Part 4 (1/2)

He turned to his oldest son. ”You're going to have to take my place,” he said.

”Why should you go?” asked his wife. ”n.o.body else will be there. n.o.body would dare.” She sat at the table braiding the youngest boy's hair for bed.

”They will,” he said. ”They're counting on me. But I'll be back soon enough. And I think I know a way to take this whole b.l.o.o.d.y mess off of your mind. We'll go fis.h.i.+ng tomorrow.”

She looked at him in disbelief. ”Fis.h.i.+ng?”

He leaned in close then whispered in her ear so the children couldn't hear. ”Happy plans will put the children at ease.”

She looked down and said nothing.

Barg kissed her gently on the cheek. Then he considered his girl and two boys. The firelight sparkled in their dark eyes. To think they had played with that woman's hatchlings.

”I'll be back soon enough,” he a.s.sured them. ”We're taking quarter watches is all.” Then he belted on his sword and picked up his spear. Foss, their hunting dog, rose to go with him, and Barg opened the door.

The smoke in the room curled out into the night. Barg pointed at the children. ”You do your ch.o.r.es and get to bed and when you wake up in the morning, we'll be off.”

”To the river or the beach?” asked his oldest.

They loved the beach. It would be a long day, but it would give them something to think about.

”The beach,” he said. ”We'll roast crabs.”

Then he shut the door behind him. He took a long drink of water from the bucket at the well then set off down the path that led to the Smith's ruin, Foss padding along at his side.

Smoke from the fires still hung heavily in the air. At the other end of the village, the last remains of Sparrow's house smoldered. The fires had burned low, but they still cast enough light to silhouette the barn and outbuildings of the house next to Barg's.

Barg glanced back at his house a few times as he walked. The shutters were latched and snug. His wife had barred the door. They would be fine.

As Barg got closer to the site, he looked about for the others. There were supposed to be ten men on each watch. Perhaps they were all bunched up behind the barn. But when he rounded the corner of the barn, he found his wife had been right: n.o.body was there.

A few small fires still licked the last remains of Sparrow's house and smithy. Barg skirted around the wide area of ash and burning coals, for the whole mess still produced a blistering heat. A small flame rose at the edge of a blackened log close to him only to disappear moments later. He paused. All was silent except for the crackling and popping of the fire. He looked at the surrounding houses of the village.

Cowards.

He'd roust them out of bed, every one.

Then something moved in the shadows at the edge of where the house had stood. Barg peered into the swallowing darkness. A tall man moved aside a charcoal log, kicking up sparks. It looked like the miller. He reached into the hot coals and pulled something out.

”Ha,” Barg called to him. ”It's good to see there's more than one stout heart among us.”

Foss stopped and began to growl.

Then the man straightened up and turned, and Barg got a look at him in the firelight.

That was not the miller. He was taller than anyone Barg had ever seen, but his arms and legs weren't proportioned like a man's; they were thicker than they should be. And his face-it was all wrong. He had a mouth that was dark, ragged, and huge. A mouth that seemed to crack his head in two.

That was no man.

A tuft of hair on the creature's arm caught fire. The flamed brightly then receded into red and yellow sparks that fell to the ground. And Barg realized it wasn't hair. It was gra.s.s. Patches all along its arm had burned, some of them still full of dull red sparks. A clump of smoldering gra.s.s fell from the creature's arm to the ground.

Barg saw what the creature held. It was Sparrow's scorched leg, reduced almost completely to bone.

The creature flung Sparrow's leg aside and began to walk toward Barg. The ashes and coals of the smithy stood between them, but the creature did not walk around them. It walked straight into the blistering coals, over a tangle of charcoal logs, and through one of the remaining fires. The long ragged gra.s.s about its legs began to burn and smoke, but the creature did not waver or cry out.

G.o.ds, Barg thought. Keep your calm. Keep your calm.

The thing's mouth gaped like a cavern. Its eyes. Lords, where were its eyes? And then he saw them-two pits all askew.

Filthy rot. Filthy, twisted rot! Regret himself had sent this thing.

Barg brought his spear up, took two steps, and, with all his might, yelled and hurled the weapon.

The creature did not flinch or step aside, and the spear buried itself in the creature's chest.

”To arms!” Barg shouted and unsheathed his sword. ”We're attacked! To arms! To arms!”

There would be others here shortly. And together they would dispatch this monster. All Barg had to do was keep his courage. Keep it like he'd done this morning and not run away.

The creature strode on as if nothing had happened. It plucked the spear out of its chest, like a man plucking straw from his tunic, and flung it into the ashes.

Foss surged forward to the edge of the coals, but Barg took a step backward. He glanced at the homes; n.o.body had emerged. It was just him and his sword.

The creature strode forward.

G.o.ds, but it was huge. Barg took another step back, and then he turned and fled.

Foss stayed back. He snarled, barked, then let out a huge yelp. A moment later Barg heard the dog running. Barg glanced back. Foss was stretched out, galloping for his life. Behind him, the creature loped after them both, a thin line of fire burning up one of its sides.

Foss pa.s.sed Barg and ran towards the house. Barg turned and realized he was running the wrong way: he was running away from the other houses and help. But to go back to the houses meant he would have to run back toward the beast.

Then the door to his house opened. The firelight shone into the night, silhouetting his wife standing in the doorway.

”No,” he yelled. ”Go back!” But he knew it was too late. The creature surely would have seen her, which meant that now, even if Barg were to change his direction, the monster might not follow him.

”Get the children!” he yelled as he ran into the yard.

”Barg?” his wife said in alarm. Then her face twisted in horror and she backed into the house.

The creature chuffed behind him.

Barg spun around, holding his sword at the ready.

The thing stood not ten paces away. The fire had risen and burned its shoulder and head.