DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (136 page)

Or maybe, Brother Braumin mused—and he thought this to be the most likely explanation—the fact that St. Precious was lighter of heart than St.-Mere-Abelle was a reflection of the mood of the respective abbots. Dobrinion Calislas, by all accounts, was a man not unaccustomed to smiling; his great belly laugh was well-reported in Palmaris, as was his love of the wine—elvish boggle, some said—his penchant for games of chance—among friends only—and his love of officiating a grand wedding where no expenses had been spared.

Fattier Abbot Markwart didn’t smile much, Braumin knew, and on those occasions when he did, those not in his favor grew very ill at ease.

Late that afternoon, Braumin stood in the carpeted hallway outside the door of Abbot Dobrinion’s private quarters. Many times he lifted his hand to knock on the door, only to let it fall silently by his side. Braumin understood the chance he would be taking if he went in to speak with the man now, if he told Abbot Dobrinion of his fears concerning Markwart and of the quiet alliance that had been forged against the Father Abbot. On the one hand, Braumin felt he had little choice in the matter. With Master Jojonah gone, and on a long road that would keep him out of Braumin’s life for years, it appeared, Braumin was powerless to make any moves against Father Abbot Markwart’s decisions, particularly the decision that had sent Jojonah away in the first place. Making an ally of Abbot Dobrinion, who by all indications was not having a good time of it on his own against the Father Abbot, might greatly strengthen the cause for both men.

But on the other hand, Braumin Herde had to admit that he really didn’t know Abbot Dobrinion very well, particularly the man’s politics. Perhaps Abbot Dobrinion and Father Abbot Markwart were bickering over control of the prisoners simply because each wanted the glory of recovering the stones. Or perhaps Abbot Dobrinion’s objections were borne on the wings of simple anger that Markwart had come into St. Precious and usurped a good deal of his power.

Brother Braumin spent nearly half an hour standing in that hall, contemplating his course. In the end Master Jojonah’s words of wisdom proved the deciding component. “Quietly spread the word,” his beloved mentor had bade him, “not against Father Abbot or any others, but in favor of Avelyn and those of like heart.”

Patience, Brother Braumin decided. This was the long war of Mankind, he knew, the internal struggle of good and evil, and his side, the side of true goodness and godliness, would win out in the end. He had to believe that.

Now he was miserable and feeling so very alone, but that was the burden the truth in his heart forced upon him, and going to Abbot Dobrinion at this dangerous time was not the proper course.

As it played out in the weeks ahead, Brother Braumin Herde would come to regret this moment when he walked away from Abbot Dobrinion’s door.

“Maiyer Dek and the powrie, Kos-kosio,” Pony said, feeling very pleased at the outcome in Caer Tinella. She, Elbryan, Tomas Gingerwart, and Belster O’Comely were sitting about a campfire in the refugee encampment, eagerly awaiting the return of Roger Lockless and the other scouts, trying to get a full measure of the impact of this night’s raid on the monsters. The news would be good, all of them fully suspected. Several other monsters in addition to the two leaders had been slain, but they, even the three giants, were not overly important, not compared to the giant leader and the powrie leader—and especially given the fact that Maiyer Dek had been the one to kill Kos-kosio, and in full view of many powrie allies!

Before the coming of the demon dactyl, giants and powries had rarely allied, indeed had hated each other as much as each hated the humans. Bestesbulzibar had halted that feud, and with the fall of the demon, the alliance had only continued out of necessity, since both armies were deep into the human lands.

But it was a strained thing, an alliance waiting for an excuse that it might turn into a feud.

“If we had convinced Maiyer Dek to join with us, we could not have gotten him to aid us any more than he did,” Elbryan remarked with a chuckle. “My hopes soared when I saw him throw the powrie leader into the fire.”

“And with Maiyer Dek and three of his giant kin dead,” Pony added, “we can expect that the powries, angry at the giants, now have the clear upper hand.”

“Except that goblins are more friendly to giants than to the wicked dwarves,” Tomas Gingerwart noted. “Even though giants often eat them!”

“True enough,” Elbryan admitted. “Perhaps the sides are fairly equal, then, for Caer Tinella was swarming with the wretched goblins. But unless one of great charm can be found among the ranks, and quickly, I suspect the fighting in the town has only just begun.”

“Here’s hoping they kill each other to the last,” Belster O’Comely said, lifting a mug of ale—compliments of Roger Lockless—into the air, then taking a tremendous swallow, draining the mug.

“So they are weaker, and our force has grown by a score ready to fight,” Tomas put in.

“A score ready to help the others get past the towns and to the southland,” Elbryan corrected. “We, all of us, have seen enough battle.”

“To Palmaris!” Belster roared, finishing with a loud belch.

Tomas Gingerwart was not amused. “A month ago, even a week ago, even two days ago, I would have been satisfied with that,” he explained. “But Caer Tinella is our home, and if our enemies are truly weakened, it may be time for us to reclaim the town. That was the plan, was it not? To wait until we took a measure of our enemies and then strike?”

Elbryan and Pony exchanged nervous glances, then looked back to the resolute man, truly empathizing with his desires.

“This is a discussion for later,” the ranger said calmly. “We do not know how strongly the monsters remain entrenched in Caer Tinella.”

Tomas snorted. “You got in,” he said. “How much more devastating might the raid have been if all of our warriors were there to fight beside you?”

“Devastating to both sides, I fear,” Pony replied. “We stung the monsters and freed the prisoners only because of the element of surprise. If Maiyer Dek had seen a greater force approaching, he would have ordered every one of the captured men slain, and the defense of Caer Tinella would have been more stubborn by far.”

Tomas snorted again, not wanting to hear the negative posturing. By his thinking, if Elbryan and Pony, their little unseen friend Juraviel and Roger Lockless, could exact such a toll, then he and his warriors could finish the task.

Elbryan and Pony looked to each other again, and silently agreed to let it go at that. They understood Tomas’s feelings, recognized that he had to believe that his home was not lost to him, and they both trusted that the man was sensible enough to listen to their argument if skirting the town and running to the south seemed the more prudent move.

Belster O’Comely, fearing mounting tension, led the discussion in another direction then, pondering the fate of the monstrous army across all the lands. “If we’ve been hitting at them so hard here, then it seems to me that others are taking them down, as well,” he said. “Ho, but I’ll be back in the Howling Sheila in Dundalis in the next spring, I’m betting!” he finished, then filled and drained his mug once again.

“It is possible,” the ranger said earnestly, his optimism surprising Pony. “If the monstrous army disintegrates, the King will wish the Timberlands quickly reclaimed.”

“And Sheila will howl again!” Belster roared, for in his drink-induced state, he had forgotten all pledges to live out his life quietly in the safety of Palmaris. His excitement brought others over to the campfire, most bearing foodstuffs and beverages.

The conversation took a lighthearted turn then, became the retelling of anecdotes from happier times, before the monstrous invasion, and what had started as a serious wait for important information became a sort of victory celebration. Elbryan and Pony said little, preferring to sit back and listen to the chatter of the others, often looking to each other and nodding. They had already arranged a meeting with Juraviel at the break of dawn in the meadow by the pines, and after they heard what the elf had to say, after they came to understand the truth of their enemy’s strength in the two towns, they could make their decisions.

The night deepened, the fires burned low, and most of the folk retired to their bedrolls. Finally, only an hour before the dawn, the scouts returned, led by an exuberant Roger Lockless. “All the giants are gone,” the young man proclaimed. “Every one! Driven off by the powries—and they hardly even put up a fight!”

“They did not want to be here in the first place,” Pony reasoned. “They prefer their holes in the steep mountains of the Wilderlands.”

Tomas Gingerwart gave a shout of victory.

“And what of the goblins?” Elbryan asked calmly, interrupting the celebration before it could begin. He didn’t want Roger’s excitement to steal the moment and lead Tomas and all the refugees down a course to absolute destruction. Even without giants, the remaining powries might prove too formidable.

“There was a fight and some were killed,” Roger replied, not missing a beat. “Others went scattering into the forest.”

“And still others remained with the powries,” Elbryan reasoned.

” Yes, but—”

“And few, very few, powries were killed?” the ranger pressed.

“The goblins who remained will flee at first sign of battle,” Roger said confidently. “They only stay because they’re afraid of the bloody caps.”

“Armies have won great victories inspired purely by fear,” Pony said dryly.

Roger glared at her. “They are ready to be taken,” he said evenly.

“We are a long way from making such a claim,” the ranger was quick to reply, pointedly cutting off Tomas Gingerwart with an upraised hand as he spoke. Elbryan rose to stand before Roger. “Our responsibilities are too great to make such a quick judgment.”

“As you made when you went into Caer Tinella alone?” the young man spat back.

“I did what I thought necessary,” Elbryan replied quietly, calmly. He could feel the gazes of many people settling on him and Roger, and any conflict between them would obviously prove a source of great discomfort. These people had come to trust and love Roger Lockless, and he had truly done much for them in the weeks of their exile. But if he was wrong now, if he was letting his desire to lead the folk to victory overrule good sense, then all of his previous exploits would be for naught, for all of the refugees would likely soon be dead.

“As did I in rescuing the thirty captured soldiers!” Roger said forcefully, and loudly.

“All by yourself?” Pony had to put in.

Elbryan put up his hand, quieting Pony, quieting all about him. “It is too early to make the judgment of whether to attack the towns or circumvent them,” he announced. “We will know more, much more, with the light of day.” The ranger, thinking and hoping that the discussion was finished then, turned and started away.

“We take back Caer Tinella,” Roger Lockless declared, and there were more than a few agreeing calls. “And Landsdown,” the young man went on. “And when we have the towns in our possession once more, we send word to Palmaris, that the King’s army might reinforce our position.”

“The Kingsmen will not come this far north,” Pony argued. “Or at least, that is not something upon which we should stake our entire existence. Not yet. Not while Palmaris is under threat of invasion.”

“How can you know?” Roger asked sternly.

“I served in the King’s army,” Pony admitted. “In the Kingsmen and in the Coastpoint Guards. I understand their priorities, and I can assure you that measured against the value of Palmaris, second city of Honce-the-Bear and the gateway of the Masur Delaval, Caer Tinella and Landsdown are not among those priorities. If Palmaris falls, then the way is open all the way to the King’s seat in Ursal.”

That took a bit of Roger’s bluster away. He fidgeted for a few moments, thinking up a retort, but before he could deliver it, Tomas Gingerwart cut in. “We are all weary,” the man said loudly, commanding the attention of all nearby. “It is said that good news can be as tiring as bad, and either as tiring as a week of hard work.”

“Oh, true enough,” Belster O’Comely agreed.

“So our spirits are heightened, our thoughts hopeful,” Tomas went on. “But the ranger and Jilseponie are correct. This is not the time to decide.”

“Our enemies are disorganized and reeling,” Roger argued.

“As they will remain, for another day at least,” Tomas answered bluntly. “We’ll not attack the towns in the light of day anyway, so let us get our rest now, and hopefully we will see things more clearly in the morning.”

Elbryan locked gazes with Tomas and nodded, sincerely grateful that the man had taken such levelheaded control. Then he motioned to Pony and the pair walked off, heading for the pines and the meadow, and a clearer picture of what remained of their adversaries.