James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

THE DOOR FROM THE YARD into the tower that Ryan had selected was unlocked. It was about thirty paces from the corner building that held most of the ville’s weapons, and the same distance from the main gate.

“Everyone here all right?” whispered Ryan, hidden in the doorway.

Krysty touched him gently on the arm. “Something’s not right, lover.”

“What?”

“I can feel men close by.”

“Guards?”

She shook her head, the bright flames of her hair just visible in the gloom. “Not that. More than that. Got a strong feeling of something wrong.” Ryan knew better than to ignore Krysty’s “seeing” power and looked out across the courtyard, straining his hearing, wondering whether he’d heard the scrape of steel on steel.

“Jak, check out the window. See if you can see anything across the water.”

The albino had poor sight in the brightness of noon, but his pale red eyes saw fine in darkness, better than anyone else’s.

He was gone for only fifteen flying seconds.

“Men. Crossing the lake. Got rafts of driftwood. Look to be about thirty of them.”

Ryan looked toward the main gate, his own sight now adjusted to the dim light, seeing a scuffle of movement and hearing a gasp of pain or shock. “Treachery,” he breathed. “Ronin got men inside here, like we reckoned they could.”

“They’ll open the gates and drop the bridge. And the ville’s going to be open to attack,” J.B. said. “Be easy for us to get away and stick to our plan. Nobody notice in the chaos of the raid.”

Ryan made the instant decision.

“No,” he said. “Could reckon we’re still his guests. Owe him our help.”

“The gateway?” Krysty probed.

“Later.”

He sidled out into the courtyard, keeping pressed against the dry timbers of the high wall, the SIG-Sauer drawn and cocked in his hand. Krysty was next in line, followed by Jak, Mildred and Doc. Without a command or a word being said, J.B. automatically took up the rear guard.

The riding moon peeked out from behind a ragged cluster of high cloud, giving a little more light in the yard, enabling Ryan to see a half dozen men in red and white, preparing to lower the bridge to the invaders.

“Let’s take them,” he said, readying himself to spring and catch the enemy by surprise.

When the world blew up around him.

Chapter Thirty-Three

As he was tossed sideways by the force of the explosion, part of Ryan’s combat mind told him that the ronin had gotten in and blown the armory, and part of him was trying to cope with the sudden burst of violence that sent him rolling over the cobbled yard, deafened and blinded.

He instinctively kept hold of the butt of the SIG-Sauer, taking a jarring blow in the small of the back from the walnut stock of the Steyr SSG-70.

Ryan was conscious of bits of wood and masonry thudding all around him. He opened his eye, finding that he could see bright flames and a curtain of billowing black smoke that boiled from the shattered ruins of the tower.

His head was ringing and he could hear voices, echoing around him, hollow and distant.

Someone tugged at his arm, trying to get him to his feet. Rubbing at his eye, Ryan saw that it was J.B., his fedora still miraculously perched on his head. The Armorer was shouting something to him, but the words were distorted.

“Back inside”

“What?”

“Best get inside. They got a hold.”

“How about the others?”

J.B. nodded. “All right. They’re all right. You were nearest explosion.”

Ryan was standing, coughing at the smoke and dust. J.B. was at his side, holding the scattergun at his hip. A figure in the colors of the palace sec force loomed out of the darkness at them, holding a Nambu 9 mm pistol.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the Armorer squeezed the trigger on the Smith amp; Wesson M-4000, firing one of the murderous Remington flechettes at the man’s midriff. The twenty darts, each an inch long, tore into the stomach, puddling the intestines, sending the invader staggering backward. He dropped his blaster, hands reaching to try to hold his ruined body together.