by Jim Johnson
"Well met, Ranger of the south."
Tjety kept his pistol aimed somewhere around the man’s chest. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you dead right here and now.”
The man’s smile never wavered as he held his horse still in front of Tjety. “Despite recent events,” he glanced at the two bodies to either side of him, “I have no quarrel with you. My House and your order have never encountered each other. Until now, anyway.”
Tjety frowned. “You know my order but I don’t know shit about yours.”
The man smiled as he tucked loose folds of fabric back into his headcloth. "My house name would mean nothing to you, Ranger. We are neither Kekhmet nor Hesso. But as a form of introduction, my name is Zezago, Deshi of the House of Gintenka.”
“Nice title, but it means fuck-all to me.” Tjety’s gun hand started to shake. “Why are you here?”
"Reasons well beyond your understanding."
Tjety's frown deepened. "All I know is your men sow destruction and discontent. You destroyed a village and caused many unnecessary deaths." He licked his lips, uncertain how much longer he could hold up his gun. "I expect you're also responsible for the creation of those monstrous, unliving...things."
The smile on the man's face had broadened at each point, which made Tjety quail inside. The man flexed his hands, then after a moment staring at him, dismounted.
"I accept responsibility for all those things, and many more you can’t possibly know." He stepped to the left of his horse and rested a hand on his sword's pommel again.
A bright flash from the man’s ba told Tjety that the man had some skill with hekau, almost certainly stronger than his own. Tjety reached out and took hold of Heker’s reins, and slowly started to sidestep toward the tree line. Zezago kept smiling and sidestepped as well, toward the river, countering Tjety’s movements.
"What would you do, knowing that I am responsible for all those deaths?"
Tjety heard the mocking tone in the man's voice, and knew that this would not end well. In a burst of movement, he raised his pistol and fired his last two rounds.
Zezago’s hand and sword were a blur of motion. Two metallic whines sounded in the air. In one explosion of hekau and muscle, the man had drawn his sword and somehow, somehow, deflected the two bullets.
By the gods, it’s even possible the man had, insanely, cut them out of the gods-damned air!
Tjety stared awestruck through the gun smoke at Zezago, who brought his sword up to a ready position in a flick of steel shining in the sunlight. The man’s back was to the river, and he stood ready, inviting him to attack him in the old ways, blade to blade.
Fuck that!
Tjety focused all his will and intent, and plunged into the very last vestiges of his hekau to create a virtual fist that extended to the dark man and punched him right off his feet and into the river beyond, his sword spinning out of his grip.
Tjety had clearly taken the man by surprise. As he sagged to his knees in the wet sand, he realized that he had even surprised himself. He’d only ever attempted a hekau’druh twice before, once in training and once during that screwed-up encounter in that fucking Kesh cantina. The very encounter that had gotten him exiled to this gods-damned frontier.
He stared numbly as Zezago tumbled downstream. The man would be out of action for a while, but he’d get to the shore soon enough. Tjety knew he had to get moving as soon as possible, but there was just nothing left in him. He blinked dully at the glittering waves, wondering if it’d be better to just sink into the cool water and let the Iteru carry him away. He dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. “Whatever your will, mighty Hapi. May it be done.”
After a long moment of silence, he heard a few small splashes and then Heker snorted and nudged his back. Tjety snapped back to the present. He shook the fog out of his head and reached up to grab double-handfuls of Heker’s mane. “Gimme a hand up, boy.”
Tjety bodily pulled himself up onto Heker’s back and slumped heavily against his neck. He fished for the reins and missed the first time, but caught them on the second reach and gently pulled Heker’s head around to move them toward the road once again.
He walked Heker past the two fallen bandits and then nudged his flank and got underway. With his mind flat and senses exhausted, Tjety’s only thought other than navigating the road was: How in the name of Mayat was he going to stand up to a man who could deflect bullets out of the air with a fucking sword?
CHAPTER 9
“GODS DAMN IT! STOP THE LINE, stop the line!” Qebsenuf stood up in his saddle and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Stop, I said!”
One of the soldiers on the other side of the river raised a hand and repeated the order. “Stop, stop!”
Qebsenuf clenched his reins in his hands and watched another construct flail helplessly as the river current took hold and swept it away, downriver and out of sight. He shook his head. “Stupid things weren’t built to swim.”
His men held back the constructs still on the western shore. “How we gonna get them across, boss Qeb?”
Qebsenuf scratched at his chin, feeling the prickles of stubble. He glanced across the river and called out to Teffu, one of his scouts. “How’s the ford?”
Teffu yelled back, “Deeper than we expected but fine for horses and men as long as we move careful!”
Qebsenuf raised a hand in frustration. “Well, gods-damn it, that doesn’t help me now!”
Teffu raised his hands in a helpless shrug. Qebsenuf turned toward the other soldiers on his side of the shore and thought hard. How was he going to get the rest of his men and the remaining constructs across the river? They’d lost four of them already.
He stared at the river, and at the men and the horses, and the constructs, and asked himself what the Master Deshi might do. He didn’t know the man all that well, but knew that he seemed to have an answer for every problem placed before him.
He thought about the arrowhead Zezago had given him, but no. This was not the time to use it. Zezago would view the cry for help as weakness and would not hesitate to punish him again, even kill him this time. Qebsenuf still wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to live through their last exchange.
He shook his head. Master Deshi was testing him, and he had to pass this one. He’d pledged his service and his life to Zezago, and he could not, would not, fail him as Meret and the others had. No, there had to be a solution here.
Qebsenuf waved over one of his cleverer Hesso scouts. “Merlom, we have a problem. Help me reason this out.”
Merlom nudged his mount over to Qebsenuf. “As I’m able, boss.”
“We have a deeper river ford than expected, fifteen men, fifteen horses, and almost thirty constructs. We’ve lost four to the river current and have no time to recover them.” He pointed to each item in turn. “How do we get everyone across so that we can get on the gods-damned trail to Fort Sekhmet?”
Merlom focused along with Qebsenuf. “Maybe…set up a bridge with two lengths of rope? Walk them across?”
Qebsenuf shook his head. “Easy enough for men, but these things can barely walk straight on solid ground. I wouldn’t trust any of them to navigate a rope bridge.”
Merlom frowned. “Hmm, well then.”
Qebsenuf stared at the horses, a glimmer of an idea forming. “What if we rode double? One man and one construct per horse? Ride them across the water rather than pushing them through?”
“Ride with those things? Boss, I know you ain’t crazy, but that idea sure makes me wonder.”
“I think it’s worth a try, don’t you?”
“I guess, but I sure don’t want to ride with one of those things. If you don’t think they can manage a rope bridge, what makes you think they can mount a horse? Besides, the damn things are fragile. They’re liable to fall apart from the bouncing in the saddle.”
Qebsenuf frowned. “No, I think this is our only option. We can’t go back the way we came, and there’s no other workable crossi
ng for miles. We can’t build a bridge, and I think you’re right—the rope bridge is a bad idea.” He considered the variables, then nodded. “No, the only way is to get them on the horses.”
He heeled his horse forward and gestured for the men on his side of the river to close in around him. Once they did, he raised his voice. “We need to get those constructs onto the other side of the river, and we have no time for alternatives or argument. We’re going to take one construct each on our horses, ride them across, and then come back for more until all of them are safe on the other side.”
He stared into each of their surprised gazes, forcing steel into his gaze and iron into his words. “We have to do this, or we won’t be able to support Master Deshi. If any of you don’t want to do this, then ford the river and hand off your horse to someone who will. I need your help, one way or the other.”
The men arrayed around him traded looks, and he could tell they weren’t happy. He glanced up at the sun, past noon now. “We need to get moving, so get on it. Do your best to carefully get them up on your horse, then ford the river and deposit them on the far side. Move, now.”
Slowly, in ones and twos, the soldiers moved their horses toward the still line of constructs. Qebsenuf called out to them. “You’re going to be pulled up onto the horses and ridden across the river. Don’t move and don’t struggle.”
The constructs stared at him with their strange unblinking eyes. He pressed his hand against his chest, onto his Apep tattoo underneath his tunic. “Great lord Apep, help us get these things across the river. In your service, so be it.”
He stood his horse off to one side and watched as his men gingerly figured out how to lift a construct onto the front of their saddles, and awkwardly balance them there before walking their horses through the river ford. The men already on the other side of the river waited with outstretched hands to support the horses and constructs as they reached the other side.
Merlom waited his turn to carry one across and glanced at him. “This has to be the most fuckin’ ridiculous river crossing I’ve ever seen.”
Qebsenuf nodded, but offered him a sidelong smile. “It’s a damned strange sight, but it’s working. I think Master Deshi would be pleased.”
Merlom just shook his head and then rode forward to pull a construct up onto his horse.
Qebsenuf stared up at the sun. Even with this delay they had made good time. He focused on his troops and constructs again. It’d take time to get all the constructs across the river, and they might lose another one or two, but they were getting it done. Soon he’d be able to lead these men and these things onward.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he muttered. Damned strange way to go, but he’d take it. For the Master Deshi, he’d have carried the damn things across the river on his own back.
CHAPTER 10
A COOL BREEZE RIPPLED ACROSS THE Iteru and shuddered the branches all around as Ruia refilled a waterskin. If she hadn’t been leading the remains of her village for survival, she might have thought it was a pretty day. “Doubt we’ll ever see another pretty day,” she muttered.
One of the younger boys, Henturu, jogged up the river shore toward her. "Ruia! Ruia! The bridge is ahead!"
She stood up, a glimmer of hope kindling in her breast. She stood and pressed her hands to the small of her back to stretch it out. "How close, Henturu?"
He leaned over to catch his breath, supporting himself on a length of stick he had picked up from somewhere along the way. She was amused to note that it didn't look all that different from the length of wood she had used to fashion a spear the other day.
"Maybe twenty minutes? I ran real fast."
She smiled, in spite of her weariness. "I bet you did. Twenty minutes, huh?" So it wouldn't take long for the wagon and the rest of the survivors to get there. And that meant that she had to be ready to face down Setesk and his friends.
She rested a hand on Henturu’s shoulder. "Thank you for running as fast as you did. You've been a big help."
He beamed at her as she knew he would. She added, "Go on, run to the wagon and get something to eat and drink. I'm sure you're hungry!"
Henturu nodded and then tore off along the shoreline, swinging his stick at the tall reeds as he passed by.
Ruia slung her waterskin around her shoulder and then trudged toward the wagon. She was sore from sitting on the bench all day, and she dreaded getting back onto that seat. She really just wanted to stretch out in the back of the wagon and sleep, though some part of her knew that she didn't have such an option. She pushed through the thin undergrowth and regained the clear road. She hurried the short distance to where the wagon and the other villagers were slowly trudging their way toward the crossroads.
Henturu had already reached them and was perched heroically on the wagon bench next to Aniba, a mealy apple in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Some of the villagers were patting Henturu on the back or leg, wherever they could reach.
As Ruia walked up, he smiled. “I told everyone about the bridge!"
"I’m glad, Henturu." She caught a warning look from Aniba.
Setesk stepped around the wagon with his three allies arrayed around him. They all had their rifles in hand, and while they weren't actually aimed at her, they certainly seemed to be in an aggressive posture. "If the bridge is up ahead, means the crossroads is too."
Ruia nodded. "That's right."
Setesk stopped several paces from her. "And that means we'll be getting on toward the village."
Ruia settled her gaze on him. She raised her voice and hoped that everyone would hear.
"We cross the bridge and make for the fort." She pointed into the sky. "It's well after noon. We have maybe five hours of workable light left to us. If we push hard, we can reach the fort late tonight."
"No, ma’am." Setesk called out. "No, we ride for home and leave the bridge and that fool Ranger behind."
Mutters of agreement sounded from his three allies. Ruia was somewhat heartened to hear no responses from the others. She suspected they were keeping silent, waiting to see how this would all play out.
Ruia willed her heart to steady its rushing beats. She tried consciously pulling some strength from her hekau and felt the drain, but it was soon replaced by a rush of confidence. Strange. She’d have to ask Tjety about it later, if there was a later.
She shook her head. “We're not going to risk all of these people. There is nothing left for us at the village but more death. We’re going to the fort, and that’s all I have to say about that.”
Setesk glanced at his allies, then swept his gaze over the other villagers. "Friends, listen to me. We've come this far and now it's time to go home. I appreciate what Ruia has done for us, but now it's time for her to get some rest. Let me lead you home."
Ruia yelled out. “And you listen to me! Go with this man if you want but leave the rest of us to go to the fort. We don't have time to stand here and argue about this!"
Setesk shook his head and gestured toward her vaguely with his rifle. "We stick together. That's the way it has to be."
“No, damn you.” Somehow the pistol slung around her chest appeared in her right hand, aimed at Setesk's heart. How had that happened? She didn’t remember drawing it. She felt renewed strength through her hekau, rushing cold blood into her veins and forging steel in her eyes.
Setesk stared down the barrel at her. "You ain't gonna shoot me." He offered a hesitant laugh. "We got enough wounded and dead as it is."
She cocked the pistol with a firm motion of her thumb. "We're going over the bridge together, Setesk. With or without you."
He licked his dry lips, and glanced from villager to villager, looking for support but finding none. His hands tensed on his rifle. “I ain’t gonna…”
Ruia’s pistol leapt in her hand, the crack of the gunshot sounding loud in the afternoon air. With wide eyes, she stared at Setesk through the gun smoke. Had she really shot him?
Setesk blinked at her se
veral times, mouth agape. He stuttered out, “I…I…”
She cocked back the hammer again. “We’re going over the bridge.” She didn’t trust herself to say anything more.
He continued to stare at her as a thin puddle expanded around his feet. “I…heard the bullet pass my ear.” He glanced down and then turned an impressive shade of red. “Aw, shit.”
She gestured toward the nearby river with the pistol barrel. “Best clean yourself before we move on.”
He blinked a few more times, then handed his rifle off to one of his silent allies, and gingerly stepped out of the puddle he’d formed.
As Setesk walked away, she lowered her pistol and fixed each remaining villager with a stare. "If you don't trust yourselves, then trust in me. I'll get us to the fort. I promise you that." She gestured toward the crossroads. “Any damn fool who wants to walk to the village is welcome to do so. The rest of us are crossing the river.”
The villagers traded looks with each other and then started walking toward the crossroads and the long wooden bridge built on stone foundations just beyond.
Ruia glanced at Aniba. “Let’s get moving.” She glanced at the pistol in her hand, uncocked it, and then set it back into the holster slung across her chest. She tried hard not to think about how its presence and weight comforted her.
Aniba stared at her as she returned to her seat on the bench. "Thought you was gonna shoot him for sure."
The truth spilled out of her before she could stop it. “I…think I meant to. Must have flinched at the last.” She blinked in surprise.
Aniba's eyes widened. "Gods, Ruia. You're turning into a hard woman. Bless your ba. Your ma and da would be proud."
She simply nodded, not trusting herself to respond. Was she turning hard? She furrowed her brow. Would she have shot Setesk? She barely registered her friends as they walked alongside the wagon—some offered her smiles while others just stared at her with what she guessed was either confusion or fear in their faces. Setesk shuffled along behind the wagon, eyes downcast.
