Brom - The Child Thief

A soft thud followed by a long, low growl slid out of the shadows and the pixies zipped up and away, leaving Nick alone. Nick found himself wishing they’d stayed, anything but to be alone in a cage, in the gloom, with whatever had made that noise.

Another creak; this one closer. Pushing his face against the bars, Nick strained to see into the shadows. He made out a twisting pillar of roots that disappeared into the darkness above. Nick noted a shadow hunched next to the roots, and the shadow—it was moving ! It rocked back and forth then darted away.

“Oh, crap.” What was that?

The room grew brighter and the fog began to thin. He could now make out objects hanging from the walls. Nick blinked. Knives with wicked curved blades hung in rows. Alongside were spiked clubs and an assortment of jagged-edged hatchets. Instruments designed to rend and maim, and they all looked well used. Hanging above the weapons were three skulls tied together in a pyramid. Their leathery, wormholed flesh stretched across silent screams. A pair of leg bones set in a cross hung below, forming a triptych of Jolly Rogers.

Gotta get out of here now ! He pushed on the cage; it didn’t open. He noticed the front was tied with leather straps. He frantically tugged at the ties. A low hiss came from Nick’s left. He jerked about in time to see something skittered by on all fours. Nick gave up on the ties, no longer wanting out, only hoping the bars would keep him safe from whatever was out there.

“God, get me out of here,” he whimpered.

The fog continued to lift and he could now see all manner of spears and swords hanging from the walls. He noticed a huge fireplace, easily big enough for three grown men to stand in. Several cooking pots— kid-size cooking pots—hung from greasy black chains. Then he saw the bodies . He could just make out their limp, lifeless forms hanging on the far side of the chamber. How many were there? Four? Five maybe? They looked to be children.

Oh good God , Nick’s mind screamed at him. Just what kind of place is this?

Low howls issued from the shadows all around him. Something grunted, like a pig, then snorted, then snickered. Giggles broke out. They sounded like children, strange and wicked. Nick knew he would lose it if they didn’t stop.

A clump of shadows crept into the light and all the air left Nick’s lungs.

They were human, but barely, their bodies gangly and spidery. Childlike in their proportions, but a bit off, as though they’d been stretched. Large, round spots and long streaks of body paint ran along their legs and arms. Their muscles gleamed in the dim light, lean and wiry. Some wore hides, matted and mangy, festooned with bones, tusks and twigs, their ankles and wrists layered in bracelets of leather and twine. Their faces were hidden beneath devilish masks of hide and hair, feathers and antlers.

They closed in on him, dancing about with quick epileptic movements. They surrounded the cage and peered in with wild, crazy golden eyes, eyes just like Peter’s. Nick now understood that Peter had indeed played him. The pointy-eared boy had tricked him so that these things could…could what? Nick glanced at the long knives, at their hungry eyes.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Nick shouted, his voice quivering.

They answered by rolling their eyes around, like victims of delirium, by grinning wide, toothy grins and clacking their teeth together, clacking and clacking and clacking; the sound was deafening in the silence of the room.

No, no, no , Nick thought. No more, please.

Nick withdrew within himself then, just like in the mist. He had no desire to watch his own death, but if he had to, he wanted to be in the very back row with his hands over his eyes.

They untied his cage and dragged him out, strong, cruel fingers pinching into his flesh. Someone put a necklace made of bone and teeth, fingers and ears— human fingers and ears —around his neck. They pulled him over to the pillar and began to dance around him in circles, wrapping him in twine, all the while giggling and flicking their tongues at him, rolling their eyes and clacking their teeth. He wanted them to go ahead and kill him, anything to stop that awful clacking.

There came a clang from somewhere far off. The demon spawn, the monster children, or whatever they were, stopped in their tracks. They fell silent.

The mist was all but gone now and morning light filtered in from several angular windows. The extent of the circular chamber gradually materialized out of the gloom. The walls were a mix of rough-hewn stone and natural cave formation. Nick could clearly see a red door surrounded by giant roots, roots as thick as barrels. Nick couldn’t imagine what size tree could have roots that big. He tried to see the top but it disappeared into the roof of the chamber.

The demon spawn were all staring at the red door. One of them spoke, his voice hushed. “The Devil Beast comes.”

“Comes to break bones and chew marrow,” said another.

Several answered in anxious whispers: “We shall all eat soon.”

They spread out, forming a wide circle, and began to smack their closed fists into their open palms.

Fear sharpened Nick’s senses and he became acutely aware that the air smelled of stale sweat, boiled meat, wet leaves, and beetles. He studied the red door. Could there really be something coming to cook and eat him? He didn’t want to believe it. Yet he found his eyes straying to the knives and hatchets, the dark stains saturating the dirt, the child-size pots hanging in the fireplace. He couldn’t get the thought of the hanging bodies out of his head. I don’t want to die , he thought and realized he was crying.

Bells jangled behind the red door, louder and louder. Then it stopped. There came the clack of a bolt being thrown and the door swung slowly inward.

A monster stood in the doorway, a head taller than the other creatures, draped in hides and wearing a mask of bone and fur. A pair of goat horns twisted out from either side of its head and a tangle of coarse hair was captured in a thick braid that ran down the length of its back. And all of it, skin, mask, fur, horns, was covered in cracking red paint. It carried a short club with one long jagged hook protruding from its end.

It locked its eyes on Nick, raised the club, and let loose a loud snort.

“Oh no!” Nick cried. “No! No! No!” He jerked wildly at his bindings, tugging and pulling until he freed his arms. He yanked down the twine around his waist and legs, stumbled to the ground as he tore his feet free. Nick rolled to his feet, glanced back, saw the Devil Beast coming for him, and ran. He tried to break out of the ring of creatures, to barrel right through them, but they grabbed him and shoved him back.

The Devil Beast caught Nick across his face with an open palm. Pain exploded in Nick’s head and he went sprawling to the stones. He crumpled into a ball and lay there clutching his head. It’s over , Nick thought. I’m dead .

The Devil came for him, driving a hard kick into Nick’s upper thigh. Nick screamed, saw a foot coming for his face, and managed to move. The kick caught his shoulder and sent him tumbling.

“STOP IT!” Nick screamed.

The Devil tromped after him, raising the club with its wicked hook above his head. Nick sprung out of the way. The club hit the stones, getting knocked loose from the Devil Beast’s grasp and bouncing across the floor to the middle of the ring. Nick jumped up, limping away, trying to keep some distance between himself and his tormentor.

The Devil leaped forward, catching Nick by the arm, spun him around, and backhanded him across the face.