"Direct me, then," the monk said at last. "Point me in the most likely direction where I might find Elbryan."
Again Belster shrugged, then he considered the fact that every time he had seen Elbryan enter Dundalis, it was down the north road. He pointed to the north. "That way," he declared, "up and over the slope, through the vale, and turn west."
Avelyn automatically looked that way, though of course, all he could see was the north wall of the Howling Sheila. He nodded as he considered the words, glad for them. Traveling north, he might find Elbryan, it would seem, and he would also be able to search for signs of his dear Jill.
He set off after a quick meal, huffing and puffing up the forested slope, then, after a long pause spent staring down at the stark pines and white ground, he started down the back side of the ridge, into the valley, angling northwest.
There were no signs to be found — Brother Justice had made certain of that — and oblivious Avelyn passed by within thirty feet of the concealed entrance to the cave that now served as Jill's prison.
She had not been treated badly . . . until Brother Justice had returned, the night before last, in a foul mood and visibly bruised, to find that she had nearly escaped her tight bonds. Then the monk had beaten her severely and had subsequently tied her up so tightly that her hands and feet were now completely numb.
When she wouldn't — couldn't — tell him anything about the staff-wielding stranger who had intervened in the inn, the ferocious monk had beaten her again, and now one of her eyes was swollen closed.
Brother Justice had spent all that next day with her; talking mostly to himself about how he might get word to the fat monk that he held her captive.
Then the assassin had gone out; Jill knew that his plan still was not fully clear and that he was simply searching for more information. Now, with a gray morning fast turning to midday outside, Brother Justice had not returned.
Jill hoped that Avelyn had killed him; Jill, who could not possibly get out of the bindings and gag that the monk had put on her this time, hoped that Avelyn had first forced the man to disclose her whereabouts!
To Avelyn, who had lived all of his life in the more populous and defined central region of Honce-the-Bear, and who had lately. traveled the breadth of the land along well-defined roads, with clear landmarks and signposts, the prospects of finding the ranger had not initially seemed dismal. It wasn't until Avelyn got deep into the wide forest, where the view varied little from direction to direction, where the landmarks were so much more subtle, that he understood the true scope of his hunt. The distance from Youmaneff to St.-Mere-Abelle was over two hundred miles, the distance from Dundalis to End-o'-the-World but two score, yet, given the winding trails' and the areas where there were no trails at all, Avelyn soon realized that he would have had a better chance of finding the ranger had he been pursuing the man in the miles from his home to the abbey.
He wandered in circle, taking care to note the direction of the sun as it slipped behind the gray canopy, looking for some sign. Of course Elbryan, trained by, the elves, left, little or no trail at all, and Avelyn's frustration steadily mounted. He wasn't even sure, after all, that Elbryan had left Dundalis in this direction.
Thus, by midday, the monk was ready to give up the hunt. He would return to Dundalis — and perhaps Jill would be there waiting for him — and then take the more conventional road through Weedy Meadow to End-o'-the-World. There was simply no possibility, he now understood, that he would find the ranger in this forest.
But Avelyn was no ranger, and this was not his domain, and while he had no chance of locating Elbryan, the ranger had little trouble finding him.
The monk was huffing and puffing along a flat trail, arching around the base of a hillock, when he first heard the hooves. He scrambled for some brush, thinking to hide, and then, when that seemed futile, he fumbled about his magical stones, trying to sort out some defensive measures.
A moment later, Avelyn relaxed as a powerful black stallion thundered by.
"No rider," the monk said aloud, mocking his own worries. "Ho, ho, what!"
"But a beautiful horse nonetheless," came a remark from right behind and above him. "Would you not agree?"
Avelyn froze in place, a lump rising in his throat. He turned slowly to see the ranger crouched in the brush along the side of the hillock, just a few feet back. "H-how did you —" the monk stammered. "I mean, you were there all along?"
Elbryan shook his head and smiled.
"But how?"
"You were busy listening to the horse," the ranger explained.
Avelyn glanced back the other way to see the stallion standing tall and pawing the ground, looking at him and Elbryan with eyes that seemed too intelligent for such a creature.
"His name is Symphony,"' Elbryan explained.
"I am not well acquainted with horses," Avelyn admitted, "but he seems a wonder."
Elbryan uttered a soft clicking sound, and Symphony responded by lifting his ears and nickering. The stallion pawed the ground once more, then thundered away back along the trail.
"You will have a hard time catching that one again!" Avelyn blurted, trying to ease his own tension. He looked back at Elbryan. "Ho, ho, what!"
Elbryan didn't blink and the ranger's lack of interest stole the bubbly grin from Avelyn's face.
"Well, yes," the monk began uncomfortably. "Why am I here, then, you would like to know. Of course, of course."
Elbryan squatted perfectly still, arms across his bent legs, fingers locked together, his gaze fixed upon the man.
"Well . . . to find you, yes, yes," Avelyn finally explained, finding his wits against that uncompromising stare. "Of course, yes, I came into the forest looking for the one they call the ranger."
Elbryan gave a slight nod, prompting Avelyn to continue.
"Well, it is about the fight, of course," he said. "About the man, actually, the one who tried for me but poisoned you."
Elbryan nodded; this visit wasn't totally unexpected, since the stealthy fighter from the Howling Sheila was still in the region, as was. this monk whom Elbryan believed the assassin's target. Elbryan suspected that the mad friar would need help, and suspected, too, that he would find little among the folk of Dundalis.
"He attacked you again?" the ranger asked.
"No — no," Avelyn stammered. "Well, yes, actually, or he might have. I cannot be sure."
Elbryan sighed wearily.
"It is my companion, of course," the nervous monk went on. "Beautiful young woman, and a fighter, too. But she is gone, nowhere to be found, and I am afraid —"
"You should be afraid," Elbryan replied. "That was no ordinary brawler in the common room the other night."
"The magical poison," Avelyn reasoned.
"The way he moved," Elbryan corrected. "He was a warrior, a true warrior, long trained in the art of battle."
Avelyn nodded enthusiastically, but the ranger's words only heightened his fear that this was indeed no coincidental attack, that the fighting monks of the Abellican Church were after him.
"You must tell me of this man," Elbryan said, "everything you know."
"I do not know anything," Avelyn replied in exasperation.
"Then tell me everything that you suspect," the ranger demanded. "If he has your friend, then you need my help — help I willingly give, but only if you remain forthright with me."
Avelyn nodded again, glad for the words. Elbryan rose and moved down to the trail, Avelyn following close behind.
"I do not even know your name," the monk-remarked, though he remembered the name that Belster had given to this man.
"I am El —" the ranger began reflexively, but he caught himself and looked hard at the monk, the first man who had actively sought out his help since he had left Andur'Blough Inninness, the first man who would admit that he needed the ranger's assistance. "I am Nightbird," Elbryan said evenly.
Avelyn cocked an eyebrow at that curious title, not the response he had expected. Wh
atever the man's reasons for offering a different title were not important, Avelyn decided, and so he accepted the name without further question.
The pair walked back toward Dundalis then, Avelyn telling Elbryan his suspicions about the pursuit from the church. Of course, the conversation grew uncomfortable for Avelyn when the ranger asked why St.-Mere-Abelle might be after the monk, and Avelyn had not the time nor the inclination to explain all the events that had led to his fateful decision. How does one justify murder and theft, after all? Elbryan didn't press the point, however; at that time, all that truly seemed relevant was that Avelyn's companion was missing, possibly kidnapped by a man the ranger knew to be dangerous.
And Avelyn's description of his companion, added to the fact that the monk hinted that they had come to Dundalis for her benefit, gave the ranger much to think about.
The hunt began soon after, Elbryan searching hard to find some trail leading out of Dundalis, while Avelyn inquired of Belster and some other patrons in the Howling Sheila whether the stranger had returned to the inn today.
Their answers came near dusk, when Avelyn returned to his room to find a note pinned to his bedding. It was short and to the point, confirming the monk's worst fears. If Avelyn wanted to save his companion, he was to travel to the slope overlooking the pine valley, alone, and wait at an appointed spot.
He showed the note to Elbryan down in the Howling Sheila's common room, the pair ignoring the many derisive remarks aimed at them by the early customers there.
"Go, then," the ranger bade the monk.
"And you will be there?"
Elbryan nodded.
"But it says that I have to go alone," the monk protested.
"To our enemy, you will seem alone," Elbryan assured him, and, after considering this man beside him, after recalling the fact that this one called Nightbird had moved to within five feet of him without his ever knowing it, Avelyn nodded his agreement, took back the note, and started out of town.
All the way, the monk fumbled with his pack of gemstones, then, on sudden intuition, he stored all but three — graphite, hematite, and protective malachite — in the nook of a tree. If his suspicions were correct, this man had come for him, but even more for the stones. If Avelyn carried them with him, and the dangerous warrior managed to wrest them away, then the monk would have no bargaining power with which to save himself and even more important, to save his dear Jill.
At the appointed place, a bare spot on the side of an otherwise full-branched pine tree some twenty feet below the ridge, Avelyn did not have to wait for long.
"I see that you decided to follow my instructions, Brother Avelyn," came an all-too-familiar voice. "Very good."
Quintall! It was Quintall, Avelyn knew at once, and the monk felt as if the very ground were about to. rush up and swallow him — and he almost hoped that it would. The monastery, the Order, was after him, and there would be no corner of the world far enough away, no shadows dark enough to hide him.
"I had little faith that a thief and murderer would be so honorable as to come to the aid of a friend," the voice went on.
Avelyn glanced all about nervously, wondering where Nightbird might be, wondering if the ranger was close enough to hear those words, and if he was, how he might now feel about this man he had chosen to help.
"I have her," the voice teased. "Come to me."
The reminder of Jill's predicament bolstered the monk's failing courage.
Perhaps his Abellican brothers would get him, Avelyn decided, but they would not harm Jill. Slipping the graphite all about the fingers of one anxious hand, the monk followed the direction of the voice, soon discerning the dark rim of a cave opening and the shadowy form of a man inside. He went in as the form retreated, to find a fairly substantial cave, this one chamber — and it seemed plausible to Avelyn that the place had more than one chamber larger than his room at the Howling Sheila.
Quintall stood at the back of the dimly lit cave, leaning easily against the wall, flicking flint against steel until a light caught on the torch he had propped there.
When the light flickered to life, when it fully illuminated the face of the man Avelyn had known all those years, the man who had traveled to Pimaninicuit beside Avelyn and knew the truth of the stones, Avelyn was nearly overcome with grief. All that he had lost his home, his companions, and most important, his faith assaulted Avelyn; all the memories of the good times at St.-Mere-Abelle, his instruction with Master Jojonah, the revelations about the sacred stones, the studying of the charts, the revealed mysteries of the magic, came rushing back to him.
And then they were buried beneath the subsequent memories: the death of Thagraine, of the boy who had foolishly gone onto Pimaninicuit, of all the crew of the Windrunner, of Dansally, of Siherton.
"Quintall," Avelyn muttered.
"No more," the other monk replied.
"Why have you come?" Avelyn asked, hoping against reason that this man, too, had deserted the Order and was as much a renegade as he: Quintall's cackle rocked him. "I am Brother Justice," the man replied harshly, "seat to retrieve what was stolen." Quintall snorted. "I hardly recognized you, fat Avelyn. You have lost all, so it seems, and have more than doubled your size. Always you took your physical training lightly!"
Avelyn steeled himself against the insults. It was true, he had taken on more than a few bad habits, drinking too much and eating too much, and the only exercise or martial training he now performed was in the fights he inspired.
"Did you not believe that we would discover your treachery?" Brother Justice went on. "Did you think that you could murder a master of St.-Mere-Abelle and steal such a treasure, and then walk free for the rest of your days?"
"There is more —"
"There is no more!" Quintall shouted. "You fell my former brother. All that remains for you is the pit of hell. I shall have the stones!"
"And my life," Avelyn reasoned, making no move.
"And your life," cold Brother Justice confirmed. "You forfeited that when Master Siherton went over the wall."
"I forfeited that when I refused to accept the perversion of the Order!"
Avelyn shot back, drawing some courage with words of conviction. "As Brother Pellimar —"
"Silence!" Brother Justice ordered. "Your life is forfeit, I assure you, and no explanation is worth the time to utter. I will have the stones, as well, but if you hand them to me without battle and accept the fate you deserve, then I will let the woman go free. On my word."
Avelyn snorted at that. "Is your word as solid a thing as the word of the masters you serve?" he asked. "Is your gold but an illusion, meant to coax a ship into waters where it might be destroyed?"
Quintall's expression showed that he neither understood nor cared about what Avelyn was saying, showed Avelyn beyond any doubts that the man was single-minded and would not be swayed That left the fat monk two choices: to surrender the stones and his life and hope that Quintall was speaking truthfully, or to fight.
He didn't trust the man, not at all. Quintall would kill him after he got the stones, without doubt; then he would kill Jill, that there would be no witnesses. Avelyn believed that in his heart. He took his hand, and the graphite, out of his pocket, pointing it in Quintall's direction.
"You would forfeit the life of a friend?" Brother Justice asked and then he laughed again.
"I would spare your own life," Avelyn replied, "in exchange for the woman."
The man's laughter continued and it gave Avelyn pause. Quintall above all others understood Avelyn's proficiency with the magic stones. Quintall should have understood that Avelyn could loose a bolt of.' lightning with that piece of graphite that would fry the man where he stood. And yet Quintall, this man who called himself Brother Justice, this extension of St.-Mere-Abelle's vicious order, was not afraid.
Avelyn turned his thoughts away from the man, to the chamber Quintall had chosen for this encounter. He felt the emanations, the subtle pulse of magic, and when he looked then into th
e stone he held, when he realized that the powers of the graphite seemed far, far away, he understood.
"Sunstone," Quintall confirmed, seeing the expression. "There will be little magic used in this cave, foolish Brother Avelyn."
Avelyn chewed his lip, looking for an out. Back in St.-Mere-Abelle, he had seen Master Siherton create a magical dead zone while he and several others had tried to discern the powers of the giant amethyst crystal. Only the most powerful magics could function within such an area, and even then, their powers were greatly diminished.
Avelyn might be able to effect a lightning stroke within this chamber, but he doubted that it would do much more than anger Quintall even more.
Quintall held out his hand. "The stones," he said calmly, "for the woman's life."
"The woman is no part of this," Elbryan declared, slipping into the cave to stand beside Avelyn. "I know not of Brother Avelyn's crimes, but you have offered no charge against the woman."
Quintall's expression grew suddenly grave at the sight of the imposing ranger. "Treachery again!" he growled at Avelyn. "I should have expected as much from the likes of Avelyn Desbris."
"No treachery," Elbryan insisted, "but justice."
"What do you know of it?" Brother Justice insisted. "What do you know of this stranger, this mad friar, who has come into your midst, begging aid? Did he tell you that he was a murderer?"
"And is the woman a murderer?" Elbryan asked calmly.
"No," Avelyn answered when the other monk hesitated.
"A thief ?" asked Elbryan.
"No!" Avelyn said determinedly. "She has committed no crimes. As for my own, I will speak of them, openly and honestly; and when all the account is told, let someone other than a monk of St.-Mere-Abelle serve as judge."
Brother Justice narrowed his eyes and glared at the monk. Of course, he had no intention of allowing any court. He was judge, jury, and executioner, assigned by the Father Abbot. "You were a fool to follow Avelyn to this place,"
he said to Elbryan, "for now your life is forfeit, as is Avelyn's, as is the woman's."
"More justice?" Elbryan started to ask, but his question was lost as Brother Justice spun about, pulling aside some hanging vines that blocked the entrance to another chamber. A flick of the monk's wrist sent a silver item flying and from within the deeper chamber came a gurgled groan.
DemonWars Saga Volume 1 Page 43
