forlorn. The Demonweb seemed alone with its fog, ghosts, and eerie winds.
Until a movement flickered on the path.
He came fast, running with a tireless stride-feral and horrible. A rusted eagle helm kept its beak open in an eternal scream. Dead eyes searched ceaselessly for hints of prey.
The scent of burned flesh made the creature slow. Recca's sword swept out. The black blood inside his blade gleamed and seethed. Sidestepping the dead scorpions, Recca crept to the junction, his skull turning to look carefully up and down the way.
A shattered door into nothingness hung open before him. Burn marks, charred troll bodies, smoke, and stink leaked onto the path. Sphinx footprints and a single set of boot marks led off along the path. Recca sniffed the air and looked at the room behind the door.
He dived through the door in a somersault, arcing high into the air, blade blurring as he spun. He landed with his blade on guard but shifted rapidly. He ran his blade through three troll corpses, viciously twisting the blade. No blood spurted. The Justicar was not hiding beneath a cunning shroud of charred dead flesh. The monster turned, dead eyes gleaming. Moving with supreme caution, Recca walked back through the open door.
The blow, when it came, almost cut him in two. Recca twisted with serpentine speed, blocking with his sword, and the white blade only managed to hack halfway through his waist. Recca tore free, spilling onto the path, his flesh burning and smoking where Benelux had cut.
The Justicar stood beside the door. He had hung beneath the pavement, suspended above the howling fog, his hands hidden by a scrap of troll hide as Recca passed overhead. Now he strode toward the staggering monster, his blade snapping back, ready to thrust. Recca's wound smoldered, and this time the Justicar saw what happened. Green blood pumped into the open wound, flashed, and sealed the dead flesh shut. An instant later, the wound was gone.
The Justicar assessed Recca's tools. He shifted fighting stance, saw the move countered, shifted his weight, and saw the responding twitch of stance. Recca was active, responsive. Alive. The Justicar watched him over the point of his own blade.
'You're in there, Recca…'
Escalla and the others were still waiting for Recca to reach the perfect position. The Justicar changed fighting stance, choosing movements learned in a hundred fights, skills picked up far, far away from Recca and his schooling. He watched the animated corpse respond. The Justicar remembered being awed, shamed, and in worship of this man, remembered the scorn the elf had poured over his human student.
If he were jealous, why had Recca taught him if he knew the student would someday equal the master? Perhaps because the student was never expected to match Recca in skill? Had Recca seen him as a threat rather than a triumph?
The Justicar moved slowly and carefully, circling the undead master. Recca moved away slowly, always keeping just out of range. He danced with the same old skill and speed, using the moves he had been so unspeakably proud of.
They were too close for Escalla to risk a spell, and Henry and Enid knew better than to try to fight Recca hand-to-hand. Coaxing Recca into position, the Justicar adjusted his blade.
'The tanar'ri tore your heart out, but I killed it.' The big ranger was dark with anger. 'Jealousy, Recca?'
The corpse hissed like a cobra, fangs wide. The Justicar could feel the hate. It was a weakness. Recca fought for pride. Pride was a weakness. Justice was balanced and controlled. The Justicar could beat this thing, this swordmaster. He felt the certainty of it as if it were cast in bronze.
The Justicar let his point drift a mere tenth of an inch and growled at his enemy. 'You lost, Recca. You lost because you never had a
He had given Recca an opening. Recca screamed and cut. The corpse's attack came exactly as Jus knew it would-timed and planned. This time Jus took the blow on the flat of his blade, doubling Benelux like a quarterstaff. The blades met, and the Justicar punched with his hilt, the blow shattering Recca's jaw and sending the cadaver sprawling back along the path.
The broken jaw clicked and healed as Recca flipped onto his feet and came at the Justicar behind a whirling web of steel.
They fought hard and fast, the swords smashing sparks from one another in a maddened dance. An instant after the swords met and crashed, Recca tumbled and leaped over the Justicar to attack from behind. He landed, sword poised, the Justicar only half way through a turn, and then a blast of frost crashed into him from the side. The magic dissipated, blocked by the aura of his magic sword.
'Hey, boney!' The troll's head stood on two shapely little legs, and a frost wand waved from one ear. 'Hey! Remember me?'
Recca wiped frost from his face. From around the corner, Henry appeared, taking aim with his crossbow. Recca flicked up his sword, caught the first two crossbow bolts on his blade, and had three more smash into his chest. The impact knocked Recca over the edge of the path, and he fell into the howling mist. Rushing to the brink, Escalla and Jus looked out to see Recca carried up into the fog storm before smashing into a pathway overhead and disappearing from view.
Escalla shed her hollowed-out troll's head and cursed. 'Damn it! You were doing it! You were getting on top of him! That was our best shot at snuffing him!'
'He'll find us again.' The Justicar flicked his blade clean. He felt heavy, tired, and burdened. 'Next time.'
'Hey, Jus?' Escalla clung to his knee and looked up in concern. 'Hey, come on! It's just a monster with a sword. We can outdo him!'
The Justicar sheathed Benelux. Recca was alive and revealing the hatred Jus had always pretended wasn't there. Escalla held Jus's hand and looked into his face.
'We did better this time.'
'He's brilliant.' The Justicar felt Recca's hate still lingering in the air. 'He's as good as he always was.'
'Yeah, but you're better.'
Suddenly Jus could see it. He could feel the change between himself and Recca.
'Recca is too proud to change.' The big ranger turned to look up into the mist. 'Yes. For three hundred years, he was swordmaster and a chief of the Grass Runners. He wants his victory to prove his perfection.'
Jus glanced at the pathway overhead, then turned away, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. His other hand took Escalla's, and they walked back to their friends.
Henry spared a hard glance for the overhead fog, then peered briefly into the troll-littered room as he passed. He gave a sudden frown and held up one hand.
'Justicar, sir? Look at this!'
A neat white folder lay in the middle of the ash. The group stared at it in puzzlement. Cinders gave a sniff, paused, sniffed again, then his grin brightened.
'Girl?' Escalla sniffed, almost choking on smoke and carbonized troll. 'What? Like a little girl?'
'There speaks the connoisseur.' Escalla crept toward the folder then stroked her lich staff. It grew to the size of a broomstick. 'All right, people! Let a professional handle this! Heads down!'
Enid hid outside the door. 'Escalla? Do you really think you should touch it?'
'Sure we should! Hey! This is my professional opinion!' The faerie displayed her tiny skirt. 'So just duck and let me do my job!'
Everyone dived for cover as Escalla flipped the folder open with her staff. No spells discharged. No poisoned needles shot out. No trap doors opened or monsters appeared. Emerging cautiously from cover, the party gathered to find Escalla holding the folder and shaking it in disappointment, as though hoping some gold and jewels might fall out.
'Hey! I think it's a map!' She tossed the folder at Jus. 'All right! I solved the dungeon. Here! Find me Lolth, or I'll let Cinders lick you!'
Escalla leaned on the hell hound and whispered, 'Don't knock it till you've tried it.' She leaped onto Jus's back. 'Well, am I hot or am I not?'
