TALES OF THE FAR WEST

by Scott Lynch

  That morning Pei Pei found her stone shoes missing, replaced with bricks of lead. She could barely move them, grunting with each step toward the other wooden dummy. From the floor, she could attack only its lower half. She began the practice that Tsau and Erasmo had taught her.

  “He wouldn’t go with you?” she asked. The wooden dummy no longer hurt her hands. She struck harder and harder, her arms stronger than they had ever been.

  “He was afraid,” said Erasmo. “But I insisted. They stopped us before we could get away, but not before I shot a few of their men.”

  “That’s why they took your hands,” said Pei Pei. She looked at her own toughened fists and wondered whether it was worse to be armless than legless. “What happened to your brother?”

  Erasmo struck his heel to the ground. A triangular blade snapped forth from the toe of his boot. With a single sweep, he severed two arms from the wooden dummy.

  “Those aren’t legs,” said Pei Pei. She complained to cover her excitement. At last the Tinker had built her new legs.

  “Rushing Rabbit!” The Tinker hooted, a smile creasing his whiskers. He waved the metal limbs above his head. The legs were steel arcs composed of shorter tubes interlocking like an armadillo’s shell. They did not resemble legs at all. Each looked more like a drooping V with a leather cup and straps on one end. At the joint was a cluster of gears and springs leading to a short cylinder just beneath the hip. With those attached to her stumps, she would indeed resemble a rabbit, at least from the waist down.

  “How could I even stand on those?”

  The Tinker chortled as he cinched her legs into the cups. He pulled the straps tight enough to make her flinch, but she did not complain.

  He stood back and waved his hands. “Hop, hop!”

  Pei Pei leaned forward, pushing herself off the high stool in the Tinker’s workshop.

  The weird legs supported her, even though it took time to adjust to the backward-bending joints. She felt taller than she had before losing her legs. She had to duck her head as she stepped through the door.

  “Hop, hop!” cried the Tinker. He slapped his thighs, laughing.

  Slowly at first, and then with increasing confidence, Pei Pei strode beside the village huts. She loosened the dials on her thighs and grew taller still, the legs expanding as she moved more quickly. In a moment she stood as tall as a stilt-walker.

  “Hop hop!”

  The day the Tinker strapped new arms on Erasmo, the cripples began training in earnest. While he could not play the guitar with his mechanical hands, whose fingers were more like metal claws, the mariachi could shatter a fresh timber with one blow or crush an iron pipe.

  Pei Pei learned to use her rabbit’s legs. When she gradually turned the dials on the thighs, she could release the springs until she stood over eight feet tall. Then her stride was yards long, and she could outrun the swiftest of the village horses. With Doc to translate the Tinker’s instructions, she learned to tighten the dials just enough to let her weight press down on the springs and return her to her normal height. When she saw the mad engineer slapping his thighs, she did the same. The spring legs threw her high in the air. She struggled to turn, but she crashed onto the roof of a nearby house. If she had been going any faster, she might have leaped all the way over and broken her neck as she hit the ground. Erasmo and Doc ran over to help her down, but the Tinker danced a little jig and cheered, “Hop, hop!”

  Every week or so, Tsau borrowed a spyglass from the Tinker’s workshop and rode northeast to spy on the dig, returning a few days later. Two months after Pei Pei’s arrival in the village, Tsau reported that Presteign’s people had begun covering the airship’s superstructure.

  “How long before the ship can fly?” asked Pei Pei.

  The Tinker leaped up growling. Twice he pounced on some imaginary prey and snapped his teeth as it escaped him. Then he paused to consider before spreading the fingers of both hands, then four more fingers. With a grimace, he opened up his thumb for a fifth finger, then bobbed his head dubiously as he raised three more on his other hand, one at a time.

  Doc began to explain, but Pei Pei understood the pantomime. “Two weeks,” she said, thinking of the time it took Night Wolf to catch up to Rushing Rabbit. “Maybe a little more.”

  The Tinker whooped approval of her translation.

  “Ha!” Tsau pointed at Pei Pei’s legs. “Now that he has turned you into the rabbit, you understand his language.”

  Erasmo passed the spyglass to Pei Pei. She peered through it to see the guard patrolling the perimeter. Like a puppet, his silhouette was stark black against the lights illuminating the airship’s belly. He stopped for a second, whipping around as if he’d heard a sound. Whatever he saw caused him to relax, and Pei Pei spied the unmistakable outline of the Widow. The man strode toward her, reaching for her arm. The Widow’s fan snapped open to tickle the man beneath the chin. It snapped it shut again and the guard fell to his knees, clutching his throat.

  “That’s four,” said Erasmo. He whistled. “That woman, how formidable she is.”

  Pei Pei passed the spyglass to Invincible Tsau, slapping it against his shoulder with more force than she’d intended.

  “You are also very—”

  Pei Pei silenced him by lifting her chin, offended at the suggestion that her pride needed mollifying, but also embarrassed that she had once again let slip her growing jealousy of the Widow. No matter how horribly she had been disfigured, the mystery of the woman’s veil preserved her beauty in the men’s imagination. Thanks to her new legs, Pei Pei looked like a tall, skinny rabbit.

  “Time to move,” said Tsau. He lifted his rifle. “I will cover you.”

  Pei Pei was glad he had remembered to keep his voice low. The rifleman had been anxious both because the Widow had been elected to eliminate the guards and because he was to be last to enter the compound. Once he began firing, the time for surprise was past.

  Pei Pei touched Doc on the shoulder. “Get the Tinker to the gondola as soon as we clear a path. He has to stop that thing from using its weapon.”

  Doc took the Tinker by the arm and nodded.

  Pei Pei tightened the dials on her legs. Speed was less important than quiet, at least until they reached the barracks. At their shortest, her mechanical legs barely creaked when she walked.

  The inflated airship blotted out the stars over the dig site. Both of the moons had run behind it, both the dark mass of Night Wolf and the misshapen white Rushing Rabbit. From below the light of campfires illuminated the airship’s gondola. Blue-white light flickered from its portholes, and through the wide glass canopy Pei Pei saw the shadows of men moving inside the bridge.

  They dashed down the slope beside the barracks, pausing to listen for the snores. They jammed wedges beneath the door, knowing they would only slow any response to an alarm. Pei Pei glanced at Erasmo, who nodded. Their next move would trigger that alarm.

  They sprinted toward the slave pen, patrolled by armed guards. The nearest one saw them while they were still forty yards away.

  He raised his rifle. “Hey!”

  The man fell backward. An instant later, Pei Pei heard the crack of Tsau’s rifle far behind them. That was more than enough to wake the camp.

  Pei Pei dialed out her mechanical legs, darting forward to reach the gate just as the next shots rang out. One stirred the dust at Erasmo’s feet. Another tugged his cape to the side, but he kept running.

  Shifting her weight, Pei Pei shortened her legs and dialed them tight. She kicked through the stout beam of the pen. A second later, Erasmo arrived and chopped through another span of timbers.

  “Get up, all of you,” Pei Pei shouted at the prisoners. She pointed to the sound of Tsau’s steady rifle shots. “Run this way. Our friends will cover your escape.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, they obeyed. When a frightened man ran to the front, pushing aside a teenage boy, Erasmo snarled at him. “Help the women and children.”

  The man ba
lked until he saw the steel glint on Erasmo’s fist. Then he did as he was told.

  Tsau’s rifle continued its deadly cadence. Guards from the far side of the pen returned fire. The barracks door burst open to release a mob of groggy men in long underwear. The first fell to Tsau’s fire. Another died as they surged back inside for cover.

  The last of the prisoners emerged from the pen when a voice called out behind them, “Hold it right there.”

  Pei Pei turned to see one of the men who’d dragged her to the rails. She didn’t know his name, but she’d never forget his face.

  “You!” He hesitated a moment after recognizing her. An instant later, his eyes widened further. The tip of his rifled bobbed down as his arms trembled and slackened.

  Erasmo lunged forward and grabbed the man’s gun, his steel claws crushing the barrel. Still the guard stood dazed.

  Erasmo regarded Pei Pei. “So formidable you appear.”

  Before Pei Pei could object, a shadow emerged from behind the guard. The Widow jabbed another needle dart into the guard’s neck. He stiffened and fell flat on the ground.

  Erasmo’s regard shifted to the Widow as he bowed toward her.

  “Presteign is in the airship.” She scanned the dig, spotting several places where the guards took cover from Tsau’s fire. One group seemed to realize they faced only a lone attacker. They took turns moving one at a time toward the next shelter while the others fired in Tsau’s direction.

  “Where is the Tinker?” asked the Widow.

  He should have reached the scaffold by now, Pei Pei thought. But she saw no sign of the little man or Doc.

  “There,” said Erasmo, pointing with his metal hand.

  Pei Pei saw them running hunched over from the direction of the powder shack. The Tinker carried a bundle under each arm. Doc’s eyes were wide with fear as they hustled toward the scaffold.

  “That was not the plan,” said Erasmo.

  “We have to clear the way for them.”

  As they reached the scaffold, men emerged from the gondola. One of them was Denson. Erasmo called out at the sight of the other one.

  “Blaz! Come home with me.”

  Blaz hesitated.

  “You said you killed him,” growled Denson. He drew his own pistol and pointed it at Blaz’s head. “Do it now.”

  Blaz drew his gun. He pointed it downward, its muzzle wavering between Erasmo, Pei Pei, and the Widow.

  “Shoot him!” howled Denson. He cocked his pistol.

  Pei Pei crouched, slapped both of her leg dials, and leaped. She soared past the first three levels of the scaffold, angling to intercept the gunmen on the fourth.

  Too late.

  Blaz fired twice. Down below, Erasmo threw himself in front of the Widow, shielding her with his body. He fell, and she dropped to her knees beside him, her hands searching for wounds.

  Denson tried to turn his gun from Blaz to Pei Pei, but she hit him first. They tumbled together on the platform, long legs tangling beneath her. They remained stretched out to their full extension because she hadn’t landed on her feet.

  After a moment’s wonder at her strange legs, a fierce grin creased Denson’s jaws as he recognized his attacker. He pointed his gun at Pei Pei’s face. She grabbed his wrist. When he felt her strength, his smile faded. His other hand snaked up and caught her by the throat, squeezing her windpipe shut.

  “CAST OFF!” boomed a voice inside the canopy. Even distorted by the mechanism increasing its volume, Pei Pei recognized Presteign’s voice.

  “Not yet, damn you,” grunted Denson.

  Pei Pei grabbed his strangling hand but lost control of his gun hand. They struggled for a moment before Denson got his knee up and knocked the breath from her lungs. She faltered. He kicked again, throwing her back to fall on the iron scaffold.

  “Stand away from her, Denson!”

  Bloor called out from a turret in the airship. He gripped the handles of a cannon, a shining steel sphere with a conical barrel enmeshed by copper wire. He pointed the apparatus at Pei Pei, who smelled the unmistakable odor of a coming storm. Bloor kicked a pedal. A keening whine grew louder and higher as blue-white sparks danced along the coils.

  “Wait!” shouted Denson. “Don’t leave me down here.”

  Pei Pei closed her eyes against the flash. She kicked back, scrabbling away from the impact. The blast jerked her legs up, flipping her across the scaffold. She crashed against the rails, dazed and blinded.

  When her sight returned she saw the white edges of a hole burned through the upper platform. Her metal legs glowed red, and she felt the searing heat of them even through the leather harness. She grabbed the dials at her hips, but they were too hot to touch. She was trapped by her own legs, floundering on the iron platform.

  Above them, the vast airship moved. Its crew had already released the other moorings, but one remained bound to the scaffold.

  On the other side of the molten gap, Denson cringed away from the heat. When he spied Pei Pei, he bent to retrieve his fallen pistol.

  “RELEASE THAT MOORING, DENSON.”

  The scaffold listed to the side. Pei Pei grabbed hold of the rail while Denson scrambled for his gun.

  Behind her, two men dropped onto the scaffold from a rope ladder hanging from one of the canopy windows. One cried out and fell to a gunshot. Another shot pinged off the scaffold as the second man drew and crouched for cover.

  Pei Pei glanced down to see that Tsau had run into the open for a clear shot at the men on the scaffold. He drew a bead on the second man behind her. Before he could fire, a volley of shots rang out from the barracks. The first spoiled his aim. The second struck the mirrored hat from his head. The rest knocked him to the ground.

  The gunman near her paused to enjoy a look at Tsau’s fate. Pei Pei grabbed his gunbelt, pulling him down even as she pulled herself up, and punched him hard in the throat. The man choked and lost his grip on the pistol. Pei Pei struck it from his hand, then jerked him to the side to throw him over. He tumbled over the railing, his weight sending the scaffold listing to the side as the molten hole parted the upper platform.

  “Are you all right?”

  Pei Pei nearly lashed out before she recognized Doc’s voice. He crawled onto the remains of the platform, pressing both hands to the wobbling platform to keep his balance.

  “Where’s the Tinker?” she asked.

  Doc looked up. Pei Pei saw the rope ladder shake and imagined the little man’s round bottom disappearing into the portal a moment earlier.

  Another shot, and Doc clutched his belly. She whirled back to see Denson aiming his pistol at her.

  Another crackling beam struck inches away from Pei Pei. She reached for Doc, but he had already fallen away. She watched in horror as his body plunged down, striking a rail on the second level, then hitting the ground near Erasmo and the Widow.

  Pei Pei felt the Fury engine in her own heart. She heard the whine of Bloor’s lightning cannon and saw Denson raise his gun for another shot. She could not retract her legs, but she could still use her arms. She pushed herself off the platform as Denson fired again. She grasped the iron railing and swung to the level below.

  Hand over hand she went, her long legs scraping the platform below her. Denson fired. His shot ricocheted off an iron post a few feet away.

  The lightning beam sputtered and blasted its way through the iron above her. It spat chunks of glowing metal to the ground, and thunder shook the scaffold. Denson shouted at Bloor. The snap and hiss continued a second longer. The scaffold bent deeper, a willow bowing to the storm.

  “No!” cried Erasmo.

  Pei Pei looked down to see him pushing the Widow away, encouraging her to flee before the scaffold fell on them.

  She heard the charging whine of the lightning cannon and looked up. Denison climbed up the last mooring line up to the gondola. From the gun turret, Bloor turned the cannon toward her. He didn’t leer like the other men. Instead, he clamped his jaw shut in an expression of determin
ation at odds with his comical attire.

  A single shot cracked, and the monocle shattered. A red tear oozed out beneath the shattered glass as the man tumbled backward, out of sight.

  Even riddled with bullets, Tsau made the perfect shot. His legs lay motionless, but he crawled toward the Widow and Erasmo.

  Pei Pei released her grip on the scaffold and fell down beside them. The metal of her legs complained as the shafts drove back into place. She felt the click of the dials on her hips. Looking back up at Denison, she knew she could make the jump. Her legs could carry her all the way up to her revenge.

  But to do that she would have to leave the others to die.

  She pulled the Widow to her feet. “Help me carry him.”

  They reached for Erasmo, but he shook his head. “I can move,” he said. “Help Tsau.”

  Pei Pei could not understand how he had survived the gunshots until she saw his metal arm. Imbedded at the wrist and elbow were the flatted slugs from his brother’s gun.

  They ran until the force of the collapsing scaffold threw them to the ground. Molten fragments rained around them. Pei Pei raised her metal legs to shield Erasmo, who covered her with his steel arms. When the storm ended, they looked up to see Tsau and the Widow sheltering each other.

  “We can’t leave,” said Pei Pei. “Presteign is still up there.”

  “She is right,” said the Widow. “There is no hope of the prisoners’ escaping that cannon.”

  As if the man had heard her words, the airship bobbed free of the scaffold. Pei Pei saw Presteign behind the wide viewport of the bridge. She could no longer hear his voice, but she saw him shouting at Denson, who ran to take over the gun turret. He turned it toward them.

  They took shelter behind the barracks, where the confused guards had ceased shooting and began shouting at the airship not to abandon them.

  The next blast of the lightning gun silenced their cries as it blew the barracks to flaming splinters. A few survivors ran from the smoldering wreckage, cursing. Presteign wanted no survivors knowing where he had taken the airship with its terrible weapons.