The Child Thief

the wood and understood. A chain, hooked onto a long, bent nail, was all that held the slat across his door in place. It would’ve been impossible for Nick to reach it, but the pixie was trying her best to pull it loose. Nick suddenly dared to hope.

But the chain was heavy for such a small creature, and she could barely get it to budge. She planted her feet against the plank and yanked over and over again. The chain inched up the nail, but each time she tugged the chain, it clacked loudly against the slat.

Nick glanced over to where the crippled guard lay next to the fire. The embers had burned down, giving off an eerie glow in the heavy fog. The guard’s chin rested against his chest; it was hard to tell if the man was awake or asleep.

The chain clanged again and the pixie hesitated, buzzing away then back, as though trying to build up her courage. Nick remembered the dead pixies he’d seen on the line with the fish. He wondered what sort of traps the men set for pixies.

She landed back on the chain and looked at Nick. Nick nodded up and down rapidly, trying to encourage her, pleading with his eyes for her not to give up. The chain was at the very top of the nail now. She bit her lip, planted both feet on the board, and gave a mighty tug. The chain popped free, sending the pixie tumbling backward through the air. The chain swung down, hitting the door with a loud smack.

Nick’s eyes went to the old guard, sure he’d be up and all this would be for naught. But the guard didn’t so much as stir. He just lay there, his chest steadily rising and falling. Nick thanked the stars the man was hard of hearing.

Now that the chain was off, Nick only had to work the slat over. He stuck his fingers through the planks and slid it across an inch at a time. It fell off the clasp, landing with a thud in the soft earth. Nick pushed the door slowly open and slid out of his cell. He sat crouched in the shadows with his heart thumping. What now?

The pixie fluttered over to him, hovered right in front of his face, gave him a long, wet raspberry, grinned as big as the moon, and flew up and away, a streak of blue light disappearing into the mist. Nick allowed himself a grin. From here on out, pixies could steal his food any time they wanted.

Nick watched the guard, ready to rush him if he woke. But the guard did nothing more than grunt and snore. Nick peered beyond the rise; the shadowy shape of the back fortifications looked to be less than twenty yards away. It would be easy, in this fog, to slip over unseen, scale the ramparts, and be away.

I’m done here, he thought and headed toward the wall. Done with the madness, done with Flesh-eaters, Devils, the Lady, and most of all…Peter. He stopped. The Mist was rising, its silvery luminance swirling beneath the fog, its ghostly tendrils creeping through the fortification. He could actually smell it, that dusty dankness. It brought the boy to mind, the one with the Nike high-tops, the horrible scream forever frozen on his face. Nick gritted his teeth. Can I do this? Can I go in there alone? Then he heard them, or thought he did: the faint voices of children. A chill crawled up his back. He looked toward the square, to where Peter hung from the cross, and realized he was down to two choices and he didn’t like either one of them. He kicked the mud. “Fuck,” he whispered, and started back. “Damn it, Peter. You better not let me down.”

Nick slipped toward the guard, his footsteps silent in the soft, moist dirt. This is stupid, he thought. I should leave while I still can. He found the guard’s spear leaning against a stump, picked it up, and leveled it at the man’s chest. Do it, he told himself. You have to. If he awakes he’ll ruin any chance of escape. Now, one hard thrust. Yet Nick hesitated. He knew this man would kill him in a heartbeat. But, Nick thought, this man gave me water. And he’s just an old man that got caught up in this nightmare, same as me. Nick lowered the spear. And, if I kill him, how will he ever be able to see the stars again?

Nick felt eyes on him and looked up—Leroy was staring at him from the open cell. Leroy didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, just watched. Nick didn’t know what Leroy would do and didn’t care. Nick carefully slipped the guard’s sword out of its scabbard and, carrying the sword in one hand and the spear in the other, moved silently away, toward the town square.

Nick crouched in the shadow of a woodpile and tried to figure out his next move. A light thud came from behind him; he started. Leroy was there, right beside him. Nick flashed the sword around and leveled it at the boy’s throat.

Leroy flinched, but held his place.

Nick kept the sword on him. “What’d you want?” Nick hissed.

“Give me the spear. I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Nick whispered.

“Yes,” Leroy said, raising his voice.

Nick pressed the sword to Leroy’s throat. “Shut up.”

Nick heard a woman’s laughter coming from the town square. He could see a few shapes through the shifting fog; one of them threw something at Peter and cackled.

Nick looked into Leroy’s eyes. “I’m going to get Peter.”

Leroy nodded.

Nick cursed himself for being a fool, and handed Leroy the spear.

THE CAPTAIN STOOD before the wooden structure and watched the flames lick the sky. He looked at Danny. “Daniel, what do you know of this?”

The boy shrugged, he seemed as perplexed as the rest of them.

“We’re on the righteous path,” the Reverend pronounced loudly. “The Lord smites our foes. His great hand leads our way. Here, here is the proof!” He jabbed at the small, smoldering bodies lying about on the ground. “God has burned them with their own flame!”

Well, someone had, anyway, the Captain thought. He sure hoped it was God, but he had a bad feeling it was something else, something that they didn’t want to run into.

He picked up one of the discarded swords and examined it. These were finely crafted blades, odd to have been left behind, but there was plenty of oddness here. He held his torch near the soft earth. Small footprints were scattered everywhere, those of the pointy-eared folk or maybe the demon children, but it was the large bootprints that made him uneasy. He set his foot in one. The prints were substantially larger than his own.

He leaned down to Danny. “Where to from here?”

Danny pointed past the burning hall, to a courtyard.

“Form ranks,” the Captain shouted. “Let’s keep moving.”

NICK PRESSED AGAINST the side of the hut. Leroy was across the way, against another. Nick signaled for him to hold as he peered around the corner. He leaned out slowly, careful to make no sudden movements, the way Sekeu had taught him.

There were two guards, but they were hardly guarding anyone, too interested in entertaining the two women. Nick recognized one of the women—Eva, the one who’d accused him of being a demon. He gritted his teeth, almost growled.

Eva was pointing at Peter and whispering to the group as they huddled. Apparently, she said something humorous, for her friend let out a snort, then quickly covered her mouth. The guards were doing their best to stifle their mirth.

Eva’s eyes widened, as though struck with divine inspiration. She plucked up one of the guards’ spears, raised the blunt end up, and pointed it at Peter’s crotch. She glanced back and forth between the guards and her friend. They all watched her, barely able to contain themselves. Eva jabbed Peter in the crotch. The group practically had a fit as they struggled not to laugh out loud.

Nick saw Peter’s face tighten. So, you’re alive after all.

Eva jabbed Peter in the crotch again, hard, and this time Peter moaned and the guards doubled over laughing.

Nick nodded to Leroy, then launched himself at the guards. And he was fast. Nick was stunned to feel the fleetness of his own feet. He was on the first guard before the man even saw him. Nick bounded off the platform,