The Child Thief

by Brom

  Peter gently lowered Sekeu to the ground, stood, and took a step forward. He didn’t look at Ulfger; instead he addressed the elf guards flanking the giant man.

  “Today,” Peter said, speaking loudly, “this group of kids you snub your noses at came together with your kin, and with the witch’s brood. Together they stood against the Flesh-eaters. Together they cut them down, burned them alive, reminded them that Avalon still has teeth! Their bravery, their blood, their lives have won Avalon this day and maybe many more.” Peter set his unrelenting glare on each elf. “Where were you?”

  Tanngnost was surprised at the power of Peter’s words on the stolid elves. Most were unable to meet Peter’s eyes. Some of them flinched visibly beneath his gaze. He caught several sidelong looks between them.

  “This girl,” Peter gestured to Sekeu. “She bled for the Lady today. And a brave boy by the name of Abraham died defending Avalon. Where were you?”

  “No one is listening to your prattle,” Ulfger said with a dark laugh.

  “All I ask,” Peter said, continuing to address the elves, “is passage to the Lady, to bring this wounded warrior, this defender of Avalon, before her. Who among you would deny her this honor?”

  “NEVER!” Ulfger shouted. “None may see the Lady. Much less such vile rabble.”

  Peter turned his eyes on Ulfger. Tanngnost could see Peter struggling to contain his rage. “The Lady is not yours to command,” Peter said through clenched teeth. “The Lady belongs to all of Avalon. Or have you forgotten the words of your own father?”

  Ulfger’s eyes flared dangerously, his knuckles went white around the shaft of his ax.

  “This rabble,” Peter said, sweeping his arm toward his companions, “have earned the right to see the Lady with their blood. How Ulfger…how have you earned the right?”

  “Kill him,” Ulfger ordered.

  Several of the elves dropped their hands to the hilts of their swords, but they didn’t draw, seemingly unsure what to do.

  “Lord Ulfger!” Tanngnost shouted. “Open your eyes! Can you not see that all the clans have come together? It is your time. Don the Horned Helm. Lead Avalon to victory!” Tanngnost lowered his voice. “Lord Ulfger, I beg you to think before you act. The fate of Avalon rests with you.”

  “Have you grown senile in your old age?” Ulfger sneered. “I’ve already given you my answer. The Lady’s Guard will never fight alongside this vileness. And are you such a fool that you would trust the secrets of the Haven to this rabble? Why not just lead the Flesh-eaters to the Lady yourself?”

  “At least they’ve earned that trust,” Peter said.

  Ulfger turned to his guard. “I will not say it again. Kill him!”

  The elves didn’t move.

  “What are you waiting for?” Ulfger cried. He stared at them, and still they stood. Then, one by one, each stepped away from Ulfger.

  Ulfger’s face first showed disbelief, then twisted into outrage. “What treachery is this?” he snarled, his face turning red as his brow clenched together. “Have you forgotten your oaths? Has all of Avalon gone mad?” He shoved the nearest guard forward, nearly knocking the elf to the ground. “NOW,” he shouted. “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”

  The guards stood their ground.

  “TRAITORS!” Ulfger screamed. “ALL OF YOU…TRAITORS! IT IS LEFT TO ME TO DEFEND THE LADY!” He hefted his ax and came at Peter with a wild overhand swing, leaving Peter no chance to pull out his sword. Instead Peter did the one thing Ulfger least expected. He leaped forward at the giant, dashing inside the blow intended to cleave him in two. Peter kicked the back of Ulfger’s knee as the man barreled past, sending him tumbling into the dirt. Ulfger landed hard, the ax flying from his hand.

  Ulfger let out a shrill cry of rage, scrambled for his ax, and was met by the spear tips of all fifteen elven guards, their cold eyes backing up the promise of their razor-sharp spears.

  “Enough, Ulfger,” Drael shouted. “Enough.”

  Ulfger stared at Drael, his mouth open, then his eyes became distant as though staring through the elf, as though seeing someone behind him, above him, some ghostly spectra only he could see. His whole body began to tremble, his dark eyes wide and crazed. “Why…why must you always hound me?” Ulfger cried, his voice cracking. “I gave you my oath. My oath!” He clutched at the earth, leaving deep claw marks in the soft dirt. “I will protect her, of course. How many times must I swear it?”

  The elves exchanged nervous looks.

  “Come.” Tanngnost waved the troop onward. They made a wide berth around the giant man as he continued to paw the dirt, following Drael as the old elf led them up the path toward Lady Modron’s Garden.

  “I believe his butter has curdled,” said one of the witch’s daughters.

  “Gone loopy lou lou,” added another.

  “Worms in the woodwork, indeed,” said the third.

  “Time to go see Auntie,” said the first.

  “I hope she has cake,” put in the second.

  “I hope she has bunnies,” said the third. “I like bunnies.”

  “Bunnies, yum,” said the first. “I’ll have two.”

  THE ELVES LED them along a rocky, fast-running creek. Peter carried Sekeu, pressing forward at a steady jog. The Devils followed right behind Peter, and a bit further back came the barghest, running along sideways on their knuckles. They looked playful and curious as they hooted and raced along the trail. It was hard for Nick to believe they were the same vicious beasts that had almost killed him. He caught occasional glimpses of the three girls as they skipped, almost floated, through the woods, their white gowns still streaked with black blood. He couldn’t suppress the shudder as their light giggles echoed about the forest.

  Cricket and Danny fell in with Nick. Danny was sweating and breathing so hard Nick wasn’t sure he’d make it much farther. His panda cat makeup had run all down his face, adding to the harrowed look of his eyes. “I’ve had it,” Danny huffed. “I’m done. Done with all this stupid bullcrap.”

  “Hang in there, Danny-O,” Cricket said, her voice pumped with excitement, like this was all some sort of big adventure. She patted him on the back. “You’re doing good.”

  Danny stared at her as though she’d lost her mind then turned to Nick. “Nick,” he gasped. “When you’re ready to go home…be sure to take me with you. I mean it.” Nick could tell that Danny did indeed mean it; the boy sounded like he might start crying at any moment.

  “I don’t want to die here,” Danny muttered. “I just want to go home.”

  “So, what happened out there?” Cricket asked Nick.

  Nick didn’t answer; the fever in his stomach still burned, the murderous urges still clawed at him, just like when he woke from the nightmares. Only this time the burning didn’t fade—if anything, it was growing worse. His head began to throb.

  “Hey, Nick,” Cricket said cautiously. “You okay?”

  Nick wished she’d leave him alone. He needed some time to himself, time to try and sort things out and get his mind straight.

  Cricket started to say something else, then quickened her pace, fell in line with Leroy, and began quizzing him. Leroy was more than happy to give his account, going on and on about how he’d knocked over the barrels, about burning the Flesh-eaters alive.

  What about how you hid in the swamp while Abraham was murdered? Nick felt the heat in his stomach flare. Anger was working its way back into his chest; he could feel it pulsing in his neck. It had felt so good, Nick thought, smashing in the Flesh-eater’s skull. The spray of brains. So good. He looked at the back of Leroy’s head. How would it feel to smash Leroy’s brains in?

  Leroy was still going on about knocking over the barrels.

  He ran, Nick thought. Ran away and left me there to die. He ran. He ran. The thought burned in his mind until it just forced its way out. “He ran,” Nick growled.

  “What?” Cricket asked.

  “He ran.”

  Leroy’s eyes blazed.

 
; “Ran away and hid.”

  Leroy shoved Nick. “You better shut the fuck up!”

  “You left us.”

  “I said shut the fuck up.” Leroy made to shove Nick again when someone grabbed him by the arm and jerked him around. Leroy stumbled and almost fell.

  “Tell them, Leroy,” Redbone said. “Tell them where you were when Abraham was dying.”

  Leroy glanced about like a caged dog, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

  “One. One extra sword,” Redbone said. “Could have saved Abraham.”

  Leroy shook his head, opened his mouth, but said nothing. He backed away from Redbone, away from all the hard stares. He looked unsure what to do with himself, and drifted back among the barghest.

  A sudden burning sensation stung the wound in Nick’s side. He clutched the cut, felt the hot wetness. He pulled his hand away and stifled a cry. The blood, his blood, was dark, almost black. What’s happening? he wondered. Another voice, a not very nice one, said, You know what’s happening. His head was drumming now, pounding hard. He stumbled and would have fallen but someone grabbed him, put an arm around him.

  “Steady there, Nick.”

  Nick saw Redbone’s wild grin through wet, blurry eyes.

  Redbone’s grin faltered. “Hey, man. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “I’m…fine.”

  Redbone glanced at Nick’s blood-soaked leathers. “Fuck, man. You took one hell of a lick.”

  “I’m fine,” Nick said, harsher than he’d intended. He pulled away from the wild boy and quickly covered the wound with his hand.

  “Okay, man. That’s cool. Just be sure to let me know if you need a hand.” Redbone started to say something more, hesitated, seemed to be searching for the right words, finally he blurted out, “Look, man, just gotta say. You earned your blades today. There were six of them bad dudes coming down on your ass, but you stood with her. Stood when you could’ve run. That takes more than guts. Let me tell you, that’s something deeper.” He clasped Nick on the shoulder. “Just want you to know, brother. You need me, I’m there.” He gave Nick another of his crazed grins before heading up to check on Peter and Sekeu.

  For a moment Nick forgot the pain, the burning in his stomach. There was no denying what he’d seen in the wild boy’s eyes. Redbone was his friend, the kind of friend that would stand by him to the end. Nick found himself blinking away tears.

  The river narrowed, became clear and fast, splashing and swirling against the large boulders and rocky bank. They’d left all signs of the scourge behind; most of the trees here still had their leaves. They came to a series of large flat stones strung out across the river and leaped from one to the other to cross the current. The three sisters didn’t use the stones, their tiny feet plucking at the rushing water as they danced right across the waves.

  The foliage on the far bank was fuller. Nick spied the occasional flower and caught sight of several faeries watching them timidly from up in the trees. Nick admired their brilliantly colored wings. Yes, he thought, so very pretty. How delicious to feel their tiny bones cracking in my hands. Nick shook his head. No, he thought. Stop. But that other, that deeper him, didn’t want to stop.

  THE TRAIL BROADENED into a long courtyard. Murky wading pools stretched along either side of the path. A few shriveled lily pads and water weeds poked up here and there. Standing stones covered with brown, dried moss stood in intervals down the pools, several had fallen and lay half-submerged on their sides. Ahead, a tall archway cut into a towering white stone ledge with a gentle waterfall spilling onto its crest. The ancient wooden doors were barred shut.

  Peter let out a sound as though he’d been punched in the gut. “How?”

  “She took the path to the Haven and never returned,” the old elf said. “The garden wilts without her hand.”

  They entered a courtyard and Peter slowed, staring at a pond. Scattered among the algae and weeds were the shattered remnants of several golden globes. Peter stopped. He looked pained, disheartened.

  Tanngnost came and stood beside him. “Sometimes it is the smaller things that hit the hardest.”

  They continued through a series of courtyards until they came to a large overgrown field surrounded by wild hedges and crumbling arches. Nick counted ten arches. The elf led them toward the back of the field, to a small, unassuming arch half-hidden behind a straggly hedge. The arch was in the shape of a dragon’s mouth; several of the teeth had broken and lay scattered in the weeds.

  They passed through and the trail narrowed, weaving its way through dense underbrush, towering trees, and giant boulders. The path ran upward along the bottom of a steep cliff until coming to an abrupt end against the sheer walls of a box canyon. The walls towered so high above as to leave the troop in deep shadow.

  The canyon smelled of damp earth and rotting things. Vines as thick as a man’s leg pushed up from the earth, their stems—spiked with treacherous thorns—twisted and coiled up the face of the stone like a nest of snakes. A simple apple was carved into the stone at eye level.

  The old elf gave the Devils and barghest a hard, probing look. He turned to Peter and the troll. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Both of them nodded.

  “The oath?” the elf asked. “The rites?”

  “We’ve no time for oaths and silly ceremonies,” Peter said impatiently. “Just open the thing.”

  The elf looked to the troll.

  “They are Avalon now,” Tanngnost said. “There are no others. We have to trust them.”

  Drael still looked unsure but stepped up to the stone, placed his hand atop the apple, closed his eyes, and spoke a string of strange words.

  Silence hung in the air as the troop held their collective breath. Nothing happened for a long moment, then the thorny vines began to rustle, slowly slithering, coiling unto themselves like vipers preparing to strike, creeping back until a circular groove—almost as tall as the troll—was revealed in the stone.

  The old elf pushed on one side of the circle, several of the elves quickly joining him. There came the slight grinding of stone as they pivoted the circle inward, revealing a short tunnel. Nick could see light coming through from the far end. The opening was large enough for one person to enter at a time, and one by one the troop filed through.

  Nick hesitated; something about the entrance made him—or some part of him—uneasy. He waited until the last barghest passed, before approaching the tunnel. The vines rustled as he neared, almost as though watching him. Nick took a deep breath and ducked in; as he did, a vine struck him, hitting him hard on the forehead, just missing his eye. Another snagged his ankle, almost tripping him, while several more struck at him like biting snakes. Nick jerked his foot free and dashed through the tunnel.

  Redbone was waiting for him. “You okay, man?” Redbone squinted back down the dark tunnel. “You look like something’s after you.”

  “Uh, no…nothing,” Nick said breathlessly. “Just…got spooked. That’s all.”

  They continued to follow the elves and soon came upon a steep, rushing creek. The water was crystal-clear and smelled sweet. The forest flourished as they made their way up the steady incline. Soon there were flowers sprouting from vines and bushes, and soft moss carpeting the trail. Nick caught sight of a pair of small spotted deer and heard the peeping of tree frogs. A soft hum buzzed past his head as several dozen faeries zipped about the troop, chirping and doing loop-de-loops. A feverish shudder coursed across Nick’s skin, a fresh flush of heat bloomed in his stomach. His fingernails bit into his palms as an overwhelming need to tear the little creatures to pieces all but consumed him. He felt if he could kill them, the pounding in his head, the heat in his stomach would finally cease. No, he thought. Stop it. Stop it before it’s too late. He clenched his fingers into fists, pressed his hands tight against his thighs, fighting to keep them under control.

  The wound began to burn again, worse than before. He clutched his side, felt the heat. He made sure no one was watching, th
en looked at his hand. His blood was darker now, almost black. “Fuck!” Nick whispered.

  A barghest, much smaller than the others, loped up alongside of him. The creature only came up to Nick’s knee. It gave him a curious look and chirped.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” Nick hissed, and grinned.

  The barghest cocked its head from side to side, then scampered away.

  “Dig your beady little eyes out with my thumbs,” Nick said under his breath. The heat in his stomach began to burn, to climb up his throat, the pressure behind his eyes to throb. “Tear your flesh from your bones.” Yes, the Other in him said. Do it! Do it now! All the pain will go away. Just do it. Do it. Do it now. And at that moment, Nick believed that Other, truly felt that killing the barghest would make the pain go away, felt it in his very core.

  The troop pushed around a bend and Nick was confronted by dozens of tall, thin waterfalls, their silvery waters cascading down a mountain face of pure white stone. Nick tilted back his head but couldn’t find the top of the falls. The water appeared to be falling from the low-lying clouds themselves. The mist was cool, soothing, and smelled like spring. Nick inhaled deeply and felt a reprieve from that Other, from that deeper self. For a moment, he stood there and just lost himself in the spectacle of the beautiful falling water.

  The elf led them to a smaller fall, the one farthest back. An inconspicuous path ran along a small ledge and disappeared directly into the falls. The water crashed down with such force it was obvious they could go no farther, but the old elf walked directly into the falls and vanished from view.

  Peter hesitated a moment, then followed. One by one, each of the party entered until it was Nick’s turn. Nick could see it wasn’t a trick, there was just enough space behind the falls to slip past, but it was still unnerving to blindly walk into the misty shadows. Nick took a deep breath, stepped through, and found himself in a short tunnel, the walls shimmering with an emerald light the color of the sea.