The dactyl laughed at him, mocking his words and his courage, making him feel like an insignificant thing. "Why do you believe that I want claim to such worthless things as your heart and soul, elf ?" the demon growled. "Your heart, perhaps," Bestesbulzibar teased, "that I might feast upon it, savoring the sweet blood of a Touel'alfar."
As he spoke, Bestesbulzibar slowly began to circle the fire, and Juraviel moved as well, keeping the embers between him and the demon — though when he thought about it, the elf realized that the flames, were they blazing high, would prove no barrier at all to the creature of the fiery pits of the underworld.
"Why are you out, Touel'alfar?" Bestesbulzibar asked. "Why are you away from your valley — yes, I know of your valley. I have seen many things since I have awakened, foolish elf, and I know that your kind is diminished greatly, that your world is smaller now, a mere canyon in a world that is grown too wide and too human. So why are you away, elf? What is it that brings you so far from home?"
"The darkness of the demon dactyl," Juraviel answered firmly. "Your shadow has roused the Touel'alfar, foul beast, for you are not unknown to us."
"But what shall you do about Bestesbulzibar?" the dactyl roared suddenly, and sudden, too, was the monster's rush, a quick burst right across the fire, scattering embers in a blinding shower. Juraviel struck fast and hard with his small sword, scoring a solid hit, but that hardly, slowed the great beast whose armored hide held even the elvish blade at bay, whose clawed hand slapped the sword from Juraviel's hand while the demon's other hand grabbed the elf by the throat, lifting him easily up into the air.
"Oh," Bestesbulzibar moaned, as if in ecstasy. "I could tear it out, elf," the demon teased, running the claws of his free hand over Juraviel's tiny chest,
"and hold it up before your eyes, biting into its red flesh even as you watched it beat its last."
"I do not fear you," Juraviel gasped with what little breath, remained to him.
"Then you are a fool," Bestesbulzibar replied. "Do you know what comes after life, elf ? Do you know what awaits you?" The demon laughed wickedly, , bellowing thunderously into the still night.
"No torment. . . " Juraviel gasped.
"For you are true of heart," Bestesbulzibar mimicked evilly, and then the beast laughed again all the louder. "No torment," the fiend agreed. "Nothing! Do you hear? Nothing, elf. There is no afterlife for a miserable wretch such as thee! Only unknowing blackness. Savor your precious seconds; foolish elf. Beg me to let you see one more dawn."
Juraviel said nothing. He tried hard to hold to his faith, whose precepts insisted that a good life would indeed be rewarded in the afterlife. He considered Garshan Inodiel, who was God to the elves, a god of justice and promise, not unlike the god of the humans. But in the face of the darkness that was Bestesbulzibar, Belli'mar Juraviel knew despair.
"But why are you out?" the demon asked again, giving a sidelong, scrutinizing, glance at the elf. "And what do you know?"
Juraviel closed his eyes and said nothing. He expected to be tortured, to have his limbs torn from his body, perhaps, until he confessed all he knew, until he betrayed his friends who had gone to the Barbacan. No, I must not think of that! the elf told himself firmly, and he turned his thoughts once more to Garshan Inodiel, trying to blanket everything else under the serenity of his God.
But then, in perhaps the worst torture of all' to the valiant Touel'alfar, Juraviel felt the encroachment, felt the dark and cold presence of Bestesbulzibar creeping into his thoughts, scouring his mind. He opened his eyes in horror to see the demon's contorted features, flaming eyes closed as Bestesbulzibar concentrated, using his magic to scour the elf's brain.
Juraviel fought valiantly, but he was overmatched. The more he tried not to think of Elbryan and the others, the more they were revealed to Bestesbulzibar. The demon would get what it wanted, he feared, would devour him, and then would be off to devour his friends!
"Avelyn," Bestesbulzibar whispered.
"No!" Juraviel cried, and he kicked out with all his strength, his foot slamming the demon right in the eye. The wriggling elf broke free and tumbled to the ground. He tried to scamper away, but Bestesbulzibar towered over him, looking down, laughing, teasing.
"You do not belong here," came a sudden, melodious voice, one that caught and held the demon's attention. Both Bestesbulzibar and Juraviel turned to see Lady Dasslerond come out of the brush, flanked by a dozen other elves, bows and swords in hand.
"You live still!" the demon howled at the sight of the Lady of Caer'alfar, an elf he had known centuries before.
"And you walk Corona again," the Lady replied, "and surely all of the world weeps at the sight."
"Surely all of the world should!" Bestesbulzibar retorted. "Where is your Terranen Dinoniel now, Dasslerond? Who will stand before me this time?" As he spoke the last, he turned his ominous gaze upon Juraviel, and the poor elf shook with the fear that he had given his friends away.
"Who, Dasslerond?" the demon insisted. "You or this pitiful elf that cowers before me?" Bestesbulzibar looked all around at the encircling sprites, and laughed more loudly than ever. "All of you together, then? Well done, I say; and let us commence. Better for me that the nuisance of the Touel'alfar be done with here and now!"
"I'll not fight you," Lady Dasslerond replied coolly. "Not here." That said, she held aloft a huge green gemstone, shining with power, its illumination turning everything in the area a shade of green — everything except Bestesbulzibar, for the shadow of the demon could not be overcome by any light.
"What trick is this?"` the fiend protested. "What foolish —" The words were lost in the demon's throat as all the world began to shift and change, features blending together in a greenish mist and then growing clear again, crystalline under the stars, bright and beautiful.
They were in Andur'Blough Inninness, — all of them. Lady Dasslerond and Juraviel, all the elves and the refugees, and Bestesbulzibar.
"What trick?" the fiend roared, suddenly angry, suddenly recognizing that he should not be in this place, the very heart of elvish power.
"I invite you to my home, creature of shadow," Lady Dasslerond answered, her voice edged with weariness from the tremendous exertion of power it had taken to transport the group — or, in effect, to change the very ground beneath their feet. "You cannot defeat me here, not now."
The demon growled and considered the words, felt the strength of the Lady and her fellows in this, their domain. "But soon," Bestesbulzibar promised.
The Lady held aloft the green gemstone, the heart of Andur'Blough Inninness, now shining fiercely.
Bestesbulzibar's unearthly roar, one of pain and outrage, stole her breath. "So you saved the pitiful elf and the humans he escorted," the fiend sneered. "What good will it prove when all the world is mine?" Out came the black wings and the demon dactyl lifted away to the hum of elvish bows, the melodious tumult of elvish insults.
Any true joy felt by the Touel'alfar at the demon dactyl's retreat was short-lived, though. By necessity, Lady Dasslerond had allowed Bestesbulzibar to tread upon this, their most sacred and secret of places, and though the fiend was correct, Bestesbulzibar could not yet face them all in Andur'Blough Inninness, they had done nothing to diminish the demon.
Juraviel joined Lady Dasslerond as she stood over the spot from where Bestesbulzibar had departed. The ground that had been under the fiend's clawed feet was blackened and torn.
"A wound that will not heal," the Lady said despondently.
Juraviel knelt to better inspect the ground. He could smell the rot there: the earth itself was tainted from the fiend's presence.
"A festering wound that will slowly spread," the Lady admitted. "We must tend the ground about this spot vigilantly, for if ever we fail to counter with our magic and our song the rot that is Bestesbulzibar, it will grow within our valley."
Juraviel sighed and looked hopelessly at his Lady, his guilt obvious upon his fair face.
"The dactyl grows strong,
" she said, not accusingly.
"I have failed."
Lady Dasslerond looked at him incredulously.
"The demon knows," Juraviel admitted. "The demon knows of Elbryan, of Avelyn, and the plan."
"Then pity Elbryan," the Lady replied. "Or hold faith in Nightbird and in Brother Avelyn, whose heart is true. They went north to do battle with Bestesbulzibar, and so they shall."
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.
CHAPTER 49
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 paten, 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 h 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.
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