MADDIE HAD REACHED THE BARRED GATE THAT CLOSED THE entrance to the cave.
She was fumbling with the keys, searching for the correct one. Inside the cave, she heard a querulous voice cry out. Obviously, the prisoners thought the time had come for them to be taken to the ship. They could see only a dark, cloaked figure at the entrance. One of them began to cry.
“Quiet!” she hissed. “It’s all right! I’m here to help you. I—”
She became aware of running feet behind her and whirled around. Ruhl and his men were racing back up the sand toward her. For a moment, she thought she’d been discovered, and she reached into her shot pouch to load her sling.
Then she heard Ruhl issuing a string of orders.
“Get your weapons! Brad, bring your crossbow! They’re in the rocks at the base of the cliff. Spread out, use cover as much as you can!”
Maddie pressed herself against the dark rock face beside the gate. Inside, one of the children was still crying. She could hear another making soothing noises and trying to comfort his companion. She wished fervently that they’d both shut up. All she needed now was for Ruhl or one of his men to come and see what was happening.
The Stealer was still yelling orders and she turned back to the cave, hoping that the slavers wouldn’t hear her above his shouting.
“Quiet!” she hissed again. “Quiet or I’ll come in there and whip you!”
She was reluctant to threaten the obviously terrified children that way, but it seemed to have the desired effect. The crying died away to a few desperate muffled sobs. She shrugged. She’d make it up to the unfortunate child later.
In the rocks at the base of the cliffs, Will had been studying his handiwork with grim satisfaction. The black ship was now halfway out of the bay, drifting on the outgoing tide while her reduced crew struggled to get a pair of oars in the water.
He’d had a moment of panic when Ruhl had led his men back to the tents.
At the time, he feared that someone had spotted Maddie. Then he heard the slaver yelling orders and realized they were fetching their weapons before coming after him.
“Should have thought of that,” he muttered. It was one of those unforeseeable things that can spoil a plan. He hoped they hadn’t caught Maddie napping. Then he saw the slavers heading back down the beach again, rushing from cover to cover.
He thought about whittling their numbers down a little but rejected the idea. If he made things too risky for them now, they might stay in cover close to the camp, and that would ruin Maddie’s chances of getting the children out. He needed to let them reach the rocks, needed them to follow him as he led them away.
“Time enough to reduce their numbers tomorrow,” he said and began to make his way up the rough path to the cliff top.
Without thinking about it, he moved silently and swiftly, as he had practiced for so many years. Then he realized that this wasn’t the time for stealth. He wanted them to see him and to follow him. There was a small pile of rocks on the edge of the path and he nudged them over with his boot, sending them clattering and bouncing down the cliff face.
Ruhl heard the noise, looked up and saw the dark figure halfway up the cliff.
“There they go!” he yelled, pointing the way. Then he led a rush toward the base of the cliff. One of his men, armed with a crossbow, stopped and knelt down to aim. He aimed the weapon at the dark figure on the path and tripped the trigger.
Will heard the all too recognizable slamming sound of a crossbow releasing and dropped flat to the ground. A second later, the heavy quarrel buzzed overhead and screeched off the rocks, its iron point striking sparks where it hit.
The crossbowman stood. He had seen his target drop to the ground as he
“I got him!” he yelled in triumph.
Ruhl snarled at him. “You missed him, you fool! There he goes again!”
The dark figure was back on his feet, moving quickly to the crest of the cliff. As Ruhl urged his men on, the crossbowman paused to reload. He put his foot into the stirrup at the front of the short, stubby bow, and heaved back on the thick string with both arms. Will turned as he reached the top of the path. The crossbowman was in the open, straining at the heavy string on his weapon. Will hated crossbowmen. He nocked an arrow, drew back and released, sending a shaft flashing down the cliff face.
It struck the crossbowman full in the chest. He gave a shriek of pain, then staggered back and fell, dropping his weapon. Ruhl paused to take it from his lifeless hands, and dragged the quiver of short, heavy quarrels free. Then he glanced back up to the top of the cliff. But the dark figure, who had been briefly silhouetted when he turned to shoot, was gone.
“Come on!” he yelled, leading a renewed rush. “There’s only one man!”
As he plowed up the path, it occurred to him that it might be only one man, but the casual ease with which he had picked off the crossbowman might prove to be a problem.
• • •
The lock on the gate was stiff and Maddie wrestled with it for what seemed like a lifetime before it suddenly sprang free. She dragged the gate open and was met by a chorus of frightened voices. In the darkness, she sensed rather than saw the children inching back—away from her.
“It’s all right. I’m a friend. I’m here to help you.”
She tried to make her voice calm and reassuring. But the tension and excitement made it come out like a high-pitched, nervous shriek. She realized that they could only see her as a cloaked silhouette against the lights on the beach. She swung her cloak off and held her arms out.
“Look! I’m a girl! I’m a Ranger and I’m here to help you. Come on now.”
Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness in the cave, and she could make them out now—a group of dim shapes huddled together. One, a boy who was taller than the others, stepped forward suspiciously.
“You’re not a Ranger. Girls aren’t Rangers,” he said.
She took a deep breath. She wanted to grab his nose and drag him out of
the cave. But she knew if she did that, she’d never get the rest of them moving. They’d huddle together and cry. She forced herself to be calm, forced her voice into a lower, more normal, register.
“Well, I am. My name’s Maddie and I’m apprenticed to Will Treaty.”
There was a low murmur of recognition. Everyone had heard of Will Treaty. She realized the power of the name and invoked it again.
“Will wants you to come with me and go back up the cliff. He’ll meet up with us tomorrow, after he’s finished off the Stealer and his friends. Now come on.”
They hesitated still and she took the tall boy’s arm. “What’s your name?”
she asked.
“Tim. Tim Stoker.”
“Well, listen to me, Tim. I need you to help me. Take charge of the little ones and get them up that path. I’ll bring up the rear to make sure no one follows us. All right?”
She made her voice as calm and reassuring as she could, looking steadily into his eyes. She saw his back straighten as he accepted the job she’d give him.
“All right,” he said. Then he turned to the others. “Follow me, everyone.
Do as the Ranger says. It’s all right. She’ll look after us.”
Nervously, reluctantly, they began to move out of the cave, the tall boy leading the way. Maddie stood to one side, ushering them out, pointing them toward the cliff path, shoving them gently on their way. Moving with a maddening lack of speed, they began to climb the rough track behind Tim Stoker.
• • •
The Storyman was a coward.
He was more than happy to frighten young children with tales of the Stealer in the Night, and the terrible things that would follow if they told their parents one word about him. But when it came to following a skilled archer up a dark cliff, that was another matter altogether.
He too had noticed the casual ease with which Will had brought down the man with the crossbow. He’d seen another gang member dropped cold on the deck of the ship, and a third spun around by an arrow through the arm. He wasn’t going to chance that he’d be the next victim. It was one thing to terrify
helpless children. Facing a skilled and determined warrior was a different kettle of fish.
He hesitated at the base of the cliff. He looked back uncertainly toward the camp, then narrowed his eyes. Something was moving on the path by the cave where the prisoners were confined. He strained his eyes and uttered a low curse. There was a line of figures wending their way up the path.
He turned back to alert his companions. But the nearest was halfway up the cliff, and Jory himself was already scrambling over the crest. He came to a decision. Let Jory and the others take care of the lone archer. He’d recapture the prisoners, who had somehow escaped.
He turned and began to run back toward the campsite.
• • •
Will saw the first figure come over the crest of the cliff, crouching low to avoid an arrow. He snorted disdainfully. If he wanted to, he could drop the man easily, crouching or not. But that wasn’t his task at the moment. He had to lead them away to give Maddie a chance.
He started to run through the waist-high scrub. Then he stopped, grabbed a nearby bush and shook it violently, kicking at its lower branches to snap them.
Ruhl heard him. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw the dark figure moving away.
“This way!” the Stealer yelled, then added, “Spread out! Don’t make an easy target!”
Will nodded in satisfaction. He’d keep making noise and letting them see him until dawn. Then, when he’d led them far to the south, he’d start moving more cautiously and double back to meet Maddie.
• • •
Maddie heard feet pounding on the beach as the Storyman approached. She was a few meters from the cave, ready to intercept any pursuit. The last of the children was halfway to the first switchback, some five meters above the beach. She shrank back against the rough cliff face, pulling the cloak around her. She took a shot from her pouch and loaded it into the sling.
The Storyman burst into sight from behind the tents and ran past without seeing her, moving too fast for her to react. He plunged up the path after the
children, eating up the distance with his long strides. They began to cry out in terror as they saw the frightening blue-cloaked figure chasing them. The last in line, a girl, tried to run and slipped on the loose shale. Then the Storyman was upon her, his cloak swirling around him like the wings of some evil night creature. He dragged her upright, shouting furiously at her. The girl cried in terror, held fast in his grip.
Maddie hesitated. If she threw now, the shot might well hit the girl.
“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you disobeyed? Didn’t I? Didn’t I?” The Storyman shook the girl violently and she screamed all the louder as her terror grew.
“Leave her alone! Let her go, you coward!”
The young voice cut through the Storyman’s shouting and the girl’s sobs.
It was Tim Stoker, the tall boy Maddie had ordered to lead the way. He came plunging back down the cliff path now, shoving past the other children, sliding and slipping on the loose rocks. Off balance and unable to stop, he blundered awkwardly into the Storyman, who released the girl, throwing her back against the cliff face. He grabbed Tim’s collar instead, reaching with his free hand to a draw a long-bladed knife from a boot sheath.
“Defy me, would you? Let’s see how brave you are when I cut you, you little swine!”
His arm went back, preparing to bring the blade across the boy’s throat in a long slashing movement. Maddie knew she had to risk a shot now. If she hesitated, Tim would die.
She whipped the sling over and forward. The lead ball caught the moonlight, glinting once as it flashed toward its target. Then it smashed home below the Storyman’s raised right arm.
He gasped with the shock and the sudden, savage pain as the heavy lead ball splintered a rib. He dropped the knife and released his grip on Tim’s collar. He drew in a breath to scream and the action caused him more agony as the jagged ends of the fractured rib grated together. He screamed even louder, clasping both hands to his shattered side. He turned, stumbled on the uneven footing, then realized that there was nothing but air beneath his right foot.
For a moment, he seemed to waver, tottering off balance as he slowly leaned farther over the drop. Then he fell, landing with a sickening crunch on the rocks below.
Maddie was already moving up the path. She gently caught hold of the
young girl and helped her to her feet.
“Come on, my dear one. You’re safe now,” she said.
The little girl looked up at her, wide-eyed. Then, slowly, a smile spread over her face as she realized that the terrifying Storyman was gone.
“I am. I’m safe now,” she repeated.
Maddie patted her shoulder and gently shoved her on her way up the cliff once more. The other children, who had been frozen in place, slowly began to move again.
“Faster!” Maddie urged, with an edge on her voice. “You’ve got to move faster.”
She turned back to help Tim Stoker to his feet. He had been sprawled on the rocks when the Storyman had released him. His face was white with fear as he remembered how close he had come to dying.
“You’re a brave boy,” she told him. It didn’t occur to her that he was only a few years younger than she. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, knowing his voice would quaver uncontrollably. She put a hand on his shoulder and urged him up the path after the others.
“Get moving, Tim. We have to get out of here.” She realized that it might help if she gave him a further task. “Keep them moving. Get them to move faster. Can you do that for me?”
His eyes were huge, the fear still in them. Then he gradually brought himself under control and nodded.
“Wh-where’s the Storyman?” he asked. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. One moment he was staring at that long knife as it prepared to slash down at him. The next, he was sprawling on the rocky path. Maddie squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
“You don’t need to worry about him anymore,” she said. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?” he repeated, wanting to be sure. She nodded emphatically.
“Stone dead,” she said, suddenly aware of the unintended irony. Tim studied her face for a few seconds, then turned away, starting up the cliff.
“I’ll keep them moving,” he said. She watched him go and let out a long, pent-up breath. Then, just to make sure, she moved to the edge of the cliff and peered over.
The Storyman was a dark shape on the rocks below. His cloak fluttered in the breeze. He had landed on his back across an upthrusting rock and now his body was twisted at an unnatural angle. There was no sign of movement.
“Tell that in one of your stories,” she said savagely. Then she started up the path after the children.
