An ancient dolmen made an arch overhead-an arch tall enoughto shelter a giant. Jus straightened up, Cinders glistening like new iron in the starlight. He listened for sounds, then strode into the ruins, surrounded by the moan of wind traveling through the weeds.
As Polk crunched on his apple, a voice suddenly echoed from the dark.
“Hold!”
The voice was very excited and very, very young. Jus, Polk, and Escalla turned.
A young man slithered down from the earthen ramparts, holding a crossbow in his hands. Chain mail rattled, and a long sword on the boy’s beltthreatened to spill him head over heels. He stumbled in his eagerness to keep his captives covered as he yelled out into the dark.
“Sergeant! Sergeant! I’ve found them! I’ve got the Takers!”
Escalla instantly turned invisible. Jus held his peace until three more men arrived in a clank and clatter of chain mail armor.
One of the newcomers took one look at the youth and bellowed in rage, “Private Henry! Do these individuals look in the remotest wayreptilian?”
“N-no, Sarge, but-”
“Do they perhaps have claws or scales of a lizardlikepersuasion of which I am unaware?”
“Uh-” The recruit waved a hand in vindication. “But Sarge!See! The big one’s wearing black!”
“Private Henry, you are a pustulous canker on the hallowedbutt of the border patrol!”
Annoyed by his recruit as only an old soldier could be, the sergeant looked Jus and Polk carefully up and down. He kept his voice loud and his hands resting near his weapons.
“Gendemen! Geltane is a strange place to be taking a strollin the dark.”
The Justicar made a bass growl in agreement, then nodded slowly in the dark. “I’m on a private commission, hunting a murderer.” Juslooked about at the ruined town. “Someone raided the refugee camp of Sour Patch.The whole adult population’s gone.”
With a bitter huff of breath, the sergeant relaxed. His martial fury gone, he revealed himself to be a very tired soldier. The man shook his head and pointed across the ruined town.
“Well, I guess they must have come through here. Gods knowhow. It’s at least twenty miles from here, but someone did see movement in theruins just before dawn.” The man turned and led the way along through the ruins.“Found a trail. Looks like a couple of hundred people. The trail just seems tostart right about here, and we lose it about half a mile farther on.”
“Lose it how?”
The sergeant gave the helpless shrug of an angry, frustrated man. “You got me beat. Come and see.” The man clicked his fingers. “PrivateHenry, you light one field lantern in the approved fashion! Now, boy!”
It took Private Henry a good three minutes to manage the mysteries of his tinderbox. As he worked furiously away in a corner, a little patch of svelte perfection popped into existence beside Jus and produced a brilliantly glowing stone upon a string.
“Hey, J-man! Hey, guys!” Escalla waved to the soldiers. “Inthe interests of the preservation of social skills, I’m Escalla, the one withthe big nose is Polk, and the man with the dog skin is your pal and mine, the Justicar!” Escalla produced her packets of sweets and began to hand out allaround. “Here you go. Good for the soul. Private Henry? Good tinderbox, man! Youreally know how to strike those sparks!” Stared at by astounded soldiers,Escalla slapped her hands and rubbed them together. “So what have we got?”
The Justicar laid a level glance upon Escalla and said, “Mypartner, Escalla.” Jus bent down, producing his own charmed light stone-a giftfrom Escalla many weeks ago. “Did anyone see who made these tracks?”
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.