Alarum (Walking Shadows Book 1)

by Talis Jones

  Suddenly I find myself standing on my knees. The young shooter dashes over and crouches before me. “You need to wrap that wound,” he says in a pleasantly dark voice.

  I begin to agree but adrenaline comes back like the crest of a rollercoaster and I ride it back down. Swallowing vomit I leap to my feet. Slamming a knee in the stranger’s jaw I hold the gun aimed steadily at his head. “Who are you?” I bark.

  A click turns my attention and I see a tall copper-skinned woman with long straight black hair staring me down the barrel of a rifle. “Drop the gun,” she orders. She looks to be in her late-twenties but the intensity of her glare ages her solidly in the world of adulthood, grown and serious.

  “Stand down,” the man beseeches cautiously. “Both of you.” When neither of us make a move he sighs. “Rosh, drop it. I know her.”

  Now this gets our attention and then some. Slowly we lower our firearms and give him one hell of an expectant stare.

  “You know her?” Rosh asks with strong disbelief.

  I search his eyes which are locked on mine but don’t see a sign of a trick. “You know me?” I ask quietly. The odds of it are so ridiculous that I beg for it to be true. Or not true. But I don’t think he’s an enemy, so I hope it’s true.

  “My name is Riker,” he begins and I cut him off.

  “I don’t know anyone named Riker,” I tell him. The disappointment that sinks in my stomach is surprisingly heavy and it threatens to collapse me back down to my knees. Everyone who knew my name is dead or long gone. The loss of Connors rushes back to me and my eyes find his empty form once more.

  On sea legs of mourning I trudge to his side, look down for a moment, sniffle once, then leave. I walk to Horse still tied to a dead tree with the others. I slip a shovel from its harness and drift to a flat area with few rocks. Strike, scoop, toss. Strike, scoop, toss. Strike, scoop, toss.

  With the strength still in my muscles I dig. I dig until sweat drenches my back and my brow. I dig until the rhythm settles in my bones and memories start spouting up free and unasked for. I bat down each one that surfaces. I will save them for later. Right now I dig. I dig and dig and dig. I dig until the memories stop coming and my mind floats in an abyss of peace. It’s just me and the earth.

  When I go to drag Connors into his not quite six-foot deep bed Riker comes to my side and helps. I don’t look at him in the ground. I don’t want that to be a memory. Far more quickly than it took to dig I shift the dirt over the body and find myself exhausted, staring at an honest grave. I roll a few large rocks over to mark the spot.

  I’m aware of Rosh and Riker watching me, hovering behind me unsure of what to do but somehow knowing not to start pestering me with talk. As I stand over Connors’ grave in silence tears prick my eyes. Tears course down, silent, apologetic, cool and pearly. Then unbidden Connors’ favorite hymn sidles out my throat and to my utter shock after a verse Riker joins me.

  So we sing. We sing to Connors. We sing because he believed in Heaven and we sing so he won’t be sad and we sing so I won’t be sad.

  So we sing.

  As I went down in the river to pray

  Studying about that good old way

  And who shall wear the starry crown

  Good Lord, show me the way

  O sinners, let's go down

  Let's go down, come on down

  O sinners, let's go down

  Down in the river to pray

  Good Lord, show me the way

  I’d put my faith in myself. I’d put my faith in Connors. But putting your faith in a person isn’t bulletproof. Connors hadn’t let me down, but he had. And as his favorite hymn drifts across this land of dust and bones I finally feel something in the words, something I don’t think I understand but maybe I’ll try putting my faith in something bigger, something greater. I’ll try, for Connors. For Connors I’ll search for Sanctuary. For Connors I’ll keep going. But he won’t be my anchor anymore. He’s not strong enough and I get that now.

  We live in a world of dust and retribution. From dust we were born and to dust we will return, but while there is life in our lungs then blood will warm our hands, gold will dazzle our eyes, fear will shield our hearts, and memories will anchor our sorrows. In this world of dust and retribution I will pick up my guns of adamant and carry on.

  PART II

  GUNS OF ADAMANT

  CHAPTER 28

  Three bodies rest beneath the dust. Three men from different places, different families, different paths, and in the end they lie side by side forced to move on from this earth. Forced to give up their dreams, their struggles, their promises, their lies, their desires, and their madness. A tendril of sadness for Connors still coils gently in my chest yet I look towards the horizon and I feel…nothing. I gave him tears and I gave him song. He has moved on and now so will I.

  “Whose guitar is this?”

  I turn around and see Riker examining the beautifully polished caramel wood of Yuri’s instrument. “Do you play?”

  Riker shrugs. “I used to, but I had to leave my guitar behind…”

  “You can keep that if you want.” Riker grins and the sight purrs the sadness in me down to a mournful whisper. My eyes snap towards Connors’ horse. “Hey!” Sprinting towards Horse I shove Rosh away roughly. “I said you can take anything you want except from the black horse’s packs.”

  Rosh crosses her arms and light condescension sparks in her face. “There’s good stuff we can use in there. We spared you, now you owe us.”

  I brush aside her stinging words and match her icy stare. “I owe you nothing. Everything here belongs to me.”

  Challenge ignites in her stance but I give her no chance. The moment she reaches out for one of Katya’s gleaming guns I punch her square in the jaw, a hit that makes her stumble as I hiss in pain. Her jaw is harder than I expected.

  Claws out, Rosh rushes me. Slamming into my middle she hurls me to the dirt where I swiftly shove my knee up into her gut as her weight pushes me down. Rolling away I barely get my feet under myself before she grabs a fistful of hair and yanks me back to the ground. I manage to twist her wrist enough to break her grip, sparing her bones, then swift as lightning I knock her to her knees and pull out a knife, pressing cold steel to her pulsing throat.

  Rosh sneers. “Never bring a knife to a gun fight, kid.” With a steady hand she goes to snatch her handgun from her belt only to find it gone. A sharp click catches her attention.

  “I didn’t,” I spit quietly. I press the barrel of her own gun into her belly and dare her to move. Give me an excuse…

  The thought startles me. How did I become so cold? When did I become this person? Stepping back slowly I release her. A single bead of blood runs down her throat but nothing more.

  “Well, if you two are finished…” Riker chides with amusement in his midnight eyes.

  I don’t laugh. I look him right in the eye. “Don’t. Touch. Connors’. Things.”

  His smile slides off and his eyes turn grave. “I promise.”

  Nodding I turn back to Horse and start sniffing through his packs. I’ve no idea where I’ll go or what I’ll do. Roam the Dakotas ‘til I die? I toss out Connors’ clothes, too big to be of any use to me. His guns, ammo, camping gear, and food I keep. Suddenly it hits me that I buried Connors with the secret to Sanctuary. I’d completely forgotten about it. Resting my head against Horse’s saddle with a frustrated smack I let out a heavy sigh, perhaps it’s better this way.

  I glance between Horse and Lady. I hate to split them up but I can only take one.

  “Could you spare a horse for me?” Riker walks up, a bit wary of upsetting me and getting his own hide tanned.

  “You travel with no horse?” I ask incredulous.

  “No way. My mare turned a leg and had to be let go. I’ve been riding with Rosh.”

  I eye him carefully. He says he knows me but I just can’t remember him. Maybe he’s lying or maybe he’s not but either way he saved my life. And I can’t take all
the animals with me. I give him another calculating look as I judge him to his bones but at last I nod. “You can take Connors’ ride. He’s the best of the lot besides my own.”

  Surprise flickers in Riker’s eyes but he’s quick to tamp it down, choosing not to question my gift. Stepping forwards he reaches out and gently strokes the beast’s soft nose. “What’s his name?”

  “Horse.”

  A pause. A grin. A trickle of amused laughter that rings like an explosion in my ears. “Brilliant name. I’ll keep it.”

  “I’d never let you change it,” I glare. Deep down a smile tugs within me but I’m not ready yet. Not quite yet.

  Riker gestures to my hands, bloodied and raw from digging three graves for grown men. “You should really clean that and bandage it. You might get scars.”

  “Good.”

  Riker frowns. “Come.” He sets off but when he sees I’m not following he gives me an amused look. “Come on,” he invites.

  I don’t move.

  “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

  I wait and true to his word he returns, a canteen and pouch in hand. He invites me to sit beside him on the ground and waits patiently for me to comply. I do, with a roll of my eyes. I do not need a nurse.

  Reaching out he takes my hand and unfurls its angry fingers. Pouring cool water into my palm he gently blots away the dried blood with a cloth. Fishing a tube out of his bag he spreads a pungent herbal ointment over the sores before wrapping my palm carefully in strips of bandage. I let him repeat the process on my other hand.

  With skillful fingers he brushes damp strands of hair from my face, carefully prying them from the sticky wound on the side of my head. He cleans the wound swiftly as I watch the horizon with unease. Despite my protests he wraps a bandage around my head. Another surge of dizziness undermines my argument, although gratefully it's less powerful than before.

  Kneeling before me he knots the gauze. His eyes remain focused on his task while mine wander curious as to why a stranger is being so kind.

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  “You’re welcome.” His eyes lock onto mine and they’re so dark I can see myself reflected in them. I wonder what he sees.

  “I—”

  “You should come with us,” he breathes.

  “What?”

  “Travel with us,” he invites again, this time returned to an attitude of aloofness. “Unless you’ve someplace to go.”

  Briefly I think of Sanctuary but the letter is gone and I’m not sure I’m ready for it anyway. A spark of fear taps me in the stomach as I realize that I have nothing and no one. I used to daydream about traveling alone with no master but myself. I was foolish. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be lost.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  Riker grins mischievously. “Everywhere.”

  I purse my lips in thought. “I’d like to see everywhere.”

  Clasping a calloused hand on my shoulder like a promise he searches my face. “Then you’ll come.” I nod my head. “So, you know that firecracker is Rosh and handsome young me is Riker. What do you call yourself?”

  My brow furrows. “I thought you know me?”

  “Nah. I knew you, but the girl I ran into today is different.”

  I cast my eyes downward. “I’m not so different,” I murmur.

  “You are. That man held a gun to your heart loaded with a bullet with your name on it and you didn’t flinch. Not once.”

  My head snaps up with surprise cracking every calm feature on my face. “You were there?” I breathe stunned.

  “I know who you were, but I’m asking who are you now?” Riker’s deep brown eyes reach out to mine as if searching for the soul that lies behind their green glass windows. “What shall I call you?”

  I force myself to look away so I can think. His gaze is too sharp and it clogs my senses. I’ve had many names and each one could have been my last. I rode with Connors for nigh a year and a half but never chose a name. I was nameless. I was a nameless wraith wandering the empty earth. No more. I will choose a name. I will choose a path. I will choose a death. I will choose a ghost to leave behind.

  A whisper from Connors’ grave floats through my heart and it calls up an image. I see a flowering cactus, brought to life by no more than Connors’ words from a long ride months ago. A plant that embraces the desert’s grip, flourishes in it. From the desert’s dry maw it blooms strong and beautiful.

  But as soon as the image rises it’s set aflame and crumbles.

  No.

  In its place I hear a story shared around a campfire, a story from the Greeks, a story that had held me in awe. I taste fire and ash. I see blood and innocence. I hear the beat of their wings and the call of their cry.

  “Fury,” I smile. “I’ve had many names, but you may call me Fury.”

  “Fury,” he muses like he’s tasting the sound on his tongue. I can’t help but notice that when he says my name it sounds more like a caress than the threat it stands for. Riker smiles back at me. “I hope one day you will share those names and the girl that belongs to each one.”

  “Perhaps. And maybe one day you’ll tell me how you know me, how you could possibly still recognize me. I must have known you but…”

  “You don’t remember me.” A twinge of sadness in his smile gives him away. “It’s okay. I’ll share that story when we’re dying from boredom on the road,” he winks.

  Standing up he holds out a hand to help me to my feet. I don’t need it but I appreciate the offer and take it. I turn to gather my claims from the pile of bags at Horse’s feet when I see Rosh rooting around like a badger. With a huff of anger I stride over on silent steps and her eyes only have time to widen in surprise before I’ve pistol-whipped her and knocked her unconscious in one blow.

  Yuri and Jaycen’s horses have been relieved of their tack and set loose. Riker finished taking what they needed or wanted from their belongings before filling Connors’ bags and seating himself atop Horse with Rosh propped unconscious between his arms. Lady tosses her head impatiently, seeming to take pride with the extra bags strapped to her now.

  Riker sets off at a trot while I linger behind and murmur a last goodbye to Connors. With a swift kick Lady bolts after Horse and we follow him all the way to a rough camp set up nearby hidden by rocks and a few tired trees. Riker drags Rosh to her bedroll and settles into camp easily while I hesitate atop Lady and breathe deeply. This is the path I’ve chosen. We shall see where it leads.

  CHAPTER 29

  “What…” groans a female voice.

  “She’s up!” Riker cheers. “Good to know you’re not dead, Rosh.”

  “Please. Stop shouting,” she grunts as she hauls herself to a sitting position. “Where did—” Her eyes find mine across the fire and they narrow with cold fury. “You,” she hisses.

  “Now now,” Riker intervenes. “No more fighting between you two. Rosh, our duo is now a trio. Fury is a part of our team so you’re just going to have to figure out a way to get along.” He turns his stern gaze to me. “And no more knocking people unconscious. Well, at least not us. Got it?”

  I shrug. “Got it.” It’s not like I have anything against Rosh, she simply didn’t respect my orders.

  “Rosh?”

  Golden brown eyes tear themselves from my face and meet Riker’s. “No more fighting,” she promises.

  The late afternoon sun looks down at us with boredom at our squabbles and seems to hurry in its descent. Cheap noodles cook in a pot over the fire. I inhale the salty broth with a smile and my stomach rumbles approvingly. Riker passes out bowls and we huddle around the flames as the light fades.

  “So, who are you exactly?” I ask followed by a slurp of noodles. “Roamers?”

  “Not exactly,” Riker hedges.

  “Yes exactly,” Rosh disagrees. “We ride where we want when we want and if something catches our eye on the way we see to it that it appears in our pocket.”

  “So you’re thiev
es?” My mind flashes to Yuri’s confession and I begin to question my choice. “You just go around taking whatever the hell you want from anyone who crosses your path?”

  Rosh smiles proudly, seemingly pleased at my disgust. “Yep.”

  “No.” Riker casts Rosh a warning glare. “We only take what we need. If we can pay then we do, but we won’t starve. I’ve had enough of that. The world may not owe us anything but the people here do. They owe us for not standing against the Corrals, against Lucas Helmsworth, against the shit that’s hit the fan. So I make sure I get what they owe. They keep me alive, fed, and comfortable.”

  Memories tug at my mind but I shove them away. “What about you?” My gaze lands on Rosh. “What’s feeding you?”

  She tilts her head, regarding me carefully. “Just greed, plain and simple. Riker might steal necessities but I take whatever my heart fancies. I ride through this country with no greater pleasure than sticking thorns in the paws of Lucas Helmsworth.”

  Part of me from long long ago chants that stealing is wrong. But it’s this world that is wrong. Everything is wrong. And I find that I’m too exhausted to care. “So what are you two doing this far north? In the unclaimed territories no less. There are few towns this way and no Lucas to annoy.”

  “Surviving,” Riker says, closing the topic.

  I lean back and eye them intently. Sometimes silence works better than words. I’m curious about these two strangers and I want to know who I’ll be riding with. My eyes brush over their clothes and gear, taking it in more closely despite the setting sun. Beneath the dust their clothes have no holes and their guns shine with pride. Whatever game they played paid them well.