Bulletproof Witch

by F J Blair

  The bag lay near the river’s edge, once again wedged between several fallen logs. Hell, possibly the same logs as before. The way today was going, that wouldn’t even be the strangest thing to happen to her. Wouldn’t even rank in the top five.

  The biscuits were even more damp than before, so she pulled out the worst and stuffed them into her mouth without inspecting them too closely. They were chalky and bland, the signature feature of all of Martin’s baking. She gulped them down anyway.

  One problem solved. Now to put some miles between me and that monster.

  Assuming, of course, that the horse-beast wasn’t ahead of her somewhere. If it was, this time she might just jump back in the river and take her chances floating out to sea.

  Time stretched on towards sunset. She moved at a slow plod, one foot in front of the other. Shadows lengthened around her, and with them a chill began to ebb out of the canyon walls, its cold touch like a foretaste of the night that awaited her. Although the cliffs had grown lower the further she traveled, they refused to provide so much as a handhold for her to climb up. Instead she walked a shrinking path, the river consuming ever more of the canyon.

  With each step forward, her head grew clearer and her thoughts darker. She had long since given up hope of finding her missing bandoliers. If they hadn’t gotten stuck along the bank then they surely had made their way out to sea by now.

  The loss of so many hexbullets should have filled her with anger, but she only felt tired. It was fitting, somehow. At the moment it felt like she had never deserved them in the first place. Never earned the right to so much power. This was merely the gods’ way of rebalancing the scales against her.

  Temperance wasn’t one to put much stock in the Divines, but even a blind man couldn’t help but see the hand of retribution raised against her over the last year. After all, she started her journey with little more than a handful of bullets and a few tricks, but between her and Astor, anything had seemed possible.

  Now her spells were gone, her tricks spent or rendered unusable, and she was alone. Well and truly alone, as she hadn’t been for years. She had failed, in every way it was possible to do so. Might be that the Three were trying to tell her something. Pity it took something like this before she got the message.

  Or perhaps it was the spirit of her grandfather that opposed her, shamed by her failure to avenge his death. If that was the case, perhaps there were worse outcomes than dying out here, alone and forgotten. Better if she went to the wrong side of the dirt now, before anyone learned what a disgrace she was to the name of—

  A high-pitched scream pulled Temperance from her thoughts. The sound had the unmistakable cry of a creature on the hunt, somewhere not too far behind her. It was all she could do not to bolt like a scared rabbit.

  Alright, she admitted, somewhat reluctantly, I guess I don’t want to die that badly.

  She pushed herself to go faster. No more than a minute passed before the scream came again. Closer this time.

  Heat started to work its way up Temperance’s spine. At first it had the familiar warmth she had grown accustomed to over the years, giving her a moment of false hope. Then the heat intensified, crawling over her skin like someone tracing patterns with a branding iron.

  She broke into a run.

  Her path narrowed to a bare strip between the cliffs and the river’s edge. Rocks sprang from the shadows to trip her up, but she clambered over them with a precision born of pure terror. Another cry sounded behind her. The beast’s labored panting bounced between the canyon walls.

  Temperance rounded a sharp corner and skidded to a halt. Before her sat the last thing she had expected to find in this forgotten little corner of Korvana.

  Am I dreaming, or have I just lost what little sanity that remained?

  In a shallow alcove formed by an old cutbank, someone had set up camp for the evening. A fire sputtered and hissed within a circle of stones. Several fish were spitted nearby, just waiting to be cooked.

  The fire’s owner huddled next to them, warming their hands, oblivious to her presence or the approaching danger. For a heartbeat Temperance stood frozen, debating what to do. If she kept running, would the horse-beast follow, or would it turn upon this interloper? Was this her chance to get away?

  And if so, was escape worth the life of a stranger?

  The stranger in question glanced up. Eyes widened, and they leapt to their feet in alarm.

  It was a young man, more of a boy, really. He was thin and lanky, with so little muscle to him that Temperance suspected she could have picked him up and broken him over her knee. Several lines of surprise creased a face that was smooth and yet unacquainted with a razor’s sharp edge. From a brief glance at his camp it was obvious the boy had spent little time out of the city. Only the coarseness of his brown hair showed otherwise, which someone had hacked with an inexperienced hand nearly to his skull.

  Also, his clothes looked like he had pulled them from a rag bin: a mishmash of styles, all a size too big for the poor boy. His hands clutched a damp stick, which he thrust out in front of himself like a spear.

  “Fralet!” The words were in a language Temperance had never heard before. Then, in heavily accented Davosh, the boy stuttered, “S—Stay back! I do not want to hurt you!”

  Temperance stood there in confused silence. An angry cry from behind shattered her stupor, bringing with it a decisiveness that she hadn’t felt in days. While she might have been willing to leave a grown man to his fate, there was no way in Hell she would abandon a child who looked fresh out of Arkton.

  She darted forward, and the boy raised his stick. With an almost casual flick of her wrist Temperance knocked it aside and seized hold of the boy. He let out a yelp as she set off running down the path.

  They stumbled over rocks and wet logs at little more than a crawl, but any distance between them and the horse-beast was a win in Temperance’s estimation. She could feel the heat along her spine growing more intense, the pain of it making her movements stiff and difficult, slowing them down even further. The boy’s constant tugs on her arm didn’t help matters either.

  Temperance still hadn’t ruled out jumping into the river to escape, but the water was too shallow here to do much good. If only there was a spot where the two of them could climb . . . .

  Her arm made a cracking noise as the boy tugged harder than before. “Faurdamm das! Let go of my hand!”

  “Trust me, you don’t want that.” Temperance risked a glance over the boy’s shoulder. Sure enough, there was the horse-beast, just reaching the abandoned camp. One of his spider legs caught the fire, scattering flaming branches into the river.

  She spat a curse that would have bleached her hair white under normal circumstances. The boy must have understood enough or caught the tone of her words and glanced back as well. He let out a high-pitched yelp at the sight of the monster.

  This time when Temperance tugged him along, he did not resist.

  Water lapped at their feet now. Temperance led them across a stretch of rapids where the river didn’t even reach to her knees. There was a slim chance that whatever wore Astor’s skin wouldn’t cross after them . . . that hope died as she heard splashing behind them. She didn’t bother turning around. The fire creeping along her back was near unbearable.

  They reached another small alcove around the time that her legs gave out. As the boy leaned over and sucked at the air, Temperance weighed her options. Three hex spheres left, all of which had about as much chance of stopping that thing as hurling one of her revolvers at it. She had her knife, but if it got that close the fight was over already. Could they hide somewhere?

  Temperance glanced up, measuring the distance. Even if the boy climbed on her shoulders, no way he would reach the top of the cliff before the horse-beast was on top of them. She turned, about to tell her companion to keep running, when a sudden, mad thought occurred to her.

  It won’t work. Even if it does, we might die from the effects of it anyway. Or we’ll
just drop right back into that thing’s waiting jaws. All these thoughts and more poured through her head. She brushed them aside and wrapped an arm around the boy just as he straightened back up.

  “Wha—”

  “No time. Just hold tight.” She gripped his waist, then used her other hand to dance a quick pattern across her jacket.

  There was a popping noise, and a bright green spark shot off towards the river.

  Temperance cursed worse than earlier and tried again. The horse-beast appeared around the corner and let out a trumpeting cry at the sight of them. It hurled itself forward just as she completed the pattern.

  There were another series of green sparks, but this time the bottom of the jacket stretched out towards the ground. Temperance’s feet lifted off the stones, hurling her and the boy up, up, up towards the waiting cliff.

  For a brief, panicked moment, it looked as though they wouldn’t make it. Then the lip of the cliff passed them by, and Temperance found herself sprawled on green grass, the sweet smell of it thick in her nostrils, the dark ground beneath gritty as she dug her nails in deep. Never had she been so glad for the simple pleasure of solid dirt beneath her feet and an enemy far behind her.

  She rose and approached the cliff edge, while the boy lay on his back, a dull moan slipping from his lips. He didn’t appear injured, so likely the leap had just taken the fight out of him. Well, he could relax now that the worst was over.

  Down below, the horse-beast pawed the stone with an ineffectual talon, scoring several marks but doing little else. Temperance grinned.

  “How do you like them apples, you damn . . . .”

  She trailed off as the creature scored the cliffside again. This time, the talon didn’t pull away, but stuck fast in the stone. A second one followed. The horse-beast tilted back, and as their eyes met it let out a piercing scream.

  Temperance stumbled back and almost knocked the boy over as he climbed to his feet. She grabbed his hand again. “C’mon!”

  They didn’t go more than a dozen steps. Empty rolling plain greeted them, stretching away in the waning light. Not so much as a bush to hide behind for at least a good quarter mile, and Temperance didn’t have the strength to run that far.

  Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted another set of ruins like those from earlier, clutching the lip of the cliff just over the next rise. This one appeared in much better condition. Temperance could make out several window holes near the top. Above that, jagged beams of metal stuck out like broken teeth.

  Why haven’t they rusted away by now, I wonder? Temperance blinked, then shook the question away. She pulled the boy in the ruin’s direction. He followed after her, but kept glancing over his shoulder, nearly tripping in the grass as she tugged him along.

  “Hilpan velt!” he cried as they crested the hill. Temperance didn’t bother to look back. The heat on her back told her what she would see.

  They dashed through the ancient remains of a doorway. Temperance pulled the boy to the side and collapsed against a wall. Breath heaving from her chest, she tried to quiet the sounds of air whistling through clenched teeth. There was little chance the creature hadn’t seen them. She waited for the impact of it striking against the ruin.

  The attack never came. Seconds stretched into minutes, and although Temperance could hear the horse-beast thrashing about on the plain, the noises drew no closer.

  From next to her, the boy stifled a cough, then spat to one side. “Sundergotten allas brecht! What is that out there? A daemon?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Temperance hissed. “It’s not a daemon, it’s . . . it used to be my horse.”

  The fire crawling along her spine had faded now, not quite to its old warmth, but something close to it. She risked a peek through a crack in the wall.

  Rolling plains stretch away from her, the grass starting to change color as the sun edged towards the horizon. Of the horse-beast there was no sign, although something that sounded like heavy steps echoed several hills away.

  She slid back down the wall and let out a relieved breath. They had somehow given the monster the slip. Maybe it was slower at climbing than she thought, or maybe its eyesight wasn’t too good. Whatever the reason, for the moment they appeared safe.

  She glanced over and saw the boy looking at her with a strange expression. “Horse? Am I misunderstanding this word? You ride that . . . thing?”

  “He didn’t look like that before. We—” Temperance shook her head. She had no explanation to offer the poor stranger, and telling him the details of what had happened would just make him more confused. Hell, she didn’t understand the situation herself yet.

  Instead she changed the subject. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  “William.” The boy hesitated, then added, “Just William.”

  Temperance smiled at that. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she wasn’t the only one in Korvana with a troubled family history. Made sense, she supposed, the boy hiding out here in the middle of the wilderness. Not much reason for that unless there was something you were running from.

  She held out her hand. “You can call me Temperance. Just Temperance.”

  The moment stretched as William stared at her. At last he reached out and brushed her fingertips with his own. She leaned in and gripped his hand, giving it a firm shake. William sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t pull away.

  He never shaken a hand before? Temperance was growing curious. She still couldn’t quite place William’s accent, or the language he had spoken before.

  “You from Galinor?”

  William shook his head. “Isterial.”

  “Where?” Temperance frowned. She had never been good with names and places, but she was square certain she had never heard that one before.

  “Isterial. To the South.” William gestured in the general direction of the ocean, as if that explained everything.

  “There’s nothing south but open water.”

  Now it was the boy’s turn to frown. “How can you possibly believe that? Traders from Korvana have landed on our island for several years now.”

  “An island?” Temperance pondered that a moment, then shrugged. “Don’t worry yourself sick over it. If you say you’re from the South, then I believe you. Likely there was some announcement in the papers I missed. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn this Isterial of yours is the hottest gossip over in Messanai, but news takes a while to travel out here in the wilderness.”

  William eyes grew wide. “Messanai? Do you mean Messanai City?”

  They went quiet for a moment as another scream rent the air. This one sounded much further away than the first. The fire along Temperance’s spine cooled to nothing. Seemed they were safe, at least for the moment.

  When the cry faded away, she gave a nod. “Unless there’s another Messanai I don’t know about.”

  “Do you think . . . if it is not too much to ask, might you consider guiding me? I was on my way by ship, but . . . .”

  William trailed off. Temperance studied the boy in the waning light. He seemed harmless enough, but clearly there was something in his past he was running from. On any other day she would have agreed to help without a second thought, but she had more pressing concerns at the moment.

  “Even if I wanted to, as you can see I’ve got troubles of my own following me. If you stay by my side for long that beast out there will be after you as well.” The hopeful expression slipped from William’s face, and Temperance quickly added. “Tell you what, tomorrow we’ll head towards the coast and find us a road. You can follow that towards Messanai, and I’ll head the other way to draw my . . . horse off your trail. Afraid it’s about the best I can offer.”

  William looked about to say more, but Temperance held up a hand. “We’re losing daylight, and I don’t think it would be wise to start a fire. Let’s get some sleep, and we can talk this all over in the morning.”

  They settled down in opposite corners, Temperance finding a small overhang that would keep h
er dry if the night brought any rainstorms. As the last light faded to gray, she found herself staring at nothing, heart filled with fear over what a new day might bring.

  Chapter Four

  Five Years Earlier

  I buried Runner by the big oak tree this morning. That dog was at my side for seventeen years, and was a more stalwart companion than a man could ever ask for. He’s the fourth I’ve lost since leaving home all those decades ago, and in all likelihood he’ll be the last as well. My heart just can’t take the ache the way it used to.

  On days like this I can’t help but wonder at the madness of the so-called Divines. Why would they leave us creatures of such unyielding loyalty, our horses and hounds and all the others over which we hold sway, yet grant them such short spans of life? What cruel joke is it that gives a boy a faithful companion who he’ll outlive by a good fifty years or more?

  Madness.

  As he lay breathing his last, Runner asked if I thought he had been a good boy. What else could I say but yes? He deserved some last shred of joy before departing this mortal coil.

  I couldn’t tell him the truth in my heart, even while his wagging tail slowed and the life fled his eyes at last. No, better to lie than tell him he was leaving me alone once more. That loyal and true as he has been all these years, this final act was the ultimate betrayal.

  In the end, everyone abandons us, through their choices or failures or no damn fault of anyone but the gods. Even our familiars.

  Especially our familiars.

  Temperance set down her grandfather’s journal and sighed. That entry had been made two years ago by her reckoning. She still remembered the black mood that followed the Brimstone about like a storm cloud for weeks. The memories of her training during that time still made her wince.

  Interesting, the perspective that a little time brought with it. Over the cold winter months Temperance had read this passage more times than she could count, and it never failed to bring her some measure of comfort. Not the words in themselves, perhaps, but the feeling of her grandfather’s loss and frustration that bled through the pages. It was like a shared experience between them now, a pain with which she could sympathize during Highwinter’s ebb when all she had were her own thoughts and the droning snores of a horse for companionship.