by A. M. Burns
Will destroying the bodies end their torment? He knew that many tribes burned the bodies of the dead so that the soul wouldn’t have a place to try to return to. It was a process that helped force the spirits into the underworld and into the next life.
None of the spirit shamans had the gift of fire, but fire was one of the things Singing Crow had taught him to create with his thoughts. He could only do small flames, but with a bit of air applied correctly, it might be enough. Trey focused on the thing with the missing tooth. It took all his concentration to keep whistling while he called the spark that set the thing’s dry beard ablaze. With a slight change in tune, he forced a light wind down toward it. Like a man blowing on a coal to get a campfire going, he focused the wind just enough that it fanned the flames and didn’t put them out.
The thick smoke blowing up off it reeked of burned meat. It never uttered a word or a scream—nothing. The unliving thing didn’t even try to beat the flames out. It just continued to shamble along, attempting to reach Trey, who managed to stay out of reach on the winds that blew him east. For long minutes the thing blazed. Its clothes and skin were dry and brittle enough that they burned easily, but it wasn’t until the dried bones began to burn that it even slowed down.
More of the things kept coming at him. Trey wished he were more experienced with using air and could blow himself faster toward the bunkhouse. Something told him that if he landed and tried to make a run for it anywhere other than the road, the things would be on him before he could get away. He didn’t have his father’s rifle; he didn’t have his new pistol or even his hunting knife. All he had was magic, and that was a slow process for stopping the things.
Angling his flight more toward the south, Trey realized the path between the gate and the house was closer than the house. He could only hope that now that they were after him, the things wouldn’t be able to follow him once he was near the house. With his heart pounding and sweat running down his face, he whistled faster, envisioning the winds carrying him along at a greater speed. They listened. Seconds later he flew as fast as a running horse. It makes sense. I have to visualize and whistle to get things to work. The ground passed under him at an ever-increasing speed.
The air spirits seemed as eager to get away from the unliving things as he was. Several times, without him visualizing it, he changed course. He looked down and through his magical light saw that he was bypassing some of the grave mounds. How many of them are out here? And can McNair make a metal man out of each one?
Several hundred yards from the edge of the path, the grave mounds stopped. Trey looked back to the north. Through his mage light, he couldn’t see any more of the things after him. Just for safety, and because he didn’t see his horse anywhere nearby, he kept whistling and flying until he could see the green pasture west of the barn. When he slowed his tune, the winds gently returned him to earth. He hadn’t spotted his horse the whole flight home and hoped it had made it back in one piece. He wasn’t sure if the things went after every living thing they encountered or just people. Then he recalled the few cows he’d seen in the area during his previous rides along the road.
With heavy, tired feet, he started toward the bunkhouse after extinguishing his magical light. As he entered the area lit by gaslights that Josh turned on every day about sundown, someone called out.
“Hey, Trey, did you lose your horse?”
He turned toward the voice. Josh walked out of the main barn.
“Sure did. Why, did you find him?”
“Came in just as I was closing up the barn,” Josh replied. “He was lathered something fierce.”
“I went out for a ride, figured to get away for a bit. I forgot it was dark of the moon. Something out there spooked him. He caught me by surprise and left me in the dust.”
“Well, you owe me. I got him brushed out and gave him a bit of feed. He’s calmed down now.”
“Thanks,” Trey replied, waiting for the short cowboy to reach him. “I was hoping he made it back. I’d love to know what spooked him.”
“How far out were ya?” Josh fell into step, and they headed for the bunkhouse together.
Trey shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Maybe about halfway to the gate.”
“Wow, did you get off the path?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, don’t ever do that, particularly not at night.” A quiver of fear stood out in his voice. “I don’t know what’s out there. Most of us figure it’s something that McNair conjured up. Some of the other guys think it’s the spirits of all those injuns they killed back during the fight for the wall. I don’t leave the lit areas after dark. I’ve never seen them come past the green, or over the road, but I ain’t taking no chances.”
“If you two are finished goofing around out there, the rest of us are ready to turn out the lights in here,” Charlie called from the bunkhouse door.
Trey didn’t say anything else as he made it to his bunk and lay down. His mind raced, hoping to find an answer on how to deal with the metal men and the hollow shells McNair left from their creation. Maybe his new spirit shaman allies could help.
31
“MCNAIR, CALL off your metal men and surrender!” Sheriff Derr shouted from the boardwalk in front of his office.
“Not until you give me the injun that can change into a white man!” McNair shouted back. “You can’t hurt my metal men, Sheriff, and if anyone gets hurt here, it’s going to be you and that injun, so you’d best turn him over to me, turn around, and go home. You don’t want your wife to become a widow tonight, do you?”
Gray Talon wished Trey was there. The mage might have an idea or two on how to deal with the metal men and McNair without other people getting hurt. “Sheriff, any ideas?” he whispered.
Derr frowned. “Not a one, but I ain’t turning you over to him. This is still America, and just because he thinks he’s above the law doesn’t mean I do.” He paused and took a breath. “McNair, you’ve crossed the line this time. Now I might not be able to hurt your metal men, but the last time I checked, a bullet would still take you out. So surrender peacefully, tell your men to stand down, and you won’t leave here in a pine box.”
The building shook, and then the front of it exploded outward onto the street. Three of the metal men strolled out of the wreckage. One of them was nearly twice the size of the other two. McNair’s head poked out from between the construct’s shoulders, covered by a large copper helmet.
McNair laughed. “Sheriff, I don’t think your bullets are going to hurt me either.”
“Indian, I advise that you run, fly, or do whatever you can to get out of here,” Sheriff Derr said.
Gray Talon gulped. He knew neither he nor the sheriff would be able to stop McNair as long as he was in the giant metal suit. He turned and changed into an eagle. It might be dark out, but if he flew right, he could still navigate enough to elude the earth mage. He only hoped that Sarah hadn’t been noticed, did the right thing, and hid.
Winds buffeted him. It was harder to get altitude at night when the air was cool. He beat his wings, struggling to get above the buildings that lined the main street. Behind him gunfire rang out. Bullets zipped past him unseen, but by their sound, they were entirely too close for comfort.
The sound of heavy footfalls followed him as he flew north. He didn’t want to lead them to their camp at the butte, but Copperpot might be able to do something to help stop the newer models. Unfortunately the construct didn’t need a fire, either for light or to stay warm. Gray Talon wouldn’t be able to find the cave in eagle form. When he got close, he’d have to change into something that could either see in the dark or hear where it was going.
Heavy pursuit never fell completely away. Gray Talon knew Copperpot had very good night vision, so it was a pretty good bet the other constructs did too. In the distance the butte jutted up as a dark shadow against the star-filled sky. Waiting until it filled his vision, Gray Talon changed from his golden eagle form to a barn owl. The dark world lit up and e
very sound was magnified a thousandfold. The heavy footfalls of the constructs became deafening, nearly drowning out everything else. Behind them came three galloping horses. Ahead of him he sensed the more restrained movements of the horses they’d left at camp.
“Copperpot!” Gray Talon shouted as he shifted back to human and landed in the mouth of the cave. “We’ve got trouble coming hot on my feathers.”
“Master Gray Talon.” The construct stood from where he’d been kneeling not far from the horses. “What is the problem?”
“McNair is following me. He’s got two metal men with him, and he’s in some kind of armor, a copper suit.”
“The creator comes here?” Copperpot glanced around, showing a visible sign of nervousness. “The ground shakes with their running footsteps. This is not good. I had hoped that Master Trey would be able to help me find out who I was before we faced the creator.”
“Unfortunately he saw that I can change shape and he wants to kill me, the way he does all of the People.”
“You are a good person, Master Gray Talon. Let us take this fight to them before they discover our camp.” The construct moved quickly out of the cave mouth and started down the slope.
Across the open plain near the foot of the butte, starlight sparkled off the metal men as they ran forward. They were so shiny that even the huge cloud of dust they kicked up didn’t stop the stars from shining off them.
“If we can take out the metal men, maybe McNair will be easier,” Gray Talon said. “Let’s see if they can stop a buffalo.” He shifted, hoping the moonless night might make it harder for the constructs to spot his dark hide until it was too late.
“I’m right behind you, Master Gray Talon,” Copperpot said as the two of them charged down the slope.
The metal men either didn’t spot the buffalo charging at them or didn’t care. Gray Talon managed to hit one hard. He knocked it off its feet and through the air several yards, although the impact left his head ringing.
Copperpot grappled with the second one. “There is no need to fight with me, brother. Master Trey is trying to find a way to make us free. We were something else before we were these constructs.”
“Number One!” McNair shouted. “Where have you been, Number One? Who has been filling your mind with such nonsense? You were nothing before I created you. All of you were nothing! I gave you life!”
With the construct under his hooves motionless, Gray Talon shifted from buffalo to bear and used his massive claws to pull it apart. The shift helped clear his head.
“You may have created this form I now wear, but I was someone else before I was Copperpot!” Gray Talon had never heard the construct so adamant before. He wondered if the metal man had spent the past couple of days thinking about some of the things Trey had told him. Can it be that just giving him the ideas awakened something deeper? The construct he fought remained silent. Then it struck him. Other than Copperpot, all the constructs were silent.
McNair’s metal suit swung down at Copperpot. The construct dodged and pulled the one he struggled with into the path of the oncoming fist. The blow knocked both creations backward, with Copperpot ending up on the bottom.
“You were nothing before you were my first creation,” McNair railed. “I don’t know who this Trey is that has put these thoughts in you. You shouldn’t have any thoughts beyond what I programmed into you. But you were different from the others. You were flawed. That’s why I lost you in that card game. I had to get rid of you in case your flaws somehow infected the others.”
With a final rendering of a leg, Gray Talon finished tearing apart the construct. Metal parts still twitched, like a body after the head had been removed. He could only hope the movement would stop after a few minutes because he needed to take out McNair.
With a roar of fury, Gray Talon, still in bear form, launched himself at McNair’s armored form. His claws raked the armor, digging deep grooves into the thick copper. It was heavier than Copperpot’s body, and his claws had little effect.
McNair swung a hand down and caught him in the side of the head. He flew a short distance away. His head was ringing again as he regained his feet.
“You stay out of this!” McNair yelled. “I need your secrets, but first I have to discipline my wayward child. Number One, I created you, and like anything I create, I can destroy you.”
As the familiar taste of magic filled the air, Gray Talon shed his bear form for the shape of a great horned owl. While his silent wings carried him upward, his sharp ears caught the sound of two horses running not far away. He hoped it was the sheriff and Sarah.
“What are you doing?” Copperpot screamed.
“Unmaking you,” McNair replied. “When I lost you in the card game, I couldn’t bring myself to do this. You were special. But now… now you are an irritant that I must do away with.”
Gray Talon screamed. The eerie cry of the owl rang across the land at the foot of the butte. He drove needle-sharp talons into McNair’s head where it stuck out above the shoulders of the metal suit.
A metal fist caught his fragile bird form. Several bones in his wings shattered, and he lost his hold on the man’s flesh. The ground rushed up, and he hit hard. As his consciousness fled, he shifted back to his human form. He screamed as the bones in his arms and chest painfully reformed. More pain than he had ever endured surged through him. For a moment he wasn’t aware of anything but the burning agony.
Bullets ricocheted off McNair’s metal form as Gray Talon became aware of the world again. His body hurt like it never had before when he shifted. For a moment he wondered how much damage he’d been able to repair from the shift. How close had he come to dying at McNair’s hands? A two-form who was killed in animal form stayed dead in human form too. He didn’t know if that was true for a multiform as well.
“McNair, stand down!” the sheriff shouted.
“You killed Copperpot!” Sarah screamed.
Gray Talon couldn’t tell which of them was firing, but the bullets didn’t seem to be doing any damage, and they were coming uncomfortably close to him.
McNair screamed right after the sound of a bullet striking flesh rolled through the night. The ground shook violently as Gray Talon tried to regain his feet. He felt like he was trying to stand on the waves of a large lake or run across the back of a falling herd of buffalo.
“You will never understand!” McNair yelled. Dust exploded outward, covering everything around them. Gray Talon turned his face away, hoping to avoid some of the dust. Horses whinnied in fear as the cloud engulfed them.
“Damn it, McNair!” Sheriff Derr shouted.
The shaking intensified for several minutes and then stopped as the dust settled. McNair was gone.
“Are you all right?” Sarah ran over to Gray Talon.
“Hurt like crazy, but I think I’ll be fine. Where’s Copperpot?” He glanced around for their metal friend.
“In a puddle over there.” Sarah pointed up the hill where he’d been struggling with the other construct.
Gray Talon wished they had more light as he stumbled up the slope toward where he’d last seen the metal man. A large pool of copper lay amid the rocks there. It looked like McNair had used his earth magic to melt both of the constructs. All that was left was a large oval of copper and rocks shiny enough to sparkle in the starlight.
He stepped back and stared in disbelief. “How could he do that? He created Copperpot.”
“McNair’s gotten more ruthless the past few years,” the sheriff said, walking over to look at the melted copper. “But was he right? Aren’t these things just stuff he’s cobbling together in his workshop?”
Gray Talon shook his head as Sarah knelt down to touch the cooling copper. “No. Trey said they have souls, maybe even souls stolen from dead people. He’s trying to find out a way to undo it and set them free.”
“Do you think that Copperpot’s soul is free?” Sarah asked. “Or is it still trapped in the copper?”
He placed a gentle
hand on her shoulder. “We won’t know for sure until Trey has a chance to look at this with his magic. We can only hope that when McNair destroyed them, he destroyed what was holding them to their metal bodies and they could go back to the underworld where they belong.”
“We never found out who Copperpot was,” she said softly.
“If he’s the same Copperpot that used to work at the saloon, I always thought he looked a little too much like McNair’s brother, Seth,” Sheriff Derr said.
“What happened to Seth?” Gray Talon asked.
“He was killed in the first battle of the wall. It’s why McNair hates your people so much.”
“If that’s the case, then he just killed his brother again,” Sarah said as she stood up and turned away from the copper remains.
“Only a very unstable man could kill his own kin after bringing him back from the dead once,” Gray Talon said. A cold feeling crept into his heart as he looked at the dark eastern sky, toward the ranch where Trey now worked, not knowing exactly how unstable McNair really was.
32
THE BUNKHOUSE shook hard enough that most everyone ended up rolling onto the floor.
“What in the hell was that?” Josh asked as he stood up.
Dusting himself off, Trey had a good idea that it was McNair but didn’t bother saying anything beyond “No idea.”
“Well, let’s get out there and check on the critters,” Charlie said, grabbing his jeans from the end of his bunk.
Chaotic energies rolled around the open space between the bunkhouse and the main house. What must’ve been a massive dust cloud was still trying to settle. In the center of all of it, a large headless construct lifted McNair off its shoulder and placed him gently on the torn-up ground at its feet. A hole, large enough that the construct could’ve come out of it, was right behind its feet. Once McNair was on the ground, the construct stopped moving. Blood dripped down McNair’s face. The man looked like he’d been attacked by a large bird of prey.
