City of Hawks by Gary Gygax

did watch for him and stole whatever he had.
    When Gord complained to Uncle Bru about this, the big man nodded sympathetically and told Gord that he could teach some things to him, but some things Gord would have to learn on his own. That way the lad would be fit to survive in the harsh environment of Old City.
    “Do you remember how to count?”
    Gord proudly counted to twenty, and he was ready to go on all the way to one hundred, but Uncle Bru raised his hand. He asked Gord to show him how to make the numbers he’d just said. “Easy,” the boy replied, and using his finger he began drawing lines in the dirt. “That’s a one… and that’s a two… and here’s a-”
    The boot struck him with fair force and sent him sprawling in the dust. The carefully made numbers were obliterated by Gord’s skid as he fell from the kick.
    “Get away from me, you filthy little beggar!” Uncle Bru spat in Gord’s general direction and then turned away and walked off. “If I ever catch you trying to steal from me again, I’ll break your scrawny neck!” he called back threateningly over his shoulder.
    This couldn’t be happening! Gord’s mind was racing. Leena would do something like that, but not his friend, not Uncle Bru. He could trust nobody but the big man, and his friend would never betray his trust! Bru was walking away with long strides, not even looking back to see if Gord was injured. Perhaps it was a new game or a lesson…
    Thinking that, Gord scrambled up and started to call after Uncle Bru. Then he saw two mean-looking men come out of a nearby alley. They had a huge mastiff with them, and their appearance was sufficient to still Gord’s words in his throat. The little boy swallowed hard and shrank back. He knew the trick of becoming invisible. It is a skill all children have, and it worked only with adults, of course. In the slums, it was a vital part of survival.
    Neither man looked at him at all. The huge dog glanced at the boy, then stared at the figure of the man walking away, for that was the object of his master’s attention. “Dat’s ’im,” one of the two said. “Round the corner, then, and we’ll take ’im,” the other agreed as Uncle Bru disappeared down a lane. With that the two men ran off, the mastiff on its rope pulling the one on the right. They too rounded the corner and disappeared in seconds.
    Gord’s skinny legs pumped. His heart racing almost in time with his running feet, the boy dashed after Bru, the two bad men, and the fierce dog. He managed to get to the lane in time to see the pair chasing his friend turn into a side passage, a gangway too narrow for them to walk abreast. The one with the mastiffs rope went first, with the dog straining ahead. Gord slowed and crept closer, because the second of the two pursuers had stopped and was standing just inside the narrow passage.
    Then a horrid growling echoed from the gangway. The mastiff was attacking Uncle Bru! The ferocious sound suddenly changed to a rising howl, however, and it ended with a high-pitched whine that was cut off suddenly.
    “Shit!” The man still waiting near the entrance said that loudly. Then he produced a small sword from beneath his jerkin and rushed into the passageway. As soon as he did that, Gord was able to run up to the place to see what was going on.
    He heard sounds of the struggle as soon as he got to the opening between the buildings. Gord peered around the corner cautiously, wanting to run right in and help his only friend, but knowing that he was far too small and weak to do anything except get in the way.
    The passage was short, no more than a dozen paces long. After that the space between the two structures widened and was open to the sky. Gord could see the shapes of three men beyond the gangway’s end. One was surely Uncle Bru, judging from his size and his beard. He was locked in a hand-to-hand struggle with one of the smaller men. The other assailant was dancing around the pair, sword in hand,