Stalking the Beast

by Howard Andrew Jones

  And Elyana had disappeared. He hadn't seen her move away. He raised his voice, wondering why it quavered a little as he shouted. "Elyana!"

  Strange—he was not usually so tired when he woke, even in the dead of night. The lust for battle normally roused him. "Elyana!"

  "Here!" came the answering call. It seemed as though it rose from the direction of the barking dogs. Drelm launched into a staggering run. His gait was unsteady, and he thought that might be because he was barefoot. His soles were tough, though. Dimly, he was aware that the monster needed killing, but he was sure Elyana would know better what to do, and she might need help killing something else.

  Some ten or twelve paces on he realized someone else was running at his side and glanced over to find the young sorcerer there, bleary-eyed, hair a wild corona, clutching the wand in two hands as if the thing were her salvation. Drelm noticed for the first time that the wand had a blunted tip, and wondered how it could possibly be useful for killing anything until he remembered it was for working magic.

  This troubled him, for he knew that he should have known that without having to think so hard.

  The dogs had surrounded a tall elm with bowed branches and now bayed at its base. One of their number lay dead. Two others shifted back and forth, the dead halfling's dog with them, and a third put forelegs to the bark and bayed.

  Lisette and Elyana watched the upper branches, limned against the stars. The elf had her bow nocked, and the markswoman held her rifle.

  "And what, exactly, are you planning to do?" A male voice called down from somewhere within the tree.

  Calvonis.

  Melias paused, breathing heavily, and Drelm felt her hand on his shoulder as she leaned there for balance.

  "What are you planning?" Elyana called up.

  "First, I'm going to watch the druids die."

  "I don't mind that so much," Elyana said, which bothered Drelm. She launched an arrow into the tree.

  Again came the laugh. Calvonis sounded amused. "Even if you come close, you cannot hurt me, elf. I thought you'd have learned that by now. I've been blessed by holy Razmir. I am one of his chosen."

  "Chosen for what?" Elyana asked.

  Lisette had stepped away now and was moving to the left even as Elyana let fly with another arrow.

  "Surely you must be running out of those," the voice called down. "Running low on arrows, running low on dogs, running low on warriors. Yet I still live, and so does my angel. For I am blessed and I have heard the word!"

  This last was almost a chant.

  "And what do you reap," Elyana asked, "for sowing the word about your mad god?"

  "In the here and now? Glory. And in the future, eternal life in the blessed paradise of Razmir, greatest of all gods."

  Drelm growled deep in his throat. Razmir was a little god.

  Calvonis carried on almost conversationally. "Your blasphemies do not trouble me, elf. For you are an insect. You toil and strive to make a difference, to save these other lives, but who lives and who dies is completely up to Razmir, and I am his agent upon Golarion."

  There was a brilliant flare along the tree trunk. Drelm whirled, then saw Lisette dashing from the bole. A fire had begun in the trunk.

  Calvonis laughed. "You think to flush me out with fire? I can summon my angel back at any time! How long do you think it will be before the fire even begins to trouble me? Your arrows and your stones cannot reach me. Nor your orc's axes. Yet I may destroy any of you any time I like."

  The sorcerer had lifted the wand and was now muttering as she pointed it toward the sound of Calvonis's voice. She seemed to be repeating every few words he said.

  "You're surely powerful," Elyana said. "I'll grant you that. And clever. But I still don't understand what your purpose is. You speak of angels, and being chosen, and the glory of Razmir. How do you honor Razmir through this madness? Are you a priest?"

  Lisette's fire was now licking up the trunk of the tree, and a braid of smoke twisted through its branches.

  "I am no priest. I am a disciple. I am like the scythe to the grain! Those who do not know the glory of Razmir will—"

  Drelm happened to be looking right at the muttering sorcerer when the green bolt sped from the wand and into the treetop. It flared and defined a screen of energy and stopped the madman in mid-sentence. Melias muttered "glory of Razmir" once more, and a second bolt followed.

  "He's got a magic shield," Drelm shouted.

  "Glory of Razmir!" the little sorcerer shouted, and a third glowing green bolt of acid sped into the sky.

  There was a sudden popping noise, and a strange, reptilian scent, and Drelm spun, a little unsteadily, to discover that the beast was there.

  Most of it remained invisible, but there were splotches of blood across its scales, and ichor dripped down its face.

  Drelm charged, even as the girl behind him continued to shout, "Glory of Razmir!"

  The bolt of magical energy streamed past Drelm's shoulder as he ran and caught the beast in the same eye socket already dripping gore. It roared its pain, and Drelm roared his own fury and leapt to bring his axe down upon the eye ridge. A gunshot erupted beside him, and what must have been the eye exploded into ruin, rendered real and visible in its destruction.

  The axe blade sank deep. Rather than prying it free, Drelm used the haft to scramble up the beast's face, and realized after he had done it that he had pushed off a fanged tooth while the monster screamed in pain. Something heavy whistled through the air just past his head, spraying him with blood. The tentacle? The odds were good that one of them would strike him. He hung on with one hand and smashed again and again into the ruined eye with his throwing axe. The creature shifted beneath him, crying in pain, the scales sizzling each time there was a cry of "Glory of Razmir!" and more of its face was revealed.

  After six good blows, something whiplike grabbed Drelm about the leg and threw him to one side. Drelm, still woozy, managed to land with his hands out so that he ended in a drunken roll.

  And it was then that Abadar smiled upon him, for there was a cry of dismay from above and the sound of crashing branches. Drelm looked up.

  Later he would be told how Melias's wand blasts had worn through Calvonis's magical shield, and that Elyana and Lisette had been able to hit the still-invisible summoner via the sound of his voice and the visible movement of a branch shaking as he retreated from the main trunk of the tree. But Drelm knew nothing about any of that. He merely knew something unseen had dropped out of the tree before him, and saw from a patch of blood that seemed to show a shoulder and part of an arm—not to mention a decorative arrow fletching—that he was near a man.

  Drelm threw himself toward this new target even before he realized it must be Calvonis. The summoner was already clambering to his feet, but Drelm seized hold of an ankle, then what must have been a belt.

  He felt something sharp drive into his arm. A small blade, as invisible as its wielder. But Drelm only grunted and punched. He heard a sickening crack, and a groan, and the flow of blood defined part of a mouth, and lips. There was little trouble then in finding a neck, with both hands.

  Again he felt the blade bite into his arm, and then he heard Elyana and Lisette as they grabbed the invisible summoner's arm. Elyana commanded Drelm to release his hold. This he was reluctant to do.

  "Banish your monster," Drelm ordered, "or I'll crush your throat."

  "He has, Drelm," Elyana said. "He's been begging you to release. Didn't you hear?"

  Drelm grunted. All he'd heard was a sort of whispering noise. But he relinquished his hold on Calvonis's neck and stepped back.

  "Drop your spell," Elyana demanded.

  Suddenly, Calvonis was there, bloody and bruised. Lisette immediately flipped the man over and began to bind his hands behind him.

  "Witch!" Calvonis shouted at Elyana. His voice was strangely distorted, probably because Drelm had broken his nose rather profoundly. It leaned heavily to the left.

  "Lisette, let's frog
-march this coward back to the camp."

  "Coward!? I am no coward! I would like to see you—"

  Lisette smacked the side of his face, then kicked the back of his head for good measure. "I don't plan to kill you before we get there, because I'd have to carry you then. But I bet you could walk with a few more holes in you. Do you want to find out?"

  Calvonis didn't answer.

  While Lisette stood guard, Elyana searched the summoner's belongings and patted him down, taking a number of items.

  "You dare profane sacred articles of Razmir with your touch? Those were in the palm of the Living God himself!"

  "Any god with you as a chosen messenger doesn't interest me much," Elyana replied.

  "I'll bet this wand would melt your face clean off," Melias said matter-of-factly.

  The summoner lapsed into sullen silence.

  If Drelm had felt poorly dressed when he raced into the fray, the girl was even worse. Melias was barefoot as well, and wore only a light shift. The young woman pushed back locks of hair and sternly eyed the summoner, her wand at the ready.

  "You came through at just the right time, Melias," Elyana told her as she pulled a leather satchel from Calvonis's shoulder pack. "Without you, we couldn't have brought him down."

  Melias's lips turned up in a grim smile.

  Elyana spoke on. "I'll see to it that you get a proper share. The one Venic was supposed to receive."

  "I want no money." Melias's voice was soft, but final. "Just seeing him dead..."

  "Vengeance doesn't put food on the table," Elyana told her. "I'll see you get paid."

  Melias shook her head but made no more complaint.

  Elyana recovered little of seeming interest—apart from the satchel, which seemed to hold paper and drawing utensils, she found only some jewelry and various weapons. Elyana set all of these aside without comment. "That will do for now. Go ahead, march him back. Melias, go with them. If he so much as twitches, blow his head off."

  "With pleasure."

  Lisette pushed the madman before her, one pistol to his back, her hand upon his wrists. Melias followed along on the left, wand at the ready.

  Elyana then considered Drelm. "You look like hell."

  "I've been worse."

  "Don't I know it." The elf smiled at him. "I think you can last until we get back to camp. Let's gather up what I found on Calvonis, then I'll take a look. I want to make sure there's no one worse off."

  As it turned out, the Oakstewards had taken the brunt of the action. Cyrelle and the elves had never fully awoken, so deeply had the drugs affected them. Fortunately, the fight had never reached them.

  Five of the seven Oakstewards were dead, including Shalon, the redhead.

  Before Calvonis had summoned the beast to defend him at the tree, the druids and Grellen had managed to inflict a great deal of damage on the beast. Grellen claimed he'd severed one of the tentacles and that the druids had blasted halfway through the other, which might have explained why the beast had been so slow about attacking Drelm.

  So far as Drelm was concerned, the mission had worked out beautifully—and, more importantly, he would shortly return to wed the woman of his dreams. While Lisette led Calvonis over to speak with the druids, Elyana sat Drelm down on a log and saw to his wounds.

  He watched her work, still unable to entirely shake the strange daze that had touched his thoughts. It was good to have such a friend, and he thanked Elyana as the torn skin on his forearm mended under her touch and there was nothing left of the dull ache but a faint tingle. She then touched his hand, turned it palm-up, and pressed a thin ring into it.

  "What's this?"

  She tapped the ring's edge. "One of the secrets to Calvonis's health."

  Drelm brought it close for inspection, and he saw that it was carved with little flowing letters he didn't recognize. A small gem winked at its heart.

  "It was made by elven hands, the gods know how long ago. It bestows health to its wearer. I've seen its like before. And," she continued with a smile, "it might just fit on your smallest finger."

  Drelm grunted skeptically. "Why give this to me?"

  "Because I've never seen anyone get wounded as often as you."

  Drelm was no master at reading a woman's expressions, but there was something in her voice as she went on that gave him pause. "If I weren't always there to heal you, I think you'd long since be dead. Now neither of us need worry."

  "I never worry," Drelm said, "because you're always there."

  Elyana paused. "That may not always be true."

  Most women were mysterious, but never Elyana. So why now? "What does that mean?"

  Elyana shook her head.

  "You never hide things from me."

  She sighed. "You'll be settling down now, Drelm. You have a home."

  "You also have a home," Drelm reminded her, and spoke on even as she shook her head. "Wherever I make my home is yours. But there's also the town, where you're revered. You shall be aunt to my children, and teach them to shoot, and ride."

  "That would be something to see," Elyana said.

  He felt a heaviness then, as if chains had suddenly been set upon his heart. "But you don't want to see it?"

  "Now's not really a good time to talk about it." Elyana bent to open Calvonis's satchel. Drelm saw a paper that had been stowed in eelskin along with a compass, pen and ink, a ruler, and various other small metal implements he didn't recognize.

  Elyana studied each of these, then unfolded the paper and examined it carefully in the light of the coals about the fire. Drelm wondered if she truly found something of interest there, or if she were simply changing the subject.

  "What is that?" he asked, although he wasn't actually interested. He would rather be asking her why she thought she needed to leave Delgar. Why she needed to leave him.

  "It's a map."

  As Drelm worked the ring onto the last finger of his left hand he stepped around so that he could look over her shoulder. "A map of what?"

  "The River Kingdoms. Here's the Sellen." Elyana put her finger to a long ribbon winding along near the bottom of the map. Drelm could make out shaded areas that were probably supposed to be forests, and dots that indicated settlements, beside cramped labels.

  But there were other dots besides, with even tinier handwriting that Drelm couldn't make out. "What are those?"

  Elyana's answer was tinged with disgust. "Looks like he's keeping track of his attacks. Look. Here's the date when he attacked Illidian's scouting party, and the number of dead."

  Drelm couldn't quite read the tiny handwriting, but he let out a little whispered prayer to Abadar and put a finger on a string of letters near the attack point. "Is that—"

  "Onderan's massacre. Onderan was working with him. Given Calvonis's spouting of Razmiri doctrine and the activation words on Onderan's wand, it seems even more obvious now. I'll bet Calvonis is the one who gave Onderan the wand and paid him."

  "But why?" Drelm asked.

  "I'm not entirely sure," Elyana answered. "But he's been busier than we realized. Look at all these sites he has marked off, both east and west of Delgar."

  Drelm couldn't read many of the details, but he could count, and it seemed to him that there were at least fifty attack sites. "Is it some kind of pattern?"

  "Not that I can see." She frowned and folded up the paper. "I think we'll have to show it to the druids."

  "I thought you didn't trust them."

  "I don't. But there may be something else here that only a magic-worker could notice."

  Elyana looked up suddenly, and Drelm turned to find that Lisette had returned from the druid camp to join them. The markswoman was almost as quiet in the grass as Elyana.

  "Sorry to interrupt," Lisette said, "but I think you need to get over here."

  "What's going on?" Drelm asked, rising.

  "Calvonis says he'll only talk to Elyana."

  Drelm cracked his knuckles. "I think I could make him talk."

  L
isette smirked. "I wish the druids would let you."

  Elyana carefully refolded the map, then all three of them walked to the hill's height and the ruined tents where the Oakstewards were talking. They found the summoner seated cross-legged on the ground, hands bound in front of him, facing the fire. Kilvor and the balding druid, Hindreck, sat across from him, the flames at their back.

  Calvonis grinned at Elyana. The druids, Drelm saw, had healed his nose and pulled Elyana's arrow from him, but they hadn't cleaned him up. Dried blood stained the summoner's face and shirt.

  "There she is!" Calvonis said. "The icy warrior woman with the heart of gold. These two are idiots. But you, you have promise."

  "Do I?" Elyana didn't sound especially interested.

  "Oh, you do. You want answers? I have them for you. As many as you want. But first there's something you must do for me."

  paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas , Aug 10, 2014

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fireside Tales

  Lisette

  Lisette had undergone rigorous training to divorce her emotions from her actions, but, as her master had constantly repeated, she'd only ever gotten good at pretending they were separate. That had engendered many a sharp rebuke over the years she had worked with the Black Coil. She knew the master was dead wrong—she had functioned quite ably under his tutelage and continued to do so, no matter his sharp words.

  So often had he critiqued her that she could imagine his words even in new situations. And this one time he would have been right. There was the half-orc, her target, painted red where the fire touched him and clawed by darkness where it did not.

  Yet because she let her emotions hold too much power, she wanted even more to blast the cocky summoner.

  She tried never to waste money killing things that couldn't earn her pay. She'd already won her fee by helping catch Calvonis, so now she knew her time was best spent finding a way to plug the sanctimonious half-orc.

  She'd missed a fine chance at a shot at him in the midst of the battle because it might have raised suspicions. By now everyone had seen her shooting with such precision that it would take a fantastic melee to be able to explain a stray, half-orc-slaying bullet. She now fumed that there might be no other opportunity.