Jeremy couldn’t believe what was happening — he was being admired — instead of being ridiculed. He even told the captain the truth about his most hated enemies, and he seemed content to listen to his tale of disinfection.

Were jerms that big of a deal?

The wizard took time to ponder — realizing that soldiers should be quite aware of them. Sebas told him more soldiers died of jerms from infected wounds than actual battlefield injury — and he totally believed him.

Jerms were evil. They were the unseen enemy that invade, corrupt, and destroy. They were legion — and ultimately, inevitable.

But the wizard would not go gently. He would fight tooth and nail to keep them out of his body — the same way he fought the infernal voices in his heads.

It was a difficult thing — constantly fighting battles on two fronts — but Jeremy had the strength of will, combined with crippling fear and disgust, to do so.

He took a deep breath — relishing his current cleanliness.

The worst had already happened. Everything that came after would be trifles in comparison.

Cicero rode up to him. The captain seemed a bit more respectful than he deserved — treating him more like a peer than a subordinate.

“The scouts spotted a troop of goblins,” he offered Jeremy a spyglass “There are less than three dozen of them — the men should make short work of them.”

“Are they clean?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing important.”

Jeremy took the spyglass and turned it to where the captain was pointing. He counted thirty one goblins and one crone.

“They’ve got a caster,” he warned. “One of those ice hags. I’ve read about them in the archives.”

“I’ve tangled with one of those,” Cicero frowned. “The hag had a poisoned dagger. The mages in Evergreen said its poison could kill a dragon. You should be careful.”

“What?” Jeremy was shocked. “Captain, what are you talking about? I’m not a dragon.”

The wizard started to check himself, feeling his backs for wings, checking his arms for scales, and his teeth for fangs.

“See, captain.” he laughed nervously. “Perfectly human. Hehehe.”

Cicero stared at him, as if unconvinced of his denial of being a dragon. It looked like the captain was about to say something — then he just shook his head and turned away.

“Your spyglass—” His words were lost as the captain continued riding towards his men.

Jeremy started to pocket the spyglass into one of the many folds of his robes before realizing he had a different attire. It didn’t have that many pockets and it was too tight in some areas. There was no extra cloth for the wind to buffet when he stood on top of Shelby — certainly not enough to mask his awkward movements and make them look graceful.

He yearned for wizard robes with wide sleeves — or at least a cloak. They made him look more dynamic and cool.

It took a while to learn how to avoid tripping or getting entangled — but those two extra years of practice were definitely worth it.

Since he had it, he raised the spyglass to check on their enemies once more. The hag seemed to be performing some sort of ritual — and now all the goblins just keeled over.

Jeremy could see blue wisps leaving the bodies of the goblins and entering the hag’s staff — most likely to power a spell.

He stared at his own staff, wondering why he didn’t put more thought into making it.

A patch of blue ice blossomed in the distance.

Jeremy wondered at the purpose. It wasn’t wide enough to stop their charge. They could certainly just circle around it.

Shelby was saying something about a portal and creatures coming out of the ice. Now what creature or creatures should they be expecting?

The patch of ice lit up.

Even at that distance, Jeremy could feel the distortion of space.

He was expecting a dragon to fly out, or maybe a giant would climb out of the ice — instead, he saw one of the most horrible creatures he could imagine.

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It was an arctic crawler — a gargantuan hooded centipede-like creature that thrived on arctic regions by generating heat through the spines in their back. They didn’t breath fire or anything — but getting close to them was like standing on top of a blazing bonfire.

Jeremy shivered.

The number of legs on the thing was just too disturbing. It was a good thing it didn’t have wings. If it flew and landed on to him —he would probably die.

Shelby slowed down, keeping pace with the horses.

Cicero rode to his side once again — a look of concern on his face.

“A remorhaz!”

“A ram your what?!”

“A rem—” the captain rolled his eyes. “An arctic crawler.”

“Oh, I knew that.”

Jeremy was more interested in the portal than the creature. He was watching the light die down at the same time that the spatial distortions were dissolving.

The portal was gone and the creature — the creature was dying.

The wizard could feel some kind repository for the Ice’s energy within its body — but it was being depleted every passing second. At the rate that it was losing energy, he guessed it only had an hour or so to live — unless it could reconnect with the Ice.

“That creature would tear through the troops,” Cicero lamented. “We’ll take heavy casualties before we reach that spire.”

“The spire shouldn’t be up yet.” Jeremy guessed. Though it might be in an hour — if the hag was buying time.

“Don’t worry, captain,” he reassured Cicero. “We don’t have to kill the beast — we just have to avoid it.”

“That thing is faster than our horses,” Cicero gritted his teeth. “It’s better to just roll the dice than have it pick us off one-by-one.”

Jeremy smiled at the captain and waited for him to calm down.

“It’s faster than your horses — but its not faster than Shelby.”

“You want to send your snail against the beast?” Cicero’s expression looked doubtful. “Why would it even chase after the snail instead of the horses?”

“Oh, Shelby has her ways — don’t you Shelby?”

The snail’s flail-like appendages started to swing back and forth in agreement and excitement.

Jeremy remembered the attack on the Corner Shop™, and how one small snail led around the horses with just a flag and the magic of potion number 1.

He held up a jade vial. He found the thing embedded on his leg when he woke up. At least it didn’t break.

Jeremy gave Shelby the vial — reminding her to only use it when she was away from the horses.

Shelby seemed eager to approach the arctic crawler. She probably thought it was like playing a game of tag with a slower opponent who never stood a chance at winning.

He wondered why snails weren’t affected by his potion. At first he was a bit downtrodden, but Sebas explained that snails and slugs had both pe—

Jeremy shook his head. He would rather not go there. For him, Shelby would always be a loyal girl, even if she had two sets of —.

“You sure of this, Scourge?” Cicero asked as they both watched Shelby advancing towards the enemy.

“She’ll be fine,” Jeremy looked up at the captain. “What can a centipede do to a snail?”

He took a step and realized the deeper meaning to the captain’s question. He was on foot!

“Uhm, Captain? Do you have any spare horses I can borrow?”

***

“Don’t touch that.” Anika warned. “Don’t touch that either!”

It was too late. The Scourge’s touch interfered with the seals on the ballista — launching a spear into the air.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized. He stood up on the cart. “Sorry, everyone! Just a misfire!”

Anika frowned as she watched the wizard sit back down on the cart. She didn’t think a single touch would be enough to disrupt her ballista’s static seals. Then again, they didn’t have enough wizards visiting the vanguard.

At first, Cicero tried lending the Scourge a few of their spare horses — but all of them started bucking when he got near. The captain even tried lending Stalwart, his own steed, but the horse just stood rigid when the Scourge mounted him.

The carts were the only option, and Anika didn’t trust any stranger with her ballista — and it seems for good reason.

“I remember your sister,” she tried starting a conversation when she felt there were no other ears listening. It should keep the wizard’s mind away from the enchantments on the cart.

“Oh?”

“I worked with the Blackstaff a few years back,” she explained. “In one of my visits, I saw your sister in one of her dance lessons.”

“Dance lessons?” the Scourge seemed more confused than curious. “Are you sure it was my sister?”

“Pretty sure,” Anika insisted. “She looked so much like you — and she was wearing a red dress that seemed too big for her.”

The wizard’s shoulder seemed to droop. “Was she any good?”

“Nope,” she answered truthfully. “She was always tripping and fumbling her sleeves. Hopefully she got better with more lessons.

The Scourge face turned a bit red.

“I’m sorry. Did you have dance lessons too?”

“Me? Of course not!” he denied. “My lessons were more martial in nature — focusing on coordination and balance.”

Anika smiled.

She lied about the sister. The Blackstaff himself told her that it was his son practicing movement drills in his wizard robes. She wondered what happened to the red one.

“Does everyone know?” he seemed concerned.

At first she thought it was about the lessons — then she realized it was about his identity.

“Just the captain and me,” she answered. “The Blackstaff has been having regular meetings with Cicero — most likely to check up on you.”

“Yeah, he’d do that.”

An awkward silence soon followed. Anika wasn’t sure how to break it — and she was afraid the Scourge would start tinkering once again.

“Your snail,” she started. “It seems pretty special.”

She remembered hearing from her husband said the snail was one of the few friends the Scourge had.

“She.”

“She?”

“Shelby is a girl — so she.”

“You named your snail Shelby?” Anika couldn’t help giggling. “I guess you probably named your staff — oh wait, let me think… Stephanie?”

“Of course not,” the Scourge rolled his eyes. “It’s the Painful Staff of Pain. No wizard would name a staff Stephanie.”

Anika started laughing. She tried holding it in — but the contrast between the Scourge in the battlefield and the one in her cart was simply too astounding.

Two raps on the cart shook her from her laughter and musings.

“Captain said to tell the Scourge that we’d be reaching the spire in ten minutes,” the rider explained. “And he wants his spyglass back.”