As was the case with the drones, much of the gadgetry appeared to be offworld tech, some blend of magic and machine that had a simple, effective, artistic elegance to its design that made me consider its efficacy even more.
This was one nest better left undisturbed.
There were also horses, cattle, sheep, and other more exotic animals scattered in parcels away from the main settlement between and below the spaces occupied by the lueffa.
Given all I had seen in my brief approach, Sky’s End was the largest operation for many leagues.
And that included the welcoming village of Ghost’s Gulch.
I imagined it was probably the only outfit of its kind in the entirety of the Wastes.
Nudging Smoky downward, following the drones’ lead, we descended in lazy spirals toward the ranch’s central building, the spoke around which the rest of the operation rotated.
Unlike most of the other buildings I had seen, this building was translucent, its interior at least partially visible through the shifting surface. What I could see inside was muffled by the constant motion of the building itself and the play of light upon its surface. Doing my best to maintain focus on a single point inside was like trying to look through water beneath shifting waves, another rarity almost unheard of within the Wastes.
Unlike its surroundings, the interior appeared to be lush and green, an oasis held within a fragile, fluid shell that seemed ready to blow away into the distance, leaving its contents to dry out and return to dust.
Unless the profusion inside had been aided by magic, the structure itself appeared to have been in place for a long time.
* * *
Smoky landed in a dust storm of his own creation, the heart of a tempest orbited by the implied fury of the drones.
Into this gale strode a woman tall and lithe, with the grace and composure of a predator, completely in control of her surroundings. If she was not a ja’lel, then she should have been one.
Despite her stillness, she was more the center of the moment than the ferocity of Smoky’s landing.
The wind and dust did not touch her.
Her hat did not even budge from her tumbling red hair.
If anything here was magic, it was that.
I tipped my hat in respect as I jumped off Smoky’s back. Patting him gently on the neck, I whispered, “I’ll whistle when I need you.”
Glad to be free of the formalities, Smoky leapt skyward trailed by a cloud of drones until he reached the ranch’s perimeter.
“You must be Koren D’uene. Talen spoke highly of you.”
I gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.
And noted the past tense.
“Welcome to Sky’s End. I am Leila Tavers, and this is my ranch.”
Another Day on the Trail
Leila smiled as I sent Smoky back to the skies.
“Why don't you come in and I’ll tell you what I know.”
She turned away from me fearlessly, either supremely confident in her abilities or surmising that I was not a threat.
I appreciated the gesture.
And the sentiment.
As I walked behind her, I took the opportunity to study her weapons.
They were exquisite.
The twin six-guns at her sides glowed like matching suns. If they were not fueled by her magic, they had powerful enchantments of their own. The handles and leather holsters were ornately styled with elaborate scrollwork, the sigils adding layer upon layer of indecipherable arcana.
I listened to her words as my eyes read the elaborate tale told by her guns.
She bore proud weapons that had played decisive roles in many conflicts. They were used to enact justice and maintain safety in a world filled with uncertainty and tribulations.
There was far more to be told than I had time to read.
As an avid reader, I was disappointed that I might not get the chance.
She ducked slightly as she pulled back the building’s fabric entry, holding the way open for me as I followed.
The door sealed neatly behind me as I let it fall to the ground.
She spoke over her shoulder as we walked through the surprisingly lush vegetation, skirting plantings and recessed areas divided by plantings that were filled with neatly arranged furniture. “Talen was the first. He disappeared while corralling lueffa on the outer steppes.”
The building’s interior looked more like a conservatory or herbarium than a tent in the middle of the desert. Carpets covered the floor in vivid patterns and colors.
It was far larger on the inside than it had any right to be.
Leila finally settled down in a cushioned wicker chair and indicated I should take a matching seat opposite her.
“We sent a party out looking for him and saw no signs of foul play or a struggle. The hoofprints of his horse had disappeared.
“He was too skilled to vanish without a fight, unless it was by Craft…his or another’s.”
She paused a moment reflectively, her eyes looking back in time. “If it were anyone other than Talen, I might have thought they had just abandoned their post. Others might, but not Talen. He was far too true.”
I nodded. “He gave his life to his work and would have it no other way.”
Her somber half-smile was all the agreement I needed.
With this confirmation, the world crumbled beneath me, a shattered illusion never to be reformed. My past plummeted downward, a part of me never to be recaptured. I was split in two, the person I had been falling away from who I was.
* * *
Cold, heartless, and untouched, the ja'lel in me watched dispassionately as my self dissolved into nothingness, who I was, who I had been, cast into oblivion.
The guns at my sides were now who I was and who I would become.
Leila’s words reached out to me from another world. “When the team came back with no news, I ordered them back to stay until they found something out.”
Her gaze turned bitter with remembrance. “This group did not come back. Good men gone.
“This time, we found signs of a struggle when we investigated.
“Blood and ash. Melted stone. Rent earth.
“Marks of warning and terror.
“The work of a rogue dragon.
“I had already caused enough strife. I would not risk more.
“I ordered our teams in, our herds brought back to shelter.
“That is when the true depredations began.”
Leila made a brief gesture and a visual representation of Sky’s End appeared in the space between us.
The ranch was there in all its glory, from billowing buildings to assorted pens and animal herds.
“This is a current view of the ranch.
“Everything is as expected...thankfully.”
The images shifted, growing darker, moving from the full light of day to the half-shadows of dusk. The ranch was just as active as the prior live imagery, only without as much light. Ranch hands were busy finishing up after a long day of chores. Men and women were moving between various outbuildings as the day’s work settled down into evening’s repose. Despite the slowing of the day’s tempo, the ranch’s armaments were still actively patrolling the ground and sky. The shadows of the rare, tremulous clouds overhead slipped across the environs in liquid patches.
One of these shadows moved counter to the wind.
The dragon commanded the skies even when reflected on the ground.
Fierce, red, and more fiery than the sun, the dragon carefully skirted the ranch’s periphery, gauging its defenses, a shark circling prey in search of weakness, seeking blood.
This thing, a deadly blend of cunning and implacable power, had killed my brother.
“The dragon has been testing us since we lost our last group and retreated back to the ranch.
“I don't know how much more time will pass before it attacks.
“We need to strike first.
“Although the ranch may appear calm and well-organiz
ed, we have lost about a third of our herd and even more of our men.”
Her eyes were hard, full of threat and fire.
“The fire drake has not risked an attack directly on the ranch—our defenses are too formidable—but it eagerly picks off any who venture into its territory to the west.”
Before she could add anything more, I broke in firmly, her fire becoming my own. “What would you have me do?”
Heart’s Fire
She shook her head slightly, trying to wring it of inner turmoil, of doubt. “If the dragon had just staked its territory, if it had just warned us off, I would have left well enough alone.
“Dragons have a right to their land, just like any other.
“I can respect that. There’s enough hardship out here without causing more.
“But it didn’t.
“It took our rights as its own.
“And crushed them.
“We can’t have that.
“We can’t abide that.”
She looked me right in the eyes then, her fiery green eyes harder than the steel she carried slung at her waist. “I’m organizing a posse to hunt the dragon down and bring it to justice.
“If it were a man, I’d say we could bring him to the local magistrate, but it would take an army to bring a mature dragon in.
“You’re welcome to join. The group will be strictly voluntary. Any who ride will take their fair share of the spoils.
“We need good men to make this happen.
“Talen told me you were the best.”
I kept my face flat.
My brother would say that.
Unlike me, he could not see the evil in men’s hearts.
Especially my own.
He did not see what I was capable of. What I did.
He saw the good when oftentimes I was the bad.
I was evil for a good cause.
Untouchable, without morals, scruples, or pity.
I was my brother’s opposite.
There was a reason Talen had never become a ja’lel. Though Talen could kill with the best of us, he chose not to.
Now he was gone and I, his pale shadow, was all that remained.
“I will help you kill the dragon.
“But I want none of its ill-gotten gains.”
She pursed her lips, expecting nothing less.
* * *
Eternities passed in seconds as we sat, I suffering through the wreckage of my world, she considering how to rebuild hers.
Finally, days…weeks, seconds…hours later, she stood with finality and said, “You are welcome to stay here until the others arrive.
“We will begin within a week.”
I stood, shadowing her, and gave a short nod.
“I’ll stay on the range.
“When the time comes, I’ll be here.”
She did not ask how I would know when to come.
Perhaps she knew more of gun knights than I had initially thought.
We always sensed the coming of violence.
Reconnaissance
I walked into the desert alone, the activity of Sky’s End fading as I walked out into the scrub and dust.
The dry soil crunched beneath my feet, resisting my weight only briefly before crumbling to powder.
This was not the first time I had walked out into the desert alone, nor would it be my last. Today, however, was not one for solitude. While Leila gathered her posse, I would see what the future held.
I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled, the sound the high-pitched trill of a hunter, a bird of prey screeching in triumph before it plummeted in for the kill.
I did not choose this whistle for the elemental feelings it invoked or the rush of adrenaline that such a call might bring. My choice was practical. The hunter’s call carried far and wide, its sound as clear and unmistakable as the peal of a bell. Augmented by a small bit of magic, the whistle carried to the ears of my target as undeniably as a bolt of lightning.
Smoky did not take long in returning, a bolt from the heavens himself.
I stood amongst the withered bushes beyond the ranch’s outskirts, waiting.
When Smoky finally glided downward to land in front of me as gently as the caress of a feather on quilted down, his muzzle was still covered in the blood of his most recent kill.
“I hope I didn’t take you from something important.
“Or particularly pleasant.”
His dismissive, whinnied response let me know that he was done. I had called just as he was savoring the last bits.
I did not ask what those last bits were.
Some things are better left to the imagination.
Other things are simply better left.
I jumped up onto his back and nudged him westward over and around the ranch as we took off.
“We’re off to get the lay of the land.
“There’s a posse forming to hunt down a dragon.
“If we’re going with them, I’d like to know what we’re getting into before we traipse off into the wilderness to face an ancient wyrm.”
Smoky’s short snort told me he agreed.
And cautioned that we not needlessly risk lives.
Smoky’s logic was hard to argue against.
Which was exactly why we were heading out to the western Wastes to investigate further.
At first, the land was as open as the sky, largely unbroken by hill or valley. As our flight took us farther westward, however, the landscape changed dramatically.
A region of vast plateaus bordering eroded riverine valleys became and more prominent, the land broken apart into fractured pieces like shards of pottery dropped but never remade into a cohesive whole.
Far below Smoky’s beating wings, there was even a shimmering thread of water winding its way across the scorched earth, a strand yet unbroken by the heat and desolation.
Based on Leila’s descriptions, this region marked the western boundary of Sky’s End and the heart of the lueffa’s native range.
Past the cracked earth and tired buttes, massive volcanic mountains loomed on the hazy horizon, belching occasional smoke and ash. We flew toward these obsidian peaks, their glassy black summits glimmering with reflected sunlight—frozen molten rock slowly melting beneath the volcanos’ terrific heat.
If ever I had seen a mountain range that was home to dragons, this was it.
A Man and His Bullets
Father stood with me inside the bailey, tall, protective outer stone walls on one side and the keep proper on the other.
His large hand rested on my shoulder, long fingers folded around my chest and back. “We’re going outside and I’m going to let you use my guns.”
I could barely contain my excitement. It was a rare day that Father let me hold his sidearms, the storied guns of our line.
A deep blue sky arched overhead so bright that I had to shield my eyes even though I was not looking at the sun. I had to resist the urge to start naming the shapes that sprang to mind as I squinted upward.
I needed to focus and show Father that I warranted his trust.
We walked outside the castle together, Father’s hand still on my shoulder, his revolvers brighter than the sky above.
“Your aim is true. I am proud of your unity with the gun.”
I beamed.
In that moment I think my smile burned brighter than my father’s guns.
“But today we will work on what you shoot, not how you shoot.”
I was excited. Any new lesson was a fresh challenge, another way to show Father I was worthy of his trust.
“Your spellcasting has been coming along quite nicely as well.”
I loved learning magic but was nowhere near as adept at spellcasting as I was at firing the gun.
I had been shooting far longer than I had been casting proficiently. Magic required a degree of learning that grew gradually over a long period of time and typically progressed at a much slower pace than other areas of knowledge.
We reach
ed the target range, home to so many of our lessons.
My father’s imperturbable gaze took me in. “When a man takes a gun, he shoots bullets.
“When a spellslinger takes a gun, he shoots magic.
“There is no need for bullets, just will and the vision to use it.
“Today, you are going to channel magic through your guns.”
Father handed me his guns and I began to fire.
* * *
I had a few magical items of note—the storied guns of my fathers, Eiŕ and Eiŕ’hod, my bottomless satchel, my boots for striding, and my bulletproof breeches and vest among them—but the most important was my broad-brimmed hat.
One can never underestimate the value of a good hat.
A good hat does more than let you see in the sun and keep your head dry.
A good hat is more than a stylish accent to your attire.
A good hat can keep you alive.
The right hat can keep your head warm when otherwise you could succumb to cold.
The proper hat can protect you from exposure and the risks of overheating.
A reliable hat can protect you from illness brought on by excessive chill, temperature change, and moisture.
A well-chosen hat can make you stand out or disappear in a crowd…or both.
A well-made hat can cushion and guard your head from unexpected blows and impacts.
Weatherproof, damage resistant, and self-repairing, my hat allowed me to see the world, meet its threats and challenges, and rise to them.
And it was enchanted to never blow off my head.
Which was helpful when flying amongst the clouds with the beating wings of a dragon steed at my back.
Especially while being chased by a dragon.
Which I could see exploding from the top of a nearby mesa with the help of the shade from my hat.
Ducking and Weaving
“Take us down, Smoky!”
My reconnaissance trip had gone a bit too far.
The dragon had timed its attack almost perfectly, leaping out toward us just as we crossed into its line of sight.
Spellslinger--Legends of the Wild, Weird West Page 3
