The Tower of Endless Worlds

by Jonathan Moeller

Arran stepped out of the trees. A trio of black-uniformed soldiers stood around a goat herder’s mud-and-thatch house. The peasant, his wife, and his five children stood lined up against the wall of their house.

  “I swear it!” said the peasant, his voice a sob. “We’ve no corn. We’ve no goats. We don’t even have enough food to feed ourselves…”

  “Quiet!” said one of the gunmen, an officer’s badge on his shoulder. “Then you’ll pay your taxes in a different way. Your wife and daughters will go to the brothel.” He grinned. “As for you, we’ll sell you and your sons to the winged demons. They like to play with their food…”

  Arran pulled two stolen handguns from his belt. He leveled them and opened fire.

  The first soldier fell dead, a bullet through his head. The remaining two spun. Arran killed the second with a shot through the eyeball. The officer screamed and pointed his Kalashnikov at the children.

  “Stop!” said the officer. “Stop or I’ll kill them all.”

  Arran froze.

  The officer smirked. “So, you’re the fellow who’s been causing all the trouble with our foragers. There’s a bounty on your head, and it looks as if I’m the one who gets to collect. Drop your weapons, or else I’ll put…”

  Arran’s first shot blasted through the Kalashnikov. His second punctured the officer’s throat, and the third drove right between his eyeballs.

  ***