Descent into the Depths of the Earth

No one answered. These were the same tracks as those in Sour Patch-troglodyte footprints flanking a horde of human tracks. The line of marchheaded straight toward a gap in the ruined walls of the town.

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 inone go.” The Sergeant gestured to the dark. “Must have burned about two hundredfolk 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 hishands. “All over Keoland it’s the same. Ain’t seen anything like it since thegiants.”

“Giants?”

“Three, maybe four years ago. Giants raided the wholekingdom. Killed hundreds.” Walking along beside the trail left by the Takers,the sergeant beckoned Escalla, the Justicar, and Polk to follow. “The forestmarch is in ruins. We must have lost-what? — two thousand people in the last twomonths.”

Polk ceased crunching on his apple and goggled. “Twothousand people! Son, you’ve got a problem!”

Escalla drolly raised one alabaster brow. “Thanks man. Theymay 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, maybetwelve. 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. “Yousaid shot. Not hit by a javelin?”

The sergeant shrugged. “Could have been a javelin. No weaponleft in the wound.”

“But you said shot!” A soldier’s instincts were not tobe ignored. Jus knelt down over the trampled patch of earth and leaves. “Was hefound 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 carefullyblew dirt from the business end of the shaft. “See? There’s a metal shank in theshaft 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 wadedover tall cabbage stalks and broccoli. “We’ve seen it before. Do you know howthey 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 allthe 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 laughingmatter. 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 couldwhisper in quiet to Jus and Cinders. “Evil, live underground, slave takers,spider obsessed… Females are more powerful than males. Oh, and the femaleshave 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 spellsand 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’reall in clover.” Escalla sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “No one’s tiedthe 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 pleasedwith himself. Cinders smelled them-yes! Elfie-pixie-faerie smell. Smelled atSour Patch, first time!

“Yep. Got me there.” Escalla nodded acceptance and patted thedog. “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 someoneabout 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 andlooked 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 alook of sly, brilliant joy. “Yeah!”

Sidling past Polk, the girl ended up beside the sergeant.

“Sarge? Saaay, this king of yours…” Escalla tapped thefingers of her hands together, suddenly the heart and soul of avarice. “If wewere to free these poor lost citizens of yours and maybe detonate whoever’sbehind 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 wavedher hands. “An openhanded expression of esteem.