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

by R. A. Salvatore

  “A common room,” Pony observed quietly from the shadows beyond the windows.

  “Filled mostly with townsfolk, it seems,” said Midalis, bending a bit for a better angle as he peered into the glow. “But soldiers, too, no doubt.”

  “I want to run in there and proclaim your presence,” Pony admitted. “I want to lead you to the tower and take it back for the rightful crown, here and now.”

  “You promised Bradwarden and Andacanavar that this was merely an exploratory journey,” the prince reminded her.

  It was true enough, Pony had to admit. When she and Midalis had announced their plans for this diversion to Pireth Dancard, the centaur, in particular, had howled in outrage, and had kept on howling until he got concessions from the pair that they would use all precautions here.

  The sound of talking from farther down the road behind the pair had them ducking deeper into the shadows, and they watched as a group of five men—fishermen of Dancard, obviously, and not professional soldiers—ambled into sight.

  Pony and Midalis exchanged a glance, and then the woman stepped out to block the road before the group, while the prince sank deeper into the shadows.

  “Greetings,” she said.

  The men stopped, nearly falling all over each other. “Eh, Connie girl, is that you?” one asked.

  “Nah, that’s not Connie,” another was quick to add. “Who are ye, girl?”

  “Hardly a girl anymore,” Pony said and she moved a bit more into the light and pulled back the hood of her cloak, shaking her blond hair free.

  “Who are ye then?” the second man asked. “Ye’re not one from Dancard that I’m knowin’, and I’m knowin’ all from Dancard town. Did ye come in with them soldiers, then? A trollop for the morale o’ the men?”

  That brought a few hopeful smiles from the others, and Pony merely laughed. “Hardly,” she replied. “I am a herald, come to Dancard isle this night.”

  “This night?” one man balked, and he and the others glanced down toward the dark ocean as if expecting an invasion fleet to even then be gliding in. “I heard o’ no ships putting in to Dancard this night!”

  “Because I was on no ship,” Pony replied calmly. “And I am no trollop. I am a herald, as I said, bearing news of Prince Midalis of Vanguard, the rightful king of Honce-the-Bear.”

  The men all stammered, but really said nothing intelligible for a long while.

  “Are ye now?” one of them finally managed to ask.

  “The same Prince Midalis who led the attack against the fleet of Ursal that came to Pireth Dancard,” Pony went on. “The same Prince Midalis who stranded the soldiers here by sailing off with their ships.”

  “Bah, she’s one of Earl DePaunch’s spies!” another man cried. “He’s testing our wits here, wanting to see if we’re thinkin’ in favor o’ Midalis. Scoot her on her way and let us get to the bottles!”

  “Aye, she’s no herald,” another agreed.

  “Then why did she bring me along with her?” asked Midalis, stepping from the shadows to stand openly before them, his hands on his hips, holding wide his cloak to reveal the crest of the bear rampant, the crest of his family, emblazoned upon the one piece of armor he wore this night, a half breastplate that covered the left side of his chest.

  Indeed, the men did recognize Midalis, for he had been through Dancard on several occasions, including his return trip from the marriage of Pony and his brother only a couple of years before.

  The men gave a communal gasp.

  “Are ye to kill DePaunch then and get his bullies off our island?” one dared to ask a moment later.

  “Aye, the dog that he is,” another said, and he spat upon the ground.

  “He put Warder Presso to the noose, he did,” said another.

  “Warder Presso?” Pony asked suddenly, the name sparking recognition.

  “Aye, our leader here before DePaunch,” the man answered. “A good man. Coastpoint Guard for years and years.”

  “You knew him?” Prince Midalis asked Pony.

  “I knew a man by that name in Pireth Tulme, many years ago,” the woman answered, and her tone turned very cold as she asked the townsman, “Where is this Earl DePaunch?”

  As one, the group turned up toward the tower.

  “What are you thinking, Jilseponie?” Prince Midalis quietly asked.

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to answer to convey her intentions. “Stand strong in your faith in the line of Ursal,” she said to the townsfolk, and she turned and started off into the darkness, heading for the distant tower.

  “My prince?” one man asked, obviously not knowing what he should do and obviously expecting some trouble!

  “Go to your revelry,” Prince Midalis explained. “You are not forgotten here, though it may be some time before I can return to you. But I will return to you, on my word, should I reclaim the crown of Honce-the-Bear.” And then, knowing well that Pony wasn’t waiting for him, the man sprinted off into the night.

  He caught up to her along the road out of Dancard town, moving determinedly toward the tower. “Jilseponie,” he warned, grabbing her by the arm. “We promised Andacanavar and Bradwarden that we would avoid trouble.”

  “No trouble,” the woman returned. “But I’ve a few words for this Earl DePaunch.” She looked Midalis in the eye, and even in the dark of night, he could see the intense sparkle in her blue eyes. “For the man who murdered Warder Constantine Presso.”

  The woman stormed on, sweeping Midalis along in her wake. As they approached the tower of Pireth Dancard, they saw a pair of guards standing before the closed doors, long spears held ready beside them.

  “Stand and be counted!” came the demand.

  “Open the door!” Pony shouted back.

  “What is the meaning of this?” one of the guards roared at her. “Back to your homes, peasants!”

  “Is that how you name your former queen, and the prince of Honce-the-Bear?” Pony yelled right back at him, pulling back the hood of her cloak. “Stand aside for Prince Midalis, or risk being hanged as a traitor to the crown!”

  How wide those two sets of eyes looked, reflected in the torchlight! The men gawked for a moment, then looked to each other, then back at the surprising pair. One stammered, “What? What?” over and over again, while the other slunk back and seemed on the verge of a fast retreat.

  “Open the door!” Pony demanded.

  “I cannot, milady,” the flustered soldier cried, and he halfheartedly lifted his spear before him, while his partner moved more forcibly to intercept the still-approaching pair.

  Or at least, the man tried to intercept, for in the flash of a sizzling, bluish silver bolt, he was flying away, to crash against the tower side and crumple to the hard ground.

  The other man fell back, and then screamed out as another bolt blasted forth from Pony’s hand, aimed not at him, but at the door he partially blocked.

  The door fell in, the guard stumbling down atop it, and Pony and Midalis simply walked right by.

  “Where is Earl DePaunch?” Pony asked the shaking and prone guard.

  The man pointed to the stairway set in the back of the circular tower’s base.

  Up went Pony, with Midalis following close behind. They moved quickly right through the second floor, the barracks, taking little heed of the men, some sleeping, some groggily asking what the commotion was all about.

  By the time they got to the third-floor door, some of those soldiers were crying out for them to stop, but they merely pushed on, then closed and barred the door behind them.

  A hallway loomed before them, a door on either side and one at its end.

  “Which one, I wonder?” Pony asked, and Midalis just shrugged.

  “If this is another squabble over some peasant’s livestock, I will …,” came a complaint from the end of the hall, as the door opened and a man stepped to its threshold. He wore a nightshirt, but it was of fine silk, obviously imported from Behren, and he had a distinct look of nobility a
bout him, with his perfectly groomed hair and beard.

  “Earl DePaunch, I presume,” Pony said to him.

  The man looked at her curiously for just a moment, and then his eyes widened so much that it seemed as if the balls would just fall from their sockets and roll about on the floor!

  “Queen … queen,” he stammered.

  “And prince prince, too,” Pony dryly replied.

  The man disappeared, slamming the door and giving a shriek, and Pony methodically moved to it, and through it, just in time to see the tower top’s trapdoor slam shut above her.

  “Block it! Block it!” she heard the muffled cry of the earl. “Put your bodies atop it, you fools!”

  Pony looked to Midalis and smiled wryly. “See? No trouble.” She lifted her hand and found her way into the graphite.

  The trapdoor blasted apart, launching the two unfortunate soldiers lying atop it into the air.

  One was still down, barely conscious, the other up on one knee, shaking his head so forcefully that his lips made a flapping sound, when Pony climbed through onto the rooftop.

  A sword met her ascent, coming in hard from the left, but the woman had anticipated the attack, of course, and so she had her own sword in hand, meeting the attack with a deft parry, a subtle turn, and a sudden sweep that sent the other blade flying away into the night.

  The Kingsman started to come at her again, but she eyed him dangerously. “Be reasonable, friend,” she said. “Do not make me kill you.”

  The man, as if only then realizing that he had no weapon in hand, backed away and held his hands up before him.

  “To arms!” the terrified DePaunch cried, leaning over the tower’s edge across the way from Pony. “To arms! Giulio Jannet, where are you?”

  “Nowhere that will do you any good, traitor,” Pony said, and Earl DePaunch gave a little shriek and rushed to the side as Pony steadily approached.

  “Tell me of Warder Presso’s hanging,” Pony bade him. “Tell me in detail how you murdered my old friend.”

  “I represent King Aydrian,” the stammering earl replied. “I am a soldier in the army of Honce-the-Bear.”

  “You are an Allheart Knight, sworn to protect the line of Ursal!” Pony corrected. “The line that names this man as king!” She swept her hand out toward the somewhat amused, somewhat nervous, Prince Midalis.

  He stood by the shattered trapdoor looking down, and remarked, “I do believe that we will soon be joined by interested others.”

  That seemed to give Earl DePaunch some backbone—he stood straighter, at least, and motioned for his soldiers to act.

  One started to, but Pony was quicker. She rushed the nobleman and put her sword tip to his throat, her other hand reaching into her gemstone pouch. “Do tell your soldiers to leave.”

  “Help me!” the man cried. “Help me! Kill them!”

  Pony snapped her hand up to the earl’s chest and engaged her new gemstone, forcing its powers to encompass the man instead of herself. His body weight stolen by the malachite’s levitational magic, the man went up on his toes, then right off the ground, lifted by Pony. With a shrug, she sent him flying out over the tower’s edge.

  “Yes, do kill me,” she said, turning to face the others.

  The three Kingsmen, and a fourth coming up through the trapdoor, hesitated.

  “Leave her!” Earl DePaunch screamed frantically, flailing his arms and legs. “Do not harm her! Do not break her concentration!”

  With that settled, Pony motioned for the men to throw aside their weapons and move back over to the trapdoor.

  “I demand the surrender of Pireth Dancard to the rightful king of Honce-the-Bear, Prince Midalis Dan Ursal!” she called to DePaunch.

  DePaunch stammered and stuttered, but was too afraid to argue with her.

  “If you so believe in your young King Aydrian, then you should deny my claim here and now,” Pony chided. “Tell your men to slay me, Earl DePaunch. Tell them to attack with all their hearts, in faith that you served your king well as you fell to your death.”

  The sound that came from Earl DePaunch’s lips sounded distinctly like a whine.

  “I deny your claim!” came a cry from below, and Pony and Midalis looked over the tower’s lip to see an Abellican monk standing before the tower, soldiers all about him. “The kingdom is Aydrian’s, and the church is claimed for Father Abbot Marcalo De’Unnero.” The monk looked about, ordering the soldiers into the tower, and he seemed to have many allies down there with him, all willing to sacrifice DePaunch, if it had to be.

  “If I angle it correctly, I might be able to drop DePaunch atop the fool,” Pony remarked to Midalis.

  But Prince Midalis cupped her hand with his own. “Remember who we are,” he said. “Set the man down.”

  Pony stared at him incredulously, but Midalis jumped aside and gathered up a rope that was lying beside the ballista. He tossed one end out to the earl, and when the man caught it, he gave a sudden tug that brought the weightless DePaunch flying back over the tower top, where Pony released him from the magic. He fell hard, skidding down, but scrambled right back to his feet.

  “A wise choice, Prince Midalis,” DePaunch said, trying to regain some of his lost dignity. “Perhaps I might speak on your behalf to King Aydrian.”

  He didn’t quite get Aydrian’s name out before Midalis’ left hook smashed him in the face, dropping him like a stone.

  “Think well on your position here, Earl DePaunch,” the prince warned. “You are isolated; the seas are mine, as the kingdom soon will be. I’ll not forget your treason, sir, nor your murder of Warder Presso.”

  “Who was my friend,” Pony added, moving by and glaring at the squirming man. “We will speak again.”

  They had to leave then, for the tower below was filling with soldiers, and even the three guards on the top with them seemed to be gaining some confidence.

  “You should all consider your positions well,” Pony said to them, and she sheathed her sword and took out a second gemstone—which made the soldiers shrink back even more. “King Danube is dead, but his line lives on. Aydrian is not of that line, and is not the rightful king of Honce-the-Bear.”

  She took Midalis’ hand then, and engaged her malachite gemstone, running to the tower’s lip and leaping away. As soon as they were airborne, Pony reached into the second stone, a lodestone, and used its energies to find a metallic source across the way in Dancard town. She strengthened the lodestone’s focus on that metal, using the magnetic energies to propel her and Midalis along through the dark Dancard night.

  She brought them down easily, releasing the malachite. On they ran down to the surf, the sound of a dozen horns blowing furiously behind them. Now with amber in hand, the clever woman and the prince sprinted out across the dark waters toward the waiting Saudi Jacintha. “I should have dropped him to his death,” Pony lamented, when they were safely away.

  “His terror weakened him in the eyes of his juniors,” Midalis remarked. “Your action, had you killed him, might have brought an attempted revolt, but that would have done little but get the townsfolk slaughtered. We cannot support them now, because we’ve not the time nor the resources to do battle with Pireth Dancard at present. Our business is in the south, remember?”

  Pony had to agree. “You have support in Dancard—Earl DePaunch’s stay there will not be without incident.”

  “And there he will remain, until we decide otherwise. You shamed him to his soldiers and now they know the truth of my intent. We have won a significant victory here.”

  Pony wasn’t quite so convinced, but she understood that it had to be good enough. Still, within Pony there loomed a desire to slip ashore and cripple the batteries, and to finish with DePaunch and all the other leaders. Then let Midalis’ warships sail in, and see how much resistance the island offered! But Midalis was right, she knew. What would they do with the crown’s soldiers even if they came over to the prince’s cause? They had no more room on their ships.

  Her
friend was right, she knew. Let Aydrian’s men sit there on that rocky island and fester.

  And let DePaunch suffer with his fears.

  For now.

  Chapter 37

  The Value of Knowing

  “I WAS TOLD TO COME HERE AND CONVINCE YOU THAT THE WITHDRAWAL IS WELL under way,” Pechter Dan Turk said to Brynn, Pagonel, and the other leaders of Dharyan-Dharielle. “You are to be mollified, to purchase the weeks that Yatol De Hamman needs to strengthen his force.”

  Brynn looked past the words, to the torn feelings she read clearly in Pechter Dan Turk’s eyes. It was killing the man to so betray his own people, she knew, and he was doing so only because he had honestly come to believe that it was Abbot Olin and Honce-the-Bear, and not Yatol Wadon and Behren, that were truly in command here, and truly set to benefit. Olin was using Behrenese blood to expand the empire of King Aydrian and the Abellican Church.

  Brynn looked around to the others in the room, to see the gamut of emotions, from the doubting expression on the stern face of ever-skeptical Tanalk Grenk to the sudden exuberance displayed by some of the younger leaders.

  “Those hundreds who have apparently left De Hamman’s force,” Brynn began, “how far have they retreated?”

  “Within an hour’s march,” Pechter Dan Turk replied. “A few miles along the road and no more. Yatol De Hamman will not allow himself to become truly weakened when there is any possibility that you might come forth from Dharyan-Dharielle.”

  “Then why march at all?” Tanalk Grenk put in.

  “Because if we believe that he is coordinating the retreat of his army, we will not come forth,” Pagonel explained. “Yatol De Hamman does not wish a battle against us at this time.”

  “His force is greater than anything To-gai could muster,” Tanalk Grenk argued. “Our walls keep him at bay, but would we win if we charged out from those walls?”

  “It would be a difficult battle,” Brynn admitted. “But we would prevail.” She wasn’t sure she really believed that last statement, for she understood that De Hamman’s force was not only mighty in a conventional sense, but that they had added several elements—quick-aiming and versatile ballistae and the Abellican gemstone-wielding monks—to counteract Brynn’s greatest advantage: Agradeleous. For the To-gai-ru to ride out, for all their ferocity, would be to throw themselves into a maelstrom. They might win anyway, Brynn believed, for she thought a To-gai-ru warrior to be worth two Behrenese, but it would be a bloody and difficult battle, one that would leave her army depleted and battered. It would be very hard to accomplish a rout with that second Behrenese force returning fast to join in, for the initial defense would not break and run in their faith and understanding that help was coming fast.