DemonWars Saga Volume 1

by R. A. Salvatore

  Elbryan continued to stare, not knowing what to expect. He feared that Braumin would ask about the stolen gemstones, Pony's gemstones —and rightfully so, by Elbryan's thinking!—and then he would calmly have to put the man off.

  "My friends and I are out here alone," Braumin stated. "By deserting St.-Mere-Abelle, we have severed our ties to the Abellican Church."

  "That much seems obvious," Elbryan replied. "Though, given your Father Abbot's thirst for vengeance, I would say that you must hope and pray that those ties are truly severed."

  Braumin managed to grin briefly at the ranger's sarcasm. "Severed on our part, at least," he clarified. "And thus we have become men without a home —and worse, Nightbird, we have become men without a purpose."

  "You have found friends here in Dundalis and anonymity in the vastness of the Timberlands forests," the ranger replied. "I do not believe that Shamus and the soldiers knew who you were, had any idea at all that you were of the Church. And so, perhaps you have found a quiet existence. There are worse fates."

  "True, but do not forget that we are men of purpose, men who have devoted all our lives, from the last days of childhood, to the study of God," Braumin explained. "This was our calling, a divine calling, we all believe, for only such deep-rooted convictions will allow one to attain the levels of piety necessary even to enter St.-Mere-Abelle."

  The ranger's eyes widened at that prideful declaration.

  "I speak humbly," Braumin quickly added, "and speak only the truth. Absolute dedication is required of any would-be student of the Abellican Order."

  "And yet you deserted that Order."

  "Because we learned the truth of Father Abbot Dalebert Markwart's interpretation of the Abellican Order," Braumin said, his voice rising. He glanced around nervously and quickly lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Because Master Jojonah taught us that, as your friend Avelyn Desbris taught it to him."

  The ranger had no argument; he felt Avelyn had also taught him much about the truth of God.

  "We did not desert the Order," Brother Braumin asserted. "We followed the true spirit of the Abellicans, a journey that forced us from St.-Mere-Abelle."

  "And so you have come all the way to Dundalis," Elbryan reasoned, "and yet you feel that your journey is not complete, that the simple life of this region will not fulfill your spiritual needs."

  Now it was Braumin's turn to stop and stare, for the ranger's blunt assertion had taken him by surprise.

  "Could you not build a church here and teach the song of God as you hear it?" the ranger asked.

  "And how long would such a church be allowed to survive, so close to Honce-the-Bear and the Abellican Order?" Braumin asked skeptically.

  "Then it is fear and not purpose that will push you further."

  The monk's face screwed up with confusion, and then, as he figured out that the ranger was teasing him, he suddenly laughed. "It was fear that drove us from St.-Mere-Abelle," he admitted after a moment, "and yet, in a way, we were all more afraid of leaving than staying."

  Elbryan nodded. "You said you had a request," the ranger said. "What would you have me do?"

  Braumin took a deep breath, yet another hint to Elbryan that this request was no small thing.

  "I would have you lead my friends and me to the Barbacan," he said quickly. Elbryan wondered which frightened Braumin more —asking for help or stating his intentions out loud.

  "The Barbacan?" the ranger echoed incredulously.

  "I have seen the glory of Avelyn's tomb," Brother Braumin said sincerely. "I know I must go there now; Brother Dellman, feels he, too, must return there. The others must see it; it is a pilgrimage necessary if we five are truly to become of one mind and one purpose."

  "And that purpose is . . . ?"

  "I hope the pilgrimage will show me," Braumin admitted.

  "The Barbacan is still a hostile land," Elbryan pointed out. "The destruction of the dactyl and the defeat of the monstrous army has done little to tame the northland. Perhaps I could get you there, but then what? That you might stay only a matter of days, or even hours, then take the road back to Dundalis again?"

  "Perhaps," Braumin said honestly, "perhaps not. I believe in my heart that Avelyn will show us our true course. He gave his life for the good of the world and in death he reached for the heavens. There is something magical about that place, something healing and godly. I felt that keenly when I viewed the tomb."

  "More than three hundred miles of wild land is a long way to travel in hopes of inspiration," the ranger said dryly.

  "Yet it is the only road before us," Braumin replied. "I know that I am asking much of you, but I do so in the name of Avelyn, and in the hope that he, and Jojonah, have not died in vain."

  That set the ranger back. He wasn't sure that this journey to the Barbacan would accomplish anything more than getting them all killed or sending them all running back to Dundalis battered and humbled. Still, there seemed a greater measure of sincerity in the man, and a huge determination. Braumin had lived as a monk for years and understood the inner working of the Abellican Church far better than Elbryan ever could. Could Elbryan deny the possibility that such inspiration might come to a man who had willingly given his life to the search for God and good? Besides, the ranger, too, had seen where Avelyn was buried shortly after the explosion. Though he understood that Avelyn had extended his arm upward hoping to keep the pouch of sacred gemstones and Tempest safe, there was something mystical —or at least a very fortunate coincidence—that Avelyn's extended arm had somehow reached above the destruction.

  "You understand the dangers?" the ranger asked.

  "I understand the futility of not going," Braumin replied, "for then we are dead, all five of us, spiritually if not physically. And perhaps worse than physical death is the notion of spiritual impotence, of our voices silenced under the smothering blanket of Father Abbot Markwart."

  "And the Barbacan will change this?"

  Braumin gave a shrug. "I know that I must journey to the grave of Avelyn, and so must my companions, and we shall go, with or without Nightbird."

  The ranger didn't doubt him. "Progos is but half gone," Elbryan reasoned. "Winter is here —you have seen her fury, and I assure you that the snow which fell the night before Shamus Kilronney arrived was no unusual storm for this part of the world. I do not know when the trails north will be clear. And even if they are clear, know that the wind among the mountains ringing Aida and Avelyn's grave could freeze the blood in your body quickly."

  "The dangers are not ignored," Braumin assured him, "nor will they stop us."

  Elbryan looked hard at the man, at his determination in the face of potential disaster, and he was impressed. "I will speak with Bradwarden," he offered. "The centaur knows the northern terrain better than I and has animal friends who might better give us some idea of what we will encounter."

  "We?" Braumin noted hopefully.

  "No promise, Brother Braumin," the ranger responded, but it seemed clear to both of them that Nightbird would guide the group. That notion struck the ranger, for he had no intention or desire to ever return to the forlorn remnants of Aida —indeed, a little over a week before, until his strange dream about Pony, he had thought his road was in the opposite direction! No, he could not call it a dream. Pony had come to him in his sleep—he knew that without doubt—and their roads could not cross again just yet.

  Was he now thinking of going so far north out of spite, out of some anger at Pony? He did not have the answer, but he realized that he needed to sit down and figure it out before committing to the journey.

  "You should go," Roger asserted, walking at the ranger's side through the dark forest. "These are good men, every one."

  Elbryan gave no reply. He had already explained to Roger all the problems of such a journey —not the least was that if he left he would be abdicating his responsibilities to Tomas Gingerwart for a month or more.

  "I worked in St.-Mere-Abelle," Roger went on, "and I can attest to th
e courage Brother Braumin and his companions showed in leaving the place. What they did to Jojonah —"

  Elbryan held up his hand; he had heard it all before —in the last few minutes actually. "Let us learn what Bradwarden thinks of such a journey," he said. "I do not doubt Brother Braumin's sincerity, or even his judgment in claiming that he and his friends should go to Mount Aida. If I did, I would not even be talking with Bradwarden this night. But there are larger issues to be considered."

  "Pony," Roger remarked.

  "That is one," the ranger admitted, and he ducked under a branch and around a chestnut tree, to the edge of a clearing opposite the centaur. "And the season is another."

  "Ye're late," Bradwarden said, his tone grim.

  A moment later, catching a rustle in the tree above, the ranger understood the source of his friend's discontent. As he focused his gaze on the shadows above, a pair of elves moved down and into view, dropping to the lowest branch. The ranger's eyes widened.

  "Why do you seem so surprised, Nightbird?" said the female of the pair, Tiel'marawee by name —or nickname, for the ranger did not know her real name. Indeed, that true name had been lost to the ages, Juraviel had told a younger Elbryan during his days in Andur'Blough Inninness. To all the Touel'alfar, she was Tiel'marawee, "songbird," a title most fitting for one whose melodious voice was legendary even among the beautiful voices of the elves.

  "I had thought our alliance ended," the ranger replied grimly, "with the Touel'alfar turned down other roads. It has been many days."

  "A long while only to the impatience of a human," said Ni'estiel, assuming a more defiant posture on the branch. After an uncomfortable moment in which the elf and ranger locked simmering stares, Ni'estiel stood on the branch and gave a sweeping bow, smiling from ear to ear.

  The ranger didn't smile in return. "As you say," Elbryan conceded. "And yet, the children of Caer'alfar did not see their way to warn Nightbird of the impending goblin attack, and did little to fend off those monsters, though their bows would have proven invaluable."

  "Or they did not know that Nightbird would be among the soldiers," Tiel'marawee replied.

  "And that excuses ..." Elbryan started to ask, but he stopped, reminding himself of the true nature of these creatures. Elves were not humans, however Elbryan might wish to pretend otherwise. Their view of the world did not correspond to those attributes —compassion and community—that Elbryan would seek in humans. Still, the ranger could not completely excuse the lack of warning and aid, for the choice of allies among humans and goblins should not be a difficult one, from any point of view. "Four men died," he said grimly, "and another three were grievously ..." He let it drop again as he considered his audience, as he realized that the expressions of both elves had not changed, would not change. The life of a human was not important to a being that would likely outlive twenty generations of men.

  And these two, Tiel'marawee and Ni'estiel, if Elbryan remembered them correctly from his time in Andur'Blough Inninness, were among the most dispassionate of the elven people with regard to n'Touel'alfar, anyone who was not elven. That thought struck him profoundly then, for, that being the case, why were these two the ones to come forward and speak with him? Where was Juraviel? And where Lady Dasslerond?

  The ranger didn't like the implications.

  "Well, Nightbird was among the soldiers, and he, too, might have been slain," the ranger said at last, thinking to end that part of the discussion.

  Ni'estiel wouldn't let him be done with it so easily. "And if he had been slain by mere goblins, then perhaps he would have shown that he was not worthy of the name Tai'marawee, the name the Touel'alfar gave to him with confidence," the elf said with a sarcastic laugh, and Tiel'marawee joined in the mirth; but it seemed to Elbryan as if the pair were only half kidding.

  "But that is past now, and we need look to the road ahead," Tiel'marawee remarked in a leading manner.

  Elbryan turned a surprised look on Bradwarden. "They know?"

  "Elfy ears," the centaur replied.

  "You consider a journey to the Barbacan," Ni'estiel stated flatly, "to the place of the dactyl demon's destruction."

  "To the tomb of Brother Avelyn Desbris," Roger said solemnly.

  The elves didn't seem much impressed.

  "And how do the Touel'alfar view such a journey?" Elbryan asked.

  "Why would the Touel'alfar care?" asked Ni'estiel.

  "Your road is your own to choose, Nightbird," Tiel'marawee added. "We will help where we may."

  "And if ye so choose," Bradwarden added dryly.

  "There is always that," admitted Ni'estiel.

  "Have you been able to determine the security of the region?" the ranger asked Bradwarden. He had spoken with the centaur earlier that day, explaining Brother Braumin's request and also reminding Bradwarden of his duty to Tomas Gingerwart and his promise to help with the rebuilding of the Timberland towns.

  "No sign o' the goblins, or any other monster scum in the area," said the centaur. "Them that got free o' the battle kept on runnin', by me own thinkin'."

  "Not a sign of potential trouble anywhere in the region," Tiel'marawee added.

  "And we're to be believin' yerself?" the centaur asked.

  But it was Elbryan who answered, stating firmly that he did believe the elves. He understood them, and so did Bradwarden, if the centaur could only look past his present anger at this pair. While the Touel'alfar might on occasion stand by and allow humans to be slaughtered —they had done so, for example, during the destruction of the original Dundalis, when Elbryan's own family had been killed—but they would never favor goblins and other monsters over humans. If these two said now that they saw no signs of monsters in the area, then Elbryan believed them completely—and so did Bradwarden, as the centaur admitted with a derisive snort and a wave of his huge arms.

  "Then what am I to do?" Elbryan asked. "Truly I do not desire to journey to the Barbacan —not ever again—but these men have placed a great trust in me by simply coming to the northland in search of me. And they are disciples of Avelyn, heart and soul. Of that I have no doubt."

  "Then you owe your dead friend this favor, at least," Roger said hopefully.

  "I been thinkin' that a journey to the north might not be a bad thing," Bradwarden offered. "Besides, I ain't seen this grave everyone's been talkin' of."

  "Nor have I," said Roger.

  Elbryan nodded as each of them was speaking, his road coming clearer before him.

  The centaur looked up at the elves. "And what o' ye two?" he asked.

  "We may go," said Tiel'marawee.

  "Or we may not," Ni'estiel quickly added.

  They had a private agenda here, Elbryan understood, one given them by Lady Dasslerond and one, he believed, that concerned him. He still couldn't understand why Lady Dasslerond hadn't come out to speak with him personally on so important a matter. Or Juraviel. . . . where was his dearest friend among the Touel'alfar at this critical time? A disturbing thought crossed his mind then: perhaps Lady Dasslerond, Juraviel, and the others hadn't followed the monks to the north —perhaps these two elves alone had come to the Timberlands.

  "All we're needin' to do now is wait for the weather to allow it," Bradwarden remarked. "And I'm thinkin' that to be a long and frustratin' wait!"

  The ranger didn't disagree in the least. He knew what winter could mean in the Timberlands: days, weeks of sitting in the dim light of a low-burning fire, using only the wood needed to keep the room warm enough for survival, staring at the bare walls and at the companions who had long begun to grate on one's nerves.

  The ranger and Roger turned back for the town then, moving to a heavy tent pegged to the southern wall of the large meetinghouse. Braumin and the other five monks were already inside, some sitting on their hands, all looking very nervous.

  "If we can get the agreement of Tomas Gingerwart and the soldiers that the area is secure, I will lead you to the Barbacan," Elbryan announced at once, dispelling the tension.
There came a chorus of quiet cheers and excited whispers.

  "Three hundred miles and more," the ranger warned them, his tone grim, "a longer and more difficult trek than the one that brought you from Palmaris to this place."

  "Not so difficult," remarked the quiet Brother Mullahy, his voice barely audible.

  "Nor so long," added an almost giddy Brother Viscenti.

  "We should know more of the disposition of the immediate area by midday tomorrow," Elbryan assured Brother Braumin, "that we might begin our preparations."

  "And when shall we leave?" asked an impatient Brother Castinagis.

  "When the wind will not kill us and the snow will not bury us," the ranger replied firmly. "The beginning of Bafway, perhaps, or the end of it."

  All the eager monks looked disappointed by that proclamation, but the ranger would not be swayed by their foolish hopes. "To leave prematurely would bring only disaster," he said. "You have seen the snow and heard and felt the bite of the wind. Yet we are south here, far south, of Avelyn's grave, and at a much lower elevation. Up there, in the north among the mountains, the snow lies deeper, and the bite of the wind will kill the strongest of men. Do not doubt my words. The season has been mild thus far, and if that continues, we may begin our trek shortly before the turn of Bafway. But no sooner —even if the sun came out tomorrow with such strength that we stripped off our clothes and basked in its warmth!"

  With that, the ranger bowed and left the tent; but Roger did not follow, preferring to stay and share the occasion with his newfound friends, a moment of happiness that could not be dulled too much by the ranger's last grim warning.

  Elbryan started for Tomas Gingerwart's tent, but changed his mind. Tomas wouldn't be difficult to persuade; the more important ally in this matter was the man who would likely replace him as primary guardian of the new settlers.

  He found Shamus awake, strolling about the perimeter of the Kingsmen's camp, his eyes raised to the stars, his hands clasped behind his back, his face a mask of concern. That mask changed, but far from convincingly, when he noted Elbryan's approach.