Crimson’s sleeves had fallen down around his shoulders, revealing his thin, bony arms. Kal had no idea where the Cardinal got the strength to hoist Francks over his head and hold him there. Certainly, he couldn’t last long. Kal just needed to keep him talking.
‘It won’t end there, Crimson,’ said Kal. ‘Or should I call you Ignus?’ Crimson flinched at the name but still didn’t turn around. ‘Francks was right,’ he said out loud. ‘Too many people already know the truth.’
‘You don’t even know what you know,’ said Crimson. ‘That’s always been your downfall, heretic. Too little knowledge, too late.’
Kal slipped his laspistols from their holsters, drawing them out silently. He wondered why Francks wasn’t struggling. The man had killed two assassins with his bare hands. If he couldn’t take Crimson, something must be wrong.
Kal continued talking. ‘Let me see if I can get close. You murdered that glowing guy down there a long time ago and Francks here is the only witness. That about sum it up?’
Francks raised his head and looked at Kal. There was an odd gleam in his eyes and he smiled broadly. Kal mouthed at him, ‘Can you fight?’
Francks simply shook his head and closed his eyes.
‘There’s more in this universe than life and death,’ said Crimson. ‘But I wouldn’t expect a heretic bounty hunter to grasp the intricacies of philosophy.’
‘I figure the rest of the story is all Redemptionist crap anyway,’ said Kal. ‘Hardly worth my time. But that man is coming with me. You can walk away or not. It really doesn’t matter either way to me.’
Kal saw the exposed muscles in Crimson’s upper arms tense. He was getting ready to throw Francks over the edge. Kal had to go for broke. ‘I can drop you where you stand, Crimson,’ he called out. ‘One thing I am good at is shooting people. I can make you fall any way I want. Francks will survive. You won’t.’
Looking back, it might not have been the right tactic to try with a crazed fanatic like Crimson. Faced with death or losing, a fanatic will almost always choose death.
Crimson heaved Francks over the edge and dropped to his knees. Kal fired, but his blasts flew futilely over the Cardinal’s head. Crimson rolled to the side as Kal continued to fire. The Cardinal dived behind a half-wall as Kal rushed to the edge to see if the fall had indeed killed Francks.
The prophet lay on his back in a crumpled heap at the base of the wall. His right leg bent nearly double at the knee while his left arm twisted back at the shoulder and lay under his body. Blood pooled around the body and Kal could see a jagged rock sticking up through his side. But there was movement, and even from this height, he could see the man’s odd, swirling eyes.
Kal turned to advance on Crimson’s position. He aimed his laspistols toward the half-wall. ‘That was your third and final chance, Cardinal,’ called Kal. ‘You and your assassins have all failed. You’re just not very good at killing.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ said Crimson. ‘I’m just getting started.’ He rose up behind the wall with a plasma gun in his hands. ‘I left this here a long time ago for just such an occasion.’ He jammed a power cell into the weapon and fired.
Kal dived to the side as a large stone beside him exploded from the released plasma energy. Shards rained around him as he hit the ground. He knew better than to get into a gunfight against a plasma gun. The energy shells were like grenades. You just had to get close. However, the next shot hit the top of the wall, blowing it apart around his hands, and dropping Kal over the edge.
10: OVER THE EDGE
Cardinal Crimson rushed forward and pointed his plasma gun into the pit. He twisted his head back and forth, searching frantically for any sign of the heretic, Kal Jerico. The heretic must die! Both heretics. Jerico and that crazy false prophet, Francks. They would ruin everything. All he had built. All he had worked and fought and killed for over the years would come crashing down if those two heretics got their way.
He could feel it all slipping away from him. His heart beat so loud it pulsed and rang in his ears. His face felt flush and he laboured to get enough breath, wheezing through his lipless mouth. His tongue was like a wad of sandpaper in his mouth, and his hands shook so hard he almost dropped his gun into the worksite below.
Crimson’s eyes went wide as he focused on the scene below. There were so many people down there. So many witnesses to his defeat: his guards, the slaves and those idiotic townspeople. Past that a completely different battle raged with even more people coming to uncover his secrets; to get between Cardinal Crimson and his mission on this world.
And then there was Francks. The false prophet lay below him, broken, but still squirming, still trembling, still alive. ‘Why are you so hard to kill?’
Crimson pointed the plasma gun at Francks, but his trembling hand made it impossible to aim. He grabbed the butt of the gun with his free hand to steady it and tried to squint, forgetting that he had no usable eyelids.
‘The Emperor damn him to the depths of The Sump,’ cried Crimson.
‘You just can’t seem to finish the job, can you, Ignus?’
‘Who’s that?’ screamed the Cardinal. He waved his gun around and scanned the wall and the pit below. He checked over his shoulder as well. The voice seemed to have come from below, but he couldn’t be sure. It sounded like it was right next to him. ‘Is that you, Bowdie?’ he called. ‘What do you want from me? Why can’t you stay dead and buried like all the others?’
‘You can never kill me,’ said the voice. ‘I am forever. I will haunt you to your dying day.’
That had definitely come from below. Perhaps it was Bowdie. Perhaps it was just in his head. It didn’t matter. They all had to die now. Crimson fired his gun into the pit. The explosion nearly knocked him over the edge. ‘Leave me alone!’ he screamed. ‘I’ll kill you all. I will cleanse this place and raze it to the ground. Let’s see you rise from that!’
He fired again and again, waving the weapon around randomly and squeezing the trigger to unleash powerful blasts of plasma in all directions. Shards of rocks, hunks of metal, and pieces of bodies flew into the air wherever the energy shells hit. Crimson laughed with gleeful abandon with every shot, dancing up and down the edge of the pit as he fired.
‘I am the will,’ he cried. ‘I am the way. I am the holy rite of redemption. Feel my flame, feel my wrath and wither under my gaze. I am the will. I am the way…’
Yolanda wracked her brain for a sarcastic response to Ander’s vulgar proposal, but the best she could come up with was, ‘What, the pleasure of dragging your sorry butt in for the bounty?’
It was pitiful. With Jerico, she always had a zinger ready. It must be lack of sleep. She was off her game. That also explained how this idiot Orlock had got the jump on her in the first place.
‘Last chance,’ said Ander. ‘Drop your weapon and call off your gang, or we’ll wipe you out and dump the bodies in a hole. What’ll it be?’
Ander had her in a bad spot. She was flat on her back and he stood behind her. His groin was too far away and she’d never get her feet around before he pulled the trigger. Yolanda hated to admit it, Ander had the advantage. But she’d rather die than give him the advantage he was truly looking for.
Yolanda loosened her grip, letting her pistols flop around her fingers. At the same time, she tensed her body for action. Perhaps a scissors move with her legs or a quick roll to the side to make him miss, followed by two quick gun blasts.
‘That’s better,’ he said. His lips spread into a broad smile. ‘Now, get up slow–’
The air above Yolanda sizzled. A bright light arced over her head, blinding her. She blinked away the tears that welled up and grasped her weapons. Now was her chance. If Ander had been blinded as well, she might get the drop on him.
As she aimed her weapons, Ander’s pistol dropped from his hands and he fell to the ground next to her. His mouth lolled open slightly and his eyes had gone wide in surprise, probably from the large hole in his chest.
&nbs
p; ‘Did I get him?’ called Scabbs.
‘Yeah,’ said Yolanda, turning away from the glassy-eyed corpse. ‘Nice shooting. Feel free to gloat about that one. Took you long enough, though.’
‘Still a little busy here,’ replied Scabbs. ‘I’ve got Redemptionists breathing down my back, you know.’
‘Okay,’ called Yolanda. ‘Gloat later. Shoot more now.’ She grabbed Ander’s gun and stuck it into her vest. ‘Cover me,’ she called. ‘I’m coming over.’
Yolanda crouched behind the overturned cart. When she heard Scabbs’s laser blasts, she jumped over and dived into a forward roll. She came up blasting and sprinted in a zigzag toward Scabbs.
As she leaped over the low wall surrounding the slave encampment, a large chunk of stone exploded beneath her. She hit the ground hard and lay there for a moment.
‘What in the Spire was that?’ asked Scabbs.
Debris rained down around them. The worshippers panicked and began screaming. Some jumped the wall and ran off, heedless of the battles raging around them. Others curled into a ball and whimpered. Energy blasts exploded all around the work site.
‘Plasma gun,’ said Yolanda. She crawled to an intact portion of wall. ‘Can’t tell where it’s coming from. Damn!’
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Scabbs. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I just thought of the perfect comeback for Ander.’
Themis heard the snap of her wrist breaking over the whine of the chainsword. The pain shot up her arm like a laser blast. She tried to scream in pain but, with Gonth’s hand around her neck, only a gurgle escaped her lips.
She pounded on his chest with her free hand, but he just laughed at her as he turned to leave. She could see the battle behind him. It appeared even more chaotic than before. The Guilder guards and her girls had broken ranks and were diving for cover. The Goliaths had regrouped and were starting to pursue.
Themis searched for Lysanne, hoping she had found some way to get out from under the barrel of Gonth’s ganger. Then she saw her young lieutenant. She lay still on the ground, her wrap-around top covered in blood. The Goliath who’d been standing over her was no longer there. He must have gone off with the others.
She wanted to cry out. She wanted to weep for the loss of her girls, but the darkness invaded her mind. Lack of air was turning the world black around her. It looked like all was lost. Themis’s eyelids drooped. She wanted to let go, let the darkness take her. But she knew what lay on the other side, and it wasn’t death. At least not right away. She had to fight.
Grabbing hold of Gonth’s hand around her throat, Themis pulled at his fingers and then his thumb. Just a little air would give her a few more moments. Maybe she could call for a retreat. Maybe she could find some way to get away from this brute. Anything was possible with just a little more air.
Lysanne rolled over onto her stomach, lifted her chest off the ground, and puked. She wrung blood and vomit from her hair and looked over at the dead Goliath next to her. One minute he’d been standing there ready to pull the trigger, the next minute his chest simply exploded. The head had dropped and rolled between her legs while blood spewed from the lower half of his torso all over her face and chest.
She’d been so horrified Lysanne froze, completely forgetting about Themis and Gonth. It was the most repulsive thing she’d ever witnessed, and she’d seen her fair share of battles. Lysanne pushed the bloody vision out of her mind and concentrated on saving Themis.
She grabbed her weapon and ran through the chaos toward Gonth. Themis didn’t look good. One arm hung limp at her side while the other pulled at the monstrous hand around her throat. She’d stopped kicking, as if she had no fight left within her.
Gonth slapped Themis across the face and blood sprayed from her mouth. At that moment, Themis seemed to get a small gasp of air and then looked right at her. Lysanne saw a little fire still burning behind those fierce eyes.
Themis opened her mouth and forced one croaking word out: ‘Grenade!’ she called and held out her hand behind the Goliath’s head.
It was little more than a whisper, but Lysanne heard it clearly enough. She also knew better than to question an order from her leader, even one that seemed suicidal. She popped a frag grenade off her belt, pulled the pin, and tossed it.
It was a perfect throw. Themis snatched it out of the air, pulled her hand back, and slammed the bomb into Gonth’s face. He immediately dropped her and began to claw at his head. Themis pushed herself up with her good hand and scrambled away as Gonth danced around frantically.
When he turned toward Lysanne, she finally understood what had happened. The grenade was lodged in his open mouth. He pulled and pulled at it, but couldn’t get the bomb out past his teeth. Lysanne fell to the ground and covered her head with her hands. A moment later, the explosion rang out like thunder, and bits of bone and blood rained down around her again.
‘Come on,’ called Themis. ‘We got what we came for. Get the ’Cats. This place is totally scavved.’
‘Well, that could have gone better,’ said Kal under his breath. He clung to the wall just below Crimson, who continued to rant and fire his plasma gun. Luckily, Kal had been tucked under a bank of pipes and beams when the Cardinal peered over the edge. Now the man was so berserk, Kal doubted the Cardinal had any idea where or even who he was anymore.
He just wanted to scare him away, not send him into a psychotic episode.
Kal inched his way down the wall away from the lunatic, his fingers and toes clawing at thin, mortar-filled cracks. A few more metres to the side and he’d be hidden from view all the way down the wall. It was slow going and his shoulders were numb again. He’d spent too much time hanging from his hands today.
‘I’ve got to learn when to shut my mouth,’ he said. Kal glanced over his shoulder to see the chaos caused by Crimson’s tantrum. The guard lines had broken and the few remaining Goliaths moved freely through the chaos, thumping and shooting anything that moved. The Wildcats were more disciplined than the guards, and they seemed to be edging toward the door. Smart girls.
Kal climbed down the wall as he kept an eye on the various battles. If the ’Cats were here, Yolanda must be nearby. He found her a moment later. It looked like she was arguing with Scabbs while shooting at the last of the Orlocks.
The slaves and townsfolk were either catatonic or running for the exit. Those lucky enough to escape the plasma blasts and the Goliaths might actually make it back to civilization in one piece. One slave girl’s body lay draped across the miracle body. She must have died protecting it.
As Kal neared the bottom, he noticed that Crimson’s guards had regrouped on the hill after the slaves fled from the plasma gun. They seemed uncertain what to do next. They looked back and forth between the miracle body in the middle of the sniper zone and their boss, the crazed sniper himself. Kal couldn’t care less which way they went as long as they left him alone. He needed to get to Francks.
He dropped the last several metres and turned to run down the wall to his bounty. At that moment, a voice blared above the chaos.
‘Stop this madness now!’ screamed the amplified voice.
Kal twirled around to see who the hell was stupid enough to use a voice amp in the middle of this maelstrom. It was Tavis. What in the Spire was he doing here? The Guilder stood between the chaos at the door and the chaos surrounding the miracle body. Perhaps he thought he could bring some order with the force of his voice and his presence. To Kal, he looked like a lightning rod for more trouble.
‘This is my dome,’ he yelled through the amp. ‘You are trespassers and I am well within my rights to have you all shot or sent to the slave mines.’
Kal didn’t think it was the kind of rhetoric that would win him friends or influence people, but the rest of the dome fell almost completely silent. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to hear what the idiot with the amp had to say.
‘Leave now or I put a bounty on all your heads,’ he said. ‘I can do that. I’m a Guilder and you… you are
nothing. Nobody will even mourn your passing. Leave now. I want my dome back.’
Kal didn’t have time for this. He turned and ran toward Francks.
‘Leave,’ continued Tavis. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘I hear you,’ cried Crimson. ‘This was my dome before and it will be mine again.’
Kal stopped and stared at the Cardinal. He fired the plasma gun. Kal turned back to Tavis. The Guilder’s head, along with the amp and the hand that held it, exploded in a gory shower of blood, bone and plastic. The body stayed upright for a moment and then dropped over backward.
Kal was stunned. Crimson had just killed a Guilder, and on the Guilder’s property. He wished he had a pict camera to record it. He ran to Francks’s side. Along the way he noticed the Cardinal’s men had made their decision. They ran up the hill toward their spiritual leader, probably to hustle him out before the Guilder’s men took the law into their own hands.
‘Kal Jerico,’ said Jobe Francks. ‘I knew you would come.’
The bounty hunter stood above Francks, a look of deep concern on his face. It seemed to Jobe that he should be the one concerned as he could no longer feel his legs and it seemed impossible to even sit up.
‘How?’ asked Kal. ‘You don’t even know who I am.’
‘The tapestry is much influenced by your passage through this life,’ said Francks. His breathing was laboured and it took him a few moments to refill his lungs so he could continue. ‘You have touched a great many threads on your travels.’
‘Do you always talk like this?’ asked Kal. He smiled. ‘Or is this a special occasion?’
The bounty hunter kneeled down next to Francks and gently poked and prodded him. Jobe could have told him not to bother. His wounds were all internal and well beyond Jerico’s abilities to remedy, but he wanted the man to feel useful, so kept quiet.
‘I mean meeting me must be quite a treat,’ said Kal. He forced another smile, but Jobe could see the concern behind the bounty hunter’s sparkling eyes. ‘Especially for someone who’s been in the Ash Wastes most of his life.’
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