The Child Thief

  “All in good time, Ulfger,” the Lady said. “But first, I want you to hear something. It might do your spirit good. Come, sit here beside me.”

  Ulfger shook his head, but sat down.

  “Now, Peter,” the Lady whispered. “The Sunbird.”

  Peter drew in a deep breath, sat up straight, cocked his head back, and began the song. The hall fell silent, even the servants stopped, all of them listening in stunned silence as his song echoed and resonated around the chamber, the acoustics of the dome amplifying the tune and the green ambient light of the pool brightening in response.

  Peter finished and looked around, expecting more applause. Instead he was met by faraway eyes, half-opened mouths, some of them even weeping. Peter wondered what he’d done. He glanced at the Lady, unsure. Saw that she too had tears in her eyes.

  “That was beautiful, Peter,” she said and her wonderful smile fell on him and he knew he’d done well.

  “Truly breathtaking,” the old faerie lady blurted out, dabbing away at her eyes.

  “Ulfger,” the Lady said. “Does his song not touch your heart?”

  Ulfger looked as though he’d drunk sour milk.

  Hiisi stood up and began to clap, the rest followed his lead, all except for Ulfger, who sat stoned-faced, digging his nails into his palms.

  PETER WAS BROUGHT a plate of food. One sullen-faced servant actually smiled at him and slipped him a honey pie. Peter ate his fill and then some, and soon the drone of warm conversation, the soft music, and hypnotic glow of the pool made him drowsy. He rested his head against the Lady’s breast.

  The Lady slipped her arms about him and began to softly twirl his hair. She smelled of pond water and honeysuckle, and these scents, like his mother’s sweet milk of so long ago, filled him with contentment. He was where he belonged, by the Lady’s side, for always and forever.

  Hiisi slid over a few chairs and began to flirt with a blushing elven maiden. Tanngnost came around, taking a seat next to the Lady. He leaned over and spoke low. “My Lady I would speak with you.”

  The Lady sighed. “You cannot stand the sight of me being happy, not even for a moment. Can you, you fretful old goat?”

  Tanngnost shook his head sorrowfully. “There is nothing I wish more than your happiness. But…things are worse than we feared.”

  “Yes, I know. I read that much in your eyes.”

  Tanngnost let out a sigh. “These are ill times, my Lady.”

  “The men-kind?”

  “Christians. They’re determined to rid the land of any who worship the Horned One. Murdering all the druids, burning the temples, sometimes whole villages, and knocking over the standing stones.”

  The Lady’s face hardened. “This god of peace and love certainly likes to bathe the land in blood.”

  Ulfger’s eyes lit up; he leaned over. “Now is the time to take the folk of Avalon to war! Now, before it is too late. Now while we still have allies in the world of men-kind.”

  The Lady looked at him sadly. “Ulfger, why are you in such a hurry to abandon your youth? The weight of the world will be on your shoulders soon enough, then you’ll yearn for these days. What I wouldn’t do to have one carefree day of my youth back.”

  Ulfger grimaced. “Modron, I don’t see what my age has to do with any of this.”

  Peter looked up. “The bad men? Are they coming here?”

  “No, Peter,” the Lady said. “Not here. They can’t come here. I would never allow it.” She handed him a cream puff and sat him on the floor.

  “Ulfger, do me this favor, take the boy here out into the yard with the other children. Go and play.”

  Peter’s ears perked up. There were other children to play with?

  “I am not a nursemaid,” Ulfger snapped.

  “I mean you, Ulfger. You go and play. Run around. Build something. Break something. Climb a tree. Get dirty. Get in some trouble. Have some fun.”

  Ulfger looked at her as though she’d lost her mind.

  “Just try it. For once. For me?”

  “No. I wish to hear of Tanngnost’s travels.”

  “You will hear everything in good time. Your mother will see to it. For now, I wish you to take Peter to the courtyard.”

  Ulfger didn’t move, just stared at her.

  “Ulfger, please. We can talk later. I promise.”

  Ulfger looked as though someone were twisting a knife in his gut. “Fine,” he said, forcing the word out through clenched teeth.

  The Lady touched the tall boy’s arm. “Ulfger, I hope to Avallach that you wake up and see what that woman has done to you. I hope you see it before all of your youth is lost.”

  Ulfger turned and headed for the door. Peter glanced at the Lady, unsure. She nodded and he followed the boy out from the chamber.

  PETER CAUGHT UP with Ulfger in the hall. The tall boy stood studying an intricately woven tapestry. The scene was of a massive, caped lord holding a long black sword and wearing a helmet with great elk horns jutting up from either side. The helmet covered his face, but his eyes glowed out from the visor.

  Peter heard the distant calls of children coming from somewhere down the way. Peter cleared his throat. “Um…Ulfger.”

  The tall boy didn’t respond; his eyes lost in the tapestry.

  “Hey-ho, Ulfger,” Peter called.

  “You will address me as Lord Ulfger,” the tall boy said, without taking his eyes from the tapestry.

  “Lord Ulfger, can we go play now?”

  “This is my father,” Ulfger said. “The Horned One. He rules the forest.” Ulfger moved down to the next tapestry. “And this…this is my mother.” He inclined his head toward the portrait. A thin-faced woman with piercing eyes glared back at Peter. He felt the woman’s eyes were judging him, staring right through him.

  “Queen Eailynn, of the elven line of Norrenthal.”

  Peter thought he detected a sneer in the tall boy’s tone, and wasn’t sure if the boy revered the queen or resented her. Maybe both, he thought.

  “Their lineage makes me a lord.” He looked at Peter as though expecting something. “When I come of age I shall rule all of Avalon.”

  “Sure. Okay,” Peter said, nodding. “Can we go play now?”

  “Try, ‘Lord Ulfger, may we go play now?’”

  “Lord Ulfger, may we go play now?”

  Ulfger stepped over to the next tapestry. Peter recognized this one right away; it was the Lady. In her portrait she looked kind and strong, her eyes bright and glowing.

  “Modron is a creature of whim and fancy, song and sentiment,” Ulfger said, looking troubled. “She was never meant to lead.”

  Peter glanced wistfully down the hall. He really wanted to play with the other children, and didn’t understand why they had to stand here looking at these boring portraits.

  “She tries,” Ulfger continued. “There are moments when she seems capable. Tonight, there at the round table, I thought she would rally—make them see what was at stake. But no, her mood shifts like the wind, distracted by something as trivial as a singing child.” Ulfger stared at Peter, his dark eyes boring into the boy. Peter squirmed, and glanced nervously up and down the empty hall.

  After a moment, Ulfger asked, “Do you adore her?”

  Peter nodded.

  “Do you wish for her love?” He leaned toward Peter, his voice became harsh, more intense with every word. “Her attention? Her motherly doting?”

  Peter stepped back.

  “Of course you do. What choice have you? She has most certainly caught you in her spell. But heed me. You’re naught but a distraction, a substitute for her poor lost Mabon. She’s but trying to plug that ever-bleeding hole in her heart.” He let out a long breath. “She was stronger before her great loss, before her son was stolen from her. Now she is always pining for her Mabon. That is why she spends so much time at Avallach’s Shrine, not for the sake of Avalon. No, it is her hope that Avallach will tell her where she can find her son.” Ulfger all but spit this
last bit out.

  “So now she brings her little surrogate child to the court. Has him sing us a pretty ditty.” He gave Peter a peculiar smile. “And the fools beam, and applaud, and shed sentimental tears then go back to wine, feast, and frolic while Avalon sinks beneath their very feet!” He gritted his teeth. “When I come to rule I will put an end to their debauchery. Faerie shall become a force to be feared. Ulfger, a name spoken in frightful whispers. We will make men-kind remember their place and will hide behind the Lady’s Mist no longer.”

  “Ulfger, I mean, Lord Ulfger,” Peter said. “Can we go play now?”

  Ulfger bristled. “Play? Play? To run around with the boys and girls laughing and giggling. Is that all you can think of?”

  Peter nodded wholeheartedly.

  Ulfger sighed. “Come.”

  “HOW DO YOU become one of the Lady’s Guard?” Peter asked.

  Ulfger looked down at him and smirked. Walking right next to him, Peter realized how big the boy was. He was already taller than the elves, but unlike them, he was thick-boned and solid through the chest, more like the men Peter had seen.

  “First you have to learn respect for your betters. You can start by addressing me properly. My title is lord. As in, ‘Lord Ulfger, may I’ or ‘May I, Lord Ulfger.’ Can you grasp this simple bit of etiquette?”

  Peter gave him a quizzical look but nodded.

  “No! You do not nod to me. Never nod to me. That is only allowed among peers. Understand?”

  Peter shrugged.

  Ulfger stopped. “Are you simpleminded? Shrugging is the same as nodding. Try again.”

  “Try what again?”

  “No!” Ulfger growled. “It’s, ‘Try what again, Lord Ulfger?’”

  Peter could hear the spirited shouts of children and tried to peer around Ulfger.

  “Now say it.”

  “It, Lord Ulfger.”

  Ulfger let out a breath of frustration. “You’ll be lucky if they allow you to guard the maid’s chamber pot.”

  “Chamber pot?”

  “Never mind,” Ulfger huffed, and pushed open the gate into the courtyard.

  It was night, but the courtyard was lit with hundreds of orange lanterns. Well over a dozen elven children—boys and girls of all ages—were climbing and racing around a group of standing stones. Several had blunt wooden swords and spears and were busy raiding and defending the stones.

  “Hey, it’s that kid!” a boy shouted. “The one who took the witch’s eye.”

  They all came running over to get a closer look at Peter, circling him but keeping their distance as though scared he might bite them.

  “Lord Ulfger?” a girl asked. “Is it true? Did this boy really burn the witch’s eye out?”

  “So the story goes, if you choose to believe such tales.”

  “He doesn’t look so tough,” a boy said.

  “He has hopes of entering the Lady’s Guard,” Ulfger said.

  The children burst out laughing.

  Peter looked to Ulfger. “Lord Ulfger, why’s that so funny?”

  “Because you’re an uncouth mongrel that doesn’t know the first thing about courtly etiquette. Why, look at the way you’re dressed. Who would want such a dirty little monkey escorting them anywhere? Do you know how to march? Have you ever even seen a formal parade? Do you know the first thing about titles, ceremonies, manners? There’s more to being a guard than just being brave.”

  Peter’s eyes dropped. He hadn’t realized being a guard could be so complicated.

  “Don’t worry yourself,” Ulfger said. “You will make a fine manure boy. Now go play your mindless games with the rest of them.” He glared at the children. “Now, everyone leave. Get out of my sight.”

  The boys and girls all scampered back to the rocks. Peter ran along after them, glad to finally get away from the tall, brooding boy.

  THE BOYS AND girls stood around Peter, staring at him as though he’d just hatched from an egg.

  “Weren’t you afraid?” a freckle-faced girl asked. Her front teeth were so big that she reminded Peter of a rabbit.

  “Afraid?” Peter laughed and stuck his chest out. “No, not at all.” He pulled his wolf hood up. “I’m the wolf slayer. I fear nothing.”

  “How’d you do it?” a boy asked. His head was shaven and he had dirt crusted around his mouth, making Peter wonder what he’d been eating.

  “You really want to know?” Peter asked.

  The kids all nodded.

  “I’m warning you, it’s a very scary tale. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  They leaned in, nodding eagerly.

  “Well, okay, I’ll tell you then. I was walking alone in the swamps when she jumped out of a hole, blocking my path. She was a horrible sight, all covered in scales and horns, her hair a nest of snakes. Her teeth were green and as long as knives. She came for me, drooling and snapping her teeth.”

  The kids exchanged quick, nervous looks, some putting their hands up to their faces.

  “Anyone else would have screamed and run, I’m sure. But not me. I snatched out my knife.” Peter picked a stick up off the ground. “And drove her back.” His face twisted up into a snarl as he made jabbing motions with the stick. “I chased her back down her stinking hole. Her den was full of demons and monsters. She set them on me. My knife broke on their thick hides and I had to beat them away with my bare fists. The witch jumped on my back, hissing, clawing, and snapping her long teeth. I threw her across the room, and grabbed a limb from the fire, jabbed it into her eye like this.” He bared his teeth, jabbed the stick at the air, and twisted it back and forth. “I could have killed her, but she began to cry, begging me to spare her life. It would have been cowardly to have killed her then. So I let her live.” He raised one finger, squinted. “But I gave her fair warning. Told her if she should ever, ever, attack another child, I would come back and cut out her black heart.”

  The kids stared at him wordlessly. Finally, the buck-toothed girl whispered, “Wow.” Several others echoed her sentiment, all wide-eyed.

  The buck-toothed girl scooted over next to Peter. “You certainly are brave,” she said and gave Peter a flirty smile.

  Peter blushed and grinned. “Heck, I did what I had to do.”

  The boy with the shaven head frowned at the girl, then gave Peter a hard look. “Yeah, well, I don’t believe anyone is that brave.”

  Peter shrugged.

  “If you’re so brave let’s see you catch a Fire Salamander.”

  “A what?”

  “Fire Salamander,” the boy repeated. “You’d have to be very brave to catch one of those. Their bite is as fifty hornet stings.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  The elf boy’s eyes gleamed. “Because I dare you.”

  The other boys and girls looked at Peter expectantly.

  “Well, if I knew where one was, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Peter said, then realized all the kids were suddenly grinning. “What?”

  The elf boy’s smile reached from ear to ear. “I can show you where a bunch of them are.”

  “Oh…hmm,” Peter said weakly, caught the girl’s eyes on him. “Sure, okay. Show me then.”

  The elf boy led Peter up to a small garden pond. Wildflowers and marble stonework surrounded the pond; wide lily pads floated along its surface. Set among the lilies were crystal globes the size of pumpkins, giving off a sparkling, golden luminance.

  The kids stopped at the knee-high hedge.

  “That’s the Lady’s orb pond,” the girl said. “We’re not allowed past here.”

  “Yeah,” agreed the boy. “If Ulfger catches us in there he’ll have us lashed.”

  Peter chuckled.

  “No, really,” the girl said.

  Peter hesitated, glanced back down the slope. He could see Ulfger’s back. The tall boy sat upon a bench among the trees, his head down, looking lost in thought. Peter felt sure he could sneak up to the pond and back without drawing any notice.

&
nbsp; “He’s scared,” the elf boy said. “See, told you he wasn’t so brave.”

  Peter stepped over the hedge, not missing the looks of admiration. He puffed out his chest and strolled boldly up the short walk to the pond’s edge.

  Peter had no problem finding a salamander—they glowed. A plump red one floated just below the surface in front of him, its short legs dangling beneath its long body. It was about as long as Peter’s forearm, from nose to the tip of the tail. Peter wondered what the big deal was. He’d caught his fair share of frogs, and frogs were fast. The thing looked about as fast as a slug.

  He stepped out onto a rock, keeping one foot on the bank, straddling the salamander. He figured the best way to avoid getting bitten was to snatch it up from behind the neck, like you would a snake. Peter slowly eased his hand into the water, trying to come up behind the creature. The salamander didn’t move, didn’t seem aware that Peter was there at all. Peter’s hand hovered above its neck. He swallowed loudly, wondering just what fifty hornets’ stings might feel like, hoping not to find out.

  Peter grabbed the salamander. Caught it cleanly about the neck, whipped it out of the pond, and held it high for the kids to see. The kids clamped their hands over their mouths in amazement; even the elf boy with the shaven head looked impressed. All at once the salamander came to life, wiggling and squirming, slipping loose of Peter’s grasp. Peter caught hold of its tail and realized his error the second it bit him—pain shot up his arm. Not fifty hornets, more like a hundred and fifty.

  Peter screamed.

  He screamed and tried to sling the creature off his arm, lost his balance, and fell backward into the pond, hitting one of the globes. The globe smashed into another and both of them exploded with a loud, hollow boom. There came two brilliant flashes of light followed by a flume of smoke. But Peter didn’t care about the globes, didn’t care about Ulfger, the only thing that mattered was getting the stinging monster off his arm. He slapped wildly at it, but the thing only clamped down harder. Finally he grabbed it around the neck and twisted it loose, leaving six deep puncture wounds in his arm. Only then did he hear the tall boy shouting at him.