I winced. How did this man know about my master? “Corbrae has been dead for two years now. Why bring him into this?”
The smile on Ember’s face was almost enough to push me over the edge. Why was he so smug?
“Two years and a month,” the man said. “I should know. I’m the one who killed him.”
“Bull! There’s no way some young fool like you could draw on Corbrae and live. Even at his age, he was the fastest gun in Mariandor.” My words were pressed through gritted teeth.
The smile fell from his lips and he said in a flat tone, “I poisoned him. He took me as his apprentice, then I killed him with a few drops of Wolf’s Bane. That man sure loved his coffee, and so bitter he couldn’t taste the difference. Then when he was weak and fevered, I used an old-fashioned knife.”
“Lies! You speak nothing but lies!”
In answer, Embers pulled back the edge of his coat and revealed the handle of a mithril revolver, one of Corbrae’s.
Another gout of anger poured through my veins, but I breathed through it. The way of the gunsinger was a calm one. I was no vigilante, and if this man really killed Corbrae, then I would honor him the right way. I took a deep breath and surprised the man with a smile. Doubt painted his expression for the first time. The fool had no idea what he had done by revealing his weapons to me.
“I call thee, Knight of Old Gil, to account for offense taken. I’ll have satisfaction or death and I’ll have it now.” As I spoke, I felt the cords of ancient magic writhe in the pistols on my own hips, binding me in a promise that could not be broken.
Sheriff Embers’ face went pale, and his hand darted to unholster his gun. It remained in place, though. He strained against the bonds placed on him, and at last, he came to the conclusion that there was no way out of my challenge. By wearing the pistol of a bullet bard, he had bound himself to their honor.
After a moment, he had the dignity to answer. “I will account for offense given. Sword, saber, or pistol?”
“Pistols at twenty paces,” I said and walked out into the middle of the street.
5: “For my handling of the situation at Tombstone, I have no regrets.”
— W.B. Stapp of Dodge City
MADI
Everyone stood around, frozen in their tracks by the dramatic scene unfolding. Since when had EO turned into a western?
I thumbed the shaft of my axe. Personally, I’d have preferred all the talk to stop, so that we could kill these cabróns and move on. Alysand had needed answers, though, that much was clear, and though it’d taken long enough, he’d gotten them.
He walked out to stand in the middle of the street, no doubt exactly twenty paces away from the other man. I looked to Hana, and she gripped her sword in one of her kendo stances. She was ready, too.
The thugs that surrounded us didn’t bother me much, with the exception of the woman that was rubbing the wrist Alysand had twisted. Guns shouldn’t be allowed in this world at all. At least, that is what I had been thinking ever since having the prospect of one turned on me.
Clubs and crude swords were the weapons of choice for the rest of Embers’ crew, though, and we could handle that. I wished Tejón and Pachi were here, but we couldn’t be dependent on their help.
“Prepare yourself, young man,” Alysand said, and the man who faced him finally put his hand on his pistol.
Embers called out to the woman with the pistol, “Tracie, shoot this bastard.” She drew her weapon, but though she strained, she could not take aim at Alysand.
Alysand’s answer was measured. “No point in that, Embers. Our pistols won’t allow interference. You’ve invited this moment. Remember that.” All of the indecision and fatigue had fled the gunsinger. He stood again as the ironclad figure we had come to rely on.
Embers seemed intent on not accepting his lot, however, and he shouted a command that echoed through the streets. “Kill the other two, then. All of you, move now!”
The woman, Tracie, aimed her gun at Hana and fired. Thankfully, Hana had activated her bone armor just in time, and though the bullet took a chunk out of the breastplate, it did not penetrate. She fired three more times, until my thrown axe took her in the shoulder. It split through her collarbone and ribs. She fell, gasping for breath.
I’d taken to carrying both of my axes since acquiring dual-wielding. I reached to unfasten the second, but I had to activate Dodge to avoid an attack from one of the thugs. Wanting to know who we were fighting, I inspected the man, kicking myself for not doing so earlier.
Southern Thrall
Level 23
HP: 6115/6115
Abilities: Double Strike, Charge, Bold Shout
Nothing to write home about, but the use of the word thrall caught my attention. I remembered the quest details. Hana and I were supposed to kill or convert the Rat King’s minions. There might be an opportunity here.
The man had apparently activated Double Strike, though, because despite easily evading his first attack, the second blurred out with uncanny speed. The tip of his blade cut through the side of my armor and I winced from the pain. Nothing like a wound to the ribs to make a fight real.
Several more of the thralls came out from an alley and ran at Hana. I used Taunt and pulled their attention, then buffed our party.
Hana was still wearing her bone armor, so she ignored the attacks of those she faced, and in a few seconds, she’d dropped them both. I wished I had time to watch her
