DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (238 page)

And again he could not.

He was not much of a horseman, but, riding Symphony, he did not have to be. Roger turned south as soon as he understood the truth of the disaster at the plateau: the power of Avelyn had not come forth and his friends had all been taken prisoner.

Roger had no idea what he should do.

He thought of trying to sneak into the camp and free Elbryan or Pony. He had executed such maneuvers against the powries in Caer Tinella, after all, had stolen prisoners and food right out from under their sentries. But Roger dismissed the notion. These were not powries. This was the King of Honce-the-Bear and his most elite and powerful fighting unit. Worse, this was Father Abbot Markwart and Bishop De'Unnero and a host of gemstone-armed Abellican monks. Roger might get into the encampment, but he knew without doubt that he would never, ever get away. And even if he did manage to free Elbryan, or Pony, or even both somehow, and get them to their weapons and gemstones, it would do little good. They had been armed, after all, when they had first encountered this force, and it seemed to Roger as if none of the King's or Father Abbot's minions had even been injured!

So he rode, hard and fast, the great stallion easily outpacing the troop. He came into Dundalis and learned, to his continued distress, that Tomas, too, had been taken.

Still he rode, past Caer Tinella and Landsdown, down the road toward Palmaris —though what he might accomplish there, he did not know. Lost and alone, the man spent one night in a pine grove, and only then did he learn that not all his friends were caught or dead. Belli'mar Juraviel found him there, or rather, found Symphony, and came in expecting that Nightbird had somehow eluded the Father Abbot and was even then plotting his counterstrikes.

With a heart that grew heavy as soon as the initial joy and relief at seeing Juraviel faded, Roger recounted the events at the Barbacan. The elf listened with mounting, profound sadness, for it seemed to him as if all was lost.

"What are we to do?" Roger asked when he had finished, Juraviel making no comment, other than to close his golden eyes.

The elf looked at him and shook his head. "Bear witness," he replied, echoing Lady Dasslerond's instructions.

"Witness?" Roger said incredulously. "Witness to what? A mass execution?"

"Perhaps," Juraviel admitted. "Have they come through Caer Tinella?"

"I know not," Roger admitted. "They came through Dundalis only a day behind me, for I spotted them moving along a lower trail. Yet that was nearly a week ago. Their course was south, to Palmaris, I expect. But they cannot pace Symphony, so I know not how far behind they might be."

"Are Nightbird and Pony still alive?" Juraviel asked. Roger winced, for he, too, had pondered that question often over the last few days.

"It is likely that the King will want them brought to Palmaris for trial," the elf went on.

"So there, we must go," Roger reasoned.

"Outside the gates," Juraviel replied. "I wish to witness their entrance to the city, that we might determine if our friends are still with them, and still alive, and, if we are quick and clever, where they mean to imprison them."

In response, Roger Lockless looked forlornly to the north. The nightmare was in full swing, and the man felt helpless to try and change its course.

Spring was in bloom by the time the grand procession, prisoners in tow, marched through the northern gate of Palmaris. The only concession Danube had won from Markwart on the entire journey south was to allow the prisoners to ride upright, with some measure of dignity until the trial could commence and they were formally condemned.

The upright posture brought little comfort to Elbryan, though. Markwart was careful to keep the dangerous ranger and his equally dangerous wife far apart, both during the day's marches and within the encampment during the nights, affording them no opportunity to speak. They did make eye contact occasionally, and the ranger used the meager opportunity to stare lovingly at Pony, to mouth the words "I love you," to smile —anything at all to make her understand that he was not angry with her, not only that he had forgiven her, but that he understood that there was nothing to forgive.

One thing did perplex him, though, and brought him more than a little worry: Pony was obviously not with child. A multitude of questions assaulted the ranger, all the more frustrating because he knew that he would not soon get the answers. Had the child been born? Had she lost the baby? And if it was alive, then with whom? And if not, then who had killed it?

He could not know, and no one would speak with him. He had been placed in the care of the Allheart line, moved far away from Pony, and Markwart and Danube had been very specific to the soldiers guarding him. They were not to speak with him, not to acknowledge him at all unless an emergency arose. To the ranger's dismay, no emergencies at all confronted them all the way to Palmaris.

He took some comfort, at least, in the fact that Markwart won the argument that ensued once they were inside the city. He, Pony, the five monks, and Bradwarden were to be jailed at St. Precious. Colleen and Shamus Kilronney and the other treasonous Kingsmen, along with Tomas and the folk of Dundalis, fell under the care of Duke Kalas at the house of Aloysius Crump.

During the descent to the dungeons of the abbey, he saw Pony briefly, passing her more closely than at any time.

"I love you," he said quickly, before the nearest monk could force him to be quiet. "We will be together."

And then two monks leaped onto him, forcing him to the floor; one wrapped a gag around his mouth and pulled it tight.

He did hear Pony say, "I love you," and heard, too, her charge that Markwart had murdered their child.

And then he was dragged to his cell and thrown inside, the heavy door slammed in his face.

After a while, the ranger collected himself enough to crawl through the filth to his door and call out for Pony.

To his surprise, a voice answered.

"Pony?" he asked desperately.

"Brother Braumin," came the distant response. "Pony is far down the corridor, the furthest cell from your own. Except for Bradwarden; he is in another corridor, for none of these cells would hold him."

Elbryan sighed and rested his face against the door, thoroughly defeated.

"My brothers and I are all in line between you, my friend," came Braumin's voice. "We will relay your words to her, and hers to you, if you do not mind us hearing them."

Elbryan chuckled at the absurdity of it all, but he did take Braumin up on the offer. He told Pony of all his adventures since she had left him in Caer Tinella, and heard through Braumin Pony's response, most pointedly the tale of the disaster on the field outside Palmaris, when she had lost her —their—baby.

"They will try the monks first," Constance Pemblebury reported to her King the next morning. All Palmaris was alive with gossip; no two people in the city passed by on the street without an exchange of news.

"Those four remaining will be handled quietly and efficiently," King Danube reasoned. "Markwart will surely condemn them, though he will not likely execute them until he secures the sentence of death upon Nightbird and the woman."

"It is all a disgusting and evil affair," Constance dared to say.

King Danube didn't disagree.

"Is there nothing we can do?" she asked.

The King only chuckled helplessly. "We are to hold our own trials," he explained. "And our sentencing will probably be no less harsh than the Father Abbot's. Both the woman Kilronney, soldier of the former Baron, and Shamus of the Kingsmen are surely doomed, rightfully so by their own actions."

"Yet they acted out of conscience, against what they perceived as injustice," Constance remarked.

Again came the chuckle. "Whenever were they granted such permission?" he asked.

"Are we to try them first?" Constance continued. "At the same time as the monks, perhaps, or immediately following?"

King Danube sat back in his chair and spent a long time pondering that question. "Last," he decided, though he was not sure that he would stick with the decision. "Perhaps by that time, the peasants' taste for blood will be sated and some of Shamus Kilronney's soldiers, at least, might be spared."

Constance turned away. She wanted to yell at him, remind him that he was the King, that he could dismiss the charges against all of them, even Nightbird and Pony. Or could he? she suddenly wondered. What would be the price of such an action, in addition to the obvious enmity of the Abellican Church?

"The monk who leaped from Aida," King Danube remarked, shaking his head, "he fell right before me, you know. I saw his face, all the way down, right before he struck the stone."

"I am, sorry, my King," she replied.

"Sorry?" Danube scoffed. "The man was not afraid. He was smiling. Smiling, though he knew that he was but an instant from death. I will never understand these Abellican monks, Constance, so fanatical that they do not even fear death."

"But you must understand them," Constance replied grimly, and that thought settled heavily on both their shoulders. There was little doubt that Markwart now held the upper hand. Markwart, risen from the grave. Markwart, the valiant Father Abbot, so old and yet strong enough to travel all the way to the Barbacan to capture the most dangerous criminals in all the world. Markwart! They were all talking about Markwart, the hero of the common folk. Though Danube had a stronger force within Palmaris, his position seemed weak when compared to that of the Father Abbot.

Duke Kalas entered the room then, obviously outraged.

"The centaur is no criminal," he declared immediately.

"You have interviewed the creature?" Danube asked, eyes wide.

"Bradwarden is his name," Kalas explained. "But, no, the monks would not let me speak with any of the prisoners held in St. Precious."

King Danube banged his fist on the arm of his chair. He had sent Kalas to the abbey to demand an interview with any whose words would be relevant to the trial of Shamus and the other soldiers. He had given the man a personal writ, with the seal of the Crown, demanding an interview.

And Markwart had denied him.

"I did find Abbot Je'howith, making his way from St. Precious to Chasewind Manor," Kalas explained.

"Je'howith," King Danube echoed in a wicked tone, for the King was not pleased with the old abbot.

"He deigned not to speak with me!" the Duke cried. "He would have denied me altogether."

The King looked at him curiously.

"Except that I informed him that he would give me his tongue willingly or I would cut it from his mouth," the volatile Kalas explained. "I had ten Allheart soldiers with me, while Je'howith was accompanied by merely a pair of monks."

"You threatened the abbot of St. Honce?" Constance asked incredulously, though she too, frustrated, didn't seem too upset by the action.

"I would have killed him," Duke Kalas declared flatly, "right there, on the open street, and let Father Abbot Markwart declare me an outlaw and try to bring me to his overused gallows!"

"But you did not," the King prompted.

"He spoke with me," Kalas replied, "as did the other monks. One of them had gone on the first journey to Mount Aida, the one during which Markwart first captured the centaur Bradwarden, and brought him back in chains through Palmaris, taking him all the way to the dungeons of St.-Mere-Abelle."

"And Nightbird and Pony rescued him," Constance reasoned.

Kalas nodded. "Thus sealing their own fates as criminals," he explained. "But that premise is only valid if one considers the centaur a criminal, and from what I have learned, that is far from proven. Bradwarden went to Mount Aida with Nightbird and Pony and several others, including the monk Avelyn Desbris, whom the College of Abbots formally declared heretic last Calember."

"Thus they are criminals by association with the heretic," Danube reasoned.

"They went, so the centaur claims, to destroy the demon dactyl, who raised that army against Honce-the-Bear," Kalas explained. "And, indeed, even the Church admits that the demon dactyl was there destroyed!"

"They saved the country, but are criminals in the eyes of the Church," Constance remarked, shaking her head.

"What are we to do?" Duke Kalas demanded.

King Danube looked away, fixing his gaze on a distant point and then letting that point melt into nothingness as he pondered the situation. He understood Kalas' call for action, for a large part of him wanted to openly declare the Church wrong and demand the release of all prisoners. But Danube understood the truth of the situation, a dire truth that was reinforced by what the lady of Andur'Blough Inninness had secretly told him, and doubly reinforced by his memories of Markwart's powerful specter. He could fight them now, with words if not with soldiers, but if he pushed too hard, Markwart would fight back, viciously.