Bearers of the Black Staff

“It’s a standoff then, boy. You don’t see them, and they don’t see you. No one sees anyone, do they? No, don’t move. Don’t try to turn around. Just stay still and listen to me.”


Panterra shot a quick look over at Prue, who was staring at him in bewilderment. She didn’t see the speaker, either, and couldn’t figure out what Pan was doing just crouching there, staring out at the swamp. He made a small gesture for her to stay where she was.

“Will she do as you say?” the speaker asked. “That was a Tracker sign. Are you both Trackers?”

Pan nodded. “Yes.”

“Kind of young for that sort of work. You must be good or know someone in the council. Do you come from Glensk Wood?”

Pan nodded again. “Who are you?”

“A friend. A good friend, as it turns out. I might even be able to save your life. Another few minutes, though, and I might have been too late. They’ve set you a trap.”

“Have you been following them, too?” Pan tried to reason it through. “Or were you following us?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, boy. I was following them, but you cut across their tracks ahead of me. Anyone else, another Tracker, would have gone back to the village for help. Not you, though. Are you brave or stupid?”

“Neither,” Pan answered, a flush rising from his neck to his face. “I knew the two that were killed. They were Trackers, too. But I don’t think what did it is anything we’ve ever seen before. So I thought we ought to get a look so we would know what it is that we’re hunting later on when there are more of us.”

The speaker was quiet for a moment. “You must be pretty good at the Tracker business. The girl, too. I had trouble following your prints where there wasn’t snow to mark the way. Even then, it was easier following the tracks of the creatures than your own.”

He had shifted somehow while he talked, gone more to the left. Pan could tell this by the change in the direction of his voice. But he hadn’t heard the other move at all, not a single rustle. He studied the swamp again, and then cast another glance over at Prue.

To his horror, he saw that she had left her position and was coming toward him in a stealthy crouch.

“Tell her to stop!” the speaker hissed.

But Prue ignored his hand signals, seeing something now that he couldn’t, which meant that the speaker had done something to give himself away and she was now aware of him.

“Can you fight as well as you track?” the speaker asked hurriedly.

A sword was shoved over Panterra’s shoulder, handle-first. “Take this. You’ll need it if you hope to stay alive. Don’t engage—just fend it off, keep it at bay. I’ll help you if I can, but the girl will need me more.”

“What are we fight—” Pan started to ask.

The rest of his question was cut short by an explosion of movement from two different points at the edges of the swamp, one directly across from him, the other from his far left no more than fifty feet behind Prue. The brush and grasses burst apart, stagnant water geysered skyward into the low-hanging branches of the trees, and two monstrous apparitions came charging out of the gloom. They were down on all fours now, great hulking beasts that were barely visible through the gouts of swamp water and flying bits and pieces of plants and might have been almost anything.

Pan came to his feet, bracing himself. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a gray shadow as it whipped through the grasses behind him, heading for Prue. A man, but so quick and light on his feet that it seemed to the boy he must be an apparition. He reached Prue ahead of the attacking beast, picked her up in one smooth motion, and bolted toward a huge old cedar. A second later he had tossed the girl ten feet into the air, her outstretched arms catching hold of a nest of thick branches from which she then hung desperately.

Pan liked the idea of a big tree, not wishing to climb it so much as to put it between himself and the monster that was now almost on top of him, tearing through the swamp as if it could sense where there was solid footing. Its head was wedge-shaped and armored with thick scales, and its maw was a mass of blackened teeth ready to rend its quarry. Pan fled at once, racing for a second cedar, aware of the closeness of the thing behind him. It moved more quickly than something that big should have been able to, and it was terrifying. Pan got to the tree just ahead of the beast, wheeled around, and struck the creature as its momentum carried it past him.