The Child Thief

The Reverend glared at the men. “Did you not hear me? The Lord needs you to be brave. You will move. Now!”

The Captain read a silent curse in the men’s eyes, but they moved, because they knew very well that the Reverend wouldn’t hesitate to have them nailed to a tree if they didn’t.

Beasley and John crept slowly into the canyon, scanning the cliffs, watching the rocks and foliage for booby traps. They looked relieved when they made it to the wall without mishap. They pushed the vines aside, uncovering what looked to be a circular incision into the stone.

“Aye, it be here, Cap,” Beasley called back over his shoulder. “It looks to be a—”

Something grabbed Beasley, wrapped around his arm, and yanked him against the wall. At first the Captain thought it was a serpent hidden among the vines, then he realized it was the vines. The thorny vines grabbed both men—slithering around their arms, legs, torsos, and necks—twisting, squeezing like boa constrictors. The men cried out and the Captain started forward, then noticed the vines along both sides of the small canyon unfurling, reaching for him. He stopped.

Beasley’s eyes bulged and he let out a shrill wail. There came the undeniable snapping of bones as the vines bent the men’s arms and legs into impossible angles. The men screamed and screamed, their cries echoing up and down the stone walls. The vines twisted the men, ripping their bodies apart. Blood and gore squeezed from their gullets, spattering down the leaves and landing in sloppy puddles on the white stones.

Sorcery, the Captain thought. The Lady’s hand at work.

A panicked rumbling spread through the men, they began to knock into one another as they tried to press back down the narrow trail.

“HOLD!” the Captain commanded. “Mark, Thomas, Anthony, all of you. STAND FAST!” The men continued to shift nervously, but held their ground.

The Captain glared at the Reverend. The Reverend caught the Captain’s accusing stare and looked away. Watch your back, the Captain thought. First chance I get I’m going to gut you like a fish.

“The boy,” the Reverend said bitterly. “He tricked us! Ox, take the boy, send him into the vines!”

“No,” the Captain said, his eyes burning into the Reverend. “Don’t you blame the boy.”

“Captain, my patience with you is at an end! I will—”

The Captain spun away, grabbed an ax from one of the men, hefted his torch, and stomped toward the vines.

“Captain,” the Reverend called. “You will stop.”

The Captain ignored him; he reached the vines and shoved the flame into their leaves, driving the snapping, whipping plants away from him. He brought the ax down onto one of the thick stalks near the ground. The blade sliced deep into the vine, a spray of red liquid spurted out. Blood, the Captain thought, and was not the least surprised.

He ordered the men forward and they followed his lead, burning and hacking the deadly plants back. Soon the vines lay writhing in their death throes upon the canyon floor, and there, before them, the circular edge of the door was revealed.

Chapter Twenty-Three Avallach’s Tree

Here. Lay him here,” Peter said and helped Nick lower Leroy to the ground.

Leroy wrapped both hands about his gut and let out a low moan, blood oozing from between his fingers. Nick wished they had some cloth, some water, anything to help.

Peter glanced ahead, north, toward the mountains. “We have to leave him,” Peter said, his tone cold and detached.

“What do you mean?” Nick asked.

“He’s slowing us down.”

“NO!” Leroy cried. “Don’t leave me. Please. I can walk. Please. Please don’t leave me.”

“We’ll come back for you later,” Peter said, but, Nick could tell by the way Peter said it, there’d be no later.

Peter pulled Nick aside. “He’s dead anyway.”

“What?”

“It’s a gut wound. A bad one. There’s nothing for it.”

“You don’t know,” Nick said. “He might make it. Maybe we can take him to the Lady.”

“Can’t you see? He won’t get halfway there.”

Leroy moaned again, the glow from the burning huts glistening off his wet brow. He bent over almost double. Nick glanced back, could just make out a handful of armed men milling about near the gate.

“Jesus Christ, Peter. He just saved your life and you’re going to leave him here…for them?”

“I’m not going to leave him for them,” Peter said coldly.

Nick looked at Peter, tying to comprehend.

Peter slid out his knife, keeping it hidden from Leroy. “A gut wound is a slow, painful way to die,” Peter whispered. “It’s best if we end this quickly. Trust me, it’s a kindness.”

Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No way. No, you can’t.”

Peter’s face was set. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he warned and pushed past Nick.

Leroy saw Peter’s face and his eyes went wide. “Peter, please,” he blubbered. “Please, I can walk.”

Nick jumped in front of Peter, leveled his sword at Peter’s chest. “Stop it. Stop this right now! ”

“This the way you want to do it?” Peter snarled. “Just like with Sekeu?”

“What? No.” Nick shook his head. “You don’t know what—”

Before Nick could even blink, Peter shot forward and slapped his sword aside. He landed a solid blow to Nick’s chin, knocking him to the ground. Peter was on top of him, a knee planted in his chest, the knife to his throat.

“Tell me, Nick. What happened? What happened with Sekeu? Tell me quick. Tell me the truth and I might spare you. Lie to me and I promise you a painful death.”

Nick felt the blade press into his flesh, felt warm blood roll down his neck. Peter’s eyes were wild, scary.

“You’re about to die, Nick. Talk!”

“I DIDN’T DO IT!” Nick shouted.

“Then who?”

“Ask Leroy.”

Peter set his eyes on Leroy.

Leroy looked like a trapped animal; he shook his head rapidly back and forth. “NO! Not me! I didn’t do it! It was him. The horned man!” Leroy began to sob. “The horned man made me. Made me do it. He made me!” Leroy was bawling now. “Peter, you got to believe me.”

Peter’s eyes thinned to slits, his lips pressed together, forming a tight line. He shoved Nick away and went for Leroy.

“NO!” Leroy screamed and tried to get to his feet, let out a cry of pain, clutched his stomach, and fell. Blood gushed out from beneath his hand as he crawled away from Peter, kicking and clawing