Thorn the Bounty Hunter in The Amber Bones

by Brom Kearne

25

  The light blue dawn was clearing away the purple night sky in preparation for the sun’s daily journey when an alarm was raised throughout the camp, rousing everyone from their slumber. Melina was up early to make sure that everything was in order, from checking on the weapons in their hiding place, to checking on Thorn. The weapons were in their proper place, having been moved from the cave and hidden inside David Scontz’ tent. Thorn, however, was not in his proper place. Melina found instead her trusted guard Mark looking up at her from between the bars.

  Melina flew to the alarm bell to awaken everyone quickly, and left instructions for David Scontz to see that everyone was gathered in front of Court Raleigh’s tent, as this was an emergency. Then she went back inside Court’s tent to break the news to him.

  Court Raleigh did not take the news well, and responded by striking her across the cheek and sending her reeling. “I wanted to shoot him last night and be done with him,” Court shouted.

  “I thought doing so would undermine your authority. Those people were dangerously close to a mutiny last night as it was. Killing him in the pit from a position of authority would have made a stronger statement.”

  “He will have left tracks. I want him found. And Melina, I hold you personally responsible for his escape.”

  Melina touched her cheek, her icy blue eyes betraying the hurt behind them, as she was more injured by the rebuke than she was by the backhand. She left to organize a search party, led by David Scontz, to scour the camp and find evidence of where Thorn might have disappeared to. What she found, however, upon seeing the gang gathered together and awaiting Court Raleigh’s appearance, was more disturbing than Thorn’s disappearance. Over a third of the gang was not present, and after questioning some of those that were, it became apparent that they had absconded in the early hours of the morning out of a combination of fear of the coming battle with the trade caravan, and a loss of respect for their leader.

  Inside his tent Court Raleigh, oblivious to the betrayal of a large chunk of his gang, knelt to question Scott Tanning about Thorn’s disappearance. Scott had passed the night in discomfort, having been chained to the floor and whipped for information. The whipping had produced the opposite of its intended effect on the boy, as it had only strengthened his resentment for the man administering it. He had not confessed to his part in helping Thorn escape, but had kept to his story that he didn’t know Thorn, and had only met him a few times in the past. If his father had hired Thorn to find him, it was his father’s business and not his own. Scott maintained that he wanted to be a member of the gang, even though uttering the words were like passing poison over his tongue. The more Court Raleigh had whipped him, the sterner Scott Tanning became in his resolution, and eventually Court was satisfied that Scott was not lying.

  Scott passed the night in great pain from the broken tracts of skin across his back, but he did not cry. He had passed through a crucible, and he had emerged stronger for it. This morning he held Court Raleigh’s unnerving gaze and said, “I told you I had nothing to do with Thorn. I was here all night, so I couldn’t have helped him escape.”

  “Perhaps not,” Court said thoughtfully. “But you are valuable to him. I shall keep you close in case he comes back for you, and this time I will not allow anyone to stay my hand from killing him. But my instincts are that he has abandoned you, and abandoned his hunt. He is, after all, a mercenary, and they must weigh the cost of doing business against the reward that they will receive. In this case, the cost is simply too great for him. He’ll have run along back to the Western Frontier, and will be looking for more suitable bounties for his ability.”

  Scott’s doubt betrayed him as his face blanched. He had not considered, throughout the night, as his broken skin kept him from sleep, that Thorn would abandon him. Hearing Court Raleigh speak, though, it sounded perfectly logical, and he began to consider if this wasn’t the course that Thorn had actually taken. If he had, then there was no hope. Scott would die, and the surety of that knowledge began to fill him with a quiet fatalism. His time with the Amber Bones Gang had been a nightmare, and he began to wish that, like a bad dream, it would pass out of his consciousness, and if that meant eliminating his consciousness entirely, then so be it. At least the ordeal would be over with.

  Court Raleigh began dressing and applying his make-up and eye drops with meticulous detail. Despite his cold and logical words, he was seething on the inside from the injury that Thorn had dealt him. He could pretend and wear a calm veneer when he needed to, but he was nearly always boiling with anger these days. But transforming himself into a folkloric figure of terror was soothing to him. Although he had tattooed himself extensively over the years, he could still see enough of the remnants of Paul Browning in the mirror to make him remember the betrayal during his childhood which had left him a shivering, frightened, and starving little boy in the wilderness. He could still feel the cold grip upon his heart when he had realized that his family was going to save his brother, but not him. The memory disgusted him, but as he applied the make-up, the eye drops, the stilts, and the ragged clothing, he was able to cover those deeply ingrained insecurities, the hopelessness, and the terror, as he became something else entirely. He became, as he saw himself, the terrifying spirit of vengeance itself.

  When Court Raleigh stood towering in his macabre regalia, Scott Tanning cowered. It was a small action, and more of a reflex than anything else, but it brought a smile to Court’s tattooed amber lips. This was the only response he wanted from people: abject fear. And they would fear him when he got through. That much was certain. His smile faltered, however, as Melina met him at the entrance of the tent. Her face told him that there was more bad news on the way. Court ground his teeth at the sight of her, and resisted striking her again.

  “Court wait, there’s something you should know,” she said.

  “I will not have more negativity from you on this, our glorious day of revolution,” he replied as he pushed her aside.

  Court did not make as terrifying a figure in the morning sun as he did framed by his torches at night. This was to be the first time he had ever come out during the day to appear before his gang, but it could not be helped. In order to be in place at Webster Grove before the trade caravan came through, they would need to leave within a few hours. He stepped down the slope from his tent to the throne to meet the assembled gang around the pit. Melina followed him closely at his heels.

  Court stopped short of mounting his throne as he scanned the assembly and found a good number of them missing.

  “I wanted you to assemble the entire gang,” he hissed at Melina.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” she said from behind him. “Over a third of them deserted in the early morning. They’re gone.”

  Court’s jaw clenched and his amber eyes blazed. “Deserted?”

  Melina nodded. “Perhaps we should think of calling off the raid tonight. We won’t have enough bodies.”

  “WE WILL NOT,” Court shouted and his voice rolled over the sandy bowl, making those in attendance cower.

  While nearly everyone cowered at the sudden and unexpected burst of anger, none cowered more than Mark, who was held in chains by David Scontz near the top of the stairs that led into the pit. He had been blubbering so much that David had finally stuffed a gag into his mouth. At Court Raleigh’s outburst, he nearly fainted.

  “It is always a difficult process to expunge the weakness in ourselves,” Court Raleigh said, mounting his throne and adopting the cadence in his voice he used so often to deliver his speeches. “It is excruciatingly painful. We began expunging our weakness when I killed Tom Marron, one of my closest and most trusted allies. It showed me that my trust had been misplaced. And now we continue our painful process as we awaken to find ourselves abandoned by people that we all once trusted and called members of our family. But those who have fled as cowards have left the rest of us stronger, and it is with this strength that we will ride victoriously against the Brown
ing Trade Caravan this evening. Those of you who remain are my most loyal servants and you will be rewarded not just for your strength, but for your obedience. To the victors go the spoils, and only those strong enough to seize the opportunity will be victorious.

  “This man,” he said as he pointed to Mark, “aided in the escape of the bounty hunter Thorn. Many of you saw Thorn challenge me to a fight last night. I accepted that challenge. And now where is he? Where is the man who challenged me under the safety of darkness? Why will he not come out into the light of day and face me now? He is a coward who would rather flee for his life than follow through with the challenge that he, himself, issued. I know many of you are terrified of facing the trade caravan this evening. You have heard stories of their superior defenses and firepower. But they are just stories. When faced with the might that we possess, the trade caravan will cower and quake just like the bounty hunter Thorn did, as he blew through this camp full of bluster and bravado. And I want to make one thing perfectly clear: while people like Thorn, and people like those who abandoned us, may act as cowards, among my gang fear will not be tolerated. The Browning Trade Caravan will crumble before us, and we will be triumphant.”

  He turned to Melina and asked in a low voice, “You brought me the gun I requested?”

  “Of course,” she said. She had placed the concussion rifle under and behind his throne. She handed it to him.

  Court Raleigh held the gun aloft, letting everyone see the sleek black casing glistening in the morning sun.

  “Behold our superior firepower, which will be distributed amongst you when we ride against the trade caravan!”

  Court held his pose for the space of several heartbeats, then turned his gaze on the man cowering in chains before him. Court pointed at Mark, then pointed at the pit. David understood the tacit command, and forced Mark down the stairs. Mark’s knees buckled and he toppled onto the blood-stained sand.

  David did not retract the stairs, because he didn’t need to. Mark was not getting out of that pit. He stood aside as Court walked with great purpose down the slope from his throne to stand at the top of the stairs. His eyes were filled with malice, and his lips, tattooed and painted like teeth, were pulled back from his real teeth in a vicious snarl. He held the trigger and the gun emitted a high-pitched whine as the capacitors charged. Then he released the trigger and the gun fired a bolt of pure energy with concussive force that kicked back into Court’s shoulder and echoed over the sandy bowl. At this close of a range Mark exploded, spraying blood, guts, and bone in a sickening splatter that brought forth cheers from the Amber Bones.

  “Now,” Court said, yelling over the ringing in his ears from the concussion rifle’s blast, “we break camp and we ride for Webster Grove!”

  There was a flurry of activity as the gang members began breaking down their tents and readying themselves to ride out into the wilderness. Although they had lost over a third of their number, and under the expectation and excitation of a violent but victorious battle, the Amber Bones did not notice that they had picked up somewhere in the night an extra member. He wore an amber bandana over his face, as they all did, and a helmet on his head, and peered out from a pair of eyes that were so dark they appeared nearly black. He gave them no reason to doubt that he was part of the gang, as he helped with the work needing to be done and although he might have appeared to be a little stiff, as if he were nursing some unseen injury, he was strong and capable and behaved in accordance with the accepted norms of the gang. They did not notice that the tattoo of the skull and crossed hands under his right eye was just a little bit off, as if it had been applied by a piece of burnt stick that morning, and would have smudged away entirely if it had been rubbed. And they did not notice that this intruder rode along with them as a member of their rank and file as they trekked across the desert to Webster Grove.