“Where is she? What do you smell, old hound?”
Magic. Evil. The hell hound lifted up its ears. Nofaerie girl.
Jus sighed, sensing trouble in the wind, and took a swig of warm beer from his canteen. Checking his sword, he stood up and began to run swiftly ahead to sort out his partner’s problems.
The clank of metal sounded from behind him and Cinders instantly gave a growl. The Justicar whirled, his hand on his sword and ready for a lightning-fast draw.
Frozen by the threat of the sword, Sir Olthwaite the paladin stood a few yards away.
Paladins were supposedly the ultimate embodiment of good, the white knights whose swords wielded justice. In the Justicar’s experience, suchmen had far more interest in law than in actual justice. The Justicar had killed more than one lawman for just such cause, and he had few compunctions about adding another to his list. In Cinders’ case, the hell hound simply resentedhaving been made into a hearth rug.
With his hand still at his sword, the Justicar retained his fighting stance. Drifting through the wind around him came the ghostly sound of Cinders’ growl.
“You move quietly.”
“The breeze is blowing against you, but one can hardly playat being sneak thieves when dressed in steel.” The paladin took a sniff at hisperfumed kerchief as though offended by the scent of hell hound. “You have neverasked my name. In some circles that might be considered rude. I am Sir Olthwaite, Knight Commander of the Dragon Star.”
“I know. You’re from Saint Cuthbert’s temple.”
Sir Olthwaite made a military bow. “Indeed! And you, sir, doyou have a name?”
“I do.”
If Olthwaite wanted anything more, the man could go get it from the faerie. Jus turned aside, indicating that the conversation was at an end, yet still the paladin persevered.
Sir Olthwaite took a breath of fresh air and said, “I met aman who saw you fighting in the market riots.” The paladin smoothed hismoustache as though pleased at sharing such knowledge. “You know a littlepriestly magic, it would seem.”
“I get the job done.” The Justicar took a last hard look intothe sky, saw none of Iuz’s scouts, and let his hand relax slightly on his sword.“My skills are my business. Stay here.”
“Where are you going, sir? Surely this is a rest break.”
“The faerie’s missing. I’m going to find her.”
Jus turned to go, taking a pace back out of sword reach before beginning to walk. Behind him, Sir Olthwaite moved forward in a clank of steel.
“You might need another sword. I shall accompany you.”
Down in the hollow, the two priests had noticed the conversation above. Suspicious of conspiracies, they now climbed doggedly up the hillock to confront the two warriors.
“Where are you going?” The Geshtai priestess puffed hard fromher climb. As priestess to a river god, she wore an armor of scales that seemed to get heavier and heavier with every step. “What have you both been hiding?”
Sir Olthwaite gave the priestess a droll glance and said, “Wehide nothing, madam. We merely discuss the whereabouts of the faerie.”
Bleredd’s priest leaned on his warhammer and narrowed hiseyes. He was clearly considering the likelihood that the faerie had flown to White Plume Mountain, stolen the lost weapons, and absconded with the goods. Simple common sense finally won over suspicion. A two-foot-tall faerie could hardly be expected to fly off with a magic hammer and a two-yard-long fishing spear.
“Why is she missing?” Bleredd’s priest looked subtly left andright as though trying to divine whether the faerie was spying on his every move. “Why isn’t she here?”
Ignoring paladins and priests, the Justicar simply turned to go. “She flew on ahead. I’m going to collect her.”
“We will accompany you”-the Bleredd priest swung his hammerin his hands-“to make sure that you receive all the support you need.”
Watching silently and coldly from a distance, the archer and sorcerer elected to join the group. Polk ambled after them, one of his interminable monologues echoing across the deserted wastes. Ignoring his volunteer help, the Justicar turned his back upon the party and set a hard pace as he jogged toward the mountain.
The landscape still held small signs of life. Dull blooms hung in the grass, and strange skeletal black bees visited the blossoms. The markings on the insects’ backs looked disturbingly like human skulls. The droneof insect wings only made the land seem more desolate with their hollow counterpoint to the endless rustle of the grass.
There were few signs of Escalla’s passing. Cinders sniffedthe faintest of magic trails left by her whirring wings, but even this soon became lost as a chill, stinking breeze stirred through the grass. Finally slowing to a walk, Jus gazed across the emptiness and cursed the girl for risking her little pink hide.
The landscape seemed totally empty. It asked the question: Where would an idiotic busybody go to find trouble in the middle of an open plain?
The Justicar came to a halt, stared off into the grass, and said, “Polk, do you see anything interesting?”
“Interesting? Son, none of it’s interesting.” The little joghad winded the man-much to Jus’ satisfaction. Polk glared at the ranger asthough a treasured son had just stung him. “You’re going about all this wrong,son. The hired help is dumping their armor, and there’s no pack mule. How canyou carry your loot away from a dungeon without a pack mule?” The teamster waveda chunk of bread in the air. “And you packed iron rations. How are we supposedto feast around the campfire on dry bread and jerky? The damned pixie ate the only pot of jam I had.”
Jam… feeling an intuition filtering through hisskull, the Justicar stared off across the seed grass. Here and there, one of the eerie bees drifted through the weeds as it took a last few loads of pollen home. Watching a bee slowly climb past his nose, Jus hunted for a hillock, found one, and raced to the crest so that he could stare across the plain.
Trees were scattered here and there, some alone and some in copses. He spied a clump of trees some way off their path and watched a bee go weaving off toward the thicket.
“Honey. The little git went looking for honey.”
Sweet! Cinders pricked up his ears. Honey good!
Expecting that the girl had been stung to death or possibly eaten herself sick, Jus signaled the rest of the party. Crouching low, he led the way over to a thicket of dry trees. As he neared the small copse he could hear a female voice amidst a swirl and hum of bees.
Under the trees, all was not well in Escalla’s world. Trappedin a near-invisible sticky web, she swung beneath a pole borne by two shambling, rotting skeletons. More of the reeking monstrosities loped to either side, led by a tall, cadaverous figure with a face like jagged bone.
Determinedly cheerful, Escalla’s voice bubbled brightly tofall upon seemingly deaf ears. “Did I say three wishes?” The faerie kepther voice at the high end of the bright and cheerful scale. “Hey, you guys setme free, and I’ll grant you four wishes!”
With no immediate response, Escalla wriggled about to try to draw the attention of a walking corpse.
“All right, so you don’t like wishes. Hey, I’m one-thirdleprechaun on my mother’s side! Monsters like treasure, right? Would you believeI can lead you to a magic pot of gold?”
Writhing with maggots and worms, the monsters threw Escalla to the ground. She was inside some kind of campsite. Cadaverous horses made of rotten flesh stood about a tent. Gagging as one of her captors leaned too close, Escalla tried to wiggle back from the creature’s grasp.
It was time for a different approach.
“All right, you guys are undead. I can respect that! Beatingthe odds! Unconquered by death! Force of will, now that’s what beingundead says to me! And force of will means you’ve gotta have self-respect.That’s what I like about you guys-you’re straight, you’re forceful, you’re trueblue.”