Stand Up Fight - Part Two of Two
Or, what happens when Scott is inspired by Thundarr, part two.
Previously - Harlan, a once upon a time which hunter and Deathdealer, is now a simple man of the land in a post-apocalyptic land changed by magic and technology gone rogue. Genie, on the run from Mayor Wight and his men, trespassed on his land having heard he will sometimes give shelter to those on the run from warlords and despots. He decides to take her on, on a limited basis, assuring her that visitors don’t stay long.
He moved to one of the counters and retrieved two heavy-handled blue mugs. “Tell me why you’re here.” He filled the mugs with strong hot tea of his own blending and came to the table, setting one in front of her.
She picked it up in both hands, her fingers not quite meeting on the other side. She sipped at the warm drink, smacking her lips in appreciation. She watched him as he lifted a lid from the table’s center revealing a half dozen scones. “So these were all for you?”
He smiled back at her. “I’m a big boy. Have one.”
She put down her cup and picked up a scone, nibbling at one corner. After she tasted it, she proceeded to wolf it down. She chased it with a long sip of the tea and burped. “You’re a fine cook.”
“Stop stalling.
She sighed. “As you saw I have a talent for sorcery. I’m also something of a seer.” She studies his reaction. Seeing none, she continued. “Wight called me into his chamber a few nights ago and demanded I read his future. He was drunk, not in the best of moods, and when I told him what I saw he reacted... badly.”
He couldn’t see the blush, but he could hear the color in her voice.
“He called me a liar and told me if I couldn’t be of use in the magical arena I would become his whore. He was too drunk to do more than rip at my clothes before he passed out. The next morning He sent me to my room and told me I would be moving to his stable by the end of the week.”
“You’ve been planning this run for a while.”
She cocked her head. “How do you know?”
“I know how Wight likes his security. You had to be planning this. I won’t ask how you got out. Doesn’t matter. I will ask what your next step is. The world outside a settlement’s walls is a dangerous one. Even for a sorceress. Scratch that, especially for a sorceress.” He took a big bite of the scone and took his time chewing.
“I know. There are plenty of people and things out there hunting for people like me. You were one such and I was hoping you’d have some suggestions.”
He sighed again. He did that a lot when he had to deal with people. "Take your lumps."
"Excuse me?"
"Go back to Wight and take your lumps."
She coughed, her face reddening. "Go to Hades."
He sipped his tea, smiling behind the mug. "He won't call you up to 'serve' him more than once or twice a month. Eventually, he'll get tired of you."
She slammed her mug down and stood. "I will not be that man's concubine."
"Better a safe concubine than a dead sorceress, you ask me."
"I didn't ask you."
"In fact, you did. You wanted me to suggest something. You don't like my suggestion. I understand.” He drank his tea and considered her for a while. He searched her eyes and thought about the steel she had shown. Approaching him and asking him for help took a lot of guts. His reputation as something of a hero had spread, but it had yet to overshadow his darker past. More important than that; she stood up to Wight. There weren’t nearly enough people like her around. He valued his peace and quiet, but it was time to think of the world beyond these walls. “If you don't want to lie under him a few times a month for safety and food, you can stay here for a while. The work will be harder."
"I will NOT sleep with you."
"Nor did I ask you to. You'll work the farm with me. You'll have your own bed. You won't be as safe as you would with Wight, but you'll be safer than you would out there. I'll teach you. I can train you." He didn’t sound happy about it, but there was something that pleased him about the thought of a person to share a table with. Some to whom he could pass on his knowledge and 0 that pleased him as well. He hadn’t had a student in almost a decade. It was nine years long past due.
Her face gradually regained its normal color. "But you're no sorcerer."
He shrugged. "Don't have to be to train you in discipline and knowledge, not to mention survival. In return I get some help around here and the knowledge that I haven't fed you to the wyrmhunds. Or worse."
"I'll take your offer."
He sipped the last of his tea and squinted a bit at her.
"And thank you."
He set his mug down. "You're welcome. Now, if you ever do anything like that while you're my student you'll sleep with the mule."
"Like what?"
He stood, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. "I told you to wait down in the house. You joined me before I made sure everything was clear. If there had been a second wave of hounds or some men behind them I would have been dangerously distracted. Clear?"
She nodded crisply. "Yes, sir."
"Don't call me sir. Call me Harlan. This isn't a finishing school."
The lights dimmed and returned to their original brightness three times.
"What's that?"
"Visitors." He walked to the armoire beside the door. The pump action gun hung on its outside. He shouldered it and opened the door to the armoire. With some care, he chose a bulky pistol which he clipped to his belt. He also grabbed a sword made of split bamboo, which he held loosely in his left hand. He looked over his shoulder at his new student, and then he pulled out a dull silver knuckle guard. He tossed it gently to her.
"Put this over your fingers. If you concentrate on it it will form a shield around you.'
"Don't I get a weapon?"
He laughed. "Hades, no. The last thing I want is a greenie with a loaded weapon behind my back. And behind me is where you need to stay." Satisfied he was ready for the oncoming battle; he walked to the door and opened it.
The group he found walking across his land surprised him: not so much the numbers as the identities of the individuals. Leading the pack was none other than Mayor Budford Wight himself. The pudgy older man wore a pearlescent gray jumpsuit and held a repeating crossbow in his hands. The haft of some melee weapon poked up from his left shoulder. His white hair shone in the waning sunlight and more red scalp was evident than Harlan had remembered from their last meeting.
Bracing the Mayor were his huntmasters Fila and Filas. The red-haired fraternal twins wore nothing more than furred vests and knee length skirts made from leather strips. The vests were open at the front, but held closed by thongs of what he knew to be wyrmhund hide. Their entire raiment was made from the demonic dogs. Each held a boar spear, the blade a half meter long topping a two meter shaft. The edges were as sharp as the point and he knew how quickly they could use the weapons.
Three toughs stood on each side of Wight and his huntmasters. He recognized the type, having stood in their boots not that long ago. Their armored clothes were a patchwork of plates sewn to heavy leather shirts, breeches, and boots. All six were armed with repeating blasters aimed at him and heavy axes hung from their belts. Odds were he was smarter and tougher than any one of them, maybe two, but he was no match for all nine people in a fair fight. Thank the gods he didn’t believe in fighting fair.
Fila gestured with his spear. “Look sister, there is the coward who killed our lovelies.”
The woman hefted her spear over one shoulder. It wasn’t exactly a throwing weapon, but with a good running start she could likely make it fly far and fast enough. “We shall cut out his heart and eat it. That seems a fair price.”
The blade of his bamboo sword didn’t leave his shoulder and he didn’t reach for a gun. “You pups better ask your master first. He knows the penalty for killing me on my own land. None of you would leave this countryside alive if my last breath is here.”
Wight held up a hand. “If the story is true, and knowing Harlan it is, you will need to exact your revenge later.”
Filas lowered her spear but looked none too happy.
Wight gestured with his crossbow over Harlan’s shoulder. “You have something that belongs to me.”
Harlan looked over his shoulder, letting his gaze sweep over Genie and the lands beyond. He looked back at the Mayor, shaking his head. “All I see are things I have responsibility for. There’s nothing of yours here except the cooling corpses of your hounds. You’re free to take those.”
“He means the girl.” Fila barked.
”The woman over my shoulder here is my student. Whatever claim you have on her you’ll have to take up with me.” He moved the sword from his shoulder and planted its tip on the ground in front of him, equidistantly between his toes. “I suggest you send your soldiers away and let us deal with this like men.”
Wight leveled his crossbow. “Men where I come from deal with things by possessing power. I have the power in this situation. I may not be willing to risk killing you, but I could wound you to the point where you’re useless and take you and the girl with us. Once home I will have the time and comfort to deal with your insolences appropriately.”
Harlan shook his head, chuckled, and put all of his weight on the hilt of the sword. It sank easily into the loamy soil, activating the latent magic. Bamboo shoots the width of his thumb shot up from the ground. The magical grove filled the space in front of him. He knew from experience, and the yells of Wight and his guards, it covered an area a dozen yards in front of him and twice that amount from left to right. He also knew each shoot was incredibly sharp.
He threw himself to the right, unslinging the shotgun as he did. He landed heavily, but not without some grace. From there he couldn’t see the men and woman lost in the green, but they couldn’t see him either. He gestured for his new student to take cover. The yells stopped long enough for him to hear at least one of the people moaning.
Wind blew through the grove, rattling the stalks like bones. There was no way for anyone inside to move without revealing where they stood. A movement near the left edge drew his eye. He sighted on it and pulled the trigger. The loud boom was followed by a scream nearly as loud. Hitting his target was almost as much luck as skill. That wasn’t his intent anyway; so much as it was a side benefit.
The remaining five brutes, their nerves brought to the edge by the confrontation and the use of the magic sword, were pushed to their breaking point by the intimidating sounds. One of them must have been pushed over the edge into panic. The rapid fire of one blaster was a unique sound, like the scream of a large lava cat. The beams of energy it threw disintegrated any bamboo it struck. It had the same effect on flesh. Another scream, this one from a different area in the green, let him know one of the toughs had done his work for him.
“Stop you fools, stop.” Mayor Wight shouted, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Fila, Filas take him out.”
Harlan laid the shotgun to one side and pulled the bulky pistol free. There was no way he wanted to face off against those two in hand to hand combat. It was tempting, but his days of having anything to prove were behind him. When he saw the two break cover it was with amazement. They leapt straight up and, in a series of flips, landed within a few yards of where he lay prone.
He pointed the pistol at the woman and pulled the trigger three times. There was a pneumatic hiss and she stood there looking at him, yellow paint streaking the bare skin of her breastbone. All three of the paint markers had struck center mass.
She looked down at them and wiped a finger through the paint. A laugh passed her lips and then her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Fila screamed and bore down on Harlan with the long spear. His attack was flashy but effective. There wasn’t time enough to aim. If he did anything but dodge and weave he would lose a hand or be skewered. As big as he was, he was nearly as fast as Fila. Still the blade sliced his clothes and the skin underneath three times. The cuts weren’t deep, but from the stinging sensation, he knew there was something wicked coating the blade. Enough nicks and he’d be dead or unconscious and then dead.
“Where is your big gun now, Harlan? You will not kill me like you have my hounds and my sister wife.”
There wasn’t time for his stomach to turn at the thought. “She’s...not...dead.” He talked between pants. Just then, his back heel hit a depression. He fell backward and did everything he could to land in a combat ready stance, but failed. He locked eyes with the hound master. There would be no words of gloating.
Fila pulled the spear back and, just before he plunged the blade into Harlan, an invisible force caught the man just below his waist.
Genie howled in glee. She brought the fist that clutched its knuckle guard down again and again causing Fila’s body to jerk where he lay under the impacts.
Harlan looked back to see her brandishing the knuckle guard. She had used the protective force of the shield as a hammer. Manipulating the magic like that took talent. “I wondered if you might think of that use for it.” He tossed her his pistol and stood. “Let’s finish this.” He ran towards his shotgun, making sure to plant one boot in Fila’s midsection and coming down on the man’s head with his second. A series of crunching sounds let him know Fila was down for the count.
As he scooped up the gun he heard a sizzling and a flash of silver white light from the grove. He stopped and went to one knee, bringing up the gun.
Mayor Wight appeared behind a wall of exploding bamboo fragments. The axe he held in his hand had “blades” of arcing electricity. Once the way was clear, he fired a couple of bolts from the crossbow. That and blaster fire from the remaining guards made him glad he had knelt.
The bolts exploded in midair, just behind him, Searing pain like dozens of bee stings covered his back. He hoped Genie’s shield held. Now he had a clear shot at the men and, without hesitation, he took the toughs out on either side of the mayor.
He didn’t hear the sound of the pneumatic hiss under all of the other gunfire, but saw a line of yellow stitch its way down the mayor’s face and jumpsuit. The headshot had a near immediate effect. Maybe he should have given her a gun earlier.
The mayor went to his knees. The final two guards, assessing the situation, fought their way through the bamboo, each carrying a wounded comrade. He let them go.
Genie came up behind him. “Why did you leave them alive?” She gestured to the mayor and the freaky twins.
The ringing in his ears made hearing her a challenge, but the words made it through. He shrugged. “Not an entirely conscious decision, but I decided awhile back the fewer people I have to kill, the better. Besides, as bad a man as he is, the mayor’s pretty predictable and there are worse people waiting to fill his shoes.” He slung the massive slug thrower over one shoulder. “Get their weapons and take them inside.”
A few minutes of brisk work and she had the small stockpile of weapons gathered and stored in his kitchen armory. He took that time to toss the bodies of the two toughs he had killed over the wall. He’d throw them in the woodchipper later and add them and the hounds to his compost heap.
Together they hooked up a large flatbed to his mule’s halter. He laid the mayor and his sidekicks out in a row on the smooth wood. They would be out for at least the next hour. Time enough for him to dump the bodies well away from his property.
They watched the trio for a few minutes in silence. “What was the prophecy? That he’d be defeated by a tall handsome stranger?”
She laughed. It was a sound he could get used to. “No matter how many women he lay with he wouldn’t sire a successor.”
Harlan whistled. “Yeah, I could see how he might want to test it out on you.”
“Aren’t they going to come back with a bigger goon squad?”
“It’s possible. That’s a chance I’m willing to take. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to hand Wight a beating. He’ll wake up in about an hour or so, but won’t feel like tangling with anyone. That’s assuming nothing comes along to eat them where they lay. He’ll come up with a good story and a reason not to come back here. We’ll lay low and in a few weeks you’ll be on your way.”
She looked up at him. “A few weeks? You’re that good of a teacher?”
Harlan shook his head. “Not at all. That’s about all I’ll need to teach you what I know. And if you want to be on to the next spot of civilization before the big storms come, you’ll need to leave in a month at the most. With you out of the way, he won’t have any more reasons than usual to want to give me grief.” Either he was imagining it or she looked a little sad at the prospect.
“I predict I will be here through the storms.” She cleared her throat. “As your student.” There was a new bit of color high on her cheeks. ”Will that be a problem?” She stepped closer to him and craned her neck back.
He chuckled and made a clucking sound at the mule. It began to walk forward at a steady pace. “I don’t suppose so. You’ve made my day more interesting. I could use a little more excitement around here. Just not too much. Any predictions there?”
She squinted a little. “Reply hazy. Ask again later.” The pair laughed and followed closely behind the cart.
