The Child Thief

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!”