The Justicar stood, looking carefully over the burned ruins nearby. “What happened here?”
“Old history, my friend. The Takers came here a month ago! The town began missing its people five by five, ten by ten. They sealed the gates and gathered together in the temples. Then the Takers came and got ’em in one go.” The Sergeant gestured to the dark. “Must have burned about two hundred folk alive in the temples. The rest were just gone. Six hundred folk lost without a trace.”
The Justicar turned a slow survey of the ruins. “These ‘Takers’… you know what they are?”
“Reptilian chameleons. Vicious. They’re like troglodytes, only smarter. They have magic. They hit fast, they have brains. No one sees them come or go. No trails ever last more than three miles.” The sergeant flexed his hands. “All over Keoland it’s the same. Ain’t seen anything like it since the giants.”
“Giants?”
“Three, maybe four years ago. Giants raided the whole kingdom. Killed hundreds.” Walking along beside the trail left by the Takers, the sergeant beckoned Escalla, the Justicar, and Polk to follow. “The forest march is in ruins. We must have lost—what?—two thousand people in the last two months.”
Polk ceased crunching on his apple and goggled. “Two thousand people! Son, you’ve got a problem!”
Escalla drolly raised one alabaster brow. “Thanks man. They may have picked up on that one by now.”
The trail led straight through the shattered town ramparts and then into overgrown fields. Old cabbage crops had gone to seed, and the trampled plants showed the path of the prisoners and their reptilian guards as they headed off toward a wilderness of scrub. The sergeant motioned toward a flat patch over to one side of the trail.
“Found us a dead one there. Half-orcish boy, about ten, maybe twelve. Shot in the back.”
Bending carefully over the indicated spot, the Justicar searched carefully amongst the cabbage stalks. “You buried him?”
“Yep. Buried him at midday.”
Turning to the sergeant, Jus suddenly tilted his head. “You said shot. Not hit by a javelin?”
The sergeant shrugged. “Could have been a javelin. No weapon left in the wound.”
“But you said shot!” A soldier’s instincts were not to be ignored. Jus knelt down over the trampled patch of earth and leaves. “Was he found on his front or his back?”
“Lyin on his, ah, on his back.”
Escalla and Polk crowded close, watching in interest as the Justicar combed the dirt with bare fingertips. It was soft black loam, well seasoned with manure by patient gardeners. His fingertips struck something buried in the muck. He brushed dirt aside, and then carefully began digging down into the soil.
An arrow lay buried in the dirt point-upwards. It was a short shaft, the point snapped off by the victim as he spun and fell.
The arrow shaft was ludicrously small and fine, like a scale model of a crossbow bolt. Escalla looked at the thing and gave a little frown.
“It snapped off right down at the end?”
“No. I think it was made this short.” The Justicar carefully blew dirt from the business end of the shaft. “See? There’s a metal shank in the shaft where the point broke away. This arrow was made this long.”
It only measured six inches in length. Escalla picked up the arrow, examined the wood, the feathers and the nock, then pitched it away from her in disgust.
“It’s from a hand crossbow.”
Drow. The dark elves. Only they used such weapons, and drow haunted the dark places of the earth where troglodytes might dwell. Jus and Escalla looked at each other in perfect shared knowledge, then stood up and flanked the sergeant.
“Where did you lose the trail?”
The soldiers hurried them through the brush, looking left and right to scan the darkness.
“Half a mile ahead. It just vanishes.” The sergeant waded over tall cabbage stalks and broccoli. “We’ve seen it before. Do you know how they do it?”
“I can guess.” Jus pitched the broken crossbow bolt away. “Take us there.”
Jus’ voice seemed the one iron-hard, dependable thing in all the world. The soldiers had never once asked for proof of his identity or authority. The big man moved with a solid, tireless step, his eyes scanning for danger and his thoughts kept to himself. The sergeant followed close behind like a pup trailing a wolf.
Half a mile’s walk in the pitch darkness was no laughing matter. The scrub land seemed full of roots and stumps designed to trip a man over on his face. As the terrain separated the party out from one another, Jus beckoned Escalla over to his side.
“What do you know about drow?”
“Usual stuff.” Escalla sat on Jus’ shoulder, where she could whisper in quiet to Jus and Cinders. “Evil, live underground, slave takers, spider obsessed… Females are more powerful than males. Oh, and the females have a dress sense that makes me look like Saint Cuthbert’s maiden aunt!” The girl stroked her chin—a motion unconsciously copied from the Justicar. “They’re poison users, too. Can we handle that?”
“It’s no problem.” Jus mentally counted through the spells and powers at his command. “I can neutralize it with a spell.”
“Hoopy. So as long as you’re not the one that gets hit, we’re all in clover.” Escalla sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “No one’s tied the drow to this before? Why hasn’t there been any sign of elves?”
A bright, mad grin shone in the darkness
Cinders smelled! The hell hound seemed immensely pleased with himself. Cinders smelled them—yes! Elfie-pixie-faerie smell. Smelled at Sour Patch, first time!
“Yep. Got me there.” Escalla nodded acceptance and patted the dog. “You sure did, pooch. We just forgot to take note.” Escalla gave a sigh. “Sorry. I owe you a tail rub.”
Welcome.
The scrub thinned. Just ahead of Jus, the sergeant stood in the light of Private Henry’s lantern, wearing the triumphant look of someone about to share confusion and perplexity.
The trail of crushed and broken bushes ended on a broad, roughly circular patch of grassy ground. At the middle of the huge clearing stood a ring of standing stones.
The stones were massive slabs of granite, moss covered monoliths that seemed to have sprouted from the Flanaess itself. Each pair of stones was topped by a capstone to form a titanic arch. The trail ended at the base of one archway, the footprints once again cut off as though sliced with a knife.
It was a familiar enough sight. Escalla looked the offending archway up and down as she hovered before it in midair.
“Jus? Check the locator thingie.”
The ranger opened his pouch and duly produced the charm. It swiveled, settled, and hung pointing south without making so much as a twitch. Escalla looked at it in interest then paced busily up and down.
“Damn! They’re still miles away!”
“No matter.” Storing away the charm, the Justicar arose and looked at the stone circle. “The murderer must be linked to these slave raids. It looks like they might be following the same route.”
“Yeah.” Escalla’s frown faded then suddenly was replaced by a look of sly, brilliant joy. “Yeah!”
Sidling past Polk, the girl ended up beside the sergeant.
“Sarge? Saaay, this king of yours…” Escalla tapped the fingers of her hands together, suddenly the heart and soul of avarice. “If we were to free these poor lost citizens of yours and maybe detonate whoever’s behind these raids, do you feel the king might express his joy in a physical, maybe fiscal type of way?”
“Huh?”
“You know, in a material fashion.” The girl excitedly waved her hands. “An openhanded expression of esteem. Royal pleasure demonstrated though means of treasury assets.”
The sergeant scratched his head, giving a confused look at the little faerie girl. “You mean is there a reward?”
“Yes! If you want to get all uncouth about it!”
“Well, Ma’am, that is, Miss, I belie
ve the reward stands at ten thousand gold pieces.”
“Ten!” Goggling, Escalla waved her hands, almost lost for words, then came racing up to shake the sergeant by the hand. “Kick back, man! Relax! We’ll deal with it!” The faerie halted suddenly. “Does this king of yours have a name?”
“Umm…”
“Great! Tell King Um that Escalla’s on the job!” The girl turned a back flip, ending up beside Polk, who was sneaking yet another drink from his faerie bottle. “Polk, let’s get busy! Time to show these guys that their worries are at an end!”
Always happy to see activity, Polk corked his magic bottle. The man had apparently been sneaking more than just a wee drink or two to sustain him on the march. He wiped his mouth and gave a happy, addled cry.
“That’s great! Well, come on. Time’s a-wastin!” The little man picked up his feet. “Lezz go!”
Jus wearily uncoiled the magic rope from his belt—a shortened, somewhat scorched souvenir from a battle with an erinyes—and whipped it out to entangle Polk. The Justicar hauled Polk in like a flapping fish, took one sniff at him and gave a huge, threatening growl.
“You’re drunk!”
“Never, son!” Polk seemed far happier than any man on a murder investigation had a right to be. “It’s just high spirits! Glad we’re on the job!”
Jus growled. There were too many things to occupy him. Looking at the stone circle, the ranger called, “Escalla! Just tell me how we’re supposed to trigger these damned gates! Is there a spell to tell us what the keys might be?”
“Sure there is!”
“So throw the spell.”
“I can’t. I don’t know it.” Escalla waved innocently. “Like we use it every day! Come on, man, we’re going into battle! I just tanked myself up with shields and fireballs!”
Jus pried the ever-full liquor bottle away from the complaining Polk and asked, “So how do we find the key?”
“Hey, J-man!” The girl circled, taking possession of the ever-full bottle. “You’ve got to think practically! The trick with these gates is that sometimes you might get here and not be carrying the right key, so you always hide a few spare keys somewhere you can reach ’em. Our murderer came here about an hour or two ago, so just look for any place real close that looks like a hiding place!”
Escalla searched the column tops and the crowns of a few nearby trees. The sergeant, Private Henry, and their unnamed companions spread out with lanterns to look beneath toadstools and stones. Jus dragged Polk along by the scruff of his neck as he set about searching for anything out of place. The pure white of his light-stone showed his face grim and seething.
Polk struggled, and the Justicar snarled in dark, dire anger, “Polk, don’t you ever, ever get drunk on the job again!”
“But son, I’m making your chronicles! It’s to help my creative flow!” Polk waved his hands. “It was the kelp, wasn’t it? All right, I can change to beer when we’re actually on the job!”
“Polk, you get the bottle back at rest stops. One cup at lunch, one cup at night, and nothing more!”
The hapless teamster wailed like a child deprived of his only toy, but Jus dragged him on.
Ten minutes of fruitless searching yielded no surprises except one edible truffle and a family of voles. Annoyed and still battling with Polk, the Justicar yelled up to Escalla as she flew amongst the monoliths, “Escalla, did you find anything?”
“No.” The girl seemed miffed. “I looked in all the good places! It’s always somewhere close! I mean, what if you were in a hurry?”
“You’re supposed to be an expert!”
The faerie lost her temper. “I am an expert! You people think you can do a better job, then just fly up here and do it yourself!”
Losing patience, Jus stood and bellowed, “Just tell us what the damned key’s likely to be!”
“It could be anything!” Equally annoyed, Escalla flew backward as she spoke. “It could be a herb, a fruit, a rock, a flower, diamonds, silver, a flute, a dead rat… For all we know, it could be the golden hairs from a virgins—!”
Escalla passed through the arch above the tracks, and suddenly magic flashed in a sharp, white light that lit the entire hilltop. For a split second, Jus saw a look of astonished embarrassment on Escalla’s face—and then the girl was gone. The gateway still shimmered with magic.
With only seconds to act, Jus picked up Polk, ran toward the gate, and bellowed over his shoulder, “Sergeant, thank you! We’ll be back!”
Jus leaped through the gate, Cinders swirling about his back. There was a flash, then Jus landed on dry soil that stank of sulphur. Cinders made an appreciative noise, sucking in the stink of smoke and flame. The night sky above was lined by the vicious teeth of a mountain range, teeth back-lit by hellish volcanic flames. A natural archway of rock formed the magic door behind them. Polk sat blearily looking at the volcanoes. Leaping about like a mad locust doing an interpretive dance, Escalla clutched at her groin and pranced about in pain.
“Damn it! Assa frassa fragin dammit!” The girl made a mad little dance in the dark. “Holy Hanali, that stings!”
Jus rose, disoriented by his passage through the gate. “What stings?”
“Mind your own business! Ow! Ow! Oooow!”
Jus poised himself to investigate further, when suddenly there came a flash, and fresh light flooded through the gate.
Private Henry sat up in the dust, blinking in fright. The young soldier sat up, then yelped as Jus hauled him to his feet with one mighty heave of his hand.
Too late. The gate snapped shut, its eerie light cutting off to leave the archway dead and dim. Jus planted himself before the young soldier and roared, “What are you doing here?”
“Sir! Um, well, sir…” Terrified, the boy looked up at the vast, grim figure looming over him. He helpfully offered his lantern “I… I brought a light, sir!”
“That’s wonderful.” The Justicar turned to the faerie. “All right, Escalla. Send him back.”
“No.”
Jus turned to look in astonishment at the faerie, who hovered unhappily nearby.
“Jus, I can’t.” She looked embarrassed, pained, and evasive all at once. “I haven’t got any key material left! The gate took it all!”
“The gate took it all?”
Jus blinked, recoiled, and for two heartbeats his countenance froze. Then his whole face lit into a smile. The big man suddenly folded forward and bit his fist. Huge shoulders shook, then a laugh escaped him to shake and shatter the night. He laughed for the first time in public memory, laughing all the harder once he saw Escalla’s face. The Justicar laughed so hard he cried.
Escalla stood flapping her mouth in indignation, then turned away, her ears flaming bright. “Oh right! Sure, sure. Now it’s funny! What happens when we need to go back?”
Cinders snickered like a mad thing, his tail whirling madly round and around. Funny!
Jus was having trouble breathing. One look at Escalla set him off laughing again. “A white wedding dress… !”
The girl swelled up in righteous anger. “All right! Yes, I admit it! I qualify. I qualify for a white wedding dress! Right! There! Are we all happy now?”
Jus almost choked. “No one touches the faerie!”
Escalla seethed, folded her arms across her breasts, and turned away. “Oh, go bite a purple worm’s butt!”
* * *
In the pitch dark world of the Dreadwood, tiny lights dipped and swirled though the treetops. The forest floor glowed the sickly colors of dreams as savage little shapes tore through the woods in search of prey.
Beside a burned and ruined village, among corpses and old apple trees, an elf hound ran sniffing wickedly at the ground. The creature leaped up to land upon an upper branch and found a scent clinging to the bark. He gave a long, flute-like howl.
Two faerie warriors flashed into visibility. They flew up to the branch and joined the elf hound, then pulled out a hunting horn and blew a low, moaning note that echoed above
the trees.
Long minutes later, Lord Ushan arrived.
The faerie lord still wore his robes that swam with all the colors of flame, but now the fire ran blue and white instead of red. The lord knelt beside his hunters and fingered a single strand of perfect golden hair that had caught upon the apple bark.
He breathed a long, slow breath of triumph and turned his face toward the waiting apple trees.
The warriors watched and waited while Lord Ushan of Clan Sable let his thoughts drift with the wind.
The gate could lead almost anywhere and pursuit was no longer the top priority. A great many plans had worked well tonight.
It was enough.
Lord Ushan made a slashing motion with his hand. The warriors sheathed their swords then flashed back into invisibility, their wings whirring as they shot off into the gloom.
* * *
Twenty minutes after their arrival, the group stood at the lip of a chasm that plunged deep into the earth. Volcanoes lit the distant horizon, ebbing and pulsing like blood. The red light made the shadows seem darker and more filled with menace, and the whole landscape seem to shift and move in hunger. The air held a stink of sulphur, ash, and acidic rain. Cinders breathed it in like a breath of holiday air, while his companions’ noses snorted from the hellish stink.
The tracks of hundreds of feet led down treacherous paths toward the chasm floor. Skeletons and corpses glimmered in the ebbing volcanic light, showing where some captives had slipped and tumbled to their doom. In this grim scene, the only sounds were the distant hiss of steam from the volcanic range and a sudden snicker from the Justicar.
Stung and indignant, Escalla shot the man a dire glare.
“Will you stop it with the laughing already? Enough!” The girl tossed her golden hair. “I just happen to be saving myself for Mister Right.”
“While dressing like Miss Wrong!”
“No one likes you, Jus! We took a poll!” The faerie waved her hand toward the chasm. “Now if we are all quite ready, would you take a reading with the locator spell?”
Descent into the Depths of the Earth Page 13