Stalking the Beast
Number XVII of Pathfinder Tales
Howard Andrew Jones
Paizo Publishing, LLC (2013)
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Rating: ★★★★★
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, General
Fictionttt Fantasyttt Generalttt
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When a mysterious monster carves a path of destruction across the southern River Kingdoms, desperate townsfolk look to the famed elven ranger Elyana and her half-orc companion Drelm for salvation. For Drelm, however, the mission is about more than simple justice-it's about protecting the frontier town he's adopted as his home, and the woman he plans to marry. Together with the gunslinging bounty hunter Lisette and several equally deadly allies, the heroes must set off into the wilderness, hunting a terrifying beast that will test their abilities-and their friendships-to the breaking point and beyond. But could it be that there's more to the murders than a simple rampaging beast? From critically acclaimed author Howard Andrew Jones comes a new adventure of love, betrayal, and unnatural creatures, set in the award-winning world of the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game.
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Elyana whirled, arrow nocked to her bow. "It's here!"
Drelm ripped one of his throwing axes free and perceived the sway of branches where there was no wind, just to the left of the tracks Elyana had been examining.
Elyana launched an arrow into the emptiness beside the bending branches. A second and third winged after as Illidian's sentries came running.
But the arrows only clattered from the side of some huge unseen object. Elyana cursed and shouted for blades.
Drelm launched his axe, his teeth bared in a grin that displayed his lower canines. For all that he strove for balance, Drelm never questioned a righteous battle, and this was surely one of them.
His axe stuck in something at roughly head height, and then blood sprayed forth to dye scales hung in midair a deep scarlet. Whatever the invisible beast was came on swift feet. The thing's tread was silent, but the ground rocked as its bulk raced forward.
Drelm slapped Charger's haunch to send him galloping to safety, then took up his battleaxe and rushed the monster with a savage cry. He was awash with the joy of battle, and he grinned to find Melloc beside him with bared sword.
He kept track of the monster's approach by his axe, which seemed to be floating above the bloody scales. Just as the axe drew within striking range, a great weight slammed into his side and sent him flying ...
The Pathfinder Tales Library
Novels
Prince of Wolves by Dave Gross
Winter Witch by Elaine Cunningham
Plague of Shadows by Howard Andrew Jones
The Worldwound Gambit by Robin D. Laws
Master of Devils by Dave Gross
Death's Heretic by James L. Sutter
Song of the Serpent by Hugh Mattews
City of the Fallen Sky by Tim Pratt
Nightglass by Liane Merciel
Blood of the City by Robin D. Laws
Queen of Thorns by Dave Gross
Called to Darkness by Richard Lee Byers
Liar's Blade by Tim Pratt
King of Chaos by Dave Gross
Stalking the Beast by Howard Andrew Jones
The Dagger of Trust by Chris Willrich
Skinwalkers by Wendy N. Wagner
The Redemption Engine by James L. Sutter
Journals
The Compass Stone: The Collected Journals of Eando Kline edited by James L. Sutter
Hell's Pawns by Dave Gross
Dark Tapestry by Elaine Cunnningham
Prodigal Sons edited by James L. Sutter
Plague of Light by Robin D. Laws
Guilty Blood by F. Wesley Schneider
Husks by Dave Gross
Light of a Distant Star by Bill Ward
The Treasure of Far Thallai by Robin D. Laws
Short Stories
"The Lost Pathfinder" by Dave Gross
"Certainty" by Liane Merciel
"The Swamp Warden" by Amber E. Scott
"Noble Sacrifice" by Richard Ford
"Blood Crimes" by J. C. Hay
"The Secret of the Rose and Glove by Kevin Andrew Murphy
"Lord of Penance" by Richard Lee Byers
"Guns of Alkenstar" by Ed Greenwod
"The Ghosts of Broken Blades" by Monte Cook
"The Walkers from the Crypt" by Howard Andrew Jones
"A Lesson in Taxonomy" by Dave Gross
"The Illusionist" by Elaine Cunningham
"Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver by Erik Mona
"The Ironroot Deception" by Robin D. Laws
"Plow and Sword" by Robert E. Vardeman
"A Passage to Absalom" by Dave Gross
"The Seventh Execution" by Amber E. Scott
"The Box" by Bill Ward
"Blood and Money by Steven Savile
"Faithful Servants" by James L. Sutter
"Fingers of Death—No, Doom!" by Lucien Soulban
"The Perfumer's Apprentice" by Kevin Andrew Murphy
"Krunzle the Quick" by Hugh Matthews
"Mother Bears" by Wendy N. Wagner
"Hell or High Water" by Ari Marmell
"A Tomb of Winter's Plunder" by Tim Pratt
"Misery's Mirror" by Liane Merciel
"The Twelve-Hour Statue" by Michael Kortes
"In the Event of My Untimely Demise" by Robin D. Laws
"Shattered Steel" by F. Wesley Schneider
"Proper Villains" by Erik Scott de Bie
"Killing Time" by Dave Gross
"Thieves Vinegar" by Kevin Andrew Murphy
"In Red Rune Canyon" by Richard Lee Byers
"The Fate of Falling Stars" by Andrew Penn Romine
"Bastard, Sword" by Tim Pratt
"The Irregulars" by Neal F. Litherland
Stalking the Beast © 2013 Paizo Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.
Paizo, Paizo Publishing, LLC, the Paizo golem logo, and Pathfinder are registered trademarks of Paizo Publishing, LLC; Pathfinder Roleplaying Game, Pathfinder Campaign Setting, and Pathfinder Tales are trademarks of Paizo Publishing, LLC.
Cover art by Sam Burley.
Cover design by Andrew Vallas.
Map by Crystal Frasier.
Paizo Publishing, LLC
7120 185th Ave NE, Ste 120
Redmond, WA 98052
paizo.com
ISBN 978-1-60125-572-3 (mass market paperback)
ISBN 978-1-60125-573-0 (ebook)
Publisher's Cataloging-In-Publication Data
(Prepared by The Donohue Group, Inc.)
Jones, Howard A.
Stalking the Beast / Howard Andrew Jones.
p. : map ; cm. — (Pathfinder Tales)
Set in the world of the role-playing game, Pathfinder.
Issued also as an ebook.
ISBN: 978-1-60125-573-0
1. Monsters--Fiction. 2. Imaginary places--Fiction. 3. Good and evil-- Fiction. 4. Pathfinder (Game)--Fiction. 5. Fantasy fiction. 6. Adventure stories. I. Title. II. Series: Pathfinder tales library.
PS3610.O62535 .S73 2013
813/.6
First printing October 2013.
Printed in the United States of America.
To the memory of my father, Victor Howard Jones, for the gift of story and so much more. I wish you were here to hold this book.
paiz
o.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter One
The Sorcerer's Wand
Elyana
Melloc screamed in terror as the emerald bolt splattered his bright blue tabard. He stumbled for cover.
Elyana dropped, sliced the nearside straps that buckled the leather armor sizzling beneath his ruined tabard. The cackle of the sorcerer who'd thrown the spell was a distant irritation
"Stay down," Elyana hissed to the young guardsman. His panicked struggles threatened to expose him to more fire. There was precious little room behind the rounded brown stone where he and Elyana had raced for protection. It didn't stretch a full horse length, and if either of them were to rise into a crouch, Onderan could target their heads.
While Melloc fumbled with his other buckle, Elyana heard a loud pop from atop the boulder, like grease in a frying pan. Her gaze whipped up. A green glow burned along the stone's rim.
Nothing to worry about there...yet. She reached over Melloc to slash his other strap, then rolled to snatch her bow and sent arrows winging across the distance between them and the mad sorcerer. Three shafts arced out over the sunlit meadow, disappearing behind the dappled sienna boulder a hundred yards distant.
She fired three more and then, as the arrows were still airborne, dropped the bow and grabbed the shoulders of Melloc's armor to aid the young man as he wrestled out of the boiling, popping ruin. Once free, Melloc lay panting, his bright eyes intent upon the nacreous green edges of the fist-sized hole in his armor. Steam snaked upward, bringing with it the scent of scorched padding.
"Gods," he whispered. "Thank you, Elyana.
Elyana clapped his shoulder. "You alright?"
"Fine." Melloc's answer was a little too swift to be true. He felt the white tunic he'd been wearing beneath the armor, then lifted it to inspect the muscled torso beneath.
The ends of his blond mustache trembled as he breathed deeply. "Can he burn through the whole rock? The one we're hiding behind, I mean?"
"Maybe," Elyana answered, "but I don't think he will. That would drain the magic in his wand. He was probably aiming for your heart."
Melloc paled.
"Relax. We have him pinned." She offered a reassuring smile.
Grace and beauty tended to be the bywords for elves in human societies, and Elyana was like them in that regard, from slender tapering ears to long limbs. Yet she was far from some primped, high-society diplomat. Elyana was a warrior woman, with weathered gear that included the worn black sheath that held her longsword, the battered but sturdy quiver slung over her shoulders, and the finely fashioned recurved bow of bone and yew. Loose black breeks tucked into heavy cavalry boots, and brown sleeved armor of interlocking leather plates draped her from neck to thigh, covering all but a hint of the beige cuffs and collar of her shirt. If the sword belt cinching it all off defined her waist and hinted at curves beneath, it was no concern of Elyana's. Armor was for staying alive, not attracting suitors.
Though her garb was all but colorless, Elyana herself was crowned by auburn hair pulled tightly back from her forehead. Her eyes were a violet so vivid they seemed almost to glow. Those eyes now left consideration of Melloc as she peered at the distant boulder where Onderan had taken refuge.
No one could hope to survive in the River Kingdoms for long without some wildlands knowledge, and Onderan was no novice. But he was not nearly as crafty as he supposed, for he'd managed to be chased into a narrow, steep-sided valley with a dead end.
With its lovely wildflowers, colorful red-brown cliff side, and abundant greenery, the area seemed an incongruous site for a battle to the death.
The sorcerer's voice was a dry rasp, yet deceptively light. "You missed me again, elf!" he shouted. "But I didn't miss your friend. Did I kill him?"
One of several things Elyana liked about Melloc was his composure, remarkable in someone still under the age of twenty. But the young man's brush with death had apparently shattered his good judgment, and he couldn't resist an answer.
"Still alive, madman!"
Elyana held a hand up to him, shaking her head. Melloc's cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment.
"Well," Onderan responded mockingly, "I thank you for guiding me to such a highly defensible position. You did fine!" He laughed. "I have a better shot at you than you do at me!"
"Stupid bastard," Melloc muttered. His eyes narrowed. "I'd trade a lot for a good shot at him."
"You nearly traded everything," Elyana reminded him. Melloc's gaze locked with her own and she saw his jaw shake in rage. "We've got him in a dead end, remember?"
Melloc nodded reluctantly.
"There's nothing he can do unless he gets you angry enough to make a mistake."
"Right."
"If you get killed on my watch, your father will have my head."
Melloc grinned at that. "Father's too fond of you to take your head."
The lord mayor had, politely enough, indicated his interest, and she acknowledged this with a faint quirk of her lips. "True or not, I don't intend to lose you because of an old fool's taunts. We just have to keep Onderan occupied until Drelm's in position."
At mention of the captain of Delgar's guard force, Melloc glanced at the steep cliff overlooking the east side of the sorcerer's hiding place.
There was yet no sign of the big half-orc. Drelm was not especially nimble, but he was an experienced climber. Elyana expected him to arrive at the summit at any moment. Onderan would be unable to see him from his hiding place.
"If you want to trade insults, go ahead," Elyana continued, softly. "Just remember why you're doing it."
Melloc brushed the ends of his mustache with grass-stained hands. They shook a little, she saw, reminding her this kind of opposition was new to the young man. A year on the guard force had seen him chase off a few wretched river pirates and break up some brawls, but he'd never faced a sorcerer out to kill him.
Melloc stared into the blue sky above their boulder. "What finally made you snap?" the young man called. "You get tired of living in the wastelands, old man?"
"I got tired of your father!" the sorcerer called back. "Lording it over everyone on the river like some prancy Taldan duke! Course, there ain't any Taldan dukes who'd want an orc in their family tree!"
Melloc's brows furrowed.
"How you feel about that, boy? A green pitchfork in your sister's hay patch?" Onderan cackled gleefully.
Melloc fumed and fumbled at his sword.
"What are you planning?" Elyana whispered tightly.
Melloc pointed at the boulder, in Onderan's general direction. "He insulted my sister and the captain."
Elyana stared at him. "Melloc," she said, "when Drelm and Daylah marry, they're going to be having sex. A lot. You do realize that?"
"Of course I do!" The boy exclaimed, then immediately lowered his voice, and his head. "But it's no one else's business! Least of all his!"
"You'll be hearing about it for the rest of your life," she told him. "And so will they. Best get used to it.
"It's no one's business but theirs," Melloc repeated.
"Do you plan to trim the head off every gossip or old prig you ever meet?"
Melloc frowned.
"Tell me, Elyana," Onderan called to them. "You're good with animals! You ever ride on the orc's green saddle!" He dissolved into titters.
"He goes too far!" Melloc snapped.
"Your sense of honor will get you killed." Elyana liked the boy, but she was losing patience with him. If she'd known they'd end up hunting a fugitive on today's patrol she would have brought Demid or Gered. She raised her voice. "What is it you want, Onderan?"
The madman laughed. At the same moment, Elyana caught sight of Drelm crawling forward to the height of the overhang sixty feet above the sorcerer.
Her friend was broad and thick, and his skin indeed held a faint greenish tint. As he was on duty, the half-orc would normally have worn the same sort of metal helm still shielding Melloc
. This he'd put aside so sunlight wouldn't reflect and reveal his position. The blue tabard of Delgar, too, had been removed, and Elyana supposed that was because her fastidious friend didn't want to mar the cloth with mud or grass. Drelm possessed a fine chainmail shirt, but today he was garbed only in the same light leather byrnie formerly worn by Melloc, well browned and matched almost to the color of his hair. A chameleon would have been hard pressed to blend into its surroundings so well.
"What do I want, elf?" Onderan asked. "I already have what I want!"
Drelm's head turned toward Elyana, and she knew he was awaiting her signal. He was no great marksman with a bow, but he had a good eye with his throwing axe, and Elyana was sure Onderan would already be dead if she'd commanded it.
But she didn't want the sorcerer dead. Not yet. She wanted answers.
Why had Onderan, a cantankerous but pliable old hermit, suddenly launched into a killing spree against every living thing at Hamdan's farm? And when had he ever commanded the kind of power he displayed now?
Drelm had wanted to bring Onderan down like the mad dog he was, and, seeing her friend's precarious situation, she was starting to wish she'd let him. Drelm could easily scale down the face of the cliff, but he'd be well exposed doing so.
Elyana signaled to him to move forward on his own call. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, then waited.
She'd have to keep Onderan talking. "There's got to be something you want, Onderan!"
Once more he laughed. "Are you offering yourself? All this talk of fornication get you excited, Elyana?"
"He's disgusting," Melloc said softly.
Elyana's lips twisted in agreement that was not revealed in the tone of her reply. "I'm not up for negotiation."
Drelm must have judged the moment right, for he was lowering himself over the side, seeking footholds. She saw he'd removed his usual gauntlets, but retained his heavy boots. She hoped they had good traction.
"Too bad," Onderan's voice came back. "I've had my fill of wine. And the best food that godsforsaken, puffed-up, filthy village can manufacture. Your father ain't lord of much, Melloc!"
"There's gold," Elyana suggested.
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