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Chapter 35: The Fear

  Terror gripped Satchel. What had happened to them? He tried listening for even the tiniest sound, but his heart beat so hard that it made his ears throb. He couldn’t make out anything distinct.

  After waiting several moments, Satchel gripped the hilt of his dagger and clenched his teeth. He had to hold back the fear. He had to.

  He took one step. Then another. And another.

  Slowly, he moved in the direction he thought the sounds had come from. He stumbled into a patch of trampled grass. The young thief picked out Basco and Jarek’s steps easily. They were scattered all around, going this way, then that. To his surprise, the other set of prints was not what he expected: bare feet so small that they could have belonged to a child.

  Satchel thought of calling out their names but knew it would be foolish. He scanned the ground, searching for any sign that might tell him something. Finding none, he searched through the tall grass of it until he caught sight of the little shack rising above the fog line off in the distance.

  The door opened and something dark moved sluggishly up the ramp and into the shack, closing the door behind it with a thud. At this distance and with the fog obscuring his vision, Satchel had not been able to make much out, but he was sure he saw it dragging something. Or, perhaps, two somethings.

  The more he replayed the scene in his mind, the more Satchel became convinced that Jarek and Basco had been taken to that shack. Could it have been the old woman they were seeking? Basco had said she was supposed to be powerful. Strong as they were, could the two men have fought against someone who could use magic?

  Satchel gulped. A decision lay before him like a path that splits two ways. He could run away from the danger like he always did. That’s what Jarek taught him. Better to run and live than risk a fight. But, Jarek had also said that there comes a time when there’s something worth risking your life for, something that needed protection.

  If he went to the shack, he had no idea what to expect; he’d, in essence, be blind. He cursed his hands as they trembled. His mind was of no help. He imagined a ghastly hag waving her hands, casting magic all about her, burning Satchel alive.

  He looked back in the direction he had come and remembered wide-open fields and firmer ground inviting him. He could have gotten help from the Leona militia or even Orvis. The manservant would know what to do. Besides, Jarek and Basco knew how to handle themselves. They’d seen far worse than this, right?

  Satchel looked at the dagger in his hand and tightened his grip. He then slid into the tall grass and made for the shack.

  The little building drew steadily nearer as Satchel worked his way through the flora. His heart pounded hard in his chest, and his fingers twitched on the handle of the knife. He wished he was back in Ire where everything was familiar. Dealing with the local guards and ruffians was easy; he had done it hundreds of times before.

  This was different. This was unknown, and his imagination taunted him with visions of his arms turning into tentacles or being boiled alive in a pot. His thoughts so distracted him that he did not see the edge of the water before his foot stepped in and made a loud splash. Horrified, Satchel leaped back and dropped low. He waited several long, quiet minutes. But if anything had seen him, they didn’t come.

  The young thief pushed himself up just enough to see the shack above the top of the grass. He got back to his feet and moved once more, this time paying closer attention to the ground in front of him. The fog was so thick now that he couldn’t tell if the body of water in front of him was a pond, river or lake, so he followed the edge while keeping the shack within sight. However, the further he went along, the farther away the shack drifted. He began to wonder if he would have to swim. The darkness and stench of the water made this a less-than-appealing proposition. Luckily, he came upon a little lane that led toward the old building. The lane wound this way and that with water on either side, but Satchel could tell he was nearing the shack.

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  Finally, he was within a few yards of it and the lane lead straight to the entrance. The door was closed. Satchel detected neither movement nor sound. He readied his dagger and began his approach. Staying low, he moved to one of the corners of the building and crept along its perimeter, searching for openings. To his dismay, he found no gaps in the wood wide enough to look through. The front door was the only way in.

  Satchel moved cautiously back around to the ramp that went from the ground up to the bottom of the door. He eyed the gap at the long edge of the door. From the way it pressed against the frame, he could tell it had been barred. Crawling underneath the ramp, Satchel looked at the connection between the ramp and the shack, and an idea struck him. He set to work quickly and quietly.

  Emerging moments later, he approached the shore of the lake. Picking up a stone that fit nicely in his palm, he faced the door. Satchel cocked his arm back, took aim and hurled the rock as hard as he could. The stone struck the door with a loud bang and ricocheted into the water with a splash. Satchel heard stomping footsteps then the sliding of the wooden bar across the door. He steadied his breathing. The door flung open.

  “Who dares?” said a high-pitched voice. It belonged to the most wretched being Satchel had ever seen. Her shriveled face was like a gnarled tree trunk twisted into anger. Wild, matted gray hair shot out in all directions from her head, some of it falling halfway down her grubby black dress. Though shorter than Satchel, a dark and powerful aura around her made her seem larger. Satchel swallowed down a fresh wave of fear and kept his eyes fixed on her as he stepped from his hiding place in the tall grass.

  C’mon, he thought. C’mon, you old hag.

  The woman’s eyes fell on him, and she grimaced. Pointing a finger at Satchel, she yelled, “You!”

  She started down the ramp. Suddenly, the middle board collapsed, and the woman slammed into the ground. Satchel shot forward. The hag began to rise when the thief kicked her side, knocking her on her back. He then pressed his foot on her chest and held his knife to her neck.

  “Do anything and I cut you,” Satchel said. “Where are the other two?”

  She blinked a few times and then stared wide-eyed at the knife. Her gaze went to the boy’s face. For several long moments, they stared hard at one another.

  “What other two?” said the old woman.

  “You ambushed two men in the woods earlier today. What have you done with them?”

  “Oh, them. I haven’t done anything to ‘em. Go inside and see for yourself.”

  Her sudden shift in demeanor jarred him, but Satchel kept his hand steady. “I won’t fall for that. You’re not turning me into a frog.”

  The old woman cocked an eyebrow. “A what?” She then let out an amused cackle.

  “Little man,” she said, “if I had willed it, I would have drowned you the moment you stepped into my swamp. I’ve seen you comin’ for several days now. The bones said so. They just didn’t know what choice you’d make.”

  “Bones? Choice? What do you mean?”

  “Whether you’d have helped your friends or not. Don’t worry you’ve passed my little test. I won’t do nothin’ to you.”

  She started to rise, but Satchel didn’t budge.

  “I still don’t buy it.”

  In an annoyed tone, the hag said, “Get off.” She trained an open palm on Satchel’s chest. He suddenly found his world spinning as he flew up into the air. He landed hard a few feet away and dropped his knife.

  “I told you I’m not gonna do nothin’ to you,” he heard her say.

  The hag stood a little way off holding his dagger with the hilt out, as though inviting him to reclaim it. Satchel got to his feet. Hesitantly, he approached her and reached for the knife. He took it from her and put it back in its sheath.

  “Your two friends are inside restin’ for now,” she said. “Come in and see for yourself.”

  She turned to go up the ramp, stopped and looked down.

  The old woman let out a small laugh. “Ah yes. Quite clever. Removin’ the brace and weakenin’ the board like that. And so quietly too! Didn’t even see it comin’.” She half-turned back to him waggling a finger. “You got skill, I’ll give you that.”

  She mumbled something and clapped her hands twice. The board replaced itself, fully mended. She then walked up the ramp, stood to one side of the doorway and turned.

  She motioned to him, saying, “Well? I’m not gettin’ any younger.”

  Satchel didn’t understand what was happening. Despite his unease, he walked slowly up the ramp and into the wooden hut, eyeing the middle board as he did.

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