Devil Riders

“If he’s been aced?”

“Then Rockpoint gets a new baron,” Ryan stated.

Over by the outhouses, the dog suddenly went stiff and lurched down a side street at a lope.

“He’s got the scent!” Sparrow gushed, starting after the hound.

Moving fast, the companions raced along the cobblestones, following the dog through the maze of streets.

“Stay close. This could be an ambush.”

“Good,” Ryan snarled, working the bolt action on the Steyr.

Houston paused at an intersection, checking the ground several times before finally choosing an alleyway. People watched through closed shutters as the companions ran by, the adobe buildings going dark as candles were hastily extinguished. Obviously this was sec-man work and none of their concern.

Reaching a courtyard, the dog froze and growled at the darkness to the left, weird piles of things creaking in the wind, the jumble reaching higher than the wall surrounding the ville.

“What’s over there?” Ryan demanded.

Sparrow shrugged. “Junkyard. Baron collects predark machines.”

“I thought this place didn’t have any wags?” J.B. said.

“None of them work,” Sparrow replied. “Houston just don’t like it there ’cause the baron guards the stuff with a couple of big cats he caught in the salt lands.”

Gaza protected wags that didn’t work with a couple of cougars? Sure. Ryan was starting to understand why the baron was on bad terms with Trader. It was starting to sound like Gaza was stockpiling weapons and wags for a major assault somewhere. A war was brewing in these sand dunes, which meant there had to be another ville nearby. Unless Trader was the target.

“Really hates those folks to the north of here, eh?” Ryan tried on a hunch.

“Ain’t nothing to the north that I know about,” Sparrow said, sounding puzzled. “Hey, there he goes again!”

In a burst of speed, Houston scampered down a broad street, then disappeared into a cross street. Turning the corner, Ryan spied the dog running past a group of sec men coming down the street with crackling torches and crossbows in their hands.

“It’s the outlanders!” a sec man cried, starting to level the crossbow. “Chill them!”

Releasing his grip on the Steyr, Ryan pulled the SIG-Sauer and fired, the silenced blaster coughing twice, the whispering 9 mm slugs tearing through the soft tissue of the men’s throats and the guards fell, drowning in their own blood.

One of them got off an arrow that whizzed past Jak, and he jerked an arm forward. The blade hit the sec man in the chest dead center in the heart. Still holding the crossbow, the man went completely still, then slowly toppled.

Another raised his longblaster and Dean flipped his Bowie knife into the man’s stomach, making him drop the blaster. Then Ryan stroked the trigger on the SIG-Sauer and the guard flipped backward minus a face.

“Take the bows,” Krysty directed, tugging a quiver of bolts from the trembling arm of a corpse. “Once we start shooting, all hell is going to break loose.”

“Has already,” Ryan muttered, slitting the throat of a guard who was somehow still alive.

“A silenced blaster,” Sparrow whispered. “You folks work for the Trader!”

“Close enough,” J.B. stated, watching the windows along the street while Mildred took the other crossbow and a second quiver. The stock seemed to be whittled from a house beam, the cross hammered from a steel leaf-spring out of a car. She had seen similar homemade weapons before. They were crude, cumbersome and extremely powerful.

“Is he coming?” the man asked eagerly. “Going to do Gaza and Hawk? Be glad to help there.”

“Go find your dog,” Ryan ordered.

Moving around the sprawled bodies, Sparrow took off after the animal, with the companions close behind. Raised voices were heard in the distance, but they moved away from the group heading for the keep. Oddly, the area was starting to look familiar when Ryan saw the dog start for a redbrick building without doors or windows.

“Dark night, this is the rear of the temple!” J.B. said.

“Call him back now!” Ryan ordered brusquely.

Sparrow whistled and the dog stopped, looking back at his master, then turned and trotted back.

“So that’s where he is,” Sparrow said hoarsely. “They got him in the temple. Might as well leave. Most likely he’s aced already. Or worse.”

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