The Brat's Final Gambit

The moment Niam saw the fire’s glow rimming the uppermost branches of the tree line near little Madeline’s house, Davin had been struck by a powerful premonition of danger. The last time one hit him like this was the day they had walked to the Vandin camp. He had a feeling that whatever menace was afoot this night involved everyone, not just his two friends or Niam’s little protégé.

Something big was up. Something planned and something evil. A dangerous intent lay behind this. A looming tower of doom stood on a tottering base and was ready to topple over at the slightest breeze, and any mischance might prove disastrous.

“My girl has been stalked by a filthy minded pervert and now the person who killed her cousin,” he said between gritted teeth. “I won’t be absent the next time she needs protecting.” Besides the fear and anger written across Mr. Marie’s face, Davin saw that there was something else there as well—a deeply painful sense of failure. As the man saw it, his only daughter’s life had been threatened twice already by Card and Salb, and now a third time by the people behind the attempt to burn his family to death in their own home. Mr. Marie hadn’t been able to stop any of it from happening.

“And you won’t, sir,” Davin told him. “Some very bad people are trying to make us dance to their tune, and if we all go running off in different directions, they will succeed.”

Something in Davin’s action caused Mr. Marie’s expression to change. None of the anger abated, but the intensity of his sudden burst of fury ebbed a bit. “But my home . . .” he said in helpless frustration.

Davin’s voice was steady. His eyes caught Mr. Marie’s and held them. “Our homes were attacked, too. They’re gone, just like yours.”

Madeline’s father’s eyes widened.

“Everyone’s fine, sir. They got out just like your family. But the best thing for you to do instead of getting a blade is to go tell your neighbors who they need to look for. I think you need to be here to organize everyone’s search. That’s honestly the best thing you can do for your daughter.”

Mr. Marie looked back to his home for a moment, and Davin worried for a second that he had failed, but then he nodded and a steady resolve took the place of some of his ire. “There’s something about you, boy. Something in you and your friends that I can’t put my finger on.” Then he shook his head. “I was filled up with steam ready to burst, but now—”

“Now you know what you need to do,” Davin said reassuringly.

When Mr. Marie looked back at Davin, he wore the anguished expression of a lost girl’s father. “You find my girl and bring her back,” he said.

“We will,” Davin assured him.

As they trotted away, Niam echoed Mr. Marie’s sentiment as he said, “I’ve got to find her, Davin. She’s my responsibility. Bug got drawn into this because of me.”

Davin shook his head. “Card would have gone at her anyway.”

“Faugh!” Niam spat, then said, “Get Maerillus and as many people as Mr. Sartor has to spare. I’m going to check for Bug in all of her favorite hiding places—Hopefully she’s just in a barn loft somewhere.”

Davin grabbed Niam’s reins before he drew away. “Don’t take on Salb by yourself. He’s dangerous, Niam.”

“Left my staff in the house. I don’t have anything with me,” Niam replied grimly. “I guess all I can do is find Bug and run.”

Davin didn’t like that. Not one bit. Especially since trouble had a way of finding them, and that went twice for Niam. Davin forced his friend to meet his eyes. “I’m serious, Niam. People are going to get hurt tonight.” Then he firmly stressed each word that followed. “Don’t. Fight. Salb.”

Niam met his gaze with an indeterminate expression. Davin sighed. If he had a copper penny for every expression that flitted across Niam’s face he knew he would be as rich as a king. “I’ll figure something out,” he said with resignation. “I always manage something, don’t I?”

His friend’s tone worried him. Davin wished he could stick with Niam, but along with the premonition of danger came the certainty that he needed Maerillus for what was coming. “Just stick close,” Davin said.

“The barns,” Niam replied, chewing the edge of his lip. Then he looked at Davin and said with a shiver, “This scares me. I don’t know if any of us are ready. There’s an energy building. It’s vile and—” Niam stopped as if he couldn’t find the words, so Davin finished for him.

“Evil?”

“I was going to say hungry,” Niam said, and with that he spurred his horse into a swift canter toward the closest barn just on the other side of the hill. Davin turned his horse toward the sartor manor, which sat waiting atop its hill like a lighthouse in the night. He gave his horse rein and urged it into a gallop.

No one was on the road as the sound of four hooves pounded the ground. Darkness wrapped around Davin like a tunnel. In front of him was the friend he needed to get, and behind him was the friend and a little girl he needed to help, and beyond all of this there was something building in the air, like a vanguard of clouds preceding a line of fierce storms.

Davin did not notice the men in dark cloaks until the moment that they attacked him. So dark were their garments that a man all but materialized out of the night swinging a heavy staff at that struck his ribs with a jarring impact.

“He’s past me,” the assailant yelled. Davin cut off a surprised yelp and swung his leg out of the saddle. Pain shot up from his side as he leapt from the horse. Dropping to the ground, he heard the release of a bowstring and the thwack of an arrow striking a tree somewhere deep in the forest. Davin landed and didn’t have time to think. He knew he needed to tap into his new ability if he was going to survive. Deep within him an ocean fathomless and still waited. All he needed to do was to focus on it for a moment and accept it.

And accept it he did.

Running footsteps approached; somewhere in the dark another man dressed as the night readied another arrow. Davin felt a sensation of something surging into him. Every stitch off his being trembled, stretched, and loosened . . . and finally snapped.

A smile formed at the edges of his lips. All around him time slowed to a standstill. He felt himself floating in a point of absolute stillness. The night sky was veiled in a dense canopy of clouds, and the air was sharp and motionless, a burning cold lay across the land. Nothing seemed to move. Except Davin knew that to his right one attacker threw his staff down and drew a blade to ready himself if his partner didn’t get an arrow into Davin first. The man may have been experienced, but his partner only needed to find a good line of sight in order to aim his bow. The archer had no need to close the distance between them. Despite this, Davin knew he had to stop them. These killers could not be allowed to go loose when and hurt other people on the estate.

Davin felt the ocean of power thrumming through him as time slowly sped up. He knew what he had to do. The man with the bow was now the closest one to him, nocking his arrow and preparing to aim. Where the darkness had worked for his attackers as Davin barreled down the road on horseback, now it was his ally. Davin sprinted across the snow-covered road, keeping low. An unmistakable tufting of bowstring snapping taut clearly sounded in the dark. Davin dove and rolled as another arrow missed him. The killer cursed as he heard Davin spring up and continue into the wood line.

“He’s run for the woods!” the assassin growled.

Davin heard the other man’s response, which sent a shiver of anger rippling through him. The attacker’s voice was meant to go unheard, but Davin’s sharpened senses picked it up. “If it’s one of those three boys, we’ll get bonuses.”

Turning in a slow arc, Davin deliberately dragged his feet as he wove between trees and grabbed the first hefty stick he found. Then he continued to plow a path deeper into the woods, keeping as strait a line as possible. The sounds of feet moving in clumsy pursuit followed.

“Come out and you won’t be hurt,” a gravelly voice called into the darkness. Davin was certain that the men wanted to remain close to the road in case more travellers ventured down its dark path. They did not know who they were following or who they had just tried to kill. If they were also on the lookout for him and his two friends, then one goal must be to attack or slow down anyone moving across this part of the estate.

Why?

Davin did not like not knowing the answer to that. Slowly, he came to a stop and dodged behind a tree as quietly as possible. “He’s trying to hide,” he heard one of the men whisper. Davin exaggerated the force of his breathing. If he was to be game, he wanted to leave them a tempting trail to follow.

“He’s this way,” a grunting voice said eagerly. More loudly, the same voice called out, “Easier for you just to show yourself. We had the wrong person. You’re safe now, friend.”

As they approached, the false assurances continued. Davin listened and continued to breathe heavily. The second killer whispered, “This one’s about to wet himself.”

As their approach slowed and became more cautious, Davin slowed and quieted his breathing, counting their steps. Slowly, he drew his arm back, sure that he had the weight and the balance of the stick properly gauged.

“How far do you think he ran?” one of the men whispered. “I don’t hear him breathing no more.”

Davin stepped out from behind the tree and said loudly, “About six paces, you pile of dung.” He snapped his arm out and threw the stick, adding a vicious spin to it as it left his hand. The men looked up at him in surprise, and even in the dark, Davin saw their eyes widen. Then the man standing to the left had only enough time to give out a small cry of alarm before the wood struck him squarely between the eyes. Davin was moving before the stick even had time to strike its target. The killer’s head whipped back and he fell while his partner gave an involuntary leap to the side. Davin snarled and bore done on his target.

The assassin looked up at him, cursed, and lifted his sword to strike. As he began to swing, Davin threw himself down into a sliding kick. His foe swung. His sword passed harmlessly over Davin’s head as he put his weight and momentum behind his attack. Davin’s foot connected with the killer’s knee, and a sharp snap followed. Davin looked up as the man’s face twisted in shock and pain. He dropped his sword as he toppled. Davin rolled and was up in an instant holding the assailant’s blade in his hand. The attacker writhed on the ground, spitting vile obscenities as Davin leveled the man’s own sword at his face.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

The wounded man pulled his arm out from beneath himslef, and Davin realized that he must have reached into a pocket as he went down because his hand held a small object that glowed softly in the starless darkness of the night.

“I’ll see you dead, first!” the man spat. Despite his intense pain, the killer began fumbling with the object in his hand. Davin plunged his sword into the man’s throat before he was able to complete the act. The sword sliced true. A series of wet gurgling coughs followed the killing stroke.

Wrinkling his nose at the gory sight, Davin cautiously stepped on the man’s outstretched arm, using his boot to turn the hand over, wary of the object frozen in the dead man’s grip. Davin pried the corpse’s fingers apart with the flat edge of the sword, and the object it contained revealed itself to be a vial filled with a glowing greenish substance that pulsed as if alive. Davin squinted as he gazed into the vial’s contents. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw something stirring and moving within. A shiver ran down his back. As he warily bent to retrieve it, he felt as if he was reaching for a venomous snake or a deadly red-bellied spider and thought better of taking ahold of the thing.

The lifeless attacker wore a slightly bulging pouch that had partially shifted to the side as he fell and now protruded beneath his left shoulder. Instead of fetching the vial right away, Davin chose to turn the body to the side in order to search the pack. With any luck he might discover the identity of the ruffian and something to use as a barrier between his own fingers and the mysterious vial. The sack contained several lengths of coiled rope and eyeless hoods. “Just what were you planning to do?” Davin softly asked the still body. It looked as if he, Maer, and Niam might be valuable enough to someone to be taken dead or alive. Great Lord, Davin thought, a Necromancer, the Count of Kalavere, and a corrupt Wizard’s Hammer . . . how many enemies have we made?

With that thought, the connection he held with his power trembled within him. Davin forced himself to focus on what he was about. He rolled the corpse over and removed the strap from around the dead man’s shoulder. It came free easily, and he retrieved one of the hoods and used it to scoop the vial up, then rolled it tightly in the cloth and stuffed it into another hood. Wrapping it tightly in one of the ropes, Davin tied the ends off as securely as he could manage. Nearby, the second assassin remained unconscious and still where he had fallen in the cold carpet of snow.

The smell of wood smoke clung low to the ground, and here and there patches of thicker smoke drifted in wispy patches from the direction of Maerillus’s home. As Davin rounded the side of the building and came to the back entrance, he saw a lot of movement as servants and staff hurried among several smoking buildings. Outside, Maerillus’s sister Lexa directed the efforts to staunch the last of the flames around them. When she saw him, she nodded her head quickly, and her voice held all of the severity and sharp command that her mother possessed. “I suppose you’re here to find my brother,” she said crisply, and then looked him squarely in the eyes. “You can’t have him, Hapwell.”

Davin pulled his horse to a halt a few feet away from her. “I need him, Lex. There’s trouble back toward the beekeeper’s barns.”

Davin was sure he heard her mutter a curse beneath her breath. “There’s trouble everywhere tonight.”

“Someone set the Maries’ home on fire,” Davin told her as he dismounted. “This is bad.”

Lexa’s voice softened as she responded. “Please tell me they’re okay. That family has been through enough.”

Davin nodded. “They made it out in time. Madeline’s run off and the guy who killed her cousin is after her.”

Lexa shook her head. “Whatever you three are involved in, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re in it deep.”

Davin looked down for a moment to avoid her hawk-like glare. Alexandretta was tall and elegant, almost statuesque. Her face held the same formidable beauty of Andromeda, though her dark hair flared with auburn highlights. Where her mother’s chest was large and excellently proportioned, and hips softly rounded with a maturity that hinted at an ample fertility, Lexa’s frame was more slight and her chest smaller but proportioned with the kind of symmetry that lent her figure a mysterious, aqualine elegance. Andromeda was the picture of matronly power, a woman of a certain age who wore that age beautifully. Maerillus’s sister was the image of rapieresque grace. She had a quick mind and a sword for a tongue when roused to anger.

Tonight, however, she was just tired.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Davin said quickly, realizing how tired he felt, too. Looking around, he frowned and asked, “Where’s the rest of your family?”

Lexa’s face became set in worry. “My brothers should have retuned from town by now, and mom and dad were attacked. That’s where Maerillus is now. He’s seeing to their security.”

“They okay?”

Lexa nodded. “I think so. They were drugged. Maerillus caught two men in their room. Dad was roughed up, but Maer killed one man . . .” She stopped as a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and gave a hard laugh. “Casey got the other.”

Davin felt his eyebrows arch in surprise. “You mean the old—“

“—That’s exactly who I mean.”

“Impressive.”

“They got to my house and Niam’s as well, Lex,” Davin said darkly.

Lexa let out a long exhalation. “Fire’s are all but out here . . . is everyone okay? How is Niam?”

“I got my family out in time, but if I hadn’t gotten to Niam he wouldn’t have made it out,” Davin said. He watched as Lexa’s face went blank again and she visibly suppressed a shudder. Everyone knew Niam had a crush on Lexa, but it was a subject she forcibly avoided and Maerillus pretended did not exist. Niam knew good and well that he and Alexandretta Sartor came from two different worlds, and thankfully the childhood infatuation he had harbored since he was small finally faded sometime in the past.

Davin held back a response when her voice dropped and she said, “You watch out for him. You watch out for my brother, too.”

Davin nodded his head, and Lexa recovered herself. As he turned to go, she called after him. “Look out for yourself as well, Hapwell. Find Bug and get everyone back safely or I’ll make you pay.”

Davin grunted. Sometimes he never knew when to take her seriously or when she was joking. He did note that she used Niam’s preferred nickname for little Madeline. On any other day that might be interesting to mull over, but not today. Davin made his way into the Sartor manor to find Maerillus. He knew that once he did, their night was only just beginning.

Niam moved through the snow with a painful limp as distant voices behind him called out urgently for Bug. An hour earlier, as Niam worked his way ahead of the rest of the searchers, a blood-curdling scream sent Niam galloping back across the field above the smoldering house. He arrived to find a middle-aged woman weeping inconsolably as a ring of grim-faced men stood in a circle looking down at a ghastly sight.

At first, Niam thought he might throw up. Peering between onlookers, he caught a glimpse of a prostrate form covered in a red so dark that it nearly seemed black. He managed to push his way through the men and women and looked down. A pretty girl with ribbons tied in her hair lay with a hideous gaping wound in her neck that lolled open like a dog’s mouth. A terrible relief surged through Niam as he gazed at her sightless eyes: Thankfully, this was not Bug. Had she run off before or after this happened?

Niam gave the horse he had “borrowed” to the poor girl’s family to allow them to carry her back home. A stab of sorrow stuck in his heart as he pushed away the image of his frightened little friend running into the dark to hide. Now why wasn’t she answering?

Niam wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that. He didn’t even want to entertain the possibility that she had met a similar fate. Instead, he pushed it out of his mind. He winced each time he let loose with a chain of hoarse coughs. Hopefully this was the last time he would ever find himself in a burning building. Niam stood still every now and then to massage his upper thigh. Although his shin bore the trall’s clawmarks, the pain radiated all the way up the length of his leg, and the cramps were getting worse as he walked with exaggerated steps through the snow. Only the drift of a sluggish breeze swaying the upper boughs of trees produced any sound aside from the calls for Bug, but it was enough to keep his nerves on edge. The crepitus of trunks sheathed in thick frost groaning as they swayed was punctuated by shards of ice breaking free of high branches and falling like glass to the ground. These constant and crackling crashes interfered with his ability to listen for anyone that might be creeping up in the dark. Salb was somewhere out here, lurking.

Every sound was suspect. The more barns and sheds Niam checked that came up empty, the greater the tension within him rose. Now every sound hinted at more than ordinary causes. Each snapping twig belied an unseen attack coming at him; every time a sagging tree limb grew tired and dumped it’s accumulation of snow and ice onto the ground, Niam heard the sinister thud of an assailant dropping from overhead to pounce and strike. He felt vulnerable without his staff.

One more barn lay at this end of the Sartor estate, but when Niam cast a cautious glance behind himself, he noticed that in the loft of one of the barns closer to the Maries’ smoldering home, a small candle burned with hardly enough light to be noticed. Frowning, he stopped. The final barn lay several hundred feet away. Numerous paths led through the snow in its direction, but that didn’t mean anything because workers had used every building on this end of the property since the last snowfall. Should he check it out just to be sure or let one of the searchers look into it? Every moment that passed left another moment free for Salb to locate his little friend.

“Oh bile!” Niam growled, and then turned back toward the barn with the pale light dancing in its sharply angled loft. The Marie family’s neighbors were so spread out, looking into every shed, haystack, and shelter that they might not make it to the building anytime soon. He also knew that in their haste they probably weren’t going to bother climbing up and checking the lofts. After all, he hadn’t done that, figuring instead that when Madeline heard him calling her name she would respond.

What was she—or anyone—doing up there with a candle or lantern? Bug was certainly capable of lighting a fire, especially if she had a flint on hand. Around barns, kindling was never in short supply. Yet why hadn’t she responded to anyone? Niam ’s gut clenched. He knew that he might not like the answer. The thought occurred to him to call for someone to help him, but he doubted anyone would hear his voice if he tried.

Davin’s warning to avoid a fight with Salb sounded in the back of his mind almost as loudly as if Davin were standing right there. Oh, don’t worry . . . I’m just going to get Bug and get out of this, Niam addressed the worry quietly. At that moment, he felt as if someone were watching him. Looking around into the darkness that contrasted sharply with the white snow, the tranquility of the cold evening did not match the sensation that somewhere a hidden pair of eyes bore into him. Niam’s stomach let loose with a fluttering set of dull aches, and this was rapidly followed by a familiar sickness that came to him like an unexpected scent of death on a sweet spring breeze.

Sorcery.

Near, but not near enough to reveal any details. Not yet. But Niam knew that whatever it was, this kind of evil always made itself known. The barn stood close, and the small finger of light flickering in its loft might as well have been witch’s finger beckoning him forward into her foul lair. Shivering and terrified, Niam willed his feet to move forward. Whatever waited there for him would not wait forever, and he had to get Bug to safety. Neither the sense of black sorcery, nor the danger facing him worried him as much as the fact that Bug had not answered.

Finally, he stood before the barn’s front doors and saw that they were partially ajar. The feeling of sickness was stronger here. His stomach shifted uncomfortably and his head began to throb. The smell of livestock hit him as he entered its dark interior. Aside from the feeble light entering through open doors at the opposite end of the aisle, the meager light spilling over the loft above only made it seem darker inside. Leading up to its source, a rickety ladder was propped against the lip of the floor above, and it looked like this was the only way up. Movement from every direction filled the building as animals in large rustled impatiently in their stalls. Niam moved as quietly as possible into the gloom, taking care not so much to remain undetected—for he was certain that his presence was expected—as to increase the likelihood that he might hear someone before they had a chance to slit his throat.

Niam crept forward, and even the crunch of wood shavings littering the floor annoyed his jangled nerves. Suddenly a flicker of motion whirred toward him, and he reacted instantly. Niam stepped aside quickly, grabbing the oncoming figure, flinging it into a spiraling crash against the opposite wall with a loud, surprised squeak.

The hasty move threw Niam off balance, and as he stopped himself from falling, he barked a surprised, “Bug?!”

The figure that had collided with the wall scrambled up with a pained cry. “Niam!” she gasped and flew into his arms.

“Why haven’t you answered anyone? Every person on this side of the estate is looking for you!” Niam growled, immediately regretting his harsh tone.

“It’s him! He’s been following me!” she moaned.

“Where is he?” Niam asked, fighting back the rising sense of worry.

Bug shook her head. “I don’t know! I hid behind a feed bin while he looked through the barn. He went upstairs and lit a lantern. I heard him laughing, and I think he went back out.”

That wasn’t good. Niam immediately scanned the aisle for anything he could fight with. The only thing on hand was a wide, thickly bristled broom that was sure to stop the most ferocious dust bunny. Niam took it up in his hands, and as he opened his mouth to tell her to run, he never got the chance to finish. Bug screamed as a heavy weight collided with them from the left. Pain shot up his hurt leg as he was flung to the ground.

Bug screamed again.

Niam’s head began to pound and he wanted to be sick as he scrambled up in time to see Salb holding an arm around Bug’s throat. He quickly noted that Salb’s fingers were deeply stained as if a bottle of ink had spilled across his hands, and he carried the old, rusty sword that Maerillus had made him throw over the bridge the day they chased him from the old abbey’s ruins. Salb’s hold on Bug tightened, and Bug’s terrified face darkened as her eyes filled with panic.

“You’re choking her!” Niam yelled.

Salb’s voice was indifferent. “So?”

Hatred blossomed like a fiery fountain within Niam. He levered the broom beneath his foot and snapped the wide fan of bristles off and then raised it, preparing to attack.

Salb shrugged, lifted his leg slightly, and brought his foot down on Bug’s ankle. She shrieked in pain. Salb casually pushed her aside and sneeered, “I’ll deal with you when I’m done.”

Niam moved in quickly as Salb smoothly drew his blade from its scabbard. Instead of attacking, he waited until Salb brought his weapon around in an ill-timed slice and flicked his stick upward, knocking Salb’s blade aside. Niam rammed his shoulder into Salb and brought the stick around with all of his strength, snapping it as it connected with his attacker’s temple. Salb fell aside, and Niam moved to kick the maggot, but Bug’s terrified whimpering stopped him short. She lay on her side with her knee drawn up to her chest clutching her foot.

For the moment, Salb was down. Niam looked desperately for the sword, but couldn’t find it. That meant Salb had fallen on top of it, or it had fallen into the hay and now lay hidden beneath it. Niam knew he needed to get Bug out of the barn and into the open where he could yell for help as he carried her away.

Kneeling at her side, he quickly asked, “Can you move it?”

“It hurts, Niam!”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said. Salb began moving and swearing rabidly. Bug’s eyes flashed in his direction with a wounded animal’s fear. She looked up, held her hand out, and nodded her head. Niam drew her up, and she cried out as weight shifted onto her hurt leg. Niam’s own leg burned and his head and stomach only seemed to make it worse. “Put your weight on me.”

To Niam’s stunned disbelief, Salb began picking himself up off of the ground. A grumbling, bestial sound issued from his lips. The hairs on the nape of Niam’s neck stood on end. Salb slowly stood erect. Niam stared. There was no way anyone could have recovered from a blow to the head that quickly. When Salb reached up and drew his hood back, Niam gaped in alarm. His voice sounded harsh as he asked Bug urgently, “Do you think you can make it outside?”

“No,” Bug said pitifully.

“Do your best,” Niam snapped.

Bug began whimpering as she placed her weight against stall door and began hopping toward the entrance at the other end of the barn. Niam now knew why Salb had managed to regain his senses so quickly. When Bode’s former ally snarled and faced him, he wore a feverish expression that was filled with hysteria and completely homicidal. But that was not the worst of it. Even in the barn’s dim interior, Salb’s eyes seemed to gather up what meager light spilled from above, amplify it, and reflect it back the way an animals eyes glinted in firelight.

Salb read the expression on Niam’s face and chuckled. It was the dreadful sound of someone surrendering to depravity. “You fool,” Niam said in a breathless voice.

“Oh, you’re not the only one now who has powers,” he taunted. “I’m impressed you didn’t just run like the runt you are.”

“You’ve sentenced yourself to death,” Niam spat. “What he’s done to you always destroys the idiots who undergo it.”

Salb shrugged. “I’m not Jalt,” he drawled as if he were savoring the moment.

“The man who did this to you is using you. I’ve seen more than one person he changed. They all had to be put down like rabid dogs, Salb.”

Salb’s face registered only an instant’s doubt, but he went on with a grotesquely satisfied voice. “I asked for it, Maldies. When this is finished, I will be able to make the change at will, and nobody will keep me from snuffing insects like you out of existence.”

Behind him, Bug had only made it part of the way down the aisle. Niam knew that the only thing he could do was stall for time, but Salb was becoming more unhinged with each passing moment. “So that’s it?” Niam asked. “You asked for this so you could be a better bully? I can’t believe someone like you sold yourself so cheaply. There’s got to be more to it than that.”

Salb’s lucid eyes darted about more rapidly than a human’s eyes ought to. “There’s a change coming, and when it does, those of us who bring it about are going to be powerful,” he bragged.

“Joachim will just have you hunted down,” Niam cut him off. “He’ll hound you down like he ran off your master.”

Salb laughed contemptuously. “You don’t know anything, Maldies. Your precious Count and Wizard’s Hammer won’t live to see the sunrise, and neither will you.”

Before Niam could say anything else, Salb moved to retrieve his blade from the ground, but Niam was ready for it. “Hey Salb!” he shouted. The moment Salb looked up Niam kicked hay and sand into his face.

Salb reacted with fury. He screamed and began trying to get the sharp, stinging bits of dirt from his eyes. Niam sprinted forward and as Salb swung his fist at his head, Niam tried the dive-and-roll he had seen Maerillus use at sword practice . . . only instead of rolling, Niam’s face struck the ground and he crumpled over. Above him, Salb’s fingers dug at the grit in his eyes and he cursed Niam, kicking at him blindly. Niam managed to dodge out away in time. His hands shot out and he seized Salb’s sword and wrestled it from his grasp. Niam danced back and delivered a desperate backhanded swing at Salb. He felt a flash of gratification as the blade struck flesh. His opponent howled in rage and pain and lunged forward. Niam rolled onto all fours and launched himself away, out of Salb’s reach and saw a three-inch slice in Salb’s pant let already turning red with blood.

“You’ll pay for this!” Salb bellowed. “You and that girl!”

Niam began backing rapidly toward Bug. If he carried her outside and fended Salb off long enough for help to arrive, they might have a chance. The only problem was that while Salb’s cunning was enflamed by his anger, Niam had no idea how Kreeth’s sorcery had affected him.

“Come on!” Niam cried out to Bug. “Let me carry you!”

“Look out!” Bug shouted.

Niam whirled around in time to see Salb advancing on them. “You hurt my eyes!” he screamed savagely. “I’ll kill you for that!”

“You’re really going to hate this!” Niam said, and kicked another stinging cloud into Salb’s face.

Salb’s voice rose in pitch, but he didn’t stop. “Bastard!”

Thinking quickly, Niam flung a stall door open, releasing a dozen frightened goats into the walkway. Salb stumbled over an animal and landed on his hands and knees while Niam backpedaled, dragging a whimpering Bug with him.

“Two can play at that game, Maldies,” Salb said venomously. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a pouch, and flung it with an underhanded toss at Niam’s head.

A fine spray of dark powder bloomed out, and before Niam managed to fully turn his head, some of the pouch’s contents billowed into his eyes. At first Niam just blinked it away, but as he continued to haul Bug closer to the door, Salb sat up wearing a triumphant smile Niam did not like at all.

That was when he noticed an unpleasant tingling sensation working itself around the edges of his eyes. He blinked. Blinked again. And the tingling sensation steadily increased and transformed into what he thought felt like a strong sunburn.

“Oh no,” Niam moaned.

Bug let out a fearful cry. “What did he do?”

Niam’s heart pounded in his chest. His eyes began to water, and the rims of his eyelids became inflamed. Between squinted eyes, Niam looked behind them just in time to avoid tripping over several broken plows lying upside down with their blades pointing into the air. Niam thanked his stupid that luck he managed to miss them. Across the hall, the loft ladder inclined upward. He knew they were not going to hold out long enough to find help. Davin and Maerillus were not going to arrive in time to save him—not this time. Not Bug.

And Niam fought back despair.

A sharp thud accompanied by the startled padding of tiny hooves told Niam that Salb was kicking the goats out of his way. He was coming. If something did not change soon, Salb was going to kill them.

“Up the ladder, Bug! Do it now!”

“But I don’t think I can!” she sobbed.

“You have to, Bug.”

Her response was no more than a quivering, “Okay.” Then Niam heard the creaking of wood as she fought back gasps of pain with each ascending step. Niam clutched the sword in one hand and began climbing the rungs behind Bug. Above him, hay rustled as Bug made it to the top of the climb. Niam scooted after her.

“Hurry Niam,” she panted. The terror in her voice was almost physical.

“Oh my,” Salb giggled gleefully. “Look what I’ve managed to tree!”

“Go away!” Bug screamed. “You killed my cousin! Go away and just die!”

Niam’s heart sank. He felt the ladder’s balance shift as Salb put his weight on the bottom rungs.

“No you don’t Maldies,” Salb chided. “You’re not pulling the ladder up after you. I’ve got plans for the two of you. And when I’m done, I’m going to make good on my promise to Sartor.”

Niam’s eyes were nearly swollen shut, but he scrambled the rest of the way up. “Go to the back,” he hissed at Bug as he felt more of the smoke and soot coming up in his throat. “Go the other end,” he coughed. “Climb out across the rafters.” Niam intended to hold Salb off for as long as possible. Maybe they could fend off Salb’s relentless pursuit with the sword.

Maybe.

But Niam was nearly sightless. “I’ve waited for this for a good while now,” Salb gloated. “Maybe you’ll get to see that stupid feeb when you’re dead,” he said, and then imitated Corey by hitting his head against the ladder’s rungs. “I just can’t take it anymore!”

“Stop it!” Bug screamed. “Stop it! Leave us ALONE!”

“Get back, Bug!” Niam hissed. He had to get her to move back. He grabbed ahold of her, pulling her with him while the sword he held dragged the floor uselessly. Somehow, Bug wiggled free and scampered away. The wood of the ladder grated against the lip of the loft as Salb came up after them.

“Bug!” Niam couldn’t say more because his body was racked by a harsh series of coughs.

“I hoped you would make it out of your house,” Salb told him eagerly. “I followed you . . . all of you, waiting for my chance . . ."

. . . Niam felt for Bug, groped to find her, to pull her back . . .

“. . . and when that sow slowed me down tonight and I had to silence her, I saw your little girlfriend running from the little cookout I had planned for her . . . I knew that if you lived, you would come find her!”

“Go Bug!” Niam felt desperate. Images of what Salb would do to her flowed through his mind. His head pounded. Sorcerous energy clung to Salb with the noxious residue of decay. Niam couldn’t see anyhting. Every time he tried to blink, his eyes became so gummed up that he had to blink again. Desperately, Niam wiped his eyes with his fingers and let out a pained grunt. The best he managed to gain was a smeared, bleary, waxy view of the loft.

“They’ll stop you Salb. You’ll be hanged in the Pit for this, if Joachim doesn’t take off your head first,” Niam coughed.

“I told you, runt—Joachim’s not going to be here tomorrow!” Salb crowed, then began repeating in a sadistic, singsong voice, “I know things that you don’t know!”

Bug wept and yelled out, “Get away from us!”

Salb chortled with glee at Bug’s reaction. He was almost there. Niam stopped inching his way back. He didn’t want to try using the sword blinded as he was. If Salb took it away from him, he and Bug were as good as dead. Now the killer was too close. Flight was no longer an option. He had to try to fend Salb off long enough to make it onto the rafters. If he could do that, keep Salb at bay long enough, Bug could make it to an opening and scream loudly enough to alert the searchers.

Salb continued to goad Bug with zeal, whipping Bug into a froth of enraged fear. “Card should have had his way with you, you little turd. Too bad I can’t kill the feeb again. I’d do it slower and let you watch,” he said silkily.

Bug howled in grief. Niam had never heard anything more pathetic in his life. He crawled sightlessly toward the edge of the loft, stretching his hand before him to find Bug, to pull her back so it would just be him facing Salb. “Crawl back,” Niam coughed. “Get back,” he pleaded. “Please get back over the rafters.”

Hot tears stung his face where they contacted the powder Salb had thrown at him. But they were tears born of desperation, not just of the stinging material in Salb’s pouch. “Please go, Bug,” he begged, but he could no longer hear his own voice over Bug’s lone, bellowing grief.

Salb’s hands reached the top rung, but he was on a roll now, laughing as each tormenting word was a slap across Bug’s face. “Your cousin was a simpleton and I did the town a favor. Do you think your parents will be happy when you’re gone?” Bug’s fists clenched as she writhed in inner agony. Niam’s hand finally found her hip. Bug’s Body shook as if she were in the throes of a seizure.

“I know!” crowed Salb. “I’ll save you for last and let you watch while I do Maldies!”

As soon as Salb spoke those words, Bug let out an inhuman wail. To Niam it sounded like the pent up howl of ten tortured souls bent by anger and horror until they exploded. The maniacal jeering grin on Salbs face froze and Bug stood up and began kicking him.

“Stop it you brat!” he snarled. “I’m going to make it hurt worse!” he spat.

Bug continued to kick like a feral animal. She was no longer a little girl. Her eyes were slits and her lips drawn back, bearing her teeth in feline fury.

“Stop it!” Salb screamed.

“Die!” Bug bellowed. “I want you to die! Die! Die! Die!” Each time she repeated the words, her voice became increasingly guttural . . . inarticulate. Bug swung at Salb. Clawed. Her fingers dug into his face and he screamed his rage back, but Bug’s fury was greater. She struck him hard in the nose. His curses and warnings cut off abruptly. Bug jabbed her fingers into his eyes, and Salb shifted his weight back defensively. The ladder lurched dangerously. With one great heave, Bug grabbed ahold of the last foot of ladder sticking above the loft’s edge and shoved it forward with all of her might.

“Leave us alone!” she shrieked, more like an animal than a girl.

The ladder moved away from the loft’s edge in an almost lazy arc. “No!” Salb shouted. “No!” As the ladder reached the apogee of its arc and passed the critical point of balance, it fell away, spilling Salb to the ground below where his scream was terminally cut short. The only sound in the barn was Bug’s weeping. The barn floor below held only the noises of animals. All else on the ground was still and dead. Niam looked over the edge. He had to blink several times and caught the image of Salb’s motionless form lying across the broken plows, their blades poking through his chest.

“Come here, Bug,” Niam said, hauling her into his lap, where he began rocking her. “It’s over for you, now.”

Bug buried her head in his chest and wept. Niam held her tightly, silently, and just rocked. He knew that once someone finally checked the barn that none of this was over. Not by a long shot.