For The Drop Of Blood Ch.5
For The Drop Of Blood by DavidTFayl
7 0 0
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.
PreviousNext

FIRE IN THE DESERT

 

I glanced toward the wards, the corpse started to dissolve already. That's why I preferred to kill creatures from other planes, with no messy corpse disposal. Despite its size by the morning, there will be just the stain there. Sun will take care of the rest. I slowly walked toward the fire while replacing all bullets with mundanes. Silver was expensive. As I arrived and reholstered my weapons I looked up to see who was suicidal enough to take this job.
 
All in all, there were eight people me not counted, but they were broken up into smaller groups. All but one stood up as I approached. A huge man, with at least some indigenous blood, stood with the polar opposite, pale as snow, with green eyes, and dressed as if he was going to a fancy party. Well except for two low-hanging revolvers with ivory handles. Two slightly separated from them were unmistakably related, brother and sister at first sight. Both had fiery red hair, hers was tied in a tall ponytail, and even that way it fell well below her shoulders, she wasn't beautiful but attractive in a way that was hard to describe, as an unorthodox tune that you'll hardly ever whistle while you're doing some chores, but still will listen to it from beginning to end every chance you get. Sometimes even pay traveling musicians to play it for you, yet you'd find it hard to explain what you find so mesmerizing about it. Ponytail exposed her ears, they lacked the edge of a true Elf but were pointed. That was a slight surprise, Half-Elves were rare this far south, and their main hangouts were really far north, I'd say from Pennsylvania to Main you'd find more than 70% of them. Virginia was about as South as I'd expected them. We were somewhere far West of Arkansas Territory, maybe even reaching into so-called Unorganized Territories, so fair bet Souther than Virginia. She had no weapons I could see, so I did something I rarely do. I touched our minds briefly. That was a somewhat antiquated way of greeting between those with Arts, most akin to a handshake. One side reaches through the Aether and announces his presence to the other side, which would be extending the hand, now it would be up to the other side to respond for the greetings were completed. A slight smile quirked her left lip and she reciprocated. There is no exchange of information in it, again, same as you can learn a great deal about a person with a just handshake, a great deal can be learned about the user of Arts with touching of minds. That was mainly why it was going out of style. As the Arts got more and more refined, people were more and more protective of them. So this was already showing, at least, she was willing to work together. Also, she was either really powerful or domineering, because she did that thing when someone squeezes your hand, accidentally or on purpose, remains to be seen, too hard. Maybe she just wanted to conduct a test of her own, because of course, I did not initiate the process out of my love for dying procedures, I wanted the info, and she obliged. Maybe she wanted info in turn, fair enough. She showed me courtesy, it would be rude not to return it. I raised my output until we matched exactly. She smiled again and it was done. The exchange lasted barely a second and only Arts users would even notice, and only if they were paying attention. When I looked at the male pair of the duo it was hard to notice a large age difference. Both were in their mid-twenties but who was older was anyone's guess. His hair was shoulder length and both were dressed as natives in leather pants and jackets with moccasins. Likely handmade. Unlike her, he was armed, but with weapons that slowly were transitioning from old to obsolete. For a hunter I guess it did not matter that the long gun was a single shot, but the rifled muzzleloader was about 30 years out of style and looked older than that by several decades. With his sister's enchanting balls, I was sure for hunting was perfectly adequate, especially since it was obviously custom-made, or customized later. Most of the musket was French Charleville, with Springfield 1795 barrel although messed with to the point it was barely the same, for starters, already long barreled itself, on this one it was added some three inches, and as the cherry on top instead .69 caliber, it was made to shoot classic British .75 caliber. This maybe was been the reason for lengthening the barrel, to achieve comparable distance and precision as its smaller cousin. Again, as a hunting rifle, there was little to complain about. Hell, a ball enchanted with just raw Aether could likely punch straight through the thickest part of buffalo, and the thickest part isn't what you would shoot for any way for a quick kill. But for gunfight was...not an optimal weapon, comparably his sidearm was practically modern. While still Muzzleloader at least was from this century, since they were never my cup of tea I didn't know the manufacturer but it was a solid-made Peper-box pistol, six-barrel one at the best I could see in the closed bottom holster. Still not optimal I'd prefer an even older revolver, Kit completed the old-style bandolier with 8 readied shots, 4 on one side of the leather string and 4 on the other, separated by the buttoned-up bag in the middle that held spare balls, by size about 10 of them. And lastly, gunpowder horn. The last two pieces of tool/weaponry were trapper staples. Well, at least one was, the large knife, maybe by a thumb shorter than my short sword, and the second, common but less ubiquitous, steel tomahawk. I still read stories from idiots who never faced one, describing them as hatchets, or axes. There were similarities sure, but tomahawks were so perfectly balanced to be both close range and throwing weapon that facing someone truly good with one when you are out of bullets, makes more than one man piss himself. As a close-quarter weapon even a stone version hits as the hammer, and when thrown it's nearly unblockable. Outdated for sure, but if the boy was proficient with his weapons he may live to see another day. For some reason, I hoped the same for his sister. The last member was the only one alone and away from fire. From what little I could see it was a female in the greenish cloak with two sword handles protruding above each shoulder and that was all. Trio formally in charge were in their own little group.
 
Santino looked around “O.K. now when we all are here, let's finish introductions and intel at once since I advise you get all the sleep you can before tomorrow. He points at the bear trapped in the human body, Falx, twig next to him is Gouttière, and Hammond twins Jaxon and Jannet. Mr with the dramatic entrance is Hákon. Lady in the shadows is Elunara, the only passing participant so far. Now since we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself overthinking plan is very simple. You'll rob the bank. The one in St. Joacinto to be more precise. Since it's in Mexico even if they gather the posse I doubt they will cross the border, in Unorganized Territory maybe, but sure as shit, not Arkansas Territory. There is a 30-mile run to the border North-East, and as you see an oasis you are home-free. The border should be already several miles behind you but you keep riding since even the “official” border is behind there are only a few sparse markers. Most take the oasis as the real border.”
 
Jannet's voice is calm, not scared, more matter-of-fact. Her voice is husky, like on the verge of a whisper. “That is suicide.” Her brother only nods for my side I agreed with the sentiment. Some three years ago I rode with the Dolton brothers, we scoped the place, then it was freshly built not even a year old, and it took us just one recon to nope out of there. The place was built as a bunker. Santino shrugged “I'm not here to convince anyone but explain the mission, if someone doesn't want to go I believe they can find their way home in the morning.” He grins “After they return our generous deposit of course.” Gouttière says something in French that I didn't even need to pull on my limited pool of Cajun to know it was a curse. I very much shared the sentiment.
 
I grinned “Well, I see why your recruiting drive was so successful so far. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude you were considerate enough to plan something.” There was a predatory glint in his eye as he answered “Oh, when you hear the plan you'll positively shine with happiness.” He takes the branch and draws a rough rectangle and draws a line over a third of it. Then draws a line in the middle of a large part “Entrance, there are two guards armed with rifles and revolvers in both corners. There is one more behind the counters with a shotgun. There are four tillers and all of them likely have revolvers but once guards are down I doubt they will elect to die for their measly pay. Here are stairs upstairs, one more guard on the upper floor is on the top stair with a sawed-off, and there are offices of higher-ups. Normal burglars would need them for the keys, combinations, etc.” He thinly smiles “But you are not normal burglars, are you? Any of you with powers needs a key for anything?” The silence was all the answer he needed “There, simple enough. Eliminate three guards, which with five of you shouldn't be much of an issue no? Open the door, grab what you can, and leave a simple and clean job. What is so suicidal?”
 
“What is not drawn and what is not said.” He looks at me with that hidden amusement he often displayed. “Care to elucidate for the rest of class?” I took the branch from him and drew two parallel lines next to the building “Road.” then I drew three more squares directly across the bank “Saloon, Sherif's Office, Hotel/Brothel. Both Saloon and Hotel have at least 6 perfectly placed sniper nests.” I drew two more squares at the sides of the bank “General Store and Apparel Store. That's about three years of outdated info but I heard St. Joacinto just grew since then, on account of...” I drew the largest rectangle at the end of the road 90 degrees compared to the bank. ”...Chappel of Our Bleeding Lady, Statue of Mother Mary that weeps blood every mass. I'm not particularly religious, when is the next mass?” Jannet gave a deadpan answer deciding to play along “Tomorrow.” “So three years ago it was a city of 3000, let's say luck is on our side and now is only 3500 people, and the bank is in the center of it. Most of those 3500 people will be there tomorrow to see their bleeding stone, most of them have cash in that bank and it's surrounded by businesses that 100% have a significant amount of capital tied in it. If someone hears suspicious Colibri fart from inside so many guns will be pointed our way that we'll be dead before we manage to raise our hands to surrender. And if I'm gambling man...which I happen to be I'd say you picked a Mass Day on purpose.” This time Anne answers her voice again all silk and honey, she obviously greatly enjoyed this “Would it be testing otherwise?” Santino shrugged and said probably the only thing that he knew will hook if not all of us then most of us “I could do it alone.” turned on his heel and walked toward the sleeping bag I assumed to be his.
 
I glanced at others, Jannet looked after him with open hatred, her brother, on the other hand, was a closed book, a French gunslinger never looked more as the viper his green eyes almost seeming like slits in the firelight, Falx seemed like he didn't hear a word. Anne was gone like she was never around. Siblings turned as one and went toward a larger tent erected next to some ruins. I looked at Ronald and spoke in passable Dwarven “You mentioned some rum?” He gave his characteristic jovial laughter “Your accent is shit, but at least I understand you, more than I can tell for most Humans that fancy themselves experts in Dwarven. In my tent.” he pointed at a stick driven in the ground with the tarp over it. Well...it was tent-like. “Go uncork it I'll join you just as I take care of my horse for the night.” “Don't take too long or you will have just a bottle to sniff on.” “Don't worry I saw you drink already.” He moved toward his sleeping place and I half-turned when a new voice called “Hákon.” I turned back Falx spoke for the first time “Twins have been already notified but with your delay, it can't be helped you get a private talk.” His voice was raspy and the end of every sentence was clipped like cut with a hatchet, it wasn't really an accent, more the way someone who uses words every blue moon speaks. Not really used to communicating by words at all. “For tomorrow's job, I'm the leader and Gouttière here is second in command, that stunt you pulled when you entered was good, no doubt about that. Good enough to earn you third place if you play ball.“ I looked at both of them and gave a half-shrug “O.K. whatever you say.” He apparently took insult with my tone because in a time I could blink one of the heavy forward-leaning knives he carried 4 at the at the belt was at my throat, the blade under my neck did not disturb me, but the fact I couldn't feel he could use Arts until now. Also, with speed and ease, he controlled a heavy blade, Falx was hiding a lot under that brute muscle “I don't like the way you bend so easily, it might hide betrayal in the future.” I raised my eyebrow “I just don't want to have pointless butting of heads for one day of suicidal job. If you want the responsibilities of a leader, have at it. If you think you can take Santino, Ronald, and Anne you are delusional and I'm not having anything to do with that.” Gouttière again spoke something in French, but this time I understood one word. “I never claimed I'm not a coward, what I am is survivor, and to achieve that goal there is VERY little I won't do. And those three...Let's say I know when I meet my betters.” The blade moves from my neck and goes back into the hilt. Falx looks me up and down like an insect “I was wrong about you Hákon Firehand.” The familiar silky voice speaks from shadows “But I wasn't. That's what matters” Anne materializes between two men from the shadows. By micromovement, I saw both of them try to move but were paralyzed, Falx likely under Null field too, Lamia places hands over their shoulders like in a hug. Well, until the nails on her forefingers grew into the size of mini daggers with equally sharp points touching their jugglers “You know, in my country bad children are stolen into the night never to be seen again.” I saw actual fear in Gouttières eyes, but nothing in Falxes. Anne ruffles their hair like they really are children “But they also say, everyone deserves a second chance. If you survive tomorrow. Remember that your next slip-up will be last, now go to sleep like good boys.” She melts with the shadows again Gouttière was sweating profusely but the rage radiating from Falx was so strong I felt it like a coal pressed against my skin. He growled after me “This changes nothing about tomorrow, remember that.” I allowed myself a half-smile with my back turned “Yes, boss.” I took the Girl from the watering pool and took her where I planned to sleep. When danger is in question she was as good if not better than any guard dog. I took my feeding bag and filled it with oats, there was plenty of fresh grass around, but for some reason, she liked oats since she was a yearling and I always had a few pounds on hand as a reward. And if she didn't deserve a reward for today, she never did, I remembered that last burst of speed she gave to slip the flankers for a while. I again scratched her between her ears again and with her mouth deep in the bag she just leaned her head against my shoulder for a few seconds. The voice came from behind my back “Your heart rate never raised.” I turned and faced Anne “Why should it?” “That's what happens when Humans are scared, both breathing and heart rate raise. You weren't scared of them, just placating their ego. Why?” I paused thinking of what should I say “You are thinking about whether will you lie to me.” “Yes.” “Will you?” I thought for another second “No.” She tilted her head “Why not?” “I won't die tomorrow, we need to learn to trust each other to a point.” Now she made a pause “True. To a point. So why you weren't scared?” I smiled “Because I knew you were there.” I admit I took pleasure in the brief shock on her face. Her eyes narrowed in suspicious slits, she looked like a cat ready to scratch on a first provocation. “How? I know Art users can't feel me” I touched my nose and smiled “You should control your temper better, the first night we met when you exited my room through the window I couldn't see a thing but you had to pass in front of me, all I felt is the scent of lilies. I do have a rather well-developed sense of smell for a Human. I first slightly but the longer you stayed circling us I smelled lilies again.” I gestured at the small patch of green in this oasis and the barren desert behind it “Do you see lilies anywhere?” “You revealed your only trump card?” I gave another half shrug “It would appear so. It's kinda how building trust goes.” Oddly she smiled in an almost Human way and made a small bow touching her forehead, heart, and belly “And in return, I vow not to harm you or anyone dear to you for a year.” I couldn't help but grin “Entire year. Such generosity.” Surprisingly she grinned back “As you said, building trust is a process, besides I'm a lady. Choosing another scent takes time.” I bowed “Well m'lady I know Dwarf who is cursing my ancestors for making him wait, so I must leave you.” “Sekmeth curse me for keeping you from such important business.” And she was gone, again leaving just a smell of lilies in the air. I bid the last farewell to the Girl. and moved toward Ronald's tent path led me closer to the only survivor so far and I paused looking down at her cloaked figure. She looked up, and even with a hood up I recognized Elven features, slightly slanted eyes, and beauty. For some reason every Elf is pretty. Even Half-Elves carry that ethereal part with them, albeit in a smaller dose. “Yes?” Her voice was like a wind chime, there was an accent there but one word couldn't pull it out. “Did you abstain from joining the company because you don't want to know anything about the walking dead or you just like to be alone?” She gave a small chuckle “A bit of both honestly.” Irish accent, and heavy one, she couldn't be across the pond for more than a few years. “Mind a question?” She shook her head, and motion released a lock of heavy red hair, If the Hammond twins had the color of a sunset, this was the color of living burning coal she removed the lock with a small finger. She still looked up waiting for a question. “How did you survive?” She again smiled “Easy. I wasn't greedy. Remember that for tomorrow and luck might be on your side too.” I looked down and thoughts began forming in my head. “Thank you.” She nodded and returned to her previous position indicating conversation is over.
 
I finally reached Ronald's “tent” he was puffing on his pipe with an unopened bottle next to him. “You waited for me, I'm touched.” I sat next to Dwarf, He grumbled a bit while opening the bottle “I just don't like drinking alone.” He takes a gigantic swig before passing the bottle to me. I was never a rum lover, too much sugar, but damn me this almost converted me. He wasn't kidding when he said he found “good stuff” I huffed the air from my lungs that burned like fire “Wow, this, is something, I don't know what, but something.” His grumpiness dissipated “Told ya. I paid a small fortune for it but I knew it was the right stuff.” He took another swig. “25 years aged as Gods ordained, and then properly sealed. Patience, booze is all about patience. As so many things in life.” hard to argue with such wisdom I took another swig and looked at the sky. In spite of where we were sky was perfectly clear, and since the buzz started to catch me they twinkled extra hard. “So those two asses are not coming back tomorrow?” I glanced at him he was also looking at the sky. “Who knows, you guys put us in quite a pickle, dangerous job.” Dwarf snorted “Boy, you know well what I'm talking about.” “Will you mourn them?” “I mourn my bowel movements more, at least I know they were decent food before.” I took another swig and touched the place where Falx placed his blade. “Well, I don't know how tomorrow will go, but I have a feeling they enjoyed their last sunset.” Then I passed the bottle Ronald emptied his pipe before taking it “Good.”
0