The Last Rune 4: Blood of Mystery

by Mark Anthony

  “No,” she said, amazed at her own words. “No, I want him to live. I want him to crawl back to Imbrifale, to tell the Pale King that I have Fellring, and that nothing he can do will stop me from cutting out his iron heart and melting it down.” She flicked the sword, tracing a thin red line on Kelephon’s throat. “Do you understand?”

  The runelord’s cold eyes were filled with hatred. “I understand perfectly.”

  Grace waited for the others to move onto the silvery plank, then she backed toward them, keeping Fellring poised before her. Kelephon didn’t move. He simply watched as the four of them made their way down the plank, onto the white ship. Grace still felt the presence of Aryn in her mind. How Aryn had managed to speak so far across the Weirding, Grace didn’t know. However, Aryn’s news would have to wait just a little longer, until they were safely away.

  Figures moved to and fro on the deck around them. The plank was drawn in. Powered by neither sail nor oar, the white ship began to speed away. Kelephon’s ship shrank to a dark blot, then both it and the runelord were lost to sight.

  “I think that was a mistake, Grace,” Falken said softly. The bard’s lips were still tinged blue from the ice, but it was warm on the fairy ship. He would be all right, as would Vani and Beltan. The knight placed an arm around the assassin’s shoulders, as if to help her stand; it was a strangely tender gesture.

  Grace turned her gaze back to Falken. “So you think Kelephon still has the power to harm us?”

  “I know he does.”

  A sigh escaped her. She felt bone tired. “I suppose you’re right. But I had to do it. I want the Pale King to know Fellring is whole once more.”

  Falken searched her face with his faded blue eyes. “Why, Grace?”

  “Because I want him to feel every bit as afraid as I do right now.”

  They said nothing more as the white ship carried them south, away from the ice and the dead lands of the north.

  59.

  By the time Travis got back to the boardinghouse, Sheriff Tanner was awake.

  “He opened his eyes not long after you left,” Lirith said, meeting him in the hallway. She was on her way from the kitchen with a pot of hot water.

  Travis drew in a breath. “Is he...?”

  “He’s fine,” Lirith said, taking his hand. “Or he will be, anyway. Right now he’s still weak. It will be some days until he fully recovers.”

  “But the laudanum...”

  Lirith sighed. “Yes, even after this, his body will still crave it. But there are herbs I can give him that will lessen the need. With them, in time, I believe he can leave the laudanum behind. His is a strong spirit.”

  And even a strong man needed help sometimes. Travis thought of the words Niles Barrett once spoke to him at the saloon. Only a man outside the law can stop those who’ve taken the law into their own hands. But it’s pointless to hope. Tyler Caine was the last great civilizer to walk this part of the West. And all the stories say he’s dead....

  That was exactly what Brother Cy had said. There’s no point in hoping. So you might as well do something.

  “What is it, Travis?” Lirith touched his arm. “Your face looks strange. Did something happen out there?”

  Travis thought of his meeting with Brother Cy, and how when it was over the preacher had shut the back door of the hearse and climbed up into the driver’s seat.

  I guess I’ll be seeing you, Travis had said.

  Brother Cy had gazed at him with those black-marble eyes. So you will, son. So you will. Then the preacher flicked the reins, and the wagon rattled away, vanishing into an eddy of dust.

  “I need to talk to the sheriff. Can I see him?”

  Lirith led the way to the back bedroom. Tanner was sitting up in the bed. His skin was pallid, and his chest was sunken beneath his white undershirt, but his blue eyes were clear, if a bit too bright. Travis had never seen Tanner without his hat before; the sheriff possessed a thick shock of sandy hair, which, at present, stood out in all directions. Maudie sat next to the bed, her hand on the covers, not quite touching Tanner’s wrist. Durge stood at the foot of the bed.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Wilder,” Tanner said. His voice was a bit thinner than usual, but his drawl was still slow and calm. “I understand you carried me all the way here, along with Mr. Dirk. I suppose that means I owe my life to both of you.”

  Travis couldn’t suppress a grin. “No, you owe your life to Lirith. All you owe me and Durge is a drink.”

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” Maudie said, looking up at Travis. “I can’t imagine it’s safe to be out there. Not with the Crusade in charge of this town. Why, they went so far as to board up the sheriff’s office. As if they owned Castle City!”

  Only they probably do, Travis thought. So that was why Durge had returned to the Bluebell.

  “They cannot keep me from my duty,” the knight said, crossing his arms. “I only returned to fetch a crowbar so I can pry off the boards and reopen the sheriff’s office.”

  “I’ll lend you a hand, Mr. Dirk,” Tanner said, and started to push himself up from the bed.

  Lirith crossed the room in two strides and pushed him back down. “I will not have all my work undone by pride and foolishness.”

  Astonishment registered in Tanner’s watery eyes. “I’m the sheriff, Miss Lily.”

  “Not in this room,” she said, hands on hips. “In here, you’re my patient and nothing more. And you don’t leave until I tell you it’s time.”

  “But Miss Lily, aren’t you worried about Mr. Samson? He’s trapped there in the jailhouse. We’ve got to go get to him.”

  Travis looked at Durge. “He doesn’t know yet?”

  “I know it was Wilson who played this trick on me,” Tanner said. “He was the one who brought me that coffee. I should have known something was up. Wilson couldn’t boil water to save his life, let alone brew a pot of coffee. He must have brought it from Mrs. Vickery’s. Only where did he get the laudanum? The Crusade has shut down China Alley.”

  “Dr. Svensson,” Maudie said, her voice hard. “That’s where.” She took Tanner’s hand in her own. “Oh, Bart, I think they wanted to make it look as if you did it on purpose. What if Miss Lily and the others hadn’t found you in time?”

  He squeezed her hand. “They did find me, Maude.” He looked up at Travis. “So what is it I don’t know, Mr. Wilder?”

  Travis took a deep breath, wondering just how much he could say. “Sareth isn’t at the jail. He’s been kidnapped by the Crusade for Purity, and the note they left says they’re holding him hostage. You see, there’s someone with whom the Crusade is in league, and he wants something— something that I’ve got. And they’re using Sareth to get it from me.”

  Tanner’s mustache drooped. “You think there’s someone behind the Crusade?”

  “I know there is.”

  “But what on Earth could he want from you?” Maudie said.

  Travis hesitated, then slipped his hand into his pocket and drew it out. “He wants this.”

  Travis opened his hand. The scarab crawled slowly across his palm, probing with slender gold legs.

  “Lord above!” Maudie clasped a hand to her cheek. “What is that?”

  Tanner’s expression was sharp, curious. “Is it mechanical?”

  Travis stroked the spider with a finger, then slipped it back into his pocket. “I can’t explain what it is. Not just yet, anyway. But I can tell you that it’s important, and that no matter what happens, I can’t let him have it.”

  Tanner stroked his mustache—a gesture that reminded Travis of Durge. “I don’t pretend to understand everything you’re saying, Mr. Wilder. Then again, it doesn’t matter. None of it changes the fact that Mr. Samson is in danger. I failed in my duty to protect him, and now I’ve got to find a way to get him back. Can I see that note you talked about?”

  Lirith had it. She unfolded it and handed it to Tanner.

  A grunt of surprise escaped him. “They want you to come to the Bar L R
anch?”

  Travis nodded. “Do you know where it is?”

  “It’s south of town,” Tanner said, “next to the Dominguez place.”

  Durge swore, then glanced at Travis. “I should have known our foe was lurking nearby. It was there I saw the mauled lambs. But we didn’t know then he had followed us here. The great manor I saw must belong to his ally, the leader of the Crusade. This Lord Hale.”

  “You’re right on one count, Mr. Dirk. The men of the Crusade will want to meet you in their own territory. And I suppose the Bar L does belong to the man who leads them.” Tanner lowered the note. “But it sure doesn’t belong to Mortimer Hale. Even Hale doesn’t have that much money.”

  Travis tried to swallow, but his throat was clogged with dust. “Then who does own the ranch?” However, even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. The Ranch was called the Bar L. And the L could only stand for...

  “Aaron Locke,” Tanner said. “Owner of the First Bank of Castle City. And the richest man in town. All Mortimer Hale owned were the clothes on his back before Locke took him in and gave him the newspaper to run.”

  And in return, Hale used the Clarion to help Locke take over the town—and look clean the entire time. Travis thought of all the occasions Aaron Locke and his clerks from the bank had come into the saloon. Travis had been glad to see them, had served them drinks. Locke had seemed so cheerful, always a smile on his boyish face.

  “Why now?” Lirith said. “If Lord Locke has gone to such trouble to deceive us, why has he now revealed in this note that he is the leader of the Crusade?”

  “Pride,” Durge said. “A man who builds something of which he is proud cannot resist claiming it as his own.”

  Tanner nodded. “I think you’re right in that, Mr. Dirk.”

  “At least now we know whom we’re fighting,” Travis said.

  Maudie wrung her hands. “But you can’t fight them, Mr. Wilder. Not all of them. Aaron Locke is a powerful man. Who knows how many men he has working for him?”

  Travis made a list in his mind. Gentry. Ellis. Hale. Wilson. The thing that had once been Calvin Murray. Maudie was right, he couldn’t fight all of them. But maybe he didn’t need to. Wasn’t that the idea Brother Cy had helped give him?

  “What if we don’t fight all of them, Maudie?” Travis said. “What if we fight just one of them?”

  The others looked confused, all except Tanner. “You’re talking about challenging Aaron Locke to a duel.”

  “He’s a prideful man, we know that. Do you think he’d accept?”

  “He’d have to,” Tanner said. “The kind of men he’s got working for him only respect power. If a man challenged Locke, they’d expect him to take the challenge. But that doesn’t mean it would be a fair duel. Locke’s men wouldn’t mind a bit of low dealing. And what’s more, I’ve heard Locke is a crack shot.”

  Travis was less worried about Locke’s skill with a gun than he was about the sorcerer. But Sareth had said the Scirathi wouldn’t want to dirty his hands, that he would leave the crude work to his henchman. And that meant they might have a chance, even if Locke and his men cheated.

  “So it might work,” Travis said.

  “No, Mr. Wilder. It won’t.” Tanner lifted his right hand. It vibrated, outline blurring. “I can’t fight a duel.”

  “No, but I can.” Travis reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the folded poster. He also pulled out his wire-rimmed spectacles and slipped them onto his face. At once everything in the room looked strange and wavering, as if viewed underwater. Coronas of light danced around everyone, but this wasn’t the time to study them. Travis unfolded the poster and held it where all could see.

  Maudie stood—forgetting her cane in her surprise—and pressed both hands to her chest, her mouth wide-open. “I knew there was something curious about you, Mr. Wilder, something you were hiding. Only a man’s business is his own, so I never asked. But I knew it!”

  Tanner’s expression was thoughtful. “No matter what Miss Lily says, I’m still the sheriff in this town. And last I knew, you were a wanted man in five states, Mr. Caine.”

  Travis carefully folded the poster. “So are you going to arrest me, Sheriff?”

  Tanner only grinned.

  60.

  They began spreading the rumor at the Mine Shaft that night.

  When Travis and Lirith first got to the saloon, it was emptier than they had ever seen it. A lone miner stood at the bar, and a pair of ranch hands were hunkered down at a table in the corner, but that was all. Travis doubted there were enough people in the place to transmit an especially virulent strain of the flu around town, let alone a story.

  Lirith sighed. “I suppose people aren’t coming for fear of the Crusade.”

  “That didn’t stop us,” Travis said with a grim smile.

  As the daylight outside burned from fire red to ash gray, more people drifted into the saloon. They were a hard-looking lot, their hands dirty, their faces haggard. They drank their whiskey without a smile and played at Lirith’s faro table without uttering a laugh or curse. These were people who had nothing left to lose.

  By dark the saloon was, if not crowded, at least no longer desolate. Behind the bar, Manypenny flipped through the pages of the ledger. “By Jason’s Golden Fleece, even if this blasted Crusade doesn’t burn down my establishment, they’ll still put me out of business.”

  Travis looked over the saloonkeeper’s shoulder at the ledger. According to the figures in the last column, the daily take for the saloon was a third of what it had been just a month ago.

  Manypenny slammed the ledger shut. “Those hoodlums have chased away all of my regular customers. Why, even Mr. Locke and his boys from the bank didn’t come in tonight.”

  A fact for which Travis was glad. He supposed the sorcerer had promised Locke all kinds of rewards in return for gaining the scarab. Once Locke delivered the jewel, the Scirathi would give Locke whatever he needed to take over the town once and for all. Travis wasn’t certain what that might be. However, a picture of the thing that had been Calvin Murray flashed through his mind, and he shuddered.

  Durge stepped through the swinging doors at nine o’clock— right on schedule. The knight paused near the entrance, surveying the room, his deputy’s badge gleaming. After a minute he headed for the bar.

  “Did I do it properly?” Durge said in a low voice, as Travis poured him a sarsaparilla.

  Travis pretended to wipe down the bar. “You were perfect. Everyone saw you come in, and from the way you looked around, they’ll all think you’re looking for someone.”

  Travis moved to the other end of the bar, and Durge sipped his drink. Then, a minute later, Lirith called a break at her faro table and sauntered up to the bar next to Durge. The knight caught the attention of Manypenny, who brought a second sarsaparilla, this one for Lirith. She laughed and thanked Durge with a kiss on his craggy cheek. That drew the notice of more than one pair of eyes in the saloon. Travis knew many of the saloon’s patrons would have fancied a kiss themselves from the pretty Miss Lily, and no doubt they wondered how the deputy had gotten so lucky.

  “You’ve hardly touched your drink, Deputy.” She draped her arm around Durge’s shoulders. More eyes followed this action. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Durge said, his voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You know the sheriff has taken ill? It seems others have heard the news as well and have decided to take advantage of the situation.”

  Durge was a better actor than Travis would have guessed. His words were suitably grim, but there was also a private note in them, as if they were meant only for Lirith. However, Travis noticed a number of ears cocked in the knight’s direction. He kept wiping down the bar.

  Lirith took a sip of her drink. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been hearing stories,” Durge said. “Stories that tell a gunslinger is coming to town, and that he plans on challenging the leader of the Crusade for Purity to a duel
.”

  Lirith lifted a hand to her throat. The witch was also not without dramatic skills. “A gunslinger?”

  “That’s right. I’ve got to be on the lookout. They say he’ll be coming into town at sunset the day after next—a man by the name of Tyler Caine.”

  The saloon was so quiet Lirith’s next words rang out almost like a shout.

  “Tyler Caine the man-killer? He’s coming here to Castle City?”

  The echo of Lirith’s words faded. She and Durge both cast suspicious glances around—a nice touch, Travis thought.

  “I’d better go now,” Durge said. “I’ve got to keep a lookout for Caine. I don’t know who the leader of the Crusade is, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t let this Caine challenge him to a duel. No matter what a man’s honor might require, gunfights are against the law.”

  Lirith touched his hand. “Be careful.”

  Durge tipped his hat, then headed out the doors. A moment later conversation erupted, far louder than before.

  “Did you hear that?” Manypenny said in a stage whisper that could have been heard a mile away.

  “Hear what?” Travis said innocently, gathering up empty shot glasses.

  Manypenny glowered at him. “Come now, Mr. Wilder, surely you heard the deputy just as well as I did. He’s coming here, to Castle City—Tyler Caine!”

  “You can’t put stock in rumors,” Travis said, although it was quite clear Manypenny did.

  The saloonkeeper smoothed his waxed mustache, eyes eager. “Whoever heads up this blasted Crusade for Purity, there’s no way he can win a duel against a gunslinger like Tyler Caine. By Jove, Caine is a bona fide hero.”

  “I thought he was a murderer,” Travis said, only it didn’t seem that Manypenny heard him over the clamor for whiskey that rose from the saloon’s patrons.

  An hour later, Travis finally got a chance to talk to Lirith. The whiskey had done its work, and the men in the saloon, dour and silent before, were whooping it up. No one overheard Travis and Lirith’s words.

  “It’s working, isn’t it?” she said.