The brute was driving me toward the bonfire, toward Peter Black and the arms of other cultists. He cackled a mad laugh and leapt at me.
Wensem caught him mid-leap and threw him down on the ground with one arm. I blinked, shocked.
"Here," said Wensem, handing me his son.
Little Waldo screamed at me, his face pudgy and fat, his mouth open wide. Blood had spattered his tan baby cheeks, but he was unhurt. A few cultists circled like buzzards and I held out the Judge, daring one of them to try to advance. Wensem spun, now with both hands free, and punched the other maero as he tried to rise. The swing was so fierce that Wensem was caught in its momentum and fell to the ground. There, he began to pummel him.
Maero are hard to kill. Some built-in toughness. Their large size, the thickness of
