the beast is.'
As Melf moved away from the camp, he could hear the quiet sounds of veterans readying for some unknown peril. There were no calls or cursings, only the matter-of-fact noise of armor being donned and weapons unsheathed. Chert and Lizard had been awakened and with Biff were making ready for who knew what. Melf crept to the verge of the grove, staying well within the shadows, peering in the direction they had come. He too sensed a great, malign presence there.
Peering skyward, the elven mage noted that the starry expanse was blackened and blurred. Then he heard a creaking beat, accompanied by groans and a soughing of the air. His knees shook, and it took all of his will to stand and face what came. Terror washed over him in waves, and something deep inside his mind tried to compel him to scream and fall down in despair. Instead, Melf drew forth a slender wand of adamantite. The ancient metal was engraved with curious squiggles, and the tip bore a pale, milky crystal. He stroked the device and whispered, bringing the crystalline point into luminescence.
'Now let us see what you are,' he drawled casually, denying his fear. He inscribed a glowing rectangle in the air before him, and as he completed it the phosphors from the tip of the wand flowed to form a plane of palest violet before him. This effect was duplicated instantly in the air before the oncoming thing, as it flapped and groaned and sent terror in driving waves before it.
An ear-splitting roar shook the trees as the thing struck the magical force thrown up before it by the elven dweomercrafter. Melf looked away from the abomination that the interplay of force and malign magic of the lower regions created when they met. The vaguely batlike daemon was elephantine in size and terrible of visage. It struggled against the screen of energy, tearing madly with mindless fury. As the monstrosity broke through, Melf worked quickly, causing another and yet a third plane offered to spring into magical being.
'May you tear yourself to bits fighting such!' he said vehemently to the unhearing monster. Then he turned and ran to where his companions waited. This was a thing to flee from, not to fight.
The group broke from the trees in a rush, reckless now of rough ground. The mounts galloped without urging, spurred on by the malign waves of fear inspired by the flying daemon from the deepest pits of Hades itself. It seemed as if they would actually escape, for the abomination was still battling the last of Melf’s force walls when they rode away. Soon enough, however, the soughing was all around them again, and with it the stench of vilest evil.
'Now we must dismount and make it pay dearly for our souls,' Melf said heavily. Even as they prepared, the heavens were shaken by a triumphant bellow, and the beating of monstrous pinions resounded from the hills. The four stood in a line facing the onrushing monster conjured from the depths of woe. Each knew this would be his last battle.
Chapter 14
'Parseval's plan is a sound one,' Deirdre concluded. 'I say we divide our party as he suggests.'
'It is stupid!' Gord retorted angrily. 'The brigands are riding northward across the frontier region, and you would divert our strength to turn southward!'
More debate followed, while the elven constable sat back with hauteur fixed upon his countenance. The party had traveled to the Kron Hills riding the hippogriffs of Celene's elite chivalry. Parseval and a score of noble guards had accompanied them. Now another matter had arisen.
Upon alighting near the village of Hommlet, a small settlement set around a crossroads, they had been met by the local lord, Burney, titled Worshipful Magus by the Viscount of Verbobonc, and his lieutenant, Sir Rufus of Skipperton. These stalwarts had given the party intelligence on recent events. The band of hard-bitten riders had called themselves free traders. Their leader was a dwarf, with a squint-eyed gnome and a stick-like elfin company. The strength of the brigand assemblage was no more than three dozen of mixed human and demi-human races, and with this band were a string of pack horses and a few small, two-wheeled wains. This information was almost an aside, however.
'They left the village next morning,' Sir Rufus told the group. 'They left without disturbance, paying for all they had used — food, lodging, supplies. I had them followed by a pair of scouts… but these ill-looking 'traders' merely went off down the road to Verbobonc, not doing anything other than travel their way. My men turned back in the afternoon, with the train still heading northward.'
'You allowed them to simply ride away?' Deirdre said derisively.
Burney shrugged. 'Word of their depredations only reached us yesterday. Besides, I doubt what strength we can muster here would have been sufficient…'
'Quite right,' Gellor said firmly. 'Your duty is to protect this community and to report activities of interest. You have done well by any measure.'
'The folk of Welkwood expect us to aid them' Sir Rufus interjected. 'But it will take two days to raise the levy and several more to reach the rallying point. Had we attempted to interfere with passersby who made no trouble, where would we be now in this time of need?' he concluded, giving the girl a challenging stare.
Deirdre reacted hotly, her hand upon her sword hilt. 'Celebrated as heroes rather than ones who make cautious excuses!' she shot back.
'Dead heroes are unreceptive to celebrations,' Curley Greenleaf said dryly. Turning to Parseval and his fellows, the druid inquired, 'But you, Lord Constable, might make this your cause.'
'The woodsmen of Welkwood are no affair of Celene,' said Parseval.
Burney smiled softly and raised a finger. 'But it was the elves of that wood who asked our help,' he countered.
'What's this?' demanded Lord Parseval.
'As my friend related earlier, Lord Constable, there is a great horde of humanoids and men raging through the Welkwood. They gather up the evil hiding within the forest, gaining strength as they come. Their path has been traced from the Suss Forest far south of here, and it seems they intend to traverse the entire woodlands all the way to the Gnarley.'
'These are the very ones who followed us from the start,' Oscar observed. 'If so,' Deirdre added, 'we must join with those who oppose them, for such is our duty.'
The debate that followed divided the party. Gellor pointed out that the enemy was escaping northward, and that the ravaging horde within the forest was merely a diversion. The cavalier would have none of it, for she saw things in another light. In her estimation, this horde had threatened them. Blonk, undoubtedly one of its minions, had slain Jokotai and the three apprentices of Greenleaf without mercy. Possibly they were moving to reinforce the dwarf-led brigands as well, suggested Deirdre, for none knew for certain that the caravan had not veered eastward — to take shelter within the fastness of the Gnarley Forest until their fellow murderers arrived to assist them! The female cavalier insisted that duty required her to ride to the aid of those who opposed this evil horde, and that those who refused to accompany her had neither honor nor courage.
At this point, the elven constable proposed that he make ready to accompany any force that was bent on bringing the ravagers to battle, for subjects of Celene were involved after all. He and his squadron of hippogriff- mounted warriors would be certain to locate the enemy and bring them to bay. There were mounts, after all, for the party as well, and Deirdre's words were befitting a chivalrous noble of Celene as well as a patriot of Hardby.
'Gord is correct, if tactless,' Gellor said. 'Our mission is to recover an instrument of most malign power from the clutches of evil. I too would say we must stop the humanoid despoilers from their savagery — were we not otherwise sworn. The greater evil, and the greatest good, lie northward. There we must go.'
'Oscar and I go to slay these foul raiders,' Deirdre said with finality. 'You others can do as you wish.'
The one-eyed bard was grim-faced as he nodded. 'Then so be it. Let us see who will remain faithful,' he said. Deirdre seemed to wince at these words, and Oscar turned away but made no objection to the cavalier's assertion that he would accompany. Parseval and the rest against the horde to the south.
With the disposition of Deirdre and Oscar decided, Gellor turned to the other members of the group and elicited their answers by calling their names.
'Greenleaf?'
'Need you ask?' replied Curley with a wide grin.
