The Way of the Sword and Gun (20 page)

Owl knew the move well. He lowered his head, taking the painful strike on his chin. Brother X pulled the gun back and flipped it around, using it like a metal glove over his fist. He punched Owl in the chest. Then again, lower to the wounded side.

Owl cried out, his voice blending with the incessant beep of his weapon. His torso convulsed and his legs buckled. The sudden loss of control saved his life. Brother X instinctively jumped back, assuming Owl's movements had been planned. That mistake gave Owl the time to re-grip his sword and strike at Brother X.

The swords clashed, the guns blocked. Controlled rage fueled the men. But Brother X always managed the better strike, the better defense. No matter what Owl tried to do, Brother X countered.

Owl parried the next attack and spun around, but Brother X knew these moves too well. He caught Owl's sword on the barrel of his gun and kicked Owl in the thigh, knocking him back several feet. Owl tumbled to the floor.

"You'll never beat me," Brother X said, not even bothering to settle in a stance. "You're too slow, too weak, too predictable."

The throbbing pain in Owl's thigh deadened the leg. He tried to stand but couldn't get his leg to co-operate. He rifled through his mind trying to remember how the Masters had taught him to handle this kind of situation.

"It's over," Brother X said. "Now you die."

As Brother X launched into his attack, time slowed for Owl. He watched his enemy leave the ground, his red cloak fluttering like a flag behind him. The bloody sword turned downward for a skewering thrust. Brother X's face turned into a twisted mix of lust and hate.

The sword moved just a hair to the side. Brother X's eyes looked off that way, too. And in the sliver of a second, so much that Owl had been trained to do collided with what the Masters taught that he had not understood.

Owl's body had leaned to the side. It was doing as he had been trained — a simple roll to evade the attack. But Brother X was already looking at the spot Owl would roll to. He knew. Because he had been trained the same.

The Masters taught that the greatest fighters never had to fight. It made sense now. Owl decided that he would not do as he had been trained. Instead, he would sit still with his sword pointing upward in a traditionally meditative state — just as Chief Master always asked of him.

The last thing Owl saw before time returned to normal for him was something he knew he would never forget — Brother X's eyes as he realized his mistake. Stuck in the air, he couldn't change direction. Brother X came down, impaled on Owl's sword. Blood streamed along the blade and over Owl's hand.

The long beep of the gun ceased and the light changed from red to blue. Owl pressed the muzzle against Brother X's temple.

"P-Please," Brother X said, his voice weak and wet. "Please, let me die honorably."

"No," Owl said and pulled the trigger.

The blast shot Brother X down the corridor with Owl's sword still stuck through him. Brother X's head, however, went straight against the wall, leaving a smear of blood and a pile of shattered bone fragments.

A few minutes passed before Owl dared to move. He didn't think, either. He just sat there, letting the immediacy of the moment wash over him. When he finally attempted to stand, he found that the pain in his thigh had left. His finger and his side would take time to heal, but he could still move.

As he retrieved his sword from Brother X's corpse, he noticed a paper sticking from a pocket in the cloak. Owl snatched it out. As he read it, he knew he wasn't done yet.

Malja was in serious trouble.

Malja

For Malja, galloping on a horse was both exhilarating and terrifying. She had great respect for the animal and loved the feeling of all that power thundering her across the land. She thrilled at the wind whipping her braided hair like the horse's tail. But knowing that the only control she truly had over the animal was the control it allowed to be given made her tense.

They were closing in on the convoy when her horse veered to the right. Malja used her heels to guide the horse back, but it was frightened by something. A glance over her shoulder showed that Fawbry's horse had a similar reaction.

Pressing harder and tugging on the reins, she forced the horse toward the left, but when it reached the target direction, it continued on to the left. Fawbry pulled up next to her, pointing out the three magicians on the back of an open bed grounder. Damn magicians. She didn't know what magic they were using, but clearly the horses had a distaste for the spell.

The grounders rolled on wide, patched wheels, and the body's edges were covered in broken glass and sharp metal bits. Whether that was meant to protect the magicians or to keep them under control, Malja couldn't say.

"Split and flank," Malja said. If it took three magicians to cast this spell, then they probably didn't have enough power to follow two targets.

"See you there," Fawbry said and took his horse off to the right. Malja kicked her horse on, speeding along the left.

As they closed in, she heard panicked shouting and the harsh whine of a flyer making a tight turn. Malja pulled Viper loose and kept her eyes straight ahead. The closer they came, the more noise she heard. Between the pounding of the horse she rode and the non-stop rumble of the convoy, Malja found it difficult to hear much else.

The flyer, a snub-nosed craft with two wings out like a bird of prey and two wings perpendicular to the ground, sputtered off to Malja's left. A sole magician powered and operated the craft. It came in low and fast, stirring up dust in spiraling plumes.

Malja ducked, pressing her body flat against the horse. The flyer soared right overhead. The heat it generated pressed down, causing the horse to stumble. It took two halting steps before it regained its rhythm.

Malja made it a point never to learn a horse's name — they never lasted long enough around her. But after that feat, one that would have lamed most horses and sent her rolling in the dirt, she thought she might learn this one's name. As the flyer curved around for another pass, she reminded herself that she had to live through this first.

The craft came in low again. This time, however, Malja was ready. She flicked Viper's sharp tip skyward. As the flyer passed over, Viper squealed as it cut through the metal underbelly. Malja felt several tugs as Viper sliced wiring and cables.

Black smoke belched out of the back end of the flyer. The magician strained to get control of the ship, but it was too late. It arced off to the side and smashed into the ground.

Malja would have loved to inspect the wreckage but that would have to wait for another day. She set her horse racing onward. In short time, she saw the back of the convoy with the flatbed carrying the three magicians that were causing her horse a lot of trouble.

She rushed ahead, unsure of how to stop them, when she saw Fawbry approaching from the right-hand side. His multi-colored robe whipped behind him. He let out a meager war cry as he raised his arm toward the magicians. Malja's eyes widened — the gun.

Malja had heard many different handguns and rifles before. Never had she heard anything like this. The weapon let loose a rage of bullets, spraying them like a fountain. She heard the steady
tat-tat-tat-tat,
delivering death at speeds she never imagined, and watched the three magicians arch backward. Blood spurted into the air and they slumped over each other. Fawbry's war cry morphed into a scream as the gun's recoil knocked him from his horse.

Without anyone to control it, the flatbed wobbled and then curved off toward a large rock. When it hit, the bodies soared several feet beyond.

Malja's smart horse knew that the disturbing spell had vanished. The horse cut right into the path Malja had been wanting to go this whole time. As she neared Fawbry, he got to his feet and shook his body.

"Get ready," she called out.

Fawbry saw her, shouldered his weapon, and put out his arms. She leaned over and as the horse passed by, she swooped Fawbry up and onto the back of her horse. He was lighter than she had expected and ended up hanging off the opposite side. With her leg, she shoved him back up, keeping her hands on the reins and pushing her horse after the convoy.

When he settled behind her, Fawbry wrapped his arms around her waist. "Thanks for getting me," he said.

"I still need you. And that gun," she said.

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

As they neared the convoy, Malja got a clearer look of the set up. Lots of horses and several grounders spread out over a wide area. A handful of flyers led the group further up. In the middle of it all rode an enclosed transport with rope ladders swinging from either side. Sunlight glittered off its metal body. A flatbed of soldiers trailed behind. Tethered to the transport, three flyers pulled it like horses towing a cart. Atop the transport stood Baldy.

"There," Malja said. "That's where Salia is."

"Makes sense," Fawbry said. "There's faster ways to get to the Library but they're through the forests. Very narrow. If she wants all this protection, she has to cross the Great Field."

They were close enough now that Malja could see Baldy pointing to several of his men and shouting orders. Three horsemen broke off and headed back.

"They don't have many magicians," Fawbry said.

"Hard to use them around here when you say you hate them so much."

Fawbry tapped the gun. "I got a little magic right here."

"Then use it," Malja said. "And don't fall off this time."

Fawbry lifted the weapon as Malja loosened the reins and squeezed her heels to spur the horse on. The three horsemen closed the distance — two pulled out clean, shiny swords, and one pointed a gun.

"Look at this," Fawbry said as a red light emitted from the gun. "It's like a pointer to wherever I aim."

"Then aim at the enemy!"

Malja watched the red light dance on one of the horsemen. When Fawbry pulled the trigger, the noise shattered around her. Her assault suit stretched itself from the neck up over her ears. She knew it could alter its shape — it had grown with her since she was little — but never had it reacted so fast. Flashes of gunfire continued at her side. Her horse kept steady, but she could feel its body shudder under her.

Fawbry fired more, and one horseman fell back, blood popping out wherever the bullets struck. With the gun still spitting out, Fawbry took down the other two horsemen. In just seconds, he had cleared them out.

Malja could see the faces of many of the soldiers in the convoy. They stared back in shock. She sympathized. Whatever this weapon was, Fawbry had shown that with it, even a weak clown could become deadly.

"Get to Salia," Fawbry said. "I'll take care of anything that comes our way."

Baldy sent several more waves of horsemen. Each time, Fawbry unleashed a barrage of bullets that leveled the enemy before it came close enough to engage. But Malja saw that Baldy wasn't a fool. He stopped sending men to their deaths and instead commanded most of the soldiers to break off back toward the city. They were useless now.

The way Baldy stared at Malja as she approached told her enough. He knew she was coming for Salia. And since he couldn't stop her from reaching the transport, he might as well wait and prepare.

Malja's horse tried to slow its gait, but Malja pressed it onward. "Almost done," she said, stroking its neck.

Baldy climbed down the back of the wagon, reached below for a moment, and then saluted his men standing on the flatbed. At first, Malja saw nothing change, and her confusion was matched by the soldiers questioning their captain. Then the wagon continued ahead but the flatbed fell behind. Baldy had uncoupled the flatbed.

Most of the soldiers dropped to the flooring. Any magicians onboard wouldn't have had enough time to cast a significant spell. Seven, however, lifted long-range rifles and took aim.

"Keep going," Fawbry said. As they passed the stalled flatbed, Fawbry pulled his trigger. Once more, the weapon belched bullets with deafening bursts. Five of the seven soldiers fell. The last two fired back. Malja couldn't tell where the bullets struck, but she knew they had missed her, Fawbry, and her horse. Beyond that, she didn't care. All that remained was the transport.

Fawbry tapped Malja on the shoulder. She turned her ear toward him. "I think I'm out of bullets," he said.

It was a shame to lose such a great weapon, but Malja hadn't expected it to last so long. She'd never known any gun that held so much ammunition.

"I'm going on that transport. You steer the horse," she said.

Before Fawbry could object, Malja swung her left leg over the horse's head and stood in the right stirrup. She motioned for Fawbry to scoot onto the saddle. Though his eyes looked at her like she had lost her mind, his body did as she commanded. He inched forward until he could hold the reins and had his left foot in position. Malja then put her hands on his shoulders, shoved down hard and popped herself onto the horse's back just behind Fawbry.

Sitting fully in the saddle now, Fawbry looked over his shoulder and said, "Don't ever do that again."

Malja readied Viper and nodded toward the transport. "Get in as close as you can."