by James Axler
The horses cantered past the companions as they huddled against the rock. Dust thrown up by the pounding hooves billowed in a cloud over them, choking and stinging lungs and eyes. Yet they held their nerve, keeping silent and still so as not to disturb the steeds, which were seemingly only a little more alert than the automatons who rode their backs.
The horses continued on their path down the narrow pass and onto the floor of the canyon, on the set circuit that they had completed since who knew when. The companions watched them go.
“Black dust! This gets weirder all the time. I’ll be happy when we get in, grab the kids and head out,” J.B. said softly.
“You make it sound so easy like that,” Krysty said wryly. “I can’t see that happening quite so easily.”
“Only one way to find out.” J.B. shrugged.
Jak’s eye teeth showed sharply in a humorless grin. “Let’s get fuckers,” he said before turning and starting toward the apex of the passage with a renewed vigor.
* * *
“FIREBLAST,” RYAN BREATHED. “They’re done for…” Inwardly he cursed himself for not taking that path himself and putting his companions in harm’s way.
He halted in his progress along the path that he traversed with Doc and Mildred. The three of them stood and watched, hardly daring to breathe as they watched the riders mount and start off toward the path where they knew their companions were currently standing.
Doc looked up at the sky, studying the sun.
“They are earlier than yesterday. Not by much, I grant you, but earlier nonetheless. Enough, dammit, to make a difference when you would rather there was not.”
“Screw that. I just hope they can get the fire off first,” Mildred stated. “It’ll wake the bastards up there to the fact that we’re here, but at least they’ll have a fighting chance.”
Ryan was transfixed. He knew he should be insisting that his trio continue their ascent. If there was to be a firefight as the riders hit the oncoming companions, then at least he could get his party into position to provide distraction and covering fire as the city of palaces was mobilized.
He knew that was what he should be doing, yet he couldn’t. He was transfixed by what was going on across the void, a mute observer who was powerless to affect the outcome.
Ryan was almost holding his breath as the horses reached the section of the path where he was sure that his three companions were located. He was only aware of that when he realized that the burning in his lungs was the air that couldn’t be released.
And then he blew out, relief and disbelief mingled as he saw the horses descend onto the floor of the canyon without so much as a pause. He had expected the sounds of blasterfire to rend the morning quiet, to alert the waking city to imminent attack, and to adrenalize the stasis in which he and his people now stood.
But there was nothing. No blasterfire of any description. No pause. No sign that the riders had even noticed that there was anyone in their path. He had no idea what the hell had happened. Had the other three managed to find—in the most unlikely of locations—some place in which to hide? Or was it that, in some bizarre way, the riders had managed to pass them without even knowing?
Although the latter was the least likely of explanations, it seemed that somehow that was the case.
“Son of a—” Mildred whispered, breaking the silence.
“I would not claim to understand what occurred,” Doc murmured, “nor would I wish to lay claim to any spurious notion of explanation. But I will say that to stay here now would be folly. If, as it appears, our friends have somehow managed to avoid the odious riders, by whatever means, then it falls upon us to tarry no longer and to continue, lest we let them down and betray the luck that they have so obviously been privy to.”
“Man, you talk too much,” Mildred said shortly, “but you’ve got a point. Let’s get moving, boss man.”
Ryan nodded. “Double quick,” he said. “One thing for sure, though—more weird shit is going down, so we need to be triple frosty for anything that we get. No letting this shit throw us off what we got to get done.”
“I hear you,” Mildred agreed. “Come on.”
Neither Ryan nor Doc needed further prompting. They set off at a redoubled pace along the path leading up to the city on the ledge. Certain that their companions weren’t only safe, but had almost definitely redoubled their efforts to reach their objective, the three companions on this side of the divide knew that they had to move fast if they were to start their diversionary tactics before the primary party could make its move. Under the existing conditions, with no real ability to maintain contact, it was up to Ryan’s people to make the first move. Only once they had started their diversion would the other three make their move. But they couldn’t stay poised and in anticipation for too long. It was only by luck that they had evaded detection this far. To tempt fate would be folly.
Ryan could feel the anxiety gnaw at his guts as they marched. Could they go faster at the risk of reaching the target area exhausted? It was hard to hold back even a little, but he knew he had to.
It was the only chance they had of making this work.
* * *
J.B. WATCHED THE RIDERS go down into the valley, wiping his eyes as the clouds of dust began to fade in the backdraft created by the horses.
“Dark night!” he said once more, his capacity for anything other than exclamation taken away by the sheer weirdness of this experience. It was like no other kind of fight they had ever—willingly or unwillingly—entered into. “It’ll take them about an hour before they make the circuit and hit where Ryan and the others are. Time enough for us to get in and out. Let’s move it.”
Jak merely grunted his agreement and continued his climb. Krysty, at his back, wondered if Ryan and the others would still be on the ascent, or would assume that the riders had somehow vanquished them and be on their way to find out. It was something that wouldn’t ever have occurred to J.B. and made him wonder what was going on in Krysty’s head. She had been the one most affected by the weird mind games of the trip to the canyon, and now it seemed as though it was making it hard for her to focus. It should have been obvious from the fact that there had been no firefight that Ryan and the others wouldn’t assume the worst, and would carry on the mission trusting to the companions on this side to make the ascent unharmed.
He said nothing to her except to assure her that Ryan would continue, but kept to himself the doubt about her being one hundred percent on the game. It was a worry that, as they reached the last few hundred yards and could now smell and hear the city just ahead and above them, was a concern.
Jak indicated that they should halt and hold back. They were at a slight bend in the canyon wall, enough to shield them from view and also to block their own view of the city as it awoke to the day.
The smell was appalling. In contrast to the gleaming appearance of the buildings from a distance, close up they could smell the blood and rotting flesh, the stench of dirt and feces, and the strong ammonia of urine that hadn’t been cleared. In the rituals of the day, there was obviously little room for simple cleaning.
No, the ville elders had higher, better things to occupy them. The ritual slaughter was part of that. And that was what made them truly dangerous.
“What do we do now?” Krysty asked quietly.
“We wait,” J.B. replied simply. And trust in Ryan, he added to himself.
* * *
RYAN, DOC AND Mildred now found themselves in a similar position on the far side of the city, except that they didn’t have the luxury of cover. Their path, though winding in its progress, now led them on a straight line toward the first of the mysterious palaces. Like the fighters on the far side, they were struck by the disparity between the appalling stench of the city as opposed to the gleaming beauty of the old buildings.<
br />
Any such further reflection was driven from their minds by the appearance of a man in front of them. He was wearing a multicolored coat, and his pockmarked, blank visage was betrayed only by the burning fire that made his black eyes gleam, hinting at a barely controlled savagery. Without even having time to consciously think about it, Ryan realized that this was the puppet master who had worked his insidious magic before the world went black for Baron K and his people.
More than that, as he stared at them without blinking, it seemed as though his hand merely twitched, and a blaster appeared in it. Long-barreled and heavy, it was a revolver that J.B. would have pinned down in a second. Ryan, for his part, took an educated guess at a Colt .44, accurate in a strong hand and liable to make a nasty hole in a man, even at the range that loomed between them.
How the hell had he managed to get that into his fist so bastard quick? Ryan was a good draw, but even so he had barely pulled the SIG-Sauer from its holster, and was in no position to fire first.
He should have been. The blaster should already have been in his hand before they reached this point. Something was slowing him: tiredness, torpor or some outside malign force, perhaps. It didn’t matter. It was about to cost him his life.
Or at least, that was what he thought before the quiet of the morning was shattered by the sharp crack of Mildred’s Czech-made ZKR. At his back, Mildred had been faster, and more alert. She was also a far better shot, at this distance, than any of them.
The barrel of the Colt .44 jerked up in the air, then drooped downward and fell as the pockmarked man’s lifeless fingers let free their grip on the blaster. It fell to the ground, hammer cocked, and exploded into life as it hit, the slug harmlessly gouging out a chunk of the rock floor. As for the former wielder of the blaster, his impassive face showed a sudden and almost comical surprise as a small round hole neatly appeared in the center of his forehead, a small trickle of blood bubbling around the bottom edge of the hole. It was only when he crumpled and hit the ground that the wet slap of the back of his head hitting the rock revealed that the exit wound from the small-bore caliber of the ZKR had made a more considerable impact on exit.
“Come on,” Ryan yelled, charging forward, as much to rouse himself from the momentary shock of staring death in the face as to whip up Mildred and Doc. The time for subterfuge had passed. Now they had to hit and hit hard, hoping that Jak and the others were ready in position.
As the pockmarked man hit the deck, Ryan was already past him, blaster now in hand and his mind refocused on the task ahead. Doc and Mildred were at his heels, each knowing what had to be done. They had to hit hard and get out fast. Their task was to cause chaos and pull back so that they could rendezvous with Jak, J.B. and Krysty…and hopefully the children of the ville.
The crack of the blaster had attracted some unwelcome attention. Ryan had hoped that they would be able to create chaos before they drew fire, but it was obviously not going to be their day for luck. For, as they moved from the canyon and onto the ledge of the city itself, they could see that there were already armed assailants coming to meet them.
The city extended for almost five hundred yards along the ledge. To create a diversion that would be of some use to their companions, they would have ideally liked to have made some ground along the ledge before having to tackle any opposition. It wasn’t to be.
A wave of young men and women exited one of the buildings. There was no time to scan their faces to see if there was anyone among them who could be in their target group. The young people poured from the doorway and the windows of the building, yelling incoherently. They weren’t armed with blasters, but they carried the tools they had been using to construct the circle and the makeshift altar that had been the sacrificial site.
Wave upon wave descended on them. The sheer weight of numbers threatened to overwhelm Ryan and his people before they even had a chance to move. Nonetheless, survival was paramount. With a muttered curse Doc put paid to the charge with a blast from the LeMat. The shot spread out over the distance between them, the hot metal scorching as it rent flesh and bone. The screams of agony cut through the cries of attack and caused the crowd to pull back, allowing the three fighters to move forward with a little more ease. Mildred and Ryan used their handblasters to pick off the more dangerous elements—those who would have the extra courage to move past the pack.
They had to move in a manner that was by its nature perilous. The clear pathway ahead took them along the lip of the ledge. One charge regardless of personal safety could take them over the edge and back down the way they had come. Yet this was the only way that was unobstructed, taking them as it did over the sacrificial circle with a sudden drop in temperature that only registered subconsciously but nonetheless spurred them onward.
Now it was getting harder. The noise had brought out more people from the buildings, so that the ledge was swarming with hostile opposition. Ryan felt as though they were being pushed to the edge, with nothing but empty air at their backs. Among the faces that blurred into a mass in front of them, weaving in and out of the younger crowd, Ryan could see older men and women, with a harder edge to their eyes that made them stand out. They were moving faster, and with more purpose. Soon, they would be on the three companions, and it would be too late to take action.
The one-eyed man cast an anxious glance to the side of him. In just a snatched second it was almost impossible to tell how far along the ledge they had come, but the back of his brain worked furiously. From where he knew the circle lay after their forty-eight hours of observation, and from how far they had moved beyond it, he was able to make a rough guess that told him they were almost central to the city itself.
He could only hope that Jak and the others had taken their cue from the first blasts of the firefight and had moved into the city on their part of the mission, using the cover that Ryan and his team was providing. Fireblast! he thought. It certainly seemed as though they had drawn most of the populace down on them.
Even as these thoughts went across Ryan’s mind, he was picking off those of the mob in front of them who would dare to step forward. Flanking him, Doc and Mildred were doing the same.
But that couldn’t continue indefinitely. Indeed, even in the short time they had been firing, the crowd had crept palpably closer.
Why hadn’t the older, harder-eyed members of the crowd blasted them? They carried blasters, after all. Ryan could see that as he stared into the mob.
No, they had other ideas—capture and keep. Well, he had no intention of having his heart ripped out while it was still beating. It was time to create the real diversion, spread confusion and get the hell out. If they could…
He turned to Mildred and yelled at her. It came out as a wordless imprecation, but she knew what it meant. Letting her ZKR fall, she dipped into a pocket and her hand emerged with two gas grens.
In one fluid movement she pulled the pins with her teeth and tossed the bombs high and far into the crowd, noting with an amusement she hadn’t the time to feel the looks of confusion and bemusement on the crowd as the grens casually dropped into their midst.
And then, with a dull thump, they detonated… .
Chapter Eleven
“Now!”
As soon as the first crack of blasterfire had sounded, Jak led his companions into the middle of the city. They moved swiftly and with an assurance that almost seemed to make them invisible. Calculating that the sudden chaos caused by the diversionary attack would provide cover, they made their move. As the people began to pour out of the buildings and onto a ledge that was actually far too narrow for the numbers that were now jostling shoulder to shoulder with the interlopers, it became apparent that to move with any attempt at subterfuge and hesitation would make them stand out among the chaos that reigned around them. So to move swiftly and decisively, as though belonging in that space, would be by far t
he best thing to do.
It was difficult enough to keep an eye out for one another as the young people rushed aimlessly around them, let alone to try to spot the ones they were searching for. But they had little time, and in the middle of the panic, their sense of purpose seemed to give them the calm to focus on what they needed to do.
While the kids were thronging around them, too, they had the advantage that the elders of the city wouldn’t be able to spot them so easily. Those who had emerged were concentrating on moving across to the area where Ryan, Doc and Mildred were mounting their raid. For now, Jak, Krysty and J.B. had free rein.
It soon became apparent from the way that the groups of young moved around them, only parting to let them through in certain patterns, that despite the influence they may be under, they were still bonded and ran together in the groups by which they had been abducted. So it was that, in the midst of the formless shouting and the stench of fear that added to the already overpowering odor of the city, they could see individually that their prey would most likely still be gathered in an almost feral pack.
J.B. doubted that would make it easier, and was beginning to doubt the sense of their course of action, when out of the milling throng the solution almost literally bumped into him. There, in the middle of a pack of kids ranging from about twelve to eighteen, was a tall, rangy girl with tangled flowing black hair, a chiseled nose, and eyes that were almost as wild and dark as her mane.
He’d never seen the girl before, but she was so much like her father and the description he had provided that there was no doubting that she was Baron K’s daughter. And, by the same token, those around her had to be the rest of the kids who had been taken, and who they had been dispatched to find. She was about to brush past him when he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, swinging her around so that she looked him right in the face.
Or should that be looked right through him. Her eyes were sightless and piercing, focused on something that only she could see. For a moment she was still, and then she started to squirm, her mouth contorting in a formless wail of anger and frustration as she tried to pull herself away.