The Last Rune 4: Blood of Mystery

by Mark Anthony

  Travis nodded. “Right now I imagine rumors are flying all over town. I think people have gotten desperate. They’ll grab at any scrap of hope they can. It looks like your vision was right. Tyler Caine will come to Castle City.”

  She laid a hand on his arm and met his gaze. “Will he really?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Tyler Caine is a warrior skilled at wielding these guns which men of this world use for weapons. And you—”

  Travis gave a weak grin. “And I’ve got two days to learn how to shoot.”

  Travis got up early the next morning. He washed his face in the basin, picked up the straight razor Maudie had lent Durge, and looked in the mirror. He had kept his head and cheeks shaved over the last weeks by visiting the barbershop near the saloon, but he still had his goatee, and this was a job he needed to do himself. Concentrating on keeping his hand steady, he lifted the razor and scraped the whiskers from his chin.

  When he was done—and the bleeding had stopped—all that remained of his goatee was a red-gold handlebar mustache. He took the wire-rimmed spectacles from the bureau, unfolded them, and put them on. Finally, from the bedpost, he took the black-felt hat Maudie had found in her closet the previous day, shaped the brim, and put it on his head. He turned around, and Tyler Caine gazed back at him from the mirror.

  Except you’re not Tyler Caine. You look like the drawing on the poster, but who knows how true that likeness is? It’s certainly not a very good sketch. In life, Tyler Caine probably looks nothing like you.

  Except Tyler Caine probably didn’t look like anything in life anymore. The stories were true; he was dead. Only Travis wasn’t, at least for the moment. He headed downstairs.

  He wasn’t the only early riser. Lirith and Maudie were in the kitchen making breakfast. Durge and Jack sat at the kitchen table drinking tea. When she saw him, Maudie let out a cry and dropped the iron skillet of eggs onto the stove. She started coughing, then recovered and laughed.

  “Why, Mr. Caine, you give me shivers just to look at you.” She winked at him. “Or should I say, Mr. Wilder.”

  Travis cringed. “Let’s stick with the second one for now.” Travis had thought Maudie would be upset after he showed them the Wanted poster. Instead, she had been more excited than he had ever seen her.

  “Why, it was the Lord Himself who sent you to us, Mr.

  Caine!” she had said, beaming. “You’ll set things right, I know it. First you’ll rescue Mr. Samson, and then you’ll blast that Crusade right out of town.” She made her hands into guns, cocked her thumbs, and shot her fingers in all directions.

  Travis didn’t have the heart to tell Maudie he had never fired a gun in his life. But insane as it seemed, it was the only way out. They couldn’t possibly fight the whole Crusade at once. Travis had to hope that Locke would take the bait and accept the duel.

  And what if somehow you do manage to win the duel? What then? You’ll still have to deal with the sorcerer.

  At least with the Crusade out of the way, the Scirathi wouldn’t have servants to do his dirty work anymore. Nor would he have the scarab. Maybe that would give them a chance to get the gate back. Of course, they didn’t really need the gate, not if what Jack had said was true. All he had to do was use Sinfathisar.

  No. He didn’t dare use the Stone; there was no telling what would happen if he unleashed its magic. And it was more than that. He couldn’t just leave this town, these people. It was his fault things were so bad; he was the one who had brought the sorcerer through the gate. And that meant he had to set things right, just like Maudie said. If he couldn’t, then what was the point in having all this power anyway?

  Travis accepted a cup of coffee from Lirith and sat down at the table.

  Jack let out a snort as he shook the newspaper in his hand. “I don’t see how they can call this news. I haven’t read a single story concerning London since coming to this town. Is no one here even remotely civilized?” He folded the paper and tossed it onto the table.

  Travis stared. On the front page of the Clarion was a picture of a man: the same sketch as on the Wanted poster. BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THIS MAN, ALIAS TYLER CAINE, read the caption. HE IS CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS. IT IS ADVISED THAT ANYONE WHO ENCOUNTERS HIM SHOOT ON—

  Durge picked up the paper, crossed to the stove, and tossed it inside. “Perhaps you should remove your hat and spectacles for the time being, Travis.”

  Travis did.

  Lirith set a plate of toast on the table, then on her way back to the stove she stumbled.

  Maudie moved to her, spurs jingling. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

  Lirith managed a brave smile. “I’m fine, really.”

  Except she didn’t look fine. She looked like she hadn’t slept in two days.

  “I must say,” Jack announced in a loud voice as he dunked a piece of toast in his tea, “this town is quite barbaric, what with these dirt streets, the ruffians and hoodlums, that terrible disgrace for a newspaper, and sorcerers running hither and thither.” He waved a hand at Travis. “You’re a runelord. You really should do something about it, you know.”

  “I’m working on it,” Travis said, gritting his teeth. He glanced at Lirith. “How is Sheriff Tanner this morning?”

  “He’s alive, if that’s what you mean,” drawled a slow voice.

  They looked up to see Tanner standing in the doorway. He was dressed, his cheeks and chin freshly shaved.

  “And I suppose it’s Mr. Tanner,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Seeing as how according to Miss Lily I’m no longer the sheriff until I get her say-so.”

  “That’s right,” the witch said briskly. She moved to Tanner, laid a hand on his brow, and shut her eyes. “You’re better!”

  “Maybe I’ve got a spark of life left in me after all, Miss Lily.”

  She smiled. “I imagine you do. But today you’re still Mister rather than Sheri f. You’re doing well, but you’re far from fully recovered.”

  “I think I knew that already.” Tanner lifted a hand to the back of his head and winced. “It feels like I’ve been trying to waltz with an ornery mule.”

  “Can I get you some coffee, Bart?” Maudie said.

  “Thank you, Maude. That would be good.” He moved stiffly to the table and sank into a chair.

  Liza came downstairs then. She had been seeing to Niles Barrett—the Englishman was still unconscious—and now she helped Maudie put out breakfast in the dining room for the boarders. However, the rest of them ate at the small table in the kitchen, where they could talk.

  “I’ll need a gun, I suppose,” Travis said.

  Maudie gave him a sharp look. “Why, surely you have a gun, Mr. Cai...I mean, Mr. Wilder.”

  Travis opened his mouth, but Lirith was faster. “He lost it. Isn’t that right?”

  “Well, you can use my gun, seeing as it does me no good.” With a shaking hand, Tanner pulled a revolver from the gun belt at his hip and set it on the table. It gleamed bright silver; the grip was carved of smooth ivory. “It’s a .45 caliber Colt Single Action Army. A Peacemaker. Although, back when I was with the US Marshals, some of the men liked to call it a Thumb Buster.”

  Travis peered at the gun but didn’t touch it. It was big, the barrel as long as his hand, but sleek all the same. It looked powerful. And dangerous.

  “I’ve never shot one of these before,” Travis said.

  Tanner gave him a curious look. “A Peacemaker, you mean? It’s not so different than any other six-shooter you’ll have fired. It’s heavy, and the action’s stiff, but that’s about it. Though I suppose it would be good for you to practice some to get the feel of it.”

  “That would be good,” Travis said, letting out a breath. “I’m a little...rusty.”

  Tanner nodded. “I know a place we can go shoot. That is, if the doctor will allow me outside.”

  Lirith crossed her arms, her expression stern. “As long as you ride instead of walk.”

  “Yes
, ma’am,” Tanner said.

  However, it seemed Lirith didn’t entirely trust Tanner, as she decided to go along, as did Durge. The Embarran fetched a pair of horses from the livery, and Lirith and Tanner rode while Travis and Durge walked. Travis was worried someone might see them leave town, but the streets were deserted, and no one accosted them as they rode toward Granite Creek.

  They stopped in a small gulch. On one side, scattered on the dirt slope, were mutilated tin cans and the shattered remains of glass bottles. So they weren’t the only ones to use the place as a shooting range.

  Durge set up several of the less hole-ridden cans in a row, then returned to the others. Tanner handed Travis the six-shooter.

  “Go ahead and give it a try,” Tanner said. “It’s loaded.” Travis tried to recall what he knew of guns. There wasn’t much. He took it in his hands, trying not to fumble. “Is the safety off?”

  Tanner frowned. “Safety? What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” Travis muttered. He raised the gun, aware of Tanner’s eyes on him. Clenching his jaw, he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

  “You really are rusty,” Tanner said, letting out a low whistle.

  “You forgot to cock it. Go ahead—it’s easier if you do it all in one quick motion with your thumb. That’s right. Now keep your arm straight. Don’t tense up your shoulder. And squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

  Travis tried to keep all of this clear in his mind. He aimed, fired. Thunder rent the air of the gulch. Lirith and Durge winced. The cans, however, appeared unaffected. Travis fired again and again, until the gun clicked when he pulled the trigger.

  “Don’t forget to count your shots,” Tanner said as Travis lowered the gun. “You’ve only got six before you have to reload.” He gave Travis a handful of bullets.

  Travis stared at them; they felt hot in his hand. Tanner gave him a sharp look, then took both bullets and gun and showed Travis how to slip them into the chambers. He handed the gun back to Travis. “Ready to try again, Mr. Caine?”

  Travis made a decision. “I’m not Tyler Caine.”

  “I know,” Tanner said.

  “My shooting gave me away?”

  “It’s not that.” Tanner seemed to reconsider his words.

  “Well, it is that. You’re a terrible shot. But I knew it even before you picked up the gun. You look like him all right. But you don’t walk like a gunslinger.”

  “How does a gunslinger walk?”

  “Like he’s got death riding at his hip.” Tanner glanced at Durge. “Like our Mr. Dirk here walks.”

  Durge gave him a surprised look.

  Tanner grinned. “You don’t know any more about guns than Mr. Wilder does, Mr. Dirk, but I’d bet my life you’re no stranger to carrying a weapon. Only I can’t think what on Earth it would be.”

  “A sword,” Durge said in his deep voice.

  Tanner raised his eyebrows.

  “Can you teach me?” Travis said. “To shoot?”

  Tanner nodded. “You’ve got a steady hand. And there’s something about you, Mr. Wilder, something I can’t put my finger on. You don’t walk like a gunslinger, but you know something about power, and something about keeping it in check. That should serve you well. A man’s got to wield his gun, and not the other way around.”

  “So you can teach me.”

  “I can. But not in two days. It would take two months for you to get any good. And two years before you could face someone who’s as quick on the draw as Aaron Locke.”

  Travis’s hope crumbled. “So I have a steady hand but no skill.”

  “And I’ve got the skill and a hand that shakes like a scared jackrabbit,” Tanner said. “Between us we make one gunslinger, Mr. Wilder. Too bad there’s no way to put us together.”

  “Isn’t there?” Durge said.

  They all looked at the knight. He shifted his feet and glanced at Lirith. “Can you not do something, my lady? Something like what you did to...what you did in the Barrens?” There was a queer expression in the knight’s eyes. At first Travis thought it was fear. Then he realized it was awe.

  Lirith met Durge’s gaze. “It might work.”

  “What are you talking about?” Travis said, confused.

  Lirith moved to him. “There’s a way for me to grant some of Sir Tanner’s knowledge to you. If he’s willing.” She glanced at the sheriff.

  He shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about, Miss Lily, but if there’s a way to help Travis learn more quickly, I’ll be happy to see what it is.”

  “Very well,” Lirith said, and she took Tanner’s wrist in one hand and Travis’s in the other.

  Travis started to ask Lirith what she was planning, but before he could she shut her eyes and murmured something he couldn’t quite catch. Travis heard—no, felt—a rushing noise, and images flashed before his eyes. Only they weren’t just images, because he could hear and feel and smell.

  He stood in a valley between two forested ridges, his too-big boots squelching in thick mud. The hot air thudded with the noise of cannons, and ragged clouds of smoke drifted by like mist. Then a bugle called out, and he was running alongside men dressed in blue uniforms.

  He threw himself down on his stomach behind a fallen log, then raised himself up on his elbows, rifle cradled in his arms. A line of men in gray trampled a bean field, running toward him and the others. Shots rang out. The men in gray uniforms fell like wheat before a scythe. Travis fired, reloaded, and fired again until the rifle grew hot in his hands.

  More shots rang out, behind him now, along with the screams of men. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up into a pair of frightened eyes. The soldier didn’t look more than seventeen, his dirty gray uniform sagging from bony shoulders. Travis started to reload, but the soldier thrust down with his bayonet. Pain sank deep into Travis’s shoulder, but his scream was drowned out by the bellow of a gun. The young soldier’s head dissolved in a spray of red and gray, and his body toppled on top of Travis.

  The image blurred, refocused. Now Travis was on a sidewalk in a busy city. Brick buildings rose several stories above him. Horses clattered down steep cobbled streets. He caught the glint of a bay in the distance.

  A shout. There was a man running toward him. Travis saw his hand rise in front of him. Only it wasn’t his hand. It was smaller, knobbier, stronger. In it was a silver six-shooter with an ivory grip. The man running toward him pulled out a gun, aimed. Travis knew what to do. His gun fired, the man fell dead.

  More images flashed before Travis. He shot two men riding away from him on horses. A sack tumbled to the sage-covered ground; green bricks of paper money spilled out. Another man, a kerchief hiding his face, ran out of a bank, gun blazing. Travis felled him with a single shot between the eyes. He turned, and for a second, in a store’s plate-glass window, he caught the reflection of a man: He was slight of build, handsome in a sober way, with a sandy brown mustache and watery blue eyes.

  Sun glinted off the window, so bright Travis was forced to look away. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring at the same face, only older, wearier. Tanner stood before him. Lirith released his wrist. The sheriff took a staggering step back. He stared at her, then at Travis.

  “Who are you?” he said.

  Travis glanced down at the gun in his hand and ran a thumb over it. A minute ago it had felt heavy and alien. Now it seemed to fit snugly in his grip, and he could feel the expert way its weight had been balanced. In an easy motion, he raised the gun, cocked it, and fired. A tin can flew toward the sky, then clattered back to earth. He fired again, and again. Four, five, six. Each time, one of the tin cans skittered away. He lowered the gun and met Tanner’s stunned eyes.

  “We’re not who you think we are,” he said.

  They told him everything: how Durge and Lirith were from another world, and Travis from the future of this one, and how the sorcerer had followed them through. When they finished, Tanner was silent. He stared at the twisted metal cans. Final
ly, he nodded.

  “Maybe Maudie’s right. Maybe you really are Tyler Caine.”

  Travis tightened his grip on the gun.

  Lirith cast a worried look at Tanner. The sheriff’s face was gray. “We should be getting back.”

  “I’ll get the horses,” Durge said.

  They rode back to the town in silence and reached the Bluebell around noon. Tanner and Lirith dismounted, and Durge took the reins of the horses to lead them back to the livery. However, before he could go, the front door burst open, and Maudie rushed onto the porch, leaning on her cane. “Thank the Lord above you’re back!”

  Tanner seemed to forget his own weariness. He bounded up the steps and took her arm. “Maude, what is it?”

  “It’s—” A fit of coughing took her. He gripped her shoulders until it passed. “It’s Mr. Barrett.”

  The rest of them were on the porch now.

  “What is it?” Lirith said. “Has Lord Barrett finally awakened?”

  “No,” Maudie said, gasping. “He’s dead.”

  61.

  They buried Niles Barrett the next day.

  It was late morning when Durge fetched a wagon from the livery and drove them up the hill outside town to Castle Heights Cemetery. As Durge brought the wagon to a halt, a tall man in a black suit approached. For a moment Travis wondered if it might be Brother Cy.

  It wasn’t. The undertaker was about Travis’s age, his face as dusty as his suit. Tanner spoke to him, and he pointed across the cemetery. Durge helped Maudie down from the wagon and guided her across the rough ground. Tanner offered his arm to Lirith in a polite gesture. However, Travis could see the way the sheriff leaned on her as they walked. Travis came last, along with Jack, holding on to the small bunch of wildflowers Lirith had picked that morning. Travis, Durge, and Tanner had donned their best shirts, and Lirith her gray dress, which matched Jack’s suit. Maudie was dressed all in black.

  “He doesn’t have a wife to mourn him,” she had said back at the Bluebell. “So I guess it’s up to me.”

  They found his grave on the far side of the cemetery, a hastily dug pit. Lying within was a pine coffin. The only marker was a plain wooden cross.