DemonWars Saga Volume 1

by R. A. Salvatore

  She stumbled and toppled, tried to catch herself by willing her wings to beat furiously. But then she was down on the ground in a heap, trying to orient herself enough to get back up in the tree. But it was over, she realized, when she saw the tiger steadily approaching. Even if she managed to right herself and leap high, the cat would spring and catch her in mid-flight. Now she was to die, and a great sadness washed over her for the centuries she would not see, and even more for her failure to warn her lady, for the coming tragedy might well overwhelm the fragile world of the Touel'alfar.

  The cat charged. Tiel'marawee closed her golden eyes.

  She heard a last growl, then felt a rush from the side —powerful, thun derous. She opened her eyes to see the tiger spinning away. Powerful legs, equine legs, tore the earth next to her; Symphony neighed loudly, urging her up. When she could not find the strength to mount, the horse came down low.

  The tiger leaped ahead, and so did Symphony, taking a vicious swipe on the flank. The chase was on. Tiel'marawee held on for all her life as Symphony thundered through the trees, cutting close corners.

  De'Unnero gave good chase, but only for a short distance, for the cat could not match the pace of the great stallion. So the Bishop tried a different tack. He came out of his tiger form and sent his thoughts to the stallion through the hematite —and found an easy connection through the turquoise that was set in Symphony's breast.

  He thought he had them both —and what a sweet meal they would make!—but Symphony was no ordinary horse, was possessed of an intelligence beyond his equine form. All De'Unnero received as a response to his call was a wall of anger.

  Frustrated, the Bishop turned and ran for Ni'estiel, hoping that the fleeing elf might be foolish enough to turn the stallion around and try to rescue him.

  Tiel'marawee knew her duty and, besides, she wasn't even in control of the horse; Symphony moved of his own will.

  The sight of Ni'estiel, still alive but delirious from pain and weakness, brought a wicked smile to the Bishop. He shifted back into his tiger form, smelled the blood, and fell over the semiconscious elf in a tearing and biting frenzy.

  Bradwarden found the stallion, sweating and exhausted, but still moving purposefully toward the encampment some time later. Tiel'marawee lay unconscious across Symphony's back, the horse working hard to keep her there.

  "By the god Dinoniel," the centaur muttered, seeing the garish wound. He immediately pulled the magical red band from his arm, the elven healing band that had kept him alive for weeks when he was trapped beneath the rubble of Mount Aida, and tied it tightly about Tiel'marawee's arm, though he had no idea if the magic would work on wounds inflicted before the armband was placed on the victim.

  He was relieved to see the blood flow slow a bit, but he seriously doubted that any healing had come in time to save the poor creature. He lifted her from Symphony's back, cradling her in his strong arms, and headed for the camp, the stallion at his side.

  Elbryan's feelings upon seeing her came as a mix of agony and amazement . What creature could have done this to a Touel'alfar? And even more disturbing, where was Ni'estiel?

  "She's said not a word since I came upon her and yer horse," Bradwarden explained. "Me thinkin's that Symphony pulled her from whatever enemy found her."

  The ranger looked to his horse, found that connection through the magical turquoise set in Symphony's breast, and nodded his head. And then his fears grew as Symphony imparted the image of a great and powerful cat, one that matched perfectly the description Roger had given him of the cat that had murdered Baron Bildeborough.

  "Oh, if only I had stolen a soul stone from the abbey!" Brother Viscenti lamented as he and the others came upon the scene.

  Elbryan, too —and not for the first time—regretted that he had not accepted that one stone from Pony when she had turned her road to the south.

  "Will she live?" Roger asked, as Brother Braumin, skilled in healing arts even without gemstone aid, moved over the elf, trying to make her more comfortable. Not understanding the nature of the armband, he started to untie it, but Bradwarden and Elbryan quickly corrected him.

  "She's looking a bit better," Bradwarden offered hopefully.

  "But her wounds are from the claws of a cat," the ranger explained. "Dirty wounds."

  "A cat?" Roger asked, eyes widening.

  Elbryan looked at him hard and nodded. "A great orange cat, striped in black," the ranger explained. Roger's knees weakened and he nearly toppled, except that Brother Castinagis was at his side, supporting him.

  "Like the one that killed Baron Bildeborough," the ranger confirmed.

  "Bishop," came a weak voice from below, as Tiel'marawee tried to explain. "Bishop . . . tiger."

  Elbryan bent low. "Bishop?" he asked, but Tiel'marawee's eyes had closed once more and she lay very still.

  "De'Unnero," Brother Braumin explained. "The Bishop of Palmaris. He is known for the use of the tiger's paw, a potent gem that can transform an arm into the powerful paw of the great cat."

  "More than the arm," Roger insisted.

  "He is here?" the ranger said incredulously, looking up to scan the forest as if he expected the tiger to leap out at them at that very moment.

  "And we canno' be doubtin' his reason for comin'," Bradwarden remarked.

  "He's searching for us," Brother Braumin reasoned. "We have brought danger to you by asking for your help."

  The ranger shook his head. "I suspect that I am more his target than you and your friends," he stated.

  "Any Pony more than yerself," Bradwarden added, a particularly unsettling thought for Elbryan. If De'Unnero had come out here looking for him, did that mean that the man had found Pony in Palmaris, had perhaps tortured her into revealing his whereabouts?

  "I must find him," Elbryan said suddenly, still staring into the forest, his fears for Pony and his unborn child growing.

  "I'm thinkin' that he's to find yerself soon enough," Bradwarden said dryly.

  "What do we do?" asked Brother Braumin.

  "We keep goin' the way we're goin'," Bradwarden answered before the ranger could interject his thoughts. The centaur was wise enough to understand that Elbryan was thinking of his lover then, and was likely thinking of turning back for Palmaris. And that, to Bradwarden's thinking, would be a tremendous mistake.

  "Ye told me yerself just this night that the elves're with her in Palmaris," he said to calm the ranger. "Suren they're to protect her as well as ye could."

  The ranger wasn't so sure of that, wasn't sure that the elves, given their obvious negative feelings about Pony's learning bi'nelle dasada, would even want to protect her. He shook that thought away, though, and reminded himself that the Touel'alfar, however different their viewpoint might be, were not enemies but allies.

  "Or have ye gotten so full o' yerself that ye think yerself better than the likes o' Lady Dasslerond and Belli'mar Juraviel, and all th' others put together?" Bradwarden pressed, a ridiculous notion but one that made Elbryan remember the truth of the power of the Touel'alfar.

  "We go on," the ranger agreed, "but we keep a tighter scouting pattern."

  "And what of the little one?" Bradwarden asked, looking down at poor Tiel'marawee. "I'm not thinkin' she's ready for travel right now."

  "I am not even certain that she will live out the day," Brother Braumin admitted.

  "We will wait for her," the loyal ranger said without hesitation.

  "One way or another," Brother Castinagis quietly remarked.

  "And I will go out with Symphony to find Ni'estiel," the ranger added, ignoring the harsh comment, though he knew that it hadn't been said with any malice.

  "Not alone, ye won't," the centaur replied.

  "I can move faster alone on the horse."

  "And I can pace ye," the centaur insisted.

  Elbryan looked around at his friends. He didn't like the idea of taking Bradwarden with him, thus leaving the others, though there were six of them, unprotected.

  "Ta
ke the centaur," Brother Castinagis insisted. "To go out alone against De'Unnero would be foolhardy."

  "The Bishop is a formidable enemy," Brother Mullahy added.

  The ranger didn't need their confirmation; anyone who could bring down two of the Touel'alfar was obviously formidable. "I am more concerned with those I leave behind," he said plainly.

  "There are six of us," Roger answered.

  "And we five of St.-Mere-Abelle are trained in the fighting arts," Brother Castinagis insisted in a confident tone.

  The ranger motioned to Bradwarden, then moved to saddle Symphony. One look at the horse, though, lathered in sweat and with a fairly serious cut on his flank, told him that he would do better walking the animal for a bit, so he plopped blanket and saddle over Bradwarden instead, bridled Symphony, and led the stallion into the forest, the centaur at his side.

  They found the tattered remains of Ni'estiel two hours later, the tiger nowhere in sight.

  "Ye'll pay that one back for doin' this," the centaur said.

  Elbryan stared at the torn form, then looked at the forest and nodded.

  Tiel'marawee was not ready for travel the next morning, though she looked somewhat stronger and even managed to open her eyes and tell more of the story, confirming that the creature that had attacked the elves had been sometimes human, sometimes tiger, and sometimes something in between. She also managed to confirm that the Bishop was hunting for Nightbird and was more than happy to kill anyone who called herself a friend of the ranger. And then Tiel'marawee closed her delicate golden eyes once more and settled quietly in her place, seeming so fragile, so on the very doorstep of death.

  Stubbornly, the ranger went out for bi'nelle dasada, stripping off his clothes and finding a clearing on the edge of a small lake. He fell into the sword dance with furor, using it to confirm his dedication to the elves and his determination to avenge this outrage, and also as a challenge to De'Unnero, hoping the Bishop would find him and come at him, in either form, that he might end this there and then.

  And indeed, from a place not too far away, De'Unnero watched the ranger's powerful yet graceful movements, and he came closer, trying to decide whether to go at the man as tiger or human. He settled on human, for he wanted to prove that he was the better fighter without the use of magic, wanted to confirm his own place in the world.

  But then De'Unnero discovered that the powerful centaur also watched the ranger, and as confident as he was, he did not desire to battle the two of them. He would bide his time, he decided, slipping back into the dark cover of the forest, though remaining close enough to watch the entire spectacle of the dance. Shamus Kilronney was on his way, with soldiers who would neutralize the ranger's friends.

  Then De'Unnero could prove himself.

  CHAPTER 28

  Consequences

  "Be off the street!" the soldier shouted at a surprised Belster O'Comely, who had come out of the Way to dump a bucket of garbage. The soldier approached, weapon drawn, but the innkeeper faded back to his door and through it, hands up defensively, not bothering to retrieve the bucket.

  "And don't ye come out again!" Belster heard the man yell as he closed his door. With a great sigh, the innkeeper moved back to the common room, where Dainsey and Mallory sat quietly sharing a drink. Just that morning, anticipating an upsurge in business with patrons coming in to gossip about the arrival of the Father Abbot and the impending arrival of the King, Belster had formally hired Mallory and Prim O'Bryen.

  How ironic that seemed now, with the Way deserted save for three fellows who had rented rooms a day before, with none of those gossip-hungry patrons able to come to the place even if they were so inclined.

  "Where'd she go?" Belster asked, and Dainsey motioned at the door to the private quarters.

  He found Pony in her room, sitting quietly in the dark, staring out the lone window. Every so often there came the bark of a soldier or monk, warning people off the streets. After the attack on the Father Abbot, St. Precious had all but shut the city down.

  "Oh, what have you done, girl?" Belster asked, moving to tower over Pony. "And it was you —don't you lie to me! Last man coming into the Way told me a gemstone hit the Father Abbot and that all the monks were amazed that someone had struck so hard and from so far away. They had wards in place against such attacks, so it's said—so they, and I, know the assassin was a person of great power with the stones. Only one person I know could have done that."

  "Avelyn Desbris could have torn his head from his shoulders," Pony stated matter-of-factly, not taking her gaze from the scene beyond the window.

  That callous attitude sent Belster into a sudden rage. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her forcefully to face him. "And Avelyn is dead," he replied. "We both know that, and we know, too, who it is that has his gemstones. And one of those stones was lodestone, was it not? And it was a lodestone that hit the Father Abbot. So where is your lodestone, girl?"

  Pony's big blue eyes narrowed, boring into him, her gaze so forceful and determined that Belster backed away half a step.

  "It was Pony who attacked the Father Abbot," Belster said quietly.

  "I would no more apologize for slaying the Father Abbot than I would for playing a role in the defeat of Bestesbulzibar," she said firmly, though she didn't understand the irony of such a statement.

  "Oh, but what have you done?" Belster lamented, throwing up his hands and spinning away, pacing nervously. "You believe that you have done a favor to our friends? To your own? Look outside, girl! Do you see anyone walking in the street, anyone coming into the Way this night?"

  "They will loosen their grip after a short enough while," Pony insisted. "They are afraid now, and so the soldiers and the monks sweep the streets to prevent any larger uprising; but that, too, will pass."

  "And what about your Behrense friends?" Belster asked. "Will the retribution from the Church that your actions bring upon the black-skins soon pass? Will those who survive the coming onslaught soon forget those who will be executed?"

  "The Behrense?"

  "Do you doubt that many are blaming them for the attack?" Belster asked incredulously.

  Pony scoffed at the absurd idea. "The Behrense have never been known as stone users," she reasoned. "Their religion does not even acknowledge the gemstones as the gift of God, but maintains they are a temptation from Ouwillar, their recognized incarnation of the demon dactyl. Yatol priests view the stones as a means to avoid hard and honest labor and as dangerous because they offer power to people whom they consider undeserving of that power. The thought that a Behrense executed a gemstone attack on the Father Abbot is purely —"

  "Convenient," Belster interrupted. "So you had your fun. Are you feeling the better for it?"

  Pony shook her head in frustration. How could he not understand? Feeling better? Hardly! She had done only what needed to be done, had done what was demanded of her out of loyalty to the Chilichunks and to Connor, and out of her hopes for a better future for the kingdom.

  "You have put us all in a pretty fix, now haven't you?" Belster went on sarcastically. "It might be that they will name the dog De'Unnero as next Father Abbot, and then all the kingdom will feel the pain he has already inflicted on Palmaris."

  Pony continued to shake her head. "Markwart was the force behind the rise of the Abellican Church," she said. "It was he who gained control of Palmaris for his Order and without him —"

  "It was he who killed your parents," Belster said bluntly. "And that is all you understand and all you considered. And it might be that Markwart deserved what you gave him, but don't you think for a moment that you did any favors to the rest of us. Not a one, I say! We'll all be living in the hell Pony made for us now."

  Pony looked back out the window, and nearly jumped out of her chair at the sudden sound of Belster slamming the door behind him. He was wrong, she told herself repeatedly. Times would be difficult for a while, perhaps, but it would pass; by her estimation, the city would more likely revert to state c
ontrol now, and the people would more likely be able to find a calm and peaceful existence.

  She had to believe that, for her actions had brought her little other comfort. She had sated her thirst for vengeance, perhaps, but that had done little —nothing at all!—to fill the hole in her heart left by the deaths of Graevis, Pettibwa, and Grady. And Connor. At the most, she now hoped that with her revenge exacted, she could get on with, and get over, the terrible process of grieving.

  "It was the woman," Tallareyish Issinshine informed Belli'mar Juraviel and Lady Dasslerond that night of the attack on the Father Abbot. "She struck from a rooftop, some distance away."

  "It would seem you have not exaggerated her power with the gemstones," Lady Dasslerond said to Juraviel, though it was painfully obvious from her tone that she was neither impressed nor pleased with Jilseponie Wyndon at that moment.

  "Jilseponie has suffered greatly at the hands of Father Abbot Markwart," Juraviel tried to explain, but he, too, heard his words as hollow. Because of her position, because she carried the child of Nightbird and knowledge of bi'nelle dasada, Pony should have acted more wisely than that; she had the responsibility to look at the overall picture of the good of the world, not act out some personal vendetta.

  "She acted rashly," Dasslerond said with her typical bluntness, "and without regard for greater events about her."

  "Events that she could not know of, since we have not contacted her," Juraviel pointed out.

  "Events that include the child in her womb," Dasslerond was quick to retort. "That fact alone should have stayed her hand."

  Juraviel wanted to reply that Pony obviously decided she could make the strike and get away with it without any greater loss than the single stone. But he held his tongue, for his excuses were a defense —precisely because Pony's actions needed defending. In truth Belli'mar Juraviel, too, was far from pleased with the woman and saw her latest action as merely another in a series of blunders that had begun when she had left Nightbird, particularly without telling him of the child. For Juraviel, too, was Touel'alfar, and, despite his frequent contact with humans, he could not see the world through their eyes.