by F J Blair
Benjamin stared at her, eyes afire, as if daring to try her luck again. Temperance gripped the knife tighter and took a step forward.
“Temperance, don’t!” William grabbed at the back of her shirt. She managed to shrug out of his grip and kept walking. Benjamin held her gaze as she came to stand over him.
“Put me in the dirt, will you?” Temperance reached down and hauled the farmer to his feet. He still weighed far more than her even after wandering through the wilderness, and she almost blacked out from the effort. “Dying is easy, Mister Dunpeal. It’s the living part that’s hard.”
The knife flashed, and the rope binding Mister Dunpeal fell to the ground in pieces. Benjamin looked at his hands, only to stumble and fall as Temperance’s boot connected with his backside.
She spun about as the farmer picked himself up. “C’mon William, let’s get riding, it’s past time we were on the move again.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?” Benjamin called after her. “This is all your doing! You will pay for this!”
Temperance didn’t bother to look back as she swung into the saddle. “Go to Sweetwater, Mister Dunpeal. I’m sure someone there will take you in, help you get back on your feet. I’ve got a monster to kill.”
“Damn you to Hell, Whiteoak!” he called after her. “What are you hoping to find out here, anyway? There’s nothing in those mountains except rocks and death!”
William glanced back. “Are we really just leaving him here?”
“He got himself this far, he’ll manage a little further.” Turning to the farmer, Temperance gave him the hin of a smile. “Nothing but rocks and death? Fortunately for me, Mister Dunpeal, death and I are old acquaintances by now.”
She turned and set her horse to picking its way among the rubble and broken stones. Behind them Benjamin Dunpeal howled curses before descending back into the sobs of a broken man.
* * *
It was afternoon when they came across the bird face. William noticed it first, pointing high up onto the slopes of the Silverskies. There, just below the cloud line, the sheer cliff formed an image like the face of an eagle, its crooked beak a stone shelf jutting from the mountain’s face. Temperance traced a line to the land below, and noticed a break between two cliffs, just wide enough for a pair of horses to ride through.
“Well, don’t that beat all. I doubt I would have found the place on my own, even knowing where to look!”
William glanced at her. “This is rather remote, is it not?”
“That it is. Never ceases to amaze me that my grandpa found locations like this to build in the first place. Would you believe one of the cabins was on top of a plateau only reachable by climbing a sheer cliff? I still can’t figure out how he managed to get building materials up there.”
Temperance glanced over her shoulder. Standing on the hill that they had just abandoned was a lone rider, hand held aloft to block out the sun. He was too far away to tell, but she was sure that he was looking in their direction.
William noticed the man as well. “Mister Dunpeal, you think?”
“I doubt we’re that lucky. Besides, I don’t think Benjamin had a horse. No, this is probably that thrall that’s been following us. I’d stake my guns we’ll be seeing action before sunrise.”
“Then I hope that your grandfather left us sufficient weapons.”
“You and me, both.” Temperance kicked her horse and set it moving down the path. “You and me, both.”
The canyon was not long, perhaps a few hundred yards. A small creek ran down its center, likely just the start of what would turn into a torrent once the spring weather started melting the mountain snow in earnest. For now, the path was easy traveling, smoothed to perfection by centuries of flowing water.
When they stepped through to the other side, Temperance forgot all about streams and snowmelt. A verdant hillside stretched out before them, peppered with red and white spring flowers, a mountain meadow taking full advantage of the warming weather. At the hill’s peak stood an old cabin, covered in moss and twisting vines.
“C’mon, we’re almost there!” Temperance galloped up the hill, William only a breath behind her. Flowers shredded under their horse’s hooves, leaving a path of destruction across the idyllic field.
At the top of the hill Temperance leapt from the saddle. The door to the cabin was slightly askew, but she paid it no mind. Given the age of the place, she had expected it to be in even worse shape than it was. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her breath caught in her throat.
So, this is how I meet my death, is it? Suppose there are worse ways.
William came up behind, peeking over her shoulder as Temperance stood frozen in the doorway. “What is there? I cannot see.”
“Nothing.” Temperance murmured. “There’s nothing. It’s all gone.”
The cabin was a mess inside. Several pieces of furniture had been devoured by time and rot, but others appeared to have been intentionally smashed to bits, the pieces flung around the room like the toys of a petulant child. The stove in the corner had a large crack running through the center of it, and the stovepipe was missing a section, rendering it all but useless. Other than that, the cabin was empty.
Temperance found herself on her knees, despite no memory of having fallen over. She dug her nails into the rotten wood of the floor. “It’s the same as the others. There’s nothing here that can save us.”
Rocks and death, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sun had already slipped over the high walls of the canyon, leaving only an orange afterglow painting the sky. Temperance glanced at it through a broken windowpane, the cracks spiraling out of the glass fracturing the colors a hundredfold.
If this cabin had been built by anyone but my grandpa, I’d probably find that glass to be a first-rate miracle. Knowing him, he probably just magicked it up on the spot. Hell, maybe that’s how he built all of these cabins. Pulled them out of some giant sack the way William does his enchanted trinkets.
She glanced over at the boy, who even now was staring at something that resembled a child’s ball, but made of the purest gold. He frowned and gave the ball a shake. A moment later, warm light chased away the cabin’s growing shadows, all the charm of a campfire but without the accompanying smoke.
Temperance shivered. None of the accompanying warmth, either. There are some advantages to doing things the old-fashioned way, I suppose.
“You sure you don’t have anything else that might help us?” she asked, not for the first time since they had arrived at the cabin. William shook his head.
“Besides my hammer, and that infernal sword, there is little that anyone would consider as a weapon. I have a stick that makes food cold when kept near it, a glove that grants its wearer strength at the cost of their speed, several cups that glow if their contents contain any poisons, a pair of dice for . . . .”
The boy continued listing his bag’s contents, but Temperance stopped paying attention. They had gone over them a dozen times, hoping that one of them might be used to lay a trap of some sort. Perhaps not enough to stop an upyr and his army of enthralled bandits, but enough to buy them a few more minutes.
She leaned her head back against a bed frame and considered their options. They had pushed all the broken furniture against the door and windows, but it wouldn’t take much for someone to get past it. If they had more weapons, such deterrents would be an entirely different matter, but three bullets and a knife were a poor defense by any measure. She didn’t doubt for a second that her grandfather would have come up with a way out of this situation with only those limited resources. Sadly, she had none of his creativity, nor his skill for improvisation.
“Temperance.” William’s voice cut into her thoughts. She wondered how many times he had spoken before she noticed. “It is time we discuss what comes next.”
“What do you mean? Bandits come, we fight. Simple.”
“I think we both know that there will not
be much fighting. Even for someone as skilled as you.”
She winced. “Fine. Maybe it’ll be a short fight, but a fight nonetheless. I can take out two of them with the revolver, if I’m lucky.”
“And then you will do what I ask?”
“That’s what the third bullet is for.” Temperance glanced down at the gun in her lap. It was nowhere near as elegant as the pair her grandfather had owned. No metal polished to a shine after years of care. No walnut handles that were smooth to the touch. Instead, it was a simple piece, made as cheaply as possible and sold for the lowest price, that was plain enough just looking at it. Still, it would do the job.
She glanced back up at William. “I won’t break that promise. I may have failed here, but I won’t fail in that.”
“What about yourself? If Lucius gets ahold of you—”
“He won’t.” Temperance patted her side. “Dunpeal’s knife will see to that. With luck I can poke a few people with it before it comes to that, though.”
They lapsed into silence again. The orange glow in the sky faded to nothing. Temperance took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be long now.
“So this is it.” William’s voice was almost a whisper.
“This is it.” Temperance echoed. She thought about offering some words of comfort. Try to soften the inevitable. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, not when they were both staring down the barrel of the gun, waiting for the pull of the trigger.
“It feels strange. I should be scared right now, but cannot bring myself to feel it. As if I am watching from outside, and this is all happening to someone else.”
“That’s a common feeling. Plenty of people go through it when the end looms. The body has to find a way to manage, right up until the very last moment.”
“I have never really thought about dying before. I mean, I have thought about it. Death is everywhere in Isterial. Any citizen is only a summons away from walking into one of the clan fortresses and never returning. But it always seemed a distant problem. Not one I would ever have to worry about myself.”
“Isn’t thinking about death usually near the bottom of the list for a fifteen year old boy?”
“I am sixteen now, remember?” William said with a smirk.
“Right, of course you are. Sixteen, and with all the wisdom it brings you. Still, I imagine not thinking about dying is probably how normal people cope. It’s not healthy, to always be close to death. It does things to a person.” Temperance shifted. “Truth told, I’d have taken your childhood in a heartbeat, upyr and all. At least you had your family around you. People that watched out for each other. Loved each other. Would have made the terror waiting for you outside a bit more bearable, I reckon.”
William glanced up at her. “You do not have any family? But your grandfather—”
“What exactly did the Dunpeals tell you about me?”
“Just that your family was a legend here in Korvana. That your grandfather almost single-handedly pushed back the daemon threat, making these lands safe for all, before retiring to live a life of peace.”
Temperance snorted. She found herself unable to hold in a sudden fit of laughter. “That’s what they told you, huh? That my grandpa hung up his guns, and all those enemies he made from years of fighting just forgot about him, is that it?”
“Did they not?”
“No, they most certainly did not. See, the problem with the life that he led, the life that I lead, is that it catches up with you, eventually. One conflict begets another, and another, until we get to me, alone in the world failing to fix the problems that someone with more skill and knowledge than I’ll ever possess helped to create.” Temperance clenched her fists and looked away. “Sometimes it feels like all I’ve ever been is a failure. I failed to keep the Dunpeals safe, I failed to defeat Lucius, and I failed to avenge my family. Losing everything in the canyon should have been the final sign, but instead I’ve been forcing myself along like the stubborn fool I am. I should have just admitted defeat a long time ago.”
She sat there, staring at nothing in particular. A moment later a hand laid on top of her own. She glanced up at William in surprise. There was a sad smile on his face. “You are not a failure, Temperance. I would never have made it this far without your help. Even with death approaching, I would not have traded these extra days for anything in the world.”
There was a rumbling noise outside. Both of them looked towards the window, but it had grown too dark to see. William glanced at her. “I suppose it is too much to hope that is just a wild animal?”
“If it is an animal, it’s a dang big one.” Temperance tapped her chin and tried to smile. “Perhaps my horse finally caught up with us. It has been several days since we lost our stones.”
A pang of guilt pierced her heart at the mention of Astor. Just another example of her failures, but one she would never have a chance to rectify now.
William set his bag aside and picked up his hammer. “I think I would welcome even your horse right now. Perhaps he would attack the thralls and save us the trouble.”
“Somehow I don’t think we’ll be lucky a second time, in that regard.” Temperance shook her head. “Besides, if that beast showed up right now, it would still be the end of us. Nowhere to run, and the walls of this cabin wouldn’t keep him at bay for more than a few minutes.”
William gave the cabin wall a light tap. “I do not know, they seem strong to me. Perhaps it would not be able to get inside.”
“Don’t go fooling yourself. This place may look solid enough, but you’d be surprised how easily it can get knocked over. I once spent several weeks alone in a cabin just like this until a—”
Temperance froze. She looked about the cabin, suddenly seeing it with new eyes, aglow with golden light. It took a moment to search her memories, but once she found what she was looking for, it was difficult to believe she hadn’t noticed sooner.
Two windows over there, door behind me and slightly to the right. Stove in the corner. She jumped up, ignoring William’s confused questions, and started pacing the room. Years had passed and her legs had grown in the intervening time, yet when she reached the other side, the count stood the same—that same number that had burned into her skull just as the fever had burned away at her body—five strides from one wall to the next.
Hell and hellfire, it’s the same cabin as Martin’s! Or at least, the same design. His retreat must have been another one of my Grandpa’s abandoned outposts. Which means, if everything else is the same, then . . . .
Temperance dropped to her hands and knees in the center of the room and began feeling about. “Come here and hold your glowball up. I need more light.”
“You mean my bauble?” William lifted the ball and held it above Temperance’s head. She felt along the floor, trying to find a line or crack. After having resigned herself to death, the sudden ray of hope left her heart pounding wildly, sweat pouring down her face to stain her clothes. From outside came several loud shouts.
Please, let there be something! All my failures, all my mistakes, they led me to this moment. Don’t let me be wrong about this too. Don’t let—
Her hands found a slight gap in the boards where none should have been. With growing excitement, Temperance dug in her nails and pulled. The wood gave a groan, splinters cutting into her fingers. She ignored the pain and pulled harder.
With another groan the board sprang away, the air filling with dust built up over decades. Temperance waved it away, tossed the board to one side, and began pulling at the next. This one came up easily.
“What is this?” William asked. Temperance ignored the question, tossed the last board aside, and stood up.
There was a small alcove beneath, just large enough to fit a man if he were curled tight. Or a young girl, perhaps no more than twelve. Unlike the alcove in Martin’s cabin, this one wasn’t empty.
It was filled with boxes. Boxes that bore labels Temperance recognized instantly.
Hexbullets.
; Elemental strikers and knockout rounds, simulacrum summons and silver spikes and two—no three—boxes of steelfire! More bullets than I can carry out of here, let alone ever fire. Her eyes quickly scanned for what might help them best at the moment. Several boxes contained bullets strong enough to wipe out the Gunpowder Gang in one hit, but Temperance didn’t trust firing them in the enclosed space of the canyon. Even steelfire might be too dangerous.
Still, there was enough here to put up a Hell of a good fight.
Temperance yanked open the first box of strikers and pulled out a handful, wincing as she remembered that she had no bandoliers or pockets to put them in. She handed several to William and opened another box. “I’ll fire, you bring me more rounds. There’s only three ways they have to get in, short of making a hole in the roof. Hopefully that will give us a fighting chance.”
The boy glanced at his hands. “These are . . . hexbullets?”
“Yep. Let’s just hope they’re enough to stop what’s coming.”
There was a sound of breaking glass. Temperance turned and saw an arm sticking through the window. It grappled about, ignoring the glass shards that sliced through skin, leaving bloody lines dripping along the cabin wall.
“It’s time.” Temperance cracked open the revolver and slid a bullet home. Five more followed faster than the eye could track. Snapping everything back into place, she aimed at the window. “Abayo!”
A thrill ran through her as lines of purple traced along the weapon’s barrel. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed that.
The bullet erupted from the gun in a shower of sparks. It struck just as the bandit squeezed his head through the window, exploding into a cloud of pink smoke. The man gave a grunt and collapsed against the frame. Before he had even gone still, other hands reached past and pulled him back out.