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Chapter 17: The Seedwind
Part 4
The sentry stepped forward, making to stab, then cut right. Frix read the fake and circled left, parrying a slash. They squared off again.
“Hey buddy, we’ve got to go.” This from Turner, who had crept up on them. He held the handhammer. Frix was somewhat relieved to see it was free of blood.
“Trained your new friends to fight like real men, huh traitor?” the sentry said, shifting his sights between Frix and Turner.
“Bettine won’t spare you, you know,” Frix said.
“What?”
“Even if you cart my body to her, chopped into little pieces. She’ll make an example of you. For letting me go.”
The sentry gritted his teeth, glancing to the side as Atrocity circled around to join. When he looked back at Frix, some of the fire had gone out his eyes.
“Well what am I supposed to do then?” he said. “It’s either me or you.”
“It’s you and me both,” said Frix. “Same fate. What’s your name?”
“Roddem. Roddem of Fal. Tell these witches to back off, and we’ll duel this out, like it’s supposed to be.”
“Nothing is like it’s supposed to be Roddem. People are dying.”
Roddem swallowed. “I shot Ganno. He… my dart went wide.”
“I shot Ganno, sir,” said Atrocity. Roddem turned to her, his weapon arm lowering. She was covered in sweat and short on breath again. “I moved your shot. I didn’t think it would hit him. It was too fast. I’m sorry.”
“We’ve got to get to the wood bay before more units get here,” Frix said. “You know the Head of Spark. You’re finished either way. Unless you come with us.”
“And turn my back on the triads, as you have done?”
“Like you said, what choice do you have?”
“I can die with honour.”
His arm came back up and Frix tensed, but the look on Roddem’s face was one of shock. His fingers spasmed and uncurled, and the sharp floated out and lobbed itself to Atrocity. She caught it, let out a big huff, and said, “Our time is too short for honour, sir. Tend to your kin; we need to go.”
“Gather what weapons you can,” Frix said, blinking at Atrocity. “If you spot any horns, take those too.”
The siblings melted back and Frix and the sentry stared at each other. Frix felt at his breastplate with his free hand, finding the bolt. It was lodged in at an angle, but the cudgel and leather had absorbed most of its thrust. It hurt, but it felt about as uncomfortable as the wound he’d gotten from Dreff.
Roddem’s eyes were downcast and distant, so Frix risked a quick glance around. The third rusher—the one he had pinned to the ground—was up and taking care of the guy with the dislocated shoulder. The other three bodies lay still, two breathing.
The witches returned, handing Frix a slinger and pouch of rocks. There were no extra cudgels, so he fitted a hammer into the spot. It was a decent trade. Atrocity helped herself to a pair of shortsharps, and Turner kept a slinger and longsharp. He held out the crossdart to Frix.
“Too big. I’ll disable it.” He tore out the firing mechanism and held onto it. “Let’s go.”
They backed away from Roddem, who stood watching, his fists opening and closing. When they had gotten a good distance away, they broke into a run.
Minutes after they lost Roddem and company to the mist, the barnlike structure of the wood bay became visible through the endless slats. They curved towards it, slowing to a trot as they closed in.
“If it's covered, they'll be inside. Any good shooting positions besides the roof? High openings, ledges, that sort of thing?” asked Frix.
“Not on the outside,” said Atrocity. “Windowless, ledgeless. The roof is open on the top, however. And inside there are many vantage points along the observation carryways.”
“Okay. Hold for a second.”
They stopped, about forty trees from the bay. He scanned behind them, seeing no signs of pursuit. He assumed any more units would be pincering along the outer edges anyway. Satisfied that there was no immediate threat, Frix shimmied up the branchless trunk of the nearest tree.
Once into the leaves, he got as high as he could using the young branches. About halfway up gave him enough height to get a partial look at the roof of the bay. Though the canopy obscured a perfect view, he waited, as patient as possible, for the leaves to shuffle and move. It was strange and peaceful, and in this serenity he came to realize that the sound of fighting was no longer.
It took about a minute to see enough of the roof to be convinced there wasn't anyone watching from atop. Maybe there was no one there at all.
He came down, jumping the last five feet.
“Well?” said Turner.
“Roof looks clear. But stay alert. Is there a way in besides a front door?”
“Rear bay, maintenance hall door and two side entrances,” said Atrocity.
“What's the sneakiest? Maintenance?”
“I'd say so.”
“Okay. How are you two feeling?” said Frix
“The bay’s stone is not as cloudy as I assumed it would be,” said Atrocity. “It’s hurt and confused, but has enough cycles to weather another joust, I think. And once we can sync with the transport there will be even more cycles we can borrow. They aren’t the speediest I’ve known, but they go faster than you run.”
It sounded good to Frix.
“Company, look,” said Turner.
There was a lone figure on the horizon, flitting through the woods. Following them.
“Perhaps a dubious life seemed more appealing than an honourable death,” said Atrocity.
“He could be armed. Make to fight.” Frix got his new slinger ready. It felt very good to have one back in his hands.
Roddem came hustling toward them, the crossdart strapped over his back. As he got into slinger range, he slowed and held out his hands, palms up. Frix kept his weapon taut and moved into the open to face the sentry. “Change your mind then?”
Roddem caught his breath, and snapped off the strap holding the crossdart. It clattered to the ground. He pulled a pouch off and tossed it at Frix’s feet. Then he held up a black bolt. “I pulled this outta Ganno. I killed him, no matter what the witchling there says. That’s what I’ll be remembered for. Even if I bring you in.”
Frix nudged the pouch with his toe. It felt like there were more bolts in it. “So you’ll run with us.”
“I’ll run with you. Keep the bolts and firing mechanism. I’ll earn the right back.”
“One of these damn Falsesparkers is bad enough,” Turner said.
“What can you tell me about the bay?” Frix asked.
“Mossalea of Ran’s unit is in there. Covering all exits. Four more extended units are sweeping up the sides as we speak, ready to fence off… whatever this madness is.” Roddem looked around the columned expanse.
“It’s a trick,” said Turner.
“I’ll search him, we’ll go in, and if Mossa’s there then we know it’s no trick,” Frix said.
Turner frowned. “Who the fuck is Mossa?”
Frix felt the words catch in his throat. He felt a creeping, absurd heat in his face… all too aware that Atrocity could hear him. “It doesn’t matter. Cover Roddem.”
Frix searched the sentry, found him to be clean, then took the bloody bolt from him and loaded it into the crossdart. “Put this back on. I have a plan.”
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