DemonWars Saga Volume 1

by R. A. Salvatore

  “We cannot get to them,” Juraviel said, looking past the ranger to the bonfire, and to the dozens of monsters swarming all about the path ahead of them.

  Nightbird growled and moved to kick the horse’s flanks.

  “No!” Juraviel scolded. “Your run was magnificent and brave, but to go on is purely foolish. And what hope will be left those men if they see Nightbird cut down before them? Over the wall with us, I say! It is the only way!”

  Nightbird studied the scene before him, heard the monsters closing from behind and from the east. He could not disagree, and so he grabbed the reins hard and jerked the horse’s head to the west, toward the barricade and the open night beyond.

  Out in that darkness, only a few feet from the wall, Pony stood perplexed, desperately trying to find some way to improvise. She didn’t know exactly where the ranger was, though she was fairly sure he had come to this edge of town, and didn’t have the time to use the quartz or the hematite to try and find out. Thus, she could not risk a bolt of lightning or any other substantial magical attack.

  But this?

  In her hand she held a diamond, the source of light and of warmth. There was a delicate balance in this gemstone’s magic, Pony understood, for within its depths light and dark were not absolutes, but were, rather, gradations of each other. Thus a diamond could bring forth a brilliant shine or a quiet glow. But what might happen, Pony wondered, if she tilted the balance in the other direction?

  “This is a wonderful time for experiments,” she whispered sarcastically, but even as she finished the thought, she was falling into the magic of the stone, finding that balance, picturing it as a circular plate perched atop the tip of a knitting needle. If she turned the closest edge of that plate up, she would bring forth light.

  She turned it down instead.

  The great fire dimmed; all the torches seemed to flicker and lessen, until they were no more than tiny pinpricks of light. At first Nightbird thought a gust of wind must have swept through—just over his head, he guessed, since he had felt no breeze. It made no sense, though, for what wind might so easily defeat so large a fire as the burning pyre?

  Then it was dark, just dark, and Symphony, heading still for the western wall, hesitated, unable to see the barricade to make the leap.

  “Jilseponie with the stones,” Juraviel reasoned, though the elf feared differently, feared that this darkness might be the trademark of the demon dactyl. Juraviel had met the beast once before, soon after he had left the ranger’s expedition to take some refugees to the safety of Andur’Blough Inninness, and on that occasion the dactyl had been surrounded by a cloud of darkness. Not quite like this one, though; the blackness of the dactyl was more a wave of despair over the heart than a lack of light to the eyes.

  “They are blinded,” Nightbird replied, noting the frantic movements of the monsters along the lane. They could no longer see him, he realized, could no longer see the ground at their feet or the walls before them.

  “As am I,” Juraviel was quick to answer, and that gave the ranger pause. He had thought, or hoped, that Pony had indeed enacted some enchantment to blind his enemies, but why, then, was Juraviel affected, and why was he still able to see?

  “The cat’s-eye,” he reasoned, feeling the gem-set circlet about his head. That had to be the answer, but whatever the case, Nightbird was not going to let this turn of fate go to waste. He communicated with his horse, bade Symphony to turn back down the lane, back toward the fire and the prisoners, and then he guided the stallion with the turquoise, as he had so often done before, letting Symphony “see” through his eyes.

  “Hold on tightly,” Nightbird bade the elf, and Juraviel was willing to comply, since he could not put his bow to use anyway.

  Down the path they charged, Nightbird working hard to keep Symphony veering around scrambling goblins and powries, and to keep far away from the two giants that were feeling about one of the buildings. They came out of the enchanted area of darkness suddenly, without warning, right before the bonfire. Most of the monstrous host was behind them, but gigantic Maiyer Dek was not, the behemoth standing near the fire, waving a huge sword easily in one hand.

  Nightbird managed to look past the giant, to see Roger among the far end of the prisoner line, working furiously on some shackles.

  “I have waited too long for this,” the giant said quietly.

  “As have I,” the ranger answered grimly, needing the bravado to hold this one’s attention, and the gazes of all those nearby.

  “As have I!” came a cry behind the ranger, and Juraviel leaned out to the side and let fly an arrow for Maiyer Dek’s face.

  The giant lurched, but in truth he didn’t even have to, for though Juraviel’s bolt headed straight in, it swerved at the last instant, flying harmlessly to the side.

  “Impossible,” the elf remarked.

  Nightbird groaned softly; he understood, had seen this before. When he had fought Ulg Tik’narn in the woods, for some reason that he could not understand, his arrows and his blows could not strike the powrie.

  Apparently Maiyer Dek was similarly armored. And even if the giant was naked, and without a weapon other than its hands, this one would prove a challenge, Nightbird knew without doubt.

  “Come along, Nightbird!” the giant roared, and it threw back its head and bellowed with mocking laughter.

  That mirth ended abruptly, though, as Maiyer Dek’s comrades started shouting with alarm as all the remaining prisoners, and Roger as well, leaped up and scattered, some pausing to tackle nearby enemies and grab their weapons, others just running full out or climbing the closest barrier.

  “What trick is this?” the huge giant roared, glancing all about. “Forget them!” he howled, pointing at the ranger. “Forget them all, but this one! This is the Nightbird! I will have his head!”

  Nightbird kicked Symphony into a run—not for Maiyer Dek, for the ranger did not think it wise to tangle with that one at this time, but in a circuitous route of the area, trampling monsters, slashing with Tempest, while Juraviel’s bow went to work once more. The situation now demanded confusion, and the two riders and their magnificent stallion answered that call perfectly.

  Nightbird winced as he saw one man chopped down by a powrie hammer, then another squashed by a giant club. But many more were running free, many more were over the wall and scrambling into the cover of the forest. On the top of the wall directly across the fire, Nightbird spotted Roger. The man smiled and offered a salute, and then he was gone.

  Back down the lane the darkness enchantment went away. Nightbird spun Symphony about and charged that way, scattering the confused closest monsters. Then he turned the horse sharply to the east, back into the heart of the town, trying to draw attention to himself and take some of the danger from the fleeing prisoners.

  Around and around they went, Symphony always seeming to be one stride ahead of the pursuit—which included an outraged Maiyer Dek. Juraviel began to sing a taunting song, accenting each verse with a well-aimed bowshot.

  After several minutes, Symphony puffing hard and the monstrous ring tightening about them, the ranger wisely decided that the game was up. He angled the horse for the nearest barricade, the eastern wall, and over they went, into the night. Nightbird thought to go out to the east and south, then swing back to the refugee encampment after a long while. He would have to trust Roger and Pony to get the prisoners away.

  His plans changed, though, when he saw the huge form of Maiyer Dek stepping over the southern wall and then running off into the woods.

  Perhaps he would get his fight with the giant after all.

  “We must keep them guessing,” Juraviel reasoned, lifting off Symphony’s back to fly to a nearby branch.

  “You keep them confused,” Nightbird replied. “I have urgent business to the south.”

  “The giant?” Juraviel asked incredulously. “He has an enchantment about him!”

  “I have seen this magic before,” Nightbird answered. “And I know
how to defeat it. He wishes a fight with me, and so he shall have it!”

  Juraviel offered no argument as the ranger kicked Symphony into a run.

  The pursuit was not organized, was just a mob of scrambling monsters, turning about in circles as often as they moved in any one direction. Many soon gave up the chase altogether, not sure of whom they were supposed to be chasing, and not wanting to get caught out alone against the Nightbird.

  Stubborn Maiyer Dek did not turn back, though, just pressed on, calling for the ranger to come out and face him squarely.

  Following those calls, Nightbird had little trouble in gaining ground on the giant, and he was pleased to discover that the rest of the monstrous pursuit was nowhere to be seen, that the giant leader, in its rage, had struck out alone. The ranger wondered if he should first seek out Pony. “Sunstone,” he muttered, remembering how Avelyn had brought down the magical defenses of Kos-kosio Begulne, and recalling, too, that he and Pony had not retrieved any such magic from Avelyn’s cache, that the sunstone had been lost in the destruction of Aida.

  The ranger looked to his sword, to the gemstone set in the pommel, which was truly a magically constructed mixture of several types of stones, sunstone among them.

  Up ahead the huge fomorian came into view, breaking through the last line of brush and pine trees onto a meadow.

  “Work for me, Tempest,” the ranger whispered, and he brought Symphony around the area, stepping out of the trees on the opposite end of the field when the giant was halfway across.

  Maiyer Dek stopped in his tracks, surprised that the man dared to meet him so openly.

  “You came out here after me,” the ranger explained calmly. “And so you have found me. Let us be done with it.”

  “Done with yourself!” came the thunderous retort. Maiyer Dek glanced all around suspiciously.

  “I am alone,” the ranger assured him. “At least, as far as I know. You were trying to follow me, but I followed you.” He passed along some telepathic instruction to Symphony then, bidding the horse to be ready to come to his side should the sunstone fail. Then he slipped down from the saddle, Tempest in hand, and started a slow and steady walk toward the fomorian.

  Maiyer Dek’s grin widened with each passing step. The giant suspected there would be trouble back in the town—he had thrown the powrie leader into the bonfire, after all—but wouldn’t they all, giants, goblins, and even the stubborn powries, bow down to him when he walked in with Nightbird’s head! And, to Maiyer Dek’s thinking, there was no way he could possibly lose. He wore the spiked bracers, the gift of the demon dactyl, and with their magic, no weapon could strike him.

  So the giant’s surprise was complete, then, when Nightbird rushed across the last fifteen feet, fell into a balanced skip and lunged fast, stabbing him hard in the belly, the glowing Tempest tearing through clothes and leather girdle and slipping nearly half its blade length into Maiyer Dek’s abdomen.

  Nightbird pulled the blade right out and slashed across, smacking Maiyer Dek across the kneecap. Then, as the giant’s leg went predictably wide, the ranger darted right between the treelike limbs, falling into a headlong roll as Maiyer Dek’s huge sword swished harmlessly behind him.

  He came up in a half turn, legs tucked under him, and leaped back at the giant as it started to turn about, scoring yet another hit, this one deep into the giant’s hamstring. Then he ran out the back side of the behemoth, into the clear again, spinning on his heel to face Maiyer Dek squarely.

  The giant was clearly confused and in pain, one huge hand holding tight to its spilling guts.

  “You believed that your demon armor would defeat my attacks,” the ranger said. “And so the gift of Bestesbulzibar worked against you, Maiyer Dek, for my magic, the magic of the goodly God, is stronger by far!”

  In response, Maiyer Dek roared and charged.

  Nightbird leaped straight ahead, sword up as if he meant to block the attack. He could not hope to stop the sheer power of Maiyer Dek’s sword strike, and he knew it, and so at the last moment he leaped out to the side, then charged in behind the swish of the sword, stabbing again at the giant’s wounded abdomen.

  Maiyer Dek brought the great pommel of his sword in tight fast enough to partially defeat the attack, and then, in a fluid movement, snapped that sword arm out wide, pommel clipping a dodging Nightbird on his already bruised shoulder and sending him into a roll.

  The ranger came up in perfect balance, but truly his right shoulder throbbed from the heavy hit, and Maiyer Dek, recognizing a slight advantage here, was quick in pursuit, but this time with his sword at the ready, and not swinging wildly.

  The giant put out a lazy swing, testing the ranger’s defenses. Tempest banged hard against the huge blade, once and then again, forcing it wide.

  “You move your skinny blade well,” the giant remarked.

  “Except when it is embedded in your belly,” the ranger replied.

  Predictably, Maiyer Dek came on ferociously, sword slashing across at just the right height to take the ranger’s head from his shoulders.

  But Nightbird was no longer standing, had dropped to his knees, then came up as the blade flashed overhead. Left, right, left went Tempest, then in a straight-ahead thrust, once and again, and then a third time, angled up for the abdomen once more.

  Down went the ranger in a desperate dive, the giant reversing its swing for a sudden backhand, and this time with the blade so low that Nightbird had to fall flat on the ground.

  Maiyer Dek rushed ahead, lifted his massive booted foot and stamped down, thinking to grind Nightbird into the dirt.

  The ranger went over in a roll, then again as the giant continued to stamp at him. Then a third time, and when he came over, he put one leg under him. As Maiyer Dek lifted his foot and turned it yet again, the ranger sprang up, bracing Tempest, pommel in both hands, against his breast, driving it hard into the bottom of Maiyer Dek’s foot before it began its downward momentum.

  The blade gored through the leather as if it were paper and drove upward, into flesh and bone. Maiyer Dek tried to pull away, but the ranger stayed with him, driving on.

  All the ground shook when Maiyer Dek fell over backward, hitting with a tremendous jolt. The giant felt the ranger then, leaping atop his thigh, running up his torso. He tried to reach out with his empty hand, but Tempest slashed away, taking one finger at the knuckle and gashing the others.

  Nightbird sprang to the giant’s massive chest, then leaped ahead, landing right above the behemoth’s shoulder, slashing hard with Tempest at the side of Maiyer Dek’s neck. Then he leaped again, into a backward roll, came up to his feet and ran up above the prone giant, narrowly avoiding the great sword as Maiyer Dek rolled about.

  Nightbird was twenty feet away when the giant staggered to its feet. The ranger noted the blood pouring freely down the side of Maiyer Dek’s neck, and knew that the outcome was decided.

  “Ah, but you’ll pay for this, little rat!” Maiyer Dek spouted. “I’ll cut you in half! I’ll—” The giant stopped and put its torn hand up to its neck, then brought the hand out in front of its face, staring incredulously at the complete bloodstain. Stunned, Maiyer Dek looked back to the ranger, to see him mounting Symphony, his sword in its sheath.

  “You are dead, Maiyer Dek,” Nightbird declared. “The only thing that could save you is the magic of the goodly God, and He, I fear, will show little mercy to one who has committed so many terrible crimes.”

  Nightbird turned his horse and rode away.

  Maiyer Dek moved to follow, but stopped, again lifting his hand, and then, when he discerned that the blood was verily spouting from his neck, he grabbed at the wound tightly, trying to stem the flow, then ran off for Caer Tinella.

  He felt the cold creeping into his body before he ever got off the field, felt the touch of death and saw the darkness growing before his eyes.

  CHAPTER 14

  Right and Wrong

  “Oh, but by yer pardon, master sir,” the woman stammere
d. “I’m just not knowing what ye’re wanting from poor old Pettibwa.”

  Father Abbot Markwart eyed the woman suspiciously, knowing that she was not as dim-witted as she was pretending. It made sense, of course, for she was obviously frightened. She, her husband Graevis, and their son Grady, had been pulled from Fellowship Way, their small inn down in the poorer section of Palmaris.

  The Father Abbot made a mental note to speak with Brothers Youseff and Dandelion concerning their rough tactics. Using brute force and threats instead of subtle coercion, they had put the three on their guard, and now garnering any information might prove more difficult indeed. In fact, had he not arrived on the scene to oversee the arrest, Markwart feared that his two overly rough lackeys might have seriously injured the three, might even have killed the son, Grady.

  “Be at ease, Madame Chilichunk,” Markwart said with a phony grin. “We are searching for one of our own, that is all, and we have reason to believe that he might be in the company of your daughter.”

  “Cat?” the woman asked suddenly, eagerly, and Markwart knew that he had hit a chord, though he had no idea of who this “Cat” might be.

  “Your daughter,” he said again. “The one you adopted, who was orphaned in the Timberlands.”

  “Cat,” Pettibwa said earnestly. “Cat-the-Stray, that’s what we called her, ye know.”

  “I do not know the name,” the Father Abbot admitted.

  “Jilly, then,” the woman clarified. “That’s her real name, part of it anyway. Oh, but I’d love to be seein’ me Jilly again!”

  Jilly.Markwart rolled the name over in his thoughts.Jilly … Jilseponie… Pony. Yes, he decided. It fit nicely.

  “If you help us,” he said pleasantly, “you may indeed see her again. We have every reason to believe that she is alive and well.”

  “And in the Kingsmen,” the woman added.

  Markwart hid his frustration well. If Pettibwa and her family knew no more than that old news, they wouldn’t be of much help.