Markwart let his glare fall upon Pony.
Not to possess, but to escape,
the voice in his head told him, and then his eyes widened!
To send her spirit to her allies.
"How long was she within the power of the stone before you noticed?" the Father Abbot asked.
De'Unnero shrugged. "A few moments, no more."
A few moments, Markwart mused; no stranger to spirit-walking, he understood how far Pony might have traveled in those few moments. "She is to have no contact with any stones, even if her life is fast fading away from her," he instructed. Then he rushed back to his carriage and took out his own soul stone. He guessed Pony's course, and now he followed that same path, soaring through the mountains, down past the valley floor and up the side of Mount Aida. They were still there, he knew —Nightbird and the other conspirators. Now he would see them, view their preparations to determine if the woman had gotten to them or not; perhaps he would even possess one of them.
But again his spirit was stopped at the edge of the plateau as surely as if his corporeal body had run into a stone wall.
Markwart tried to break through the barrier, but was blocked by a force more powerful —many times more powerful—than the strength of Dasslerond when she had sent him careening back to his corporeal form in Palmaris.
He didn't understand it, but he knew —and so did the voice within him—that he could not defeat this barrier. He figured that Braumin and the other monks must have come into possession of a very powerful sun-stone, but unless it was a stone many times more magnificent than anything the Father Abbot had seen, he could hardly believe that even the five together could so completely deny him access.
Shaken, the Father Abbot returned to his corporeal form in the carriage. Seeing that his monks were lagging behind, he went back to his malachite, lending them strength.
He thought about that mysterious power atop the blasted mountain often during the day, and he was glad he had brought powerful allies with him.
"They are camped on the other side of the pass, though they'll have trouble negotiating the snow with their heavy horses and armor," Roger Lockless dutifully reported that night, returned from a scouting expedition.
Elbryan understood: the Father Abbot and the King had come for him, and likely with De'Unnero along. "Instruct Shamus to keep a vigilant watch this night," the ranger said to Bradwarden. "The Bishop might decide to pay us a visit prematurely."
"Hope he does," the centaur replied. "Might be the only chance we get to hit at that one afore the whole damned army rolls over us."
"Are we to stay up here?" Roger asked in disbelief.
"Where would you have us go?" Elbryan replied. "Goblins still control the ring about the Barbacan other than the southern passes. Markwart, with his gemstones, will find us wherever we run. Up here, with the power of Avelyn backing us, is our best chance."
"Ye should send the monks away, at least," Bradwarden reasoned. "They're not needin' to die up here. If Markwart's just lookin' for Nightbird and Bradwarden, then let them get away."
"I already offered as much," the ranger replied. "Brother Braumin would hear none of it. The man is eager to return to Palmaris as the Father Abbot's prisoner, is eager to speak of the miracle at Mount Aida."
"He'll have a hard time talkin' with his tongue cut from his mouth," the centaur said dryly.
Elbryan didn't doubt it; Markwart would never let Braumin, or any of them, speak the truth. The ranger knew that they would win or lose everything here on Aida, beside the upraised arm of Avelyn. He understood the power of the gemstones, the scouting power of the soul stone, and knew that there was no way they could hope to escape now that Markwart was on their trail.
No, they would win here, with the help from Avelyn, or they would lose everything.
No, the ranger realized as he considered the situation. Not everything.
"You go," he said to Roger. "Now, this very night, on Symphony. Go south to the passes and find a hole to hide in. When Markwart's forces have passed you, then ride south with all speed. Find Pony and tell her the truth —tell her of the miracle and of our final stand. This must not die with us."
"They do not want you dead," Roger reasoned, obviously not happy with the alteration to the plans. "They want you as a prisoner."
"Then all the more important that you escape," the ranger replied. "Take this," he added, almost as an afterthought. He reached up and removed the circlet from around his head, the only gemstone, other than the one set in Tempest's pommel and the turquoise in Symphony's chest, that Pony had left with him when she had departed.
Roger shook his head, looking at the circlet with horror, as if accepting it would mean the end of his relationship with Nightbird, would mean that he might get away while the ranger died. "I came north with you, indeed I urged you north, and so I shall stand beside you. If we are to die, then we are to die together."
"Well spoken," said Elbryan, "but foolish. I am not telling you to run and hide because I fear for you, Roger Lockless. Indeed, your course may prove more perilous than my own! Once Markwart has me, dead or captured, and Bradwarden and the monks —and once the King, if he really is with the Father Abbot, has taken Shamus Kilronney—they will search no further. You alone have the wiles and relative anonymity to get through. I'll not argue the point. When we came north, we agreed that I would lead. Take Symphony and go. Get behind Markwart's forces and get to Pony's side in Palmaris."
Roger looked to Bradwarden for support, but found that the centaur was completely in agreement with the ranger's decision.
"You believe that Avelyn's power will defeat the Father Abbot?" Roger asked, his voice trembling. As he spoke, he reached out and accepted the circlet.
The ranger shrugged. "I had thought us dead up here already," he replied. "Who knows what miracles the spirit of Avelyn has left to bestow?"
Roger and Symphony went out soon after, the man wearing the cat's-eye circlet that enabled him to see in the dark. The trails remained treacherous for a horse, but Symphony managed them, and long before the dawn arrived, Roger was far into the mountains, on a trail near Markwart's expected course, lying low and, like those perched atop Mount Aida, waiting.
They should not have been able to get through the mountains, for the trails at the higher elevations remained thick with snow. But Markwart sent out monks with rubies and lent them some of his own strength. The stones released blasts of fire that disintegrated great drifts into puddles and steam.
Soon after noon, they saw Mount Aida. They would arrive before the sunset.
Ever curious, Roger left Symphony and crept closer, watching the displays of power with amazement. That feeling of awe only heightened as the full troop thundered by, the proud Allheart Brigade leading.
And then Roger's heart dropped, for he saw the prisoners and he could not mistake the thick golden hair of his dearest friend. He glanced around nervously, near panic. He had to get to Elbryan and let him know! He had to tell his friends, or try somehow to rescue Pony.
But the speed of this force daunted him. He could not beat them back to the Barbacan —not without being seen. And if he was seen, he knew that Markwart or some other monk would magically strike him dead on the field.
And any thought of going in to save Pony was ridiculous, he understood.
Roger Lockless could only sit and watch helplessly.
"Allheart," Shamus Kilronney groaned as the army made its way across the Barbacan's muddy floor. "We are doomed."
More than one soldier echoed that sentiment.
"Trust in Brother Avelyn," Braumin Herde reminded them all.
"And trust in yer King," Bradwarden added. "Ye said he was a good man, and a good man'll hear yer tale, and not think it the story of a criminal."
Elbryan, looking down at the approaching force, heard the words and considered every implication. If Bradwarden was correct, should they then make a stand here, firing arrows down upon soldiers and monks as they tried to make their way up to the plateau? What might King Danube say to their tale, to any tale, if some of his guards lay dead on Aida's slopes?
The ranger made his decision. Though many of the others, particularly Bradwarden, were not pleased to hear that they would not fight, they accepted the choice when the ranger explained his reasoning.
And so, like Roger Lockless, they sat and they watched. Later that afternoon, the leading edge of the powerful force neared the plateau.
"This is not Honce-the-Bear!" Brother Castinagis called down to them. "You have no authority here!"
In response came a barrage of lightning beyond anything the companions had ever seen, blasting stone into pieces flying all about them, forcing them to fall back until they were in the same helpless position they had been in when the goblins had come.
"Looks like yer King ain't much for talkin'," Bradwarden remarked grimly, stringing his bow.
"Let us see," Elbryan bade him, grabbing the bow to prevent the centaur from firing the first shot as the lead soldiers and monks clambered up the last slope. The soldiers were at the right-hand side —the only place where horses could negotiate the trail—monks at the left, where Elbryan and Bradwarden had first come up when retreating from the goblins.
And leading those monks was Marcalo De'Unnero.
"Oh, but ye got to let me at least kill that one!" Bradwarden cried.
"Thus we meet again, Nightbird," De'Unnero said, unbothered by the centaur.
"I will happily fight you one against one," the ranger replied.
The abbot found the offer tempting, but he remembered his place and his duty. "One day, perhaps," he replied, "before you are executed."
Bradwarden pulled free of the ranger and brought his bow up.
"I have been sent to warn you that if you offer resistance, Nightbird, then your friend Pony, who is now with the Father Abbot on the slopes below us, will be killed most horribly."
The ranger eyed him dangerously, not knowing whether to believe him. The words did stop Bradwarden.
"I am Targon Bree Kalas, Duke of Wester-Honce," one of the soldiers proclaimed, walking his mount forward. "Abbot De'Unnero speaks the truth, Nightbird. You have no fight here, and are fairly caught. Surrender to the Crown, and in exchange, I promise you a fair trial before the King."
The ranger looked at his friends, then slung Hawkwing over one shoulder and motioned for Kilronney's soldiers to put their weapons away. He wasn't quite thinking of surrender, though. He hoped to lure the would-be captors onto the plateau, hoped the power of Avelyn would save them once more. Then he would be quick to Markwart, he decided, and if the King got in his way, then Honce-the-Bear would need to find another king!
"You know me, Captain Kilronney," Duke Kalas went on. "Tell your friend, for I grow impatient. We have come six hundred miles to find you, and many of my soldiers desire a fight after so long and tiresome a journey."
"He is who he claims to be," Shamus said to the ranger.
Elbryan nodded. "Stand calm," he told his companions.
The ring closed about them. Closer, closer.
But no hum came from the mountain, no tingling of power from the arm of Avelyn.
"The magic must be used up," Shamus whispered.
"No," Brother Braumin realized. "These are not monsters, not minions of the demon dactyl."
"Not knowingly, perhaps," Elbryan said dryly. He looked at them all again and realized that they were waiting for his cue. If he drew Tempest and fought, then all of them would willingly join him, would die beside him.
But he could not do that. Not if Pony was the captive of Markwart.
"No!" cried a terrified and outraged Brother Mullahy, the normally quiet man pushed beyond his limits. "No! I'll not go back that my death becomes entertainment for fools who do not understand the truth of wicked Markwart."
"Calm, brother!" Braumin Herde cried out. Brother Castinagis moved to grab his friend and pull him back.
"Silence him," De'Unnero instructed a monk at his side, a monk holding a graphite.
"No!" Mullahy cried again, pulling free of Castinagis and running quickly to the one break in the enemy line, where the side of the plateau dropped away steeply.
"Stop him!" De'Unnero cried. But before the others could react, Brother Romeo Mullahy made his statement, the most profound and stirring statement he had ever made, one that touched the heart and soul of friend and foe alike.
Crying out for Avelyn Desbris, the young monk leaped over the edge, plummeting a hundred feet and more to his death on jagged rocks.
De'Unnero and many others blew a long and disappointed sigh.
Duke Kalas urged his horse and his Allheart soldiers closer; De'Unnero moved up the monks.
"What of it, Nightbird?" the Duke asked. "Have you or your friends any more surprises to offer?"
"You promised a fair trial," Nightbird replied.
Duke Kalas nodded, staring the man directly in the eyes.
The ranger drew out Tempest and threw it at the feet of the Duke's horse.
But Abbot De'Unnero got to the sword first, scooping it up and leading his monks quickly. He let Kalas and the Allheart soldiers take Shamus and the other Kingsmen as their prisoners, but he made sure Bradwarden, the renegade monks, and —most of all—Nightbird were in his care as they left the plateau.
Father Abbot Markwart watched the procession coming down Aida's sides with mixed emotions. Again he had gone up there in spirit, and again he had been prevented.
His confusion and anger increased when he came to understand that the ranger, the monks, and their friends had set up no magical barriers to block his way.
Now that the band of outlaws was taken, Markwart tried again to visit the plateau.