The Child Thief (29 page)

NICK STOOD WITH
Peter, the troll, and the other New Blood upon the watchtower. It was another silvery gray day beneath the ghostly clouds of Avalon. He could see across the treetops, across the fog clinging to the lowlands, and across rolling hills and ragged cliffs. Between breaks in the haze he could just make out the perimeter of the island, the impenetrable Mist forming a solid wall of whiteness at the shoreline.

Peter pointed to a jagged line of devastation that ran the width of the island, to the black smoke rising from along the edge of the forest. “The Flesh-eaters are burning down Avalon tree by tree, even as we stand here.”

Nick stared at the blackened scar dominating the landscape but didn’t really see it; his thoughts were tangled around Tanngnost’s words: “The magic poisoned the men, darkening their skin, growing scales and claws, turning them into demons.”
Just like in my dream,
Nick thought.
What does that mean then? That I’m turning into a Flesh-eater?

Peter placed a hand on Nick’s back. “Do you see, Nick?”

Nick started; he hadn’t been listening.

Peter pointed. “There, that inlet. That’s the Merrow Cove. And just up past that ridge, there. That’s where the Flesh-eaters’ fort lies.”

Nick could see it now, a cluster of black specks surrounded by some sort of fortification. He could also make out what must be the rotting skeletons of the ships in the cove.

“From there all the way to the black smoke, all used to be a lush forest, home to a million faerie folk.”

The burned lands ran the width of the island, and came inward from the coasts. On one side of that line, nothing but ravaged land, on the other the dying forests of Avalon. There was so little left, and much of what remained was gray and withered.

“All the gray you see is the scourge,” Tanngnost said. “It’s the result of so many of Avalon’s trees and inhabitants being killed. There’s no longer enough magic to support the wilds and more delicate creatures, so the wilderness is dying, essentially starving to death for want of magic. Once the forests are gone, where will we live?”

And that’s what this all comes down to
, Nick thought.
They want us to fight their war
. Somehow seeing the fires made it all too real: kids fighting and dying. Nick shuddered. He tried to imagine what that would be like, tried to imagine himself being handed a sword and actually fighting a man to the death. There was no way he could ever do such a thing, just no way.
Just what have I got myself into? And how am I going to get out of this?

“Hey,” Danny said. “Why don’t we get some guns? A few AK-47s outta do the trick.”

There were plenty of nods.

“What’s an AK-47?” Peter asked.

“Y’know,” Danny replied. “An automatic rifle. A machine gun.”

“Oh, I’ve brought back guns over the decades,” Peter said. “But they don’t work after going through the Mist. The powder gets messed up or something. Flashlights and radios don’t want to work either. Even brought over a Gameboy—I really wanted one of those. But nothing electrical works here. I don’t know why, but I think the Mist gets to them. Mucks them up.”

“What? Gameboys don’t work here!” Danny’s shoulders slumped. “Ah man, no way. That just sucks.”

Nick scanned the length of the island. “Where are we exactly?” Nick asked, shaking his head. “I mean this island. There’s no way it can fit in New York Harbor. And even if it could, don’t you think someone would notice a big fluffy cloud drifting about?”

Peter made a face like such a thought had never even crossed his mind and looked to Tanngnost.

“I’ve often wondered the same,” Tanngnost said. “Many of us have. I know before the Mist returned, we could see the surrounding lands. The natives used to come to us on canoes, so they could see us too. Maybe the Mist does more than hide us, maybe it takes us into a different time and place. This would explain why time moves so much slower here. But this is merely a guess. I certainly can’t begin to understand the ways of Avallach.”

Then another thought struck Nick. “Wait,” he said. “The Lady controls the Mist, right?”

“Sure,” Tanngnost said. “She’s a water goddess. She’s one with all the bodies of water.”

“Then why doesn’t she lift the Mist?”

Peter looked horrified. “Lift the Mist? Then more men would come! Why would she ever want to do that for?”

“So the Flesh-eaters can leave.”
And,
Nick thought,
so I can go home.

“Leave?” Peter gasped, looking at Nick as though his head was screwed on backward. “The Flesh-eaters aren’t gonna leave. We could send them golden swans to carry them home and they’d only slaughter and eat them. Murder is all they know. They’re monsters!”

“Yes,” Nick said. “But if they’re killing Avalon, isn’t it worth the chance?”

“Maybe early on,” Tanngnost put in. “Perhaps then that might’ve worked, before the magic twisted them, before the new world became so populated. Maybe if the Lady had not been so consumed by grief she’d have done things differently. Maybe not. For the Lady is not all-knowing. Far from it. She sees the world in ancient terms. A creature ruled by sentiment and emotions. Regardless, it is too late now. The only way out is to destroy them before they destroy us. Can you see that, Nick?”

Nick nodded, but he wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure about a lot of things on this island.

“Enough talk,” Peter said, and his eyes flashed. “It’s time to turn you three into killers.”

“PETER,” NICK SAID.
“I need to talk to you.”

“Not now,” Peter replied. “We’ve much to do.”

Nick grabbed Peter’s arm. “No, it has to be now!”

Peter looked at the hand holding him, then into Nick’s eyes. He could see it, the darkness. “Careful, Nick.”

Nick let go. “Peter, please.”

Peter caught the hard look from Sekeu. He winked at her, then hung back with Nick as she and the others headed down the stairs.

“Peter, I need to get back.”

Peter stared at him absently.

“Back home,” Nick said.

“Home?” Peter’s nose wrinkled up. “You mean back to the
human
world?”

“My mother needs me.”

“You’re just homesick. That happens. Look, there’s a lot around here that takes getting used to. But—”

“No, it’s not that. I
have
to get back to my mother.
Have to!
She’s in danger. There are a couple of bad men living in the house with her. I told you about them—Marko, remember?”

“The drug dealer? I remember. I thought you said that was all your mother’s mess?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s in trouble. And if I don’t get back there…well, they’re going to hurt her. Maybe already have.”

Peter could hear the strain in Nick’s voice, could see the growing agitation in his eyes, caught the boy clenching and unclenching his fists.

“If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I have to get back. Okay? Okay?”

He’s on the edge
, Peter thought,
need to be careful. Maybe Sekeu’s right. Maybe it would be best to kill the boy before it went too far.
“Okay, Nick,” Peter said calmly. “We can work something out.”

Nick’s face flooded with relief. “Really? Good. Good. When can we go?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Nick narrowed his eyes at him.

“You have to do me a favor first,” Peter said. “You help me, then I help you. How does that sound?”

“You want me to fight.”

“No, you don’t have to fight. I’d never ask that of New Blood. But I need you there, need you to help in other ways.”

Nick stared at him. “This isn’t one of your games? One of your tricks?”

Peter acted wounded. “
Nick
, of course not.”

“I want you to swear. Swear on the Lady’s life that if I stand with you, you’ll help me get back through the Mist.”

“I swear,” Peter said, knowing very well the odds were against either one of them ever seeing the human world again. “Heck, I’ll go one better. I swear I’ll come home with you and help you take care of Marko.”

Nick searched Peter’s face, clearly seeking any sign of deceit. Peter now saw the resolve and determination, the same qualities that brought this boy through the Mist.
There’s deep strength in this boy,
Peter thought.
If anyone can beat the darkness it’ll be him.

“You would do that?” Nick asked. “Come back with me?”

“Only if you promise I get to be the one who slits their throats,” Peter said.

A grim smile snuck across Nick’s face.

Peter spat into the palm of his hand and stuck it out to Nick. “Deal?”

Nick spat in his own hand and they shook. “Deal.”

NICK, DANNY, CRICKET
, and Leroy gathered around Peter in the chamber. Peter hefted his short sword and twirled it from one hand to another. “Flesh-eaters are made of hard stuff,” he said, his voice dropping down low. “The magic has twisted them. Perverted them. Turned them into monsters, into…
demons
. Their skin has turned into thick scaly hides, hard to cut or penetrate. Their vitals have shriveled within their bodies, hard to find.” He clutched his stomach. “I’ve seen them take a stab in the gut and keep on coming. They’re strong too. If they catch hold of you they can rip your innards right out of your bugle hole. Sound scary? It shouldn’t. Because fighting is about being fast and clever, and they’re
neither
. The faster fighter will always beat the brute. So all you have to do is learn the right tactics, keep on your toes, and you will take the day. Shall we get started?”

The kids looked at each other, unsure.

“Good,” Peter said. “Then line up.”

Leroy, Nick, Cricket, and Danny all lined up.

“We’re not asking you to fight tomorrow. We need your help in other ways.”

There were several audible exhalations of relief.

“But war is unpredictable. So we’re going to show you some basic tricks in case you find yourself in a bad spot.”

Sekeu and Redbone handed each of them a short sword.

“In times past,” Peter said, “New Blood would never be given swords. But dire times call for dire measures. Swords and spears have always been our weapons of choice. The live wood of Avalon is too soft and fleshy for accurate arrows. We use short swords and light spears as they play best to our strengths of speed and cunning. And by cunning I mean we play the game our way. We use their height against them. We get in and out, low and fast. We do not engage them. We do not try to kill them. Our goal is to maim. We go for their weakest spots.” Peter pointed to his own limbs. “Their legs and arms, especially their ankles and knees. Ankles are thin and close to the ground, hard to protect. This,” Peter pointed to the long tendon on the back of his foot, “is your Achilles tendon. If you cut this tendon, they cannot walk. Once they can no longer walk, they’re done.”

Peter pointed to the straw dummies. “We’ve lots to show you. Find a straw man and let’s get started.”

Sekeu paired with Nick, Peter with Danny, and Redbone with Cricket.

Nick hefted his short sword, swung it about, getting the feel of it in his hand. The blade was heavy but well balanced.

“Okay,” Sekeu said, and pushed the straw man toward Nick.

Nick prepared himself. Keeping in mind all the things Sekeu had taught him about proper footwork, he sprang forward and back, timing his strikes. He found that many of the same principles of the staff and spear applied to swordplay. He was able to stab the dummy several times without losing his footing.

Sekeu raised an eyebrow. “Good footwork,” she said. Compliments were hard won from Sekeu, and Nick was surprised at how much her approval meant to him. He couldn’t help but smile. “But you must focus on using the edge of the sword. Not so much stabbing. A Flesh-eater can take many stabs and keep coming. If you must stab, be aware. Your blade can get caught in their hide. So it is best to make quick, strong strikes. You want to cut muscle, sever tendons.”

Sekeu spent most of the day with Nick. Nick found it impossible to think in terms of cutting flesh, of actually fighting, but instead lost himself in the craft of swordplay, determined to master the disciplines Sekeu was teaching. He’d be fighting for more than his life tomorrow; he’d be fighting to get back to his mom. Nick went at the straw man with a zeal and vigor he’d not known before, determined to learn all he could.

He also found himself amazed by how much his speed, dexterity, timing, even his endurance had improved. The hiking and training was some of it, but he knew the porridge was playing its part too.
Danny’s right,
he thought.
If we could bottle that gunk and take it back, we’d make a fortune.

Peter called for a break for the kids to don pads and helmets. They were given wooden swords wrapped in cloth.

As they waited for Danny to finish tying his pads, Nick watched the Devils sparring. He was still amazed at their mastery, but found he could now see the technique beneath the speed, could recognize the forms and tricks for what they were. Could sometimes predict or read a move before it was even acted upon.

“It’s one thing to hit a moving target,” Peter said, “quite another to hit a moving target that’s trying to hit you. Leroy,” Peter pointed to one side of the round sand pit. “Over there.”

Leroy hopped up and took his place.

“Danny, here.” Peter pointed to the opposite side of the ring.

Danny looked around as though there might be another Danny in the chamber.

“Move it, Danny,” Peter called and clapped. “Quick. Quick.”

Danny pushed himself up with a huff and shuffled over to his place.

“Leroy here is a Flesh-eater and it’s
your
flesh he’s after,” Peter said.

Leroy flared his eyes at Danny, grinned, showing all of his teeth, and nodded.