The Demon Awakens (DemonWars), page 64
“Out in the daylight near that swarm?” Avelyn asked doubtfully.
“Not a choice,” Bradwarden replied. “We’ll get behind the mountain arm and hope our enemy has not an army on the other side of it.”
Avelyn nodded and silently followed the indomitable centaur, denying his obvious exhaustion.
They were scrambling in the right direction, Elbryan knew, following their friends, though they certainly were not gaining any ground. Every so often, the pair crossed a low spot, a muddy puddle, and Elbryan spotted the deep tracks of Bradwarden. Widespread tracks, he noted hopefully; the centaur was in full run.
That was what Elbryan and Pony wanted. Duty told them that they must follow, but their higher purpose reminded them that all that mattered was the delivery of Avelyn. “Run on, Bradwarden,” Elbryan muttered more than once, and always Pony nodded her agreement.
Elbryan was surprised at how easy the mountain trails were to navigate, even in the dark. The Barbacan was an imposing range of tall rocky mountains, capped in snow year-round with many sheer cliffs, some with drops of two or even three thousand feet. But in this particular region, with the trail cutting between two such peaks and thus bringing the climbers nowhere near the top, the going remained steady and fairly easy. The ranger believed that they might see the other side, the slope down to the valley beyond, before the dawn. Avelyn had described the general layout to them all, had told of the valley and of the lone mountain that maps named Aida. In that description, the monk had noted often and hopefully that the barrier mountain range, though tall and ominous, was not wide.
So it was with some hope that Elbryan and Pony ran on, and though they could not possibly match the pace of the galloping centaur, they found many occasions when they could cross over a blocking outcropping of stone that Bradwarden would have had to circumvent. Perhaps with the dawn, they would sight their friends again and would be able to link up.
Even the pursuit seemed left behind, the fumbling giants not keeping pace. Elbryan’s one fear, though, was that the behemoths knew the region and thus knew a quicker way.
That fear came to fruition when Elbryan and Pony entered one long narrow pass, a jumble of boulders and scraggly trees sheltered from the strong winds, but, the pair both silently noted, without any obvious escape routes. Halfway along the trail through the gully, an ominous and familiar orange glow appeared—ahead of the pair.
Out stepped the giant, Togul Dek, still wearing no helm, its huge features twisted with rage. Roaring at the two humans—and all the louder when Elbryan banged an arrow off its tremendous breastplate—the behemoth jabbed its glowing spike first into the tree at its left, then in the one at its right, sending both up instantly as towering candles. Between the trees stepped the brute, outlined by fire, not bothered by fire; and Elbryan and Pony noted the dark silhouettes of another pair of giants behind it.
“Take him head-on,” the ranger instructed, and he dove to the muddy ground, wrapping his cloak tightly about him. He came up in a dash, to the side and not straight ahead, and Pony, trusting him, charged out from his wake, waving her sword menacingly, drawing the spike wielder’s attention.
The giant set its huge feet wide apart and slapped the demon-created spear across its open palm. It paid no heed to the ranger, for it knew he had nowhere to flee, and concentrated instead on the woman, brave and foolish, walking steadily to her doom.
Each step came more difficult to Pony. She heard a commotion far behind and understood that the other giants—probably three or four more, if her count at the previous fight was accurate—had sealed off that end of the gully. Where had Elbryan gone, she wondered, and why? Why hadn’t he just put Hawkwing to use, shooting arrow after arrow at the spike wielder’s unarmored head until the thing fell over dead? Then they could fight two against two, and try to break out into the night.
Pony shook the confusing possibilities from her thoughts. This was Elbryan, she reminded herself: the Nightbird, the ranger, elven trained.
Even as her resolve began to mount once more, she saw him, running right through the fires, along a low branch on the tree to the giant’s right. Flames licked at him, at his soggy muddy cloak, but he scampered along, buried by the blaze, bearing down on his unsuspecting enemy.
Pony howled and charged, drawing the monster’s full attention. She skidded up quickly and loosed a forked bolt of crackling lightning, striking hard the leader and both of the giants behind it.
Then, before Togul Dek had recovered from the lightning, Elbryan was upon the brute, the ranger running full out to the end of the branch, leaping high and hard, sword extended, throwing his arms wide to thrust the smoldering cape behind him. Tempest dove right into the giant’s face, while Elbryan’s booted feet were planted hard against the behemoth’s massive chest.
He had only one quick strike; he had to be perfect. And so he was, mighty Tempest blasting through bone and flesh, diving into the giant’s brain.
Togul Dek tried to respond, tried to lift the spike and bring it to bear, but the weapon flew from the suddenly weak hands, drawing a bright line in the dark air. It landed far to the side, upon a stone it fast reduced to flowing, molten lava, rolling down the side of the mountain, taking the spike with it, and that, in turn, melting all subsequent stone, the fiery avalanche gaining momentum.
Elbryan viciously wrenched his blade free, but held his footing as the giant fell backward, the ranger riding the behemoth like some felled tree. The two giants behind their leader did not know what to make of the scene, had not even noticed Elbryan until Togul Dek began that backward fall. And then, it was too late.
Elbryan hit the ground in a graceful forward roll, rushing up and stabbing hard, finding the crease between one giant’s huge breastplate and its pelvic armor. Throwing his momentum firmly behind the sword, the ranger drove it in to its hilt, then scrambled past, right between the brutes, drawing Tempest back out as he went. He cut a sudden, sharp turn, diving into yet another roll, this one aimed at the second giant as it swung its club. The weapon swished high of the mark, harmlessly—for Elbryan, at least. The wounded giant, clutching its torn guts, bent right into the weapon’s path and got clipped across the forehead. It went down hard, groaning, trying to shake the dizziness, growling against the searing pain.
Elbryan got in a fast strike on the still-standing brute, then darted out into the night. He didn’t think himself quick enough, though, thought the giant would get in one hit, but then the monster inexplicably dropped its club and howled, grasping at its visor.
Pony ran by, stabbing the standing giant hard in the back of the leg, then rushing out to join Elbryan.
“What did you do to its eyes?” the ranger asked, but Pony had no answer, only shrugged and kept on running.
Pursuit was close and fast, forcing the tired companions to stay at full speed. They came to a wall of stone, climbable, but Elbryan feared the giants would have an easier time than he and Pony, that the brutes would close in and simply pluck them off the wall before they got over.
No other options, the ranger decided, and so he scrambled ahead, hoping to get a firm handhold, that he might propel Pony over him, over the stone, out to freedom in the dark night. He neared the top when he heard Pony, just a few feet below him, cry out in surprise.
Elbryan turned and screamed, seeing a giant reaching for his lover. Pony had no weapon in hand—no weapon that Elbryan saw, at least—though she had her arm extended out toward the giant.
She yelled again, and something flew out from her grasp, rocketed into the giant’s visor with a resounding ring, and though the missile did not penetrate the helm, but rather bounced off, it hit with tremendous force, bending and creasing the metal into the giant’s face, and the brute fell away. Pony was quick to retrieve the stone, not willing to abandon such a powerful weapon.
Elbryan grabbed Pony by the shoulder and hauled her up, pulling her right past him, then pushing hard until she went over the lip of the ridge. The ranger dug in and scrambled for all his life, and got over the rim just ahead of reaching fingers, a second giant coming in for him.
Pony was fast to those fingers, her sword slashing hard, taking a couple from the hand, and then the pair were running again; and this time no pursuit was close behind.
“What did you do to the first at the base of the wall?” the ranger asked her.
“Lodestone,” Pony replied. “The gem rushes to targeted metal. I wish I had a hundred more like it!”
Elbryan looked back in the direction of the ridge and shuddered at the sheer power of the stone. He had thought his sword impressive, had thought himself a marvelous warrior, and so he was, but how did that measure against the power of the stones?
Elbryan was glad that Pony was on his side and that Avelyn, much more powerful than the woman, was on his side. That thought gave him hope that his monk friend would indeed defeat the demon that had come to Corona.
Though she didn’t understand its source, Tuntun watched the growing spectacle of the fiery avalanche with satisfaction. The elf had played only a minor role in the battle, fired only a single arrow. But such a shot! Tuntun had put her arrow right against a giant’s visor, right through the slit! In her mind, she replayed again its howl and saw again the sight of Elbryan and Jilseponie running out to the safety of the dark night.
Convinced that they were safe for the time being, the elf had then circled back, down below the scene of the fight, to rejoin her precious companion.
“I’ll take you no farther,” she said to Symphony, patting the muzzle of this animal that had served her so well. Even though the trails seemed easy for at least a short distance, Tuntun decided that it would be better for her to use stealth. Alone, the elf could run full out without any fear of detection.
“I know that you are smart enough to get away,” Tuntun whispered, and the great horse snorted as if he understood. The elf took her pack and her weapons—bow and a long dagger—and with a final look Symphony’s way, a final nod of appreciation, she ran off into the night.
CHAPTER 51
Aida
Elbryan and Pony were coming down the northwestern face of the mountainous barrier when dawn broke over the Barbacan. Only then was the size of the dactyl’s gathered army revealed, a swarming black mass that filled the whole valley between the long arms of a lone, smoking mountain, some ten miles or so to the north.
“How many?” Pony breathed.
“Too many,” the ranger said helplessly, having no better answer.
“And how are we to get to the mountain?” Pony asked. “How many thousands must we defeat even to reach its black rocky base?”
Elbryan shook his head determinedly, somehow sure his companion’s assessment was not correct. “A few sentries, perhaps,” he replied. “Nothing more.”
Pony eyed him skeptically.
“The demon is confident,” Elbryan explained, “inviting us in. The dactyl fears no mortal man and no monster, and it has no reason to believe that we would ever dare to move against it in such small numbers, small enough to enter the Barbacan unnoticed.”
“That has been our hope since the beginning,” Pony agreed.
“And that is our only hope now,” Elbryan said, “a hope to which we must hold fast. If the demon sets its army to block us, then so we shall be blocked, and not my sword, nor Avelyn’s magic, not Bradwarden’s strength, nor your own assortment of weapons, will possibly get us through so many swarming monsters.
“But it will not come to that,” the ranger went on. “Even if the demon dactyl thinks that some enemies have come to its home, as the armored giants and that terrible spear might indicate, it remains supremely confident that none in all the world can stand against it.”
“How do you know this?”
The simple question seemed to catch Elbryan off his guard. Indeed, how did he know so much about this enemy that he had never seen and had never battled before? In the end, the ranger realized that he did not know, that he was guessing, and hoping. He answered Pony only with a shrug, and that seemed enough. They had come too far to worry about things they couldn’t control, and so they started along once more, quickly picking a path down the side of the mountain. They were both weary after the long night of running, but neither entertained any thoughts of stopping to rest, not with so many monsters before them—and perhaps more than a few chasing them.
An hour later, moving across an open expanse of bare rock—the two friends feeling very exposed indeed!—Elbryan stopped suddenly and dropped to a crouch. Thinking danger at hand, Pony crouched as well, and reached her hand into a pocket, fingering her few stones.
“There!” the ranger said excitedly, pointing down across the valley to his left, toward the western arm of Aida. Beyond that black line of stone, a black dot, a solitary figure, moved steadily across the green carpet, making fast for a thick copse of trees.
No, Pony realized, not one figure, but two, a man atop a horse . . . a man atop a centaur!
“Avelyn and Bradwarden!” she whispered.
“Running hard for Aida,” Elbryan agreed. He looked back at Pony, his smile wide. “And with none chasing them, and none standing before them.”
Pony nodded grimly. Perhaps her love was right, perhaps the dactyl was indeed inviting them in. She had to wonder, though she said nothing aloud, was that a good thing?
The pair were off the mountain within the hour, making their way along its base, weaving in and out of boulders and patches of trees. They easily avoided the few bored goblin sentries that were about, and every so often came upon tracks that told them they were following the exact route Avelyn and Bradwarden had taken.
Finally they crossed over the mountain’s long arm and were surprised to find the ground very warm under their feet. Only then did the pair realize that this line of stone was not a solid ridge, but rather, like a living thing, was growing and changing. Most of the ridge was hard, but every so often, the pair caught a sudden glimpse of fiery orange, the lava flow bubbling up to the surface, then meandering across the hardened black stone like a crawling orange slug. Within a few minutes, each of these movements would cease, the lava gradually rolling over itself or gathering in a depression, and then quickly cooling, its glow fading to blackness.
“Like a living thing,” Pony remarked, taking more care where she subsequently stepped.
“Like the dactyl,” Elbryan replied. “Flowing out from Aida, encompassing all the world under its blackness.”
It was not a pleasant thought.
They were several hours behind their friends, Elbryan and Pony realized when they at last came upon the same expanse they had seen their friends traversing. There was no apparent resistance; behind this arm of Aida, this blocking ridge of black stone some twenty to thirty feet high, no monsters moved about and no sentries were visible.
They went into a copse of trees, such a stark contrast of teeming life next to the black wall of stone, and found again the centaur’s tracks. Soon a second set—the tracks of a heavy human, of Brother Avelyn—were visible beside those of Bradwarden, and it was not hard for the pair to surmise that the centaur might be getting tired.
But Bradwarden continued on, and so did Avelyn; and so did Pony and Elbryan, increasing their pace in the hope that they might catch up to their friends before they entered the caverns of the mountain. Perhaps, Elbryan pondered, if Avelyn and Bradwarden were scrambling about, looking for some way into the mountain . . .
It didn’t happen that way. The ranger and Pony exited the copse of trees, then crossed through a second and then a third, climbing to the lower reaches of Aida. As soon as they cleared that last copse, they saw an entrance, a great gaping hole, defying the slanting rays of the westering sun. If the appearance proved true, if this was indeed a way into the heart of Aida, then Avelyn and Bradwarden had long ago gone into the mountain and might even now be standing before the demon dactyl as Elbryan and Pony stood staring at the entrance. The anxious couple went back into the last copse and cut sticks, wrapping them with cloth to make torches.
Then, fearful that they would be too late, the pair split, left and right, and moved quickly and stealthily right up to the edge of the cavern entrance. Elbryan peeked around the stone and into the gloom; Pony did likewise from across the way; and they were somewhat relieved to find that this was indeed a deep cavern and that it was apparently empty.
Just inside, Elbryan noted the hooflike depression of the centaur’s track.
Keeping near the side wall, not daring to light a torch, the pair moved in tentatively, allowing their eyes to adjust to the rapidly diminishing light. All too soon, they were faced with a dilemma: light the torch or walk on in near-complete darkness.
Elbryan winced as the fire flared to life, as if expecting all the minions of the dactyl to descend upon him. After a few tense but uneventful moments, he motioned to Pony, and the pair crept along, coming to a place where the tunnel forked: one branch going right and level, the other left and down. Looking down the right-hand side, Pony noted that the tunnel forked again just a short way in, and the tunnel continuing to the right beyond that second fork showed yet another side passage.
“A veritable maze,” Elbryan moaned. He fell to his knees and moved the torch low, searching for some sign of his friends’ passing, but the ground was bare, unmarked stone.
“Straight ahead,” Pony declared a moment later, seeing her companion’s frustration. “Deeper into the mountain, and then down and to the left at the next fork.”
She spoke with determination, though it was only a guess—a guess that seemed as good to Elbryan as any he might make. They moved in deeper, then began a descent along a smooth and angled passageway. Elbryan gave up any thoughts of continuing his scan for tracks, knowing that to do so would only slow their progress. Avelyn and Bradwarden were wandering in here, probably as lost as were Elbryan and Pony. Sooner or later, one of the pairs, or perhaps both, would stumble upon the dactyl or some of its deadly minions.
