I tried to watch for them to come around the bend and watch the men at the same time. I was making myself dizzy whipping my head back and forth. Eventually I caught sight of them making their way down the rocky slope into the bowl of the valley. Jacob had his hands out in front of him and would occasionally shove Li forward. He stopped when one of the men raised a hand. I couldn't make out the words, but the muffled sound of their voices echoed up to us.
“Sounds like they're buyin’ it so far. Get ready,” Wasco said.
“How do you know they won't just take the trade?” I asked.
“I don't. Been wrong before,” he answered.
“But what are we gonna do if they take Li! You sent him down there and you don't know?” My voice was edging onto hysteria.
“Quiet girl. I ain't wrong this time. See there. Watch the guy in the straw hat. He’s movin’ his horse to get out of Jacob’s line of sight,” Wasco said.
He leveled the rifle and took a breath. I jumped from the flash and bang. When I looked back down the hill the man was on fire. He dropped to the ground, dropping the gun he had drawn and started rolling around screaming. Someone must have caught sight of us because bullets began to whiz angrily over my head. Wasco shoved the rifle at me and grabbed the Winchester from my numb hands.
“Load girl!”
My hands started moving while I peeked between the rocks. Li had grabbed his sword and leapt toward the man in front of him, two quick movements and the man fell, in at least two pieces. I swear Jacob's guns had appeared in his hands before the bundle he dropped hit the ground. I heard a crack I thought was one of Jacobs’s guns, but the sound split when it echoed from the walls to reveal it as two simultaneous shots.
One man fell from a horse and didn’t move again. Another grabbed his arm, yelled, and backed behind a large rock. Wasco popped up, fired three times with the Winchester and two more men fell. Ying pulled a small clay vial from her apron and worked the cork out of it. She said something into the bottle and took a drink without swallowing. She puckered her lips and blew out gently. A seemingly endless rope of mist flowed from her mouth and down the slope like a serpent. When it reached the horses they all spooked and kicked and jumped. Two men ran from behind the panicked horses and Wasco shot one of them. The mist reached the other and wrapped around and up him like a giant snake. When he tried to scream the mist flowed into his open mouth and he simply fell over soundlessly.
I stared at the scene and whispered, “What was that? Did you kill him?”
“A spirit of the wind,” was all she said.
Wasco tossed the Winchester back to me and grabbed the one I had just loaded. I forgot to load the Winchester and just held it, mesmerized by the scene. Jacob and Li were stalking the wagon where two men were taking cover. When they tried to make a run for it, shooting as they went, Jacob filled one full of lead and the other fell with an arrow in his chest from Li.
Just like that it was over. It had seemed like hours, it had only been seconds since the shooting started. Wasco stood up and headed down the slope.
“That coulda went worse I suppose,” he said.
I was getting up to follow when I heard the hiss bang of a steam pistol go off. Wasco fell forward, hit the ground, rolled, and then slid a few feet down the rocks, a black stain spreading on his chest. I spun around, and the man's steaming gun moved over to me, his bleeding arm held tight against his body. It was the guy Jacob had wounded, he must have snuck away during the fight and came around behind us.
CHAPTER SIX – MOVERS
“ You just sit tight right there boy. Toss that rifle over, that's right, nice and slow,” he said to me.
I tossed the Winchester towards him. I shoulda been scared, but I wasn’t. I was numb.
“Old woman, get over here by the boy,” he said to Ying.
He called down the hill, “I got your woman and the boy. The big man is dead. I'd say we can do some talkin’ now. Lemme hear those pistols hit the dirt.”
He was looking down to Li and Jacob trying to see over the ridge and not paying us a bit of mind, thinking me just a child, and a boy at that!
I don’t remember what I was thinking when I did it, I just remember being mad that he kept calling me a boy! Before I knew what I was doing I had pulled my spitshot from my belt and hockered into it. He spun back toward me at the sound and the Blackchip hit him right in the eye. His gun went off. He dropped it, grabbing at his eye, and fell to the ground squirming in pain. Lights exploded in my vision and things went blurry. He rolled over to his dropped gun. For an instant my vision cleared, and I watched as he grabbed the dropped weapon and came up pointing it at Ying. Warm blood flooded my vision, the world turned sideways, and I was falling.
Darkness. I could hear a buzzing around me and I tried to swat at it, but something was holding me down. White hot pain as something tried to dig into my skull. I kicked, screamed, and gnashed my teeth, but I could not get free. It felt like a boulder held me down. I fought harder and let loose every swear word I'd ever heard, but it was useless. Things cut, prodded, and poked into my skull. Something was wrapped around my head tightly, squeezing it. It stuck to and pulled at my skin.
I thought about the spiders I'd heard stories of that would creep up from the sand to wrap sleeping people up in their webs and eat them alive. The spiders were burrowing into my head and I knew I'd be eaten from the inside. I wondered how long it would take to die. When would the pain stop? Something vile and sticky poured into my mouth and I tried to spit it out. Pinpoints of light flared in my vision and the pain slowly receded to a dull pressure. The buzzing started sounding like words, like someone calling my name. I wondered if it was God calling me to Heaven. I hadn't ever thought about God before, but Ma talked about Him all the time.
I opened my eyes and was blinded. It was so bright. As my watering eyes cleared, a face appeared lit from behind by a glowing ball of fire. There was something protruding from it, like a handle. Then everything snapped into focus and I was staring at the face of the bandit split by a Native axe, blood running from the wound, sun setting behind it. I let out a squeal and tried to roll away, but a hand pushed me down gently and held me fast.
“How ‘bout you just lay there a minute or two kid. Bullet grazed your noggin; luckily, that's the hardest spot on ya. I don't think it did nothin’ more than knock ya silly for a bit,” Wasco said.
He was looking grim-faced down at me. My ears were ringing, and I could barely make out the words.
I reached up and felt a bandage wrapped around my head. I felt the warmth of blood under it and a knot the size of a walnut and I swooned thinking of spiders.
“How? I thought you was dead,” I said.
“It would probably hurt a lot less if I were, but nah. Passed right through and missed everything important. I oughta be alright, same as you, now drink the rest of this,” he said.
He pushed a clay vial to my mouth and tipped it too far for me to do anything but swallow or drown. Good thing too, it was the vilest stuff I had ever tasted. I couldn’t begin to describe it or I’d wretch in the thinking. Suffice it to say, it was not something I wanted to ever drink again. Too bad for wanting I guess. Once the taste was gone though, I felt the coolness of it flow through my body. Immediately my head felt better, and the burning, throbbing pain stopped. It itched like someone had wrapped it in poison ivy! I reached up to scratch it, and the bump was almost gone. I felt around, and it didn't hurt too touch.
“One a Ying's mixes,” Wasco said. “Fine stuff that. You nap a while; you'll be good as new when you wake up.”
I couldn't keep my eyes open. Darkness crept in from the sides and I learned something. Wasco was a damn liar.
“Ah shit!” I yelled waking up. I wrapped my hands around my head. It felt like it was going to burst.
“You said I would be good as new! I'm dyin’ you mother lovin’ son of a bitch’s bastard’s whore!” I swore.
I was sure I invented a lot more swear words before
the pain subsided with the help of another of Ying's potions, and I should have felt guilty. I didn't. Damn but my head hurt.
After another nap of indeterminable time, I woke up to the crackling of fire. Ying was lying flat on her bedroll and I could see the silhouettes of Jacob, Wasco, and Li sitting on logs around a fire, talking quietly.
“What happened? Where are we?” I called, my voice sounding strange to my ears.
“To answer the second question first, we are in the same place, more or less.”
Li's voice.
I half scooted, half crawled over and leaned against the end of the log.
I looked to Wasco, “I thought you was dead. He shot you. Did he shoot me?” I reached up to touch my bandaged head.
There was no bump and no warmth of blood. Just an itchy scab.
“Yeah, he did. Shot us both. Just didn't shoot us dead thanks to you and that peashooter, and Ying's concoctions,” Wasco said.
“Peashooter? My spitshot? Oh yeah, my spitshot! I shot him with it then everything went dark!”
Wasco nodded then said, “Ying says when you spitshot him his gun went off and grazed yer head. Lily-livered sumbitch had come ‘round the side and shot me in the back. Bullet missed the lung, but it knocked me on my ass. Wasn't ready fer it. When I got my head back on I looked up and he had his gun pointed at Ying. I had dropped my rifle, so I grabbed my hawk and threw it. Split his head.”
“Ying? Is she…?” I asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
“She's fine. He missed her clean,” Wasco said.
I let out the breath I didn't realize I had been holding and realized that my bladder was set to burst.
“I need to piss,” I said and started to get up. “Is it safe? To go out there?”
“Yes, it is safe. Over by the horses I got a hole dug. Here,” Jacob said, and he handed me a lantern.
When I returned, Wasco was talking.
“So, I joined up to fight the Empire, think I was round ‘bout fifteen years old. Wasn’t for any noble reasons though. I was just full of piss and vinegar. Couldn't stand being in one place all the time. Life with Natives before they sent me off, it had been different. We moved all the time. When they dropped me at my sister’s place things were different. They stayed in place, never going more than the mile to town. So as soon as I was able I joined up with the Union.
“Fought fer better part of a year. The last battle, it was nasty. Things had changed toward the end. The Union was tired, and that made them do things that were hard to settle with. But the Empire, those Enlightened sons a bitches, they were ambitious. And that'll make men do worse.” He took a breath and continued.
“Battle of the Mississippi was a long, bloody affair. The Enlightenment had been workin’ with steam-powered suits. Big suits made of all metal they'd pump full of steam with hoses. But they couldn't really control ‘em. They would just charge into lines of men, their arms swingin’ with abandon, killin’ their own as much as they was killin’ us. They didn't care.
“They sent African troops in with them, to throw water on the metal suits. To keep ‘em cool I think. Most of the black troops got burned so bad they got left behind or stomped into the dirt by the damn thing they was throwin’ water on.” He made that noise in his throat. “And that weren't even the half of it. End of the battle came, and we had won, if that's what ya call all that blood and all those bodies. I was done. I picked up my pack and my rifle and just started walkin’.
“Walked all the way back to Endtown. It was just a lil’ Podunk place then but there were still too many people for me, and I couldn't rest easy in one place. So, I kept walking right up into the mountains and I hadn't walked out till a few days ago.”
“That's been what? Thirty years? You mean you missed the last thirty years in the mountains? You didn't see the steam cars or know about Ember?” Jacob asked.
“I guess I kinda knew. I'd see a thing here or there that would seem a might strange, but when yer living that close to the Blacklands you see plenty of strange things. I hadn't really known what it all was till Topher here showed me.”
“How did you get so burned up?” Jacob asked. “When Old Ying was working on you I saw your chest. You have scars all over.”
Wasco met Jacob's eyes then slid his gaze to me. “That wasn't from the war. That there is from the Black Rot,” he said. “That's what all of ya better be knowin’. The things that live where we're goin’, they ain't just strange. They're deadly. Some of ‘em are sick with it and they can give it to you. Can even spit it at you. And it ain't like other wounds. It'll pus up and ooze out and eat ya from the inside.”
He rubbed at a spot on his side. “My second year in the mountains I hadn't really knowed about the Rot yet. I was out hunting and saw what I thought was a black bear. Turned out to be a Rot infected brown. I took the shot and hit it square, but it didn't go down. Just turned and came at me. I loaded and fired again but it still came on. I killed it by chopping it to pieces with my hawk, but I got plenty bloody in the process. Silver Owl, Shaman of the local tribes, was able to clean most of it out, but some of it needed burned out. I wasn't supposed to live through it. It was better than dying from the Rot, which the tribes say kills the soul and the body.”
Jacob said, “I've seen some fellas with the Rot, it is not pretty. Painful way to go.”
Wasco nodded. “Yes, it is. Not everything in the Blacklands has got the Rot, but enough does. It can't hurt me no more, so you let me take care of ‘em if it comes to that, you hear?” he locked gazes with each of us.
“We ain't got no shaman to cure it,” he said, “and you wouldn't survive their care if we did.”
Those words held in the air for a full minute. Then Old Ying's voice, quiet as a mouse on goose feathers, came out of the darkness.
“I can cure the Rotting and will not kill you. But still we must heed Mr. Wasco's warning. I can only do so much.”
I thought I was ready enough to ride by morning, but everyone said we needed to rest a bit more, so I fell back to sleep and slept like death. Between Ying's concoctions and his constitution, Wasco looked like he hadn't even been shot, except the hole in his shirt and coat, and an occasional grunt when he moved his arm. That man was made of stone, I swear.
The following day we set an easy pace, leaving the bodies burning in the wagon behind us. Wasco and Jacob had searched them while I was out, and found a wallet with some papers, sure enough spelling out a bounty on prisoners and bodies signed by Bull McCain.
The next night’s sleep was all I needed to feel right as rain and the following day felt like we were just out for a Sunday ride.
“Why would a horse thief pay money for dead bodies?” Jacob asked.
“Been wonder’n on that myself,” Wasco said.
By nightfall we had reached the cliff edge and the trail that led down into the Blacklands. Ying was standing at the edge of the cliff looking off into the distance. I joined her, and we stood there together for a long time not saying anything. The sun had just left the horizon and was lighting up the west in purples and pinks. A dragon soared on the wind, silhouetted by the falling sun.
Ying said, “In my country we consider dragons to be noble and wise creatures.”
“They’re just flying rats. Eat dead stuff,” I said.
“I suppose that is partially true for some. But they are legendary in China. I suspect even out there, they are far more than flying rats. Have you seen one up close?”
“Na, they don't come near town cause they get shot at I guess. Ma says they used to, but people killed ‘em.”
She reached over and pulled the spyglass from my belt and held it out to me. “Look closer,” she said. “See if you see more than a flying rat.”
I took the glass and searched the sky, remembering to move slowly. It had settled on the air currents and was just hanging there in the air. It was not at all what I had expected. At first it appeared to be black and completely covered in scales that almost looked lik
e feathers, and then it caught the waning light in prismatic waves of color.
Its wings were spread out and even, though it didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and its serpentine body undulated through the wind. It fanned its tail out and I gasped. It was covered in feathers that presented a glorious display of color. Green and red and purple, even gold. It waved it back and forth in rhythm with its twisting body and I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then it folded it in, tucked its wings and dove for the ground. I pulled the glass away from my eye to try and locate it again. That's when I saw the other one diving behind it in pursuit.
“A mating call. That's what the tail is for,” Ying said. “Males call the females with that display. We are very fortunate to see such a thing. It is a good omen.”
I watched the horizon, trying to find them again.
Ying patted my head and walked back to the fire. I stood there as the light faded, hoping for a last glimpse of the dragons. Just as darkness swallowed the last of the light I thought I saw them or one of them, anyway. I would never know for sure but I think it had the other one hanging limply from its jaws.
I walked back to the camp and settled into my bedroll thinking of the dragons. How could it have been so beautiful? As the darkness deepened it brought with it a pervasive feeling of dread. Something wasn't right. I sat up. Nobody was asleep. Every rock and tree seemed to be hiding some danger. While nothing threatened us, I didn't sleep one wink that first night. Come morning everyone but Wasco looked like they hadn't slept either. If Wasco had or not I couldn't tell; he was the same as he ever was. He moved around, stowing gear and packing horses. If he noticed the rest of us were dragging ass he made no mention of it. He did the work that was usually done by us all without complaint. We eventually climbed into saddles and made for the trail that would take us down into the Blacklands.
Bella Page 7
