Shield of Lies by Jerry Autieri Page B

air of nightfall chased people back to their hearths. Crows lifted from rooftops, protesting the end of day as they winged toward their woodland nests. His hands trembled with excitement and he wrapped his right hand tighter into the sack of rocks that he had cushioned with old rags. He weighed it in his other hand as he pressed against the cold, rough logs of the wall.
    Regaining access to Ravndal had been simple. Ulfrik had taken pains to keep an army from sneaking upon his fortress: clearing trees and other hiding places, digging ditches and lining them with wood spikes, not to mention setting his fortress atop the highest hill in the valley. A single man would still find challenge in threading this gauntlet to reach the gates, but not if that man still had friends inside.
    Killing his father and tossing Throst and his family across the border let Ulfrik believe he had finished them. Yet, he had not paused to consider friendships and other relatives. He had even appeared bored at the execution of Throst's father, as if impatient to dispense his duties. Throst's father still swung from the hanging tree, and he planned to ensure Ulfrik would regret that day. Whatever people had thought of his father, Throst had friends left behind and some who had owed him life debts. One such man watched the western gate, and had abused his position to extract bribes from the vulnerable. Contacting him had been too simple, and after Einar had beaten him nearly to death, he was all too eager to help.
    Tonight he found the gate ajar and no one watching the approaches for a lone traveler. One man can often go where many cannot. His father had told him so, though it was his excuse for sneaking about and robbing others. Throst had grander designs.
    He roused from his thoughts as the two boys came into view. Murky light rendered them indistinct, though the fine clothing of one of them was more than enough to confirm for Throst that his young accomplice had succeeded.
    "It's just this way," said the accomplice, a brown-haired, lanky boy of seven or eight years. "Hurry up before it gets dark."
    The other boy, Throst's prey, hesitated. Throst felt his heart flop at the pause, but the accomplice was talented. "I know it's scary, but you said you weren't afraid of dead things. This body has been dead forever, just bones. Come on and see it."
    "I should tell my father first." Hakon's voice was thin and frightened, but at the same time Throst could see him looking into the shadows to see what waited.
    "Our parents would only ruin this. Hurry up. Just behind this building. I'll go first." Throst watched the boy skip around the corner, and call back to Hakon. "See, it's safe. You're not afraid, are you?"
    "No," Hakon replied in a small voice. He crept forward and the accomplice led him back step by step.
    "See, nothing happened."
    "But where's the skeleton?"
    Throst leapt from the shadow and slammed the bag of rocks over Hakon's head. He crumbled like a brittle twig and gave no sound other than a moan once he hit the ground. Throst bashed him again, not certain how hard he needed to hit a small boy until knocked out. Blood flowed from Hakon's nose, so Throst stopped and crouched to find Hakon's pulse. He pressed the soft neck until he felt a throb beneath his finger.
    "That was good work," he told his accomplice. "Help me get him in the sack."
    Throst unrolled a large, heavy linen sack and laid out a length of rope. Both he and the boy glanced around as they gagged Hakon and then folded him into the bag.
    "You've got my reward?" the accomplice asked. He was a half-Frank named Atli whose father had died and left him with only a dumb sister. Throst had used his contact to arrange for the boy's complicity.
    "Yes, here it is," Throst said as he reached into the folds of his robe. Atli extended his hand. Throst seized it and yanked the boy to him. In one deft motion, he snapped Atli's neck, the crack no louder than stepping on a branch in the forest. He