White Plume Mountain

“Cinders, do it!”

The hell hound blasted flames down the open drain, and a screech of pain revealed that the thieves had been waiting in ambush for their pursuers. The Justicar immediately jumped down through the hole, his sword and backpack trailing behind him. He landed in a wet tunnel still lit by sizzling fires.

“Cinders?”

Two men running-this way!

The hell hound could hear them, smell them, even see their heat. The Justicar threw a spell, surrounding himself with clean, white, magic light and then jogged down the sewer tunnels in pursuit.

A thoroughly annoyed Escalla passed overhead. Snarling, the faerie sped down the tunnel and threw a charm at a retreating shape, only to see the magic ricochet from her target and spatter uselessly across the walls. She braked madly to take a sudden ninety-degree turn and caught sight of her quarry silhouetted in the tunnel a dozen yards ahead.

One dark figure whirled, lifted a hand surrounded by a crackle of light, and shot a blast of lightning straight at the pixie’s eyes.Already lunging back around the corner, Escalla gave a squawk of fright as the lightning bolt missed her by a wing’s breadth, struck the tunnel wall, andbounded back the exact way it had come. The whole sewer lit up with a brilliant blue flash, stones crashing from the walls and ceiling as wet mortar blew apart in a flash of superheated steam.

Still moving at a lumbering run, the Justicar passed Escalla and charged around the corner before the tunnel could cave in. The faerie followed dizzily in his wake, ploughing through a haze of dust to see the human looming like a demon above two blackened, fallen men. He whipped his sword back for a killing thrust, the black blade gleaming and sulphur steam hissing from the hell hounds head cresting his helm.

One of the two men was already quite dead, but the other screamed in terror and tried to cram himself away from the quivering blade.

“No! No! No!” The injured thief tried to hide himself behindhis arms. “Don’t take my soul!”

Backlit by his light spell, the vast, sinister shape of the Justicar loomed above his victims like a shadow of doom.

“Thieves…” He let the word drip like bile from hismouth. “Unworthy souls.”

“Not the blade! Not the blade!” Scorched and blastedby the ricocheting spell, the thief shrank backward over the smoking body of his companion, shrieking with mindless fright. “We can betray the last of the guildto you! We’ll turn! We’ll follow the White Lady!” The thief reversed into a pileof stones, gibbering in terror as the black blade hovered an inch from his throat. “All the guilds will be yours!”

Letting his voice growl in threat, the Justicar took his best possible chance to wrench information from the thief. “I want theblack-and-white-faced man.”

The thief quailed and tried to press his shoulder back through the fallen stones.

“I… There is no such man!”

“The black-and-white-faced man.” The Justicar moved his swordfractionally backward, his muscles bunching as though about to drive his sword into his prey. “Where is he?”

Suddenly the thief ripped a short sword from his belt. With a screech of fear, he turned, rammed the blade over his own heart, and leaped upon it Recoiling away from the expected attack, the Justicar could only stare at the dead thief in a daze.

There was a long, pained silence as faerie and human both gazed blankly down at the corpse. Finally, the Justicar’s sword tip clinked asit sank and struck the floor. The noise echoing down the tunnel made the two companions stir.

The Justicar kept his eyes riveted on the body and slowly shook his head. “What the hell was that about?”

Appalled, Escalla kept herself well away from the cadaver.

“That guy was terrified. He killed himself to save his soul.”The faerie blinked, then looked at the Justicar’s black sword. “Is thereanything about that sword we both should know?”

“It’s enchanted enough to be damned useful, and I keep itvery, very sharp.” The Justicar lifted one hand and his illuminationspell shone more brightly. “It sounds like a soul-eating sword is being used inTrigol. I am not pleased.”

“And by the competing thieves’ guild from the sound of it.”Escalla wiped her hands, and showed not the slightest inclination to search the corpses for loose change. “That makes for a guild war with a difference.”

A soul-eater. In all the catalog of foul deeds, there were few things the Justicar could measure as more cowardly. It sucked out the very essence of a victim’s soul-a vampire that existed only by sending othercreatures to oblivion. It was lethal, and it was loose inside Trigol’sunderworld.

Shaking his head, the Justicar bent over the corpses. He helped Cinders lower his nose and sniff for magic, then pulled a golden ring free from a dead man’s hand.

“Here you go. Magic ring.” The Justicar tossed it to thefaerie. “Resistance against charm spells, I imagine. That’s why your spellmisfired.”

Escalla blinked, a little taken aback by the man’sgenerosity. She slipped the ring over her finger and saw it flash and mold itself to her size.

“Resist charm!” It was a rather useful tool. “Don’t you wantone?”

“Already got one.” The Justicar pulled off one of his glovesto show a plain bone ring upon one finger. “Had it all along.”

Escalla stared at the ring, looked at the man, and felt herself fluffing up in indignation.

“On the barge! You lying twonk! You never saw faerie dust inyour damned life!”

“Nope.” The human prodded his companion on the rump. “Damnedstupid story. Don’t know why you fell for it.”

The sewer tunnel leading back to the tavern had largely collapsed-and no bad thing considering the repair bill they probably owed forthe scorched room. The Justicar levered a few stones out of his way and squinted down the tunnel that lead off to who-knew-where.

“That thief was terrified. He wouldn’t have lied in the faceof that sword.”

Escalla raised one brow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that whoever your two-toned man is, the thieves hadnever heard of him.” The ranger slowly sheathed his blade. “So it’s not him thatowns the soul-eating sword. But if he wants power, then he’s going to want tocontrol it.”

The faerie could hardly conceal her delight at being expected to chase a soul-eating sword.

“Ooh, I can just feel those gears turning inside your big,misshapen skull. You want to locate a soul-eating sword then hang around in hiding until our guy comes to steal it.” Escalla gazed drolly over at theJusticar. “Let us just come to terms with the fact that this is not a workableplan.”

“It’s a lead.”

“Get out of the sewer, Jus, or I’ll bite you.”

Her wings whirring, the faerie led the way off down the sewer toward a manhole far beyond. Growling in annoyance, the Justicar took a last glance at the dead thieves and then followed his companion up into the dawn.

She awaited the dawn upon the dockside roofs, her white wingsfolded to cloak her in their warmth. Tall and magnificent, Saala the erinyes let the wind stir through her long auburn hair and let her mind drift upon the pleasures of the day.

Slowly and steadily, like a wasp larva gnawing on its host, the erinyes had made herself a home. The Black Claw Thieves’ Guild was nowutterly beneath her domination, and with the sword Blackrazor, they had liquidated all resistance in Trigol’s underworld. With the underworld held inher grasp, Saala could begin to make the city entirely her own. She looked out across the rooftops as they were lit by a golden dawn and gave a quiet, predatory smile.

Trigol held two treasures, two keys that could be used to unlock a civil war. Here in the early morning by the river, the erinyes planned to seize those keys and let the violence flow.

Beside her, a dozen of the Black Claw thieves lay watching in the shadows. The guild leader had been placed utterly under Saala’s magicaldomination. It took concentration, but the thief now acted as Saala’s puppet,behaving