The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

The crowd roared its approval, and the foot stomping and handclapping reached new heights. Scattered invisibly through their midst, the feeders lunged and withdrew like wild dogs.

Logan was back on his feet, his staff held protectively before him, his defenses in place. Krilka Koos grinned broadly, beckoning him closer, taunting him. The two men circled each other, feinting without attacking, each looking to find a weakness in the other’s approach. Logan, having abandoned his reluctance along with any hope that his adversary could be made to listen to reason, was determined to end this quickly.

But it was Krilka Koos who struck first, again without warning, again without seeming to do anything but shift his stance slightly. He struck at Logan’s feet, a searing bolt that erupted from the lowered end of his staff, skimmed the dirt floor, and encircled Logan’s ankles, burning through his boots and knocking him to his knees. Instantly the big man followed up with a second strike, this one aimed at Logan’s head. Logan deflected the blow at the last moment, fighting back from his knees, unable to rise, his lower legs and feet numb. He threw up the Word’s fire from his staff in a shield that broke apart the blow intended to remove his head, and rocked back on his nerveless heels.

“Come, Logan Tom!” Krilka Koos shouted at him. “Surely you can do better than this!”

Taunts issued from the crowd in response, whistles and hoots and jeers of all sorts. Logan barely heard them, scrambling to gather up his scattered thoughts, struggling back to his feet. He was losing this fight.

He had to turn the attack back against Krilka Koos. What had Michael taught him that he could use? What, that would keep him alive? The big man attacked again, the fire of his staff slamming Logan backward once more, this time all the way into the first row of the bleachers. Rough hands shoved him away, fists pummeling and boots kicking at his back and shoulders. He was barely clear when the fire engulfed him once more. His defenses feeble and unfocused, his concentration shattered by the pain and the shock of what was happening to him, he went down on his knees, gasping for breath, fighting waves of nausea. He felt the first of the feeders climbing over him, their touch like cold wet leaves against his hot skin.

Do something! he screamed at himself.

But he couldn’t imagine what that something would be.

“PLEASE, MISTER, what’s happening in there?” Cat asked in her frightened-little-girl voice. She reached up and put her hands over her ears. “It’s so loud.”

Panther wanted to roll his eyes, but kept them firmly fixed on the entry to the warehouse they were passing on their way to whatever lockup their captors were planning to put them in. The metal sides of the building were shaking with the sounds of raucous shouts and stamping feet. Smoke drifted from the air vents and through seams in the sheet metal, and brilliant white light flashed through the building’s deep gloom. Bodies were packed tightly against the entrance, blocking any view of whatever everyone had gathered to see.

Didn’t matter if he could see or not, Panther thought. He could still make a pretty good guess as to who was involved.

“You don’t need to know about that,” one of the men snapped at the girl, while the other gave Panther a shove for good measure. “Just keep moving. Hurry it up!”

“We’re missing it!” his companion muttered angrily. “The whole thing!”

They passed the building entrance, moved around to one side, and started toward a series of sheds clustered near the back. Panther had a knife tucked into his boot, but he couldn’t think how to reach it or even what to do with it if he did. He needed the Spray, but that was safely tucked away inside Cat’s cloak. Which their captors hadn’t even bothered to look under, he added bitterly. They were so scared of her disease, whatever they imagined it to be, that they had checked only him. Frickin’ stump heads, he thought.

They reached the sheds. “Okay, this is as far as you go,”

one man said, moving toward the nearest door and loosening a chain looped through a metal hasp.

“Are you going to lock us in there?” Cat asked in horror.

“That’s right, Lizard face,” he said, giving her a knowing grin. “Shouldn’t bother you all that—”

She flung out her arm, and an Iron Star embedded itself in his chest. He went down in a heap. The second man stared in disbelief, then tried to bring up his weapon. But by then the second Star was already buried in his neck. He gasped once, clutched at his throat, and collapsed.

Neither Panther nor Cat said a word as they dragged the men into the nearest shed, closed the door, and locked them in by knotting the length of chain through the hasps.

Then the boy turned to her. “You knew we were gonna be captured by these stump heads, and you let it happen?”

“How else were we going to get this close?” She gave him a look. “What? You thought we could sneak in without being seen, maybe? Don’t you know anything? How have you managed to stay alive?”