Wrangler

by Hondo Jinx

  Shrike whipped away, batted violently to the ground.

  The bird woman’s sacrifice bought Braddock time, and he lurched to safety.

  Below him, Shrike lay unmoving, a broken white heap on the snowy ground.

  The dragon turned in her direction, determined to finally finish one of its enemies.

  A bouquet of snapdragons exploded in its face, but the dragon shook them off and kept going.

  Doal lumbered groggily into its path, trying to shield Shrike, but the dragon lashed out with its jaws, clamped onto Doal’s leg, and whipped its head, tossing the bargle across the meadow.

  Braddock dropped like a diving falcon from the sky. Holding Cleaver’s pommel at his beltline in both hands, he slammed into the dragon, holding nothing back and driving the sword forward with all his momentum and every ounce of crackling meadow power.

  The magical blade punched through the top of the great skull like a pickax piercing a pumpkin, pulping the dragon’s brutal brain and killing the terrible beast instantly.

  43

  “That’s it,” Braddock said, hovering above the half-built schoolhouse as the rat men below used push poles to slide the next log up the slanted timbers. The fur folk scurried, helping Braddock set the log in place.

  This was a much slower process than simply having Doal place the logs, but the bargle was still hibernating underground. Thankfully, Philia insisted the giant would make a full recovery before waking in spring.

  Braddock would be glad to have his big friend back. Warmer weather would only increase their workload.

  He looked forward to breaking ground, plowing, planting crops, and building more cabins.

  “Good work,” he said, once they lined up the notches and got the log in place. He settled his boots atop the new timber. Everything was solid.

  The shell of Elizabeth’s schoolhouse was nearing completion.

  Standing with hands on hips, Braddock took a moment to survey the enclosure and the meadow beyond.

  The weather had finally broken. Temperatures had been above freezing the last few days, a welcomed change after the bitter winter.

  Sunshine beat down, warming his face and sparkling across the valley, where much of the snow had melted and the center of the Big Pate River had thawed.

  Everyone was busy.

  Even as Braddock and this crew were building the school, another team was lashing together scaffolding that would soon line the interior wall.

  Outside the enclosure, others were marking building sites, laying out paths, staking off locations for gardens, and planning a pond.

  Still others were hanging out wash, weaving trellises, harvesting grass for the stable, and hauling fuel.

  The smokehouse and the fur folks’ kiln were in full swing.

  Taking it all in and imagining what everything would look like once the structures were in place, he told Chundra, “This is becoming a town.”

  Chundra grinned at him.

  Seeing the furry little bear-man’s grin and noting the cheerful faces of the people at work, Braddock corrected himself. “No, these cabins and paths, they aren’t the town. It’s us. We are becoming a town.”

  “It’s nice to see you smiling, Mr. Braddock,” Elizabeth called up.

  Dressed in a chaste gray gown, the beautiful redhead stood at the base of the wall, surrounded by her younger students. The older children were enjoying the weather and helping with the labor.

  “I can’t help but smile, darlin. As we set these logs, I realize that soon you’ll have to quit badgering me to build you a school.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I have not yet begun to badger, Mr. Braddock. And I have plenty of ideas to keep you busy once the school is finished. Why, just this morning, I was thinking—”

  Man! Shrike interrupted, landing beside him. The startled fur folk scampered down the wall, squeaking with alarm.

  Only Chundra held his ground.

  What is it, darlin?

  A ship approaches.

  A ship? You mean a boat?

  Yes, Man. Shrike pointed toward the valley. On the river.

  Her claim made no sense. The edges of the river remained frozen. Large chunks of ice bobbed in the black ribbon of open water at the center.

  What boat could possibly navigate this half-frozen river?

  But then he reminded himself that possible and impossible were flexible terms here on Tardoon.

  “To arms!” he called in a deep voice.

  As one, his people dropped their work. A minute later, everyone was armed, assembled, and silent, awaiting Braddock’s direction.

  Philia appeared at his side. His first wife had been nervous lately. To her, this warm spell was more than a promise of milder weather to come. It was also a reminder that she still needed to recruit three additional handmaidens before appearing at Hortensia’s summer court.

  Philia handed Braddock the spyglasses.

  “Thanks, darlin. Come on. Let’s take a closer look.” Scooping up Chundra, he flew to the top of the western wall. Shrike and the sprites joined him.

  Shrike was right. Against all odds, a large boat was coming up the river, gliding upstream through the icy water at a good clip, leaving a cloud of steam in its wake.

  As the boat drew closer, Braddock spied its colors: a pair of red wedges against a rippling field of pure black.

  He called Ragget up the wall.

  Braddock handed him the spyglasses.

  Having a look, the one-armed man grinned fiercely. “It’s The Icebreaker, Lord Braddock. Red Eyes is coming for us!”

  Ragget’s voice must have carried to the formation because the rat folk raised a tremendous cheer.

  Braddock released them, and they scaled the walls, whooping and waving down at the river.

  A ring of orange light surrounded the boat. Any ice that touched the orange light melted instantly, vaporizing and slipping into The Icebreaker’s wake in an exhalation of steam that reminded Braddock of the interminable dust that had billowed constantly from the wagon train back on Earth.

  Braddock looked forward to meeting the powerful merchant, about whom he had heard so much, and he was happy for the excited rat folk. Though they had placed a burden on his stores, he would be sorry to see them go. Especially the children, whose laughter had greatly brightened the meadow. He would also miss his evening talks with Ragget and the others.

  The Icebreaker dropped anchor straight downhill from the meadow. It was a large ship. The deck was busy with sailors. Most were rat folk, but Braddock also saw dwarves and elves and two barrel-chested men who were easily seven feet tall.

  A broad plank materialized between the deck and the riverbank.

  Two dozen men bearing heavy loads rose from the hold, marched out the plank, and started uphill, followed by the two hulking sailors, who carried a large wooden barrel on each shoulder. Behind them came several other men, these carrying only weapons and small packs.

  Studying this last group through the spyglasses, Braddock spotted the two youths whom he had sent to Black Harbor walking alongside a small, wiry rat man with dark fur and bright red eyes.

  Braddock handed the spyglasses back to Ragget and pointed out the man.

  “That’s him, sir, that’s Red Eyes. A fine man if ever there was one. Him with an empire to run, coming all this way himself just to save the likes of us.”

  Braddock took the spyglasses back and studied his approaching visitor for several seconds. Red Eyes swaggered but wore plain clothing and a short sword, looking more like an old salt than one of the twelve most powerful merchants in a major city like Black Harbor.

  The rat folk ran downhill to receive their benefactor.

  Braddock followed, giving Chundra a ride on his shoulders. He didn’t try to keep up with the excited rat folk.

  When Braddock arrived, the rat folk were all talking over one another, thanking Red Eyes and singing Braddock’s praises.

  Up close, Braddock saw a few gray streaks mixed in with Red Eyes’s
dark fur and not a few old scars.

  Spotting Braddock, Ragget said loudly, “Here he is, sir. Here’s Lord Braddock. A fine man if ever there was one. He saved us all when we were beyond saving, sir.”

  Red Eyes swept a battered tricorn hat from his head and bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Braddock.”

  Braddock gave a little bow in return. It seemed like the thing to do. “You as well, uh, Mr. Red Eyes.”

  Red Eyes grinned at that. “Red Eyes will do. I’m not much for titles.”

  “Neither am I. Call me Braddock.”

  The men shook hands and climbed the rest of the hill walking side by side, flanked by Ragget and the young men, who were excited to see Braddock again.

  “Thank you for saving my people,” Red Eyes said, cutting to the chase. “There are few on Tardoon who would risk their lives to save others, and fewer still who would risk their lives to save rat folk. Did my people eat you out of house and home?”

  “We put a pretty good dent in our stores,” Braddock said. “But a few weeks back, we came into a heap of meat.”

  “Excellent. I brought a load of supplies to replenish your stores,” Red Eyes said as they reached the top of the hill, “along with a few small gifts to express my gratitude.”

  “Thank you, but gifts are unnecessary. I only did the natural thing. In the wilderness, people must help one another.”

  Red Eyes grinned at this. “Natural, perhaps, on your home world, Braddock. Here on Tardoon, we are cut of cagier cloth. On the river, there’s a saying: beware the second hand of the man who pulls you from the water. The assumption, of course, is that while one hand saves you, the other is busy concealing a knife, picking your pocket, or diddling your wife.”

  Braddock laughed. “We have the same sort of folks back on Earth. But even as you explain how cutthroat Tardoon is, here you are, helping your people. Ragget was amazed that you, yourself, came all this way.”

  Red Eyes shrugged. “We rat people must look out for one another. Historically, we have not fared well among the other races. As a result, some rat folk are sniveling and self-serving, while others will rush to help their fellows. I try to encourage the latter behavior in my people.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Besides,” Red Eyes said, “I am nothing if not curious. I was cooped up in Black Harbor half the winter. Fetching my people was largely an excuse to ride the river, see this place, and meet another Earther.”

  “Another? You’ve met someone from Earth before?”

  “More than once. Three men, two women. You look surprised, Braddock.”

  “I am surprised. I had assumed Elizabeth and I were the only people from Earth here on Tardoon. Where are these people?”

  Red Eyes frowned. “Two of the men are dead. I saw one of them killed in the arena in Belt. Nasty business. But not so nasty as…”

  Red Eyes broke off, glancing at the sprites flying nearby. “Well, let’s not get into that indelicate story just now. Perhaps someday, in private, I will tell you what happened to the women.”

  “You said there were three men. What about the final earthman? He’s still alive?”

  “The Sky Baron? Yes, he’s still alive so far as I know.” Red Eyes laughed. “He sometimes buzzes my ship in his steel eagle.”

  Braddock had no idea what Red Eyes meant by Sky Baron or steel eagle, but he was floored by the notion of another earthman existing on Tardoon. “Where is he?”

  “Many, many miles south of here on the other side of The Belt, where the jungle meets the sand.”

  “I would like to talk to this Sky Baron.”

  “And perhaps you shall. It is a long trip fraught with danger and difficulties, but I could help you reach him. Which, of course, is no guarantee that he would actually receive you.”

  They reached the top of the hill, and the smuggler baron paused to catch his breath. Grinning, he said, “Before I visit again, I’m lending you a roadbuilding crew. That hill’s too long and steep to climb.”

  After the bearers dropped their packs and barrels, they went back downhill to retrieve more supplies. The two huge men, who were half orcs, weren’t even breathing hard.

  Red Eyes ran over the goods quickly, pointing out cured meats, dried fruits, flour, salt, and sugar, along with wine and whiskey. A row of huge sacks held seeds. There were also tools, nails, casks of oil, carpets, woven blankets, and a millstone.

  Braddock thanked the riverboat captain and gave him a tour of the meadow.

  “Is that a Sidian ring?” Red Eyes asked, clearly jarred by the notion.

  “We thought that at first,” Braddock said, and explained the strange truth.

  “Fascinating,” Red Eyes said. Then, clearly impressed, he surveyed the work in progress, asking questions about what, exactly, Braddock was building here.

  Sometimes, a man can only truly see his work through the eyes of another; and this was the case with Braddock, who was surprised to feel pride rising in his chest as he answered his guest’s questions.

  This was his meadow, his home. These were his people. Together, they were making something, building it up from nothing with their own hands. And there is nothing on Earth or Tardoon so magnificent as that.

  He led Red Eyes inside the enclosure.

  “Are you hungry?” Braddock asked. “My kitchen sprite is an amazing chef.”

  “Thank you,” Red Eyes said. “I learned many years ago as a young smuggler to never refuse a meal. You never know what might be coming around the next bend in the river.”

  “Wise words,” Braddock said. “Come on inside, and we’ll talk for a spell. Tilly, fetch us some of your wine, would you please, darlin?”

  The two men hit it off, as is often the case when one capable man meets another in times of peace.

  Red Eyes was a bit older than Braddock, a smart and seasoned man with the gift of talking easily yet sensibly.

  Philia and the other sprites accompanied them into the cabin. Shrike stood in the corner, protectively watching over Braddock, and looking ready to sprout a beak.

  Sampling the wine, Red Eyes said, “This is, without exaggeration, the best wine I have ever tasted in my life. And I have tasted wine in every town from Blister to Black Harbor.”

  “That wine is the creation of my wife’s handmaiden, Tilly.”

  Tilly beamed.

  Red Eyes gave another bow, and for the rest of the meal, Tilly kept his cup full.

  Red Eyes was impressed by the food as well and complimented Esper extensively. He especially enjoyed the steak.

  “It’s excellent meat,” Red Eyes said, “and perfectly cooked. But I must confess, I can’t place it. Wait, don’t tell me. Let me see if I can figure it out.”

  Braddock smiled. “I doubt many Black Harbor restaurants serve it.”

  “Well, they should. I could make a killing selling this meat.”

  “If the meat didn’t kill you first,” Braddock joked.

  Red Eyes sawed off another piece, chewed thoughtfully, and washed it down with a gulp of sprite wine. Finally, he shook his head. “I surrender. Tell me, what is it?”

  “Woolly dragon.”

  “Woolly dragon?” Red Eyes burst into laughter. “Now this is a story I must hear!”

  They talked for a long time, rapidly building a friendship through stories, wine, and mutual respect.

  “And you bonded with a Shrike?” Red Eyes exclaimed at one point. “You are a truly remarkable man, Braddock. You must come and visit me in Black Harbor. I collect interesting things. You will be my interesting friend. Bring a barrel of Tilly’s wine and a load of dragon steaks, and I’ll make you a rich man.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. I’ve been wanting to see Black Harbor, and it would be good to establish trade. An isolated town needs trade to survive over the long haul.”

  From his experiences on the frontier, Braddock knew these words to be true, even as he knew the other side of the coin to be true, as well.

  A town was mo
re than a home. More, even, than a sanctuary. It was a place to build, a place to sink roots, a place to believe in.

  Building a town demanded hard work and suffering and self-discipline. In turn, those things built character.

  Character in the folks and the community itself.

  Trade would lighten their load, fuel further growth, and spread word of what they were doing here. In time, it would invite into their midst the enemies of character: sloth, envy, and entitlement. Those traits would arrive from elsewhere, carted in the hearts of newcomers; but they would also arise within the hearts of builders.

  If Braddock allowed the resulting ethical blight to take hold, it would destroy Wrangler City.

  “Excellent,” Red Eyes said. “You will be my guest, of course, and I will help you make the most out of your visit. You mentioned that you are running low on the things you use in your… what are they called? Fire… arms?”

  Braddock nodded. “Firearms. This is a rifle. And these are pistols. They need ammunition. I’m out for the pistols and running low with the rifle.”

  “I know a woman, a powerful sorceress. It would be expensive, but I believe she could create more ammunition.”

  That made Braddock sit up straight. “I could really use it.”

  “Yes, I suppose you will be needing it. I am afraid that my people might have caused you more trouble than you know. They told you about the Sidians?”

  “A bit. But I’m a man who likes to know everything he can about his enemies.”

  “Well, Sidians do not believe in unfinished business. They are patient. They might still hunt these survivors. If they do, they will eventually locate your meadow.”

  Braddock sipped his own wine. “The Sidians wiped out your mining operation. Why not send troops upriver and kill them?”

  Red Eyes laughed. “You are clearly new to Tardoon, my friend. Wipe out Sidians? That is much easier said than done. They are the fiercest warriors on the planet, and as soon as you cut down one Sidian, another appears. But perhaps they will not come here. If I were you, I would be more concerned about the centaurs.”

  “I’ve already had a run-in with them.”