When we returned to the others, Skrew continued to act out the battles.
“Skrew helped big!” he said, looking to Reaver for confirmation.
She nodded and smiled, which only seemed to encourage his antics.
“Skrew knows how to shoot big, big gun! Shoot the bad guard. Then, other bad guard. Then, guard running away.” He proceeded to make energy-weapon noises. At least, I thought they were the sounds of energy weapons. They also resembled a bird being beaten against a rock. The last utterance he made, though, reminded me of a plasma weapon discharging, including the hiss of it hitting wet dirt. It was eerie how accurate the sound was. I turned to him, impressed, until I realized it had been real energy-weapon fire.
I drew my sword, ready to lop a head off, and was surprised to see a line of armed vrak emerging from the woods. There had to be almost two dozen of them. In the center of their line sat the fattest vrak I’d ever seen. He was sitting on a kind of rickshaw. On his head was something resembling a crown, but it was made of scrap metal rather than gold.
“Drop weapons!” a guard ordered. “This here new king of Brazud! Drop weapons! Kneel to king!”
Another one already?
If the fires had gone out, the king’s body might be cold, but with all the chaos going on, I didn’t think they would have had time to elect a new king. Then I remembered what Yaltu had said. There would be a fight for power; but could someone already have reigned victorious? And could that someone truly be an overweight vrak with a scrap metal crown? He was a far cry from Demetrios, that was for sure.
Still, I didn’t understand much about monarchies. Kings weren’t elected. They didn’t have a run-up, with debates, endless media coverage, or rallies. They just assumed power and poof, they were king.
While having a ruler could stabilize a population and give everyone rules to live by, I had no doubt that if the fat vrak was left unchecked, he’d turn out to be another Demetrios. Well, maybe nowhere near as powerful, but still a real asshole.
The last thing the people of Brazud needed was another cruel dictator. It was time to put the vrak in his place.
“King has come for the Jacob!” said the vrak guard. “Wishes for the Jacob to kneel and serve him!”
He knew my name? It seemed my antics in the arena and the rest of Brazud had drawn the new king’s attention.
Skrew gasped and looked to me. I shook my head curtly, but he turned away and started to move as if he was going to kneel. I didn’t blame him. Not with 20 energy weapons pointed in his direction.
Reaver glanced at me. The confusion on her face told me loud and clear what she was thinking. Is this idiot for real?
Beatrix, however, outright laughed, then snorted, then laughed at her snort. She wasn’t worried at all. The fingers on her right hand flexed and relaxed. She was ready to smash heads with her glowing hammer.
Yaltu remained silent, her face blank. If she was worried, she didn’t show it.
I didn’t have time for nonsense. I needed to get the ones I cared for out of harm’s way. And I couldn’t leave Brazud in the hands of another wicked ruler, even if he was too round to do anything himself. He could, and likely would, order others to do the dirty work while he basked in his own glory.
No, I decided, this ends now. But I don’t have to kill him.
I quickly formed a plan and proceeded to execute it.
“Sierra,” I whispered to Reaver.
She looked down at her scepter and frowned. She was probably wondering how she’d accomplish such a feat with her new weapon. But then, she looked up to me, nodded, and slowly pulled it out of her waistband without deploying the blades. She didn’t want to activate the weapons and scare the enemy into firing. It wasn’t ideal, but she could still use the two-and-a-half-foot silver scepter to inflict some blunt-force trauma.
Beatrix’s crackling hammer drew my attention.
“Try not to kill them,” I whispered from the corner of my mouth. “I have a plan.”
I heard a click, and the crackling stopped. Her weapon would be far more effective as a blunt instrument than Reaver’s, but she’d also have to concentrate harder to avoid killing any of the guards. If they all lived, the chances of my plan working would improve. For each that died, the chances diminished.
“How about you drop your weapons!” I yelled at the vrak guards.
They glanced at each other, confused expressions under their simple helmets. Obviously, they’d expected to be obeyed, yet two humans, a woman with tentacles for hair, a fellow vrak, and a human-like lizard-woman were just standing there, not kneeling and not trying to run away. It seemed to drain the bravado right out of them.
“No!” a guard said. “King say you drop weapons. Do, or get many shot!”
“No,” I said.
The guard’s expression became befuddled, and he shuffled sideways from his position near the left end of the line to the fat vrak in the rickshaw. They whispered for a moment before the guard turned back to us. He stepped forward and covered half the 15-yard distance between us, a grim look on his face. Then, he opened his mouth to speak, his rifle raised in my direction.
Clang!
A rock about the size of my fist bounced off his helmet. The guard crumpled to the ground like a canvas sack filled with rocks.
“He’ll live,” Reaver said with a wicked grin.
And the fight was on.
Two guards targeted me, but I already had Ebon out of its scabbard. Energy blasts hit the blade and vanished. If the guards noticed or were surprised, they didn’t show it. Instead, they kept firing.
I closed the distance quickly, and as I did, their eyes grew bigger and bigger. When I was close enough, I smacked the first one on
