The Bloody Frontier (Pistols and Pyramids Omnibus Book 1)

by Jim Johnson

  "How about to the count of a hundred? A slow count. Or until you see something important enough to come back and tell me."

  She nodded again. "All right. How do you want to handle the guards?"

  "While you're out scouting, I'm gonna talk to your fellow villagers here and ask them to help me rush the guards after you come back. I figure the lot of us working together should be able to wrest the guns out of their hands and then raise a fuss."

  "And while you're raising a fuss, the rest of us run for the trees?"

  "Something like that. Depends on how many guards are out there...and how many of those...unliving things there are." He rested his hand on hers. "If you're able to, try to get a count of how many of each are out there. It'll help me figure out whether it'll be better to run, or stand and fight."

  At his last comment, her breath caught in her throat. She was sure there'd be too many of them. "If we try to fight our way out, we might all die."

  He nodded. "That's right, Ruia. And if we sit here in the wagon and let them take us to that quarry of theirs, we'll probably die too. I don't know about you, but I'd rather choose how I die if I can. If I’m gonna die tonight, it’s gonna be in the service of helping you and your people."

  Her heart skipped a beat at that. She wished she could see his face in the darkness, but it was just a dark blur. She reached up and gently pressed a palm against his cheek.

  "You're an inspiration, Ranger. Thank you." She flexed herself and got ready to drop onto the ground. "Wish me luck."

  He nodded. "May the good gods walk with you and keep you safe, Ruia. To a hundred."

  She gave him one last nod and then dropped through the gap he had created.

  Ruia tried counting in her head. She hit the ground with both sandaled feet, landing harder than she had expected. She crouched under the wagon and paused for several counts, waiting to see if anyone had heard her. Her vision adjusted to the change in light outside the wagon, and she wondered if maybe the good night-vision she always seemed to have was somehow connected to her hekau. She’d have to ask the Ranger.

  She focused on the camp again. There was no movement save for the sound of some shuffling along the perimeter beyond. Must be some of those awful creatures out there.

  She scanned the camp. The uncovered wagon with its grisly cargo was over to her left, while the other covered wagon was just ahead. Two guards chatted quietly in front of that wagon, and a quick glance showed two more standing near the back of the wagon she'd just jumped out of, sharing a smoke and passing a metal flask back and forth. Meret sat on the ground near the dying campfire, muttering to himself.

  Ruia shivered underneath the wagon. A wet chill had gotten into the air during the night. The thin dress she had on was hardly sufficient clothing.

  The uncovered wagon was about eight or nine strides from her wagon. She glanced around and then made a run for it.

  Her count got to twenty by the time she ducked under the wagon. Breathing hard but trying to be quiet, she scanned the camp from this new vantage point.

  She counted six men, including Qebsenuf, inside a large tent at the edge of camp, asleep in bedrolls or blankets. They had their weapons and other supplies stacked to one side.

  The horses were just beyond the tent, all lined up, tied to a picket line made of rope stretched across a couple stout trees. They had a little room to graze, though most of them were dozing where they stood. The tall horse Tjety had been tied to was among them, looking healthy enough.

  She had lost count, but started again at sixty, just to pick a number to go with. She hoped that Tjety and the others waited until she got back.

  Footsteps near her froze her to the ground. She stopped breathing and put her hand over her mouth to help prevent any sound from coming, but also to help break up the mist of her breath on the cold air. She realized that if she breathed too heavily, the plume of frozen air might give her away.

  The two guards from the children's wagon moved toward the tent with the sleeping bandits. They were talking in Hesso, so she pulled at her ba and felt the familiar pulse in her amulet. Their words became familiar to her once again.

  “Can’t wait to get back to the damn quarry. Betcha that cook’s got a fine breakfast laid out for us.”

  “Shit. We’ll be lucky to not become breakfast ourselves. Meret’s really fucked things up this time. When Boss Qeb has to come all the way out here to shepherd us home, I don’t expect good things when we get back.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that. Shit.”

  They trailed off as they moved out of her earshot. Guessing her count had gotten close to a hundred, and feeling like she had seen all she needed to see, she got ready to run back to the covered wagon.

  A shuffling sound in the woods nearby froze her, and then she remembered she had only counted half of their enemy. There were eleven bandits including Meret, but there were also those unliving creatures out there. She squinted into the darkness and tried to find the source of those shuffling noises in the scrub brush. The scattered moonlight filtering in through the clouds showed her possible shadows in the trees that were vaguely man-shaped, but not well enough for her to get anything resembling a reliable count.

  She sighed in frustration. There were a lot of enemies for the Ranger and her people to take on, and most of the villagers were wounded, as well. She needed to give them a better chance—if they were to rush the guards now, they’d get hurt or killed before they had the chance to fight back.

  Her mind racing, she used her vantage point to study the camp, a vague idea taking hold. Before she had a chance to second-guess herself, she ran for the picket line and hurriedly untied it, releasing the horses. She pulled the long rope out of their leads and dropped it to the ground. Most of the horses just stared at her, but the more energetic ones tossed their heads, seemed to realize they were free, and then started to wander off.

  A quick glance showed her she was as yet undetected, so she scampered over to the tent where the six bandits slept and pulled a couple of the tent spikes, collapsing one side of the tent onto their slumbering forms. She then ran as hard as she could for the covered wagon to tell the Ranger what she had done, the bandits behind her starting to react to her distraction.

  CHAPTER 17

  TJETY WATCHED RUIA DROP TO THE ground underneath the wagon. He shot a quick silent prayer to Mayat to keep an eye on the girl. She was full of surprises and he was confident he hadn’t seen the full extent.

  He started to count silently, and quietly moved toward the cluster of villagers.

  He cleared his throat then nudged the villagers to get their attention. "Listen up. I sent Ruia out to scout around a bit."

  The group of adults murmured in objection and concern. Tjety held up his good hand.

  "Quiet! We can't afford the guards hearing us. Ruia's going to look around the camp and then come back and tell us what she saw."

  One of the villagers leaned over and in a harsh whisper asked, "Why would you send her out alone, Ranger?"

  Tjety stared in his direction, unable to make out his face in the darkness. "Because she's smaller than me and was able to fit through the gap between the wagon and the canvas. She also said she's good at hiding."

  Another villager, a woman, asked, "What are we going to do?"

  "We're going to wait for Ruia to come back with her information, and then we're going to rush out of this wagon together and try to overpower the guards." He waved toward the back of the wagon. "I figure the only way out of this is to fight. Then we run for Fort Sekhmet. These bandits have friends at this quarry, and I'm willing to bet that there are enough of them that going back to the village would be a waste of time."

  An old lady cried out, "But that's our home!"

  Tjety shook his head. "Your home ain’t safe any more.” He paused, then added, “The bandits didn't leave anyone alive."

  Horrified gasps and quiet sobs answered his dire statement. Hating to add to it but knowing that they had to know the
truth, he continued. "I got to your village just as Meret and his two allies were finishing up. I killed two of them and shot Meret, but they had already killed seven of your people.”

  He got more sobs as response. Then, one of the men gripped Tjety’s good arm in his beefy hand. "Tell us what we gotta do to make these men pay for what they done."

  Tjety took that man's hand in his and squeezed it gently. "I say give them frontier justice. That's how to balance the scales."

  Some nods greeted his words then, and some sniffles and coughs. The man said, "Just tell us what to do, Ranger. We're with you."

  Tjety nodded, then realized he had lost count somewhere along the way. Running feet on the dirt sounded then, and then there was a thud underneath the wagon. Tjety got down on his knees and pressed his ear to the wooden floor of the wagon.

  "Ruia?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

  "It's me!" she replied, her voice muffled through the wood.

  "What did you see?"

  She cleared her throat. "There are eleven bandits total, including six in a tent that I just collapsed." After a pause, she whispered, "Sorry. It seemed like the right thing to do."

  Tjety stared at the floor of the wagon as a commotion started to stir in the camp, as if the girl had whacked a hornet’s nest with a stick. “Shit, girl! You were just supposed to scout around.” He had to admit he was impressed.

  Thinking fast, he got his feet under him. "Shit. This is it—no more time for talk. For your family and your friends, fight to live!" He faced down toward the floor. "Ruia! Do what you can!"

  Tjety turned toward the back of the wagon and made a run for it, some of the villagers stumbling in behind him. He hit the ground running, caught sight of Meret standing near a campfire, and rushed in a straight line toward him.

  To his credit, Meret jerked his head up at the sound of approaching footsteps, but was too slow to prevent Tjety from crashing into him, the momentum throwing both of them onto the hard dirt.

  Tjety rolled on top of Meret and wrestled with him one-handed for control of his pistol. Meret's finger convulsed on the trigger. The shot went wild, the thunderclap shaking the night.

  Some of the villagers stumbled out of the wagon and rushed the other guards. The air soon filled with shouts and gun shots. Cries rose up from the other covered wagon, and as Tjety wrestled with Meret for control of the pistol, Tjety caught sight of Ruia pulling children out of that wagon.

  Meret bit down hard on Tjety's wrist. Tjety in turn, butted Meret with the hard part of his forehead. Back and forth they traded blows, at some point getting their feet underneath them and standing. Tjety tried to take the advantage by stomping on Meret's foot, and Meret countered with a badly-aimed kick to Tjety's groin. He caught it high on his thigh, and winced at the new knot of pain blossoming on his body.

  In a surge of anger, Tjety pried the pistol out of Meret's hand, reversed the gun in his grip, and shot a hole through Meret's neck.

  Meret stumbled back, both hands pressed to his throat, gurgling blood as he went down.

  Tjety flipped the pistol around to the proper grip and finished the bandit off with a shot between the eyes. He didn't even watch Meret hit the ground. He was too busy turning to take aim at another bandit who had a rifle raised to shoot. Tjety's bullet took him full in the chest while the bandit’s own hasty rifle shot went wide.

  Another rifle shot cracked into the night, but before Tjety could take aim, several villagers overwhelmed that guard, dragging him to the ground in a swarm of flying hands, feet, and yells of vengeance.

  Tjety glanced across the camp. The men in the collapsed tent were pulling themselves together, going for weapons, and calling out to each other. And beyond them, the horses were panicking, and bolting in every which direction.

  Across the camp that had become a confused battlefield, Tjety called out. "Ruia! The horses, get to the horses!" She turned to face him, the look on her face clear that she hadn't heard him. She had a young girl in her arms and a young boy’s hand in hers.

  He ducked down next to the covered wagon and waved at her to get her attention, then pointed toward the horses. "The horses!"

  She looked in that direction and then back to him, and nodded. She yelled something into the wagon, got the two children loaded into it, and then ran at a fast crouch toward the picket line.

  Then the other bandits with their weapons joined the fray and it was all he could do to keep sane in the ensuing melee. Bullets flew every which way, plowed into the ground, the trees, the wagons, and into flesh both alive and unliving with indifferent brutality. Horses cried out and charged around the camp or away from it, adding their own confusion to the chaos.

  Tjety ducked under the closest wagon and fired his pistol until the hammer dropped on an empty shell. He shoved the pistol into his holster then reached out and grabbed a running sandal, knocking a bandit onto his back. Before the man could react, Tjety was on him. He battered the man into submission and then scrambled for that man's fallen pistol. Tjety rolled out of the way just as another bandit stabbed downward with a curved blade that looked terribly familiar.

  Tjety came out of the roll firing, and the bandit stumbled back, new holes in his chest bubbling up blood. The man sat down hard on the ground, staring at him with dimming eyes. His khopesh fell to the ground with a clatter.

  Tjety had just enough time to trade the empty pistol for his blade before the treeline exploded with a burst of shambling forms, their horrific auras outlined in a dank green fog, their bright green eyes nearly as bright as the stars.

  He raised his khopesh high, cried out a challenge, and ran for the creatures. He laid into them with his blade, finding them surprisingly easy to wound. The things weren’t very fast nor very agile, and all they had to attack him with was brute strength and arms and teeth. Which, actually, was more than he could handle.

  Tjety soon found himself surrounded by several grasping creatures, and flailed around with his khopesh and his wounded arm. He lopped off the arm of one creature and then another grabbed his leg and pulled, nearly knocking him over. That one’s head suddenly exploded as Tjety heard the sharp report of a rifle.

  He turned to look, and saw three villagers aiming his way with borrowed rifles. He cried out to them to shoot and dropped to the ground. The villagers opened up a withering array of gun fire. He covered his head and hoped their aim was sound.

  The creatures dropped all around him, and yet some crawled toward him or toward the villagers. He grabbed one by the ankles and swung his khopesh into its back, cutting its spine. It opened its mouth in a silent scream, trying to clutch at the blade. He wrenched the blade out of the thing’s back and glanced down into its chest cavity, which was glowing with a strange green light. He reached in and pulled out a small heart-shaped scarab, the source of the green glow. As soon as he pulled it out of the creature’s chest, the moldy form suddenly slumped to the ground and stopped moving.

  He stared at the scarab in his hands in confusion, watching as the green glow it emanated slowly faded to darkness. Somehow the scarab was the key to their unnatural life. He glanced toward the villagers, who were gunning down the last of the creatures.

  “Shoot their chests! Shoot the green amulets in their chests!”

  A couple of the villagers nodded in understanding and worked their way toward the last few mummified forms. Tjety got to his feet and then felt Ruia crash into him, breathless.

  Tjety said, “Get your people into the trees and help them find cover! I’ll get the last of the creatures!”

  In response, Ruia said, “I didn’t rescue you only to be thrown aside! Let me help you!”

  “Help yourself and your people!” Tjety pushed her toward the trees, but then had to turn and ready his khopesh again to defend himself against another unliving creature shambling toward him.

  He made short work of the construct with his blade, though it managed to score a ringing blow on his already-wounded arm. He cried out in pain and then shoved his
khopesh into its chest and cut out its green scarab. It fell to the ground without another swing.

  Ruia threw her arm around him and helped him back toward the wagons. He cast his eyes all around, but it appeared that the battle was coming to an end. The odd gunshot rang out here and there, and the groans of pain from the survivors filled the night air.

  He put a hand onto the closest wagon for balance, and turned to Ruia. “Thank you for your help. I could use my satchel off my horse.”

  “Will you be all right until I get back?”

  “I think we’ve won this one, Ruia. You and your people should be proud.”

  She glanced around and shook her head. “I don’t know about proud. It’s enough to be alive.”

  He met her eyes and nodded in understanding, his respect for the girl deepening another notch. She held the look for a few heartbeats, then hurried off toward the screaming horses.

  Tjety took a deep breath as Ruia’s last words echoed in his mind. It was enough to be alive.

  CHAPTER 18

  ZEZAGO SETTLED ONTO HIS CAMP COT, his legs stretched out and his hands folded onto his chest. He tugged on a simple blanket to keep his naked body warm, then closed his eyes. Several deep breaths had him slipping into a deep hekau meditative state, and then, carefully, he untethered his living ethereal ba from his body and spooled it out, soaring up through the cloth top of his tent and into the night sky.

  He had no desire to exhaust himself unnecessarily, so he scanned around his surroundings until he found a likely carrier target and homed in on that. He streaked his ba toward the unsuspecting bird and slammed into it with the force of his hekau. This particular target was an owl, a larger example of the species than he usually encountered. The northern varieties of the bird were generally small. He guessed that frontier living resulted in larger, hardier birds.

  As it was, it posed no threat to him, and its simple animal mind was easy to cordon off. He flexed his hekau and filled the living body of the bird with his ba, taking full possession of it from tail feathers to beak.