TARN & BECK (5 page)

Greg and the surviving attendants shrank back, but Beck remained unafraid and unimpressed as he faced his foe, who looked sort of dowdy and shabby. Carroll strode right up to Beck and eyed him closely with the bandit standing by Beck still holding his gun close by.

“So you’re the one giving me all of this grief. Where did you get the coins from?” Carroll waved the bag at Beck.

“I thought you knew. Didn’t Tarn tell you?” Beck asked.

“Tarn? Tarn’s involved in this?” Carroll gaped at Beck. “You met him? Where did you meet him? Is that who you got the coins from?”

“I found them. They’re mine. They were buried with their last owner when he died. They belong to me now.” Beck said.

He couldn’t believe it, but it sounded like this man hadn’t known Tarn was involved, and yet knew him. How could he not know and yet still find Beck and the coins? For that matter, how could Tarn have known…this was getting confusing to Beck.

Greg stared at Beck in astonishment. “What the hell?”

Carroll turned to face Greg. “Shut up!” Carroll faced Beck again. “Do you know where these coins came from? How valuable they are? How many have died trying to get their hands on them? Or for standing in my way?”

Beck was frozen, but he shook his head. “No. I had no clue at all until now. Now I understand why my father called them cursed.”

Cedric had known something about them, Beck realized. He must have known how valuable they were that this man would want to take them. He should have told Beck the truth about these gold coins, instead of just insisting they were cursed.

He thought that his father was foolish and foolhardy all those years ago to bury the coins with the old lodger. But maybe he had been trying to protect Beck and himself from this sort of fate all along, death at the hands of bandits and highwaymen.

Now it was too late, of course, and Beck was going to die for going against his father’s wishes. This was a turnabout and one final straw as he cursed his father once more for abandoning him without taking care of him.

Carroll laughed and set the bonds down, reaching for his gun. “No, these coins are a gift from the gods.”

Suddenly the bandit standing right behind Beck stepped out and held his gun to Carroll’s head now. The other bandits and prisoners all froze now, uncertain what to do, as Carroll rolled his eyes.

“Tarn, what is this?” Carroll asked.

Beck looked in astonishment as Tarn ripped off his bandana, revealing himself, desperate and grim after the long run and ride he had taken to get here. He had stolen the bandana along with the horse, guns, and sword of one of Carroll’s bandits so that he could slip back into Carroll’s gang once more.

“Let them go, Carroll. You’ve got your coins. Much good it will do you.” Tarn said.

Chapter 5

Tarn and Beck

Despite being held at gunpoint, Carroll eyed Tarn lazily as if asking if he was crazy or stupid. It was an expression that Tarn knew well and remembered from all the times Carroll thought he had made a mistake.

Admittedly, Tarn knew that he, Beck, and the prisoners were in a dangerous, compromised position currently. But he had a hunch, thinking back over the events of the past day or so, that there was more to this occurrence than met the eye.

The hedge wizard, aside from identifying the spell of long, cursed life from the sigil, had also noticed its amplification factor. The tendency of such a sigil spell to increase the power radiating from its source.

And Tarn had noticed, as he rode through the forest, some movement amongst the trees. It definitely wasn’t from Carroll’s band. So Tarn tried to act as firm and assertive as he possibly could.

But it had been a long time since Tarn had faced Carroll, a decade at least. It dredged up some childhood memories that Tarn would rather forget and made him feel small once more, like a child staring up at the man with a gun.

Tarn had to remind himself that he had grown up and moved on from Carroll and his gang, but he couldn’t entirely forget. He could never forget what happened to him back then, what Carroll and his bandits tried to make him do. So how could he act as grown-up as he was supposed to be?

“So that’s it? You want me to just let them go?” Carroll asked.

Tarn nodded. “That’s it. They didn’t do anything wrong. They don’t deserve your anger like I do.”

“Tarn--” Beck started to say, worried.

“Quiet, it’ll be okay.” Tarn said. He hoped that was true.

Carroll nodded at Beck. “He shot my wizard and he had the coins to begin with. Plus he’s your friend.”

Tarn tried not to look at Beck then, act calm and stoic. “I barely know him. He saved my life last night. It’s not his fault he’s in this mess.”

Beck glanced down, nervous. What Tarn said was true. He was a complete stranger to Tarn, just as Beck didn’t know what Tarn would do.

There was a lot of risk involved for Tarn sticking his neck out like this and threatening this bandit. But if he stepped back and allowed—Carroll, was it?—to have his way and shoot Beck…was it possible to trust Tarn?

Carroll laughed, glancing at Tarn and Beck. “Quite an unlikely pair. All of these years I searched for those coins, and you two found them and led me to them! What a joke.”

Tarn laughed as well, harsh in an unnatural tone, unsettling Carroll and the others.

“What’s so funny? My bandits are bound to kill you and the others soon.” Carroll insisted.

Tarn grimaced. “You’re not the only one who has wanted these coins. The magical energy radiating off of them is bound to attract every monster for miles around.”

Beck froze, remembering. “The Vampiric in the graveyard. Are you saying--”

Carroll stared at Beck in horror. “What Vampiric?”

There was rustling in the forest in the distance. Tarn nodded, gripping his gun tighter as he glanced around at their forest surroundings.

“That’s right. Even when they were buried in the city graveyard, the magical energy leeching off of them was enough to attract one Vampiric, seeking them out all the way there.” Tarn said.

Now humanoid shapes were darting about in the shadows surrounding them. Beck, Carroll, Greg, the bandits and attendants all looked up and around fearfully, the bandits clutching their weapons.

“Imagine how much energy is leeching off of them now, out here in the open, far away from the city.” Tarn turned back to Beck, who looked right at him. “Do you remember what we said about monsters and their territories?” Tarn asked Beck.

“And this is one of their hunting grounds.” Beck nodded.

Tarn smiled. “Precisely.”

Tarn turned around and shot at one of the Vampiric about to attack him. Beck ducked Carroll’s gun and ran toward the coach. Carroll turned around, but wound up firing at another Vampiric coming out of the forest just as Tarn did.

Carroll still held on to the bag of gold coins, not wanting to let them go, even if the Vampiric were hunting them. Twenty other Vampiric started running and jumping out of the forest, attacking the bandits firing at them.

Greg and the attendants ran away in the opposite direction into the forest with nowhere else to go. Beck clambered into the coach cab and grabbed the muskets, pistols, and swords from the dead guards and climbed out again.

He fired a pistol at one of the Vampiric waiting for him, killing it. He couldn’t believe that he was able to do such a thing, but there was no time to think about it, either.

Tarn had retreated for cover near the coach and Beck joined him, handing Tarn one set of the guard’s weapons as he kept the other set. Tarn was scared, Beck could see it in his eyes, but he acted as calmly as he possibly could. Beck hoped that he was doing the same.

“Thanks. Let’s go, now.” Tarn said.

Tarn and Beck retreated together toward the forest, firing at one of the Vampiric charging towards them and knocking it down. They were actually going to make it, they were escaping, and what would they do now?

The melee between the bandits and Vampiric continued on the road, with the Vampiric overwhelming the bandits. A number of the Vampiric had died as well, small comfort to those dying bandits.

Carroll remained standing, though now he had to resort to sword-fighting to ward off the Vampiric, no more bullets left. He was covered in blood, his own and theirs. He had dropped the bag of gold coins to handle his sword, but it remained at his feet. He was guarding it still, not wanting to let it go, even if he was the only one left.

Several Vampiric circled around him and the gold coins, attracted by its magical power. But they didn’t attack him, at least not yet. Carroll warily faced the Vampiric, ready to fight.

“Stay back! I’m warning you!” He ordered.

A couple of the Vampiric retreated and parted ways to allow Miranda, a sardonic, seductive, but deadly female vampire, to languidly stroll into their midst. She headed straight for Carroll in the middle of the chaotic battle that was starting to fade, bit by bit with the bandits falling.

Carroll lowered his sword, staring at Miranda in shock. “What is this? Who are you?”

Miranda smirked and stopped a short distance away, nodding at Carroll and the bag of gold coins. “A friend. Hand over the gold coins-Carroll, I think your name was?” She asked, cloying.

Carroll reached down and snatched up the bag of gold coins. He held it close to him, shielding it from Miranda and the Vampiric looming over him. He raised his sword to defend himself if necessary.

“Oh no, you’re not going to get this away from me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find such powerful objects. The source of immortality.” Carroll said.

Miranda laughed and shook her head as the Vampiric growled at Carroll. “Pathetic, that’s what you are, mortal. You think they will grant you power and immortality? No.”

Her words were laced with such forceful inevitability and harsh despair that it was enough to dismay Carroll, who stared at Miranda, shocked and dejected at this news. Part of him knew this was true, but she had driven it home for him, hard enough that he couldn’t fight it. Now his whole body was full of such despair and lethargy that she had instilled in him.

Miranda approached Carroll now, pressing his sword aside and he didn’t resist her. “They belong to me.” She insisted.

Carroll was frozen and couldn’t do anything as Miranda insinuated herself against him, staring into his eyes like a snake wrapping around her prey. Carroll stared at her, mesmerized as she lightly reached over and grabbed the bag of gold coins, tugging it out of his powerless hands.

Carroll watched this happen, helpless to protest or grab hold of the bag again as Miranda handed it off to one of the Vampiric, who accepted the bag with a bow and retreated. Then Miranda rubbed a hand against Carroll’s face, studying him intently now.

“Although I have to admit, you do have a forceful character, from what little I can tell. It seems such a shame that such strength is wasted on a mortal like yourself.” Miranda said.

Carroll managed to open his mouth, though it felt like he was struggling against someone holding him down, strangling him. He spoke, yet his voice sounded strained and unnatural like someone was speaking through him. He didn’t recognize it.

“What would you have me do to remedy that, my…queen.” Carroll said.

Miranda laughed and squished his face between her hands, puckering his lips. Carroll might have squirmed if he could have, hating being belittled like this. But he couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t…what was happening to him?

“Oh, you’re so cute, I could eat you up!” Miranda said and wickedly grinned. “In fact, I might.”

Miranda opened her mouth, revealing a row of vampire fangs, and bit Carroll’s neck. Carroll screamed at the piercing agony filling him and gagged as Miranda sucked the blood sputtering from his neck.

Then, filled with revulsion and pain, yet driven by a deep, unsettling hunger and thirst that he needed to quench, Carroll turned his head round and bit Miranda in the neck in turn. He sucked her blood as she sucked his and the light faded from his eyes as he began to faint, falling away.

Tarn and Beck were running through the forest, as if expecting the Vampiric to be chasing after them. However, after about an hour of this with no sign of pursuit, Tarn was tired of running and stopped and turned around.

He gripped his musket tightly, prepared to fight off if necessary any Vampiric that could be after them. However, there was nothing coming after them, nothing tried to attack him. Beck slowed down and stopped, realizing Tarn was not following after him.

“Come on, Tarn! We have to keep moving!”

“There’s no Vampiric coming after us anymore! I think we’re safe.”

Tarn lowered his musket, satisfied for now as he walked back over to Beck. Beck strained his head, looking around for any sign of pursuit.

“You sure?”

“I think they stopped chasing after us when we left those gold coins behind.” Tarn said.

Beck shook his head, disappointed in himself. “I never should have gone to that graveyard to dig up those coins.”

Tarn nudged Beck. “Hey, there was still a Vampiric hanging around out there, searching for the coins and eating the bodies.”

Beck looked up at Tarn, somewhat shocked at how casual he was about the whole ordeal as Tarn shrugged. “If you hadn’t shown up, I might have wound up dead like Ralph as well without a clue as to why. That would have been disappointing.”

Tarn looked down, a little mournful about what had happened to Ralph and disturbed as well to think that could have been his fate. Beck had saved his life in a way, even if digging up those coins and the Vampiric attack might have drawn Carroll’s attention, too.

Beck pondered it. “I suppose you’re right. So what do we do now--walk back to Silvo, or are we closer to Dosile?”

Tarn looked around, hesitant as he tried to figure out where they were along the route. “Not sure. I think we’re closer to Silvo. But then again, the coach did get pretty far. It will take at least a day or more to get back to Silvo. I don’t know where the Vampiric have gone, but hopefully we can avoid them on the way back.”

Beck sighed, dejected. “Right, Silvo it is, then. Back home.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Tarn asked.

Beck hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s nothing. It’s just that--I had really wanted to leave Silvo behind. That’s why I had gone into the graveyard, to get the money to leave.”

Tarn studied Beck, pondering the situation. “Would you rather go on to Dosile then? It’s going to take longer to get there. Several days at this rate, through rough terrain. We might avoid the road in case the Vampiric are still there. But we might even have to face more monsters or creatures out there in the forest. Not just the Vampiric.”

Frightened, Beck shook his head and retreated from Tarn. “Forget it, then. I don’t want to risk getting into any more trouble and danger than we already have.”

Tarn shrugged and walked away. “All right then, fine. I suppose…”

He hesitated for a minute then. Did he feel like going back to Silvo? What was back there for him? Nothing much, aside from his friend Nutmeg. Ralph was gone and he didn’t want to return to that job at the graveyard.

He would have to look for work again, but he might not find anything in Silvo. Maybe he might lose his room in that boardinghouse, and then what would he do? Where would he go? It was such a lonely life.

He might wind up on the road again anyway, traveling and searching for work. And if any place was as good as any other, then maybe Dosile would be good for him, and he might as well just go there now.

Beck stood there, watching Tarn and wondering what he was thinking about. The man seemed to be an unusual person from what little Beck knew about him or had witnessed so far. Perhaps extraordinary, the way he had stood up to that bandit Carroll and the Vampiric. But there was so much Beck didn’t know about Tarn, couldn’t guess at, that it seemed impossible to figure him out.