DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (241 page)

Pony looked west across the town, to the sun hanging low in the sky. Dusk was settling over the city, but it was still too light for her to pass unseen. Yet she could not wait for night.

But how? she wondered, looking again to her gemstones. Perhaps she should go after Markwart spiritually, with the hematite.

Pony glanced back down the cliff, to see Elbryan and the others already moving off the riverbank, and knew that she could not leave her corporeal form so vulnerable to friend and foe alike. Her gaze focused on the lodestone, the magnetite, the stone she had used against Markwart, the damning piece of evidence that would surely seal her doom should she ever go to trial.

She remembered what Bradwarden had hinted about that particular gem, about another use for its metal-attracting properties. She considered her diamond, which she could use to bring forth brilliant light, but could also use, she had learned in a battle at Caer Tinella, to create an absence of light.

The woman clenched the lodestone in one hand, ruby, serpentine, graphite, malachite, and hematite in the other and began her determined march, not moving from shadow to shadow, behind the cover of buildings, but walking straight and proud in open defiance.

The path was not straight for Elbryan and the others, for the streets, right down to the wharves, bustled with mounted soldiers, and more than two dozen Ursal warships, fully crewed, were tied to the piers.

They went from shadow to shadow, as swiftly as the ranger could manage. Roger rushed out to the side, motioning to Elbryan that he would scout the flank, and on they ran. They found allies, Prim O'Bryen among them, who bade Elbryan follow him to a safe place, but the ranger ran on, and the monks did not hesitate to follow.

Soon others were running, too, in the same general direction. Belster, and Prim, Heathcomb Mallory and Dainsey Aucomb, and many others, allies of Elbryan and Pony, or allies of Markwart, and even those neutral in the war who were, merely curious about the moving crowd.

As soon as she came into the city, just west of the docks, Pony found Allheart soldiers all about her. She kept her determined course, trying to appear inconspicuous, for, given the chaos of the day, the burning of buildings and the rousting of innocents from their homes, the streets were fairly packed with peasants rushing this way and that.

But she was seen and recognized, and the call went up.

Pony found her concentration, found her rage, and launched it furiously into the lodestone.

She reversed the magic, as she had done with the diamond in Caer Tinella that night long ago, thus instead of focusing the attraction powers of the stone upon a single item, as she had done with Markwart's tooth, she sent out a general repellent power. Though she understood the magnitude of the energy she was sending into the stone, she had no idea of how strong the force might be until a pair of Allheart riders charged to block her path. Twenty feet away, their horses started to skitter and buck, then began sliding backward! The riders, eyes wide with confusion, jerked weirdly, grabbing tightly to the reins before they went flying away. Vendors' carts uprighted, metal-handled doors flew open —flew in, even if they were hinged to open out—and within the houses she heard the surprised cries of women, their pans flying about wildly.

It became insane, out of control. More soldiers approached, some running, others riding. More soldiers went flying away. More horses skidded backward, some falling over, then sliding away on their sides.

Pony held to her focus, thought of her dead parents, of her dead child. She started to run, bowing her head, watching only the clearing path before her and trying hard to block out the sounds of confusion and destruction behind.

"Chaos, my King! Chaos!" the soldier cried, stumbling into the room where Danube and Constance quietly talked.

Duke Kalas rushed in on the messenger's heels.

"It is the woman, Jilseponie," the frantic soldier explained. "She moves openly through the streets with a power we do not understand, throwing us away before we can get near her!"

"Through the streets?" the King echoed. "Heading where?"

"Across the city to the west," the man cried. "Toward you, my King!"

Kalas started to cry out, but Danube cut him short, holding up his hand and shaking his head.

"To Chasewind Manor, more likely," Constance reasoned.

"She is after Markwart," the King agreed. "Prepare my carriage."

Constance tried to tell the King that he should remain protected. But Danube, like so many others in Palmaris that late afternoon, recognized that something momentous had begun here, and he would not be denied.

From the high wall encircling St. Precious' roof, Brother Talumus watched the commotion with mounting horror. He spotted Jilseponie moving determinedly along a distant street; he saw a pair of soldiers, and then a monk, go flying away from her as if they had stepped into a hurricane.

The level of magic awed him. He wondered what he had done in going to Master Engress, in beginning the course that had led to freedom for this one and her dangerous companions. They were supposed to run away, into hiding in deep mountain holes, never to be seen again.

But Talumus recognized that Jilseponie was not running away now, and knew instinctively where she was going.

Out from the abbey went Talumus and many other monks, running to the side of their Father Abbot.

In a darkened room deep within St. Precious, Belli'mar Juraviel kept his head down and waited for the tumult to subside. He had come in secretly, down an unused chimney, immediately after instructing Roger to go and warn their friends, thinking to rescue Tempest and Hawkwing, the elven weapons that did not belong in the hands of Markwart's Abellican Church.

He had hoped to meet his friends again, on the quiet fields north of the city. But in listening to the words of the scrambling monks that rushed outside the door of the small room, the elf knew that he would find no such enjoyment.

And now, worst of all, Juraviel had to sit quietly and wait until he could make his escape from the fortified abbey.

At an intersection not far from the abbey, Brother Talumus and his group found another band of monks running their way. De'Unnero and some of the monks from St.-Mere-Abelle had gone out to the fields north of Palmaris to search for signs of the escaped prisoners, and they, like everyone else in the city, it seemed, had come to learn of the brewing disaster.

"It is the woman," Talumus explained as the abbot ran to him.

De'Unnero considered the commotion all about him, the pointing fingers, the rushing soldiers and peasants, and turned west, toward the wealthier section of Palmaris, toward Chasewind Manor, and ran off at full speed.

And all the city swirled behind him, behind Pony, moving to converge on the great manor that used to house their beloved Baron and now held the dignitaries of the Abellican Church.

Too many soldiers and too many monks. They had not even reached the merchant section when a cry rang out and a host of monks charged at them. The group split apart on the ranger's orders. Brother Castinagis was caught almost immediately, though he put up a terrific fight and managed to drop two monks to the ground before being pulled down.

Brother Viscenti, surrounded, weapons leveled his way, threw up his hands in surrender, and then Braumin went down, offering no resistance other than begging his fellow monks to bear witness to this, to learn the truth of Markwart.

A monk leaped in front of Nightbird, dropping into a sudden crouch and spinning, leg flying high.

The ranger ducked and hit the foolish monk with a punch in the chest that seemed almost to break the man in half, and sent him shuddering down to the ground.

Another monk leaped in from the side, flying for the ranger's head. Nightbird caught him in midair and used his momentum to throw him far to the side, crashing into a vendor's cart of fish.

On ran the ranger, pained to see his friends pulled down behind him. Only Dellman was still running, and then he, too, was stopped, surrendering at the point of an Allheart soldier's spear.

Nightbird heard the clamor of horses coming down a side street and, fearing a patrol of soldiers, swerved aside down an alley.

But then he heard Roger's cry for him to come back, and he spotted his friend waving to him from a rooftop.

The horses were riderless, a stampede that seemed almost fitting in the wildness of the moment. Nightbird motioned to Roger, then ran to catch a horse.

"Oh, but I'd be a better ride than that old nag!" came a familiar, most-welcomed voice, and Nightbird focused on the sound just as Bradwarden threw the blanket from his telltale human torso, revealing himself.

He thundered by, and the ranger leaped atop his back.

"Chasewind Manor!" the ranger yelled.

"Ye think I'm not knowin'?" the centaur yelled back. "Even the damned horses knew!"

The gates of Chasewind Manor were closed and chained —the great metal gates of Chasewind Manor.

Pony winced, for a monk moved right behind them as she neared, and when her repelling magic blew the gates wide, snapping the chain, the poor man got smashed hard and thrown backward.

He lay on the ground, groaning, as Pony strode by.

Three others came out to face her. The first held a metal-tipped spear, which promptly snapped back into his face, dropping him straight to the ground, and then flying away as if it had been launched by the mightiest of ballistae. The second monk, having the misfortune of wearing a metal ring, assumed a fighting stance, then flailed wildly as he followed the spear.

But the third carried no metal and held his ground —until grim-faced Pony calmly held out her other hand and laid him low with a stroke of lightning.

Inside the great house, Bishop Francis and Abbot Je'howith scrambled to warn the Father Abbot. They found him sitting comfortably in his throne in the great audience hall.

They tried to tell him to flee.

Markwart, who wanted this confrontation as much as Pony wanted it, laughed at them. "Hinder her not," he instructed. "And know that when this day is through, our power will be even greater in Honce-the-Bear. Begone!"

The two monks, confused and frightened, glanced nervously at each other and ran off.

The King's carriage, surrounded by Allheart horsemen, thundered through the blasted gate just as Pony entered the house.

"There!" Duke Kalas cried to his soldiers, pointing to the woman. "Stop her!"

"No!" the King countermanded, and then he motioned for Kalas to sit beside him. "Let us see how this plays out," Danube explained to the surprised Duke. "This has been Markwart's fight from the beginning."

More soldiers, more monks, and even common folk, rushed into the courtyard.

"To the wall!" came the cry of a soldier, and all eyes turned to see the huge centaur crash through the hedge at the top of the eight-foot wall. Bradwarden could not make the leap cleanly, though he managed to get his forelegs and the bulk of his torso over the barrier before crashing. Then he and his rider rolled over, falling to the ground, Nightbird kicking far away from the tumbling centaur.

"Oh, but that hurt," Bradwarden groaned, struggling to rise. Nightbird started for him, but the centaur, seeing soldiers and monks closing fast, waved him away. "Go to her!" he cried.

Nightbird turned to face a soldier charging in with sword raised overhead, meaning to cleave the ranger's head in half.

Up came Nightbird's crossed arms, and he stepped forward, catching the man's hands on the downswing. He let the sword descend a bit lower, then threw it up high, punching the soldier in the face. Then he grabbed the man's arms and pulled the sword down again, knifing his hand between the soldier's hands, taking his sword. In the same devastating, brutally efficient movement, the ranger's free hand smashed the man on the side of the face and launched him sidelong to the ground.

Now Nightbird had a sword, and the door of the great house was in sight. But a dozen soldiers and twice that number of monks moved to block his path.

"Let him pass!" King Danube cried, standing tall in his carriage. Neither monk nor soldier dared to go against the man, their ranks parting as the ranger charged.

"Only him!" Danube called. "Ring the house and let no others enter!"

"You take a great chance," Constance remarked.

The look Danube gave her and Kalas was one of the coldest either of them had ever seen. "Damn Markwart," Danube quietly spat. "May Nightbird and Pony emerge as victors with the Father Abbot's head in hand."

Constance's eyes widened at the bold declaration, but Duke Kalas smiled and had to fight hard to stop himself from wrapping his King in a great hug.

Nightbird reached the door just as Je'howith and Francis came out. Francis moved to grab the ranger —and was promptly launched aside by a mighty punch, one that put him on his back on the grass.

Old Abbot Je'howith put up his hands and stepped aside.

"Ever the diplomat," King Danube remarked dryly.

The crowd converged on Chasewind Manor from every section of Palmaris, wealthy merchants and lowly peasants; a crowd of St. Precious' monks, confused and some crying; even a gathering of Behrenese, chanting loudly for the release of Captain Al'u'met.

Duke Kalas moved his forces, soldiers and monks alike, into defensive formations, holding back the crowd. The Duke understood that this whole situation could explode into a riot. In that case, he informed his soldiers, the safety of the King was paramount, no matter who had to be trampled into the dirt.

For the most part, the crowd stayed back, though the yells intensified. One man, an Abellican monk, did run through the line of soldiers, sprinting for the manor house.

The soldiers stopped him before he reached the doors.