her knuckles and looked up with the same eager grin she always brought to fights where she could beat up someone bigger. Her face fell into shadow as Zetetic’s sandaled foot flew down toward her and Relic. Infidel whirled around, kicking, catching Relic in the gut and launching him out of the stomp-zone. She crouched to jump away but was too late. The giant foot slammed into her with a shudder that shook the whole mountain.
Zetetic jumped, knocking over trees, flying down the slope a good fifty yards before crashing back to earth, waving his arms to maintain his balance on the uneven terrain. Off in the distance, perhaps a half-mile away, I caught a glimpse of Aurora and her pack tumbling head over heels, on the verge of vanishing once more into the canopy. Then, in a sudden flash of light, her downward arc was intercepted by the shining silver form of Lord Tower, catching the ogress in his outstretched arms. Her pack tore loose at the impact, sending a spray of camping gear out over the treetops.
As difficult as it was to tear my eyes from this spectacle, I turned back to Infidel, who was splayed out in the center of a giant footprint. With a grunt, she popped her face up from the earth. She spat out a mouthful of black jungle dirt as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
Satisfied she wasn’t hurt, I turned my attention back toward the Deceiver. He had leapt again. His robes were tattered below his knees, shredded by the ancient trees he pushed aside like tall brush. Long streamers of blood-tangle vines trailed behind him as he fled down the mountain.
Lord Tower had circled around and now shot like an arrow toward the Deceiver’s chin, the Gloryhammer blazing like a second sun in his outstretched arm. Aurora hugged his chest for dear life, in a death-grip that probably would have crushed anyone not encased in enchanted armor. Yet, before the knight could strike, Zetetic swung out with his tree-sized right arm and back-handed the knight in mid-air, sending him shooting back toward the ocean, looking like a spiraling comet as Aurora left a trail of bright snow in their wake.
Infidel rose back to her feet just in time to see Father Ver fly past, his hands locked onto the hide of a large tiger that effortlessly carried the old man. I followed as they caromed down the mountainside, leaping from rock to log, covering the quarter-mile to the giant’s ankles in a span of seconds. The Truthspeaker cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted, “You will go no further!”
The Deceiver smirked as he spun away from the Truthspeaker’s voice. His smirk changed to a frown, however, as his feet remained firmly planted on the ground. He raised his hands, feeling the air before him as if it were an invisible wall.
“You are no giant! You are a vile fabricator who will turn and face me at your true size!”
Zetetic’s face contorted as his limbs jerked. “Graaah!” he cried out as he began to shrink, swinging his arms before him as if swatting at unseen bees. “Graaah! Naayaaah!”
With each second that passed he shed size, dropping to fifty feet, twenty, ten, and then he was only a man again, face to face with a panting tiger and a very angry cleric.
Zetetic held up his hands and gave a sheepish grin. “You can’t blame a fellow for trying.”
Father Ver had a different opinion, which he expressed by leaping off the tiger and planting his bony fist squarely in the center of the Deceiver’s mouth. Zetetic spun from the blow, falling to his hands and knees.
He spat out blood and growled, “You bast-”
Father Ver silenced him by kicking him in the throat. The Deceiver fell to his back, his arms flopped out to his sides. Father Ver dropped with his knees, straddling the Deceiver’s chest as he pummeled the man’s face.
“Blasphemer!” Father Ver screamed. “Accursed malignancy! May your filthy name be erased from the Book!”
Zetetic raised his hands to block the blows, but the priest simply knocked them aside and continued to rain down punishment. Menagerie changed from tiger back to human and leaned against a fallen tree, his arms crossed as he watched the whirl of violence. Reeker and No-Face reached the area a moment later, saying nothing as they stared at the beating unfolding before them.
The Deceiver’s arms fell limp. He’d never gotten in a single blow. Father Ver’s fists trailed blood as he cut his knuckles pounding his victim’s teeth. The Deceiver’s pale face began to resemble a scary clown, as bright red blood painted his cheeks with a lopsided grin.
Ivory Blade and the Whisper suddenly bounded into the triangle formed by the Goons. Blade grabbed the Truthspeaker by the shoulders and tried to pull him off the fallen man.
“You’re going to kill him!” he growled, as he tugged at the cleric’s robes. With the Whisper’s help he pulled the elderly man back to his feet. Blade grabbed Father Ver by the collar and said, “Calm yourself. You don’t need to sink to his level.”
“You will take your freakish hands off me,” Father Ver said, his voice a low hiss.
Blade snapped both hands into the air, his fingers spread in a gesture of surrender.
“Now you will go away!”
Blade spun on his heels and bounded off up the trail, running at breakneck speed, quickly disappearing among the trees. The Whisper looked after her fleeing lover for a few seconds, slack-jawed with surprise, before she shot off in pursuit.
Father Ver looked back down on his bloodied victim. Blood bubbled from the Deceiver’s nostrils as his breath came out in gurgles. The Truthspeaker knelt beside his victim. Zetetic flinched as his hand approached. The Truthspeaker grabbed the Deceiver’s chin and turned his barely focused gaze to meet his own, then asked, “Where is it?”
Zetetic looked back with sad puppy eyes.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Father Ver said. “You wouldn’t have dared this without the sketchbook. You will hand it over.”
Zetetic’s hands reached into the folds of his red robes and producing a small leather-bound notebook, barely six inches tall. The cover had no words on it, but it was scuffed and scratched, the parchment pages within looking dog-eared and folded over. Father Ver snatched the book away.
“Your wicked imagination exceeds my ability to think of prohibitions,” said Father Ver. “Let us keep this simple. I gave my word to the king that I will not kill you. I’ve made no vow that would prohibit me from cutting out your blasphemous tongue. Attempt to escape again and I swear you will never utter another lie.”
The Deceiver glared at Father Ver with a mix of hatred and terror, then nodded slowly, indicating he understood. Father Ver let go of the man’s chin and wiped his gore-drenched hands on his victim’s red robes, looking disgusted. He glanced toward the sky as Lord Tower drifted down toward them. Aurora was still clamped onto his chest; her hair had come undone from its top knot and lay against her scalp in a chaotic tangle.
She looked a bit wobbly as Tower set her on the ground.
“You believed his lie, ogress,” grumbled Father Ver, without looking at her. “Your pagan faith makes you an easy target for his falsehoods. If he speaks to you again, feel free to break his jaw.”
Before Aurora could reply, Lord Tower looked down at the semi-conscious Deceiver and said, “Why would he try something like this? Even if he’d reached the sea, we could have stopped him at any time.”
“Not without this,” said Father Ver, holding up the small book.
Tower reached both hands to his hip, popping open a compartment in his armor exactly the right size to hold the book. He stared silently at the emptiness within. “By the sacred quill,” he mumbled. “How did…? When could he…?”
“The Deceiver fails to respect reality itself,” Father Ver said. “It would have been a simple matter for him to become a master pickpocket.” The priest cast a glance toward Reeker. “You were supposed to keep this from happening.”
Reeker shrugged. “He caught me by surprise.”
“Of course it was a surprise!” Father Ver shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “Did you think he would be considerate enough to send you a detailed letter explaining his plan? Are all half-seeds half-wits as well?”
Reeker’s eyes flashed with anger as he drew back his shoulders and pressed his lips into a pucker. Menagerie nodded toward No-Face. The giant man’s hand clamped over the skunk-man’s mouth.
Menagerie said, “This is twice I’ve had to apologize for my colleague’s behavior. I assure you, there will not be a third incident. For now, he’s going to go help gather up what gear we can find from Aurora’s pack. He won’t grumble while he’s doing it. Right?”
No-Face lowered his hand. Reeker swallowed his pride and whatever else he might have been holding in his mouth, then said, “Sure, boss.” Then, to Father Ver, “Won’t happen again.”
Lord Tower scanned the treetops, paying no attention to Infidel and Relic as they joined the rest of the
