“This is Devilwood. This is my forest,” Peter shouted. “LEAVE!”
Ulfger halted and lifted a gloved hand. The elves moved up on his flanks. He looked Peter up and down and sneered. “Seems Myrkvior has become infested with vermin. Surrender yourself and the other pests and I promise you leniency.”
Peter could see they carried no nets, ropes, or other bindings, only swords and spears. He knew Ulfger’s leniency amounted to nothing more than a quick death.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Peter said. “Or is it hard to hear with just one ear?”
Ulfger glowered. “The time for fun and games is over, little runt.” He pulled a long, wide sword from his scabbard, spun it once, and started forward. The elves began to fan out.
Peter whistled and the woods came alive with howls. Kids dropped out of trees and sprung up from the bushes, leveling spears, swords, and hatchets at the elves, all thirty kids snarling and clacking their teeth.
The elves looked about wildly, their thin, narrow eyes filled with shock and surprise. The Devils jabbed at the air, pressing them back into a tight knot.
Ulfger spun around and around, appeared stunned, confused, as though trying to comprehend how the tables could’ve turned so quickly, so utterly. He clutched his long sword with both hands and stumbled backward into the elves.
“You have to the count of four to drop your weapons!” Peter cried.
“ONE!”
The elves glanced at one another.
“TWO!”
The Devils hefted their spears, ready to throw. There was no playfulness on their faces, no mercy, only the eyes of children that had seen more than their share of brutality and death.
“THREE!”
The elves tossed down their spears.
“What are you doing?” Ulfger cried.
Three Devils shoved their spears to within an inch of Ulfger’s face.
“It’s your call, Ulfger,” Peter said.
Ulfger’s sword trembled in his hands. His face twisted into a knot of rage, his dark eyes glowering. He threw down his sword with a cry of frustration.
“Take all their weapons,” Peter said. “We can use some good elven blades.”
They kept the elves under guard as several smaller kids swarmed around and relieved them of their swords and knives.
“Thieves,” Ulfger said, and spat. “Nothing but the lowest caste.”
Peter jabbed his blade beneath Ulfger’s chin. “Take off your clothes. Everything.”
“What?” Ulfger’s dark eyes flashed.
“That’s ‘What, Lord Peter,’” Peter said. “As in ‘May I Lord Peter’ or ‘Lord Peter, may I.’”
Ulfger glared at him.
“Oh, don’t you remember the drill?” Peter asked. He could see by Ulfger’s face that he did.
Peter pressed his sword point into Ulfger’s neck, just enough to prick the skin. “Take off your clothes, now.”
Ulfger tugged off his boots, then his tunic, a thin shirt of mail, his pants, until finally he stood before them all completely nude.
The Devils snickered and jeered. Ulfger’s face flushed red, his lips trembling with outrage. “You…will…regret this.”
Peter smacked the side of his face with the flat of his sword. Ulfger reeled, almost lost his feet. He spat and wiped his mouth, looked at the blood on his hand.
“You forgot to address me as Lord Peter.”
Ulfger squinted.
Peter raised the sword. “Do it now! And maybe, just maybe, I will let you leave with your balls still attached.”
“Lord Peter,” Ulfger forced out between clenched teeth.
“Good, now turn around. I owe you something.”
Ulfger no longer seemed capable of speaking. He just shook his head.
Peter flicked the blade across Ulfger’s cheek, opening a small cut. Ulfger flinched, let out a weak cry.
“If I have to ask again, you’ll lose your other ear.”
Ulfger turned slowly around.
Peter reared back his sword and hit Ulfger across the buttocks with the flat of the blade. The loud clap echoed off the trees. Ulfger let out a cry. Peter hit him again, then again. The kids winced with every blow. Ulfger let out a sob, stumbled forward, and fell to the dirt.
“This is Devilwood,” Peter said and leaned over next to Ulfger’s ear. “This is my forest. The next time you set foot in these woods I will shove my sword all the way up your ass.” Peter kicked Ulfger hard in the buttocks. “Now get out of here!”
Ulfger pushed to his feet and limped down the trail. The Devils chased after him, hooting, howling, and barking, as they pelted him with pinecones and dirt clods, chasing him all the way to Goggie Creek.
A SHARP CHIRP brought Peter back to the present. He caught a flash of green: faeries—three of them—leaped off a branch and flew away up the trail.
“I believe news of our visit precedes us,” Tanngnost said with a wry grin. “Keep your eyes open: the welcoming committee should be arriving soon.”
Peter glanced about the terrain, spotted a rocky ledge just off the main trail. “We should wait over there,” Peter said. “Those rocks will give me a good head start if I need to leave a bit early.”
The troll nodded and the two of them strolled toward the ledge.
“All will be fine,” Tanngnost said. “So long as you keep your head about you and don’t antagonize him. He can’t possibly raise his sword against you, not after his own father granted you a place among faerie fold. He’s honor-bound to at least hear us out.”
“Honor? Ulfger has no honor.”
“Ulfger does have honor—in many ways it is his greatest undoing. He’s tied to what he believes is his duty, no matter how distorted that may have become. He’ll honor his father’s clemency. But I don’t have to warn you to be careful. You know he’d love to kill you. And if he can find a reason to claim you a threat to Avalon, or to the welfare of the Lady, he will try.”
“From what you’ve told me, the Lady’s little more than his prisoner.”
“Peter, you distort my words. I never implied any such gibberish.”
“You said he never allows visitors or for her to leave. When was the last time you saw her outside her refuge?”
Tanngnost’s great furry brow creased. “I can’t say exactly. I don’t know if she ever leaves.”
“See!”
“I don’t believe that’s Ulfger’s doing, though. When the Great Horned One died, part of Modron seemed to have died as well. I saw her once, briefly, sometime after the great battle. She didn’t recognize me. Not sure she even saw me; she stared through me as though asleep with her eyes open. And now the elves tell that she has grown listless and weaker still. Sadly, she neglects the Mist, and as you well know it has become infested with the Sluagh. They feed on it. Feed on…her.” The troll was quiet for a moment. “I fear if she loses her will altogether, the Mist will fall. Then that will be the end for all of us.” Tanngnost pulled at his long chin whiskers and drifted away into his own thoughts. “Um, what were we talking about?”
Peter smiled. “About what an ass Ulfger is.”
“Ah, yes. That’s right. What I meant to tell you is that whatever Ulfger’s failings, you must never forget that he’s the son of the Horned One. That he, and only he, can wear the Horned Helm and wield Caliburn.”
“But the sword was broken.”
“Even broken, the blade holds enough power and poison to help us drive the Flesh-eaters into the Mist.”
“You never told me that! What are we waiting for?” Peter’s voice became excited. “Where do they keep it? I’ll steal it. Why, if I had the sword I’d drive the Flesh-eaters away myself!” Peter’s eyes lit up.
“Peter,” Tanngnost huffed, and rapped twice on the boy’s head. “Do you ever listen? Did you sleep through all my teachings? Have all my pearls of wisdom been wasted on a dingbat? Caliburn was forged by Avallach and given to the Horned One to protect Avalon in his stead, to drive outs
iders away.”
“I know that,” Peter muttered.
“Its touch is death. Only those of ancient blood lines can wield it. And of those, who is left?”
Peter shrugged.
“Don’t be a dunderheaded halfwit,” Tanngnost said. “Ulfger. Only Ulfger remains. Not even the elves can touch it without being burned. And one of impure blood such as yourself? Why, it would burn you from the inside out!”
Peter frowned.
“Peter, whether you like it or not, we need Ulfger. And we need to do our best to convince him to join us.”
“Well, all I know is if you’re putting any faith in him then you’re the dunderheaded halfwit. Ulfger’s a coward. It’ll be just like at the Merrow Cove.”
“No, not a coward. Trapped in the past. Ulfger inherited his father’s physical prowess but not his will. He cannot rise above his father’s ghost. It wasn’t his choice to stay behind at the great battle. His father had him swear an oath to defend the Lady and her garden against whatever should pass. Ulfger still holds to that and will not leave her forest. Even with the destruction of all of Avalon at hand, he believes it is his duty to remain with the Lady.”
Peter let loose an ugly laugh. “He hides behind duty like it is his mother’s apron.”
“That may well be, but—”
Peter put up his hand and cocked his head. “They’re here.”
Just on the top of the rise stood Ulfger, flanked by twelve narrow-eyed elves all carrying swords and spears. The elves’ leathers were the color of the forest and well-worn, while Ulfger still wore the gold-and-red tunic. The tunic was a bit threadbare now, but it still bore the black elk-head crest.
“A meddler and a human-born,” Ulfger called. “And neither welcome here. Trespass in the Lady’s Wood carries but one punishment…death.”
Chapter Fourteen
Clan
Nick swallowed a spoonful of porridge and winced. His throat was still sore, but the troll had been right. Except for a throbbing in his temples, he felt better. Cricket and Danny winced as they ate, as well, but they were all so hungry they finished every bite.
The wounds were still hard to look at, but Sekeu had rubbed some sort of smelly ointment on them and the redness and swelling were subsiding.
“What do you guys know about these Flesh-eaters?” Nick asked.
“Not much,” Cricket said. “They won’t tell me a thing. Just that we’ll find out when we’re ready.”
“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Nick said. “I don’t like all these secrets. Doesn’t that bother you guys? I mean—”
Leroy sat his bowl on the table and plopped down beside Nick.
“Crazy day, huh?” Leroy said, his tone upbeat, almost cheerful.
Nick looked away in disgust, staring into his empty bowl. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
Cricket sighed. “Abraham told me about what you did, Leroy.” She stuck out her hand. “Thanks.”
Leroy’s face lit up. He shook Cricket’s hand. “Hell, the whole thing was just crazy, that’s all.”
Danny tried to straighten his glasses, pushing at the broken frame as he weighed the situation. He didn’t put out his hand but he did say, “Thanks.” And it sounded to Nick like he meant it.
“Hey,” Leroy said. “I know I can be a real shit sometimes. But…if you guys can cut me a little slack…I mean, what I’m trying to say is I’d really like to start over with you guys. What’d you say? Friends?”
Cricket and Danny took a moment, nodded to each other, and finally both of them said, “Friends.” Nick remained quiet.
“I’m going to be a Devil now. Devils look after each other,” Leroy said, and stuck out his hand to Nick. “Right, Nick?”
Nick didn’t look at him. He just poked at his bowl with his spoon.
“Right, Nick?” Leroy repeated, now with a noticeable edge to his voice.
No, Nick thought. I don’t have to play this part anymore. I’m done being dicked around, done with Peter and his games, and I’m most certainly done with Leroy.
Nick got up from the table and went over to the roots, leaving Danny and Cricket looking perplexed, and Leroy very unhappy.
NICK CLOSED HIS eyes and let the warmth from the porridge spread through his body. He was sure things weren’t over between Leroy and him, but he’d deal with that later. Right now his head hurt and he wanted some space to sort things out, but he only had a minute before Cricket and Danny came over and sat with him.
“Soooo?” Cricket asked.
Nick was silent.
“So what’s the deal with you and Leroy?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right,” Cricket said. She looked like she might burst at any minute. “C’mon, you gotta tell me. What’d he do now? Huh, what?”
“Nothing,” Nick said curtly, and wondered why everyone seemed bent on driving him crazy tonight. “Just drop it, all right?”
“Man, what’s up with you?” Cricket said. “Leroy saved your life. Seems you could cut him some slack. Think about—”
“Do you guys miss home?” Nick cut in.
“No,” Cricket said, without hesitation. “Not a bit. Things were really fucked up at home. My dad—” She stopped, looked like she wanted to add something more, then shook her head. “Deviltree is my home now.”
Nick wondered how bad it could be that Cricket felt safer here, among these cretins, than with her own family.
“I miss Cocoa Puffs,” Danny said.
Both Nick and Cricket rolled their eyes.
“I’m not trying to be funny,” Danny said, as he tried to straighten his glasses. “Wouldn’t you kill for a bowl right now? Or maybe some microwave popcorn? What I really miss is freaking toilet paper. Never would’ve thought toilet paper was man’s greatest invention. Y’know what else? I miss my Gameboy. I also miss my stupid little dog. She’s a pug named Piglet. She had something wrong with her nose and made a snorting noise all the time. Just like a little piggy. Funniest damn thing. That little monkey-faced dog snored louder than my dad, too. We had to shut her in the downstairs laundry at night so that we could sleep. I sorta miss my friends at school. I miss my mom and dad, I guess. But,” he laughed, “most of all I miss my goddamn Gameboy.”
Nick and Cricket stared at him. Finally, Nick asked, “Danny, why’d you run away in the first place?”
“Huh? Oh, because I set the school on fire. After I saw all the fire trucks and police cars, I thought it might be a good idea to get out of town.”
“You did what?” Cricket and Nick asked at the same time.
“Well,” Danny said defensively, “I was pissed at that sour old tit Mrs. Kerry. She’s the one that took my Gameboy.”
“So you burned the school down?” Nick asked.
“Yes. No. Well sorta. I tried to. I only managed to burn up a bunch of bushes and part of the roof before—”
“That’s great, Danny,” Cricket interrupted. “How about you, Nick? Why’d you leave?”
“Because I had to.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated. Some guys moved into my grandmother’s house. Turned into a bad scene.”
“How bad?” Cricket asked.
Nick rolled up his sleeve, showed them the burn on his arm.
Cricket looked at him. “That’s bad.”
“Well, I’ve got my mom to thank for that one.”
“Your mom did that?”
“No, but it was her fault, it was her idea to rent out the rooms in my granny’s house. Hell, it was her idea to move back to Brooklyn in the first place. We used to live at Fort Bragg, down in North Carolina, but after my dad died Mom decided we needed to move in with Granny. Said it was because money was tight. That was the same excuse she used to talk Granny into renting out the downstairs rooms. And that’s how Marko and his pals ended up in our house. Marko’s the one that burned me.”
Nick shook his head. “I mean I could see that those guys were shit the first time
I met them. Right? But Mom, she was so glad to have some tenants, she just bent over backward for them. Turns out these guys are fucking street-level drug dealers and here’s my mom making them feel right at home. I mean, can you believe that?
“Soon we had these kids coming and going, running dope all over the place. A regular operation working out of our back porch. By then even my mom had caught on. I mean it wasn’t like these guys were going out of their way to be discreet. They pretty much acted like they owned the place.”
“Didn’t she call the police?” Cricket asked.
“No, that’s just it. She wouldn’t. We got in an argument about that. She said Marko had told her if she called the cops, he’d make sure it looked like she was in on it. If that happened the state would take me away from her, or seize Granny’s house. Bunch of crap like that. I think Marko had laid it on thick. Had scared her to death. Anyway, Marko must’ve got wind of our argument, because it was shortly after that him and his pals gave me this.” Nick tapped the burn mark.
“So you left?”
“You bet. I fucked up their setup and got out of there.”
Cricket looked at him, horrified. “You left your mom and grandmother behind…alone in that house with…them?”
“No…I mean, yeah. I left them, but don’t make it sound like I deserted them.”
“Nick, that’s terrible. Think about how scared your mom must be without you there.”
“She’s the one that brought them in!” Nick said angrily. “She’s the one that wouldn’t call the cops. What was I supposed to do? Stay there and put up with Marko’s crap? The guy was going to kill me.”
“Nick, think about it. They probably told her they’d hurt you and your grandmother if she did anything or told anyone. There’s no telling what-all they said to her.” Cricket shook her head. “That poor woman is in such an awful situation. What’s she going to do? I can’t believe you just up and left her there like that.”
“You don’t understand. You weren’t there. It’s not like you think. It’s—” He stopped. “Never mind. Just never fucking mind!” Nick got up and stomped away, crossed the chamber, and went into the privy. He pushed the door shut and dropped the latch. He pressed his back against the door, ignoring the clicking and rustling coming from the toilet. He stared at his reflection in the broken mirror and saw a dozen angry faces glaring back at him.