It was not much of a trail; it wound down, hugging the wall of the cliff on the inside. On the outside there was a fall hundreds of feet. I was not happy, but Old Shit didn't seem to notice. He was a dumb old mule, but he was surefooted as could be. There were a few places where we had to get off our mounts and walk them single file because the ledge was too small.
“We won't make it down before the sun sets,” Jacob said.
The sun in question was about a hand span from touching the horizon and we were no more than halfway down. I had been dozing in the saddle and started awake at the conversation, almost falling, which put my guts to twisting.
“There's a place little further down. Need to pick up the pace a bit though,” Wasco called back.
It was dark by the time we found it. Riding a mule on a ledge a hundred feet up in the dark was not fun, of that I can swear. But surefooted Old Shit never faltered. It was a small cave in the side of the wall. Wasco went in with a lantern. There was firewood stacked against the back wall with some crates and a cask. Wasco went over and exchanged some of the wood he had gathered above and started a small fire.
With the night had come that same feeling of dread. The blessing was that none of us had really slept the night before, so I just threw my bedroll out and went to sleep, too tired to care if something was coming to eat us.
I woke up to the morning sun and tried to blink the glare away. A Natives face peeked around the corner of the cave and I screamed. The face pulled back and let out a yelp itself.
Wasco said something in what I assumed was the Native language. He had his rifle trained on the mouth of the cave. The Native’s face reappeared.
Wasco said something else in the Native tongue and the man smiled slightly and stepped out with his hands in the air.
They talked back and forth for a bit, clasped hands, and the Native headed down the path toward the Blacklands.
“Was he tryin’ to sneak up on us?” I asked.
“Nah, he was gonna take his rest here on his way down but saw us, so he slept out on the ledge. Got here a little after we did and didn't want to alarm us.”
“He alarmed the hell outta me,” I said.
“Yeah, well yer an excitable girl,” he said with a grin and started stoking the fire.
I said, “Yer a pain the ass.”
Once the fire was going he said, “He did gimme some direction. Said he's been seeing movement due west, thinks he saw a flying ship once, but he wasn't sure that's what it was. Said there are strange things there, stranger than normal, and that he will no longer hunt near there because of it.”
“Hunt? He hunts out here?” Jacob looked incredulous.
“Apache,” he said. “They use the sand lizards to poison their arrows. He will tell the tribe we're here. That might be good, might be bad. Might not be anything at all, but if you see any Natives you tell me and let me do the talkin’.”
The day was as much fun as the previous one had been, and I added my hands to my list of pains. I was gripping the saddle horn so hard on the way down I couldn't open them up even when we stopped at the bottom of the trail. It was only a few hours past midday, but it was already dark. Everything was dark. The sand was dark, the few plants were dark. It was like things down there sucked up the light and wouldn't let it out.
And it was hot.
Hotter than it ought to have been given the season and time of day. It was getting hotter as we descended. There had been a breeze on the trail that had died away, so I hadn't realized just how much hotter. Only a couple of things moved, and I wished I would not have noticed. A winged scorpion flew right by my shoulder and landed on a small flightless bird that looked more skeleton than bird. The scorpion started stinging it and the bird took off running, making a horrible wailing sound.
I looked questioningly at Jacob, but he just shrugged and clicked his horse into motion.
We only rode about an hour before we set up camp. Wasco had me practice shooting for an hour or so. I was okay with the Winchester, but I wouldn't be joining the traveling shows. He had me clean it and load it, shoot, reload. Shoot from one knee and lying down. From Old Shit's back and even had me roll on the ground a couple times then shoot. I didn't understand why I would ever shoot someone after doing all that, but I practiced like he said.
As the sun made its final fall to the horizon I have to admit, the thought of sleeping out there did not do any good for my nerves. I think that was why Wasco was keeping me busy all the time with all that circus shooting. We had made the camp in a cluster of rocks.
After helping clean the dishes I settled in with my back up against a rock and cleaned the Winchester. The rock was warm and comforting. I didn't know if Wasco was right about it being safe, but it definitely felt safer. I was asleep before I knew it.
I woke with a jerk and rolled forward grabbing for the gun that was still on my lap. I rolled away from the rock, tucking my shoulder just the way Wasco had made me practice, cocked the rifle, and fired. The gun flew up and out of my hands. I had not remembered to set it firmly against my shoulder. I had also neglected to set myself steady, so the kick knocked me back onto my ass. The bullet did what bullets do when they hit rock and made a whizzing noise as it spun away into the cold night.
Holding back a snicker, Jacob said to Wasco, “I told you we should have said something.”
“Yea, but we'd of missed that fine shootin’,” Wasco said.
“Well, she did hit it,” Jacob said.
“It's a damned rock, course she hit it,” Wasco said.
I sat stunned, looking back and forth at them. Ying helped me up and checked my scrapes with a frown at Wasco.
“It moved! The goddamned rock moved!” I said pointing at it.
It was still moving, ever so slowly, but it was moving. It wasn't rolling, and I could see no legs, but it was sure enough moving to the right.
“I know child. I was startled as well. I have never heard of such a thing, but they are guardian spirits and completely harmless,” Ying said.
Wasco was grinning, and Jacob was trying to hide his laughter. Even Li had a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
“Gonna put spiders in your bedrolls,” I told them.
That made Jacob laugh harder, which made Li snort, which made me laugh, and before long we all had tears streaming down our faces. Well not Wasco, he did laugh though, a short deep sounding rumble, and that was as shocking as the moving rocks.
When our giggle-fit finally ended Wasco told me about the Movers. They are all over the Blacklands. Nobody knows how or why they move, but they do, sometimes gathering into groups. They have no attack or defense that I could detect, but for some reason many of the creatures of the Blacklands stay clear of the gatherings, making them good shelter for those unwise enough to travel there. Like us. After learning of them, or maybe just because I was feeling giddy after all the stress of the previous days, I felt the need to apologize to the rock for shooting it.
That got Jacob snickering again, but I swear that it heard me. That night I slept without worry and like a newborn babe. When I awoke, I found that the Mover, at least I think it was the same one, had moved close enough I could feel the faint heat it radiated. I caught Old Ying giving me an odd smile as I patted it and said thank you, but I just ignored her.
We broke camp and rode for another few hours. The morning was cold for the first hour and I was shivering into Old Shit’s back wishing I was back in my bedroll next to the Mover. But as the sun got over the high sides of the canyon face it started heating up again. By the time we stopped for lunch we were all sweating in our saddles, which chapped areas best left to the imagination.
Wasco rode out ahead of us to scout things out as we regretfully climbed back into our torturous saddles. He was saying we were close to the area the Apache hunter had indicated so he wanted to get the lay of the land. The rest of us kept a slow pace following his tracks in the sand until he came back about an hour later, saying he hadn't seen anything of
the bandits, but there were some odd tracks that concerned him ahead and to keep our eyes open.
We rode on with Wasco out in front, rifle in hand. I noticed Li had his odd-looking bow on his lap, arrow notched. Jacob was still unarmed, but as fast as he was that didn’t matter. I pulled my Winchester out of its holster and tried riding with it for a ways. My arms got tired fast and when I tried to rest it on my knees it bumped and scraped them, so I put it away.
The rest of the day was almost boring. Nothing weird happened; I didn’t see anything unusual at all. We could have been riding through the dunes west of the city, except everything had a blackish-grey coloring to it. Wasco slowed down and fell in next to Jacob and said something to him, then did the same with Li and Ying who gave a worried look back to me.
After another fifteen minutes or so Wasco said, “Ain’t no rocks around and this is about as far as we can go. Gonna have to bed down out here in the open.”
I shrugged. “So?”
He grinned. “Well, I guess yer right, just figured I’d tell ya there ain’t gonna be no Movers around to shoot. Keep alert though, without Movers might be that a few things come ‘round to see what we’re about once it gets dark.”
Wasco set up camp differently this time, with the horses and mules in a half arc around us, our small tent at the open side. He said he would take the first watch, then me with Jacob, and finally Ying and Li. We had never set up watches like that before, at least that I had been told. I really didn’t know what it meant, but I nodded like Jacob had. The fire was small, and Wasco had dug into the sand and built it in the hole so there was very little warmth. I slept as close to it as possible. My brain tried to argue about the sleep, telling me to be terrified as the dread of the night settled in, but my body’s exhaustion won out eventually. I woke to a firm but gentle shake.
“Git up kid. Need your eyes with Jacob’s. Just keep alert in case any animals wander near. If you hear somethin’ you wake me, understand? Don't second-guess, just wake me,” Wasco said.
“Okay, I done watches before ya know,” I told him.
He raised an eyebrow. “Have ya now?”
“Well, you know, in the city. When we would, um, sometimes we would play games and have to do watchin’, that's all!” I told him.
I hadn’t. I had no idea what I was even talking about, but I didn’t want him to know that.
He nodded. “Good ‘nuff fer me.”
He laid on his bedroll and set the fire rifle across his chest. I walked over to Jacob.
“You think something going to attack us?” I asked him.
“I do not know, Topher. I've been out here once or twice before, but not like Wasco, never this far. Better just assume something might and keep a good watch,” he said and gave my arm a pat.
He scooted around so he was looking the opposite way and I was left staring out into the dark desert of the Blacklands. Even though I knew Jacob was right behind me, I felt alone and scared. An hour passed slowly, and I was on edge the whole time. I imagined a dragon swooping down and carrying me off, or one of those winged scorpions landing on me, or a giant bear charging in, oozing black goo and mauling me.
I was getting myself into quite a state when I heard Jacob’s voice. It was quiet, just above a whisper. “Are you missing home?” he asked.
He had said it so quietly, so slow and gentle, that it didn’t startle me. I am sure he could tell I had been starting to shake and that was why he did it. He was a good man.
“I... I don’t know. I’m scared,” I said.
I couldn’t believe I was admitting it, but I was too scared to act brave at that moment.
Jacob said, “Yeah, I am as well. I think we are supposed to be scared sometimes. Keeps you sharp. Makes you just a little bit faster. So long as you don’t let it control you, fear is a good thing.”
“I bet Wasco ain’t scared,” I said.
He chuckled. “Yeah well, you might be right about that.”
“Did he say he fought in the war?” I asked.
“Yes, he did,” Jacob said. “And he was raised by Red Leg Natives. He has got some kind of story.”
We were quiet then, watching the night, but having heard his voice calmed my fears and the last hour went by faster.
When I finally laid back down after waking Li and Ying, I thought I would never get back to sleep, but again my body won out and I fell into one of those deep sleeps that lets you sleep through anything. I slept through Old Ying shaking me, Wasco kicking me, and all of the shouting. It was only the sound of the gunshot that had me leaping up grabbing for the Winchester.
CHAPTER SEVEN – SAMRAK
A round me was chaos. Everyone was moving, but I couldn’t tell what they were doing. I heard sharp barks in the distance and jumped when I heard a gun go off behind me. Then Ying was at my side.
“Get up, Christopher; you need to get up now.” Her voice was surprisingly calm given the chaos, but left no room for debate.
I stood up and asked what was going on. My voice was not calm. Over her shoulder I could see Li hobbling the horses closer to the fire and tossing some brush on it.
“Over there girl,” Wasco said over his shoulder. “Get yer rifle and don’t let anything get at my backside.”
Wasco was silhouetted by a small ball of fire on the ground in front of him. He had turned his head to point with his chin where he wanted me to go while he was reloading his rifle. At that moment, the ball of fire climbed to its feet and leapt at him. Before I could think I levered a shell into the Winchester, pointed and squeezed the trigger. I shouldn’t have. Wasco’s head was right in the line.
The practice must have paid off or God was watching because I didn’t kill Wasco. I did hit the thing dead on in mid leap. It tumbled backwards, tried to get up. When it couldn’t, it tried to crawl toward us on its belly, black teeth bared, still burning, black goo oozing from its mouth.
Wasco finished packing the barrel of his rifle, pulled his long knife, and drove it into the canine head of the burning thing at his feet. It quit moving. In the light from the flame I could see a growing circle of blood on Wasco’s shoulder. His wound must have been reopened, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
“Coyote” he said.
“It’s on fire!” I yelled.
“Flaming Coyote,” he said with a nod to the fire rifle.
“Why didn’t it die?” I asked.
“Black Rot,” he said. “And I didn’t hit it clean. There’s more of ‘em out there. Not sure how many. Keep yer head movin’ and yer eyes open.”
I heard the twin blasts of Jacob’s pistols behind me and ducked instinctively, almost losing control of my bladder. Hands shaking, I levered another round into the Winchester and kept looking out into the darkness, not sure if I wanted to see something or not. Old Ying didn’t say anything but gave me a reassuring smile. Li was walking toe to heel around us looking out into the night. He stopped and drew an arrow back, then let fly. A faint glow traced the arrow’s flight into the night. I heard a thump, a yelp, and then a thud. Li smoothly drew another arrow from the quiver at his hip and began his walk again.
A gunpowder flash and loud report echoed across the desert and another coyote was on fire and howling. I followed it with a shot of my own, but I think I missed. After a few steps it fell, then started clawing its way forward, growling. In the glow of the burning and stinking bodies I could see no less than twenty sets of eyes reflected back at me in the fire, stalking back and forth trying to keep out of the firelight.
“What do we do?” I asked. “There might be hundreds of them out there!”
Wasco grunted something I could not make out and his head snapped up, looking to my right. I didn’t even see it until they went down in a tumble of claws, teeth, fists, and fur. One of the coyotes had leapt for me. Wasco, having been in the middle of reloading, dropped his rifle and jumped at it, catching it in the side and driving it away. I saw his fist pumping
up and down as they hit the ground, then its teeth latched onto his shoulder and he screamed.
Another one took advantage of the opening and charged into the dying firelight, then more streamed in behind. Fear fueled my hands as I worked the lever and fired rounds as fast as I could. Then they were everywhere, running out of the darkness and trying to grab an ankle or arm, before dancing back out of the light they seemed to fear. I heard Jacob’s pistols ringing out behind me, then the click, click of empty chambers. I shot at one, then another and another, chambering rounds and squeezing the trigger as fast as I could. Then the Winchester answered the call of Jacob’s pistols with an empty click of its own.
Li was down to two arrows and then one, then he dropped his bow and drew his sword. Wasco was buried under a mass of teeth and fur as others had leapt on him for the kill. His stony fists crunched bodies and his grip snapped limbs, but he was getting mauled in the process. I swung my rifle like a stickball bat at one of the passing things, cracking it in the head. A commotion erupted behind me. Yelping and snarling, things tearing and breaking, then a feral growl louder than anything I had heard from the coyotes sent chills up my spine. I looked but it was on the other side of the fire and out of the firelight.
Then I was blind. The fire exploded in a huge mass of bright-colored flames. It lit the desert and for an instant I could see hundreds of the coyotes bursting into flame all around us before everything went black. The light immolated them to one. One minute they were there, the next they were crumpled balls of flame, then the world was dark and quiet.
“It is okay Christopher. You vision should return shortly.”
Old Ying’s soft voice.
“What happened? Girl! You okay?”
Wasco’s gravely growl.
“She is fine, Mr. Wasco. I am here with her, although I cannot see at this moment either. Ying can, and we are all fine.” Li’s calm soft voice.
“What was that? What happened?” My voice and my body were shaking. I couldn’t find my gun, must have dropped it somewhere. I started to scramble trying to find it. Ying’s soothing voice and firm grip kept me still.
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