R. A. Salvatore - Second Demon Wars - 02 - Transcendence

A Del Key® Book Published by The Eallantine Publishing Group

Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing Group,

a division of Random House, Inc. New York, and simultaneously in Canada by

Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

www. delreydigital. com

Endpaper maps by Laura Maestro

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 0-345-4)041-7

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition: May 2002

10987654321

CONTENT

Prelude

PART ONE

TO THE EDGE OF DARKNESS

1. First Blood 9

2. The Blood of Centuries 22

3. Walking with Purpose 32

4. Details, Details 38

5. Conflicting Responsibilities 49

6. The Iron Hand of Yatol 57

7. Tymwyvenne 65

8. Trial of Faith 96

9. Dark Solitude 106

PART TWO

GRASSES IN THE WIND

10. Kin and Kind 129

11. The Sash of All Colors 143

12. Pragmatism and Patience 150

13. Never the Horse 155

14. As Graciously as Possible 165

15. Expanding His Horizons 173

16. Her New Family igQ

17. The Grim Reality 288

18. Baiting the Hook 202

PART THREE

ENLIGHTENMENT

19. The Play’s the Thing 223

20. Parallel Journeys 236

21. The Relief of Resignation 245

22. A Chill Breeze on Leathery Wings 253

23. What Agradeleous Wants… 260

24. Ancient Enemies 274

PART FOUR

THE DRAGON OF TO-QAI

25. The Walkaway 297

26. Playing to Their Weakness 306

27. Ghost Town 319

28. With All the Weapons at Her Disposal 334

29. Exacting a Promise 346

30. One Angry Cat, One Clever Mouse 358

31. Her Winter of Discontent 371

32. Hit and Run? 378

33. The Dragon Ruse 385

34. Sacrilege Revealed 392

35. Head-On 401

36. Defensive Position 410

37. To the Bitter End 417

Epilogue 434

PRELUDE

rynn Dharielle looked back over her shoulder repeatedly as she slowly paced her pinto mount, Diredusk,

along the descending moun-tain trail. Though she had only been on the road for a half hour be-yond the edge

of Andur’Blough Inninness, the enchanted elven valley, the ridges that marked the place were already lost

from sight. The mountainous landscape was a natural maze that had been enhanced by the magic of Lady

Dasslerond of the Touel’alfar to be unsolvable. Brynn had marked the trail well along her route, but she

understood that she would have a hard time finding her way back - even if she were to turn about right then.

This was the first time Brynn had been out of that misty valley in a decade, and she truly felt as if she was

leaving her home. The Touel’alfar, the diminutive, translucent-winged elves of Corona, had come to her when

she was a child of ten, orphaned and alone on the rugged and unforgiving steppes of To-gai, far to the south.

They had taken her in and given her food and shelter. And even more importantly to Brynn, they had given her

life purpose. They had trained her and made her a ranger.

And now they were sending her home to find her destiny.

The young brown-skinned woman crinkled her face at that thought, as she continued to stare back along the

trail behind her, to the place that she knew to be her real home, the place she would likely never see again.

Tears misted in her almond-shaped brown eyes, the sparkling eyes of a child, still, though so much had they

seen. Already she missed Aydrian, the fourteen-year-old who had shared some of her training. Many times,

Brynn had found the boy to be exasperating, often infuriating. But the truth was, he was the only other human

she had seen in these last ten years, and she loved him like a brother.

A brother she would likely never see again.

Brynn shook her head forcefully, her raven hair flying wildly, and point-edly turned back to the trail heading

south. Certainly leaving the valley was a sacrifice for Brynn, a dismissal of the trappings and the

companionship that had made the place her home. But there was a reason for her depar-ture, she reminded

herself, and if the pain of this loss was the greatest sacri-fice she would be expected to make, then her road

would be easier by far than anyone, herself included, had ever imagined possible.

Her future was not her own to decide. No, that road had been laid out be-fore her a decade before, when the

Behrenese Yatol priests and their armies had tightened their grip on To-gai, had abolished almost completely

the last remnants of a culture that had existed for thousands of years. Brynn’s road had been set from the

moment Tohen Bardoh, an orange-robed Yatol priest, had lifted his heavy falchion and lopped off her father’s

head; from the mo-ment Tohen and his lackeys had dragged off her mother, eventually killing her, as well.

Brynn’s jaw tightened. She hoped that Tohen Bardoh was still alive. That confrontation alone would be worth

any sacrifice.

Of course, Brynn understood keenly that this journey, this duty, was about much more than personal gain.

She had been trained for a specific reason, a destiny that was bigger than herself. She was to return to the

cold ‘~ and wjndy steppe? of harsh To-gai, the land she loved so much, and find those flickersj>fXvhat had

once been. She, little Brynn Dharielle, just over five feet tall and barely weighing a hundred pounds, was to

fan that flicker into a flame, then feed the flame with the passion that had burned within her since that fateful

day a decade ago. She was to find the To-gai spirit, to remind her fierce and proud people of who they truly

were, to unite the many divided tribes in the cause against a deserving enemy: the YatoMed Behrenese, the

Chezru.

If the plan went as Brynn and the elves hoped, then Brynn would be the harbinger of war and all the land

south of the great Belt-and-Buckle Moun-tains would be profoundly changed.

That was the hope of Lady Dasslerond, who rarely involved herself in the affairs of humans, and that was the

burning hope of Brynn Dharielle. Lib-eration, freedom, for the To-gai-ru would avenge her parents, would allow

them to sleep more comfortably in their graves.

„We will move down to the east, along that open stone to the tree line,“ came a melodic voice from the side

and above. Brynn looked up to the top of a boulder lining the rocky trail to see a figure far more diminutive

than she. Belli’mar Juraviel of the Touel’alfar, her mentor and companion, looked back at her with his golden

eyes. His hair, too, was the color of sun-light, and his features, though angular, with the high cheekbones

and pointy ears characteristic of all of the Touel’alfar, somehow exuded gentleness.

Brynn glanced back once again toward the land that had been her home.

„Keep your eyes ahead,“ Juraviel remarked. „Andur’Blough Inninness is no more to you than a dream now.“

„A pleasant dream,“ Brynn replied, and Juraviel grinned.

„They say that memories often leave out the more terrible scenes.“

Brynn looked at him hard for a moment, but when he started laughing, she understood his meaning well.

Indeed, there had been many hard times for Brynn in Andur’Blough Inninness, under the tutelage of the

often-stern elves, including Belli’mar Juraviel - though he was considered by his kin to be among the most

kindhearted of the people. Particularly Brynn’s early years in the valley had been filled with seemingly

impossible trials. The elves had pushed her to the very limits of her physical and emotional being, and often

beyond those limits - not to break her, but to make her stronger.

And they had succeeded. Indeed they had! Brynn could fight with sword and bow, could ride as well as any of

the people of To-gai, who were put on the back of the sturdy ponies before they could even walk. And more

im-portantly, the Touel’alfar had given her the mental toughness she would need to hold true to her course

and see it through. Yes, she wanted revenge on Tohen Bardoh - indeed she did! - but she understood that

such per-sonal desires could not supersede the greater reason for this journey. She would hold fast to the

course and the cause.

Juraviel left that part of the discussion right there, and so did Brynn, fol-lowing the elf’s gaze to the sloping

stone facing he had indicated. Brynn frowned, not thrilled with the angle.

„Diredusk will have trouble navigating that,“ she stated. She looked back to her pinto pony, who stood calmly

munching grass and seemed not to mind the saddlebags he carried, full of foodstuffs and bedrolls for the pair.

Juraviel nodded. „We will get him through. And once we cross under the canopy of the trees, the ground will

be softer under his hooves and the trail will slope more gently.“

Brynn looked down to those trees, rows of evergreens neatly defined by elevation, and frowned again. The

ground down there didn’t look very level to her.

„We will be out of the mountains soon enough,“ Juraviel said, seeing her thoughts clearly reflected on her

pretty face.

„Sooner if we had gone straight to the east, then turned south,“ the iras-cible Brynn had to say, for she and

Juraviel had spent the better part of the previous week arguing about this very topic. Considering what Brynn

had been told about this mountain range, which ran more north-south than east-west, they certainly could

have gotten to flatter ground more quickly by heading to the east.

„Yes, and then poor Diredusk would be running swiftly until he dropped from exhaustion, or until the goblin

hordes caught up to us. Or until he mired down in the mud,“ Juraviel said, again with a chuckle. That had

been his argument from the beginning, for the lands immediately east of the mountains were far from

hospitable, with goblins and swamps and great areas of muddy clay.

„A Touel’alfar and a ranger, afraid of goblins,“ came Brynn’s huffing reply.

„A Touel’alfar wise enough to know that danger is best defeated by avoid-ing it altogether,“ Juraviel corrected.

„And a ranger too proud and too stub-born to recognize that her body, though hardened by our training, is not

impervious to a goblin spear! You have heard of Mather, uncle of Elbryan, great-uncle of Aydrian. ‘Twere

goblins that struck him down.“

Juraviel started to turn away, and so Brynn took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at him. He looked

back immediately, catching her in the act, and just sighed and shook his head, hardly surprised. For surely

Belli’mar Juraviel was used to such playful behavior from this one, named by many of the Touel’alfar as the

most irreverent - and irresistible - of any of the hu-mans they had ever taken in for training. Brynn saw the

world differently from most humans, and had done so even before falling under the demand-ing influences of

the Touel’alfar. Despite the darkness that had found her at a young age, she-^^mained the one with the

brightest and most sincere smile, the one willing to solve any problem thrown her way through cun-ning~andL

wit as mucra as through disciplined training.

That wasliie^^harm of Brynn Dharielle, and also, to Juraviel’s thinking, it was the strength that would carry her

through this, her ultimate trial, where sadness and guilt loomed large in places unexpected.

If anything could.

PART ONE

TO THE EDGE OF

DARKNESS

/ cannot begin to explain the tremendous shift that has come to Caer’alfar since the demon

Bestesbulzibar left its stain, its growing rot, upon our fair valley. For centuries, we of the People

have lived in relative seclusion, peaceful and content. Only the rangers knew of us, truly, and a

select few of Honce-the-Bear’s ruling families. Our concern with the ways of the wider world ended

with the potential impact any happenings might have upon us. Thus the rangers, while protectors

of the human settlements on the outskirts of human civilization, were also our link to that world,

our eyes in the field.

That was enough.

Bestesbulzibar has apparently changed all of that. Curing the time of the DemonWar, I was.

assaulted by that demon, while transporting some poor human refugees away from the goblin

andpowrie hordes. I would have perished in that battle - perhaps I should have! - except that Lady

GaSStefoncTamved and took up my battle. She, too, would have perished, but she used her

magical emerald to take us back to the place of her greatest power, back to Andur’Blough

Inninness, just outside of Caer’alfar. There, Dasslerond drove the demon away, but not before

Bestesbulzibar had left its indelible stain upon our fair land, a mark enduring, and growing.

I believe that if Dasslerond had understood the cost, she never would have brought us all back to

the valley, that she and I would have died on the field that day.

For then we would be gone, but Andur’Blough Inninness would live on.

That rotting stain has done more than change the complexion of our fair valley, it has changed the

perspective of Lady Dasslerond. The Touel’alfar have existed by remaining on the outskirts,

passive observers in a world too frenzied for our tastes. We do not involve ourselves in the affairs

of humans - how many times have I been chided by Lady Dasslerond and my peers for my

friendship with Elbryan andjilseponie?

Now, though, Lady Dasslerond has assumed a more active role outside of Andur’Blough

Inninness. She sends Brynn south to free To-gai from the Behrenese, mostly because the

nomads of To-gai will prove much more accommodating and friendly toward our people should

the demon stain force us out of our home. In that event, we would go south, through the

Belt-and-Buckle and across To-gai, to another of our ancient homelands, Caer’Towellan, where

perhaps our brethren still reside.

Still, despite the potential gains should that event occur, I am

surprised that Dasslerond has sent Brynn Dharielle to begin a war, human against human. If we

were forced to journey southward, we could do so, I am certain, whether the To-gai-ru or the Yatol

Chezru Chieftain ruled the steppes. But Lady Dasslerond insisted upon this, as much so as on

anything I have ever witnessed. She is truly fearful of the demon stain.

And so she undertakes her second unusual stance, and this one frightens me even more than

the journey she has determined for Brynn. She took }ilseponie’s child, unbeknownst to the

mother. She took the child ofElbryan and Jilseponie, right from its mother’s womb! True, her

action saved the lives of both Jilseponie andAydrian that dark night on the field outside

ofPalmaris, for had not Dasslerond intervened to drive away the demon-possessed Markwart,

both humans would surely have perished.

Still, to raise the child as her, as our, own…

And the manner of that upbringing scares me even more - perhaps as much as the reason for

the upbringing. Lady Dasslerond has plans for Brynn, but they pale compared to her goals for

young Aydrian. He will be the one to deliver Andur’Blough Inninness from the demon stain, at the

sacrifice of his own blood and his own life. He will become the epitome of what it is to be a ranger,

and then, when that is achieved, he will become Dasslerond’s sacrifice to the earth, that the

demon stain be lifted.

She has foreseen this, my Lady has told me, in no uncertain terms. She knows the potential of

her plan. All that she must do is bring Aydrian to the required level of power and understanding.

But there’s the rub, I fear. For Aydrian Wyndon, raised without the gentle touch of his mother or

the love of his father, raised in near seclusion with harsh treatment and high standards from the

moment he was old enough to understand them, will not he complete as a man, let alone as a

ranger. There was a side to Elbryan, the Nightbird, beyond his abilities with the sword and his

understanding of nature. The greatest gift ofNightbird, the greatest strength of the man Elbryan,

was compassion, was a willingness to sacrifice every thing for the greater good. Nightbird’s gift to

the world was his death, when he threw his wounded form fully into Jilseponie’s final battle with the

demon-possessed Markwart, knowing full well that he could not survive that conflict, that, in aiding

Jilseponie, he would be giving his very life.

He did that. He didn’t hesitate, because Nightbird was possessed of so much more than we of the

Touel’alfar ever gave to him - because Elbryan the Nigh third was a man of true character and true

community.

Will the child raised alone and unloved he as much?

This is my fear.

- belli’mar juraviel

chapter

* 1 *

First Blood

T

hey were out of the mountains now, and the going was smooth and easy. Diredusk most of all seemed to

revel in the softer and flatter ground, the powerful pinto pony striding long and eagerly under Brynn’s expert

handling. True to his noble To-gai heritage, the pony could trot for many miles before needing a break, and

even then, he was quickly ready to be back on the trail, straining against Brynn’s hold to travel faster and

faster.

For Brynn, riding along quiet forest trails on a late-spring or early-summer day was about as wonderful as

things could get, and would have been perfect - except that with every passing mile the young ranger’s eyes

turned back less and looked forward ever more eagerly. She couldn’t enjoy the ride as much when the

destination was all-important.

Belli’mar Juraviel rode with the woman at times, Diredusk hardly feeling the extra weight of the diminutive

creature. The elf typically sat in front of Brynn, turned to face the woman and lying back along the pony’s

powerful neck. He didn’t speak to Brynn much along the trails, though, for he could see that the woman was

falling deeper and deeper into thought about the destination awaiting them. That’s what Juraviel wanted from

the young woman; that’s what the Touel’alfar demanded of the ranger. The goal was all-important, because

Lady Dasslerond had said it was, and nothing else should clutter Brynn Dharielle’s mind - not the fragrance of

the summer forest awakening fully, not the sounds of the songbirds, not even the sparkle of the morning sun

on the dewy grasses and leaves.

And so they rode quietly, and sometimes Juraviel leaped from Diredusk’s back and fluttered up to the

branches of the trees, moving to higher vantage points to scout the road ahead.

Their evenings, too, were for the most part quiet, sitting about a fire, enjoying their evening meal. In this

setting, with little stimulation about them, Brynn would sometimes tell Juraviel stories of her homeland, of her

parents and their small nomadic tribe, Kayleen Kek. On one such night, with Andur’Blough Inninness a

hundred miles behind them, the woman became especially nostalgic.

„We always went to the higher ground in the summer,“ she told her com-panion. „Up the sides of the great

mountains in the range you call the Belt-and-Buckle, but that we called Uleshon Twak, the Dragon Spines.

We’d camp so high sometimes that it was hard simply to draw in sufficient air. You’d always feel as if you

couldn’t catch your breath. Every step seemed to take minutes to execute, and a tent in sight might take you

an hour to walk to. I remember that at times blood would run from my nose, for no reason. My mother would

fret over me, but my father would just say that the high-sickness could do that and it was nothing to bother

about.“

Juraviel watched her as she continued her tale, her head tilted back so that her eyes were staring

up at the night canopy. It wasn’t starry that night, with thickening clouds drifting in from the west. The full

moon, Sheila, shone behind those clouds, sometimes seeming a pale full light, other times disappearing

completely behind a dark and thick blanket.

Brynn wasn’t seeing it, any of it, Juraviel knew. She was looking across the years as much as across the

distance. She was seeing the crisp night sky from a camp of deerskin tents fiested among great boulders on

the high slopes of the Belt-and-Buckle( She was pearing her mother’s laugh, perhaps, and her father’s stern

but loving comrrtands. She was hearing the nickers of the nearby To-gai ponies, so loyal-that they didn’t need

to be tethered, as they protested the sparse grasses at the great elevation.

That was good, Juraviel knew. Let per recall the feeling of the old days, of her life before Andur’Blough

Inninness. Let her remember clearly how much she had lost, how much To-gai had lost, so that her calls to

her people to reclaim their heritage would be even more full of passion and conviction.

„Do they still go to the high passes?“ Juraviel prompted.

Brynn’s expression changed as she lowered her gaze to regard the elf, as if one of the clouds from the sky

had dropped down to cross over her fair features. „I know not,“ she admitted somberly. „When I was taken by

your people, the Chezru were trying to establish permanent villages.“

„The To-gai-ru must walk the land with the creatures,“ said Juraviel. „That is their way.“

„More than our way. It is our spirit, our path to…“ She paused - unsure, it seemed.

„Your path to what?“ the elf asked. „To heaven?“

Brynn looked at him curiously, and then nodded. „To our heaven,“ she explained. „There on the high plateaus.

There in the autumn valleys, full of the golden flowers that bloom to herald the cold winds. There by the

sum-mer streams, swollen with melt. There, following the deer.“

„The Chezru do not see the value of such a life,“ Juraviel noted. „They are not a wandering people.“

„Because their deserts are not suited to such a lifestyle,“ said Brynn. „They have their many oases, and their

great cities, but to wander through the sea-sons would not show them much beauty beyond those denned

enclaves. Behren is not like To-gai, not a land of differing beauties in differing seasons. Thus they do not

understand us and thus they try to change us.“

„Perhaps they believe that in giving villages to the To-gai-ru, they will be showing the To-gai-ru the path to a

better life.“

„No,“ Brynn was answering before the elf even finished the statement, and Juraviel knew that he would elicit

strong disagreement here - indeed, that was his goal. „They want us in villages, even cities, that they might

bet-ter control us. In villages, they can watch the clans, but out on the plains, we would be free to practice

the old ways and to speak ill of our conquerors.“

„But the gains,“ the elf said dramatically. „The stability of existence.“

„The trap of possession!“ Brynn was quick to argue. „Cities are prisons and nothing more. When they run

correctly, they trap you, they make you dependent on the comforts they provide. But they take from you - oh,

they take so much!“

„What do they take?“ There was an unintended urgency to Juraviel’s tone. He could tell that he was getting to

Brynn, driving her on, which was precisely his duty.

„They take away the summer plateaus, the mountain wind, and the smell…. oh, the scents of the high fields

in the summer! They take away the swollen rivers, full of leaping fish. They take away the rides, the ponies

charging across the open steppe. Oh, you should hear that sound, Belli’mar! The thunder of the

To-gai-ru charge!“

She was breathing hard as she finished, her brown eyes sparkling with energy, as if she were witnessing that

charge - as if she was leading that charge. She finally came out of her trance a bit and looked to the elf.

„I will witness it,“ came Belli’mar Juraviel’s soft and assuring answer. „I will.“

Their road remained fairly straight south over the next few days, and Brynn was under the impression that

they had but a single goal here: to get to To-gai and begin the process of liberation.

That’s what Juraviel and the others had told her, but the elf knew that he and Brynn had other things to

attend to before beginning the long process of placing Brynn at the front of a revolution. Brynn Dharielle had

been trained in the rigorous manner that had produced rangers from Andur’Blough In-ninness for centuries,

but, as fine as that training might be, Juraviel knew that it had its limitations. Even the most difficult trials - for

Brynn, one had involved shooting targets from the saddle and at a gallop - were with-out the greatest of

consequences, and hence, without the true understand-ing of the disaster that could be failure. For failing a

test in Andur’Blough Inninness could mean humiliation and weeks of intense corrective training, but failing a

test out here would likely mean death. Brynn had to learn that, had truly to appreciate all that she had to

lose.

And so, on that morning when Belli’mar Juraviel took note of some curi-ous tracks crossing the soft ground in

front of them - tracks so subtle that Brynn didn’t even notice them from horseback - he allowed the woman to

move obliviously past the spot, then studied the trail more closely. Juraviel knew the tracks, had seen them

many, many times during the days of the Demon War, when he had traveled beside Nightbird and Jilseponie

battling Bestesbulzibar’s minions. The tracks were like those of a human, a young human, perhaps. But

those made by shod feet revealed a poorly crafted boot, and those made by bare feet showed a telltale

flatness in the arch and a wide expanse at the toes narrowing almost to a point at the heels.

Goblins. Moving east and in no apparent hurry.

Juraviel looked up and studied the area, even going so far as to sniff the breeze, but then he smiled at himself

and shook his head. The tracks were probably a day old, he knew. These goblins were likely long gone.

But he knew the direction.

To Brynn’s surprise, JurayieLannounced that they had to turn to the east for a bit. She didn’t argue/of cobrse,

for he was her guide, and so with a shrug, she brought Dirediisk in line behind the moving elf. When that day

ended, the pair had put twenty miles behind them, but in truth, they were no closer to the steppes of Tp^ai

than they had been the previous day, something that Brynn surely/took note of.

„Are we to travel around the world, then?“ she asked sarcastically after they had eaten their dinner of

vegetable stew. „Perhaps that way, we can sneak up on the Chezru from behind.“

„The straight line is always the shortest distance, ‘tis true,“ the elf replied. „But it is not always the swiftest.“

„What does that mean? What have you seen up ahead?“ Brynn got up and looked to the south. „Monsters?“

„There is no barrier looming to the south, but this road is better, I believe.“

Brynn stared hard at the cryptic elf for some time, but Juraviel went back to his eating and didn’t return the

look. He wanted to keep the mystery, wanted to have Brynn off-balance and wondering. He didn’t want her to

know what was coming, and likely coming the very next day.

Later on, when Brynn was asleep, Juraviel hopped, flew, and climbed up the tallest tree he could find and

peered through the dark night to the east.

There was the campfire, as he had expected. It was a long way off, to be sure.

But the goblins, he believed, weren’t in any hurry.

Brynn stared through the tangle of trees, sorting out the distinct and con-fusing lines until she was fully

focused on the ugly little creatures beyond.

They were diminutive - not as much so as the Touel’alfar, but smaller than Brynn. Their skin color ranged from

gray to sickly yellow to putrid green, and hair grew in splotches about their heads, backs, and shoulders.

Elon-gated teeth, misshapen noses, and sloping foreheads only added to the gen-erally wretched mix. Brynn

wasn’t close enough to smell the creatures, but she could well imagine that such an experience wouldn’t be

pleasant.

She turned and looked up to Juraviel, who was sitting comfortably on a branch. „Goblins?“ she asked, for

though she had heard of the creatures during her stay with the elves, she had never actually seen one.

„The vermin are thick about these stretches,“ Juraviel answered, „out-side the borders of the human

kingdoms.“

Brynn thought things over carefully, particularly their unexpected change in course of the previous day. „You

knew they were here,“ she reasoned. „You brought me here to see them. But why?“

Juraviel spent a long moment looking through the trees to the goblin group. Several of them were visible, and

he suspected that more were about, probably out destroying something, a tree or an animal, just for the fun

of it. „You do not know that I brought you here to see them,“ he said.

Brynn chuckled at him. „But why?“ she asked again.

Juraviel shrugged. „Perhaps it is merely a fortunate coincidence.“

„Fortunate?“

„It is good that you should view these creatures,“ the elf explained. „A new experience to widen your

understanding of a world much larger than you can imagine.“

Brynn’s expression showed that she could accept that, but Juraviel added, „Or perhaps I feel it is my - our -

duty to better the world wherever we may.“

Brynn looked at him curiously.

„They are goblins, after all.“

The woman’s expression didn’t change. „Goblins who seem not to be bothering anybody or anything.“

„Perhaps that is because there is no one or nothing about for them to bother at this moment,“ Juraviel

replied.

„Am I understanding your intent correctly?“ the young ranger asked, turning back to survey the distant,

undeniably peaceful scene of the small goblin camp. „Do you want us to attack this group?“

‘Straight out? No,“ Juraviel answered. „Of course not - there are too many goblins about for that to be wise.

No, we must be more stealthy and cunning in our methods.“

When Brynn looked back to him, she wore an expression that combined curiosity, confusion, and outrage.

„We could go around them and leave them in peace.“

‘And fear forever after for the mischief they would cause.“

Brynn was shaking her head before Juraviel ever finished, but the elf pressed on dramatically. „For the

families who would soon enough grieve for loved ones slain by the evil creatures. For the forests destroyed

and dese-crated, the animals senselessly slaughtered - not for food or clothing, but just for entertainment.“

„And if we murder this band, then we are no better than the goblins, by any measure,“ Brynn declared, and

she tilted her head back, her expression proud and idealistic. „Is it not our compassion that elevates us? Is it

not our willingness to find peace and not battle, that makes us better than creatures such as this?“

„Would you be so generous if those were Yatol priests about that distant encampment?“ the elf slyly asked.

„That is different.“

„Indeed,“ came the obviously sarcastic reply.

„The Yatol priests chose their course - one that invites revenge from To-gai,“ Brynn reasoned. „The goblins did

not choose their heritage.“

„Thus you reason that every single Yatol priest took part in the atrocities perpetrated upon your people? Or

are they all guilty for the sins of the few?“

„Every Yatol priest, every Chezru, follows a creed that leads to such con-quest,“ Brynn argued. „Thus every

Yatol priest is an accomplice to the atroc-ities committed by those followi0|f utieif-^oinrnf>n creed!“

„The goblins have visited more grief upon the world than ever did the Yatol priests.“

„Being a part of that group, gobliris, is not a conscious choice, but merely a consequence of parentage.

Surely you of the Touel’alfar, who are so wise, can see the difference.“

Belli’mar Juraviel smiled widely at the compassionate young ranger’s rea-soning, though he knew, from his

perspective garnered through centuries of existence, that she was simply wrong. „Goblins are not akin to the

other thinking and reasoning races,“ he explained. „Perhaps their heritage is not their choice, but their actions

are universally predictable and deplorable. Never have I seen, never have I heard of a single goblin who goes

against the creed that is their culture and heritage. Not once in the annals of history has a goblin been known

to step forward and deny the atrocities of its wretched kin. No, my innocent young charge, I’ll not suffer a

goblin to live, and neither will you.“

Brynn winced at the direct edict, one that obviously did not sit well on her slender shoulders.

„I brought you here because there before us is a stain upon the land, a blight and a danger, and there before

us is our duty, clear and obvious.“

Brynn glanced back as she heard the commanding, undebatable tone.

„We will search the forest about the encampment first,“ Juraviel went on. „Thinning the herd as much as

possible before going to an open battle.“

„Striking with stealth and from behind?“ Brynn asked with clear sarcas.

But her accusation, for that is what was obviously intended, was lost on uraviel, who replied simply and with

ultimate coldness, „Whatever works.“

Less than an hour later, Brynn found herself crawling through the brush south of the goblin camp, for she and

Juraviel had worked themselves around the location. The ranger moved with all the stealth the TouePalfar had

taught her, easing each part of her - elbow, knee, foot, and hand - down slowly, gradually shifting her weight

and feeling keenly the turf be-low, taking care to crunch no old leaves and snap no dried twigs.

A dozen feet before her, a pair of goblins labored noisily, one of them breaking small sticks from the trees

and tossing them back to its ugly com-panion, who was hard at work with a small stick and bow, trying to

start a fire. Brynn and Juraviel had overheard a pair of the creatures a short way back, and Juraviel understood

enough of the guttural language to relay to Brynn that the goblins were planning to set great fires to flush out

easy kills.

Brynn paused as she considered that conversation, for she had argued against JuraviePs clear implication

that the goblin plans proved his point about the creatures’ temperament. Humans hunted, after all - the To-gai

were particularly adept at it. Perhaps this was only a difference in method. Lying there, Brynn understood

how weak her argument had been. The amount of kindling that was being piled and the sheer joy on the face

of the goblin who intended to set the blaze told her that this was about much more than a simple hunt for

food.

Still…

Juraviel had given Brynn his sword for this unpleasant business, though in her hands it was no more than a

large and slender dagger. That would work better than her staff or bow for now, though, for this had to be

done quickly and quietly. Especially quietly.

She continued forward another couple of feet, then a bit more. She could hear the creatures clearly, could

smell them. With mud streaked about her face, and leaves and twigs strapped to her clothing, Brynn

understood logi-cally that she was somewhat camouflaged, but still she could hardly believe that the goblins

hadn’t taken note of her yet!

The one bent over trying to start the fire yelped suddenly and started to stand. Its companion, closer to

Brynn, looked to regard it, smiling stupidly, apparently thinking that the fire was starting to catch.

But there were only wisps of smoke, then the goblin, halfway upright, yelped again, and then again, and its

companion’s expression shifted to curiosity.

And then Brynn was behind it, her hand coming around to clamp over its mouth, her dagger, Juraviel’s silverel

sword, driving deep into the creature’s back, just to the side of the backbone, sinking deep to reach for the

goblin’s heart. Brynn felt that keenly - so very keenly! She felt the flesh tearing, the varying pressures as the

dagger slid through, and then felt an almost electri-cal shock, as if she had touched the very essence of the

creature’s life force, the point of the weapon acting as a channel to let that life force flow freely from the

goblin’s body.

The other goblin yelped again and fell over. Then it yelped - or tried to - yet again, and clutched at its throat.

The goblin in her arms went limp and she eased it to the ground, think-ing that she should go and finish the

other. It was a forced thought, though, for all that Brynn wanted to do at that horrible moment was fall to her

knees and scream out in protest. She growled those feelings away and steadied herself for the necessary

task at hand, pulling free the bloodied sword and considering her next kill. Belli’mar Juraviel was at the other

gob-lin before her, though, standing over the creature, his small bow drawn back fully.

He put another arrow into the squirming^gdblin, then another. And then a third, and the creature seemed as if

it would not die!

The next arrow drove through the side of its head. It gave a sudden, vi-cious spasm, and the light went out of

the goblin’s eyes.

It was all Brynn could manage to keepjteafs flowing from her eyes, to keep from crying out in horror and

revulsion, and pain.

So much pain.

Was this why she had trained as a ranger? Or was „ranger“ even the proper word? Was it, perhaps, merely a

cover for the true intention of her training, the true title she should drape across her shoulders: assassin?

„Come, and quickly,“ Juraviel said to her, drawing her back from her in-ner conflict. Hardly thinking, she

followed the elf along the circuitous route, until they happened upon another goblin, out collecting kindling.

It was dead before it even knew they were there.

The perimeter was secured then, and so the pair focused their attention on the encampment itself, where a

band of more than a half dozen of the creatures milled about and sat around the smoldering embers of the

previ-ous night’s fire. They had a large, rusty pot sitting atop it, and every once in a while, one went over to it

and ladled out some foul-looking stew.

„We could wait to see if others wander out alone,“ Juraviel said to her. „Take them down one or two at a

time.“

Brynn winced visibly at the thought, wanting all of this to be over as quickly as possible.

„The time for stealth is ended,“ she said determinedly, and started to rise, intending to charge straight into

the band.

Juraviel caught her by the arm and held her fast. „What is a To-gai-ru war-rior’s greatest weapon?“ he asked.

„Even beyond courage and the bow?“

Brynn nodded and handed him his small sword, then turned about, understanding. A few minutes later, the

goblins in the encampment stood and looked cu-riously to the north, to the crashing and thumping echoing

out of the forest.

grynn Dharielle, astride Diredusk, came through the last line of brush with bow drawn. She took the goblin

farthest to the right first, dropping it •with hardly a squeak, then got her second arrow away, knocking a

goblin away from the cooking pot, a bowlful of stew flying over it as it toppled backward.

A quick and fluid movement had the bow unstrung, and Brynn tucked it under her right arm like a lance as

she guided Diredusk to a course right past a third, stunned creature. The goblin’s face exploded in a shower

of blood, the sturdy darkfern bow smashing through. Brynn cut Diredusk hard to the left, the pony trampling

the next goblin in line, then running down yet another as it tried to flee. Now Brynn swung the staff like a club,

whistling it past another goblin’s face, a near miss that had the creature div-ing back to the ground.

By then, though, her momentum had played out. She reached the far end of the encampment, leaving three

goblins standing, no longer surprised, and collecting their weapons. Where was Juraviel? Why hadn’t she

heard the high-pitched twang of his small bow or the yelps of stuck goblins?

Brynn tugged hard on the reins, bringing her pony to a skidding stop and quick turn. She flanked around to

the left, going to a half seat and bending low over Diredusk’s neck as the horse easily leaped a pair of logs

set out as benches.

Brynn yanked him hard to the left as he landed, lining up a second run at the center of the camp. The three

goblins, though, had wisely retreated to the fringes of the forest, using brush and trees for cover, and the only

target she found was the goblin she had narrowly missed on her first pass, the creature stumbling as it tried

to rise. Her aim was better this time, the swinging bow smacking it across the back of the head as she

thundered past, launching the creature facefirst. It crashed against the cooking pot, knocking it over, then it

tumbled down right onto the hot embers. How that goblin howled and thrashed! Its scraggly hair ignited, its

skin burned and curled!

With movements so fast and so fluid that they defied the goblins’ com-prehension, Brynn bent and strung her

bow as she lifted her leg over the horse’s back, then set an arrow as she dropped from Diredusk into a

charge.

R. A. Salvatore - Second Demon Wars - 02 - Transcendence

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