The Brat's Final Gambit

Niam met Salb’s mocking gaze with his own contemptuous stare. “See to Corey and I will take care of the saddle,” he told Bug, surprised at the steadiness in his own voice. “If he tries touching you, I’m going to bury his face in the ground.”

Salb laughed, but Niam noted that he came no closer. Instead, as Niam tightened the girth, making sure that Bug and Corey wouldn’t fall off on the ride home, Salb did nothing. He was only momentarily taken aback by the ferocity in his voice and would soon make his move. The most important thing to do was slow him long enough to get Bug and Corey of there.

“I heard you and your pathetic boss talking in front of the mayor’s office, Salb. Why’d he hire you to mess with us? If he had seen you run like scattered geese at the Vandin camp, he’d have you doing the only thing you’re good for—cleaning the crap out of his stables.”

As he spoke, Bug took Corey’s hands in hers and pulled them away from his ears. Her voice still quivered, but she coaxed him closer to the horse. Niam felt only spite for Salb. Because of people like him, Corey always had to have someone close to him whenever he came to town.

“You shouldn’t have gone up to the Vandin camp,” Salb sneered. “You shouldn’t have been spying on us like a filthy little sneak.”

“I wasn’t spying on you. I was just trying to smoke the rats out of the ruins of the old monastery.”

Salb casually looked around the stables. Niam didn’t like that. As Bug drew Corey out of his panicked state, Niam knew Salb was after something to get his hands on. Bode preferred his fists; Salb liked sharp objects. This was one of the things that made Salb the scarier one out of the two. And this was why Niam wanted to get Bug and Corey on the horse as quickly as possible.

“I don’t get it,” he said, hoping to get more talking and less looking out of Salb, “What have any of us ever done to Kreeth besides notice how ugly he is?”

“You’ve been sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong,” Salb said. “You and Bode, both.”

Niam laughed derisively. “Bode? You were up there pillaging through the Vandin’s stuff as much as he was.”

Salb smiled crookedly. “You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Niam frowned as Salb located the broken handle of an old broom and twirled it in his hands, feeling out its balance by giving it a practice swing or two.

“How far you’ve fallen,” Niam mocked. “Bet it’s nothing like your sword.”

Salb’s face turned scarlet. “I’ll settle up with your rich friend on that account later,” he said, and then looked up at Niam with ice in his eyes. “This will do to make sure you limp for a long, long time.”

Niam’s gut began to clench. He knew that it might come down to a fight soon. Behind him, Bug said, “Please help me.” Niam turned to see Corey holding the saddle and shaking his head as if the thing might bite him.

Salb laughed and began walking toward them, menacingly swinging the stick from side to side.

“You’re lying,” Niam said, “You’re just one of Bode’s flunkies. I only went up to the camp to make sure you weren’t going to breed with the sheep and make off without taking care of your responsibility once they gave birth. You wanted the things up there as much as Bode wanted to find whatever his daddy was after.” Salb stopped, and studied the two of them like a man at dinner might study food on a table. “Go on with it, then. Why were you there with Bode if it wasn’t to run away with your feathers singed?”

“I went to keep him from finding what he was looking for,” he bragged. “All I had to do was distract him into giving up so that he would pick up enough jewelry and silver to make himself happy and go home.”

Salb sabotaging Bode? Niam’s mind whirred.

“I did my job well.”

“What was he looking for, then?” he asked, but Salb shook his head.

“Not for you to know, Maldies. He didn’t know either. But you really do keep sticking you heads into things, you three.”

Corey looked up at Salb and his face turned scarlet. “Leave us alone!” He suddenly puffed his chest out at Salb and roared. “Leave us alone, leaves us alone, leave us ALONE!” On any other day Niam would have been proud of Corey. Coming out of the hiding place inside his head must have taken a superhuman effort. Bug, eyes darting from Corey to Salb and back again, looked ready to be sick.

Salb’s words dripped with scorn, “Must be hard without a post to beat your head against.”

Corey began to shake, clenching and unclenching his fists. Niam knew he was too unstable to handle if he exploded. If that happened, things would go from bad to worse, and Salb would hurt the boy. Niam couldn’t fight him with Corey in the middle, because if he did, Bug would try to help, and nobody was coming away unharmed. “Salb, this is between you and me. Let them go and we will settle things ourselves.”

“Oh?” Salb said, his voice silky and suddenly eager, as if he had made his selection at the dinner table and was ready to eat. “I think all of us can settle up here right now.” He looked down at Card, who moaned in pain. “You hurt my friend, Niam. I think I’m going to have to hurt your friends.”

“Stay away from them, Salb,” Niam warned.

“Don’t worry, Maldies, I’m going to hurt you worse,” Salb said, enjoying the effect his words were having on Corey and Bug.

Before Niam could say anything, a familiar voice cut in. “Hey Davin, look what I found—a dick with a stick!”

Niam never loved Maerillus as much as he loved his friend at that moment. Relief flooded over him. “Well, boys do like to play with their sticks,” Niam said without missing a beat.

Salb’s expression instantly went from excitement to hatred. He lifted his stick as if he was about to strike, but Davin stepped forward out of thin air and raised his finger into Salb’s face. “Do it and I will break your legs,” Davin flashed. Niam realized he must have been so close to Maerillus that the two of them remained hard to see until they were both right on top of Salb.

Another voice called out from the road as Jalt rushed out of the row of houses down the road at the edge of town. “The Wizard’s Hammer is coming! Get out of here!”

Salb looked down at Card as the hindrance he now was.

“Yeah,” Niam mocked. “Get your friend out of here.”

Salb looked at the stick as he lowered it. His eyes glowered as anger seethed within him.

“Get your friend out of here, Salb,” Davin said. His voice was rock hard and laced with violence.

“This isn’t over.”

“You keep saying that,” Maerillus said. “But it is for today.”

Jalt took in the scene before him and immediately ran off—away from Salb. “Your friend left you, just like you all left Bode,” Niam said. “Bunch of bloody cowards the whole lot of you.”

Niam saw forces moving within Salb. One part of him yearned to drive the stick into someone. The other part knew that flight was the only option now. For a moment it looked as if Salb still might do something, but he shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care. Instead of feeling relief when Salb turned to walk off, leaving Card to stir in agony in front of the stable, Niam felt only unease.

“Here comes Jolan Kine,” Davin said. His muscles, taut as springs, visibly relaxed the further away Salb got.

“What happened?” Maerillus asked.

“This piece of crap almost got Bug,” Niam spat toward Card.

Behind him, Bug continued trying to calm herself down. “Why weren’t you with Corey today?” Niam asked as Bug held the stirrup for her cousin. Shame was written in pink splotches across her face. Her eyes were still bloodshot from crying. “I was stupid, Niam,” she said in a small voice. “I had to take him with me to town if I wanted to see Madam Borset’s shop.”

Niam nodded. He knew how Corey would have reacted to the crowds—but Bug was right; it had been a dumb thing to do. Corey had his good days when he was almost like anyone else. He easily imagined Bug thinking a trip to town was okay on a good day.

“Well, what’s done is done.” Davin said, double-checking the girth now that Corey was seated in the saddle.

“Come one Madeline,” Maerillus said, using her name in the best stern big brother voice he could, “Let’s get you up in the saddle, too.”

Bug shook her head. “I think I need to walk.”

Niam spun around quickly when Jolan Kine suddenly screamed out, “Look out!”

Salb sprinted back into view from around the stable holding a pitchfork like a spear. His lips were pressed tightly together in concentration as he took aim. Niam followed Salb’s gaze, and leapt in front of his target without thinking, knocking Maerillus out of the way.

Corey began striking himself in the forehead again, bellowing, “Go away!” over and over.

Maerillus was down and Niam moved to launch himself toward Salb.

In an instant, the bully found another target and hurled the pitchfork with all of his might.

“No!” Niam shouted in fear, realizing he was too late to stop it.

The pitchfork flew, spinning almost lazily in an arc, and struck the horse Corey sat upon, burying one of its tines into the animal’s haunches. The horse gave a startled grunt and jerked its head up, pulling the reins from Bug’s hands. The startled animal hopped to the side and took off toward town. The quick movement threw Corey off balance as it began galloping away.

Bug’s cousin let out a terrified scream and jerked his hands up over his ears. The panicked horse kicked its rear legs out, and Corey went headfirst over its side.

In one horrifying moment, Niam knew what was going to happen. With his hands clutched over his ears, Corey had no way of softening the impact with the ground and landed too hard.

Bug screamed. Niam wanted to be sick. The momentum of Corey’s legs kept his body going in the direction of his fall. His head bent back at an impossible angle, and his scream stopped abruptly following an audible snap. “I told you I’d make you pay,” Salb shouted venomously.

Davin cursed and shot off after Salb, yelling to Kine to stop him—but Kine’s eyes were large and fixed on Corey’s unmoving body. “What are you doing?” he shouted at the Hammer as Kine began running toward Corey’s lifeless form.

“Wha—” Davin began, but his eyes found Corey in midword and he moaned, “Oh no!”

Kine knelt down as Bug began to talk. The pitch in her voice rose with each word. “What’s wrong with him? He’s not moving! Niam! He’s not moving!”

The Wizard’s Hammer raised his head and shook it grimly.

Bug’s voice cracked for one brief moment as Kine’s message settled in. Then she started to wail, and her words dug into Niam like daggers. “It’s my fault, all my fault!” Bug launched herself past Niam toward her fallen cousin, and Maerillus only barely managed to grab ahold of her. Niam went to her, where she struggled against Maerillus like a wildcat.

“Let me go,” she demanded hysterically. “Get your fingers off of me!” Maerillus winced as her fingernails dug deep furrows into his hands.

“Madeline . . .” he implored, “Bug. He’s gone. Please stop. You don’t want to go over there.”

“Yes I do!” she demanded. “Yes I do!”

Niam looked over at Kine and nodded his head. The Hammer understood, and while Bug was distracted with Maerillus, he gently repositioned the boy’s head so that it no longer bore death’s ghastly angle.

Niam put his hand on Bug and said, “Let her come see him.”

“But—” Maerillus sputtered.

“She needs this,” Niam said gently.

Tears welled along the crescent of his friend’s eyelids. “I—” Maerillus began but trailed off. He didn’t know what to say.

“I know,” Niam told him.

“It was instant,” Kine said. “At least there’s that.”

Bug walked over to Corey’s body, struggling mightily to contain her tears. “His eyes—they’re open still. They’re open but that’s not him anymore….”

“Maybe we should close them for him,” Niam said.

“It was such a short fall,” Bug wept. “He didn’t fall far at all, Niam . . . not far at all.”

Salb walked into the hovel he called home and began throwing his things into a sack. Before long, someone would be here looking for him and he knew he needed to be far away from town. Kreeth had better pay him and pay him good the next time they met. He had done as the man asked. He had made problems for the three snots—that much was sure. Across his face, a smile stretched the skin around his mouth so tightly that his lips hurt. He had always wanted to kill someone, always wanted to know what it felt like. There had really been nothing to it.

Noting at all.

All in all, Salb couldn’t see what the big deal was. He felt something easing within his chest, as if a burden he had worn all his life were being lifted. How many times had he wanted to run a knife through someone’s neck but held off out of fear? But now—now Salb nearly felt giddy. Too bad it had been the feeb and not Sartor or Maldies. Soon he would take care of that now that the burden was lifted.

So deeply locked in thought was Salb that he didn’t hear the intruder sneak up behind him until it was too late, and he spun around in time for a fist to crash into his face like a steel tip of a mace.

Salb hit the floor hard and scrabbled backward, away from his assailant. Bode emerged from the shadows, looking down at him with fury in his eyes. “Where did you come from?” he blurted out.

“I followed you,” Bode said flatly. “I saw what you did.”

“So?” Salb demanded, letting heated defiance creep into his voice. “I just did what we both know you’d like to do!”

Bode said nothing. His expression was unreadable. He looked down at him, and after a moment said, ”I ought to keep right on beating you. So, you were paid to stop me.” It wasn’t a question.

“It was Kreeth. He wanted me to do it. When he found out you’d been asking around about the Vandin camp, he came to me—told me he might need me to do some other things for him, that you might go snooping up there.”

“Who tipped him off? Who?” Bode demanded.

“Your father!” Salb shouted.

“I’m only going to ask you this one time,” Bode said, making a point of popping his knuckles as he did so. “What was Kreeth afraid I would find?”

“I don’t know!” Salb told him. “I really don’t!”

“Get out of my sight,” Salb,” Bode growled menacingly. “Get out of town and don’t ever come back.”

Salb picked up his bag, giving Bode a wide berth as he passed him.

Outside, the clouds overhead bled red around the setting sun. Salb moved swiftly off of the road onto a trail only he knew about. He knew a place where no one would bother him while he waited,

As he walked and made his plans, the soft impress of a foot caused him to spin around with his knife ready. “Bode—” he began as a firm hand grabbed his wrist and twisted it until sharp pain forced him to drop his small weapon.

His assailant’s voice was haggard. “Wrong Grimmel, boy.”

Salb was incredulous. “I thought you were in the Pit.”

“Just got out.”

Salb backed away from Bode’s father. His hair was unkempt and his clothes nearly rags. His wrists bore livid marks where irons had been fastened around them. “How?!” he stammered.

“I have friends.”

Salb eyed his knife, where it lay on the ground several feet away, calculating how quickly he could get to it.

“Pick it up,” Ravel commanded.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, keeping his body turned towards the man. “You look sick.”

Ravel coughed. “It will pass.”

“Well what do you want with me?” Salb demanded. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

Ravel laughed dryly. His hollow eyes held a feverish light. “I have work for us to do.”

This was the last thing Salb expected. “Work?”

“Work.”

“It pays?” Salb asked. “Because I need money.”

“Our boss will pay us well—pay both of us to deal with the people we hate.” The insistence burned in Ravel’s voice with white-hot intensity.

“What about Bode? What about your son?”

“What about him?” Ravel asked icily. Somewhere in the distance a howl pierced the evening sky. “We have to be going,” Ravel said, captivated by something in the plaintive, hungry wail. His eyes burned with a predatory light as he said reverently, “They’re calling for us.”