Robert Salvatore - Mortalis

They traveled to the stream and set camp. Bradwarden lingered about the area for a while, then disappeared into the forest to scout the road ahead. To Pony's surprise, he returned a short while later, looking none too pleased.

"Goblins," he said. "Ye knew we'd meet up with the scum."

"How many? " she asked, scooping up her sword and buckling it about her waist, then checking her pouch ofgemstones.

"Small tribe," Bradwarden asked. "I might be finding a way around them."

Pony shook her head. "No time."

"Now what're ye thinkin'?" the centaur asked. "If ye go in there throwin' yer fireballs, then ye're likely to bring hosts o' the creatures down upon us. I'll find us another road."

"No time," Pony said again grimly. She tossed blanket and saddle on Symphony, tightened the girth, and mounted.

"Goblins killed Elbryan's uncle Mather," Bradwarden said suddenly. "As fine a fighter as-"

"He did not have these," Pony replied, jingling her purse ofgemstonesand she put her heels to Symphony's flanks and the great stallion leaped away.

She wore the cat's-eye circlet around her forehead and so had little trouble seeing in the dark. She followed the lone trail available and soon noted movement among the branches of a tree: a pair, at least, of goblins doing sentry duty for the campsite in a small clearing beyond.

Pony hit the tree with lightning, the resonating thunder shaking the stunned and blinded creatures from the limbs.

Pony rode right by them, into the clearing. "Begone from this place!" she cried. Symphony reared as she pulled Defender from its sheath-though, in truth, her other hand clutched the weapons, serpentine and ruby, that she intended to use.

"Begone! Begone!" she cried again in warning.

Goblins howled and shouted, ran all over and screamed curses at Pony, who was now, along with her horse, glowing blue from the serpentine fireshield. And then one of the miserable creatures rushed out from the side and launched a spear Pony's way.

The woman ducked and parried it with her sword, barely deflecting the missile harmlessly high. But the goblins gained confidence from the bold attack and came on, howling.

Pony loosed a fireball, the concussive force blowing goblins from their feet-charring some, setting others ablaze to roll roaring in agony and terror. Those not injured by the fire blast scrambled back to their feet: some running off; others standing still, confused and terrified; and still others stubbornly charging at the woman again.

Pony lifted her hand, her magical energies wrought of rage, and altered the magic of the gemstone, now shooting a line of fire at the nearest creature, engulfing it in flames. A shift of her arm and another goblin became a living torch.

And then a third, and now most of the goblins who had been charging skidded to a stop and wheeled about, running, screaming, into the forest night.

When Pony got back to her encampment, she found Bradwarden still standing on the edge, keeping watch over poor Dainsey.

"Subtle," the centaur remarked, for even here, Pony knew, her display had been visible.

"Effective," she promptly corrected. "You can go and scout out the northern road now."

Travel was easy the next day, with not a sign of goblins-living goblinsanywhere to be found. Pony rode Symphony into the foothills before dark and found a campsite among a tumble of boulders.

Bradwarden caught up to her sometime later, though he remained far away.

"Are you to go ahead again this night?" she asked.

The centaur looked to the steeply inclining trail doubtfully. "Too many rocks, too many hills, and too many little ravines," he answered. "I'd walk right by a host o' the creatures and never see 'em. And I'm not for the climb," he added, "nor should ye be bringin' Symphony-he'll slow ye down more than help ye."

"Wait here, then," Pony replied, "with Symphony. I'll take Dainsey alone tomorrow."

"Long way for carrying," Bradwarden remarked.

Pony nodded. So be it. They were long gone before first light, earlier than Pony had planned, for the night had been difficult on poor Dainsey. She was restless now, clawing at her clothing as if trying to escape somehow from that which she knew was coming.

And coming fast, Pony understood. She had seen people die-far too many people-and she realized after the turn of midnight that Death had come calling for Dainsey. And so she had set out, first on Symphony and then, when the trails became too difficult for the horse to serve any purpose, Pony turned him loose. She hoisted the woman onto her back and trudged on, forcing step after step as the minutes became an hour.

On she went stubbornly, pausing only for short rests. On one such break, she lay Dainsey down gently, thinking the woman asleep.

But then Dainsey's eyes opened wide.

"Dainsey? " Pony asked, moving close, and she realized that Dainsey was not hearing her, was not seeing her. She waved her hand right before those eyes-oh, those eyes!

Nothing. Dainsey did not see her at all.

The woman began to thrash about, her arms waving.

"No, no," Pony said. "No, damn you, Death, you cannot have her! Not now! Not after all this way!"

But she knew. The end was upon Dainsey. Pony glanced all about desperately; small sounds escaped her throat, feral and angry, for they were but a hundred feet or so from the break in the mountain pass, and from that spot, she would be able to see Mount Aida and the plateau that held Avelyn's mummified arm. How could Death, how could God, have been so cruel as to let them get this close, a mile perhaps, from their goal?

"No, no," Pony said over and over, and hardly thinking of the movement, the woman tore at her belt pouch violendy. Gemstones fell all about the ground, but one did not escape Pony's grasp. A gray stone, a soul stone.

She went into it, flew out of her own body, and charged into Dainsey's battered form. The plague was all about her, then, the stench and the images of rot.

Pony attacked, and viciously, her rage preventing her from even considering her own welfare. She tore at the soupy morass, slapped it down, scraped it from Dainsey's lungs. She fought and fought, throwing all her strength fully against the tiny demons.

And then she was done, sitting to the side, crying.

Dainsey was still alive-Pony had bought her some time, at least. But how much? And how could she hope to go on, for she could barely lift herself off the ground?

She did get up, though, and she went to Dainsey and, with a growl, lifted the woman into her arms, half carrying her and half dragging her, up, up, until she reached the summit of this pass, breaking through the ring of the Barbacan. There before her loomed Mount Aida, a mile perhaps to the plateau and Avelyn's arm. Only a mile! And with several hundred miles already behind her.

But she couldn't hope to make it, not now; and already Dainsey was showing signs that Death had come calling once more, that the reprieve was at its end.

"Malachite," Pony whispered, and she looked all about, then realized that the gem must be on the ground with the others back down the path. She set Dainsey down again, and turned to get it, but stumbled, exhausted, and went down hard. She started to rise, so stubbornly, but understood that it was over, that even if she could find the gemstone quickly, she'd never find the strength to use it to any real effect.

It was over.

They walked through the streets as unobtrusively as possible, making the daily run for supplies down to the dock section before the sunrise. This day, though, they had learned of the riot in that area, of many Behrenese beaten, even murdered, and all at the hands of this strange cult, the Brothers Repentant.