The Demon Apostle (DemonWars Series #3)

"They was all ripped," the man said. "Their guts was spillin' out. One of 'em had his heart laying open on his chest! I'm not for knowing how many bites the cat took of each."

"And ye're thinkin' this to be needed?" the woman protested to Captain Kilronney.

Kilronney turned a plaintive look upon Elbryan, but the ranger had his hand up, signaling that he would not press the issue further. He didn't need to. No hungry cat would leave as tempting a morsel as a heart uneaten, and no cat would spend the energy killing fleeing people when there was a fresh kill to be eaten. If the man's description of the scene was accurate, then the Baron had not been killed by any natural beast.

And of course that led Elbryan to even more disturbing thoughts. He had seen the gemstones at work many times, had spoken with Avelyn about them at length, and knew of one that could transform a man's arm into an animal's paw.

"The men about the Baron," the ranger began calmly, "did you know them all?"

"One was a friend," the witness replied. "And I seen the others with him before. The Baron's closest guard, they were!"

The ranger nodded. "I have heard that another--not a soldier--was traveling with Baron Bildeborough."

"The little fellow," the woman remarked. "Yeah, we heared o' him."

"And was his body at the camp?"

"Didn't see 'im," the witness replied.

That gave Elbryan a bit of relief but didn't confirm anything. The cat, if it was a cat, might have dragged Roger away to eat. Even more plausibly, the monk, if it was a monk, might have taken Roger prisoner, seeking information about Elbryan and Pony.

"What is your course?" he asked the Palmaris leader.

"We come ridin' to tell Captain Kilronney o' the Baron, as runners have been sent in every direction," she replied.

"The death of the Baron holds tremendous implications for Palmaris," Shamus Kilronney remarked, "especially following so closely on the murder of Abbot Dobrinion."

"The city's been in brew all the season," the woman added. "The new abbot's just returned from another trip to St.-Mere-Abelle--some College of Abbots, whatever that might be meanin'--and now he's taken his place, and a bit more than that, but he's not without his rivals."

The ranger nodded, hearing the words as confirmation of his worst fears. He had once met the new abbot of St. Precious--only briefly but long enough to recognize that De'Unnero was an unpleasant man, full of fire and pride. Bildeborough's death left a gaping hole in the power structure--his only heir, Connor, was dead, as was Abbot Dobrinion--that Abbot De'Unnero would hasten to fill. And the fact that De'Unnero had gone back to St.-Mere-Abelle for this college made the ranger fear the abbot might have had a prisoner, Roger Lockless, in tow.

It seemed to Elbryan then that the Abellican Church was a great black monster, rising to block out the sun. He considered his journey to Aida to battle the dactyl and his trip to St.-Mere-Abelle to steal his friends from the clutches of the Father Abbot, and he understood that those two missions had not been so very different--not at all.

"And what course for you?" Elbryan asked Kilronney.

The man blew a helpless sigh. "I should return to Palmaris," he said, "to see if I can help secure the city."

"You are needed here," the ranger reminded. "Winter may strike hard at these folk and bring in monsters that they cannot overcome without your help. And then there is the matter of the caravan north, before the start of spring."

"Ye're not for comparin' the reopenin' o' the Timberlands to the security of Palmaris?" the woman protested incredulously, moving closer to the captain and locking him with an intense gaze--one that reflected familiarity, Elbryan noted, thinking again that there might be a family relation here.

The ranger looked at Kilronney, but the captain only shrugged, defeated by the simple logic of the woman's statement.

"What of the powrie band in the west?" the ranger asked, for he and Kilronney had previously discussed their plans concerning one troublesome band of bloody cap dwarves who had not left the region, looming as a threat to any who might venture outside the secure area of Caer Tinella and Landsdown.

"We will deal with them at once," Shamus Kilronney offered.

The woman soldier began to protest.

"And then, if the weather holds and leaves the road clear, my men and I will turn to the south," Shamus said in a tone that left no room for debate.

The woman growled and turned away to stare intently at the ranger.

"I give you Nightbird," Captain Kilronney said, finally introducing him.

The ranger lifted his chin slightly but did not bow.

"Nightbird?" the woman asked, her expression sour. "A strange name."

"And this is Sergeant Colleen Kilronney of the Palmaris guard," Shamus explained.

"Your sister?" the ranger asked.

"Cousin," replied Shamus, somewhat distastefully.

"From the better part o' the family," Colleen was quick to put in, and Elbryan couldn't tell if her tone was serious or not. "Oh, me cousin's learned to speak so proper and pretty for courtin' ladies in Ursal. He's even been to the King's dinner table."

Shamus glowered at her, but she just gave a derisive laugh and turned to the ranger.

"Well, Master Nightbird--" she began.

"Just Nightbird," the ranger explained.

"Well, Master Nightbird," Colleen went on without missing a beat, "seems ye've got yer fight with the bloody caps. Me and me soldiers'll go along for the fun. We're all a bit troubled by the happenin's in Palmaris, and it might be good for us to take out our worrys on the powries."

The other two Palmaris soldiers, grim-faced, nodded.

Shamus Kilronney said, "We have not much time. The battlefield must be chosen and prepared."

"Ye make yer own battlefield when ye draw yer sword," stubborn Colleen put in.

Elbryan eyed the captain and then his cousin. There was an intense rivalry here, obviously, and the ranger understood that such feelings could lead to disaster in a fight. "I will learn where the powries have gone and choose the appropriate ground for our attack," he said, and he walked from the tent.

"Ye're a bit trustin'," he heard Colleen complain.

"None can prepare a battlefield better than Nightbird," Shamus was saying as Elbryan, shaking his head and smiling, mounted Symphony and started away. His amusement over Colleen Kilronney was short-lived, though, lasting only as long as it took him to consider again the grim news the woman had delivered.

He found Pony nearing the encampment even as he was leaving it, and he trotted Symphony over to her.

She eyed him suspiciously, and she knew even before he began to speak that something was wrong.

"Baron Bildeborough was murdered on the road, before he ever got near Ursal," Elbryan said, sliding down to stand beside his wife, "along with all his guard--though no sign of Roger was discovered among the dead."

"Powries again?" came Juraviel's voice from the trees, dripping with sarcasm. "Same clan that killed Abbot Dobrinion, no doubt."

"That thought may hold more truth than you believe," the ranger replied. "Those who found the Baron say he was killed by a great cat, but while the wounds might prove consistent with such a creature, I doubt the motive will."

"Tiger's paw," Pony spat, referring to the gemstone the monks could use to transform their limbs into those of a great cat. She closed her eyes and put her head down, sighing deeply, and Elbryan draped his arm around her shoulders, sensing that she needed the support. Every new encounter or word about the Abellican Church weighed heavily on Pony; every action these monks engaged in that was so unholy, so against the principles that had guided dear Avelyn, only reinforced her grief for her lost parents.

"Palmaris is in turmoil," Elbryan said, speaking more to Juraviel. "Our time with Captain Kilronney and his soldiers grows short. We should dispatch that powrie band before we depart."

"And what of Roger?" Pony was quick to ask. "Are we to continue our duties here, even go further away, while he might be in terrible peril?"

Elbryan held his hands out helplessly. "There was no sign of Roger, among the dead or anywhere on the road," he explained.

"He may have been taken," Juraviel offered.

"If he has been sent to St.-Mere-Abelle, I will go back," Pony declared, her tone so cold that it sent a shiver through Elbryan. He suspected that she meant to go in through the front doors this time, and leave little standing in her wake.

"And if he has been taken, then of course we will go for him," Elbryan assured her. "But we do not know that, and in the absence of evidence, we must hold our trust in Roger and continue our planned course."

"But if we continue to the north, or go against the powries, how will we discern Roger's fate?" Pony protested.

It was a dilemma, but the ranger remained unconvinced that they should drop everything and go in search of Roger Lockless. The man was a survivor. When Elbryan and Juraviel had gone into Powrie-occupied Caer Tinella to rescue him, they had found him already free. "I have no answers," the ranger admitted. "I know that I must trust Roger. If he was killed on the road, then there is nothing I can do about it."

"You would not avenge a friend?" Pony's words cut deep.

Elbryan stared at her as if she were a stranger, some different person than the one he had come to love so dearly.

Pony couldn't match that stare. She lowered her head and sighed again. "Of course you would," she admitted. "I am afraid for Roger, that is all."

"We can send word to Belster O'Comely in Palmaris," Juraviel offered. "The city is too large for us to go wandering about in an attempt to locate Roger. But Belster, so centered in the town, might be able to glean some information."

"All gossip flows through Fellowship Way," Pony added hopefully.

"I will go to Tomas Gingerwart," Elbryan offered, "and secure a trusted courier."

"None would prove more trustworthy than I," Pony said as the ranger took a step away.

Elbryan stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes; it took a long while for him to secure control of his anger. Then he turned to her slowly, astonished that she would take such a step.

"I must go and meet with Bradwarden," Juraviel remarked. "We will scout out the powries and report this evening." And the elf was gone, leaving the two, who had hardly heard his words, to their conversation.

Copyright © 1999 by R. A. Salvatore