The Child Thief

hung from a buckler about his waist and a short halberd sat across his lap. He seemed to be peering directly at Nick with his piercing red eyes.

Nick’s blood went cold. He blinked, but dared not do anything else. Afraid the slightest move would give them all away.

The man leaned forward, squinting through the smoke. He leaned left then right, as though trying to get a clearer view. He sat his helmet on his head, hefted his halberd, and started down the slope toward Nick.

Nick tried not to breathe.

“Steady,” Sekeu whispered.

The Flesh-eater halted about a dozen yards away. He whistled to a nearby guard and waved the man over. When the second guard arrived, the first guard pointed toward Nick’s hiding place. The new guard, a brutish, squat man, looked up and down the bushes, then shook his head. But the first guard was persistent. He pulled the man forward and pointed again. The second guard just shrugged. Finally, the first guard spat out the twig he’d been chewing on and came tromping through the thicket right toward them. The second guard rolled his eyes but followed along.

We have to get away! Nick thought. Now, while we still can!

A fresh plume of smoke enveloped them, clouding the view. Sekeu, Abraham, and Redbone slipped their swords out in a quick, smooth motion. Their eyes were locked on the hazy shapes of the guards, their bodies tensed up like springs.

Oh, shit, thought Nick, they’re going to go. Nick felt his heart might explode in his chest. No, thought Nick. No we can’t. Not yet. Not without Peter. We’ll be slaughtered.

Nick heard the wet, slurping suction of heavy boots in the mud right in front of him. The smoke blew clear and there, not two paces away, stood the guard. Nick froze, powerless to move or even scream. He saw in chilling clarity the man’s scaly, lumpy, toadlike hide, every scar, wrinkle, and wart, saw the halberd pointed right at him. The man’s eyes went wide and Nick saw his own death reflected in those hellish red orbs.

Sekeu flew forward, her sword flashed, and the guard’s neck split open, his head flying into the air. Nick saw the white of his neck bones, saw every vein and artery as clean as an autopsy, then black blood gushed upward like an oil well. He heard the soggy thud of the head landing in the mud, then the headless body toppled over backward.

The second guard jumped back, bringing his ax to bear on Sekeu. Redbone struck from the man’s side. The man swung for him, but Redbone darted beneath the clumsy weapon, slicing both of the man’s legs open behind the knee. The man went down with a cry. Abraham was on him almost before he hit the ground, cleaving the Flesh- eater’s throat open.

And as though on cue, an eruption of screams arose from the far side of the clearing. Nick couldn’t see anything through the smoke, but knew it was Peter, knew the attack was on.

“NOW!” cried Sekeu.

And Nick found himself running as fast as he could through the muck, trying to keep up with Sekeu’s long legs. The adrenaline took over, pushing the fear from his mind as he darted between stumps and leaped over roots and limbs, focused only on knocking over the barrels and getting the hell out of there.

“NOW!” PETER SHOUTED, and as one they leaped to their feet, slapping their swords together and howling like wild dogs.

Peter knew their goal was to distract, to engage and get out, but the dying cries of the trees had ignited his blood. He wanted murder and intended to have it.

About six or seven tree burners and four guards were right before them. These demons with their oil and flame, Peter thought, these at least would die today. Peter’s face twisted with hatred as he flew forward, striking the first guard before the man could even pull his sword free, sending his head flying from his shoulders. Another man swung his oily broom at Peter. Peter ducked the blow and cut the man’s foot off at the ankle. The Flesh-eater screamed and toppled. Peter shoved his sword into the man’s face, right between the eyes, then spun around, hungry for more flesh. But the Devils and elves had been deadly efficient in their attack, and the Flesh-eaters lay dead or dying at their feet.

Horns filled the air. Cries echoed from all ends of the clearing as the Flesh-eaters quickly came together.

Peter searched the field and found what he was looking for: five hunched figures, well behind the ranks of soldiers, sprinting along the slope toward the barrels. Peter wiped a spray of black blood from his forehead and grinned.

The guards raised a cry and came for them. Peter guessed there were at least sixty of them, leaving behind only three men that he could see to guard the barrels. Good, Peter thought, and he allowed himself to believe the day might end well after all. “Here they come,” Peter shouted. “Hold steady.”

A yell came from a tall man with a thin mustache and goatee, wearing a leather doublet and a wide- brimmed hat with a tattered feather. Peter’s blood went cold. It was him, the Captain. The Captain ran up to the ragged formation, meeting them midfield. He raised his sword and ordered them to halt. The guards stopped.

What’s he doing? Peter kept a close watch, knowing the Captain was a hard man to stay ahead of. How many times had this man turned the tables on him? More than he cared to remember.

The Captain formed the men up into ranks, shouting and pointing this way and that with his sword. Peter’s heart sank as the Captain sent one line of about twenty guards back toward the barrels. The Captain shouted again and the remaining ranks resumed their advance, charging Peter’s group at a steady run.

Peter glanced at the barrels; he could no longer see the boys, but knew they must be behind the slope and probably unaware of the shift in defense. Fast, he thought, they have to be fast or all is lost.

SEKEU TOOK THE lead, Redbone next, followed by Leroy, then Nick, with Abraham covering their rear. Nick had seen the guards gather and go after Peter. It’s gonna work. It’s gonna work. It’s gonna work, Nick told himself, as though he could will it so. He kept his eyes fixed on the treacherous tangle of roots, mud, and branches as he wove his way up the slope. He leaped atop a stump and dared a look forward. There, just ahead, the barrels! He heard a shout and spotted three guards heading right for them.

Sekeu bounded off a log and into the first guard, knocking the man’s pike aside and cutting all the way through his arm at the elbow. Both the guard’s forearm and the pike flew into the brambles. The guard screamed and spun away, but didn’t quit; he drew his sword with his remaining arm, but before he could swing, Redbone came up behind him and cut one of his legs out from beneath him. The man tumbled. Redbone and Sekeu kept going without so much as a backward glance. Nick gritted his teeth and jumped over the squirming guard, horrified that the man was still trying to get to his feet.

Sekeu and Redbone charged the next two guards, pushing them back before a whirlwind of strikes and blows, like offensive linemen clearing a path for the running back. Nick and Leroy dashed through the melee, heading toward the barrels.

There was now only the peg-legged hunchback left between them and the barrels. Leroy made the rise first and stopped cold. Nick ran into him, started to curse, then saw the scene: a large troop of guards were chasing Peter’s band into the trees, but that wasn’t what had stopped Leroy in his tracks—below them, not fifty yards away, at least twenty guards were heading directly for them: hard-looking men moving fast.

A minute, Nick thought, they had maybe one minute before those guards would be upon them. Nick yanked out his sword and yelled, “Go!” He gave Leroy a shove and the two of them ran as hard as they could for the barrels.

The hunchback held a wide, curved sword in one hand and the oily ladle in the other. He showed them a few crusty black teeth and shouted, “Com’eer you little fucks, let Henry cut out your eyes and shove ’em up your asses.”

Nick feinted a hard swing to the man’s head, intent on using the trick that’d worked so well on Leroy the night before. But the hunchback caught Nick’s sword at the hilt, knocking the weapon out of Nick’s hand. Nick