Dreams and Shadows - By C. Robert Cargill Page 0,60
Yashar.
Coyote pointed out into the night. “The boys are out in the wildwood.”
“Why aren’t they here, asleep?”
“They wanted to spend some time together before you and the boy were banished at sunrise.” Coyote raised an eyebrow as if asking you didn’t know that?
Yashar looked at Dithers. “Why are we being banished?”
Dithers shrugged, his malformed head bobbling with confusion. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“The council,” said Coyote, “felt that the boy was somehow a threat to the Tithe Child.”
“The Tithe Child? You didn’t mention that you had a . . . ,” began Yashar. Then he realized what he was saying. “Oh.” He looked squarely at Dithers. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Dithers looked back at Yashar unapologetically. “If you know what that is, then you know that I couldn’t say anything.”
Yashar nodded. “I know,” he said. He looked out into the night. “Let’s go get them before this gets any worse.”
COLBY AND EWAN sprinted as fast as they could, the forest behind them a wall of rustling bushes, as if the trees themselves were stampeding.
“We can’t outrun them,” said Ewan breathlessly.
“Yes, we can,” huffed Colby. “Keep running.”
“No. They’re faster. You can never outrun a redcap.”
“Then how do we kill ’em?” asked Colby.
“We don’t,” said Ewan, as if that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Colby falling a little behind. “Run faster!”
“Then how do we stop them?”
Ewan shook his head. “The only thing that stops a redcap is scripture.”
“What’s a scripture?”
“I don’t know.”
Mallaidh called out from the woods, running as fast as she could to keep up with the boys. Her breathing was fine, and she spoke as effortlessly as if she were sipping tea instead of running. “It’s holy words. From a book.”
Redcaps emerged from the darkness in front of them. The patter of footsteps continued behind them. They were surrounded. The children stopped, looking around for any way out of the ambush, but they were surrounded.
“What kind of book?” asked Colby.
“What?” asked Mallaidh.
“What kind of book is a scripture?”
“Like a Bible or a Torah,” she said.
“So, words from the Bible?” asked Colby, as if that were too simple an answer.
“Yes,” she said, concerned more with the swarming redcaps than answering his stupid questions.
The redcaps clacked their talons together in unison. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
“Oh,” said Colby, the redcaps slowly closing in. Then he spoke quietly to himself for a second, catching his breath as he did. “Bow down. Lightning. What . . . I, uh . . .” He tried desperately to find something deep within him—to dig out a memory, dust it off, and read it aloud. And then, like water bursting through a dam, it came. “Lord, bow down thy heavens and descend. Touch the mountains and they shall smoke.”
He spoke confidently, from memory, as if reciting from a page. “Send forth lightning and thou shalt scatter them. Shoot out thy arrows, and thou shalt trouble them. Put forth thy hand from on high, take me out, and deliver me from many waters: from the hand of strange children . . . something something . . .”
The redcaps recoiled in horror. They grabbed their ears to block out the sound, but their clawed hands only dug deep into their flesh, and, unable to muffle the verse, instead tore out chunks of their own faces. Each fell writhing to the ground, suffering from terrible seizures. But as Colby came to the end of what he could remember, the pain subsided and they looked up, raging, ready to tear him limb from bloody limb. Colby came to attention and began again from the beginning.
“Lord, bow down thy heavens and descend. Touch the mountains and they shall smoke. Send forth lightning, and thou shalt scatter them. Shoot out thy arrows, and thou shalt trouble them. Put forth thy hand from on high, take me out, and deliver me from many waters. From the hand of strange children!”
He was yelling now, driving the redcaps backward as they scrambled away from the sound, iron boots kicking divots in the earth as they fled. “Lord! Bow down thy heavens and descend! Touch the mountains and they shall smoke! Send forth lightning! And thou shalt scatter them! Shoot out thy arrows! And thou shalt trouble them! Put forth thy hand from on high! Take me out! And deliver me from many waters! From the hand of strange children!”
The redcaps could not bear it any longer. Their insides were boiling, bubbling up, forming