DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga)

by R. A. Salvatore

  “There are those among my people who doubt the wisdom of training the rangers,” he explained. “When they do, we speak to them of Mather; of Andacanavar, who still roams the wilds of Alpinador; and of Elbryan the Nightbird, who saved the world from the demon dactyl. And now, when the doubters speak up, they will be reminded of Brynn Dharielle, the Dragon of To-gai, who freed her people from the oppression of Behren.”

  “The To-gai-ru are not yet free,” Brynn reminded.

  “But they shall be, and soon enough,” said Juraviel.

  Brynn bent down a bit then and kissed her dear friend on the cheek, and they hugged tightly and for a long while, and more than one tear made its way down her brown cheek.

  “Let us set the army on the road south,” she said after a bit. “Then I will fly you to the base of the mountains, a quick start on your road to Tymwyvenne.”

  They heard a distant call for Brynn at that same time; one of her commanders needed her assistance. She backed away from Juraviel and wiped away her tears, then squeezed his hand once more and headed away with Pagonel.

  “It is more difficult to leave her than you expected,” Cazzira remarked to Juraviel when they were alone.

  “I knew it would be hard. I found Brynn after I had lost a dear friend, Nightbird, and feared that I would never mend the hole in my heart. I miss him still, I always will, but Brynn Dharielle taught me to smile once more. She reminds me yet again of why we train the rangers, of the good that they can do in the world.”

  Cazzira stepped in close beside him and took up his hand in her own, squeezing it gently. Juraviel turned a grateful look toward her, but one that fast shifted to a more serious and fearful expression.

  “Do you think that she will win?” the Touel’alfar asked in all seriousness.

  “I do not truly appreciate the power of her enemies,” Cazzira replied. “But Pagonel does, and I believe that he thinks she will win out.”

  “You are surprised by these humans,” Juraviel remarked.

  “It makes me regret our practice of giving them to the bog,” Cazzira admitted. “Never have my people viewed them as anything more than the goblins. I did not understand that they could be so self-sacrificing for principle, or so loyal.”

  “Tymwyvenne will change in the years ahead.”

  “Tymwyvenne already has,” Cazzira replied. “The fact that you, and especially Brynn, still draw breath is proof of that!”

  Juraviel, still watching the woman and Pagonel walk away, merely nodded.

  “Have you yet solved the riddle of why your Chezru Chieftain desired you murdered?” Pagonel asked, sitting beside Merwan Ma that same night, in a sheltered place off to the side of the main To-gai-ru encampment.

  Merwan Ma looked at him and snickered. Always the same question, every day. “You are a patient one,” he said.

  “I am willing to allow you to come to accept the truth of it in your own time,” the mystic replied. “I believe that you will tell me, one day soon, because you will realize that the cause I support is just.”

  “Just?” the Shepherd scoffed. “You call the destruction of cities just? You believe that the blood of the thousands spilled upon the desert sands is just?”

  “Regrettable, but unavoidable,” the mystic answered, breaking out his pack and handing some food to his prisoner. “Do you believe that there is any other way for To-gai to break free of the iron grip of your former master? Or is it that you believe that grip to be just?”

  “Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan is the God-Voice,” Merwan Ma insisted, and he pushed the food away. “His decisions are inspired, divinely so. He conquered To-gai to show the To-gai-ru a better way of life, and though there was immediate pain—”

  “He conquered To-gai to fatten the purses of his greedy Yatols,” Pagonel interrupted. “And to increase his own power, though now, with Brynn’s campaign, he may be regretting that decision!”

  “You know nothing.”

  “I know what I see, and what I have seen from your God-Voice is imperialistic and opportunistic, and nothing more.”

  “Because you do not understand that he speaks with Yatol!”

  Pagonel drew out his knife again, and flipped it over in his hand so that the handle was out toward Merwan Ma. “You know what Yatol commanded concerning you,” he said dryly.

  “I know no such thing,” the defiant Merwan Ma replied. “I know what a rogue Chezhou-Lei tried to do, and I am grateful that you saved my life. Beyond that, I have only your reasoning that the act was somehow connected to my master.”

  “My reasoning and your own memory,” said Pagonel. “For you understand more than you will reveal. You know something, about the Chezru Chieftain likely, that he finds dangerous. Deny it as you will—to me, for you cannot deny it to yourself. When you view the act of the Chezhou-Lei and my reasoning in light of your own memories, you know that I am correct.”

  “I will not betray Yatol, however you choose to twist my words!”

  Pagonel smiled and rose in response, leaving the food beside the troubled young man. “We are moving this very night, so you should eat, and eat well.”

  “To another city, to justly murder everyone within?” the Shepherd asked sarcastically.

  “To the Mountains of Fire, to heal our wounds and rest out the winter sandstorms,” the mystic replied, and a horrified expression crossed Merwan Ma’s gentle face.

  “The home of the Jhesta Tu!” he said.

  “Near to it, though few, if any, will view the Walk of Clouds.”

  “But I am doomed to that fate, I suppose,” said Merwan Ma, eliciting a puzzled expression from Pagonel. “That you might use your ancient torture techniques upon me to gather the information you desire,” the Shepherd reasoned.

  “Ancient torture techniques?”

  “I know all about your order, about how you can take the skin from a man without killing him, that his whole body burns with horrible fires! I know about your rituals, drinking the blood of babies and enemies. You believe that because you hide in the mountains far to the south that the world would have forgotten about the atrocities of the Jhesta Tu, but we have not, I assure you!”

  His bluster was somewhat tempered by the sincere laughter of Pagonel. “You know the stories the Chezhou-Lei tell, and the Yatols tell, because they fear that if their subjects learned the truth of the Jhesta Tu, we would not be so hated. And they need to hate us, don’t you understand? Because, without an enemy to hate, without a threat from somewhere, keeping a nation in obedience is a much more difficult process.”

  Merwan Ma hardly seemed convinced.

  “Yes, you will visit the Walk of Clouds, Merwan Ma,” Pagonel remarked. “If only because I wish you to see the truth of the Jhesta Tu with your own eyes.”

  “Why would that be important to you?”

  “Because I suspect that you are intelligent enough to see the truth, of my order and of so much more,” Pagonel replied, and he bent low and patted the man on the shoulder. “I will leave you to your thoughts, and to your memories, my friend,” he said, and walked away.

  A perfectly miserable Merwan Ma lowered his head into his hands, wanting simply to clear his mind of concerns and memories, and of future problems. But that last word Pagonel had uttered, “friend,” stayed with the poor Shepherd for a long, long time.

  Once he had thought Yakim Douan to be his friend.

  “You rode three horses into the sand to rush here to tell me that Yatol Bardoh will not be following you back to Jacintha, as I have ordered?” Yakim Douan said to the poor, trembling courier.

  “Yatol Bardoh instructed me to deliver his response to you as quickly as possible, God-Voice,” the man stuttered.

  “His response?” Douan asked incredulously. “What makes you, or him, think that he has the option of any response? He is to do as I instructed, do you hear?”

  “Yes, God-Voice!”

  Yakim Douan eyed the man threateningly for a short while, watching him squirm under that withering
glare. Then he put on a disgusted look and waved the man away. “Ride five more horses into the sand, if that is what it takes,” he instructed. “Find your Yatol and tell him that the God-Voice is watching his every move closely, and is not amused.”

  “Yes, God-Voice,” the trembling man said repeatedly, and he bowed with every retreating step.

  Yakim Douan waved everyone else out of the room, as well, and collapsed in his chair, thoroughly frustrated. With the Dragon of To-gai nowhere to be found, he had ordered Yatol Bardoh and his fifteen thousand soldiers back to the Jacintha perimeter, to set defensive positions against this most frustrating of enemies. But Bardoh’s courier had come in to inform Douan that the man was turning for Avrou Eesa, his home city, and was taking the soldiers with him, ostensibly to help guard the farther reaches of Behren, the outer rim of the country, which was obviously more vulnerable to the Dragon of To-gai.

  But Yakim Douan had lived through centuries, and he understood the southern turn to be much more a militarily tactical movement. Yatol Bardoh was using this time of crisis to further his own position, obviously. With Grysh dead, Bardoh was probably the second most powerful man in all of Behren, especially when he had fifteen thousand of Yakim Douan’s soldiers at his disposal!

  Both Douan and Bardoh knew that the outer cities were not very pleased with the tight defensive stance about Jacintha and her neighboring cities, and were feeling abandoned and afraid. So now Yatol Bardoh could act the part of savior to them, and if Douan went overtly against him, even under the pretense of commands from Yatol, he would risk losing the loyalty of all those people in the outer regions. Yes, they were Chezru by religion, but the pragmatism of simple survival often trumped the tenets of religion.

  So now Yatol Bardoh apparently saw his chance to further his own position among all the towns of the south and west. Given the fact that Yakim Douan had been speaking fairly openly about a time of Transcendence for a couple of years, who could guess how powerful the man hoped to become?

  Yakim Douan took a deep, deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to look beyond the immediate situation, beyond the Dragon of To-gai. She would be put down soon enough, obviously, but because of Yatol Bardoh’s impudence, Douan had to look ahead to the time of Transcendence. He had to find a way to placate the man, to satisfy his ego and his craving for power and glory, then he had to make sure that the man would follow the precepts of Transcendence.

  Else all could be lost.

  “Damn you, Dragon of To-gai!” Yakim Douan said suddenly, and he pounded his fist forcefully on the arm of his chair.

  He heard a scuffle to the side then, and turned fast to see Shepherd Took staring at him wide-eyed.

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  “I wanted to tell you that Yatol Bardoh’s courier is already away, God-Voice,” the man stuttered. “Riding hard down the western road to Dahdah Oasis, and then to Dharyan.”

  “Get out,” Douan ordered, and he waved his hand.

  With many bows, Shepherd Took retreated.

  Yakim Douan made a mental note that he would have to execute his latest attendant in the morning for spying upon him.

  With a frustrated growl, the Chezru Chieftain ran a hand through his thinning hair, for that thought only illustrated how absurd and out of control this whole situation had become. How he missed Merwan Ma!

  He reconsidered then his order to kill the man, and was sorry for a moment to think of the faithful and competent attendant lying dead under the sands of Dharyan. How extraordinary Merwan Ma truly had been, he had to believe then, for the string of prospective attendants that had followed the man had been anything but.

  And Yakim Douan understood well that he could not risk Transcendence without a thoroughly competent and undyingly loyal attendant at his side.

  Chapter 31

  Her Winter of Discontent

  “I AM CERTAIN THAT I WILL COME TO DREAD THIS DAY AND CHASTISE MYSELF FOR agreeing to let you leave,” Brynn said to Juraviel and Cazzira. The three were back in To-gai, far to the north, at the southern entrance to the Path of Starless Night in the foothills of the Belt-and-Buckle. Behind them, Agradeleous stretched his great leathery wings and roared repeatedly into the winter wind.

  “It was not your decision to make,” Juraviel replied. “Nor one that you could have changed, if you sought to.”

  “If I begged Belli’mar Juraviel to help me, he would not?” Brynn asked, batting her eyes and putting on a purely wounded tone, almost sounding like the lost little girl who had first arrived at Andur’Blough Inninness.

  All three shared a laugh at that.

  “He would indeed,” said Cazzira. “Belli’mar Juraviel has a reputation among his own people, he tells me, that he is more fond of n’Touel’alfar than of Touel’alfar, and it is a reputation that he has truly earned!”

  “Only if you consider Doc’alfar as n’Touel’alfar!” Juraviel shot back, adding in a wink at his lover and friend, and the three laughed all the louder.

  But that mirth couldn’t hold, for the reality was that these three were saying good-bye. Juraviel and Cazzira were abandoning Brynn and her quest for their own, which seemed much more pressing to their respective peoples now that Brynn’s campaign was in full swing. The reality was that it seemed quite plausible that Brynn Dharielle would never see Belli’mar Juraviel again.

  They both knew it, but neither spoke that possibility aloud. Instead, they shared a good meal and told many, many tales, mostly Juraviel and Brynn recounting to Cazzira some of their adventures together back in Andur’Blough Inninness, like the time Brynn had lured a deer with a sweet plant, that she could pass the challenge of touching the animal—turning what should have been a test of her stealth and understanding of her surroundings into a test of her charm. How many tales Juraviel had to recount of Brynn frustrating him and the other Touel’alfar, circumventing their plans while reaching every goal they had set out for her!

  Late that afternoon, with daylight beginning to wane, they shared some hugs and some tears, some hopeful words about a reunion, and some assurances to each other that they would all succeed. And then the two elves walked into the deeper darkness of the Path of Starless Night, and suddenly Brynn Dharielle felt very much alone.

  She hugged herself against the cold winter wind and reminded herself that Pagonel was back to the south, at the Mountains of Fire and the Walk of Clouds, waiting for her. Still, she stared into the black hole of the tunnel, feeling lonely and empty and fearful.

  Behind her, Agradeleous roared.

  “Are we to fly all the way back to the south this night?” the dragon asked some time later, with Brynn still standing there, staring into the tunnel.

  She was no longer thinking of the two elves, though. Rather, she was formulating her continuing plans. The previous night, the last leg of the journey that had brought them up there, they had spotted several large encampments of the Behrenese army, still floundering about the To-gai steppes. Brynn was glad that the winter had caught the Behrenese still in To-gai, confident that the vicious weather would erode their morale, possibly even their numbers. She was thinking that she should find some way to keep the soldiers there, in misery, and perhaps even lure more in.

  She glanced back at Agradeleous. “No,” she answered. “My army is at rest and needs us not at all. Perhaps you and I should find some fun in To-gai.”

  The dragon looked at her curiously. “Fun?”

  “You have wanted your fights, Agradeleous—more than I have allowed you, certainly. Perhaps it is time for you to have those fights.”

  The dragon’s lips curled eagerly and a low growl escaped his lips, along with a trickling line of smoke.

  “Let us go down this night, and however many it takes, for us to learn as much as we can about the situation in To-gai, that we might find ways to strike hard at our enemies.”

  The dragon’s wicked grin receded more than a little. “Months of gathering information?” he asked, seeming none too pleased.


  “Days,” Brynn assured him. “Only days. I desire battle as much as you. There is an enemy army within my country, likely making life miserable for my kinfolk.”

  “We will chase them away!” Agradeleous roared.

  “No,” Brynn corrected. “We will make them miserable and strike at their flanks, but above all else, we will keep them here.”

  Again came that curious look, but Brynn gave a sincere smile in response, for the plan was already taking definite shape in her mind.

  Brynn kept the dragon aloft for as long as she could stand the cold wind that first night and the next, mapping out the deployment of the Behrenese forces. They had several encampments, and it was obvious that the army was using a number of the settlements in the region for their bivouac, as well. Also, they weren’t as far west as they had been when Brynn had previously encountered them, and she was guessing that her To-gai forces had taken them on a chase out to the north and west, but that they had, for some reason, turned back.

  Nor were the encampments static, for that second night, she noted that the westernmost groups had moved to the east, leap-frogging their fellow Behrenese. Brynn didn’t even need to see the movement before the third night to know that the pattern would be repeated, an organized, well-defended retreat back to the plateau rim, perhaps even back into Behren, to Dharyan.

  She wasn’t surprised.

  On the third night aloft, Brynn and Agradeleous found another encampment, a large one, further to the south and west. Recognizing it for what it was, Brynn had the dragon set her down far to the side, and then she walked in, greeting the To-gai-ru perimeter sentries.

  They seemed to recognize her almost immediately, but when she drew out her sword and lit its magical fires, their smiles grew wide indeed, and they hustled her into the encampment.

  Brynn’s initial thrill at finding the To-gai-ru was dampened quite a bit as she made her way through that huge encampment, for this was not the same group of eager warriors she had encountered on her last visit. Or at least, it was much more than that same group. Where that previous band had numbered two thousand, this one had to be ten times that number! Most of the people here were not warriors, however, but were the very young and the very old, were mothers with their children. And it was obvious to Brynn that they were not faring well. Only then did it hit the woman how profoundly her kinfolk back home were suffering because of the war. They had left the settlements—the Autumnal Nomaduc had seen to that—but forced together in a conglomeration of all the old tribes, they could not yet retain their old ways