The Demon Awakens (The DemonWars Saga #1) - Page 43

Winter's icy grip weakened at last, more than three weeks after the vernal equinox. Snow still fell, but often it turned in mid-storm to a cold rain, and ground that had been deep with white powder was now slick with gray slush. The change came as a mixed blessing to Elbryan and his forest band. While their lives certainly became more comfortable, their nights no longer spent so closely huddled to a fire that their eyebrows singed, winter's relaxed grip offered the invading monsters even more mobility. Now goblin, powrie, and fomorian giant patrols struck deep into the forest, and though these scouts were often discovered and destroyed by Elbryan's people, the danger to the group increased daily.

Pony still had not returned from the south. After three weeks, though, Paulson and his two trapper companions had come back with a fairly thorough description of the monstrous army's movements. It was as they had feared the monsters using the occupied towns as base and supply camps while they sent their dark tendrils further south, first in probes, but soon, so Paulson believed, in great numbers.

"They'll strike Landsdown within a week, unless we get hit with another storm," Paulson explained grimly.

"The season's past," Avelyn remarked. "There will be no more storms severe enough to slow our enemies."

Elbryan agreed; Belli'mar and the other elves — who remained far in the shadows about the human camps, hidden from all save the ranger and the centaur had told him as much.

"Then Landsdown's to fall," said Paulson.

"We must get word to them," Avelyn offered, looking at the ranger, who in turn looked at Paulson.

"We already felled some farmers," Paulson explained, "and yer girl's been through with the same news."

Elbryan perked his ears up considerably at that bit of news.

"But will they listen?" Avelyn wanted to know.

"Who's to make them?" asked Paulson.

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Elbryan closed his eyes and considered that. Indeed, the men and women of the frontier towns north of Palmaris could be a stubborn lot! The ranger decided then that it was time to put Belli'mar's troop to good use. The mobile elves could get to Landsdown ahead of the monsters, and if the sight of an elf didn't shake some sense into thick heads, then let the folk of Landsdown get what they deserved!

"I will see to Landsdown," the ranger promised, and he moved on to other matters. "What of our own folk?"

"We've got a hundred not taking well to the life," said Bradwarden. "Tough enough folic, but we've asked too much o' them."

"Is there any place we might take them?" the ranger asked.

The three trappers were at a loss; Brother Avelyn could think of no sanctuary closer than St. Precious in Palmaris, but how they could ever get a hundred people that far south without alerting the monsters was beyond the monk. Bradwarden's expression told the ranger that the centaur was thinking along the same lines as he, that the elves and the sanctuary of their hidden home might prove valuable here. But Elbryan, who had lived long in Andur'Blough Inninness, didn't think it likely that so many humans, however desperate their situation might be, would be invited in. Belli'mar Juraviel, easily the friendliest of the elven band, and the one most acquainted with humans, had even refused to be seen among the encampments, explaining that his presence would probably only frighten those too foolish to know friend from foe.

"Then we must make a place for them," the ranger decided, "and keep them away from our enemies until such time as we may usher them far to the south, behind the militia lines of Honce-the-Bear's Kingsmen." He looked at Paulson, Cric, and Chipmunk. "See to it," he bade them, and they nodded.

Good solders, Elbryan mused.

The next week moved along uneventfully. Elbryan, Bradwarden, and Avelyn came upon a group of a dozen goblins chopping firewood, and summarily destroyed them. When a fomorian came rushing to the goblins' rescue, Bradwarden tripped the giant, and the first thing it saw when it looked up — and the last thing it ever saw — was the fierce ranger glaring down at it, powerful Tempest sweeping down.

Elbryan had little contact with the elves that week. He had met with Juraviel soon after his fireside discussion with his more conventional commanders, and the elf had reluctantly agreed to send a handful of his fellows south to warn Landsdown.

"I fear that we are being dragged into the middle of a fight that is meant for humans," Juraviel had groaned, to which" Elbryan only lightly responded, "Of your own accord."

At the end of the week, Juraviel and Tuntun came to the ranger with welcome news indeed. "The folk of Landsdown are on the road south ahead of the advancing monsters," Juraviel explained. "Every one."

"And they are being met and ushered more swiftly by soldiers of your king," added Tuntun.

"My thanks to you and yours," the ranger said solemnly with a low bow.

"Not to us" — Tuntun laughed — "for the folk were on the road before we ever arrived."

Elbryan's expression turned quizzical.

"Your thanks to her," explained Juraviel, and on cue, Pony stepped out of the shadows of a thick spruce.

Elbryan rushed to her, embracing her in a huge hug. It took him some time to realize that the elves had announced her, and thus, that the elves had met her! He looked from Pony back to Juraviel and Tuntun.

"You had already told her of us," Juraviel said dryly.

"But I believe our appearance shocked her anyway," added Tuntun, again, in better spirits than was normal for the surly elf.

"I was still in Landsdown, the last one there, when they came upon me," Pony explained.

Elbryan looked her over carefully, satisfied that she, was not injured, only muddy and weary from so long a ride.

"All the way to Palmaris," she answered his unspoken question. "No horse will ever match the run of Symphony! He took me all the way to Palmaris without complaint, and all the way back at equal speed. The kingdom is alerted now, the soldiers are on the road, and our enemies will win no more victories by surprise."

Elbryan lifted his hand to brush back a stray lock of the woman's thick, dirty hair. He turned his fingers gently to flick a speck of mud from her cheek, though his gaze never left her shining blue eyes. How much he loved her, admired her, respected her! He wanted to crush her to him, to make love to her forever, and to protect her — and that was his dilemma, for if he tried to protect this marvelous woman, Jilseponie Ault, then he would surely be stealing the very essence of her, the will and the strength that he so loved.

"All the world should thank you," he whispered. He turned to make a remark to the elves, but the pair, so wise in the ways of all the world, were long gone, granting the lovers their privacy.

"They knew we were out here, in great numbers, and now they wonder why the signs have lessened," Elbryan explained to Avelyn, the ranger astride his horse, beside the standing man just inside the cover of thick trees lining a bowl- shaped field. A blanket of slushy snow still covered the field, shining blue- white in the pale light of a bright half moon. Diagonally, across the field to the northwest, moving through the stark lines of thinner trees, came three forms, obviously goblin scouts.

"Perhaps they will believe that we have all departed," Avelyn offered hopefully. Indeed, more than two thirds of the human group had gone further to the east, leaving less than forty warriors at Elbryan's disposal, not counting the secretive elves, whose number even the ranger didn't know.

"That would be their mistake," the ranger answered grimly.

The tone of his voice made Avelyn glance his way, and the monk was glad to see that Tempest was still sheathed at the side of the saddle Belster O'Comely had commissioned for Elbryan before the coming of the monsters, and that Hawkwing was likewise in place, on a holder that looped the bow about a quiver of arrows.

But then, to Avelyn's surprise, Elbryan stepped Symphony out of the shadows onto the mild southern slope of the bowl-shaped vale, out of cover.

Across the way, perhaps a hundred yards, the goblins stopped and stared, then scrambled among the trees, fitting arrows to bowstrings.

"Elbryan!" Avelyn whispered harshly. "Come back!"

The ranger sat quietly, cutting a regal figure, his bow and sword at rest.

Three arrows went up into the night sky, errant shots that landed far short or far wide of the ranger.

"They do riot even believe that we can see them," Elbryan said quietly, obviously amused.

Avelyn scrambled out to Elbryan's side, putting Symphony between him and the goblins. "Better that we had not seen them," the monk huffed, "or better still that they had not seen us!"

"Calm, my friend," the ranger replied as another arrow thudded into the snowy ground, barely twenty feet away. Brave Symphony held perfectly steady; Elbryan wished that his human friend had as much faith.

Avelyn peeked under Symphony's head, to see that the goblins had gone to the bottom of the field's slope, still under the respectable cover of the stark deciduous trees.

"Three shots at a time, and they're likely to get lucky," Avelyn remarked. The monk looked up to see Elbryan slowly bringing Hawkwing to bear, then, with hardly a movement;. letting fly an arrow.

Avelyn looked back in time to see a goblin catch it in his chest. He couldn't see the arrow, of course, just the sudden jerk of the dark silhouette, followed-by a backward drop to the ground. The other two scrambled in sudden retreat, slipping as they tried to get back up the slope.

Elbryan held his pose, his bowstring fully drawn and perfectly steady.

"Get them quick," Avelyn prodded.

"It must be sure," Elbryan answered. "There can be no miss." He waited as the goblin pair weaved, then at last found his opening and let fly, the arrow cutting a straight, swift line to take a second goblin in the side of the head. The one remaining howled and scrambled, fell to its belly, and slid halfway back to the bottom.

"Oh, get him!" cheered Avelyn. "Ho, ho, what!"

But Elbryan had put up his bow, sitting calmly on Symphony, his' head tilted back, his eyes closed, as if he were simply enjoying the breeze of the moonlit night.

"What?" Avelyn asked, the monk watching the goblin running off once again to the top of the ridge and then beyond, lost from view. "Ho, ho, what?"

Elbryan slowly opened his eyes and looked down at the man. "It is all about reputation," the ranger explained, and he turned Symphony and started walking back to the trees.

"Reputation?" Avelyn echoed. "You let the last one get away! It will surely report that we have not left, that we, that you, at least, remain. . ." The monk's voice trailed off and a smile spread across his round face. Of course, the terrified goblin would return, blabbering its report. Of course, the goblin would tell them that the mysterious ranger on his mighty stallion remained, would tell them that death waited for them in the forest.

"Ho, ho, what!" Avelyn bellowed in sincere admiration. "Let them know of Elbryan, then!"

"No," the ranger corrected. "Let them know of Nightbird. Let them know and let them be afraid."

Avelyn nodded as he watched the ranger and his mount melt away into the forest night. Indeed, he thought, and well they should be afraid!

Elbryan did his sword-dance, as he had done so many times in Andur'Blough Inninness. Tempest weaved its wondrous lines about him slowly-turning, stooping, and rising in perfect balance. One foot followed the other and then took up the lead: step, step, thrust, and retreat.

All flowed slowly, beautifully. He was the embodiment of the warrior, this muscular naked man, the height of harmony, one with his weapon.

From the trees behind Elbryan, Pony and Avelyn watched awestruck. They had come upon the scene quite accidentally, and the monk, seeing Elbryan first and seeing that he was quite naked, had tried to turn Pony down a different path. But she, too, had spotted the man, and no amount of coercing from Avelyn would deflect her.

In watching Elbryan, his graceful moves, his trancelike intensity, Pony came to know so much more of him, to see him as clearly as if she were lying in his arms, sharing his heights of passion and joy.

This was different but no less intense, she realized. Like their coupling, this was a joining of body and spirit, a physical meditation somehow above the norm of human experience, somehow sacred.

Avelyn had seen this type of practice before — it was not so different from the physical training the monks received at St.-Mere-Abelle — but he had never seen a dance as graceful as Elbryan's, as perfectly harmonious.

And Tempest, seeming no more than an extension of the ranger, only added to that beauty, the light sword swishing about, leaving a glowing trail of bluish-white.

"We should be away," the monk whispered to Pony as Elbryan came to one long pause in his routine.

Pony didn't disagree; perhaps they were indeed peeping at something which was Elbryan's alone. But as the ranger started his movements again, as Tempest came up and about, perfectly level and parallel with his broad shoulders, she found that she could not turn away.

Nor could Avelyn.

Elbryan finished soon after and slumped to the grass; Pony and Avelyn stole away.

When Pony met Elbryan more than an hour later, she had to work hard to hide her feelings of guilt, her feelings that she had somehow violated him. Finally, it was too much.

"I saw you this morning," she admitted.

Elbryan raised an eyebrow.

"At your exercise," Pony admitted. "I — I did not mean…" She stopped, stammering, and lowered her gaze.

"And were you alone?" said Elbryan.

Something in his tone brought Pony's gaze up to meet his, and in the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, the woman found the truth revealed.

"You already knew!" she accused.

Elbryan brought a hand to his chest, as if wounded.

"You knew!" Pony said again, and she slapped her hand against his shoulder.

"But I did not know if you would tell me," the ranger said evenly, and Pony backed away.

"We came upon you by accident," the woman explained. Pony glared at him.

"Yes, you and Avelyn," Elbryan revealed.

After a long pause, Pony asked bluntly, "Are you angry?"

Elbryan smiled warmly. "There is nothing I wish to hold secret from you." "But I remained," she went on, "I watched you until the end of your dance."

"I would have been disappointed if the sight of me so could not hold you in place," Elbryan said playfully, and all tension was abruptly gone.

Pony wrapped the man in a hug then, and gave him a deep kiss. "Will you teach it to me?" she asked. "The dance, I mean."

Elbryan looked hard into her face. "It was a gift to me from the Touel'alfar," he explained. "A gift that I will, in turn, offer to you, but only with the blessings of the elves."

Pony was honored, and she moved to kiss Elbryan again, but a rustle at the side caught her attention.

Paulson moved out of the brush. "The caravan must've traveled half the night," he said, referring to a goblin supply train they had been watching, coming from the north. "We hit it today, or it makes Weedy Meadow."

"Are they still along the river?" asked Elbryan.

The big man nodded.

Elbryan looked at Pony, who understood her role; and without further bidding, she ran off to find Avelyn and gather together those warriors who had been put under her charge.

Elbryan closed his eyes and sent his thoughts into the forest, to Symphony — the stallion grazing, as always these days, not so far away.

"Let us be off," the ranger then said to Paulson, "to prepare the battlefield as best suits us."

There was no high ground in the path of the caravan, except those hills surrounding Weedy Meadow, and that locale would be too close to the occupied village. Elbryan and his forces had to go out further to the north, had to intercept and destroy the caravan before any aid could come from the monsters already encamped in the area.

But there was no high ground, just thick woodlands, giving way to the brown and gray stones that lined the riverbank. At least the river would form a barrier to their enemies, the ranger thought, preventing an easy escape.

"Two groups coming," Bradwarden explained, catching up to Elbryan and the others as they determined their attack routes. "Small one in front, goblins mostly, but with a giant helping, cutting the trees and clearing the way."

"For wagons?" Elbryan asked, and he hoped that he was right.

"War engines," the centaur explained. "Two big contraptions, catapults, all set on wheels and pulled by three giants each."

"Too many," muttered Paulson, standing at Elbryan's side.

The ranger looked at the man, no coward certainly, and wasn't sure that he could disagree. Seven giants — at least — and a host of powries and goblins might indeed be more than the ranger and his band could handle.

"Well, we can hit at them anyway," Paulson offered a moment later. "But we best be ready to run off if the tide turns against us."

Elbryan looked at Bradwarden. "What of scouts?" he asked.

"Oh, they've plenty o' goblin rats running about the trees," the centaur replied, smiling widely as he lifted a twig to pick his teeth. "Two less, now," he said mischievously.

The ranger made a subtle movement, one that only Bradwarden caught, putting his finger up beside his ear, indicating a pointy ear, thus an elf.

The centaur nodded; the elves were in the area, and Elbryan was confident that he and his band would not have to worry much about any goblin scouts.

Pony came riding in then on a roan mare, one of several wild horses that would allow themselves to be ridden. Brother Avelyn came huffing and puffing behind her, the monk trotting along without complaint.

"The most important task before us is the destruction of the war engines," Elbryan decided. "For surely they will be put to deadly use against the towns to the south, even against the high walls of Palmaris."

The ranger paused for a while and considered all that he had heard. "How many in the front group?" he asked the centaur.

"Ah, a motley bunch," Bradwarden replied sourly, as if even speaking of the creatures left a foul taste in his mouth. "A dozen, I'd say, hacking at the trees, tearing at them, while the giant clears what's fallen. Ugly wretches. I'll kill the lot of them, if ye want."

Elbryan almost believed that the centaur would do just that. "Can you handle a giant?" he asked.

Bradwarden snorted as if the very question were insulting.

The ranger turned to Pony. "Take ten and the centaur," he explained. "You must destroy that front group and quickly. The rest will come in with me to cut off the main caravan, right in between the groups."

"Facing six giants?" Paulson asked skeptically.

"Drawing their attention," the ranger explained, "long enough for Avelyn to burn the powrie catapults. After that, we can scatter as we must, but my hope is that many monsters will be dead in the wreckage."

"But they have scouts," Paulson argued. "They might be knowing we're about afore e'er we get near them."

"The scouts are all dead," Elbryan said firmly. Paulson, and many others, looked at him hard.

"Yer elfin friends?" the big man asked. "I'm not sure I'm liking that."

"Tell me that after the battle," Elbryan replied wryly, then to Pony he shouted, "Be off!"

Paulson sighed, accepting the ranger's word for it. He was surprised when Pony tapped him on the shoulder, indicating that she wanted him and Cric and Chipmunk to work with her group up front.

"We will come straight in. at them along the riverbank," Pony explained to Elbryan as she and the others moved away.

"And we hit from the side, through the trees," the ranger replied. He nodded at his beloved. He could feel that tingling excitement, prebattle, and he knew Pony felt it, too. Indeed, there was danger for him and for Pony, but this was their life, this was their destiny, and for all the' horror and all the fear, it was exciting.

Elbryan had to grit his teeth and let the front group of monsters move past his position, though with every hack of a goblin axe against one of the beautiful trees, the ranger wanted to rush out and cut the creature down.

The goblins and their giant escort moved along slowly but steadily, and soon after, Elbryan and his companions heard the rumble of the war engines, the grunts of the towing giants.

"Hold until they are right upon us," the ranger instructed, "then let fly your arrows and loose your spears. Aim for the giants only," the ranger quickly added. "They are the most dangerous. If we can bring a couple of them down with the first volley, our enemies will be at a sore disadvantage."

"And if we don't?" surly Tol Yuganick grumbled. "Are we to run in front of six giants to be squashed?"

"We hit at them as hard as we safely can," the ranger replied evenly, trying to keep his continuing frustration with the disagreeable man out of his voice, "and then, when we must, we flee. A single caravan is not worth risking many casualties."

"Easy for you," Tol snapped back, "up on that fast horse of yours. The rest of us are running, and I'm not thinking that many can outrun the likes of a giant!"

Elbryan glared at the man, wishing that Pony had taken him with her group, or even that Tol had been sent off to the east with the other refugees. Tol was a fierce fighter, but the amount of discord he caused made him a detraction, not an asset.

"Wait until they close," the ranger said again, addressing the whole group. "They think that they have scouts in place, and will be caught unawares. Concentrate your missiles on the giants pulling the front catapult. Let us see what remains after the first volley."

He turned to Avelyn then. "How many will you need with you?"

The monk shook his head. "None," he replied. "Just keep their attention ahead of them, and I will get in behind! Stay back from the catapults, I warn you. I am feeling quite powerful this day!"

With that, the monk scrambled off into the brush, and Elbryan nearly laughed aloud watching him go, watching the light step that had come over Brother Avelyn Desbris. The monk had found peace within himself, ironically, in the midst of a war, a battle that Avelyn knew justified the actions that had weighed so heavily on him these last years.

Elbryan turned his attention back to the scene before him, ten yards of trees, followed by a few yards of cleared brush, a dozen feet of river stones, and then the river itself, waters rushing fast with the beginning of the spring melt. He heard the rumble of the war engines above that watery voice and discerned, by the alternating sounds, both sharp and muffled, that the caravan was moving right along the edge of the riverbank.

The ranger motioned to his companions, who started slinking from tree to tree, setting up their shots. Elbryan held his place, behind the tangled branches of two close hemlocks. He glanced about for the elves, and hoped that they were nearby. None in all the world could better concentrate their shots, and even a giant, the ranger knew from personal experience, could be brought down by the small arrows.

Up in front, one of the women signaled that the caravan was nearly upon them.

Elbryan fitted an arrow to Hawkwing and eyed his course. He contacted Symphony telepathically, and the horse nickered softly.

The first of the giants came into sight, bending low, pulling hard, a heavy harness strapped across its torso. Two others were close behind, in similar posture. "'

Elbryan felt the anxious gazes of his companions upon him, waiting for him to start it all. He was somewhat concerned that no sounds of battle came to him from further south, from the lead group, but he and his companions were committed, he knew, and would have to trust that Pony would not let the goblins and giant get behind them, cutting off any quick retreat.

The ranger let fly his first arrow even as he kicked his heels against Symphony's ribs and the horse leaped forward.

The lead giant grunted, more in surprise than in pain, when the bolt dove into tiffs shoulder, and then all the air about the monster and its two companions erupted as a dozen arrows and nearly that many spears came slicing in.

Elbryan fired again and again, scoring a hit each time as Symphony guided him to the open ground before the caravan. By the time he got there, the lead giant was down and dead, the other two were scrambling to get out of their encumbering harnesses, while a score of powries and twice that number of goblins were hooting and rushing about, grabbing for weapons or diving for cover.

Out came several of Elbryan's companions, right behind him, and all of them, and the ranger too, breathed a sigh of relief to finally hear the sound of battle behind them.

One of the powries stood tall on the first catapult, barking out commands.

The ranger's next shot laid the dwarf low.

Pony charged in hard, running her horse right across the lead line of goblins, her sword slashing hard across the face of one, then darting out to stick a second in the throat. This was the easy part, she knew, for she and her companions had caught the monsters by surprise, and diminutive goblins couldn't take a solid hit. Before the woman had even swung her sword, half the small creatures lay dead or squirming in agony on the ground.

But then there was the not so little matter of a fomorian giant.

Pony tugged hard on her mare's mane, turning the horse when she saw the behemoth moving to intercept. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the galloping charge of Bradwarden, the centaur singing at the top of his considerable voice, waving a huge cudgel as easily as if it were a tiny baton.

The giant braced as the centaur came in, but Bradwarden skidded short and leaped about, putting his tall closest to the monster. Thinking that the centaur had changed his mind and was trying to flee, the giant lunged for that tail, but Bradwarden's haunches came up high, the centaur kicking out with both his hind legs, hard hooves perfectly aligned with the stooping monster's ugly face.

The giant staggered backward, its legs buckling under it.

Singing wildly, the centaur charged in, bashing the monster about the head with his heavy club.

Then Pony rushed by, her sword slashing a line across the side of the giant's neck.

"Hey, but ye're stealing me fun!" the centaur protested, leaping about again and snapping off a second mighty double kick, this one connecting on the giant's massive chest and throwing the monster flat to the ground.

Bradwarden smiled, seeing Pony run down another goblin, seeing all the wretched creatures falling fast before the deadly group. And seeing, most of all, the giant, dazed and helpless, up on its elbows, its head lolling about.

Perfect height for an underhand swing.

The second giant went down before it ever got out of the harness. The third did get out, but Elbryan put an arrow into its eye, and half a dozen other arrows hit it in the neck and face.

It, too, slumped to the ground.

Of mote concern, though, were the powries, taking up their weapons, and the giants from the second catapult, out of their harnesses and with hardly a scratch on them.

"Hurry, Avelyn," Elbryan muttered under his breath. "Do not delay."

"Here comes Jilly! Flying fast!" one man cried, and Elbryan was truly glad for the timing and for the much-needed boost to his group's tentative morale. The monstrous troop in the south had been overrun, so it seemed.

"Concentrate your shots on the giants!" the ranger bellowed, and then under his voice, he repeated, "Hurry, Avelyn."

* * * Bradwarden galloped off to catch the woman and her fast-flying roan, but the centaur skidded to a stop, seeing Chipmunk teasing free a pair of daggers from a dead goblin, but with tears streaming down his face.

"It's Cric!" the man wailed. "Oh, my Cric!"

Bradwarden followed his gaze to a tumble of a pair of goblins and, unmistakably, a bald-headed human lying among them.

"He's dead!" the small nervous man declared.

"Where is yer third?" the centaur asked. "The big one?"

"Paulson's running up ahead," Chipmunk explained. "Says he'll kill every goblin, every powrie, every giant."

"Get on me back, man, and hurry!" the centaur ordered, and Chipmunk did just that. On they charged, Bradwarden singing a rousing song and Chipmunk forcing away his tears, locking them behind a wall of sheer anger.

Avelyn crouched behind a tree, barely ten feet from the side of the trailing catapult. The monk's frustration mounted, for though two of the giants had run off toward the fighting up front, the third had remained defensively in place, with a host of powries staying up on the catapult, some of them with crossbows.

Avelyn would have to get closer, he knew, for his fireball to have any real effect, but if he went out in the open, he figured that he would be grabbed or shot down before he ever loosed the magical blast.

The monk understood the situation up front, understood that Elbryan could not buy him very much more time without endangering many lives. He called up his serpentine shield and, purely on instinct, he rushed out of the brush and dove to the ground, rolling right under the catapult.

He heard the. powries crying out, knew that he hadn't much time, and tried to focus on the ruby, on its mounting energy.

Then the giant was kneeling beside the catapult, its face down to the ground, its long arm reaching under for poor Avelyn.

He had to roll away, but then, stopped suddenly as a small crossbow bolt skipped off the ground right beside him. He glanced back to see a pair of powries crawling under the war engine, coming for him with prodding spears.

Avelyn closed his eyes and prayed with all his heart. He felt the tingling power of the ruby, as if it were begging for release; he imagined the sudden stabbing pain when