The Brat's Final Gambit

Niam’s feet pounded the earth as he tore through the forest, leaping over fallen trees and nimbly dancing around briar thickets. Behind him, the rough voices of Bode’s gang followed. Echoes of the brutal things they were going to do to him rang through the trees.

Niam ducked beneath a low branch and turned sharply to the right. If he planned his direction right, he should be just on the outskirts of Pirim Village. If he could make it to the right spot, he could easily disappear.

“I’m going to kill you this time you little weasel!” Bode roared in fury. This was met by raucous laughter.

“Yeah,” one of his friends—Jalt, maybe—barked in a reedy voice, “Nobody’s around to save you, either.”

Another voice sang out, “Hope you’ve said your last prayers, Maldies!”

This time, Niam knew it was Card.

Niam danced through the vines snaking over the straw covered ground and prayed he wouldn’t get tripped up. If he did, he had no doubt Bode would try to make good on his threat this time.

For once, Niam thought he might have gone too far.

As he launched through the last of the dense foliage, he burst out into the open. A wide expanse of Pirim Village filled his sight. He was atop the low hill that sat humped just beyond the main bridge running over Harvel River, which barely kissed the edge of town before it turned and flowed northeast toward Old Flood. Niam’s stomach sank like a stone as he skidded to a halt. This wasn’t good. He had overshot the place he wanted to be. If he entered here, the wide sidewalks and even wider streets offered no places to hide, unless he ducked into a shop, and then all Bode had to do was wait him out.

Behind him, the raucous voices bayed like a mangy pack of dogs. Bode Grimmel’s gang consisted of four of Pirim Village’s worst troublemakers. Card was one of the most despicable people Niam had ever known. He had nearly been driven out of town after the blacksmith caught him forcing the apothecary’s boy to his knees as he undid the ties holding up his trousers. When the man saw what was going on, he took a board and beat Card until he bled. When apothecary heard, he almost finished what the blacksmith started. Whatever had gone wrong with Card had gone wrong above and below his waist. The right side of his forehead bore a permanent scar where the apothecary beat him within an inch of his life.

Jalt was another of Bode’s minions, and the rooms within his skull seemed to lack mental furnishings. His expression was always bored, as if the only thing he ever found interesting were the kinds of things he did at Bode’s behest.

Aside from Bode, only Salb scared Niam…really scared him.

He was quiet, but his quick eyes reflected a cunning intelligence. His father was in the Pit in Kalavere for beating his mother to death. Salb had gotten himself sent here to stay with an aunt and uncle who soon wanted nothing to do with him. Like two magnets that should never be set side-by-side, he soon fell in with Bode, and the two of them were constantly seen around town together. Though he never said anything to Niam, there was something disturbing and predatory in his eyes. They held the unsettling glint of a person without a conscience.

The loud crackle of twigs snapping and vines pulling free from branches announced that Bode’s gang was having a hard time moving quickly through the woods.

Good. That brought him a little time. But only a little.

The narrow road he had hoped to take was too far away to reach safely. Bode was simply in better shape and could easily run him down. By choosing to leave the woods, Niam had lost his advantage. But that didn’t matter anyway, because only so much forest covered the hilltop.

Below, the road leading into Pirim Village curved gracefully around the hill below, where it became a wide main boulevard skirted by sidewalks of smooth cobblestones. First, it crossed over a bridge. The river beneath it gurgled at the bottom of a twenty-five foot drop-off. Niam knew he had only once opportunity to hide, and it was a choice that made him queasy.

“Where are you, freak?” Bode spat from somewhere in the dark wall of trees. “It doesn’t matter where you hide,” he jeered, “because I’m going to find you!” As the footfalls of Bode’s gang grew more distinct, Niam heard one of them call out, “I think he’s gone that way!”

Quickly, Niam descended the slope, falling back, allowing gravity to slide him down the loose gravel of the hillside. As soon as he stopped, he didn’t pause to listen; instead he struck off, sprinting to the point where the bridge began to stretch across the steep drop to the water below.

The severely angled ground allowed him to duck beneath the bridge’s lip. Thick wooden supports had been driven at angles into the nearly vertical walls of the chasm. They formed a tight crisscrossing pattern that extended part of the way down and were supported by the three tall cement columns with wide bases that reached several feet into the stream’s muddy bed.

Bode’s voice was louder now and came to him clearly across the small distance from the hilltop. That meant they were almost out of the woods. It also meant he only had seconds.

Niam ducked down and peered into the gloom where the bridge held its shadows like a greedy thief. Unconsciously, Niam’s hands clenched onto the lip of the bridge top. With an effort, he forced himself to let go and hooked an elbow around a support. Quickly he slipped completely beneath the bridge, and just in time. Only . . . he had hated the water ever since his sister had been found floating like a limp rag-doll in Siler’s Lake.

“Come out, come out, come out!” Bode and his gang chanted from the hilltop. Niam heard the sound of loose pebbles tumbling as the four of them began sliding down the hillside.

“He’s run into town!” one of the others shouted.

They were coming his way and it wouldn’t be long before they were on top of him!

Niam knew he had to wedge himself further into the bridge’s structure if he didn’t want to be seen. But the water twenty-five feet beneath him sang a death-song as it flowered over the rocks hidden within its dark, agitated surface. Niam’s knees trembled. Safety lay just another fifteen feet farther under the bridge. But to Niam’s mind that fifteen feet stretched out. The distance might as well have been infinite because the water below him called, its voice was like the dark words of the grave itself. Come to me, and you will find rest. Come to your brother and sister. To Niam the river resembled the black blood of a hideous beast, its shallows like ravening jaws and its depths a hungry gorge. Niam swallowed hard. A lump in his throat had formed as he looked down. The water is shallow, he told himself, shallow and not like the deep water of the Siler’s Lake.

Yet even shallow waters hid deep holes, and who knew, in the bottom of the stream bed there might be fissures that opened into yawning caverns where eyeless fish and long and ropey flesh-eating eels—like the ones of his nightmares feeding on his sister’s eyes—teemed in seething mats. Even in shallow water his sister had floated just a few feet above the lakebed and just a few feet from the lakeshore. Even in shallow water. Not in the depths.

Sucking in a breath, Niam stepped over to another beam, refusing to look down. Then, carefully, he stepped across to another, and began monkey-crawling his way deeper into the shadowy heart of the bridge’s gantry-like bowls. When he reached the center, he lifted his legs up behind himself and spread his arms out, pressing them against two joists. Grunting silently, he raised his body to the underside of the bridge and flattened himself out as much as possible. If anyone peered into the shadows below, they shouldn’t be able to spot him.

From above, he heard the thud of plunging feet as Bode and his friends ran to the bridge.

Niam pressed himself harder against the wooden planks. If it were possible to grow into wood, he would have. Beneath him, the water gurgled hungrily. The clunk of feet on the wood above made Niam draw in a silent breath.

Bode growled. “Where did he go?”

“He must’a gone into town,” Card’s garbled voice said.

Bode snarled, “The weasel is fast, but not that fast, and he’s not got the wind in him to make it like we do. He’s somewhere and we’re just missing it.”

“Well maybe he doubled back into the woods on top of the hill.”

“Hmmm . . . maybe.” Silence fell over the menacing group above. As it drew on, Niam forced his breathing to come slowly and evenly. His stomach gave a sickening lurch when Bode suddenly barked his next order. “Card, go look under the bridge.”

“But . . . that’s . . . it’s a long way down, Bode!”

“Why do you think I’m not doing it?” he asked, his voice surly and annoyed. “Go, or I’m not certain you’ll be in with us later!”

Niam heard Card walk off of the bridge and the crunch of his feet in the dry autumn grass. Slowly, he peered past the x-patterned joists, but kept his head up and his profile low. Card’s form, silhouetted in the bright midday light, appeared at the foot of the bridge.

Niam held himself rigid.

“Nothing,” Card reported with a shaky voice.

“Look harder, Card!” Bode growled.

“But it’s steep here,” Card whined. He continued to look back and forth along the bridge’s under-structure, but after a few quick moments, he straightened up. “Nothing,” he said, and hoisted himself onto the solid bridge from where he stood.

“Coward,” Bode spat.

“I’ll do it,” Salb said contemptuously. Niam heard him step down and watched as his silhouette appeared where Card’s had been moments earlier.

“I don’t see anything either, but it’s too dark to seen anything. He could be there.”

“If I could get away with burning the thing,” Bode said impatiently.

Suddenly, Salb spoke up in soft and menacing words. “We don’t’ need to do that.” His voice contained an eagerness that Niam did not like. The next sound Niam heard from Salb’s location was the soft, serpent-whisper of metal dragging across leather.

“Oh Good idea, Salb!” Bode said gleefully. “If he’s down there, he won’t be for long!”

Niam silently cursed the fact that he could not see what Bode and his gang were up to. As he pushed against the joists, the wood felt cold and grainy beneath his fingertips. He had really done it this time.

And then, as his mind worked feverishly to imagine what Salb was up to, a sword blade suddenly plunged through a narrow gap in the planks above. Its sharp, rusty edge was just a few feet from his face. Niam’s eyes crossed as he focused on it, and his heart gave a sudden lurch in his chest. He held his breath and dared not make a sound. Quickly, the sword was jerked up, and Salb moved a few feet over, preparing for the next plunge. Niam looked around desperately for a way out, galvanized by terror. He knew Salb would be on top of him any time.

Davin waited patiently for the owner of Kilgore’s Fine Jewely and Exotica to finish with his other customer. Jewelry and pottery in distinctly foreign styles were displayed on shelves and tall tables dispersed throughout the large shop. Normally, a town or village in as remote an area as the Lake Valleys couldn’t support something as lavish as a shop like this, but Lord Joachim’s estate, the Sartor holdings, and dozens of other successful merchants drew a lot of extra commerce to the area. If Davin had to hazard a guess, only cities as large as Kalavere or rivaled the wealth generated by the towns and villages of this region. But still, it would have been nice if he had managed to make it to the silversmith several days ago. Instead, fate had intervened, hadn’t it? And instead of running a simple errand, Davin had . . .

He didn’t know how to explain what he had done.

After talking to the girl’s family, he had walked back to the Pelican Inn. When his father saw the state he was in, he took the moneybag with a sigh and told Davin not to worry about it. They would just have to settle with Kilgore. He could make the necklace for his mother’s birthday. Though it wouldn’t be as nice, it would still be nice.

Davin then stumbled up to his room where he had one of the tavern maids draw him a bath. After cleaning himself, he went to bed and slept. And slept. And slept. And tried to get the day’s events out of his mind. Problem was, it’s didn’t work. Jaela, he reminded himself. Her name is Jaela.

Davin’s stomach churned at the thought of what Borl had done to the little girl and her brother. Yet it t also turned at the idea that he wanted a man brought to death. This was almost as hard to square himself with as anything else. Killing someone was Borl’s business, not his. And even if death was meted out as an act of justice, Davin was uncomfortable with the thought of being the one to do it. But the things he had seen Borl do in his mind! Eleven-years-old. Eleven.

Davin shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of unwanted memories from it. But it had felt good…GOOD to do what he had done, hadn’t it? But it also terrified Davin. How had he done that? How had he healed little Jaela? What was the voice? For now, trying to sort through the events of three days ago was like trying to put together a puzzle with half of the connecting pieces missing.

The rope of bells hanging from the shop’s front door tinkled as it opened and closed. Davin, stared into space, allowing his mind to drift. Pottery, with the delicate cursive scripts favored by a number of countries on the continent sat in rows, covered in richly colored patterns. Davin even thought he had seen the copper cooking bowls with the exotic, fluted tops favored by Feythean peoples in the lands across the southern sea.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Maerillus appeared in front of him. Davin nearly jumped.

“Hi,” he said, “Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh . . . err, sorry Maer. Didn’t see you come in.”

“Get that a lot lately,” his friend said distantly, and Davin guessed that he wasn’t the only one saddled with issues of his own today. Maerillus looked . . . distracted. An uncomfortable silence grew between the two of them.

“It’s just . . .” Davin began.

“ . . .Yeah.” Maerillus finished.

“Stuff” they both said at the same time.

Davin looked around, trying to find something in the shop to comment on to break the strange silence between them. He wondered what it was that had Maerillus’s mind all tied up. Whatever it was, it certainly couldn’t come close to the day Davin had in Kalavere. Of that much, he was sure.

Maerillus was the first to break the silence. “Sorry I was occupied when you called on me at the manor. Why did you want to meet here? Dad imports all of this stuff for Kilgore, anyway.”

“Yeah. Figured.” he said. “It’s Mom’s necklace.”

Maerillus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were having that done in Kalavere.”

“Never got around to the silversmith,” Davin told him honestly. “Kind of got sick. So how have things been with you?” he asked to the steer the conversation away from uncomfortable matters.

Maerillus looked around for a moment, hesitating, and then, with a note of honesty in his voice looked at Davin; his eyes were heavy. “Strange,” he said.

Now Davin was really curious. “Tell me about it,” was all he could say before Kilgore opened the storefront window so he could see outside.

“What is that boy doing?” he asked. “Hey,” he turned, addressing the two of them, “Isn’t that your friend, the Maldies boy?”

Davin and Maerillus turned their heads at the same time.

Outside, on the other side of the bridge, they watched as Niam stood on the steeply sloped ground just before it dropped off to the water below, clinging to the side of the bridge. He ducked his head beneath and appeared to study the structure below. Then he looked back up, toward the hill beyond the road leading into town before quickly disappearing beneath.

“Oh, this can’t be good—he hates water,” Maerillus observed gravely.

When Davin’s eyes followed to the hilltop, he saw Bode and three of his gang emerge from the woods and begin sliding down the gravelly slope.

Davin looked down and rubbed his eyes. “Why did there have to be four of them today?”

“Is anything ever easy with Niam?” Maerillus asked.

Davin shook his head and looked up at his friend. “You know, they look ready to kill him.”

“Probably deserve it.”

Them…or him?” Davin asked.

Maerillus made a sound that was half-laugh, half-grunt. Davin gave a rueful grin. “Shall we?” he asked.

Maerillus rolled his eyes and gave a mock bow. “After you, my lord.”

As they made their way out of the shop, Davin’s gaze locked on the four bullies milling about at the edge of the bridge. None of them looked up toward town. Before they made it to the bridge, Davin sensed Maerillus grow tense. Ahead of them, Card ducked down at the edge of the bridge, peering into its supporting structure. Meanwhile, the twisted expression on Bode’s face told Davin the bully was holding back rage by a hair. He had never seen him this angry.

What had Niam done?

Davin sensed Maerillus grow even stiffer, and he felt a pang of sympathy for his friend—especially considering the initial reaction he had to Borl and Grav the other day in the alley. He had been terrified. Prior to that, Davin had never been in a situation where he had been forced to fight for his life, but he had been in fights before. He didn’t think Maerillus had ever so much as balled his fist up at someone. And now it looked as if they were going to have to fight. Considering the present situation in front of them, it might even get bloody. Bode’s gang outnumbered them twice over.

Beneath his breath, Davin whispered, “Just watch my back, man. If it looks like a fight, I’ll take Bode out and it will be over. I’m pretty sure the rest of them will run.”

Maerillus slowed. “It’s not that,” he said.

“Look, I can take Bode. I promise.”

Maerillus bent closer, “No… really, it’s not that. I just had to make up my mind to try something.”

“Oh,” Davin said slowly. As they had been walking, he had been holding back from making a decision of his own, too, hadn’t he? The thing he had done in the alley . . . could he do it again? This wasn’t the first time this thought occurred to him.

No.

That thought, that question, really, had been on his mind for the past three days as little what-if scenarios kept popping up in his mind. And now one of those what-ifs was staring him in he face. Someone he cared about was about to be attacked. And now both he and Maerillus were placing themselves in harm’s way. Could he do what he had done in Kalavere again? Like an uncapped well, Davin still sensed the same ocean of power somewhere deep down within himself, waiting to be summoned. All he had to do was go to the well, and waters would come.

Beside him, Maerillus gave a quick nod as he made his own decision. They were close to the bridge now. In short order, Bode’s pack of dogs would realize they were coming. If they hadn’t been so intent on their quarry, they would already have been aware of their approach. Maerillus bent close to Davin again and whispered quietly, “I don’t have time to explain, but I need to you to stay close to me. Found out that what I am about to do will work on other people as long as they are right next to me. I need you to pay attention,” he whispered insistently, “To everything. I’ll explain later, okay?”

Davin nodded his head.

Ahead, Salb drew a short, rusted sword from a tattered leather scabbard. Bode hung his head back and laughed gleefully. Davin was so close he heard them now. When Salb unexpectedly drove the sword into a narrow gap separating the tarred planks of the bridge-top, Davin nearly cried out in alarm.

“Great Lord!” Davin gasped. That was too much for him. He leaned his head toward Maerillus. “He’ll kill Niam if he has a chance. Won’t even think it through until the body hits the water below.”

Maerillus nodded. “I need to get around them. I need to get behind Salb, and I can do it. Will you stay here in front of them?”

Davin nodded his head.

“I don’t know how long they won’t be able to see you—may be that it wears off for you immediately.”

As Maerillus said this, both Card and Salb looked up in their direction. Davin calmly waited for one of them to alert the others, but nothing happened. They seemed to look around them, almost as if their existence didn’t register.

With that, Maerillus walked slowly toward the four, keeping almost to the edge of the bridge. As Davin watched in amazement, his friend walked right past them. He might as well have been a ghost or invisible spirit. And then something peculiar happened. The farther his friend got from him, the more Davin’s eyes began to play tricks with his sight. Maerillus became increasingly hard to look at—not hard to see, but hard to look at—almost as if his figure folded into the air around him the way a sheet of paper at a distance nearly disappeared when tuned sideways. To Davin’s eyes, the very sight of Maerillus became… oily.

Suddenly, Jalt looked up at Davin and his eyes widened. “Hey! You don’t need to be here, Hapwell!”

The others turned toward him. Bode was the most surprised, and the flash of fear that crossed his face was unmistakable. He recovered quickly, though. “Get out of here, Hapwell. You don’t want any part of this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bode. Can’t a guy cross a bridge?” he asked innocently.

Bode sneered. “Not this one. Not today.”

“Well, we have a problem, then.”

Bode looked up at him and took a threatening step forward. “And what is that¸Hapwell?” he asked. “There are four of us and only one of you, in case you’ve forgotten how to count.”

Davin crossed his arms. “I don’t think you understand, Bode. Before your friend there puts a sword through Niam, you need to realize you’re being watched. Kilgore is standing there in his window watching us right now. And unless you can count, the tally for the Pit will be one murderer and three accomplices . . . It’s easy math, really.”

Bode’s eyes grew wide. He looked up and his eyes trailed down the main street of Pirim Village as if he had just considered it for the first time.

Davin grinned inwardly.

But before Bode could accede to Davin’s point, Salb held his sword point down, aiming it over another gap in the wood planks. He looked up at Davin and gave him a malicious grin. His fingers tightened as he wound them around the pommel, and his elbows bunched as he prepared to drive it down into the gap and anything that might be hiding beneath.

In a flash, Maerillus appeared behind him. His arm snaked around him and he held a dagger, its point pressing into Salb’s neck. The bully’s eyes widened in shock. Jalt and Card let out loud exclamations and leapt back in astonishment.

“Throw it over the edge, Salb” Maerillus snarled ferociously. Davin caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, barely enough time to register the fact that they blazed with a violent yellow light.

Davin fought hard to contain his shock. Salb just stood there in astonishment. Maerillus pushed the blade harder against the flesh above his artery. “Now Salb! Before it’s you lying down there in the water!”

“We’ll settle up with this later,” Bode said to him in a simmering voice.

Salb looked around nervously. When none of his friends made a move to come to his aid, he tossed the blade over the side. Moments later a splash followed as it landed in the narrow river.

“You okay down there, Niam?” Davin asked loudly.

From beneath the bridge, Niam made his best attempt at a lighthearted tone, “Bout time. Thought you’d never show up!”

Bode let out an angry hiss. “It’s not over Maldies.”

Davin stepped up to the bully. “Oh, I think it is now.”

Before he took the time to think, to even look squarely at Davin, Bode’s face contorted like a prune and he swung his fist at Davin.

And for the second time in his life, Davin felt time slow to a crawl.

Bode’s fist moved in a slow, smooth arc toward Davin, and as he watched, his vision sharpened. Davin could have counted the wrinkles on his knuckles if he wanted to. He had all of the time in the world. Bode became stupid and impulsive when angry. Davin used this to his advantage.

Deftly, he stepped back and caught Bode’s fist in his hand. It made a loud thwack as it collided with his open palm. Davin moved like lightning. Closing his fingers over his opponent’s wrist, he bent Bode’s fingers back and with a twist, rolled his forearm around, bringing his own forearm down on the tip of Bode’s elbow. Instantly, he bent over double. Bode let out a loud cry of pain as Davin drove him down onto his knees.

“Tell your friends to walk away,” he said in a flat tone. “Tell them to do it now or I might send you and Salb over the edge, Bode. I’m within my rights. Half the town saw Salb try to kill Niam and you try to attack me.”

Wincing in pain Bode spat, “You’re going to pay, all of you are going to pay!”

Davin leaned in, applying a slight amount of pressure to Bode’s elbow. The bully howled in pain. “Alright!” he bellowed. “Alright!”

“Be a good little tyrant and tell your goons to leave.”

“Go!” Bode shouted between clenched teeth.

Without waiting, Card, Salb, and Jalt looked around nervously and began walking away. Davin gave them a moment to gain some distance, and then gave Bode a hard shove. As the bully stood, he looked up to glare at Davin, but as their eyes locked, all of the defiance in Bode fled. “Bloody hell!” he cried out in alarm. Davin pointed them away from the bridge. Bode looked away, and without another word started running and soon was far enough away to sound the all-clear to Niam.

Below them, Niam grunted as he gingerly made his way over the wooden struts and extricated himself from the bridge’s support structure.

“What did you do this time, Niam?” Maerillus asked with annoyance. “You could have gotten us hurt and nearly got yourself killed.”

“You know they were probably going to just wait for you to go home, don’t you?” Davin asked.

Niam sat there for a moment letting his feet dangle over the edge, collecting himself. “No, I don’t think so,” he said at last.

Davin and Maerillus walked over to him.

“Oh?”

“Nope. They’ve got bigger things to deal with,” he said. “Heard them talking about it in the ruins of the old abbey. That’s why they were after me.”

“Oh?”

“Well that, and I kind of tricked them into falling into an old privy shaft.”

Maerillus hit his forehead with the flat of his hand. He sighed impatiently. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day,” he said sternly. “And us right along with you.”

Niam turned and lifted himself up. “I’ve got something to tell you,” he said as he stood. When he lifted his head and met their eyes, he said, “Oh! Your eyes too! I’m not going crazy.” Then, he laughed. “Make that two things I’ve got to tell you!”