by Sky Corbelli
Chapter 14
Hand Picked
Mat outlined the plan as they hiked toward the lumber mill. “Okay, this is going to be easy. Sarah is flanking off to the right. She'll stay hidden in the forest until he comes outside. I'll break off just before we get there and get in position on the left. You come straight up the path and yell something to him. Tell him you have the money or something; just get him to come out where we can get a clean shot.”
Ezra grimaced as he saw a flaw in this plan. “I thought you said that guns don't work on wind-scarred.”
“Well,” Mat continued, “they rarely work like you hope they will. Wind elementalists tend to be con men and thieves. They're usually tricky, and most pick up a knack for feeling things moving fast through the air and stopping or deflecting them. That's why you hit the ground the second he gets clear of the building. Best chances are to open fire from both sides; only the strongest of them can manipulate air they can't see very well. If that fails, I'm closing to melee.” He patted the sword at his side fondly. “Wouldn't be the first time I've gone toe-to-toe with a wind-scarred. They give up pretty fast once things get up close and personal.”
“If it looks like he can handle bullets, I'll close with him too.” Sarah's voice came through the communicator. “Two on one in melee is pretty much a death sentence. Especially since most wind-scarred think actual weapons are beneath them, preferring their unbreakable scars and powers when tricks and intimidation don't work.”
They walked along in silence for a ways. “One more thing you should know, just in case.” Mat gave Ezra a questing look. “When a wind-scarred goes down, he doesn't do it quietly. If we have to take this guy out, make sure that you get well away from him. A few seconds after a wind-scarred dies, they and everything within about ten feet of them gets torn to pieces by a massive explosion of air pressure.” His eyes shifted, expression distant. “I once saw a man whose wife and daughter had been murdered by a scarred and his thugs. The guy stabbed the elementalist in the back and just keep stabbing while the thugs tried to pull him off. The only thing left was the knife.” Mat looked back to Ezra. “It was in pieces.”
“Great, he's a guy with superpowers who blows up when he dies. And I'm going to lure him outside.” Ezra gulped and gave Mat a weak smile. “I love this plan.”
Mat threw his head back and laughed richly, clapping Ezra on the back and making him stumble forward a few steps.
The top of a building came into view ahead of them. “Looks like this is my exit,” Mat said. He gave Ezra a thumbs up. “I'll let you know when I'm in position. Stay loose and hit the ground when we tell you. We'll be back to the pretty ladies in the village in no time.” Ezra lost sight of him as he took off at an easy run out into the forest.
Panic began to rise in Ezra's stomach almost as soon as he was alone. He took a few deep breaths and shook his arms and legs, trying to limber up. Okay Ezra, he thought to himself, this is no big deal. Just walk up there and get a person you've never met to come outside so your new friends can shoot him. A madman. A madman who can control the wind. You just get him outside with you. He gulped. No problem.
“In position,” came Mat's calm voice.
“In position,” echoed Sarah, sounding cold and detached. “Everything is green to engage.”
Ezra blew out a long breath. What was it Mat had said? Oh yes. “Making contact.” Ezra hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt.
He walked up the last few meters of the trail, the lumber mill climbing steadily into view. Ezra took another deep breath and stepped out from the tree cover, inching forward into the clearing before the ominous gray building.
“Arn!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I have what you asked for!”
Ezra thought he could make out movement between the cracked shutters on the upstairs window. “Don't move,” a voice grated from inside the building.
A minute went by. Then another. Finally, the shape of a man seemed to solidify from the shadows in the gaping lumber mill door. There was a cocky sneer on the wind-scarred's face below beady brown eyes and a heavy brow. His head was covered in a short brush of brown hair, liberally peppered with gray. As he came closer Ezra drew in a swift breath. Every inch of visible skin – from his thug-like face to his big, rough hands – was covered in a network of fine, white scars. They seemed to form patterns, swirling and twisting all over the man. “You ain't from that little dump,” he said, looking Ezra over, eyes pausing briefly on the knife strapped to Ezra side.
“Hawkins,” Sarah's voice sounded in his ear as he stared with a mixture of horror and fascination at the delicate scars.
Arn's eyes narrowed, and Ezra saw something dangerous glittering in them. A thought of violence from a man who loved it. “Those losers call in a third party or some–”
“Hawkins! Get down!”
Ezra abruptly pulled himself together and dropped to his belly, arms over his head. He heard a rapid woofing as Sarah's rifle unloaded on the scarred man in front of him. Cracks from his left marked Mat, walking calmly toward his target, shooting as he came. It was all executed flawlessly.
The man let out a bark of laughter. Sarah's automatic fire formed into a rapidly expanding cloud, suspended in the air as if she had been shooting into a thick gel. Arn turned to face Mat, whose bullets all suddenly deviated from their course about half a meter in front of the wind-scarred, arching around him to get stuck along with Sarah's shots. One scarred hand came up, beckoning Mat forward.
Throwing aside his pistol, Mat accelerated into a dash over the remaining space, hand moving to his sword, ready to draw. It was apparently not fast enough for Arn. Grasping in front of him, the elementalist pulled his arm back with a shout, as if ripping away a curtain. A torrent of wind whipped past, streaming leaves and sticks into a vortex toward and around the man while scattering the cloud of bullets behind him. Mat was suddenly pulled from his feet and sent flying forward, eyes widening in surprise. He managed to get his sword clear and ready a lunge before Arn raised his right hand, bringing Mat to a complete stop, freezing him in place a foot off the ground. Ezra saw Mat fight in vain to move.
Arn chuckled quietly as he stepped around the sword and patted Mat on the cheek. “Guess you didn't know what you were up against here, kid. You one of Velor's boys? The Besmirched send you, thinking they'd get a little payback?”
“Bite me,” Mat managed through clenched teeth, eyes burning with fury.
The wind-scarred gave a little shrug and threw a lightning fast left hook into Mat's face. There was a sound like a small explosion as the ground beneath the point of impact was blown clean of forest detritus in a burst of air. Mat flew through the wall of the lumber mill, six meters away, and kept going, vanishing inside the building. He somehow managed to keep a hold on his sword.
“Ow,” Ezra heard Mat groan. “I may need some help, Sarah.”
“Incoming,” she said, and Ezra saw her dash to the side of the building and dive into a ground floor window to take up a position inside.
The wind-scarred had his back to Ezra, rolling a shoulder as if loosening it up for some manual labor. He walked casually toward the hole he'd just made in the mill. He forgot about me, Ezra realized with sudden clarity. Swallowing hard, he eased the knife from its sheathe at his side and silently rose to his feet, creeping toward the man in front of him. He was just out of reach when the man halted and raised a hand with two fingers up, just visible over his shoulder. Ezra gasped as the air around him solidified, holding him in place.
“Bait,” Arn said, turning his head to the side, “is meant to be seen and heard, then devoured or spit back out. Next time, tell those fire-kissed snobs to at least send something pretty.” The elementalist gave a dismissive gesture and Ezra was thrown backwards, his knife flying from his hand and out of sight into the surrounding foliage. He slammed into a tree and fell to the ground, stars dancing around the image of the man stepping easily through the hole Mat had left in the mill's wall.
“Hawkins,” Sarah's voice was terse. “Hawkins, get out of here. Report back to the Guild and get help. We couldn't–”
The transmission ended with the muted thud of a heavy blow. Ezra was alone.