Straight Outta Tombstone

by David Boop

  The three on their feet rushed to interpose themselves—even as the näcken crashed into the mordant power of the evil circle they’d infused, as helpless to cross into it as any fae would be.

  But in the time it took them to realize that, I had caught my breath and my balance, aimed the Webley, and sent several ounces of lead thundering through the chest and, a heartbeat later, through the skull of the second Thule sorcerer.

  Page screamed in terror. The third Thule spun to me and sent multiple comets shrieking toward me, howling curses with each throw. I discarded the emptied revolver and drew my blade. The enchanted silversteel shone brightly even in the dimness of the night, and with several swift cuts I sliced through the energies holding the attack spells together, disrupting them and changing them from dangerous explosives into exploding, dissipating clouds of violet sparks of light.

  The Briton, meanwhile, dove out of the circle, spoke a thundering word of power, and sent Karl flying back through the air like a kicked kitten. The näcken screamed furiously and vanished into the darkness.

  I had no time. I surged forward, striking down one deadly comet after another, and with a long lunge, rammed my slender blade into the third Thule’s mouth.

  The blade bit deep, back through the palette and into the skull, and I could suddenly feel the man writhing and spasming through my grip on the sword, a sensation oddly like that of a fish hooking itself to an angler’s line. I twisted the blade and ripped it back in a swirling S-motion, and as it came free of the sorcerer’s mouth it was followed by a fountain of gore.

  I whirled, raising a shield with my left hand, and barely intercepted another strike of sickly green lightning. It exploded into a glowing cobweb pattern just in front of my outstretched hand, little streaks leaping out to scorch and burn the roof, starting half a dozen tiny fires.

  “Grevane!” screamed Page.

  “Drum!” thundered the Briton, even as he raised his hands above his head, his face twisting into a rictus.

  And as swiftly as that, I heard the dry, clicking, rasping sound of the dead beginning to scale the building toward us.

  Terror filled me. My allies were gone, and I was outnumbered two to one, even before one counted the coming terrors. Further, I’d felt the power of Grevane the Briton’s strike firsthand—and the man was no half-trained warlock, or even a senior sorcerer of the Thule Society. Strength like his could only come from one place.

  He was a Wizard of the White Council.

  And then, swift on the heels of my fear came another emotion. Rage, pure and undiluted, rage that this man, this creature, would spurn his responsibility to humanity and distort the power that created the universe itself into something so obscene, so foul.

  He was a warlock. A traitor.

  I flicked my sword into my left hand, then hurled my right hand forward, and a bolt of searing fire no thicker than my pinky finger lashed out at him, blinding in the night. Grevane parried the blow on a shield of his own, and countered with more lightning. I caught part of it on the sword, but what got through was enough to drive me down to one knee and send agony racing back and forth through my nerve endings.

  Even as I fought through the pain, I saw movement in the corner of my eye—the dead, swarming up the building and beginning to haul themselves onto the roof. In seconds, they would tear me apart.

  I gritted my teeth, staggered back to my feet and rushed forward, sword leading the way.

  Grevane gathered more power, but held his strike until the last second, as I closed on him—and then he bellowed something and smashed down at the roof beneath us with pure kinetic energy, opening an enormous gap just in front of me.

  I dove to one side, a bound as light and graceful as any I had ever made, rolled, and felt the horrible, tingling, invasive presence of necromantic energy course over me as I crossed into their summoning circle—and drove my blade straight out to one side and into the heart of Alexander Page.

  The warlock let out a short, croaking gasp. The drumstick fell from his suddenly nerveless hands—and, seconds later, silence reigned, marred only by the dry clatter of bones falling two stories down to the streets of Dodge City.

  I stared at Grevane, crouched, as Page quivered on my sword. My left hand was lifted, a shield of pale blue energy already glowing, ready for the necromancer’s next attack.

  But instead, Grevane tilted his head to one side, his eyes distant. He smiled faintly. Then, without a further word, he simply stepped backward and fell over the edge of the building, dropping silently into the darkness below.

  I ripped the sword free of Page and sprinted to follow him—but by the time I got to the edge and looked down, I saw nothing. Nothing at all, but bones in an empty street.

  I was so focused on Grevane that I didn’t sense the attack coming at my back until it was nearly too late to survive it.

  Pain, simple pain, suddenly fell upon me as if my entire body had suddenly been thrust into a raging fire. I let out a strangled scream, my back arching, and fought to simply keep from plummeting from the roof myself.

  “Bitch,” Page panted. He staggered across the roof, one hand desperately trying to stem a steady pulse of blood from what would be, in a few moments, a fatal wound. “Warden bitch. Dolor igni!”

  Pain wiped everything else from my mind for the space of several seconds. By the time I could see again, I was sprawled back over the edge of the roof, about to fall, and a deathly pale Page stood over me, holding my own sword to my throat.

  “You’ve killed me, bitch,” he gasped. “But I won’t go to hell alone.”

  I tried to thrash aside, to push the blade, but my body simply did not respond to me. Pure, frenzied, helpless terror, the kind I had previously only known in terrible dreams of running through quicksand, surged through me.

  Page let out a frenzied little giggle and leaned on the sword.

  And with a crack of thunder, his head snapped back, into a cloud of misty gore. My sword fell from his fingers, and his body dropped limply down onto his legs, collapsing into an awkward pile.

  I turned my head slowly.

  Wyatt Earp stood on the street below, a trail of nearly headless dis-animated corpses strewn behind him, along with all but the last of the revolvers he’d been carrying.

  He lowered the gun, and touched a finger to the brim of his hat in solemn salute.

  * * *

  “You sure you can’t stay, Miss Anastasia?” Earp asked.

  I shook my head. Karl, now back in his disguise, stamped an angry hoof onto the dirt of Dodge City’s streets as I loaded his saddlebags with fresh supplies. “I’m afraid I can’t. Not with those two still out there.”

  Earp grunted. “I never seen someone so determined to skin himself out of some ropes,” he said. “Who was that German?”

  I felt my mouth twist with distaste, even as a sour taste of fear touched my tongue. “If our information at the White Council is accurate, his name is Kemmler,” I said. “That Briton was one of his apprentices, Grevane.”

  “Bad men?”

  “Some of the most dangerous alive,” I said. “I have to get onto their trail while I still can.”

  He nodded. “I hear you. Shame about that dinner, though.”

  I winked down at him and said, “Perhaps another time.”

  He smiled and tipped his hat slightly. Then he offered me his hand.

  I shook it.

  “Ma’am,” he said. “Think maybe I’d have won that twenty dollars off you.”

  Instead of answering him, I opened my purse, fished out a golden coin and flicked it to him. He caught it, grinning openly. “Have a drink for me, Deputy.”

  “Think maybe I’ll do that,” he said. “Good hunting.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  * * *

  Karl and I headed out of town as the sun began to rise.

  “I’m tired,” the näcken said.

  “As am I, Karl,” I replied.

  “Kemmler,” said the näcken conte
mptuously. “You only found him to spite me. To keep me in this horrible place.”

  “Do not be tiresome,” I sighed. I checked the little leather medicine bag dangling from a thong. Earp had been quite right about Kemmler skinning out of ropes with which he’d been bound. The man had left enough skin behind for me to lock onto him with a tracking spell. The bag swung back and forth gently in the direction the greatest necromancer in the history of man had gone. “We only do our duty.”

  “Duty,” Karl said, disgusted. “I hate this land.”

  “I am not overly fond of it myself,” I replied. “Come. Pick up the pace.”

  Karl broke into a weary jog, and I settled my hat more firmly over my head. The sun began to rise behind us, golden and warm, as we traveled deeper into the West.

  BIOGRAPHIES

  David Boop—Editor

  David Boop is a Denver-based speculative fiction author. He’s also an award-winning essayist, and screenwriter. Before turning to fiction, David worked as a DJ, film critic, journalist, and actor. As Editor-in-Chief at IntraDenver.net, David’s team was on the ground at Columbine making them the first internet only newspaper to cover such an event. That year, they won an award for excellence from the Colorado Press Association for their design and coverage.

  His debut novel, the sci-fi/noir She Murdered Me with Science, is back in print from WordFire Press after a six-year hiatus. Additionally, Dave is prolific in short fiction with over fifty short stories and two short films sold to date. While known for the weird Western series The Drowned Horse Chronicle, he’s published across several genres including horror, fantasy, and media tie-ins for The Green Hornet, The Black Bat and Veronica Mars. His RPG work includes Interface Zero, Rippers Resurrected and Deadlands: Noir for Savage Worlds. David regularly tours the country speaking on writing and publishing at schools, libraries and conventions.

  He’s a single dad, Summa Cum Laude creative writing graduate, part-time temp worker and believer. His hobbies include film noir, anime, the blues and Mayan history. You can find out more on his fanpage, www.facebook.com/dboop.updates or Twitter @david_boop.

  Larry Correia

  Larry Correia is the New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of the Monster Hunter International series, the Grimnoir Chronicles trilogy, the Dead Six military thrillers, and the epic fantasy series Saga of the Forgotten Warrior.

  Jody Lynn Nye

  Jody Lynn Nye lists her main career activity as “spoiling cats.” When not engaged upon this worthy occupation, she writes fantasy and science fiction books and short stories.

  Since 1987 she has published over 45 books and more than 150 short stories, including epic fantasies, contemporary humorous fantasy, and humorous military science fiction, and has edited three anthologies. She collaborated with Anne McCaffrey on a number of books, including the New York Times bestseller, Crisis on Doona. She also wrote eight books with Robert Asprin, and continues both of Asprin’s Myth-Adventures series and Dragons series. Her newest series is the Lord Thomas Kinago adventures, the most recent of which is Rhythm of the Imperium (Baen Books), a humorous military SF novel.

  Her other recent books are Myth-Quoted (Ace Books); Wishing on a Star (Arc Manor Press); an e-collection of cat stories, Cats Triumphant (Event Horizon); Dragons Run (fourth in the Dragons series); and Launch Pad, an anthology of science fiction stories coedited with Mike Brotherton (WordFire). Jody runs the two-day intensive writers’ workshop at DragonCon, and she and her husband, Bill Fawcett, are the book reviewers for Galaxy’s Edge magazine.

  Sam Knight

  A Colorado native, Sam Knight spent ten years in California’s wine country before returning to the Rockies. When asked if he misses California, he gets a wistful look in his eyes and replies he misses the green mountains in the winter, but he is glad to be back home.

  As well as being Distribution Manager for WordFire Press, he is Senior Editor for Villainous Press and the author of four children’s books, three short story collections, two novels, and more than two dozen short stories, including two media tie-ins coauthored with Kevin J. Anderson.

  A stay-at-home father, Sam attempts to be a full-time writer, but there are only so many hours left in a day after kids. Once upon a time, he was known to quote books the way some people quote movies, but now he claims having a family has made him forgetful, as a survival adaptation. He can be found at SamKnight.com and contacted at Sam@samknight.com.

  Robert E. Vardeman

  Robert E. Vardeman is the author of almost a hundred published f&sf novels and scores of short stories. He has written extensively in the Western genre, including many weird Westerns, under the pen name Jackson Lowry. Most recently published is Punished, a weird Western novel trilogy: Undead, Navajo Witches, and Bayou Voodoo. His work has been nominated for the Scribe Award, Western Fictioneers Peacemaker Award and for numerous NM/AZ Book Awards. In addition to his writing, he has edited anthologies such as Baen Books–published Golden Reflections (with Joan Saberhagen) and Career Guide to Your Job in Hell (with Scott Phillips). He holds a BS in physics and an MS in materials engineering and worked in solid state physics research at Sandia National Laboratories. He resides in Albuquerque and enjoys the high-tech hobby of geocaching.

  Phil Foglio

  Phil Foglio is known primarily as a cartoonist, which explains an awful lot about his writing style—as well as his fashion sense, home décor, and the personal interactions he has with his remaining friends.

  With his wife, Kaja, he is the cocreator of the multiple Hugo Award–winning webcomic: Girl Genius (www.girlgeniusonline.com). He has lived on three of America’s four coasts, and is beginning to suspect that he might be addicted to water.

  Nicole Givens Kurtz

  Nicole Givens Kurtz is the published author of the futuristic thriller series, Cybil Lewis, and she’s more than a little bit weird. Her novels have been named as finalists in the Fresh Voices in Science Fiction, EPPIE in Science Fiction, and Dream Realm Awards in science fiction. Nicole’s short stories have earned an Honorable Mention in L. Ron Hubbard’s Writers of the Future contest, and have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications.

  Michael A. Stackpole

  Michael A. Stackpole is the multiple New York Times bestselling author of over forty fantasy and science fiction novels, his best known books written in the Star Wars universe, including I, Jedi and Rogue Squadron, as well as the X-Wing graphic novel series. He has also written in the Conan, Pathfinder, BattleTech and World of Warcraft universes, among others.

  Currently the Virginia G. Piper Center for Creative Writing at Arizona State University Distinguished Writer-in-Residence, Stackpole’s other honors include: Induction into the Academy Gaming Arts and Design Hall of Fame, a Parsec Award for “Best Podcast Short Story,” and a Topps’s selection as Best Star Wars Comic Book Writer. Stackpole is the first author to sell work in Apple’s App Store, and he’s been an advocate for authors taking advantage of the digital revolution.

  Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  Bryan Thomas Schmidt is an author and Hugo-nominated editor of adult and children’s speculative fiction. His debut novel, The Worker Prince received Honorable Mention on Barnes & Noble Book Club’s Year’s Best Science Fiction Releases. His short stories have appeared in magazines, anthologies and online and include entries in The X-Files, Predator, and Decipher’s WARS, amongst others. As book editor for Kevin J. Anderson and Rebecca Moesta’s WordFire Press he edited books by such luminaries as Alan Dean Foster, Tracy Hickman, Frank Herbert, Mike Resnick, Jean Rabe and more. He was also the first editor on Andy Weir’s bestseller The Martian. His anthologies as editor include Shattered Shields with coeditor Jennifer Brozek, Mission: Tomorrow, Galactic Games and Little Green Men—Attack!, all for Baen; as well as Space Battles: Full Throttle Space Tales #6, Beyond the Sun and Raygun Chronicles: Space Opera for a New Age. He is also coediting anthologies with Larry Correia and Jonathan Maberry set in their New York Times bestselling Monster Hunter and Joe
Ledger universes.

  Find him online via his website at www.bryanthomasschmidt.net or as BryanThomasS on both Facebook and Twitter.

  Ken Scholes

  Ken Scholes is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of five novels and over fifty short stories. His work has appeared in print for over sixteen years. His series, The Psalms of Isaak, is published by Tor Books and his collected short fiction has been released in three volumes by Fairwood Press.

  Ken’s eclectic background includes time spent as a label gun repairman, a sailor who never sailed, a soldier who commanded a desk, a preacher (he got better), a nonprofit executive, a musician and a government procurement analyst. He has a degree in History from Western Washington University.

  Ken is a native of the Pacific Northwest and makes his home in Saint Helens, Oregon, where he lives with his twin daughters. You can learn more about Ken by visiting www.kenscholes.com.

  Maurice Broaddus

  Maurice Broaddus is the author of Buffalo Soldier as well as the Knights of Breton Court urban fantasy trilogy: King Maker, King’s Justice, and King’s War. His fiction has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies, including Asimov’s Science Fiction, Lightspeed magazine, Cemetery Dance, Apex Magazine, and Weird Tales magazine. Some of his stories are collected in The Voices of the Martyrs. He coedited Streets of Shadows and the Dark Faith anthology series.

  You can keep up with him at his web site, www.MauriceBroaddus.com.

  Sarah A. Hoyt

  Sarah A. Hoyt was born (and raised) in Portugal and now lives in Colorado with her husband, two sons, and a variable number of cats, depending on how many show up to beg at the door.