to size while Lisette fought to her knees against the grasping vegetation. By the time Elyana had the bounty hunter extricated, Shalon had summoned Kilvor from the tent and returned. The druid regarded them sourly, his arms folded over his chest.
Elyana sheathed her sword. "So you sabotage my mission and drug my people when you say you'll heal them."
"It is necessary, for my people."
"We're on the border of your lands, druid. I need not obey you. I would move my camp, save my folk are apparently drugged. Tell me: how will you stop me from spreading word of this plague?"
Kilvor shot a look at Shalon, then considered Elyana. "I would prevail upon your good nature."
Elyana laughed shortly. "It strikes me that if you really wanted to do the right thing, you would warn people away rather than trying to suppress the information."
Kilvor sounded tired. "You presume reasonable people. Suppose that some come seeking a way to fight Kyonin, and export the plague? Suppose Kyonin were to investigate? There might be war—or worse, the spread of the plague."
"So you've decided for everyone else. If we were already exposed, did it not occur to you to give us a few more minutes to fight the summoner's beast?"
"My duty," Kilvor said, "is to keep peace between the fey and the rest of Sevenarches, and to escort all elves to the border. I do not make policy. I enforce it."
"You do as you're told," Elyana said, and almost spat. "A great deal of evil is done in this world by people who claim they merely do what they're told."
"A greater deal is done by those who will not follow the laws. Now, for your sake—for the sake of all elves—I think it best if you let us observe you for another twelve hours. But on your own head be it." Kilvor turned and ducked low as he cast the tent flap aside. Elyana saw no one else within, confirming her guess that earlier she'd been listening in on some kind of magical conference between him a distant colleague.
They were left with the glowering redhead. Blood still trickled from the wound upon Shalon's neck, and, seeing the track of Elyana's eyes, she lifted a finger there.
"You do this to those who try to shield you?" the woman said.
"You're lucky she didn't do worse," Lisette snapped.
The druid's mouth tightened, and she walked away.
Elyana stepped up to Lisette and they walked down the hillside toward their own camp.
Elyana stood looking down at her team in the bedrolls.
"What do you want to do?" Lisette asked.
From the edge in her voice Elyana knew the markswoman was still itching for a fight.
"What I want to do is different from what we can do," Elyana said. "A real healer could cure them."
"But you can't."
"No. So we two will have to trade watches."
Lisette nodded. "And how much do you want to tell the others?"
Furious as she was with the Oakstewards and their methods, she found herself understanding their reasoning, if not all of their actions. She mouthed a curse. "Let's just keep that between us. For now."
"Sure," Lisette answered. "For now."
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Fourteen
Glory of Razmir
Drelm
Drelm dreamt of a misty lakeshore where he walked with his mother. She seemed impossibly tall and very sad, and when he tried to ask her why, she seemed not to hear, but clutched his hand tighter. He didn't see her face. He could never remember her face, even in dreams.
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An otherworldly call came from somewhere out in the water, and he knew immediately that it was Daylah. As was the way with dreams, he found himself alone on the shore and fully grown, with his mother gone, and thought nothing of it. He called back to Daylah, who merely repeated his name, and then waded into the chill water and struck out with a strong if inexperienced stroke.
The calls grew louder, and the water darker. Drelm finally realized that he didn't know how to swim in black water, which was much more challenging than blue water, and was deciding to ask an especially wise-looking green-scaled fish about it when the creature's eyes glowed brilliantly and it began to shout his name. Drelm was surprised, for he had never heard such a loud fish before. The whole sea seemed to shake with the sound of its voice.
And then the fish's voice became that of Elyana, and Drelm opened his eyes to find his friend staring down at him with anxious eyes. Over her shoulder was a riot of stars, gleaming in the night sky. The ground shook beneath him.
"Rise up!" Elyana shouted. "The summoner's back!"
Drelm sat up. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, for his thoughts seemed strangely foggy. But his armor lay to his right, and he grabbed it in one massive hand and thrust it over his head as he sat up. Elyana stepped away, calling to Lisette. Dogs were barking.
Drelm asked Abadar for guidance and buckled on his weapons belt, then tore his battleaxe from its sheath. There was no time to don his boots.
It bothered him that he swayed as he stood. Lisette was still shouting at the unresponsive elves. Groggily, Drelm took in the lay of the land.
The beast seemed to have run straight for the high hill where the tents of the Oakstewards were a trampled mass of snapped spars and waving canvas, lying ruined like a flock of broken-backed birds slapped from the skies by the hand of an angry god. Three robed figures stood near the dying fire, their backs to one of the ruined walls, chanting and waving staffs at something that moved in the darkness. Drelm thought that the figure with them, the one with the sword, might have been the mercenary Grellen.
But the barking dogs weren't there, nor were the gunshots. They seemed to be off toward what Drelm suspected was the southwest, though he couldn't be sure.
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