Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,221

young man’s weapon could not dig in.

Luthien tumbled to the side, gained control of the roll and spun about, slashing frantically, for he knew that the demon would be following.

Praehotec, out of range, sneered at him, but then the demon started suddenly, coming up a bit out of its crouch, its huge shoulders lifting the entire tent.

Luthien saw a glimmer, a rapier blade, sticking through the back of the tent, right over Katerin’s cot, aimed precisely at Praehotec’s rear end.

“Ahah!” came a triumphant cry from outside the tent.

Praehotec waved a clawed hand and a gout of flame disintegrated the material of the tent in that direction, revealing a very surprised Oliver deBurrows.

“I could be wrong,” the halfling admitted as the demon turned.

An arrow whipped over Oliver’s shoulder, thudding into the demon’s ugly, snakelike face.

Praehotec roared, an unearthly, ghastly sound, and the hair on the nape of Luthien’s neck tingled. The young Bedwyr rushed right in, his terror overcome by the thought of Katerin.

He scored a single hit with Blind-Striker, and then he was slapped away, tumbling, the whole world spinning. Lying flat against a corner, Luthien shook his head and forced himself to his knees, to see the demon approaching steadily, acidic drool dripping from its fanged maw.

Another arrow, and then another, zipped in to strike the fiend, but Praehotec seemed to take no notice of them. Oliver darted in, and then back out, stabbing with his blade, but Praehotec didn’t care.

Paragor had instructed the beast not to kill Luthien, but mighty Praehotec took no commands from puny humans.

Luthien, believing that he was doomed, scrambled about, trying to find his dropped sword. He came up to his knees and balled his fists, determined to go out with sheer fury. Then he was blinded by a sudden brightness. Luthien fell back, thinking the demon had struck again with its magic.

He was wrong.

Brind’Amour followed his lightning bolt into the tent, and Praehotec, stung badly by the blast, and by the continuing stream of arrows from the other direction, knew that the game was at its end. The fiend leaped up and scooped the unconscious Katerin in one powerful arm.

“Think well the consequences of marching on Princetown!” the beast roared.

Brind’Amour stopped his next casting, for Katerin was in the way. Siobhan hit the fiend’s back again with an arrow, but Praehotec straightened, lifting its free arm up high and thrashing the frail tent aside. Huge leathery wings beat furiously and the demon lifted away, climbing into the night sky.

“Katerin!” Luthien cried, trying to find his sword, trying to chase the beast down. He ran out unarmed and leaped high, catching one of Praehotec’s clawed feet.

The other foot kicked him, sent him spinning away into unconsciousness.

A glowing spear appeared in Brind’Amour’s hand and he hurled it up at the demon, scoring a sparking, explosive hit; two more arrows hummed from Siobhan’s great bow, sticking painfully into the demon’s legs.

But Praehotec was too strong to be brought down by the missiles. Away the beast flew, bearing Katerin, to the helpless cries of protest from the companions and from many others in the encampment who came to learn of the commotion.

Cries of protest and agony. Music to the fiend’s ears.

CHAPTER 24

BECAUSE HE MUST

HE TOOK HER!” Luthien shouted, growing increasingly frustrated, even desperate, with the rambling conversation in Brind’Amour’s tent some time later. They—the wizard, Oliver, Siobhan, and Kayryn—were discussing the implications of the demon’s raid. Now the focus was on whether or not they should still march to Princetown, or if the abduction of Katerin signaled a desire for a truce.

Estabrooke was in the tent, too, the knight sitting on a stool off to the side, thoroughly despondent.

“It is important to remember that the demon did not kill her,” Brind’Amour replied to Luthien, the wizard trying to remain calm and comforting. “She is a prisoner, and will be more valuable to . . .”

“To whom?” Oliver wanted to know.

Brind’Amour wasn’t sure. Perhaps King Greensparrow had discovered their progress and had reached out to them from Gascony. More likely, though, the wizard believed that the fiendish emissary had come from much closer, from Paragor, duke of Princetown.

“We cannot remain paralyzed on the field,” Siobhan put in, and Kayryn added her support, going over to stand beside the half-elf. “This is no paid army, but men and women who have farms to tend. If we sit here waiting, we will lose many allies.”

“Duke Paragor of Princetown took her,” Brind’Amour decided. “He knows that we are coming, and knows