People of the Masks(173)
Jumping Badger took a step backward, and bumped into something. He whirled, and the severed head toppled forward, bashing him in the face. The overpowering stench struck him first, then he felt the half-melted flesh clinging to his forehead, and trickling down his temple. He twisted away, and wiped frantically at the putrid slime. The mask had fallen off when the head hit the ground. Bone gleamed on the rotted head where once there had been scalp.
Loud, gleeful laughter. The hideous cackle mixed with the roaring fires, and rose like a shriek inside him.
Jumping Badger cried out, aimed his bow, and shot Lamedeer through the mouth.
I’m so glad you brought me along. I’ve been waiting for this.
“Shut up!” Jumping Badger flung his bow aside, reached for the staff and slammed the head into the ground, shrieking like a madman. “Don’t talk to me! I can’t stand it!”
He gripped the staff, swung it round and round and cast it into the forest, then stumbled to a stop, breathing hard.
His warriors gaped. The captives watched him in shock.
A huge ball of fire danced through the mist over the plaza, as if it had flown very high, and now plunged downward toward them.
Little Wren whimpered, and curled into a ball.
Jumping Badger turned on her. “I’m going to kill you first, girl! Do you hear that, boy? I’m killing the girl first!”
He reached for Wren’s throat, and she screamed.
And another scream shredded the night, hoarse and chilling, as if being torn from a child’s stomach by a stone fish hook.
Jumping Badger turned and saw the dwarf child running as fast his short legs would carry him, dashing across the plaza with his pitiful child’s bow up. The boy’s mangled hands could barely steady the nocked arrow. A horrified cry of determination tore from his throat.
Jumping Badger laughed. “You think you can kill me with that, boy? That arrow is not even long enough to—”
The boy fired.
And from all around the child, rolling fireballs flared, seeming to come from the ends of his hair, his hands, his eyes.
An incoherent cry escaped Jumping Badger’s mouth as, first, the boy’s little arrow struck his chest, then the balls of fire. Like claps of silent lightning, each knocked him back until he collapsed on his knees, his clothes ablaze.
“Put it out!” he shrieked. “I’m on fire, put it out!”
None of his warriors moved.
The boy ran past Jumping Badger, his white cape flying around his malformed legs, threw down his bow, and wrapped his arms around Wren, breathlessly sobbing, “Wren? Wren, are you all right?”
Jumping Badger rolled on the ground to put out the fire, tearing at his clothes … .
“Don’t move!”
The order came from the dark hill where the False Face Child had first appeared.
The fire out, Jumping Badger sprawled on his back, and weakly clutched at the five large arrows, and one small arrow, that pierced his chest.
Warriors began to emerge from the misty shadows, their faces drawn, bows aimed. Several carried torches.
The Walksalong warriors looked around, assessing their odds, and began to mutter to each other.
“Lower your bows!” a corpulent man with a bloated face ordered as he waddled from the trees. “Do it now! Do you wish to die?”
Jumping Badger felt as if a granite boulder weighted his chest. He couldn’t get air. He blinked wearily as he watched his men drop their bows and lift their hands over their heads. “No …” he rasped.
Breathless, triumphant laughter.
It filled the village, loud and raucous, the insane hilarity of victory.
Jumping Badger’s face contorted.
Mist spun around him, spawning bizarre monstrous creatures three times the height of a man. Thousands … there were thousands! Dancing. Leaping. One face formed clearly. The face of a little boy with glowing ember eyes. It swayed above him. The boy leaned over, his undulant arms made of swirling fog, his mouth a hollow of firelight, and he smiled. Then he reached for Jumping Badger … .
Dust Moon inspected the corpulent man who waddled into the plaza. “Blessed Spirits, that’s Spotted Frog.”
“Yes,” Sparrow said. “Dust, help me to walk.”
She slipped her arm around his waist. “Put your arm over my shoulders.”
As Spotted Frog’s warriors closed in around the plaza, Cornhusk came running from the trees with his arms wide, calling, “Please, everyone be calm. You’re safe! Everything’s all right!”
The Silent Crow warriors collected weapons and searched the Walksalong men.
Gull rose from the circle of captives. Tears filled his eyes. He looked at Spotted Frog, and said, “Where did you come from? We thought we were dead.”