Lost Boy

by Christina Henry

  “So Battle is a way to practice fighting,” Sal said. “For when you raid the pirates and things like that.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and it also helps the boys work things out. When you’ve got a big group of boys like this, sometimes they go too far with one another, and it’s good for them to have a place to fight and clear the air. Else they spend all their time spitting at each other and it causes too many problems.”

  “The triplets spend all their time spitting at each other,” Charlie said.

  “Yes,” I said, rumpling his hair. I liked the way the yellow strands stood up and caught the light of the moon. “But the triplets like to argue and punch each other. For them it’s not clearing the air. It’s just as natural as breathing.”

  “But sometimes, like today, Battle isn’t a practice,” Sal said. “Today it’s real fighting.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Though there are still rules. You can’t carry a bladed weapon, only rocks or sticks or things you made yourself, like a slingshot.”

  “Yes, because it’s obviously better if you beat each other to death with rocks instead of stabbing each other like civilized human beings,” Sal muttered, looking away.

  “You’re not worried, are you?” I asked, trying to peer around to see his face. “Because I’ve never lost Battle before, and I’m not going to start today.”

  “Those were play Battles,” Sal said, and he was definitely angry. I could hear it.

  “Not all of them,” I said.

  He gave me a sharp look then. “This isn’t your first Battle to the death?”

  “I’ve been here a long, long time, Sal,” I said, and I felt all the years roll over me when I said it.

  I felt that twinge again, the one in my legs, the one I hadn’t felt since that day Peter promised he would not bring back any more boys.

  “How long?” Sal asked.

  I shrugged. “A hundred and fifty seasons, maybe more. I can’t really remember.”

  “You don’t remember the Other Place?”

  “It doesn’t look the same as it was when I was there. Every time I go back with Peter it’s different. And we didn’t get Nod and Fog here until after I’d been here for many seasons already.”

  Sal gave me another one of his piercing looks, the ones that made me feel all twisted up inside. It was almost as if he felt sorry for me.

  “You’re very old, Jamie,” Charlie said, and he was so solemn about it that it made me laugh.

  He made Sal laugh too. That laugh rang out in the night and seemed to bring on the dawn faster, as if the sun wanted to hear Sal laughing.

  When we reached the steep parts of the mountain, Charlie began to struggle. There were places where there was no path at all, and we had to climb using handholds we found in the rock. Charlie’s arms and legs were far too short for this exercise, and he was terrified of falling in any event.

  Sal and I took it in turns to carry him on our backs through these parts. It was much, much harder for Sal, who was almost as tall as me but a great deal more slender and not as hardened to life on the island. He refused to let me carry Charlie on my own, though.

  “You’ve got to save your strength for Battle,” he said.

  I didn’t tell him that I could probably carry Charlie on my back throughout Battle and still beat Nip. Sal wasn’t impressed, I thought, by my accomplishments at Battle.

  Charlie, on the other hand, took my news of permanent Battle champion as proof positive that I was the best boy in the world, something he’d already been mostly convinced of anyhow.

  I think that this was, deep down, why Peter disliked him so much. It wasn’t just that Charlie took me away from Peter. It was that Charlie preferred me to Peter. Peter was used to all the boys thinking he was the best, most wonderful boy there ever was.

  Despite the necessity of carrying Charlie, we kept up with the others and we all reached the Battle place by midmorning. Peter wanted to be annoyed that we’d piggybacked the smaller boy, but since we hadn’t fallen behind, there wasn’t much he could do about it except scowl at Charlie.

  The Battle arena was just past a little mountain meadow filled with small white flowers that bobbed in the wind. Though this part of the range was rockier than the northern end, there were still a few green places. A skinny stream full of cold water ran along the edge of the meadow before tumbling over the rocks on the other side, heading down to the crocodile pond and then the sea.

  We reached the meadow after a hard climb on a bit of trail that switched back and forth along the side of the mountain. To reach the Battle place we crossed the meadow, heading due east. The carved-out bowl was directly on the other side, a hole that was dropped in between the meadow and the jagged rock wall that rose up on the other side. A dirt track ran from the meadow down to the bowl, and on the fourth side the view opened to the rest of the mountains and a sheer drop down for the unwary.

  The rock of the Battle arena was smooth and white, veined with grey, and this rock was different from the rest of the mountains. It was one of the reasons why Peter had declared it special and important.

  No matter how many times we fought there, or how much blood was spilled, the rock remained white and smooth.

  It was like the island swallowed up that blood and pushed it out again as magic, magic that kept us boys forever. It was a fanciful thought, but no more fanciful than that of the pirates thinking we drank from some magic spring for eternal youth.

  Nod and Fog and Crow and Ed and Kit ran across the meadow and into the bowl, whooping and dancing in circles. Nod and Fog promptly bumped into each other and a heartbeat later their fists were where they always were—in each other’s faces. Crow couldn’t bear to be left out. He jumped on top of Fog and soon the three of them were doing what they did best. Kit and Ed ran around the three of them, shouting encouragement.

  “It seems like it would be exhausting,” Sal whispered to me. “To fight like that all the time.”

  “Strangely enough, they seem to get more energy out of it,” I said.

  Peter settled himself right at the center of the rim on one side, so he could have a good view of the proceedings. Peter always judged Battle; he never participated.

  I put Charlie and Sal a little away from Peter, on the side of the arena that had the security of the mountain wall rising behind it. It would be far too easy to knock the two of them off the open side if anyone (like Nip or Peter, I thought) had such things in their mind.

  I drew Del’s sword out of my sling-bag and handed it to Sal. He took it with obvious reluctance. Charlie watched with some jealousy in his eyes. He enjoyed learning how to use a sword far better than Sal did.

  “What will I need this for?” he asked.

  “You keep yourself safe,” I said. “You and Charlie.”

  “I won’t have to,” he said. “Because you’re going to win, aren’t you?”

  “Jamie always wins,” Charlie said.

  “But in case I don’t,” I said. “You keep yourself safe.”

  I bent down then, and whispered in Sal’s ear the thing that I hadn’t let myself think. “If Nip kills me, then you and Charlie won’t have a chance here. Peter will find some way to get rid of the two of you. You go as fast as you can to the door to the Other Place and you go back, you understand?”

  Sal looked at me, stricken. “I . . . don’t know if I can find the way back. We came here in the night. I don’t remember the way.”

  “Then go to the pirates,” I said.

  “The pirates?” Sal was horrified. “After what they did to the others?”

  “You’ll be safer with the pirates than you will be here with Nip alive.”

  I wasn’t certain of this at all. It was only a hope. If they stayed with Peter and Nip, then Sal and Charlie would die. If they went to the pirates, then they might live. That was all I could give them, if I didn�
�t make it.

  chapter 11

  Peter stood and clapped his hands then, and the wild boys running and rolling in the center came to a halt.

  “It’s time for Battle to begin. Fighters, bring your weapons here to be inspected.”

  Nip had been lurking on the dirt track behind Peter, just at the edge where the meadow dipped down to the arena. I wondered if he was having second thoughts about Battle. He kept glancing back over his shoulder like he was calculating how quickly he could run away.

  When Peter called us he trudged—with some reluctance, I thought—down to the arena to join me.

  The other five collected on the seats between Peter and Sal and Charlie. Charlie’s legs swung back and forth in excitement. Sal gripped the scabbard of the sword and couldn’t disguise his worry.

  I took my slingshot and the rocks out of my bag and placed them on the bench for Peter to look over. He carefully checked each one like he was searching for treasure hidden inside, and then took my bag and turned it inside out to make sure I wasn’t hiding anything.

  “Leave your dagger here,” Peter said.

  I took it out of my belt and placed it on the seat. Then I collected all my rocks and slingshot in the bag again.

  “Here, why’s he leaving his dagger?” Nip asked.

  “Because we don’t use bladed weapons in Battle,” Peter said.

  “Nobody told me!” Nip shouted. “All I’ve got is bloody bladed weapons.”

  He turned out his own bag, and a clatter of knives and axes spilled out.

  “You’re telling me I’m not to use any of this against him? I thought this was a Battle to the death!”

  “It is, but we have rules about how you’re allowed to kill each other. This is about skill,” Peter said; then he gave Nip a sly sideways glance. “You had thirty sleeps to ask any of us about the rules. Why didn’t you?”

  Nip’s face turned a kind of blotchy red, like there was a thunderstorm in him about to burst.

  I peered more closely at the pile of metal that Nip had dumped out. “Where did you get these?”

  Some of the objects were quite new and shiny, but most of them were rusted. The axe handle looked like it might rot away from the blade at any moment. There was something about that axe . . . something familiar . . . It looked like an axe a boy called Davey used to carry when he was alive.

  “Found them,” Nip said defiantly. “There was this field with all these pointed sticks in it and I saw this knife in the dirt so I took it. Then I thought there might be pirate treasure buried there so I dug around some more and found these other things. Found a lot of bones too.”

  “That’s because it’s where I buried the boys,” I said, anger blossoming in my chest, turning into a red haze before my eyes. He stole from the boys, my boys, my boys that I carried in pieces and covered in dirt. “You took all of these from dead boys, you damned grave thief.”

  “You stole these from graves?” Peter said, looking appropriately horrified.

  I knew Peter didn’t give a toss where Nip got the weapons. He just wanted to wind Nip up even more.

  The other boy seemed torn between fury and embarrassment, especially when Nod and Fog and Crow chimed in.

  “That’s not right, Nip.”

  “Yeah, there should be respect for the dead.”

  “Respect for the dead. That’s what Jamie always says.”

  “And that means you don’t go taking things from dead bodies.”

  “That’s against the rules.”

  “Sod you and sod your bloody rules!” Nip shouted. He pointed at Peter. “I only came here because he said there wouldn’t be any rules! And all he’s done is lie and make me look a fool.”

  “Peter didn’t make you a fool, Nip,” I said. “You did that yourself.”

  “I’ll show you who’s a fool,” he said, and grabbed the axe.

  I wasn’t ready for this, though I should have been. Somehow I’d thought he’d take his anger out on Peter, whom he blamed for his troubles. I didn’t know that he blamed me just as much, or maybe more.

  He swung out at me with the axe and I only just got away, though my movement took me toward the center of the arena and away from my dagger, which waited on the bench because I’d been ready to follow Peter’s rules.

  If I had my dagger, it would be over in a thrice, for I was certain I could hit him even while he was swinging that axe in a wild rage. But I didn’t, and I didn’t have time to load up my slingshot while I was dodging the axe.

  But I had the big rocks, the ones that fit just inside my fist. I reached into the bag, feeling around for the spiky surface, and my hand closed around one. Nip charged at me again, the axe held high like he wanted to bury it in my head.

  I was vaguely aware of the other boys shouting, of Peter saying, “That’s not fair play! That’s not fair play!” over and over.

  Nip didn’t care in the least about fair play. He wanted me dead.

  As Nip ran at me I ducked away from the whistling blade and slammed my rock-filled fist into his stomach. This startled him into dropping the axe as the breath left him, and then I was on him in an instant. I heard the boys cheer and call my name, clapping and screeching with glee every time I landed a blow.

  I pummeled him fast with both hands, and the one with the rock did more damage but the other one did plenty. In a few moments Nip was on the bottom of the arena, flat on his back, his face an unrecognizable mess. My knees were in his shoulders and I raised the rock once more for a final blow.

  The boys all chanted, “Finish him, finish him, finish him.”

  Nip’s little mean eyes looked from the rock to me, and then he laughed. It was a bloody, wheezy laugh, but it made me pause.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t matter . . .” he said, and it took him a long time to say it. “. . . what happens to me. Because they are coming.”

  “Who’s coming?” I asked as Nip closed his eyes. I slapped him and he opened them again. “Who’s coming?”

  “Pirates,” he said.

  In an instant I remembered Nip’s long trek the day before, and the way he kept looking over his shoulder while he stood at the top of the track.

  Like he was waiting for someone to arrive.

  Nip had told the pirates where we would be. And in the arena, we’d be trapped. There was no way out except the track back up to the meadow.

  I brought the rock down on his head so hard that I caved in the front of his skull.

  The boys erupted in cheers—all except Charlie, who looked pleased but shaky, and Sal, who turned away and retched.

  “We have to leave now!” I shouted, but they didn’t hear me.

  They hadn’t heard Nip’s words either, because they were too busy cheering me on. They didn’t know the pirates were coming.

  I had to get them out.

  I ran toward Peter, who had stood on the seat and was leading a “hip-hip-hurrah” for me. Nod and Fog and Crow and Kit and Ed were gathered around him with their backs to me.

  The shot rang out, and it didn’t seem real, the way it echoed all around the rock walls. We didn’t use pistols—didn’t have them, or the means to fill them with gunpowder, so what was the point? And the pirates had never used them on us before that day.

  Everything changed after Peter burned their camp down. They didn’t want us for our secrets anymore. They wanted only revenge.

  The shot rang out. Then blood bloomed on Fog’s back, an opening flower that revealed the hole that passed through his body.

  Not Fog, I thought. Nod and Fog had been on the island almost as long as me. How could there be an island without the two of them together, always together? It couldn’t be.

  Fog fell backward, and the pirates swarmed in.

  There were only six of them; else it might have been wor
se. As it was I think they were tired from the climb—Nip couldn’t have described the path very well, having never been there before.

  They were tired, and had counted on surprise. And they still thought of us as children.

  We were not ordinary children.

  Nod saw his brother fall and howled a noise that no human should ever hear, a howl of pain that came from his heart instead of his throat.

  I flung my rock, still coated in Nip’s blood, at the first pirate down the track. He was the one holding the pistol with smoke curling out of its tip. The rock hit him square in the nose and he staggered to one side, swiping at the blood that erupted there. I grabbed my dagger and leapt over the rim of the arena, landing on top of him. He twisted and fell face-first to the ground. I jammed the blade into the base of his neck and he stilled.

  I rolled to my feet, searching for Charlie and Sal. Sal stood over a dead pirate that had Del’s sword sticking out of his chest. Charlie was behind Sal, and he didn’t seem to be harmed at all.

  The other boys had stampeded past me while I dispatched the first pirate, and they’d chased the others up into the meadow. I heard the sounds of their weapons clashing, the hollering of the boys and the curses of the pirates.

  It was only Sal and Charlie and me, and four bodies, left in the arena.

  Sal was pale and sweaty and had his hands crossed over his stomach like he was going to be sick again.

  Then I saw the red seeping between his fingers.

  “Sal!” I said, and ran to him just as he fell.

  I reached for the button of his waistcoat, a funny affectation of his like the woolen trousers and cap. He batted my hands away weakly.

  “Leave it,” he said thickly.

  “Don’t be a fool. I have to see how bad it is,” I said.

  Sal was too shaky to stop me. I ripped open the waistcoat buttons and then the white shirt beneath, both now sticky with blood.

  And stopped.

  The wound was in the upper left part of the belly, just below the ribs. It wasn’t that deep, though it bled profusely. It looked like the pirate had just got the tip of his sword into Sal.