Avelyn stepped back and produced a small flask from under his cloak.
"Potion of courage," he whispered to Burgis Gosen, giving a wink, and then he took a deep draw. He finished with a satisfied "Aaah!" then rubbed his free hand briskly over his face while replacing the flask in his thick robes.
Then Avelyn eyed Tol squarely, matching the man's ominous expression with one of pure excitement. Tol growled and came forward, but Avelyn was ready for him.
"Ho, ho, what!" the monk bellowed as Tol moved to poke him in the chest again. With a single sweeping left hook, Avelyn laid the big man low.
Two of Tol's companions jumped the monk immediately, but they were shrugged away and the fight was on.
Behind the bar, Belster shook his head and sighed deeply, wondering how many would be left standing to help him clean up the mess.
Brother Justice smiled wickedly as he approached the Howling Sheila, as he heard the commotion of a fight,. confirmation that Brother Avelyn was within.
The monk had shed his telltale brown robe in favor of the more normal dress of a villager. He wondered if his old friend Avelyn would recognize him without the Abellican trappings, and that thought prompted the man to pull low the hood of his traveling cloak.
Better for the surprise
Avelyn was outnumbered five to one — and those odds were only due to the fact that three other men were fighting on his side, or at least, against the mob that was moving against the monk.
Elbryan, on his feet and ready, watched it all curiously, not quite knowing what to make of the wild monk, as Avelyn, fighting wonderfully, kept bellowing out for "preparedness," and calling the brawl a "readiness exercise."
The ranger was not unhappy at seeing Tol Yuganick and his friends getting a beating, as long as things didn't get too out of hand.
Elbryan allowed himself a smile when brutish Tol pulled himself up from the floor and charged the monk with a roar, only to have the huge man sidestep at the last possible second, tripping Tol over a trailing leg, then helping him along with a stiff forearm to the back of the flying man's head.
"Ho, ho, what!" Avelyn howled in glee.
So Elbryan stood back from it all, figuring it to be one of those dangers for the villagers to work out on their own. He kept Hawkwing, unstrung, ready at his side, though, already deciding that no deadly revenge would be taken once the monk was put down.
If the monk was put down, Elbryan soon corrected his thinking, for the fat man moved with the grace and precision of a trained warrior. He dodged and punched, took a hit and laughed it away, then buried his latest attacker with a heavy punch or a well placed knee. He flipped two men at once over his huge shoulders, laughing all the while. A chair shattered against his back, but while Belster O'Comely groaned at the hit, the monk only laughed all the louder, giving his habitual cry, "Ho, ho, what!"
Elbryan leaned on his staff, thinking this quite a show. As soon as his posture eased, he was challenged almost immediately as an enthusiastic villager used the opportunity of a general fight to take a punch at the disliked ranger.
Elbryan casually put Hawkwing out vertically in front of him, picking off the punch with the hard wood. The attacker moaned and clutched his hand, and Elbryan pulled hard down and toward himself with his upper hand so that the staff's lower end shot up and out, right between the groaning man's legs.
Elbryan retracted the weapon and poked it straight out, setting it firmly against the man's chest and pushing him away to fail, clutching hand and groin, to the floor. Then the ranger went back to watching, thinking that the mad monk would soon tire. If the man made but a single mistake, the mob of villagers would overwhelm him.
Then Elbryan would step in.
The ranger smiled once more as Tol Yuganick attacked again, only to be hammered away. Elbryan's grin faded fast, though, his expression turning to one of curiosity, as a newcomer slipped in the tavern doors, moving easily through the battling crowd. When one man turned to punch at him, the newcomer leveled him with a series of three sharp, perfectly placed blows, launched with such rapidity that the man hadn't even moved to respond to the first when the third dropped him.
Even without the fighting display, Elbryan knew that this was no ordinary villager. The man walked with the balanced gait of a warrior and sifted through the crowd with the focus of an assassin — and like an assassin, his face was half-covered, a scarf pulled up high and tightly tied.
It wasn't difficult for the ranger to discern the man's target.
What enemies had this wild monk made? Elbryan wondered, as he, too, worked through the tangled crowd, angling to intercept the newcomer.
The deadly punch was headed for Avelyn's throat, though the fat monk, already engaged with two others, never saw it coming. Elbryan's staff picked it off in midair, deflecting the blow up high. The newcomer, his balance and timing perfect, hardly noticed, but followed with his second strike, his other hand coming across hard.
Elbryan snapped his staff down low, quite hard, stinging the man on the forearm.
Now Brother Justice did turn his sights on Elbryan, spinning to face him with the sudden knowledge that this, too, was no ordinary villager who had come to Avelyn's aid. A man tried to jump on the monk's back then, but Brother Justice elbowed him hard in the chest, then the neck; then the face in rapid succession, sending him tumbling away. None of those nearby who had seen the defense wanted any part of the stranger, and none in the tavern — except perhaps for Tol, who was still on the floor — wanted a fight with Elbryan. That left the two, Elbryan and Brother Justice, standing face-to-face, an island of calm in a raging sea, weirdly isolated from the rest of the thrashing mob.
The monk leaped ahead, feigning a punch and kicking straight out for Elbryan's knee. Elbryan put his staff up high to block the expected punch, but even though he seemed to fall for the ruse, the ranger was not caught. He spun a reverse circuit off his back foot even as Brother Justice kicked, moving his leg out of range.
Brother Justice came ahead hard, trying to beat the turn, to catch his foe on the back before Elbryan could get all the way around.
Elbryan halted in mid-spin, reversed his energy, and sent the staff straight out and back. He turned right under the weapon and launched it again in a straight poke, driving his opponent backward. Then the ranger went into a flurry: poking, swishing the staff side to side, then pulling it straight across, and alternating a series of heavy blows, left hand leading, right hand leading.
Brother Justice picked every attack off, his arms waving in a blur, hardened forearms smacking against the polished wood. He tried to find some hole in the ranger's press, some opening through which he might go on the attack once more. But Elbryan's form was perfect, each strike following the previous too closely for any countering move.
Still, the ranger did not get through the defenses of the skilled monk, and soon enough, didn't even have Brother Justice backing any longer.
The attack flurry played itself out, Elbryan coming to a crouched stance, Hawkwing horizontal in front of him. Now the monk did come on fiercely, chopping at the staff as if he meant to snap it in half.
Elbryan was ready, had anticipated the move perfectly: He brought the staff in close to his chest, Brother Justice's downward swipe falling short, then rolled Hawkwing over the descending arm and snapped it down hard. In the same motion, Elbryan came ahead a step and thrust both his hands, and thus the staff, straight out horizontally, driving it under the monk's chin.
Brother Justice fell away as the wicked strike came in. He rolled his free arm up, taking some of the momentum from the blow, then knifed his hand out straight, scoring a hit of his own.
The two staggered apart, Elbryan gasping for breath, Brother Justice trying to shake away the dizziness. Immediately the mob rolled in around them, for all the Howling Sheila was flying fists and breaking chairs.
"Ho, ho, what!" came the exuberant bellow above the din, and it was obvious to Elbryan that the fat monk was enjoying this row.
Elbryan heard the movement behind him, recognizing it as an attack. He spun, Hawkwing extended, to pick off a lumbering hook, then brought the high tip of his staff down hard diagonally, drawing blood on the face of Tol Yuganick.
Seeing the huge man dazed, Elbryan let go his weapon with one hand and snapped his palm. into Tol's chin, dropping him heavily to the floor. Then the ranger began his scan again, seeking the newcomer, this skilled fighter, this assassin.
The ranger elbowed through the brawl, blocking punches whenever necessary, felling with three shortened blows yet another villager who tried to pounce upon him.
Brother Justice moved in a wide circuit of the dangerous ranger. He took a small pin from the rope belt of his robe and held it in tight, against his sunstone. Sunstones were used as wards, primarily against magic but also against various poisons. The stone's magic could be twisted, though — could be inverted.
Soon the monk spotted the ranger, predictably walking a guard near fighting Avelyn. Slowly Brother Justice closed, using bodies as camouflage.
Elbryan noted the man's approach and was ready when the deadly monk came in. He started for Elbryan but shifted suddenly and darted fast for Avelyn, who was standing with his arms high above his head, spinning Burgis Gosen in circles.
Elbryan had to move fast, had to throw his weight to the side frantically to intercept. He noted the tiny flicker of silver in the newcomer's hand, noted that the man held some weapon.
He caught the newcomer by the wrist, accepted a punch from the man's other hand in exchange for his own strike with Hawkwing. Brother Justice had the better balance at that time, though, and Elbryan took the worst of it. He staggered to one knee, trying to find a defensive posture, expecting to be pummeled.
The attack never came. Elbryan saw a shadow cross before him — Burgis Gosen in Avelyn — launched flight — and when the tangle sorted out, the newcomer was not to be seen.
Only then did Elbryan realize that the wrist of the arm with which he had grabbed the assassin was bleeding, a thin line of red. Not a serious wound, surely, but one that seemed to burn with an anger of its own. The ranger shrugged it away and hustled to the side of the fat monk.
Avelyn was ready for the charge, his hands moving in swift defense.
Elbryan had no time for that, though. "I am no enemy!" he declared, but when Avelyn, howling his usual "Ho, ho, what!" punched out anyway, Elbryan skittered down to one knee, hooked his staff behind the fat man's legs, and uprooted him.
The monk fell hard to the floor.
Elbryan was over him in an instant, more to protect him from the angry crowd than in any fear of retaliation. "I am no enemy!" he yelled again, and he caught the fat man by the wrist and yanked him to his feet, then rushed him out of the tavern.
The fight continued without them; Avelyn had merely given the villagers and the visiting trappers an excuse for a wild party.
Brother Avelyn was full of questions, full of protests, but the ranger would hear none of them. He ushered the monk away, his own eyes darting from shadow to shadow, expecting the deadly stranger to be about. Finally they got behind the back wall of the northernmost house in the village, just beneath the forested slope.
"Preparedness training," Avelyn explained, and the look on his face showed that he meant to carry on the fight out here, with just this one "trainee."
One good look at Elbryan changed Avelyn's mind, though. Lines of sweat streaked the ranger's face and his breath came in short gasps. Elbryan held up his wrist, staring at the wound, presenting it as explanation to the now-curious monk.
Avelyn caught the arm and held it up in the moonlight. It was not a serious wound, a tiny slice, too small to have been caused by a dagger, even.
That alone told the monk that this man was in serious trouble. For a wound so minuscule to cause such pain could only mean . . .
Avelyn fumbled to find his hematite. He suspected poison and understood that the longer it took him to go after the insidious substance, the more deeply he would have to join his spirit with his patient's and the more agony it would cause both of them.
As soon as he started, however, Brother Avelyn found a frightening twist.
This man had been-poisoned, no doubt about it, but the poison was not based in any substance, in any herb or plant or any animal venom. It was magically based; the monk could feel that keenly. As such, it was quite easy for Avelyn to counter the effects with his powerful hematite, and soon Elbryan was breathing steadily again, soon the burning pain was no more.
"No enemy?" Avelyn asked when he saw that Elbryan was fine and steady.
"No enemy," the ranger replied. "But know that you will make enemies, my friend, with such talk and such —"
"Preparedness training," Avelyn finished with a wink.
"Indeed," the ranger said dryly. "And they will surely prepare the ground for your interment if you continue to battle with some of the scoundrels about Dundalis."
Avelyn nodded and shrugged helplessly. "Your wound will heal," he assured the ranger, and then he started away, into the dark night, heading back toward the Howling Sheila, where the fighting was gradually diminishing.
Elbryan watched him go, taking some comfort in the fact that the man swerved for the inn's side door and was apparently going to his room, not back to the common room. The fat monk was in real trouble, the ranger realized, for that man he had fought, that man with the poisoned needle, was much more than an overzealous ruffian. Elbryan didn't know exactly where he might fit in to such a private affair, but he expected that he and the fat monk — and likely the deadly stranger, as well — had not seen the last of one another.
CHAPTER 34
Justice
Brother Avelyn was not overly concerned when he returned to his room to find that Jill was not about. The woman had mentioned her plans to walk to the valley beyond the north slope, and the monk was confident that Jill could take care of herself. In their weeks together, it seemed to Avelyn that Jill looked after him more than he protected her.
So the monk, exhausted from fighting and then curing the stranger's magical poisoning, his mind heavy with drink, plopped down on his bed and was soon snoring loudly. His dreams were not content, though, not with the prospects of a magic-wielding assassin nearby. Likely, the man was in no way connected to Avelyn, but still the fugitive monk remained concerned.
He awoke late the next morning, to find himself alone in the room. Again, he was not concerned, figuring that Jill had come in after he had fallen asleep, and was long up and about, probably down in the common room having her breakfast.
"Or lunch," the monk remarked aloud with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Ho, ho, what!"
When he got downstairs, though, Avelyn saw no sign of Jill; indeed, Belster O'Comely informed him that he had not seen the woman all night. "Perhaps she found better company to keep," the innkeeper said snidely, leaning on the broom he was using to sweep up the remnants of the previous night's activities.
"Indeed would Jill be better off away from one as mad as I," Avelyn replied, wincing with every word, for his head was pounding. The monk had long ago noted, with complete frustration, that the hematite, powerful as it was, could do little to relieve a hangover.
Avelyn ate a light meal, then shuffled outside and promptly regurgitated it. He felt better after. The day was cool and gray, the sky spitting light snow every so often. "Oh, where are you, girl?" Avelyn asked loudly, more frustrated than afraid. The question would have to wait, though, for the monk made his weary way back to his room and went back to bed.
He didn't wake up again until the next morning, to discover, once more, that Jill was nowhere to be found. Now Avelyn was indeed growing fearful; it wasn't like Jill to disappear for so long without forewarning him or without finding some way to contact him. That, combined with the presence of this magic-wielding assassin, surely concerned the monk. Perhaps the incident in the common room was no accident. Perhaps the monastery was on his trail. Had they caught him at
last, up here in the most remote corner of Honce-the-Bear? And had Jill paid dearly for Avelyn's crimes?
He went to speak with Belster again, and, after hearing from the innkeeper that Jill still had not been seen, Avelyn begged the innkeeper to tell him how he might locate the stranger who had shuffled him out of the fight.
"The ranger?" Belster asked incredulously, and from his tone, it was obvious to Avelyn that few inquired as to this man's whereabouts.
"If that is what he calls himself," Avelyn replied.
"He calls himself Elbryan," Belster explained, "to me, at least, though to others he carries another title. And he's one of the rangers, do not doubt." He saw that the term held no meaning for Avelyn. "Some say they're elf trained, others that they're merely misfits who find some comfort in thinking themselves better than anyone else, walking their vigilant patrols, protecting all the land
— not that there's any need for protection, of course."
"Of course," Avelyn politely echoed. He found that he was beginning to like this man called Elbryan more and more with every word. "Where might I find this ranger, then?" the monk pressed.
Belster's shrug was surely sincere. "Here and there," he replied. "Walks the woods from here to End-o'-the-World, from what I'm told."
Avelyn's expression soured and he looked down at the bar. "What of the other stranger?" he asked. "The small mysterious man who fought so well?"
Belster's face screwed up. "There are many strangers in Dundalis this season," he answered. "And all of them fight well, else the forest would have taken them by now!"
"The small and agile man," Avelyn tried to clarify, "the one who battled Elbryan so fiercely."
Belster nodded his recognition. "He was in here again last night," the innkeeper explained. "No fighting this time."
Avelyn took a deep breath and cursed himself for sleeping the afternoon and all the night through while a potential clue to Jill's whereabouts was right below him.
DemonWars Saga Volume 1 Page 42
