Crouching as he ran, the Justicar sped through the shadows,making enough noise to wake the dead. Dried blackberry brambles cracked as he crashed through the dark underbrush. For the moment, speed came first and foremost.
His enemies would be unable to hear anything above their own clumsy progress through the brush. By the time they thought to stand still and listen, the Justicar had found a hollow covered over with bracken fronds and had gone to ground. Utterly invisible, he lay with his sword gripped in his left gauntlet, his sharp senses feeling every stir and movement in the night.
A second set of senses worked alongside his own. The Justicar lifted his head and slowly scanned the darkness. “Cinders? Talk to me.”
Sentience rippled through the black pelt hanging across the Justicar’s shoulders. Tall canine ears twitched, and the black fur seemed totingle as the creature scented approaching prey.
A whisper sounded in the Justicar’s mind. Left.
“Human?”
Ogre and one man.
That would be the caravan’s “scout” with more of his ogreambush party. The Justicar’s hard gaze glared at the brambles, distastewrinkling his face as he planned punishment for the unworthy souls.
There would be another human, a man riding a horse with a golden tail-most probably the leader of the bandits. The Justicar tried topicture just where the man might be even as he heard the ogres crash toward him through the dry ferns on their way to the caravan.
Close!
The Justicar lay flat, his own senses tingling as the pelt’scanine ears swiveled to track the enemy that came blundering through the brush. They passed by the Justicar’s hiding place. He let them move past him, rose tothe ragged rhythm of their movements, then drove his sword through an ogre’sspine.
The dying creature screeched in agony, its death screams causing other ogres to stop and search wildly through the brush. The Justicar twisted his blade and ripped it free, whipping about to face a maddened charge.
Three ogres roared in blood-curdling fury as they lumbered through the ferns. One leaped high to clear a stand of blackberries, and the black sword met it in mid-flight with a heavy, deadly sound. The force of the blow doubled the massive creature in two. The Justicar ripped his blade free before the creature even hit the ground, leaving the huge corpse to crash beside him in a thunder of blood and broken steel.
The other two ogres lunged toward him with heavy clubs, attacking in a berserk, snarling rage. The Justicar sliced beneath a maddened swing and whipped his blade about, cracking his target’s shoulder blade beneaththe coat of scales. Roaring, he hammered his sword pommel hard against the fractured bone, but the ogre staggered free and let its cousin smash its club down at the Justicar’s skull.
This ogre moved far faster than the last. The Justicar parried and made a two-handed cut only to have the blow blocked. The ogre’s clubcracked against his armored ribs with a sharp, biting pain. He trapped the club with his elbow and punched the ogre in the face, only to curse as the creature ducked to take the blow atop its steel helm. The Justicar almost broke his knuckles, and the ogre roared in triumph as it dragged its weapon free.
His scarred jaw snarling, the Justicar turned and let the club whip past him, his sword blade shearing a bright curl of wood shavings from the haft. He hacked hard at the ogre’s forearm, throwing his weight into everyblow.
The black sword suddenly bit into a wrist thick as a young tree, and sparks showered from an immense steel bracelet on the ogre’s wrist.The monster wrenched its hand back, blood pouring down its arm. With one arm ablaze in agony, the brute attacked one-handed with a vicious sideways swing. It bellowed, obviously intending to smash its enemy’s head.
An instant later, its target disappeared. The Justicar dropped to one knee, let the club whip past his head, then hacked into the hamstrings of the ogre’s knee. The monster fell with its right leg severed justas the other ogre launched itself at the Justicar.
The man threw himself forward to crash into the huge creatures waist. He lifted with a huge explosion of strength. Flesh crashed into flesh with a noise like thunder. Screaming, the ogre spun head over heels and smashed into the ground. The Justicar turned and kicked the monster in its broken shoulder, making it tumble howling through the ferns. He reversed his blade and stabbed two-handed down into the creature’s open mouth. Black bloodflew up to spatter all across the blackberry grove.
An arrow flashed from the underbrush a dozen feet away, piercing the Justicar’s armor and ripping a vicious line of pain across hisflank. He whipped his head about to glare at the archer.
Above the Justicar’s face, the wolf’s red eyes gleamed. Hello.
The woods sheeted with light as a huge tongue of flame thundered from the pelt’s jaws. Fire engulfed the screaming archer, blinding himas his clothing ignited. The archer dropped his bow and clapped hands across his eyes as he staggered, shrieking through the brush.
The Justicar rose to his feet, hissing in pain as he touched the arrowhead jutting out from his cuirass. “Thanks, Cinders.”
No problem.
Cinders’ red eyes gleamed, and the hell hound pelt seemed toglow with canine satisfaction. The Justicar felt the line of the arrow that had cut across his ribs and ripped the shaft painfully free. He planted an open hand against the bleeding wound, let the magic flash, and healed the injury.
In the bushes nearby, the archer still screamed as he burned. Chain mail and riding boots identified him as the caravan’s scout. The Justicarwiped his sword clean of blood while above him, Cinders sniffed the scent of scorching meat upon the wind.
Burns nice! The hell hound sniffed hungrily for blood.Kill with sword?
“No. Let the bastard burn.”
The scout had been an inside man for this merry little bandit gang. He must have led caravan after caravan into pre-planned ambush sites, setting the victims up for the kill and then guiding the ogres into the attack.
Let the traitor die hard.
Red hell hound eyes gleamed above the Justicar’s helm as theman gazed across the corpses. The man’s face rippled with the reflected light ofthe fire as he turned his heavy frame and stalked back toward the camp.
The wagoners and merchants had heard the sounds of violence in the brush. Six crossbowmen stood with the fire at their backs, making fine targets as they stared into the deepening dark. The Justicar halted in the brambles, sinking to his knees as he probed the shadows with his gaze.
Evening had dimmed the sky beneath oceans of purple-rose. Little light now filtered through the dark trees, and the woods were growing black. The Justicar tried to see into the brush up ahead, but the light of the wagoners’ campfire had turned the place into a maze of dancing shadows.
Hidden in the underbrush, the Justicar and Cinders carefully tested the breeze.
“He’s in there.”
One creature. Evil. Not human. The hell hound’s ears layflat as he scented prey. Smell magic.
Some of the teamsters had dogs. The attackers had deliberately approached the camp from downwind to keep the animals from scenting them. This placed the last attacker upwind of Cinders and the Justicar. The big ranger rose and hefted his sword, feeling a light breeze winding through the brambles and into his face.
“Polk!”
“Is that you, son? Is that you?” The talkative teamster helda cudgel in his hand and sheltered behind the six crossbowmen. “I told them itwould be you! ‘Now that’s the sound of a man at work,’ I said!”
“Quiet!” The Justicar felt like a target standing on acarnival shooting range. “There’s one of them in front of you. Throw firebrandsinto the brambles and burn him out!”
A sudden blast of light speared from the nearby brush. The Justicar hurled himself aside and turned to take a fierce blast of heat across his back. The hell hound pelt jerked as flame licked across it, the fireproof fur shielding the Justicar from the blast. Flame licked along his left arm, and the Justicar fell sprawling in the smoking ferns.
Feet pelted toward him as the last bandit made good his retreat. As he came near, the Justicar erupted from the ground with a lightning-fast swing of his sword.
His opponent was swift. The sword blow that should have sheared him off at the knees instead whipped through empty air. The Justicar cursed and sprinted in pursuit, his right arm suddenly crawling with pain.
Something dodged into the dead trees. A flame blast thundered out from Cinders’ nostrils, instantly setting the brush afire. The flames litup the figure of the running bandit, and he turned just in time to block the Justicar’s black sword with his own glittering silver blade. The raw force ofthe blow threw the bandit back toward the camp, and he fell sprawling in the dirt.
Placing himself and his deadly sword between his enemy and escape, the Justicar’s heavy, savage figure stood backlit by the flames. Hisenemy made a feral hiss in the firelight. As the trees behind him burned, the creature’s demonic face shone mottled and skull-like in the gloom. The creaturewas scaly, inhumanly slim, and dripping with lordly disdain. Long needlelike fangs disfigured an already ugly face. It gazed in distaste upon the savage sight of the Justicar, and firelight flickered inside the creature’s eyes.
Shifting his blood-smeared blade, the Justicar gazed at his enemy as though slowly measuring it for its grave.
Cambion.
A half-demon, part man and part monster, cambions were an abomination. As the Justicar poised his blade, breathing slow and hard, the cambion gave a sudden scream and charged forward.
They traded blows-the silver sword moving fast as lightningto block the Justicar’s black blade. The two swords met again and again, theforce of the Justicar’s barrage driving his enemy down, and then the manviciously kicked his enemy in the knee. The creature cursed and grunted as the Justicar hacked his sword into its armored hide.
The thing’s flesh jarred like teak, almost denting theJusticar’s blade. Scarcely scratched, the creature twisted and stabbed its swordat the man’s head. Steel screamed as one cheek guard almost tore free from theJusticar’s helm. The big man roared and butted his head into the hellspawn face.As the creature staggered back, the black blade chopped a thin wound across its cheek. Scenting the kill, the Justicar brought his sword back around in a blow designed to shear the creature in two.
Screaming an arcane incantation, the cambion shot a force bolt from its palms that staggered the Justicar back an instant before his blade could strike.
With shocking speed the Justicar bulled into the attack. His sword blow came blindingly fast, flicking aside the cambion’s blade and sweepingin a blur to cleave toward its neck.
The cambion streaked aside, launching itself away from the terrifying black sword. It sped toward the wagon camp, racing past the teamsters and crossbowmen and heading away from the blazing woods.
Lumbering hard in pursuit, the Justicar bellowed in anger at the caravan guards. “Shoot, you damned fools!”
Whipping up its hand, the cambion cast a spell as the crossbowmen sighted and fired. Crossbow bolts ricocheted away from a half-seen disc of force. The barrage failed to touch the cambion-yet it stalled thecreature long enough for the Justicar to bring it back into the range of his blade. Whirling about, the cambion saved itself an instant before it could be sheared in two. The colossal force of the Justicar’s blow still drove thecreature back and chopped a gash deep into its side.
The two combatants hammered at each other while the caravan crews gathered to stare in shock. Sparks spattered across the dirt, steel screaming as the Justicar drove his enemy back. With a roar, the cambion parried, shrieked another incantation, and slapped its open palm against the Justicar’s blade. A savage crackle of lightning wreathed the sword, and theJusticar spilled backward, swearing in pain. His enemy tried to stab down with its own blade. The Justicar roared and kicked the creature in what should have been its crotch, but it merely made the thing stagger one pace back and skin its blade past the Justicar’s armored hide.
The creature rebounded off the fish oil wagon, hissed through its needle fangs, and took a firm grip upon its sword. With his own blade lying three paces away, the Justicar tensed in order to dive away from the inevitable blow.
Die!
The hell hound seemed to scream with laughter as it blasted out its third and final flame for the day. The cambion ducked underneath the firebolt, which smacked into the wagon, instantly catching the oil-stained barrels afire.
“Cinders!”
Fire! Burn! The hound seemed to dance with utter glee. Burn! Burn!
Flames climbed the wagon, wreathing the oil barrels in light. Framed against the fire, the cambion raised its hand and let the air crackle with the power of a magic spell. With a scream of triumph, the creature prepared to blast the Justicar into nonexistence.
Oil barrels suddenly burst open in the heat, and blazing fish oil gushed out to drown the cambion with flame. Blinded, the creature instinctively whipped about, giving the Justicar the instant he needed to snatch his blade and attack. The cambion tried to heave itself out of the black sword’spath. It lifted a hand to shield itself as the Justicar whipped his blade downward in a terrifying blur of speed.
The sword rang as it hacked into demonic flesh. A severed hand flew into the fire, the cambion screeching in pain as it clutched at the stump of its wrist. The mutilated monster staggered wildly aside, then quite suddenly sprinted off into the dark.
“Damn it!”
Shielding his face, the Justicar tried to pursue through the flames, only to fall back as more and more oil barrels exploded in the heat. Oxen reared and screamed as blazing oil burst amidst the trees, the whole forest suddenly catching flame.
His teeth set in a wide, unmoving grin, Cinders gave a gleeful wag of his tail. Good fire! Good fire! Burn! Burn! Burn!
“That’s great, Cinders. That’s about a thousand goldnobles worth of oil!”
Burn!
The Justicar irritably sheathed his sword and cursed. The bandit chieftain had escaped, and burning fish oil had set the entire forest ablaze. Swearing bitterly, the Justicar shoved his shoulder against one wagon and helped the teamsters roll it slowly away from the flames.
Oxen stampeded off into the night, and the scout’s horsebroke its tether to bolt off to gods-knew-where. Scorched and sweating teams of men managed to roll wagons out onto the soggy plain, losing their bedding and their tents to the rushing fires.
In the end, three wagons were a total loss. The Razor Wood wreathed the entire sky with flames, trees crisping and huge sheets of fire soaring up into the sky. Sitting on the grass a few hundred yards from the blaze, the Justicar could only curse and grumble as he used a fistful of weeds to scrub clean his blade.
Having managed to collect a brace of oxen, Polk the teamster came over to sit at his side. The teamster watched the forest burn, unable to hear the tittering glee of Cinders in his own mind. Taking a bite of barbecued oxen, he passed a lump of meat over to the Justicar and then uncorked a brandy jug.
“Sentient hell hound pelt, hey? That’s a mighty strangepartner, son.” Apparently unconcerned by the sulphur hissing from Cinders’jaws, Polk took a drink. “It’s a nice touch. Unusual. A real fighter needs atouch of the unusual about him.”
Polk parked himself beside the Justicar, forgetting to offer a pull from his brandy jug.
“Your technique’s good, son! Don’t get me wrong!” The manworked a piece of meat out from between two teeth, then pitched the morsel at the fires. “See, I knew they had to have someone watchin’ over us! A specialagent, a guardian angel. You work for the County Guard?”
“Special commission.” The Justicar should his head. “Countessof Urnst. She asked. I listened.” The Justicar examined his blade. The enchantedsteel was unmarked by the evening’s work. “She knew I’d be… inclined.”
Polk thoughtfully screwed the cork back into his jug, settling it in place with a decisive thud.
“How did you know that scout feller was a spy?”
“He was heading off to lead the ambush.” The Justicarcarefully examined his tools. “When a rider goes to the stream after makingcamp, he takes a bucket or he leads his horse.”
“Good reasoning, son! Fine reasoning.” The teamster watchedas an oil barrel deep inside the burning forest somehow shot itself up into the sky. “Unless he watered his horse when he first went into the forest-before hecame back to the caravan.”
The Justicar glared at the man and stripped the grinning hell hound pelt away from his back. “The ogres made a convincing argument.”
“I suppose so, suppose so….” The teamster watched as hiscompanion began to brush the hell hound pelt into a lustrous shine. The creature leaked sulphurous smoke from its nostrils, squeezing its eyes shut in pleasure as it basked beneath the brush.
Most other men would be loath to intrude upon a man and his dog-particularly a fire-breathing sentient hell hound pelt-but Polk hadobviously decided he was made of sterner stuff.
“Well, at least you picked up a few pointers from me. Notmany folks are smart enough to know when they have a failin’.” The teamsterpatted the big man with a paternalistic hand. “See, I told you that you needed agood sword fight! I admire a beginner who’s not ashamed to learn, son. I admireit, I really do.”
More explosions sounded from deep inside the forest fire as more oil barrels fed the hungry blaze. With half the landscape aflame, Polk strode off to see if any ale had been rescued from the camp. Sitting cross-legged in damp grass with a skinned hell hound purring in his lap, the Justicar could only gnaw upon his half-cooked meat and pray that tomorrow would be a better day.