Half an hour later, they had worked their way to a position on the edge of the woods atop the ridge overlooking the prison camp.

Snow had slowed to a gentle fall, reflecting in the dozens of fires that cast an orange glow in the night sky. Robert and Anders kneeled and studied the men in the camp.

“Your distraction worked,” Anders said tonelessly. There was disapproval in the comment.

Several of the Union men who had fought near the stockade now hung limp from crosstrees, apparently executed for their failure to capture the escaped prisoners. Robert thought it more likely the men had voiced what they had seen too loudly and Pace forced to act. The bodies made Robert wonder just how unwilling a victim the Lieutenant was in the scheme of things.

“All the guards need to understand this is their fate. None of us will survive the Robber King or its dog Pace.” It was unfortunate; Robert had hoped some men might join his cause; they had become true believers after the creature had attacked Burns. “A few of them might have escaped.”

“Not likely.” Anders shook his head, then pointed downhill. “What’s he doing?”

Lieutenant Pace stood on a wooden platform near the crosstrees, speaking to the assembled troops, his voice distant and garbled. His speech involved grand gestures and exhortations.

“He’s explaining why their friends had to die and why they must all now attack us,” Robert surmised easily.

“Oh,” Anders studied the distant figure for a few minutes. “Is it really him?”

Robert squinted as he studied Pace. “No idea.”

Movement to their right within the woods attracted Anders’ attention as Robert spoke.

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“He will want to have his battle; Lieutenant Pace’s Gettysburg. He’s grown to man during the dark days of war; it is all he has dreamed of,” Robert surmised, feeling for the boy and his ruined life. “He thinks being a skilled commander in battle will give his life meaning. It is all a fool’s dream; if he wins, Pace might stop there and the survivors will last as long as it takes for the Robber King to kill them off.”

A figure moved behind the trees, tantalizing Anders with mere glimpses of a person dressed in dark clothing.

“If we win, we are still a meal for the Robber King.”

“Major,” Anders whispered.

“What?” Robert took his gaze off Lieutenant Pace.

“We have company,” Anders pointed toward the figure.

Following Ander’s finger, Robert saw Lieutenant Pace standing only a few feet away, returning their gaze as he leaned against a tree.

“Ask him,” Robert gave a tart answer for the Corporal’s earlier question concerning the identity of the man orating below.

Pace smiled foully at the comment, the smile growing impossibly large with too many teeth.

Without warning, the creature launched itself at the two men in a blur of motion impossible to follow, far too fast to run away.

Robert was ready, his pistol out and hammed cocked as the Robber King came to a halt with the barrel of the gun almost touching its head.

“Nice try,” Robert spoke in a deadly tone as he stood, his arm moving over Anders while maintaining his aim. With his free hand, he pulled the Corporal to his feet and pushed him slowly backward as they moved away from the creature.

The King smiled foully, its eyes flashing silver, then returning to the blue of the boy, it imitated. It growled low, the sound more threatening than the eyes.

Robert stopped, took the few steps to the creature, the barrel of the gun tilted up slightly as he leaned close. He moved to tap the creature’s forehead with the pistol barrel.

The Robber King blinked, more puzzled than astonished at the audacity of its prey, then bolted away, a blur lost in the dark woods

“Just wondering,” Robert lowered his aim.

Anders collapsed into the snow, panting through his mouth. Robert looked down at the man as he calmed himself.

“Why didn’t you shoot it? Anders gasped.

“No sense letting those boys know we’re up here,” Robert could hear the real Pace, his speech uninterrupted. “We have our answers. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“We should have gone with Holm.” Robert helped Anders to his feet and brushed snow from his clothes.

“And I thought you had no sense of humor,” Robert grinned and began the long trek back to the stockade.