by Paul Kidd
“All right, pooch, blow!”
Blow!
The hell hound shot a stream of hot air from his muzzle, and Escalla hung her glorious hair in its path, spreading it out to dry.
As she worked her hairbrush, the faerie sang a song as she stood in the warm breeze. A slight tinge of sulphur was more than compensated for by sheer convenience. The girl threw back her hair, heaved a sigh… andthen heard a twig break in the bushes at her back.
Escalla streaked sideways, a fireball already crackling in her hand. Dazed by her speed, the Bleredd priest squatted on the ground and raised his hands to shield himself from the blast. About to roast the man, Escalla bristled with fury, clinging tight to her damp towel.
“All right! What the hell do you want?”
With his head hunched forward at the neck just like a ferret, the priest moved his hands up and down, trying to placate the angry girl.
“To talk, to greet a comrade, to introduce.” The man sankinto a seated position, trying to make himself small and non-threatening. “Iwant nothing-merely a chance to say hello.”
“Well, hello.” Escalla let her hand drop slightly, thefireball still half-formed between her fingers. “I was getting dressed.”
“Forgive me, dear forest princess, for this intrusion. I cameout of worry-that is, out of concern.” The priest folded his hands.“Concern for your companion the Justicar.”
Her pointed ears lifted suspiciously, and Escalla raised one eyebrow. “Concern?”
“Your companion the Justicar…” The priest tilted his headlike an animal coming at a problem. “For a man of his devotion, he seemsstrangely… impoverished.”
Oh, this ought to be great! Escalla clapped her hands together and wore her most innocent face.
“Well, he’s a special kind of guy. As long as he gets hishead shaved once a month, he’s happy.”
“Yes… which I why I wished to ask for your advice.”
The Bleredd priest no longer wore his armor, but a heavy warhammer still stuck its savage head through his belt. The man subtly moved to cover the brutal weapon with his sleeve.
“My temple is interested in furthering the cause of justice,perhaps even establishing a permanent corps of peacekeepers and investigators.”The priest tilted his head. “Your friend would be the one man who could provideus with the proper guidance… for a suitable consulting fee, of course.”
Escalla nodded sagely and looked duly serious. “Oh, ofcourse!” The girl made a sorrowful noise. “But he really doesn’t care so verymuch about money.”
“Yes, therein lies our problem.” The priest fixed a cool eyeupon Escalla. “But you could perhaps persuade him to accept such a sum.He could then perhaps donate it to a worthy cause.”
“Oh, very worthy!” Escalla fluttered her wings, thepure soul of innocence. “Or you could simply pay me, and I could handle allthose details myself.”
“And use your influence to guide him.” The priest opened hishands. “You see? We are in agreement!”
Escalla kept herself well out of reach and nodded. “Oh,absolutely!”
“An alliance like this is all the stronger the sooner itbegins.” The priest made a pass with his hands, and an image of gold, jewels,and gems gleamed in the dark. “I’m sure you can now see that there areadvantages to the two of you linking forces with Bleredd’s temple… and withme.” The man made illusory gemstones gleam. “When do you think we can begin ouralliance?”
Escalla drew a big breath and put on a thoughtful face, hovering in midair.
“Hmm… yes… oooh…” The girl weighed time andschedules in her head. “Um, how’s about when winged monkeys fly from my butt!”Escalla made a face and snapped her fingers at the priest. “Nice try, creepyboy, but I’ve got plans for a treasure all of my own!” The girl tucked her toweltight. “And I really, really suggest you don’t try bothering J-man and meagain.”
The priest rose angrily and reached out to grab Escalla by the arm. She whirled, and suddenly a black sword flashed out from the night to hover beneath the priest’s throat. The Justicar loomed in the darkness, his hugeblade gleaming as it quivered just short of the priests jugular.
“No one touches the faerie.”
The ranger pushed the priest away with the tip of his sword, using the same distaste he would use to remove a piece of tainted meat. Stumbling, the priest backed away, gripped his hammer, then turned and marched off into the night.
Escalla coldly watched the priest leave, tucked in her towel, and flicked the spellfire from her fingertips.
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” The Justicar sheathed his sword with his usualfluid grace. “You weren’t interested in a bribe?”
“Hey, I’m greedy, but I’m not dumb. As if they’d pay anyonewith anything other than a foot of steel between the shoulder blades!” The girlstooped to pick up her fallen hairbrush. “But, hey, as far as corruption of theinnocent goes, these guys have really got an awful lot to learn.”
13
After long days of travel, the party was leaving the lastvestiges of safety behind. They had slept at one of the northern settlements and had been on the move before dawn. Now at long last they had entered enemy terrain, and the Justicar could forge ahead to the work at hand.
Enemy country was no laughing matter. Walking up the steep northern bank of the Artonsamay River, the Justicar slowly sank down amidst the weeds until he disappeared from view. Slithering forward in utter silence, he stared through the grasses into an alien land.
Years before, these plains had belonged to the Bandit Kingdoms. Petty warlords had lived here as brigands, raiding and reaving into the neighboring lands. Border patrols had fought bitter campaigns to keep the river lines clear, turning the region into a perpetual battlefield. With the coming of the Greyhawk Wars, however, all had changed. The Bandit Kingdoms had disintegrated under the onslaught of Iuz, and what few remained were no more than a sham, slave pits to Iuz and a refuge for the damned.
Wilderness had reclaimed the sparse few settlements. Where villages had stood, now only broken and burned skeletons of the once-proud halls lay stark against the sky. Where wagons had brought merchants and migrants, now there was only skittish wildlife and the occasional desperate bandit.
Near the river where the party waited, there was only the hollow buzz of flies and skeletal black bees.
This near the realm of Iuz, caution and skill divided the living from the dead. Taking no chances, the Justicar lay perfectly still, sensing the shift and stir of a hostile world. Before him, the undulating ground was covered knee deep in autumn grass, which looked gray and withered as if somehow drained of life. The gray stalks washed back and forth like an ocean in the breeze, sending ripples chasing far out toward the hills. Any trees on the land were restricted to scattered copses, but the nearest of these were over a mile away.
The sight would have been beautiful had it not been so dangerous. The motion of the grass could hide scouts and ambushers. The ranger stared toward the north where a distant volcano lifted plumes of thin white steam toward the clouds.
Cinders scanned the terrain with a nose sensitive to magic and eyes sensitive to heat. Tall canine ears lifted, and his tail slowly waved. After five long minutes, the hell hound finally seemed satisfied. His voice drifted ever-cheerful into Jus’ mind.
Bones stood here. Gone now.
“How long ago?”
One sleep old.
The Justicar shifted position, moving almost without disturbing the grass. Soil had been disturbed on the crest of the riverbank beside him, and the footprints had been hazed over with a film of morning dew. Thin foot bones had left their shape across the grass, marking the tread of skeletal feet.
With a pop, Escalla appeared at his side. The little faerie lay flat and quiet in the grass, whispering cautiously into the breeze. “How’s it going?”
“It looks clear.” The Justicar could see nothing, yet itseemed unlikely that the border would be left unguarded for
long. “Bring themacross quickly. Tell them to shed anything they can’t carry for eighty miles.We’ll be travelling fast.”
“Should we wait for dark?”
“We can’t see in the dark. Most monsters can.” The rangerturned awkwardly on his elbow to look back across the river. “And tell thosepriests we’re keeping low. I’ll kill any horse that so much as puts a footacross the shore.”
The river made a dull, iron gray barrier between the living kingdoms and the dead. On the far side, blowing their cover with the twinkle of metal armor and silver swords, the rest of the party was trying to catch sight of the Justicar. Escalla looked at the fools as they tried to hide themselves, gave a sniff of professional disdain, then turned invisible and whirred away to deliver her messages.
Wagons had brought the party this far-wagons laden with food,tents, and all the luxuries required by paladins and priests. Encumbered by metal armor, shields, two-handed swords, bows, arrows, and spare bowstrings, the party made each day’s travel into an enormous labor. They shot hurtful looks atthe carefree faerie and the Justicar, who traipsed happily along in each other’scompany and made do with the simplest of gear.
But now that they were across the river, the party came under the Justicar’s command. As the priests were instructed to abandon theirequipment, a chorus of outraged voices drifted across the river. Two priests tried to cling to their horses, feeling that walking would be beneath their dignity. Unfortunately, out here on the plains a mounted man could be seen at twice the distance of a pedestrian. Escalla solved the problem by hosing the area with her favorite stinking cloud spell, instantly throwing horses, mules, servants, and wagons into a stampede away from the waterside.
Much to the Justicar’s annoyance, Polk the teamster was stillvery much in evidence. Polk had skillfully assembled a raft from inflated skins to ferry the party members two by two. Both the Geshtai and the Bleredd priests insisted on being the first to cross, yet neither one deigned to help Polk with paddling the raft.
Rising from the weeds, Jus met the raft as it arrived and used his sword to hold it back from the shore.
“Robes off.”
The priests-one male and one female-both swelled inindignation.
“These are the vestments of our station,” said the Blereddpriest.
“We walk twenty miles each day. I won’t slow my pace to suityour fashion needs.”
Swathed in heavy brocaded robes and hung with collars, mitres, gold, and jewels, the two priests were poorly dressed for hiking. Polk hooted in glee as the two priests cursed and stripped away their vestments, each of them glaring at the Justicar in hate. Finally, they were left stripped down to just armor: suits of mail and plate.
“You pixie has chased away my pack mule,” said the Geshtaipriestess. “What am I to do for a tent?”
“Use a ground sheet,” the Justicar answered tersely. “Yourtents weigh too much.”
The raft returned across the stream to pick up more travelers. As Polk poled away and sang a bawdy song, the Justicar sorted through a pile of equipment left on the shore and made a sour face.
“What’s this?”
“Adventuring equipment.” Bleredd’s priest was short, weedy,and suspicious. He came complete with a suit of plate armor. “I am aprofessional.”
The man had brought ropes, cords, parchment, a ten-foot pole, iron spikes, silver mirrors, lanterns, oil, holy water…
With a snort, the Justicar ignored the whole matter. It would all end up scattered behind the party after the first two miles. Jus’ mainworry was that it would leave a trail that an enemy could follow.
Popping into view and flying merrily across the river, Escalla invited herself over to inspect the equipment pile. She saw the huge mound of gear and instantly clasped her hands against her heart.
“Ooooh, real adventurers! Professionals at last!”Escalla rooted happily through the equipment pile. “Here’s a question: just whatexactly is the ten-foot pole for?”
“I would not expect a mere pixie to understand.”
“Fine, fine! Just ring a little warning bell when you decideto use it, and I’ll be there to watch.” The faerie did a back flip through theair and hovered before the Justicar’s eyes. “This is going to be more colorfulthan I thought.”
The raft delivered two more men-the paladin resplendent insilver plate mail and a tall, cadaverous sorcerer rattling with wooden bandoliers of spell components-both from the baron’s guard. The sorcerer laboredup the shore. He looked across the landscape without the slightest bit of interest, seeming more concerned with taking an inventory of his magical charms.
Reaching the high ground, Sir Olthwaite the paladin struck a typical pose, leaning on his sword to survey the land.
Cinders’ hackles rose, and the hell hound gave an evilmental growl. Burn…
“Not yet.” The Justicar walked past the paladin. “Dump thearmor. We’re marching twenty miles a day.”
Touching a scented handkerchief to his nose, Sir Olthwaite decided to ignore such uncouth suggestions.
“No need. I am used to hardship.”
The Justicar never answered. His dark glance at the man’svelvet cloak and silver armor spoke far more than words. Cinders gave another warning growl, and Jus reached up to pat the hell hound on the skull.
“Just do your job and stay away from my dog.”
Cinders gave an unvocalized little growl. The hell hound’ssinister appearance was enough to send most casual bystanders into retreat, but it appeared that the paladin was made of sterner stuff. He gave the hell hound a thoughtful look then simply walked away.
Rattling with quivers and sheathed in a swelteringly hot armor of plate and mail, the barons archer looked suspiciously about the shoreline as he slicked back the black oily rat-tails of his hair. Avoiding the Justicar, the man made his own scan of the grasslands, keeping an arrow knocked to his heavy bow.
The Justicar looked away. His new allies had causes, none of which interested him. They wore equipment too heavy for the march, too noisy for stealth, and too clumsy for speed. Hating the encumbrance of his companions, Jus waved a hand to Escalla as she reappeared over the last raft load of goods. Much to Jus’ annoyance, Polk the teamster stepped off the raft, unshipped the lastsupplies, and showed no inclination of returning to Trigol.
Polk’s arrival was sealed by the man happily taking out anenormous stone jug of whiskey and slinging it like a backpack across his shoulders. Seething, Jus felt his own foul temper rise to the boil.
As the teamster approached with a huge grin, the ranger simply looked at him and said, “Go away.”
“Go and leave you? Cut you off without a guide?” Polk clippeda long hose to his belt. The ingenious arrangement apparently allowed him to sip from the whiskey jug as he walked. “Now see. That’s what I’m talking about.Can’t be done, not heroic. I’ll have to educate by example.”
With a strangled sound of frustration, Jus stomped off into the weeds. He checked his own light travel goods for comfort and was silencing the last tiny creaks and clanks as Escalla came whirring happily through the air.
“Hey, J-man, we moving out?”
“Time to go.” The party tagging in their wake would slow themdown. Jus was more than a tad annoyed by it all. “I’ll lead these idiots as wemarch.”
“Great! And I’ll buzz around and check out the trail ahead.If you want, I can go invisible for half an hour and zoom up high to look for trouble.”
“You can’t stay invisible longer than that?”
“I told you, it itches and it gives me dandruff!” Standing ona hummock, the girl held out a long streamer of pure golden hair. “Look at thisstuff, softer than a virgin’s kiss.” Escalla whirred her wings and rose into theair. “Hey, I’m two feet tall. Who’d set a trap for a wee flying girl?”
She began to whirr off into the weeds.
The Justicar gave a little frown and called out, “Becareful!”
“All right! All right!”
“C
ome back every fifteen minutes so I can see you’re alive.”
The girl looked back in annoyance. “No problem!”
“Right.” Jus loosened his sword in its sheath. “And scream ifyou see anything!”
“I got it.” Escalla hovered, her fists planted on her hips.“You know, I already have a mother.”
“Does she know you dress like that?”
“Get bent!” The faerie dusted off her eye-opening littleoutfit. “Quit fussing about my safety. There’s nothing I can’t handle. Hey,remember”-the girl jabbed at herself confidently with one thumb-“no one touchesthe faerie!”
With that, Escalla fluttered off into the grass, leaving nothing behind her but a spicy scent of roses drifting in the breeze.
14
The long march proceeded hour after careful hour in an almostabsolute silence. Almost absolute, for Polk the teamster had ideas of his own on how marches ought to be conducted. He strolled beside each party member for a while, burdening them with one of his monologues. Sir Olthwaite was affable. The two priests were cold. The sorcerer and archer were just suspicious enough to hedge their answers carefully. Polk fixed upon the Justicar as his firmest friend and his personal education project. Somehow, the teamster always managed to match Jus’ pace, even though Polk had laden himself with enoughadventuring equipment to last a thirty years’ war.
Polk’s services as a guide were thankfully unnecessary. On agrassy plain, the volcanic cone of White Plume Mountain was absurdly easy to spot. The continuous feathers of white smoke and steam shooting high into the clouds helped make the place even more conspicuous. The Justicar kept his party hugging the low ground while he alone crept across the low hummock lines and crests, hunting for the slightest sign that they had been discovered. Nothing larger than a plague fly stirred, and no tracks passed beneath his gaze.
Caution turned the Justicar’s every sense into a perfecttool. Lying between the seed grasses atop a narrow rise of ground, he breathed the air and revelled in the simple fact of being alive. They were on the trail with work to be done. Even here in the blighted lands, the wintry sun shone warm. He reached up to pat at Cinders’ fur, hearing the thump-thump-thump ofthe hell hounds tail as they took the time to simply rest and listen to the breeze.