DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (235 page)

His spirit rushed back to his waiting form. He went out of his tent, calling for Marcalo De'Unnero.

The tiger set off soon after, running straight for the drooping pine.

Or so De'Unnero thought. He encountered many obstacles that Markwart's spirit had bypassed, and by the time he reached the place, dawn had broken and the women were gone. De'Unnero's frustration lasted only as long as it took him to realize he was not alone, that the spirit of the Father Abbot was with him.

"Hear me through the soul stone ring you wear," the Father Abbot instructed. "Attune your thoughts to my spirit and I will guide you."

Away rushed Markwart, faster than the north wind.

He sensed the women's position, then called back to De'Unnero; the chase, though Pony and Colleen didn't know it, was on.

By mid-morning, the tireless De'Unnero had them in sight, while Markwart, his physical form still being comfortably borne on a litter by running monks, hovered nearby. Markwart understood Pony's power, and feared that De'Unnero might be overmatched if she was ready for him, if she had her gemstones in hand.

So he went first, telepathically, screaming into her horse's mind.

Greystone reared and bucked, and Pony barely kept her seat. The horse spun, kicking at the air. Colleen yelled out, trying to make some sense of it all.

Pony flew out of the saddle, the breath blasted from her as she landed on her back. She had the presence of mind to roll out of the way of Greystone's pounding hooves.

"What'd ye do to the thing?" Colleen called, and her words ended abruptly as something large crashed into her, driving her from her saddle. It took her a long while to recover, gathering her wits and wiping the blood and mud from her eyes. Then she saw a monstrous form standing over Pony. She tried to scream but could not, for she could hardly believe the sight before her. From the waist up the creature was a strong man, its face half human, a strange blend of man and cat. It stood in a crouch over Pony, on the legs of a cat, a striped tail swishing, staring down at the woman. Pony tried to get her arms in line to block, but De'Unnero's hand punched into the center of her chest, stealing her breath. Pony jerked up, swung her arms about to try to fend him off, but she was dazed, all strength stolen from her.

Colleen forced herself to her feet and started to draw her sword.

The creature leaped away from Pony, turning to face her.

"I'll be payin' ye back for that one!" Colleen screamed, rushing ahead, her sword slashing viciously.

Up went De'Unnero, springing straight into the air above her slashing sword, and then down hard, putting his full weight behind a tremendous punch that smashed into Colleen's breastbone, driving her down, staggering backward.

She gave a weak swipe with the sword and stared helplessly as her opponent's hand evaded the blade, moving much too fast for her to adjust her swing. The hand grabbed her blade and shoved it farther away. Then De'Unnero spun, rolling toward Colleen, his hand slapping her face, knocking her back several more steps.

And still he was right in front of her, twisting her sword arm up, then bending her wrist, easily disarming her.

He leaped, rolling over her as he went, never letting go, coming down and twisting Colleen, then using his leverage to throw her under the legs of her nervous horse.

"Run!" she heard Pony call, and she saw the tiger turn to regard her friend, then saw him stagger back, blasted by a lightning bolt.

But the powerful creature growled and rushed right back at Pony, falling upon her before she could loose another bit of magic.

Colleen scrambled to her feet, coming up on the other side of her horse. She had the beast in a run before she was fully in the saddle, for the tiger came on in fast pursuit.

Her horse crashed through the forest, branches banging into poor Colleen, nearly knocking her senseless. She heard the creature behind, and realized then the truth about the death of her beloved Baron.

Her horse took a sharp turn, and she could not hold on, falling down through some evergreen bushes, then sliding through snow and mud down the steep side of a ravine. Bouncing and tumbling, she lost consciousness long before she slammed into a tree stump far below.

She did hear the dying screams of her horse as the tiger fell upon it.

Only the angry specter of Father Abbot Markwart brought De'Unnero from his feast of horseflesh. He came fully out of his tiger state then —to call it coming from his gemstone any longer made no sense, for he wasn't even certain of where the magical tiger's paw might be. He didn't have it in hand nor in his pouch, but he didn't need it any longer, as if somehow he and the gemstone had merged.

But he let go of his feline side completely now, understanding Markwart's ire and fearing it more than he lusted for the sensation of the kill. Nearly drunk on the life energies of the horse, he came back to Pony, reaching down to check that she was still alive, hoping he had not hit her too hard after she had struck him with the lightning bolt. Markwart's instructions had been very clear: De'Unnero was to bring Pony back alive, along with the stolen gemstones. Markwart didn't care at all about the other woman.

Pony came back to consciousness a long time later, to find herself standing, her back against a tree, her hands tied painfully around the trunk.

And there stood Marcalo De'Unnero, eyes narrowed and boring into hers.

"Do you not understand the power of your enemies?" he asked, moving up to her, his face barely an inch from hers.

Pony turned away, unable to look him in the eye. He caught her by the chin and roughly turned her back to face him. For a moment, she thought he would choke the life from her or smash her face to a pulp, but then a wry smile widened across his hard face.

Pony nearly swooned; she was helpless against him. He could do anything to her, could take her then and there.

"So beautiful," De'Unnero remarked, suddenly stroking her cheek, his demeanor changing completely. Pony would rather that he kill her!

She turned away again, but his hand had her by the chin immediately, jerking her head back.

"Beautiful and powerful," De'Unnero said, "skilled with the stones and with the blade, so I am told, and so strong of will."

Pony set her jaw and narrowed her blue eyes.

"You fear that I will take you?" De'Unnero remarked, smiling wide. He grabbed the front of her shirt. "You fear that I will tear off your clothes and leave you naked before me."

Pony eyed him stubbornly, and did not reply.

"You do not even begin to understand me," De'Unnero said, his face so close to her own. But then he backed away and let go of her shirt. "I would fight you on an open field, and willingly kill you if you opposed me —as I shall kill your lover, the one called Nightbird," he explained. "But I take no carnal pleasures with an unwilling woman. I am a man of God."

Pony snorted and looked away. She expected De'Unnero to grab her chin again and jerk her head back.

"Foolish child," she heard De'Unnero say, the man walking away. "You do not begin to understand those you have named your enemies."

Pony had no answers.

She heard horses then, an approaching cavalry, and soon they were all about her, Markwart and the monks, the soldiers in their shining mail, and the King of Honce-the-Bear!

Greystone found her battered and bloody and too dazed even to think about trying to climb back up to her friend. Her friend! Colleen ached in heart more than body when she looked up that slope, to where Pony lay at the mercy of that strange beast. But she couldn't get to her friend, and even if she could have managed the climb, the tiger would merely beat her down again.

It was a moot point, though, and Colleen knew it. She could hardly get up on Greystone's back, and once there, she only managed to turn the horse north and urge him on. She slipped in and out of consciousness many times over the next hour, but had had the presence of mind to tie herself to the saddle.

And so she went on alone, knowing that the terrible man-tiger was not far behind.

She didn't camp that night. She couldn't even find the strength to climb down from the horse. Greystone walked on, eating as he went, pausing every now and then, sleeping as the woman slept on his back.

If Pony held any thoughts of speaking with King Danube, they were dashed immediately. On orders from Father Abbot Markwart —and with not a word of complaint from Danube or his entourage—a host of monks surrounded Pony, cut her loose from the tree, and shuffled her away. She saw Markwart showing her gems to the King and heard him remark about some "missing lodestone." King Danube looked over at her, his expression a mixture of pity and disgust.

And then he turned away, and Pony knew that she was doomed.

A few moments later, De'Unnero joined those escorting her, moving right beside her. "You are to run on," he explained. "The brothers will support you, will carry you when your legs give out." Two strong monks moved next to her as he spoke, pulling her arms across their shoulders, hoisting her so that her feet were barely touching the ground.

"You should reconsider your position before we return to Palmaris," De'Unnero said to her. "What a pity that one as strong of mind and body as you will be so horribly and publicly executed." He spun away as he finished, his step light and fast.

Pony didn't know how to interpret his words. Was he showing sincere concern? Or was he playing with her, taunting her within the guise of concern? Or was it, perhaps, something more sinister? Was De'Unnero pretending to be her friend, playing off against the Father Abbot, to keep her off guard?

Whatever it might be, Pony determined that she would not play along. They had beaten her, so it seemed, had taken everything from her, but she would face death with one thing intact: her convictions.

And she was glad to see De'Unnero, she decided. If the dangerous man was here, then he was not out hunting Colleen; though Pony couldn't even be certain whether her friend was alive, or if De'Unnero had killed her before he had come back.

"I will hold my convictions and my hope," she whispered, needing to hear the words, although as soon as she said them, she feared that she might elicit some taunting response from the monks holding her. Neither replied, though one did turn to regard her, eyeing her with some respect.

Pony met that gaze, drawing strength from it. Even if dying bravely was no great accomplishment, it was all she had left.

The pain wasn't so bad the next day, replaced by a grim determination in Colleen that she would get to Nightbird, whatever it took, and tell him of the fate of his lover. She knew that her wounds were serious. One arm was broken and one ankle so swollen that she had to remove her boot. And she had lost blood, and was so very cold.

But Colleen focused only on the road ahead and urged Greystone, wonderful Greystone, ahead, step after step.

Day and night blended together, one long, rolling agony. A rain fell the third day after De'Unnero's attack, but Colleen, delirious, didn't even notice. The soldiers and monks gained on her daily, though she rode long into the night, but again, she didn't, couldn't, notice.

All she knew was the road ahead, the road to Dundalis, the road to the place where she would at last allow herself some rest.

She collapsed on the side of the trail the afternoon of the fourth day, sliding from Greystone, hanging down at the end of the tether, her shoulders and head brushing the ground. The horse knew enough to stop, but there was little else that Greystone, or Colleen, could do. The woman made one attempt to right herself, but only fell back, scraping the side of her face against some crusted snow.

The sun rode low in the western sky. The darkness took her.

Tiel'marawee moved with the grace and speed that no race other than Touel'alfar could match, skipping over mounds of drifted snow immediately south of the Barbacan, and then running lightly, half flying, over stretches of open ground in the south. She took no meandering course this time, despite her elven love of song and dance, for her heart remained heavy with the loss of Ni'estiel.

Lady Dasslerond had to know: about the dead elf, about the murderous Bishop, and most of all, about the strange magic that had saved Nightbird —and Tiel'marawee—on the plateau of Mount Aida.

With hardly a thought, the elf rushed past Dundalis, passing under the tower on the north slope without disturbing the two sentries. She knew that she should turn west soon, if her destination was Andur'Blough Inninness, but she suspected that her lady might still be in Palmaris, or that Dasslerond would come north first before turning for home.

She listened intently for
tiest-tiel,
the star song.

What she heard instead was the soft nicker of a horse and the groans of a woman.

Tiel'marawee didn't know Colleen Kilronney, nor did she recognize the horse that had served as mount for Jilseponie. But though her business was urgent, the elf couldn't leave the woman like this, hanging upside down under the belly of a horse. With her fine elvish blade, she cut Colleen down, doing her best to pad the woman's fall to the ground. At the very least, she decided to unsaddle the poor horse, for festering sores were showing around the edges of the leather, and perhaps wrap the woman in the blanket, that she might die comfortably.

Colleen managed to open one eye, though the other remained closed, caked with dried blood. "Nightbird," she whispered through parched, cracked lips. "Pony caught."

Tiel'marawee's eyes widened as the meaning of the words came clear to her. "Pony?" she asked, lightly slapping the sides of the woman's face. "Jilseponie? Caught by whom? By the Abellican Church?"

But thinking her message delivered, the delirious Colleen had slipped far away.

Tiel'marawee didn't know where to turn. She hated the thought of slowing her progress to the south, but understood that this might be something significant. She ran back to the north and again passed Dundalis, moving to the bottom of the sentry tower. "A woman on the road," she called up.

The guards scrambled; Tiel'marawee heard their boots and the tumult as they reached for weapons.

"A woman on the road," she called again, "gravely injured. To the south!"

"Who is there?" one guard called back.

But Tiel'marawee was already gone.

Soon after, the elf watched with relief as a group of men rushed down one of the southern trails. They would not have found Colleen, but the elf called out to them, imitating the sounds of a woman in distress, guiding them.

"Palmaris guard," one man remarked, rushing to Colleen's side and gently turning her to her back, while a companion grabbed Greystone's reins and led the horse aside.

"Cousin of Shamus Kilronney," another man, a large man with dark black hair, replied. "Colleen, by name. She came to us in Caer Tinella, with news of the dead Baron."

"She may be soon to join him," a third man remarked. The first, inspecting her wounds, shook his head.

"Not so bad," he said. "Nothing a bit of food and a warm bed won't help. She's been on the road, and injured, for several days, at least, probably tied to the saddle the whole time."

"Good horse," the third man remarked, and only then did the large black-haired man take a moment to regard the animal, haggard-looking and with open sores. How the man's eyes widened!

"But who unsaddled the mount?" the man bending over Colleen asked.

"And who told us about the fallen woman?" the third added.

Tomas Gingerwart could hardly reply for the lump in his throat. He knew that animal, weary and haggard though it was. That was Greystone, Pony's mount! "Get her into town quickly," he bade his companions. "Get her warm and get her fed, and get her, by all means, ready to speak! Now go!"

The other two jumped at the command, gently lifting Colleen and laying her across Greystone's back, then leading the horse away.

Tomas lingered behind, looking around at the forest and the trail, appearing distressed.

Tiel'marawee took a chance, slipping out of the foliage.

Immediately the big man's hands came up, palms outward, showing that he held no weapon and would make no threatening moves. "I am no enemy of the elves," he said, not showing his amazement at seeing one of the diminutive folk.

"You know of us, and know something of the fallen woman," Tiel'marawee reasoned.

"I am Tomas Gingerwart," he explained, "friend of Nightbird, friend of Jilseponie, whose horse carried the stricken woman."

Tiel'marawee did well to hide her concern; if this was Pony's horse, then what had happened to Lady Dasslerond?

"Friend of Belli'mar Juraviel," Tomas finished, "or companion, at least —for he accompanied us to this place before turning for home."

"I am Tiel'marawee," the elf replied, bending low. "The woman has information concerning Jilseponie, I am sure."

"Pray join me, then," Tomas offered, turning for Dundalis.

The elf considered the invitation, then nodded and followed.

Many stares followed her, but none of them threatening, as she and Tomas rushed through the town to Colleen's bedside.

They found poor Colleen half conscious, still mumbling about Pony's being captured, and about the need to inform Nightbird.

"I left Nightbird at the Barbacan," Tiel'marawee explained, "locked in by a winter storm. There he must stay for several more days, at least, and many more than that if winter strikes the northland again."

"But you came through it," Tomas reasoned. "And you can get back."

The elf looked at him long and hard.

"If Pony is in trouble, then Nightbird has to know," the big man said.

"Then go tell him," Tiel'marawee said coldly, her tone leaving no doubt that, by her thinking, her role in this had come to an end.

Tomas looked at her. "You just said that Nightbird could not get through," he replied. "If that is so, then how are any of us to get to him?"

Before Tiel'marawee could answer, the door burst open and a flustered woman staggered into the room. "Soldiers coming," she said breathlessly, "and monks besides. Many monks."

Tomas turned back to Tiel'marawee —and saw the elf scrambling through a side window.

"By the gods," the big man muttered grimly. "Keep her hidden," he instructed those in the room. "By our word of friendship to Nightbird, we know nothing about her." He rushed out of the house, moving fast to join some other folk gathered at the southern end of town, awaiting the arrival of the soldiers. He looked around many times, hoping to catch sight of the elf, though he suspected, correctly, that Tiel'marawee was already far away.

"Now what are ye supposin' soldiers'll be wantin' with us?" one man asked.

"Or monks?" another added with obvious disdain, for he had been out in the forest with Tomas when the dangerous, vicious monk with the tiger's paw had come through, had been the companion of the man whose tunic the monk had shredded with a single swipe.

"Allheart," one of the others whispered to Tomas when the unit came into clear view, the strong, muscled horses churning the turf. "And several with plumed helmets."

"The ornament of a champion," another finished grimly. "The King's own."

"And a far way from Ursal," another man remarked.

They were a spectacular sight, but Tomas looked more to the group wearing the brown robes of Abellican monks running beside the mounted soldiers. One in particular caught his attention, the monk he had encountered in the forest outside of town a couple of weeks before, the monk who had named Tomas and his companions as friends of Nightbird, and thus, as enemies of the Church.

The carriage bearing Markwart came into sight, and a chorus of gasps erupted about Tomas.

Tomas had never seen the Father Abbot of the Abellican Church before, but this man's rank was obvious even before one of the others, one who had seen Markwart, named the old monk as the Church's supreme leader.

"What've we done to bring such attention?" someone asked.

"More likely Nightbird than us," another answered.

Tomas didn't disagree, nor did he bother to comment, so intense was his focus on the approaching procession. And then he saw Pony, bedraggled, propped between two monks, and his heart fell. He thought of all the months that woman and her lover had kept him and his friends alive, remembered the fight with the great giant leader, when the behemoth made the error of following Nightbird into the forest. Only then, seeing Pony so helpless, did Tomas realize how much he loved her and Nightbird, how much they had become heroes to him.