‘The next shot goes through your head,’ came a voice from behind.
Ahead of him the young fair-haired man had also drawn his pistol and was pointing it at Jace’s chest.
The Rigante leader turned slowly. The grey-haired musketeer had emerged from the trees and was some twenty paces behind him.
‘You shoot well,’ said Jace. His legs almost buckled, but he steadied himself.
‘Hunted wolves for most of my life,’ said the man equably. He advanced, but only to within ten paces. ‘Put your hands behind your back, Rigante.’
‘I wish I could,’ Jace told him, ‘but the left is shattered.’
‘Let us just execute him for his crimes and be gone,’ said the fair-haired man.
‘Tie his hands,’ said the other. ‘Do it!’
‘I’ll not see any man tortured.’
Before the grey-haired hunter could reply there came a moan from the man with Jace’s sabre blade through his belly. ‘I can’t feel my legs, Uncle Enson,’ he said. ‘I can’t feel them.’
‘He snapped your spine, boy,’ said Enson. ‘Lie still, Lane. It’ll be over soon.’
Lane groaned, then cried out as fresh agony ripped through him. Enson pulled a pistol from his belt and sent a shot hammering into Lane’s skull.
Jace sat down, a great weariness settling over him. He glanced up at the young man. ‘Where have I seen you before?’ he asked. ‘It’s been bothering me some.’
‘Bothering you, you bastard? Bothering you? I am Persis Roebuck. You came to my father’s farm demanding tribute. When he wouldn’t pay you killed our only bull, then you killed my father.’
‘Then you have cause to hate me,’ admitted Jace. Transferring his gaze to Enson he said: ‘And what about you? Which of your family did I kill – apart from the cow turd who broke my sword?’
Enson chuckled. ‘No-one. I’m here for the money only. No wolves left, you see. A man has to eat. I should have put that last shot through your spine and not your shoulder. Had I done so poor Lane would still be with us. But I wanted to see just how tough the great Call Jace would prove to be.’
‘Did you kill my Magra?’ asked Jace.
‘No, that was Keets and Brace. Both are dead, so you have your vengeance. And now, since the lily liver here will not tie your hands, I’ll just have to shatter your right arm. Then we can get to know one another better.’
‘I know you well enough already,’ said Jace.
Enson raised his musket. A shot sounded – and the wolf hunter staggered to his left and stood for a moment. Jace saw blood pumping from his temple. He dropped his weapon and pitched forward.
Kaelin Ring stepped into sight. ‘Put down your pistol,’ he ordered the fair-haired man.
‘He has to die!’ yelled Persis. Jace rolled to his side as the young man fired, the shot screeching past his head. Kaelin shot in the same moment, the lead ball punching through the man’s chest and piercing his heart. Persis was dead before his body struck the earth.
Jace looked up at the young Rigante. ‘If you’ve come courting,’ he said, ‘you have my blessing.’
Kaelin scanned the undergrowth. ‘Are there more of them?’
‘No. These were the last.’
‘Can you walk?’
‘Not at the moment, boy. But give me an hour’s rest and I’ll race you home.’
The journey back to Rigante lands was long and arduous. Despite the confidence of his words Call Jace was too weak to walk unsupported, and, even with Kaelin’s help, could travel no more than a few hundred paces without needing to rest.
After two hours they had made no more than a mile, and Kaelin too was growing weary. Call Jace was a big man, and he stumbled often. At last Kaelin decided he had to leave the Rigante leader and seek help. Finding a camp site close to a stream Kaelin built a fire, gathered dead wood and made Call Jace as comfortable as possible, covering him with his own cloak, and leaving him with the loaded Emburleys. Then he set off at a run, cutting down the trail and onto the main road.