White Plume Mountain

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!”

“Come 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.

Down in the hollow behind them, the party had taken yet another rest. Unable to endure the sheer heat caused by walking in armor, the Bleredd priest had finally stripped off his arm and leg harness and loaded them upon his back. Unnecessary equipment had begun to disappear. After only half a day, the pace was beginning to beat them. Only the ever-resplendent paladin and the garrison archer, a silent professional, seemed able to keep up with the march.

Escalla had only checked in twice. However, it was now time for lunch, and even the thought of food had failed to make the faerie appear.

The little wretch still had a faerie cake hidden in Jus’backpack. Surely her sweet tooth would have called her back for a snack before now. Sitting up, the Justicar slowly turned to scan the grass, his face frozen in a frown.

“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