Once he and his two passengers were somewhat secure, Righty tied himself to the main strap with a second strap he had the foresight to put there a long time ago, and then held on to his two guests tightly.
“To my house.”
Righty experienced a moment of surreality when Harold asked, “Which one?”
“Where my wife lives.”
Harold took off.
Chapter 36
When Harold arrived at Righty’s house an hour later, he saw no lights on. As Harold touched the ground and Righty got off, the potential for misinterpretation of his late-night arrival with a goddess-like beauty in his arms suddenly dawned on him.
“Stay here, and try to stay very relaxed. I’d prefer she not wake up before I talk to my wife.”
Harold looked slightly annoyed but didn’t argue.
Righty went dashing upstairs and woke Janie.
“Honey?” Janie said groggily.
Righty brought a lantern from the hallway and tried to quickly plow the soil for the seeds he was about to plant.
To his delight, he saw she was quickly becoming alert as she looked at his face; then, his gratitude quickly vanished as her face turned to concern and then to horror.
“Babe . . . you’ve been bleeding . . . what’s going on? You slaughter a cow tonight?”
He started to bring his hand to his face to inspect, then realized the futility once he remembered the reason for the blood.
“Babe . . . I need you to listen to me very carefully, ‘cause I don’t have time to explain. I had to help out a friend whose wife was kidnapped by some very bad people. They were going to kill her if he didn’t do what they wanted and then kill him.
“I managed to get her, but he still needs my help. Kasani willing, I’ll be back here in a few hours. If not, know always that I love you.”
Janie began to cry immediately.
“Don’t go!”
Righty didn’t have time for this. He grabbed her by the shoulders gently but firmly and looked directly into her eyes.
“Babe, please just listen. These are good people. They didn’t look for trouble. Trouble found them. What if I were being held somewhere, and the man who could save me was having this conversation with his wife? Would you want her to give him her blessing and best wishes?”
Janie gulped. She had never cared much for hypotheticals.
“We may need to give them a safe home for a while. I’ll explain everything soon.”
He began walking quickly downstairs, hoping to reach Harold before Janie saw him.
By the time he was reaching the main door he began to hear Janie’s reluctant footsteps coming after him from upstairs.
Harold’s face revealed he would be happier the sooner he was done babysitting, and he looked genuinely happy when he saw Righty pick Donive up and bring her to the porch.
Mervin quickly followed, tail wagging enthusiastically.
Righty gave a quick little whistle to Harold and then motioned towards the barn. In less than two blinks, he had disappeared into the night.
Righty turned around and was walking towards the door, golden-haired treasure in his arms, when Janie approached.
Janie shot Righty a quick glance, and he knew immediately she had swallowed some barb on the top of her tongue, perhaps, Not motivated by her divine beauty, are you?
But her heart seemed to melt with the soft whining of the dog, and the next thing Righty knew Janie was instructing him what room to place her in, and she didn’t even object as Mervin entered the house following them closely.
Once Donive was placed into bed, Righty said with a smile, “Now, I know you’ll wish me the best because it’s her husband I aim to go get. And believe me, he’ll keep a closer eye on her than you could ever dream of.”
This brought a reluctant smile to Janie’s face, and she immediately gave Righty a bear hug.
“Go get her husband,” she said, a smile on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks.
He sprinted outside the house, and as he headed towards the barn, Harold came to him, flying low and fast.
He flared his wings and brought himself to a stop for a second so Righty could hop on.
The next second they were both headed towards Sodorf City.
Chapter 37
For a moment, Righty considered making a detour at his ranch to pick up a couple swordsmen but quickly decided against spilling his secret yet again and at the cost of a couple hours’ time to boot.
Already he was beginning to see the slightest hints of dawn’s arrival. It appeared Harold noticed as well, for his wings began to beat the air even more feverishly.
Righty took inspiration from Harold’s indomitable resolve and steeled himself for one last battle, fantasizing about subsequent sleep the way a man in the desert would about water.
For now, he warmly greeted the flow of adrenaline pulsing through his veins, for he was going to need every ounce of energy he could get his hands on. He was also grateful not to have any immediate access to Smokeless Green, as he suspected the temptation would have been too much, but the thought did occur to him that perhaps keeping a small amount with him for emergencies might someday save his life.
A decision for another day.
He had begun to recognize the topography enough around the border from his slower journeys on horseback to know when he had crossed it, and at this very moment he saw Sodorf greet him, though he knew not whether it would be a fatal embrace.
While dawn continued her persistent arrival, the terrifying realization came to him that she would most likely beat him to the jail.
“There’s no stopping till the jail,” Righty said to Harold. “But bring me in from behind and drop me off in the alley.”
What seemed like just moments later but was more like twenty minutes, Righty began to see faint outlines of buildings below. To Harold, however, they were in crisp detail, without serious obfuscation from either darkness or distance.
When Righty least expected it, he suddenly heard Harold say, “Strap in.”
Righty ducked underneath a second strap on Harold’s back and grabbed onto it until his knuckles turned white.
He barely suppressed a loud scream as Harold went descending mercilessly at a nearly vertical angle.
With practice, he was beginning to pick up the subtle hints of Harold’s sudden stops, and as soon as he felt the angle of Harold’s body change, he braced himself.
The foreknowledge still did little to alleviate the overwhelming force against his body as Harold came to an abrupt stop, but he immediately rolled off Harold and told him, “Stay here. Even if someone sees you, stay here. If anyone approaches you, deal with them.”
Harold looked genuinely surprised but nodded.
Righty then went sprinting down the alley to the edge of the jail.
It was now light out, though just barely. An orange glow bathed the air, but darkness had not made a full retreat. Traffic was light. A few coaches on the street in the distance but none close.
Righty now had more adrenaline than he knew what to do with. His heart was galloping a mile a minute, and his hands were slightly shaking.
Rap, rap, rap. Righty’s fist thundered against the door.
Silence.
RAP, RAP, RAP!!
Righty’s fist shook the door and maybe even the wall along with it.
Silence.
Righty was prepared to knock again, but then it sounded like a chair had been moved. Then, footsteps were coming towards the door.
Silence.
Just as Righty’s fist was poised to strike even harder blows the peephole slid open.
Expecting an irritated explanation that visiting hours had not yet begun, Righty quickly grew uneasy when there was no statement from the owner of the eye peering at him and even more so when the eye began scanning its surroundings. It seemed far more interested in determining whether the visitor was alone.
Acting on a hunch, Righty peered over his shoulder. Out
of a building directly across from the jail no fewer than a dozen men were coming out and had little distance to traverse before reaching him. Most had swords, though a few had large clubs that looked fully capable of splintering a man’s skull into about a hundred pieces.
Righty reached his hand back to his sword, unsheathed it, extended it, and then jammed it right through the open peephole. Only a brief yelp issued as it made contact with the man’s eye and then buried itself several inches into his brain.
Righty kicked the door harder than he had ever kicked anything in his life. Nothing.
BAM!! Nothing.
He spun around and saw the men were picking up the pace and were only several yards away. Righty risked one more kick. The door broke at the top hinge and tilted inward slightly but otherwise remained intact.
Righty spun around with a wild slicing motion. A man jumped backwards in time to save his guts, but took a nice slice across the surface of his belly.
Righty could immediately tell by the man’s reflexes these men likely had some training.
He breathed in deeply, soaking up all the oxygen he could and readying his body to explode.
One of the men came in with a vicious thrust. Righty parried it quickly and sliced the man’s head off neatly with a horizontal slice.
He then immediately dropped low and went for the legs of the next incoming attacker. The man leapt up into the air like a child with a jump rope, but Righty immediately brought his sword back in the opposite direction, lopping off both feet at the ankles.
He howled like a banshee, watching his feet hit the ground moments before his detached body.
Righty met the next incoming attacker with a stiff thrust to the heart. The man was wearing mail, giving Righty’s sword the chance to demonstrate the elite handiwork of Pitkins as it pierced through the armor with enough speed to punch a hole in the man’s heart in spite of the minor speed bump.
Righty suddenly felt an arm wrap around his throat. “KILL HIM!!” the man shouted.
Righty stomped on the man’s right foot and then stepped out into a wide, low stance, simultaneously bringing the tip of his sword down into the man’s right calf, piercing all the way through and then slicing a chunk of it off.
He then stepped behind the man with his left leg and twisted his own body into the man, knocking him off balance. He plunged his sword through the man’s heart on the way down.
Righty instinctively ducked, a movement he had often found beneficial in the ring whenever he was unsure of the next attack but knew it was coming.
A sword whistled over his head, and he then brought his sword across both the man’s legs at the thighs slicing them off. He then rotated around and thrusted at a man’s gut who was charging him.
The man succeeded in parrying, but Righty quickly rotated his wrists, went with the momentum of the parry, brought his sword up over his head, and then brought it down at an angle across the man’s neck.
The man saw it coming and had his sword in the process of coming up to meet the attack, but Righty’s sword landed one second too early for the man’s defense, and he cut through his collarbone and down another foot or so diagonally, slicing multiple arteries.
Righty saw a moment’s hesitation in the attackers’ resolve, and he went charging towards the door. He leaped into the air and gave it another thundering kick. The top hinge came off completely, and the door tilted inwards even more.
Righty immediately turned around with a vicious horizontal slice and disemboweled two men in the process.
When the men retreated slightly, he again turned and kicked the door as hard as he could.
The lower hinge cracked but didn’t come off, and the door tilted inwards even more.
He spun around with another slice but cut only air, as the men were still keeping a respectful distance, fear plastered all over their faces.
He was so taken off guard when his eye caught something falling from the sky that he couldn’t help taking a step back and flinching.
Though his antagonists were jumpy, they thought it was a trick and grinned sarcastically at him, murder in their eyes.
Harold’s talons plunged deep into two men’s backs at three hundred miles per hour, and as he sent them flying towards the jail they collided with several of their compatriots.
Righty fell to the ground as the projectiles went flying over his head and smashed against the walls of the jail, their bodies exploding like pumpkins.
One man helped accomplish what Righty’s now achy right foot could not, knocking the door off all remaining hinges and sending it flying into the bowels of the jail.
Righty didn’t waste a moment. He sprinted inside, alarm bells now reverberating throughout the street.
The deputy he had bribed yesterday was there trembling almost to the point of convulsions.
“I had no part . . . none!!”
“Take me to Pitkins . . . NOW!!” Righty bellowed.
“Yes, sir. You’re a reasonable man, and I’m a reasonable man,” he said trotting down the hallway.
Righty was close behind him.
The deputy shoved a key into Pitkins’ cell and opened it promptly.
He looked at Righty and again said, trembling, “I had no part . . . HONEST!!”
Righty hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to kill this quivering weasel.
“Rucifus might spare you if it looks like you went down fighting,” Righty said calmly, sheathing his sword.
“No . . . PLEASE!”
Righty planted a quick jab and then a right cross against the man’s eyes, hard enough to seal them shut for a few days, followed by an uppercut to the chin that sent the rascal onto his backside and sound asleep.
Righty turned his back to go into the jail cell, but then a frightening vision came to his mind:
Yes, sir, I saw him come right into the jail, covered in blood. He whacked me upside the head several times and then freed the prisoner.
Can you point to this man?
Yes, sir.
As Righty saw the now emboldened coward pointing towards him while he sat in a defendant’s chair and Rucifus sat mockingly in the gallery, every person from the deputy to the judge in her pocket, he sighed.
“Sorry, pal.” Righty lopped the man’s head off with a quick overhead swing.
Righty ran into the jail cell, expecting the same pulverized heap that had been Pitkins the last time he saw him.
He lost his breath from the surprise. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, and while he certainly looked worse for wear, he looked more like a man who had taken a bad four rounds in the ring, rather than a man whose face had been used for target practice by an angry bull’s hooves.
His face was still covered in bruises, but where two small boulders had once rested underneath his swollen eyes there were now two baby mice.
“Feelin’ a little better there?”
The Infiltrators Page 21