Bloody Rose

by Nicholas Eames

  “Physics,” Raek said. “You trust the Grit, but you don’t trust physics?”

  “Not if I’m doing the math.”

  “Oh, come on,” said the large man. “Two and a half granules of Void Grit detonated against a safe box weighing twenty-eight panweights falling from a third-story window …”

  Ard held up his still-shackled hands. “It physically hurts me to hear you talk like that. Actual pain in my actual brain.”

  Behind them, from the shattered window of Remaught’s hideout, three gunshots pealed out, breaking the lazy silence of the afternoon.

  “Remaught? He’s shooting at us?” Raek asked.

  “He can’t hope to hit us at this distance,” answered Ard. “Even with a Fielder, that shot is hopeless.”

  Another gunshot resounded, and this time a lead ball struck the side of the wagon with a violent crack. Ard flinched and Raek cursed. The shot had not come from Remaught’s distant window. This gunman was closer, but Ard couldn’t tell from what direction he was firing.

  “Remaught’s shots were a signal,” Ard assumed. “He must have had his goons in position in case things went wrong with his new Reggie soulmate.”

  “We’re not soulmates,” Raek muttered.

  A man on horseback emerged from an alleyway behind them, his dark cloak flapping, hood up. The mob goon stretched out one hand and Ard saw the glint of a gun. He barely had time to shout a warning to Raek, both men ducking before the goon fired.

  The ball went high. Ard heard it whizzing overhead. It was a Singler. Ard recognized the timbre of the shot. As its name implied, the small gun could shoot only one ball before needing to be reloaded. The six-shot Rollers used by the Regulators were far more deadly. Not to mention ridiculously expensive and illegal for use by the common citizen.

  The goon had wasted his single ball, too eager to fire on the escaping ruse artists. He could reload, of course, but the process was nearly impossible on the back of a galloping horse. Instead, the goon holstered his Singler and drew a thin-bladed rapier.

  “Give me the key,” Ard said as another horseman appeared behind the first.

  “What key?” replied Raek. “The one I swapped from Remaught?”

  “Not that one.” Ard held up his chained wrists and jangled them next to Raek’s ear. “The key to the shackles.”

  “Oh.” Raek spit off the side of the wagon. “I don’t have it.”

  “You lost the key?” Ard shouted.

  “I didn’t lose it,” answered Raek. “Never had it. I stole the shackles from a Reggie outpost. I didn’t really have time to hunt around for keys.”

  Ard threw his chained hands in the air. “You locked me up without a way to get me out?”

  Raek shrugged. “Figured we’d deal with that problem later.”

  A cloaked figure on foot suddenly ducked out of a shanty, the butt of a long-barreled Fielder tucked against his shoulder.

  Raek transferred the reins to his left hand, reached into his Regulator coat, and drew a Roller. He pointed the gun at the goon with the Fielder, used his thumb to pull back the Slagstone hammer, and pulled the trigger.

  The Slagstone snapped down, throwing a spark into the first chamber to ignite a pinch of powdered Blast Grit in a paper cartridge. It detonated with a deafening crack, the metal gun chamber containing the explosion and throwing a lead ball out the barrel.

  The ball splintered through the wall of the shanty behind the goon. Before he could take proper aim at the passing wagon, Raek pulled back the Slagstone hammer and fired again.

  Another miss, but it was enough to put the goon behind them. Raek handed the smoking Roller to Ard. “Here,” the big man said. “I stole this for you.”

  “Wow.” Ard awkwardly accepted the gun with both wrists chained. “It looks just like the one I left holstered in my gun belt at the boat.”

  “Oh, this gun belt?” Raek brushed aside the wool Reggie coat to reveal a second holstered gun. “You shouldn’t leave valuable things lying around.”

  “It was in a locked compartment,” Ard said, sighting down his Roller. “I gave you the key.”

  “That was your mistake.”

  Behind them, the Fielder goon finally got his shot off. The resounding pop of the big gun was deep and powerful. Straw exploded in the back of the wagon, and one of the side boards snapped clean off as the Fielder ball clawed its way through.

  “Why don’t you try to make something of that Reggie crossbow?” Ard said. “I’ll handle the respectable firearms.”

  “There’s nothing disrespectful about a crossbow,” Raek answered. “It’s a gentleman’s weapon.”

  Ard glanced over his shoulder to find the swordsman riding dangerously close. He used his thumb to set the Slagstone hammer, the action spinning the chambers and moving a fresh cartridge and ball into position. But with both hands shackled together, he found it incredibly awkward to aim over his shoulder.

  “Flames,” Ard muttered. He’d have to reposition himself if he had any hope of making a decent shot. Pushing off the footboard, Ard cleared the low backboard and tumbled headfirst into the hay.

  “I hope you did that on purpose!” Raek shouted, giving the reins another flick.

  Ard rolled onto his knees as the mounted goon brought his sword down in a deadly arc. Ard reacted instinctively, catching the thin blade against the chains of his shackles.

  For a brief moment, Ard knelt, keeping the sword above his head. Then he twisted his right hand around, aimed the barrel of his Roller, and pulled the trigger. In a puff of Blast smoke, the lead ball tore through the goon, instantly throwing him from the saddle.

  Ard shook his head, pieces of loosely clinging straw falling from his short dark hair. He turned his attention to the street behind, where more than half a dozen of Remaught’s men were riding to catch up. The nearest one fired, a Singler whose ball might have taken him if Raek hadn’t turned a corner so sharply.

  By Nicholas Eames

  Kings of the Wyld

  Bloody Rose

  Praise for Nicholas Eames and

  Kings of the Wyld

  “George R. R. Martin meets Terry Pratchett.”

  —Buzzfeed

  “Nicholas Eames is the voice of modern fantasy.”

  —Michael R. Fletcher, author of Beyond Redemption

  “Fantastic, funny, ferocious. Hugely recommended. Read it now.”

  —Sam Sykes, author of The City Stained Red

  “A fantastic read, a rollicking, page-turning, edge-of-your-seat road-trip of a book. Great characters, loveable rogues that I genuinely cared about and all manner of fantastical monsters. All spiced with a sly sense of humour that had me smiling throughout. Wonderful.”

  —John Gwynne, author of Malice

  “Absolutely awesome. If the Beatles held a concert tomorrow (with all the necromancy required for that to happen), it still wouldn’t be as good a ‘getting the band back together’ story as this. Full of heroes, humor, and heart.”

  —Jon Hollins, author of The Dragon Lords: Fool’s Gold

  “Nicholas Eames brings brazen fun and a rock & roll sensibility to the fantasy genre.”

  —Sebastien de Castell, author of The Traitor’s Blade

  “A fantastic epic fantasy! Just the right smidgen of tongue-in-cheek to work wonderfully. Go read.”

  —Django Wexler, author of The Thousand Names

  “An absolutely outstanding debut … [It has] all the heart and passion that great fantasy can bring in the hands of a master.”

  —Myke Cole, author of The Armored Saint

  “Kings of the Wyld took me back to my Dungeons and Dragons days. It has well-crafted characters long past their best but still fighting, nonstop fantasy action and welcome touches of humor. Great reading!”

  —Ian Irvine, author of The Summon Stone

  “A promising, fast-paced debut that balances classic quest fantasy with modern sensibilities and liberal doses of humor. Huzzah!”

  —Alex Marshall,
author of A Crown for Cold Silver

  “An outstanding debut which will make you laugh and cry and hold your breath. This is a book that has it all.”

  —K. J. Parker, author of The Two of Swords

  “Brilliant debut novel … Eames has cranked the thrills of epic fantasy up to 11 … Moreover, the plot is emotionally rewarding, original, and hilarious. Eames clearly set out to write something fun to read, and he has succeeded spectacularly.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “A comedy, an adventure tale, a consideration on growing older, and a sendup of fantasy conventions, all at the same time. It also has heart. In short: it rocks … I finished this book in one night. If I could, I’d see the tour, and buy the T-shirt. Instead, I’ll have to content myself with waiting for the sequel, and reading it again.”

  —B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog

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