“Cut your way through!”
Depp pulled back his bow and impaled two people with a single shot.
“Kill ‘em!”
The eight remaining Greenland Outpost fighters brandished their weapons while their lizard mounts heaved powerful legs. Several among the mob blocking their path were knocked aside, and a lizard tore into one with its bloody maw. The riders swung their weapons as they moved to cut down anyone who got too close, and before long, there were a dozen corpses in their wake.
Bleakfire’s leader was mad with rage. “Kill them! Kill them!!”
Depp reached back and pulled out a special-purpose iron arrow. He drew back on the string and let loose. His shot tore through the sandy cover toward its target. Bleakfire’s leader was exhausted and slow due to the battle the day before yesterday. By the time he saw his death coming, it was too late to get out of the way.
Depp’s special arrow was incredibly powerful.
First, it struck the leader’s gun and smashed it into shards of metal. He stumbled backwards once it buried itself in his chest. He stared at the iron shaft jutting out from his body in shock as blood trickled from his mouth. Finally, with his face twisted in an expression of defiance, he collapsed to the ground.
Bleakfire’s leader was ended by the arrow. The outpost was flung into turmoil, which gave the Greenland party the opportunity it needed to escape.
Cloudhawk was free, but his heart was conflicted. He hadn’t killed any of Bleakfire’s people personally, but to them, he was worse than the demon. He was especially saddened by the fate of their leader. He could tell that the man was a rare specimen, intelligent and kind. Under different circumstances, Cloudhawk would have been pleased to meet him.
Now, he was dead. Cloudhawk hadn’t been the one to kill him, but he was the reason the old man was dead. How was this any different than if Cloudhawk had done the deed himself?
It wasn’t that Cloudhawk cared what others thought. No, he felt like a pawn, like fate was playing with him. The feeling stuck with him as he and the eight remaining Greenland warriors raced off into the wastelands.
They had to get away from this place as quickly as possible!
But would getting to safety be so easy?
98 Enemy of the Wastelands
There was nothing in the hundred miles north of Bleakfire Outpost that could hide them, nowhere for Cloudhawk and the others to hunker down while their pursuers swept by. As the party from Greenland fled, they were set upon quickly by a hail of arrows.
One of the Greenland soldiers shouted, “The sweepers are catching up!”
Aside from lizard mounts, sweepers also had a host of vehicles that they also used to hunt down prey. Each one was strange and unique, patched together from various parts dug up from the wastelands. There were a couple of dune buggies that were a hodgepodge of mismatched metal, motorcycles with two or more wheels, and a few other kinds Cloudhawk had never seen before. All together, there were about fifty people on their tail, and though that wasn’t many, they were all top fighters – especially the three ringleaders.
One was tall and thin and raced after them atop a fabricated motorcycle with six wheels. Affixed to the front was a bull skull with its two vicious horns pointed forward. Judging by his equipment this one was a marksman.
The second was a strong, fat man, who swung a flail overhead while he sat astride a wastelands lizard. His whole body was encased in steel armor, as was his mount, and the wind whistled around them as he swung his weapon. It was a stick with a six-foot chain attached, which linked to a nasty looking spiked ball. He wielded it with such ease that Cloudhawk shuddered to think of the damage it would do to flesh and bone if it hit him.
The main leader of the group was covered in weeping sores and dead skin. The creature was certainly an odd sight, both for his weapon and for his mode of transportation. He held a scythe the size of a man. The weapon had a serrated blade stretching out from its staff handle that curved into a vicious point. Instead of riding his transport, he had it strapped to his back.
It was a heavy and cumbersome device that whined like a jet engine. Four wheels were strapped to his feet like shoes, and thus, the thrust from his rocket pack sent him shooting forward. Black smoke belched from exhaust pipes, leaving a clear trail in his wake. All the sweeper needed to do was keep his balance, and he was able to ski atop the sands like water.
This oddly equipped handful of sweepers was a perfect representation of a typical wasteland-style elite squad. Cloudhawk looked back and watched them gain on him.
“Deal with ‘em!”
Depp reacted quickly, nocking an arrow and drawing back his wasteland wyrm bow. In less than a second, he picked out a target, aimed, and with a twang, his bowstring went slack. The scythe-wielder saw it coming and wrenched his hips to the side, which spun his wheeled feet off course and carved an erratic trench in the sand. The arrow swept by and missed him but shot through the tire of a buggy just behind.
The raggedy vehicle immediately lost control, pitched to its side, and hit the ground. Like a boulder splashing into a lake, huge plumes of sand were flung into the air while parts of the vehicle shot off in all directions. The sweepers nearby darted out of the way to avoid being crushed but didn’t slow in their pursuit.
In response, the sweeper on the motorcycle leveled his crossbow and fired off a few bolts.
His weapon was a type rarely seen in the wastelands, a crossbow that was relatively weaker than other models but capable of firing off several shots in close succession. It was especially suited to situations just like this. A couple of the Greenland fighters’ mounts were hit with arrows the sweeper had smeared with numbing poison. They were already slowing down.
“Catch up! Kill them! Vengeance for the master!”
The scythe-bearer snarled hideously, and his companions whooped and roared like a pack of wild wolves. The sound of their cries made the humans shudder.
Cloudhawk pulled the rifle from his shoulder in preparation. The .50 caliber gun was a handmade product of Greenland Outpost, outwardly crude but packing an incredible punch. He tightened his legs against the lizard’s flanks, released the reigns, and aimed his gun. “You die first.”
Crack!
The sound of the rifle was just as striking as its power. It took him a second and a half to find his target, but the bullet his gun spat out was faster than any arrow. Still, the sweeper chief was an enemy of uncommon skill, and just as Cloudhawk was pulling the trigger, he moved. His wheels carved an arc through the sand but didn’t shift him far enough to dodge the bullet.
Cloudhawk’s shot struck him in the back and ripped open a ravine through his skin.
The young wastelander yanked back the bolt to clear the bullet cartridge and the gun’s chamber just as his mount was racing towards a boulder. With no concern for what Cloudhawk was doing, the lizard leapt up to avoid the obstacle, almost pitching his rider off. Luckily, he was able to catch himself and retake the reigns.
The chief pressed ahead until he was side-by-side with Cloudhawk. He raised his scythe high and then brought it down with a deadly whistle – with enough strength to disembowel the human if not slice him in half!
Cloudhawk threw himself forward and the scythe swept by overhead, shaving off a fair bit of hair. His foe swiftly and deftly brought the scythe around and prepared another swing. He was at least as capable as Mad Dog had been.
Releasing his gun, Cloudhawk reached for his exorcist rod instead to block the attack. The impact not only knocked the scythe away but also took a chunk out of the weapon’s shaft. Seeing this, the chief changed tack and buried the head of his scythe in the back of Cloudhawk’s mount.
The wasteland lizard screamed in pain and bolted forward faster, pulling the sweeper along. He yanked the weapon back and tore open the beast’s back, driving it into a pained frenzy and making it impossible to control.
The chief came in for a second attack but did not bother with Cloudhawk or his exorcist rod.
Instead, his scythe was aimed at the lizard’s rear left leg. The beast suddenly lost balance as its limb was cut from beneath it and hit the ground, sending up a cloud of sand. Cloudhawk was thrown from its back and into the air. If he hit the ground going this fast, he would break his neck or at least, a few ribs.
The other sweeper leader fired off a few more bolts.
None of them expected the young demon hunter to vanish in midair, but that’s what he did. As he tumbled haphazardly through the sky Cloudhawk focused his psychic energy into his cloak, and through its power, he floated along like a feather. Nimble as a bird, he shot forward thirty or so feet, enough time to get his body under control before hitting the ground. Sand was kicked up, and he hit hard enough to roll two complete somersaults. His rifle was flung to the side, but Cloudhawk luckily hadn’t been hurt.
The scythe-wielding sweeper’s ugly face was twisted into a hateful snarl as he lashed out with incredible speed. Cloudhawk brought his staff up between him and the deadly blade. However, the chief cleverly heaved himself forward and brought his arms up, so that while the exorcist rod didn’t budge, the scythe’s blade was brought down behind it. It swept down with such force that not even Cloudhawk’s dire bear armor could stop it from digging into his skin. The pain cut him to the core.
As the crude metal bit into him, Cloudhawk’s face turned ferocious. Rage awakened the power within him and focused it into his staff, which he used to knock the sweeper leader back a few feet.
The wound in his shoulder was not a shallow one. Fresh blood stained his cloak.
At this moment, the sweeper with the flail charged into the group. He whipped the spiked ball around on its long chain towards one of the Greenland soldiers. Luckily, the fighter saw it coming and dodged with just enough space to avoid it, but his lizard mount was not as lucky. The iron ball crunched the side of the lizard’s skull. Immediately, the beast’s brains were splattered, and the warrior was thrown to the ground. He was slow to get up.
Thud!
The flail swung around and connected with skull again, this time sending pieces of the Greenland warrior all around. His body collapsed with blood spewing like a fountain from his ruined head, right in front of Cloudhawk.
The rattling chain didn’t stop. This time, it was headed towards Cloudhawk while the chief’s scythe sliced at him horizontally.
The wastelander found himself in a precarious position, forced to contend with two moderately strong sweepers. There didn’t seem to be any hope for survival. Although he was still invisible beneath the cloak, his enemies knew precisely where he’d fallen.
“Depp!”
Cloudhawk yelped the name and then jumped up onto Depp’s lizard as it passed. With his right hand, he slipped the exorcist rod back into the loop on his waist while, with his left hand, he whipped out his revolver. However, the crossbow sweeper didn’t give him time to shoot and shot a bolt first. Depp answered by drawing an arrow as fast as lightning and shooting back.
Both arrows met in midair.
Cloudhawk glared through the sights of his revolver, focusing everything on the crossbow sweeper in the middle of the crosshairs. He pulled the trigger, and the full-metal jacket conveyed the bullet through the front of the motorcycle and into the sweeper’s chest where it left a massive hole.
“No!”
The cries came from the other two leaders as they watched their brother die. The scythe wielder hacked his weapon and unceremoniously split one of the Greenland soldiers at the waist. The other leader’s flail caught a soldier in the back. Two more of Cloudhawk’s crew were dead.
Cloudhawks allies were growing fewer by the second. It was all going wrong. He looked desperately around until he spotted a spot of rugged terrain and told Depp to head for it. It was clever – he and his people were mounted on beasts while the sweepers were using vehicles. They would have a hard time traversing the uneven land with their machines.
Cloudhawk reached out with his gun and fired again, this time at the lizard mount beneath the burly flail sweeper.
Crack! The lizard crashed into the sand, flinging his rider off.
“Don’t fight ‘em,” Cloudhawk ordered. “Let’s get outta here!”
The sweepers could only watch as that hateful demon hunter and his friends fled out of reach. The chief’s hideous face grew ever more outraged and repulsive. “You can’t run! You’re an enemy of the wastelands. Everyone from sweepers to scavengers has their eyes out for you. Every mercenary, bandit, and hunter knows who you are! Wherever you go, we’ll be right behind you! You’re dead!”
The sweeper’s words were like an icy grip on Cloudhawk’s heart. Had the whole wastelands been turned against him? He was a pariah, a criminal who would be hunted down and slaughtered at the first opportunity.
It all seemed so bizarre. Even if killing the demon had caused so much trouble, how could word have spread so far so quickly? If what the sweeper said was true, Cloudhawk’s journey had suddenly become a lot more difficult.
99 Stealing Wheels
Cloudhawk and his companions slipped away from a gang of mercenaries. It was the fifth time since leaving Greenland Outpost that they were engaged in a skirmish. The ten soldiers he’d brought with him were now down to three – seven had died, and the supplies they carried with them were gone as well. By now, Cloudhawk completely believed the sweeper chief’s parting words. Dark days were ahead as he was now the most wanted man throughout the wastelands.
The Caliph of the Sands was dead, but his influence still made Cloudhawk’s life hell.
The demon’s carefully organized army fell apart because the sweepers were incapable of choosing a new leader for themselves. Lesser chieftains refused to obey just anyone, and none were strong enough to lead the sweepers as a whole. The collapse of the organization was inevitable. However, their loyalty to their demon master did not fade, and once word spread that Cloudhawk had been responsible for his death, he was immediately labeled enemy number one.
And that wasn’t the worst of it.
The most terrible result of his actions was the catastrophes they caused throughout the wastelands, the chaos. Harrowed denizens of every small and medium-sized outpost hated Cloudhawk down to their bones. All manner of rewards were offered to the person who could kill the young demon hunter.
It didn’t matter whether he was crossing the wilds or passing a settlement. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, sweepers, bandit crews – everyone was looking for him. They also knew his location. Everywhere within a hundred miles was crawling with enemies. Cloudhawk’s troubles were many.
He just didn’t get it. What the hell was wrong with this world!?
Hadn’t the Bloodsoaked Queen taught him that demons were the vilest, cruelest, and most sinister creatures in the wastelands? Weren’t they the root of all the wars and disasters humanity had faced? Didn’t she tell him it was the demons that had brought about the end of days?
How could killing one suddenly turn him into the villain?!
Dusk settled over the area as the beating wasteland sun descended. Cloudhawk, Depp, and the other two remaining Greenland warriors found a place to hide out in the wilds. All four of them were as filthy and beaten as vagabonds. It’d already been days since they had an opportunity to rest. Death awaited them around every corner.
“We’re out of water.” One of the soldiers tipped over a canteen and shook it. Not a single drop came out. “At this rate, even if the hunters don’t get us, dehydration will. We need to find a settlement and get supplies.”
“Where, though?” One of the other soldiers shot back, “Fuckin moron. Every outpost, mercenary company, and outlaw group for miles knows who we are. They know what we look like and what we’re carrying. Anywhere we go, we’ll be walking into their net.”
His companion shot back in irritation, “It’s better than dying from thirst!”
Meanwhile, Depp was quietly maintaining his bow.
“We’re surrounded on all sides by the hostile wastelands
. The pressure’s only gonna get worse.” Cloudhawk saw how their situation had destroyed the morale of his compatriots and felt sorry for them. “Staying with me is too dangerous. You should leave. It’s the only way to keep you from getting wrapped up in this.”
The two soldiers were moved and surprised by his words.
They had been tasked with escorting Cloudhawk five hundred miles or so. By now, they were about that far, so they could technically end their mission and head home. If they dumped the kid now, their chances of survival would go way up.
“No.” Depp, who had been silent until now, spoke up. The way he said it left no room for questions. “We aren’t done with our mission.”
Not done? Was this guy a moron?! Who would even know? They were within a few dozen miles of where they were supposed to go anyway. What difference did it make?
Depp held his bow in his hands and fixed the others with a steely gaze. “Our mission is not over. And if anyone decides they want to disagree with that, my bow will have something to say.”
Depp was the best bowman in Greenland Outpost. Not a man among them would survive if he turned his bow on them.
The two standing soldiers slowly sat back down.
Cloudhawk looked over the odd mutant. He couldn’t help but feel appreciation. Depp was no weakling and given a few years, he would become a force to be reckoned with. Now, after all they suffered, to stick with such an arduous task was not an easy thing to do.
Cloudhawk couldn’t stop himself from asking, “It’s just a mission. Is it really that important to you?”
Depp placed the arrows he’d been sharpening back in his quiver. When he answered, he did so in a soft voice, “Don’t worry about it.”
Cloudhawk was going to push him further, but it was then that he noticed a sizeable group on the horizon. They were combing the wastelands and heading their way in a group of five or six vehicles. A host of ugly sweepers were among them.
The Wastelander Page 69