Desa Kincaid- Bounty Hunter

by R S Penney

  Something about this felt ominous.

  As they got closer, Desa realized that it wasn't a town so much as it was a collection of ruined buildings around something that sparkled. She strained to identify it, but all she saw was the gleam.

  Onward Midnight ran over rugged terrain, pausing only briefly to commune with the Ether and get a sense of his surroundings. Within an hour, they were close enough to see the glittering substance.

  It was a crystal.

  A crystal as big as a house, shaped like a teardrop and set upon what looked like the base of a stone pyramid. It seemed to hum in Desa's mind, which was ludicrous, except that she was quite sure she could feel the Ether.

  Shutting her eyes, Desa concentrated and felt a single bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. “Yes,” she murmured. “You feel it too, don't you?”

  Midnight whinnied.

  The Ether was...pulsing...There was just no other word for it. On a good night, she would only have to meditate for a few minutes to commune with the Ether. Sometimes it took longer. But here, it seemed to cry out for attention.

  Desa reached out tentatively, and the world changed before her eyes, solid objects breaking apart into swarms of dancing particles. She went limp and nearly fell out of the saddle before she forced her consciousness back into her body. It was so easy. It should not have been that easy.

  Bringing Midnight to a stop, she tried again and found the Ether with almost no effort. Desa floated in its soothing embrace, sensing the world around her. The buildings, the parched landscape, the countless molecules of hot, dry air. She felt Bendarian inside the pyramid. Was he aware of her? He must have communed with the Ether himself and sensed her approach. Or had he lost the ability to do so after embracing his new powers? Something else occurred to her.

  She Infused one of the bullets in her belt pouch, creating a Force-Sink – it was the first thing that came to mind – and nearly gasped in surprise. The lattice seemed to snap into place. It was so easy.

  Normally, it would take several minutes to create a Sink that could take in enough kinetic energy to be useful, but she had accomplished the task in seconds! What was this place? Did the crystal amplify the Ether?

  Yes...

  She could feel the pulses radiating from the crystal like waves washing over her. It was this place. Someone had created technology that would allow Field Binders to work at an incredible pace. And she had never heard of it. Not once before today.

  Desa came back to reality, patted Midnight's neck and urged him onward. They had less than half a mile to go, and she wanted it over with. Bendarian would not flee. Not this time. He had chosen this place as the venue for his last stand. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the small town...or whatever it was.

  Midnight ran between two ruined buildings.

  With a tight frown, Desa turned her head and felt her eyebrows rise. “I don't think I like this place,” she whispered. “I almost feel...”

  Some of the structures were still standing – or parts of them were, in some cases – but the windows had been shattered, leaving holes in stone walls. Other homes had been reduced to piles of rubble. And yet, Desa had the strangest feeling...An itch between her shoulder-blades. The feeling of unseen eyes upon her.

  Desa hopped off Midnight.

  She landed with a scuff of dust, then straightened and removed her hat. The wind blew at her short brown hair. “What is this place?” she muttered. “Who built it? Were my people unaware of it, or did they just not tell me?”

  Midnight snorted and nuzzled her shoulder. He had no more answers than she did. Well, if they had to die out here, in the desert, at least they had seen something marvelous before the end.

  She fell to one knee.

  Craning her neck, Desa squinted at the crystal and ignored the assault of hot wind on her face. “It does not make sense,” she whispered. “If this technology were possible, the Aladri would have discovered it.”

  Midnight snorted again.

  Grunting from the pain in her legs, Desa stood up and dusted her hands. “You're right,” she said. “That is arrogant. But we'll learn nothing out here. We have to-”

  She was about to suggest that they press on toward the pyramid, but her sharp ears caught a sound she would not have expected to hear in the middle of the desert. The soft babble of running water.

  “Let's go!”

  It wasn't hard to follow the sound; it came from a structure in the inner circle. Four stone walls surrounded what might once have been a garden. At least, that was what Desa assumed since one of those walls was pressed against the side of a small hut. Of course, there was little chance of finding any food. This town had been abandoned for centuries. Perhaps longer.

  Stepping through the arch-shaped entrance disabused her of any cynicism she may have felt. Inside those four walls, she found a small orchard of peach trees in full bloom, with ripe fruit hanging from every branch. Lush green grass stretched from corner to corner, in defiance of the cloudless sky.

  In the centre of the orchard, a copper pole so wide she could not have wrapped her arms around it stood two stories high. There was a cylindrical tube on top with a grated face turned toward a crystal, and copper pipes spread out from it like tentacles, each one draining water into a metal bucket.

  It was the strangest thing Desa had ever seen, but that thought lasted for only the briefest instant before her thirst overpowered her curiosity. Abandoning caution, Desa ran toward the towering contraption and stuck her head under one of those pipes. The water was ice cold!

  Of course, the chill was a welcome relief from the scorching heat, and before Desa could stop herself, she was lifting up one of those buckets and spilling half of its contents over her shirt while she drank the rest. She didn't care about bacteria. She would suffer the consequences if she had to. For now, all she wanted to do was drink.

  She turned to find Midnight following her through the arch and pausing to marvel at the bounty this strange place had provided. The horse wasted no time; he bent low and started feasting on the grass.

  Desa brought one of the buckets over to him which caused him to pause just long enough to stick his head inside and lap up the water. The poor dear. She should not have taken him on this fool's mission.

  Wiping moisture off her brow with the back of one fist, Desa squinted against the glare of the sun. “This place just gets stranger and stranger,” she whispered. “Who built that thing?”

  She turned back to the strange tower.

  It was still functioning, though two of those copper pipes were now releasing water directly onto the grass. How could such a device exist? It almost seemed to defy the laws of nature. There were water pumps back in Aladar, but this thing didn't just move water from one place to another. It created water. Or at least, that was how it seemed. She saw no indication of a reservoir that it could use as a source. It was almost magical.

  Except...No, it wasn't.

  Somehow – perhaps through the deeper communion with the Ether brought on by proximity to that crystal – she was able to understand how this watering device worked. Air flowed through the grate, into the large copper tube atop the tower, where Force and low-level Gravity Sources compressed it. Each one was crafted with exquisite precision, much like Desa's bracelet that would only take kinetic energy from objects that were coming toward her.

  Heat-Sinks then lowered the air's temperature until the water vapor condensed and flowed through the pipes into the buckets. It was an ingenious device. An exemplar of truly inspired Field Binding. But...Who was Infusing all those Sinks and Sources with fresh connections to the Ether? A device like this should not have been able to run on its own for days – much less centuries – without a Field Binder to maintain it. Suddenly, Desa was painfully aware of those unseen eyes.

  She shrugged out of her coat, letting it fall to the ground behind her, and then paced through the orchard. “It's amazing,” she said softly. “That anyone could conceive of such a
device...If only the Synod could see it.”

  Her stomach rumbled.

  With a sigh, she walked over to the nearest tree, snatched a peach from one of the branches and took a bite. It was juicy and delicious. Desa gobbled up the entire thing in less than a minute, then tossed the core to the ground.

  Turning back to Midnight, she laced fingers over the back of her head as she strode toward him. “Think about it...” Desa stood up on her toes, groaning as she stretched her back. “A little scrap of paradise in this wasteland.”

  Midnight was too busy grazing to respond, but his ear flicked toward her, and she knew that he understood. Something here wasn't right.

  She noticed another arch-shaped doorway in the wall that connected to the hut, but there was nothing but gloom in there, and she had no desire to go exploring. They would have to face Bendarian soon, but it was best to eat and drink for now. Fighting for her life while dehydrated would not end well.

  Desa plopped herself down in the grass, curled up her legs and hugged them. She exhaled. “Who do you think they were?” she asked. “Scholars? Philosophers? Engineers? Or were they a warlike people?”

  Midnight looked up briefly.

  Blushing under the horse's scrutiny, Desa closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes...I take your point,” she said. “There's no way we can know.”

  Midnight returned his attention to the bucket of water, making no effort to hide his slurping as he drank. At least they wouldn't die here. Not from thirst, anyway. Depending on how frequently that tower made water, it was entirely possible that they might be able to gather enough supplies for a return to Fool's Edge. They might actually survive this trip. Assuming, of course, that she would actually manage to kill Bendarian. Desa had to admit that his new powers were formidable.

  She fell backward, lying flat on her back and blinking as she felt the hot sun on her skin. “Whoever they were,” she mumbled, “I suppose we owe them our thanks. Do you think that any of them would have imagined, when they planted these trees, that this little orchard might have made the difference in a fool woman's quest to save the world?”

  Midnight snorted.

  Desa sat up just long enough to stick out her tongue, then flopped back down again. “Shows what you know,” she grumbled. “Mercy takes care of her children.”

  Another snort set Desa's teeth on edge.

  “It's true,” she insisted. “You need only look around if you want proof. We ran off on a fool's quest, headlong into the desert with nothing to eat or drink. We were prepared to die here, and yet Mercy has provided us with water and grass...and fruit.”

  That last one made Desa's blood run cold. That niggling feeling in the back of her mind, the sense of wrongness that had been haunting her from the moment she had first set foot in this strange town, suddenly made perfect sense.

  The tower provided water, but that alone could not have accounted for the existence of this orchard. She saw no mechanism for delivering that water to the trees. So, who was tending to them?

  It dawned on her that the buckets had been perfectly arranged underneath the pipes. And while they might have been left in that state when the last inhabitants of this town departed, several hundred years was a long time. And it had to be at least several hundred years for so many buildings to have collapsed.

  Was it really plausible that, in all that time, a strong wind had never knocked at least one bucket over? Not even once? Did it not strain credulity to think that a buzzard had never swooped down to sate his thirst, disturbing one of the buckets in the process? The more she thought about it, the more she felt an irresistible urge to run.

  Something in the corner of her eye.

  Desa turned her head in time to catch a glimpse of a hooded figure standing in the door to the hut. A slender figure in unrelieved black with her face hidden in the depths of her cowl. Only an instant, and then the stranger ducked back inside.

  In a heartbeat, Desa was on her feet and drawing her pistol. She cocked the hammer and moved cautiously to the door. “Whoever you are!” she bellowed. “You should know that you face a Field Binder of Aladar!”

  Would that even mean anything to this spectre?

  Despite her growing trepidation, she forced herself to go into the hut and triggered the Light-Source in her ring... There was nothing. Just four stone walls and barely enough space to fit six people.

  Worse yet, there was no exit except for the one directly behind her. The stranger could not have escaped without her knowing it, and yet, there was no one else here. Cold sweat ran down her face in rivers.

  Stepping back into the light, she slammed her pistol back into its holster and shook her head as she marched through the grass. Midnight was waiting, watching her with his ears slanted back. “I must have imagined it,” she told him.

  A shrill neigh was the stallion's reply, and then he stamped a hoof for good measure. “You saw her as well?” Midnight came forward to nuzzle Desa's forehead. The poor dear was frightened, and Desa couldn't blame him.

  “Come,” she said. “We've disturbed the dead long enough.”

  Chapter 25

  At the base of the pyramid, Desa brought Midnight to a stop. Ten stone steps led up to the main entrance, a dark tunnel that left her with a sense of foreboding. Her encounter with that hooded apparition certainly wasn't helping matters.

  The entire structure was no more than a few stories tall, as if someone had hacked off the top of the pyramid, leaving only the base. But the huge crystal on top seemed to caress the sky. It was beautiful to look at, almost majestic. Every edge and surface caught the light of the afternoon sun, and she could feel the Ether calling her.

  She dismounted.

  Facing her horse with her arms folded, Desa shook her head. “This is as far as you go, my friend.” The next words hurt, but she forced herself to say them. “Run. Get as far away from here as you can.”

  Midnight stamped a hoof and then gave her a glare that called her an idiot. Then he nuzzled Desa's forehead.

  She closed her eyes, giggling softly under his touch. It tickled. “No, you can't stay here,” she insisted. “One way or another, this will be over soon. If Bendarian wins, I don't want him to find you.”

  Without another word, she turned her back on the most loyal friend she'd ever had and began climbing the steps. Halfway up, she reached out to the Ether and accepted its warm embrace. The world changed before her, but she paid little attention to the violent tempest of particles, choosing instead to Infuse several bullets with fresh connections to the Ether. A Force-Source, a Heat-Sink, a Gravity-Source. Any one of them might give her an edge in a desperate moment.

  As she completed her work, Desa sensed something new. A fourth presence nearby, not herself or Midnight or Bendarian but someone else. Adele was riding hard toward this abandoned town. She was still a few miles away – which should have placed her well beyond the outer limits of what Desa could sense through the Ether; that crystal was enhancing Desa's talents in more ways than one – but at such a breakneck pace, Adele would be here in less than an hour. She must have slipped away from the group on the filly they had acquired in Thrasa.

  Breaking her connection to the Ether, Desa opened her eyes, breathed in slowly and then shook her head. “Fool of a girl,” she muttered. “This goes well beyond loyalty.”

  She would have to dispatch Bendarian with haste. There was no way she was letting that man anywhere near Adele.

  At the top of the steps, Desa removed her duster, leaving herself in a sleeveless tan shirt and exposing the weapons that she carried. Her holstered pistol on her right hip, her dagger on the left, a pouch of spare ammunition between them.

  Desa drew the revolver, thumbed the hammer and lifted the weapon up in front of her face, its barrel pointed skyward. “Mercy, guide your foolish daughter,” she whispered. “Let my aim be true.”

  She stepped into the tunnel.

  The gloom seemed unusually oppressive, which was surely a consequence of what she had s
een in that orchard. Was the hooded figure here? Would she attack? Desa hadn't sensed anyone else when she communed with the Ether, but could you sense a ghost that way? For that matter, was that thing a ghost? Until today, she would have scoffed at the idea of vengeful spirits. The dead were dead, and that was all there was to it.

  The tunnel sloped gently downward, and Desa followed its path with her gun thrust out in front of herself. She didn't bother with her Light-Source. There was enough natural light ahead to see clearly.

  At last, the tunnel opened into a massive room with a hole in the ceiling, allowing sunlight to filter in through the base of the crystal. It cast sparkling patterns on the stone walls, each one unique and magnificent.

  In the centre of the room, a raised floor that stood only a hair's breadth taller than Desa herself was positioned directly under the crystal. There were unlit torches at all four corners; so, it was an altar of some kind.

  Bendarian stood there with hands clasped behind himself, smiling down at her as he watched her approach. It was Bendarian – she knew that without a doubt – but he looked nothing like the man she remembered.

  Those black veins covered almost every inch of his now bald head. His left eye was gone, replaced by rough scar tissue. “Welcome,” he said. “It's been a long road, hasn't it? A road that led us both to this place.”

  Desa climbed the steps to the raised floor.

  Thrusting out her chin, she narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “Why have you brought us here?” Though she didn't intend it, her words were a contemptuous sneer. “Is it the crystal? Is that part of your plan?”

  Bendarian smiled, shaking his head as he began pacing a circle around the raised floor. “You know, separating you from the others required considerable effort.” He spun on his heel, facing Desa with a chuckle that made her skin crawl.

  Then he brought one hand out from behind his back, revealing the dagger that had wounded him clutched tightly in a vein-covered fist. “Fortunately, you made that a little easier,” he went on. “I do hope you appreciated the surprise I left for you in Fool's Edge. I went to great lengths to make sure those people were sufficiently motivated.”