The Demon Apostle

Chapter 13 Partings and Greetings

Elbryan breathed a deep sigh, not pleased at all by what he was hear-ing yet unable to dispute the elf's reasoning. He had suspected that Juraviel meant to depart soon after Dundalis was reclaimed, but for the elf to leave now, when they were but halfway from Caer Tinella to the Timberlands, was a surprise.
"I long for my home," Juraviel explained. "This is the longest time I have been away from Andur'Blough Inninness in all the centuries of my life."
"You were back there not so long ago," Elbryan reminded him, "when you escorted the folk we found in the Wilderlands. It was at the doorstep of Andur'Blough Inninness that Pony and I found you."
"A short stay," replied Juraviel, "and a short reprieve from the longing in my heart. It is the way of my people, Nightbird. You above all other humans should understand this. We live for the valley, for the nights of dancing under the clearest of skies and for the company of one another."
"I do understand," the ranger admitted, "and I do not disagree with you. Tomas brought able-bodied warriors, one and all, and as Bradwarden is soon to be scouting his familiar haunts in the forest around the three Tim-berlands towns, we'll not be taken by surprise. Allow me my selfishness, my friend, for I will miss you terribly. As I miss Pony."
"We hardly share the same place in your heart," Juraviel said dryly.
"A different place," Elbryan agreed, "but no less of one. You are as a brother to me, Belli'mar Juraviel. You know that. And when Tuntun went into the molten stone, I lost a sister."
"As did I."
"And surely my world will not be as bright without Belli'mar Juraviel beside me."
"I'll not be gone forever - not even forever in the accounting of a human," Juraviel promised. "Allow me my time with my kin, and then I will return to the Timberlands for a visit to my adopted brother."
"I will hold you to that promise," Elbryan said. "And if I do not see you before the next spring is in full bloom, then expect that I will be on my way to Andur'Blough Inninness! And with Pony beside me - and do not doubt that she will be even less forgiving than I toward the elf who forgot us!"
It was said in jest, of course, and Juraviel smiled back at Elbryan. He knew better, though. Elbryan, and especially Pony, would not be making the difficult and dangerous journey to the elven homeland the following spring, not with a baby to look after. Juraviel almost told the ranger then, but he fought the impulse.
"When are you leaving?" Elbryan asked.
"Tomas plans to break camp at dawn," Juraviel replied. "I will be gone before that."
"Have you told Bradwarden?"
The elf nodded. "Not so difficult a task," he explained. "The centaur has lived for a long time, my friend, and will outlive you and your children's children unless an enemy's weapon cuts him low. He has long dealt with the Touel'alfar and knows our ways. He admitted that he was surprised that I stayed with you this long - and was even more surprised that I went with you to the great abbey."
"Bradwarden would not expect his friend to come rescue him?"
"Bradwarden learned long ago not to expect too much from the Touel'alfar," Juraviel said seriously. "We have our own ways and our own reasons. You should take a lesson from him."
"I expect nothing from the elves," Elbryan replied, "except for Belli'mar Juraviel, my friend, my brother."
Again Juraviel, though not entirely agreeing, smiled back at the ranger.
"Farewell," the elf said. "Remember all we have taught you, and under-stand the responsibility of your position. You carry Tempest, forged by the elves, and Hawkwing, a gift from my own father. Your actions, good or ill, reflect upon us, Nightbird; you will be held accountable for those actions by Lady Dasslerond and all the elves and, most of all, by me."
The ranger, understanding that Juraviel was not speaking in jest, squared his shoulders and set his face determinedly, more than willing to accept the burden. Elbryan knew what it meant to be a ranger, had learned those lessons all too clearly over the last year, and was confident that he would not disappoint those who trained him, those who had given him these wonderful gifts, the name of Nightbird most special of all.
"Farewell," Juraviel said again. He moved away, blending into the deep-ening shadows of dusk.
"There," Elbryan said, pointing down the slope and through the brush.
Tomas Gingerwart stooped low and peered intently. He could hear fighting down below, and the thick brogue of a hearty warrior obviously enjoying the battle, but he couldn't make out anything distinctly. Some-thing flashed across his limited field of vision; it might have been a rider.
"Come along," the ranger instructed, taking Tomas by the arm and leading him quickly along the ridgeline, to a more open area. He didn't want to miss the spectacle of the fight, and thought it would be better if Tomas didn't miss it either. A few steps brought them the scene: Bradwarden running circles around a battered and obviously dazed giant.
Tomas' eyes were wide, his mouth gaping, though not at the sight of the giant, Elbryan knew, for Tomas had seen many fomorians. No, it was Bradwarden, the huge powerful centaur, that had stunned him.
"Ha-ha! Ye're not seein' much, now are ye, ye great fat cow!" Bradwarden roared. He reared up on his hind legs as he taunted the giant, his forelegs kicking wildly at the huge creature's belly and chest. And when the fomorian brought its huge arms down to block the barrage, Bradwarden smacked the giant on the top of the head with his cudgel.
The brute staggered backward and Bradwarden rushed in pursuit, then stopped short and swung around to kick out with both hind hooves, smashing into the giant's midsection, doubling the creature over. Around came a laughing Bradwarden, club flying.
Tomas winced as he saw that heavy cudgel bash the side of the giant's face, wrenching its head violently to the side, teeth falling with a gush of blood from its mouth.
"Bradwarden," Elbryan explained, "a powerful ally."
"And not so weak a foe," Tomas remarked. He winced again as Bradwarden smashed the other side of the giant's face, then hit the brute with another overhead chop, this one dropping the giant to its knees.
"Cut 'em down and finish the job, I'm always sayin'!" the centaur howled, and he spun and kicked again, each hoof taking the giant in an eye. Head snapping, the fomorian reeled backward so far that its shoulders almost touched the ground, and then it stupidly struggled back to a kneel-ing position.
Bradwarden kicked it in the face again.
This time the giant stayed down. Bradwarden, club swishing casually back and forth, moved around the great body and stood staring down at the dazed giant's torn face.
Up on the ridge, Elbryan nodded to Tomas and the two turned and started away. They had taken only a couple of steps when the first sharp crack of Bradwarden's club sounded against the giant's skull.
They didn't look back, nor did either of them speak until they neared the encampment of those brave folks following Tomas back to the Timberlands.
"He is no enemy, I assure you," Elbryan said, noting the look of concern on Tomas' face.
"Never doubted that," the big man replied. "I have learned to trust the word and judgment of Nightbird. Still ..." The man paused, obviously uncomfortable. "When we were in Caer Tinella, some of the latter folk to arrive - those that came right before or after you and Pony - brought muchtalk from the southland. Of course, in the aftermath of a war, rumors abound. ..."
"And are there any particular rumors that trouble you, my friend?" the ranger prompted.
"Not until a few minutes ago," Tomas admitted. "One rumor named a centaur as an outlaw. Knowing how rare such creatures be, I'm fearing that your friend Bradwarden might be the one."
"And did the rumors name any other outlaws?" he asked.
"No," Tomas replied, "none that I have heard tell of."
"The bearers of such rumors did not tell you that the Abellican Church searches for a woman as well?" Elbryan pressed. "And that their search for her is even more desperate than the search for the centaur? She is powerful with the sacred gemstones, you see, and has quite a hoard in her possession."
Tomas' eyes widened with recognition. He had known for some time that Elbryan and Pony feared that they might be in trouble with the Church, but what the ranger was hinting at now was far beyond anything Tomas had ever imagined.
"It is true," Elbryan went on. "They search for her and for her com-panion, a warrior from the Timberlands, one known to ride a black stallion with a diamond-shaped white patch above its eyes. It would seem these two went into the heart of the Church's power, into mighty St.- Mere-Abelle itself, and freed the wrongfully imprisoned centaur. Tomas Gingerwart, might that be a description of anybody you know?"
Tomas gave a wide smile and laughed despite his very real fears. "No," he answered innocently. "Not a man I ever met from the Timberlands would fit that description, and even if one did, no doubt he'd be too damned ugly for the likes of the woman the Church seeks."
Elbryan smiled at him, then clapped Tomas on the shoulder. Together they started again for the encampment. As they neared the perimeter, Tomas pulled up short and looked seriously at the ranger. "What about Bradwarden?" he asked. "A secret between me and you?"
"And Belli'mar Juraviel," Elbryan corrected. "Though I fear that our little friend will not remain with us much longer, as his road has turned to the west. And without him, Bradwarden becomes all the more important, for the centaur has friends in the forest and is as fine a scout as ever there was."
"Good scout, good fighter," Tomas remarked good-naturedly. "I believe that I will hire him!" The man's smile faded. "And what of it, then? Am I to keep the truth of the half-horse a secret, just giving Nightbird all the credit Bradwarden's due?"
Elbryan looked at the camp. There were more than four score people there, all able-bodied adults, all risking everything to reclaim the Timberlands. "The centaur is not a secret," he decided, "but neither is Brad-warden a topic of open discussion. Use your judgment, Tomas."
The big man mulled it over for a few moments. "They all deserve our trust," he said. "They came north trusting us, and so we should do the same."
"Still, I think it better if Bradwarden remains outside the camp," the ranger replied. "The sight of him might unnerve more than a few, and the less chatter about him the better."
"You fear the Church will come looking for him again," Tomas reasoned.
"They never did come looking for him," Elbryan explained. "His only crime was to be found in the bowels of Aida by the monks who went north to investigate."
"Crime?" Tomas echoed incredulously. "Considering the glorious events at Mount Aida, it sounds as if finding him there should have made him a hero, not a criminal."
"I agree," said the ranger. "I cannot understand the Church's actions, and stopped trying to a long time ago. They called Avelyn an outlaw, and yet, on my word, he was among the finest and holiest men I have ever known. They arrested Bradwarden and threw him in a dark dungeon simply because they believed that he could give them information about Avelyn -  and now, about me and Pony. And so we, all three, are outlaws - and Juraviel would be as well, if the Church knew of him, for he, too, jour-neyed to St.-Mere-Abelle to rescue our friend."
Tomas nodded and sighed. "And what of Pony?" he asked. "You just named her as an outlaw, and yet she walked back into Palmaris, where the Church is stronger still, no doubt, since Baron Bildeborough is no more."
"Pony is resourceful," Elbryan said firmly, though it was obvious to Tomas that he was more than a little worried. "She will not be caught unaware, and thus, she will not be caught."
They let it drop there. They had to look ahead, not back, for they still had a few more days of hard travel before them; and though the war was won, there remained dangerous monsters in the area, like the rogue giant Bradwarden had just defeated.
Perched in the sheltering boughs of a tall, thick pine, Juraviel watched Nightbird and Tomas walk into the encampment. The elf noted the admir-ing stares from every man and woman the ranger passed, and he took com-fort in watching the hands go quickly to work when Nightbird or Tomas gave a command. This was an efficient crew, hardy, strong, and well-picked; Juraviel had no doubt that the Timberlands would soon be back in the control of the humans.
That was no small matter to the Touel'alfar. The elves had a design for the human kingdoms; they liked to keep the world beyond Andur'Blough Inninness orderly. That was the real reason they trained the rangers, though they didn't tell that to the humans they trained. The rangers acted unwit-tingly as elven agents, patrolling the borders of the three human kingdoms and protecting human settlements in the Timberlands and the Wilderlands. The elves thus not only helped secure the region against invading monsters - Nightbird's magnificent work in the last war was proof of that - but also had windows through which they could glimpse all the major areas of potential human advancement.
Therefore, all events on the heels of the war were the concern of the Touel'alfar, and Juraviel was confident that he could return now to his home with news that the reclamation of the Timberlands was imminent - by men of Honce-the-Bear, including Nightbird. Juraviel knew Lady Dasslerond worried that the Alpinadorans would seize this opportunity to encroach upon the valuable forested region. Juraviel had gone far ahead of Tomas' caravan, had already been in the area of the three towns, and was satisfied that the barbarian folk under the watchful eye of Andacanavar were nowhere about.
The shortest route back home for Juraviel was almost due west, but when he left his vantage point overlooking the human encampment, the elf went south. He had heard something the night before, some distant melody car-ried on the wind, and he suspected it to betiest-tiel, the star song of his brethren. There hadn't been an audible song, of course, but the Touel'alfar had magic of their own, magic independent of the gemstones. The elves could soothe with their melodies, could even lull unsuspecting enemies to sleep. They could speak to animals and read the signs of nature clearly, usu-ally well enough to discern the recent history of any area.
But the greatest innate magic of the Touel'alfar was their empathetic, almost telepathic, bond. When Tuntun had died in the remote bowels of Mount Aida, the elves in Andur'Blough Inninness had felt her demise. They were a small group, highly intimate, and they could sense one another's movements. An elf coming upon a place where one of his brethren had recently passed would know it.
Juraviel felt something to the south, and so he went toward the distant star song.