The count's horse bucked and plunged, trying to turn; but the count fought it, yanking on the reins, crying "Hold, cowardly beast! I'll not flee an enemy!"

"Brave man," boomed a voice without a body. "Thy cour-age doth thee credit—but no advantage."

And the count rose up from his saddle—up and up, so far that his horse was able to whirl about under him and bolt away from the horrible midnight ogre. The nobleman bellowed in rage just before he slammed into a huge tree trunk and slid downward toward its base. Even as he slid, he shook his head, trying to clear it, groping for his sword; but it hissed out of its sheath by itself. He jolted to the ground and immediately lurched up, trying to stagger to his feet—and dropped back

with a howl, clutching at his throat where his own sword's point had lanced him. He looked up, wide-eyed, and saw the blade floating in midair, its point circling right in front of his eyes. He shrank away and, finally, horror crept into his eyes.

The monster gave one last roar and shrank in on itself, disappearing.

For a brief moment, the trail was absolutely silent.

Then Puck's deep voice rumbled through the night. "Well done, children! Thou didst seize the moment, and gave excellent aid!"

"''Twas our pleasure." Geoffrey stood slowly, rubbing his wrists where the rope had bound them.

"Pleasure indeed." Cordelia glared at the count while an elf cut her bonds with a bronze knife. " 'Tis I who wielded his sword—and almost could I have wished he'd driven himself harder against it."

"That 'almost' is not enough. Who did lift him from his saddle?"

"Geoffrey and I." Magnus flexed his fingers, trying to restore circulation. "I wish we could have thrown him harder."

"Nay! Cease!" the count roared, jerking his arms forward; but the sword feinted at his eyes, and he froze with a shuddering gasp. Behind him, a rope yanked his wrists together and knotted itself tightly, while Gregory stared at it. Elves whipped rope around his ankles, then yanked on his wrists, and he fell with a howl.

"Take away thy thing of Cold Iron," Puck said with distaste, and Cordelia sent the sword spinning off among the trees. Geoffrey watched it go with longing, but said not a word.

"He is harmless now," Puck rumbled. "Again I thank thee, children; thou hast ably done thy part. Now leave us."

"What! Leave?"

"Nay, Puck! Wherefore?"

"We have helped to fell him, and we should have some say in…" But Magnus's voice trailed off as he stared at Puck's face. There was a hardness to the elf that he'd never seen before, and a glint at the back of the Old Thing's eyes that made him shudder and turn away. His brothers and sister saw it, too, and went with him.

"Forget not thy father's faithful servant," Puck rumbled, "thy father's and thine. Do not leave him to rust."

"Fess! Oh, aye!" The children exchanged looks of guilt and hurried back along the trail toward the place where the count's men had ambushed them.

They came upon the great black horse in a patch of moonlight, standing with his legs out stiffly and his head between his fetlocks. Magnus floated up and reached under the front of the saddle, pushing the lump that was the reset switch. He felt it move and, slowly, the robot lifted its head, blinking and looking around at the children, dazed. "Wwwhaat? Wwwherrrre…?"

"Bide thee." Cordelia laid a gentle hand on his nose. "Wait till thy mind hath cleared."

"Thou didst have a seizure," Magnus informed him. "Bide."

Fess was silent, looking from child to child as the haze cleared from his eyes. Finally he said, "Did the bandits capture you?"

"Aye, but we did escape," Gregory piped up.

"Or were rescued, more aptly," Magnus corrected.

"They were not bandits," Geoffrey added, "but soldiers of Count Drosz."

"Drosz?" Fess lifted his head. "What was his business here? This is not his demesne."

"Nay, but he did seek to seize it."

"Why did his men abduct you?"

The children glanced at one another, trying to find the right way to break the news to Fess.

"Did he seek to use you as hostages?" the robot demanded.

"He did," Magnus admitted.

"And I stood idle! May my…"

" 'Twas not thy fault," Magnus said quickly, staving off a flood of self-recriminations. "And there was naught to fear, truly—Puck and his elves did free us."

"Though we did aid them." Geoffrey couldn't hide his pride.

"Praise Hertz!" Fess sighed. "But where is he now?"

"The count?" Gregory asked. "Or Puck?"

"Both are farther along the trail, where the elves did seize the Count," Magnus explained. "He lies bound hand and foot —but what the Wee Folk do with him, we know not."

A single, lasting shriek tore the forest night, echoing among the trees, then ended abrubtly.

The children stared at one another, shaken. "What…?" gasped Magnus.

"It did have the sound of a human voice," Geoffrey said, with foreboding.

Leaves rustled beside them, and Puck moved out into the moonlight with Kelly behind him. "'Tis done, children," Puck rumbled. "None will ever fear Count Drosz's evil again."

They looked at each other wide-eyed, then back at Puck, with the question on the tips of their tongues; but the look in Puck's face held them silent.

Gregory looked down at Kelly. "What hath upset thee so?"

"Leave him," Puck said quickly, and turned to Kelly. "Thou hast done bravely this night, elf."

"It may be that I have," Kelly muttered, "but I'll never be proud of such work."

"Nay, but neither shouldst thou regret it! Bethink thee, the man had slain and pillaged as he marched into Glynn. Elves had seen him slay folk with his own hand, a dozen times at the least—and this night alone, he wounded a score of elves, some grievously; and Mayberry lies dead."

The children were silent, eyes round. They all knew that elves and fairies did not have immortal souls, as they had, and that when an elf died, his existence ceased utterly.

Kelly's face firmed with conviction, taking on the look of old flint. He nodded slowly. "'Tis even as ye do say. Nay, 'twas just…"

"Merciful," Puck rumbled.

"Even so. Nay, I'll not be ashamed of this deed I've done, neither."

"What deed?" Gregory asked, but Magnus said, "Hush."

"We elves have but saved Their Majesties a deal of trouble and vexation, children," Puck assured mem. "Had we left it to them, the end would have been the same, but with far greater fuss and bother."

Shocked, the children stared at him.

Then Geoffrey protested, "But thou hast no authority over life and death, Puck!"

"All captains have, on the field of battle," Puck answered, "and this was battle in truth. Did Drosz not come in war?"

"Mayhap." Geoffrey frowned. "Yet 'twas 'gainst Glynn he marched, and 'twas for Glynn to…"

"Nay." Puck's eyes glinted. "Glynn might answer for mortals—but not for Wee Folk."

Geoffrey opened his mouth again.

"Nay, do not contend!" Puck commanded. "Be mindful, in this the authority lieth not in the person, but in Justice!"

Geoffrey slowly closed his mouth.

"Yet 'tis not thus that Justice is done," Gregory protested. "For a lord, it hath need of a court, and of other lords!"

"That is mortal justice," Puck answered, "but 'twas for crimes 'gainst Wee Folk the count did answer this night—and the Little People have had their own notion of Justice for as long as Oak, Ash, and Thorn have grown. At the least, 'twas quickly done. Nay, I've known far rougher justice from mortal men."

The children were silent in the moonlight.

Then Magnus said, "I bethink me 'tis time to go home, Puck."