Robinson Crusoe 2245: (Book 2) (33 page)

First glance revealed nothing but the obfuscation of mist. Then he saw movement among the trees. Several dark-skinned men appeared, weapons in hand.

“Is it the Flayers?” Boss asked.

Robinson nodded. Even from afar, he recognized their war paint and the accoutrement of bones encircling their necks. But it wasn’t their presence that froze his heart. It was the person he saw among them.

“And Friday is with them.”

Chimosh took a heavy breath, but allowed no other reaction. He turned and barked orders to his warriors.

“How many are there?”

Robinson tracked the eyeglass along the ride.

“I can’t say for certain, but I’d estimate we’re outnumbered at least two to one.”

Boss cursed. “We need to load the weapons onto the train and vamoose.”

Chimosh turned and headed for the door.

“Doesn’t look like that’ll be happening,” Robinson said.

“Why? We got the time.”

“We have a defensible structure. And the mist will make it difficult for their archers to target the Aserra. Plus, Arga’Zul’s men have been hiking for days. They’re most likely tired. Chimosh will see this as his best opportunity to defeat his foes.”

“But you said they’re outnumbered.”

“That doesn’t matter to the Aserra. If they believe the conditions favor them, they’ll fight.”

At that moment, the stomping of feet bore down from above. The Aserra were taking their positions.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Boss said, impatiently. “The sixth car. It’s not empty.”

“Who’s in it?” Robinson asked, suddenly worried Boss had done something stupid.

“Not
who
.
What
. I brought gunpowder.”

Robinson shook his head. “Won’t do us any good. There’s no time to find and load the casings.”

“Kid, that’s what I’m saying. It’s already done. The car’s full of bullets that’ll most likely fit all these weapons. I got a motto. When in doubt, bring guns. When in real doubt, bring extra ammo.”

Robinson’s eyes widened. He was just about to call out for Chimosh when he heard a shrill whistle split the morning air.

“What is that?” he asked, his chest now rising sharply.

Boss’s face had gone pale.

“Train whistle,” she said.

“What in Crown’s name is your man doing?” Robinson asked.

“Probably crapping his pants. Because that whistle isn’t from my train.”

Shocked, Robinson ran outside.

At the edge of the building, Chimosh stood with a number of other warriors, dread plastered across the faces. But they weren’t looking across the field at Arga’Zul’s army. They were looking down the tracks as a second train broke through the mist. It too had brought an army of Flayers. But unlike those in the field, these looked fresh.

“Looks like you been outfoxed, son,” Boss said.

“Who?” Chimosh asked.

Robinson didn’t need her to answer. There was only one man with the resources to build a train of his own.

Baras’Oot.

Baras’Oot hadn’t overseen a battle in more than a decade, but he still knew the best way to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies was to show up with the biggest army.

Or in this case, the biggest vessel carrying the biggest army. He had taken one of the Cowboy men hostage a year before and had him construct the train far outside his city. He never expected it to work, but when it did, he knew it would come in handy.

Nearly a thousand men were packed into the line of cars pulled by the ancient engine. He had left only a handful at home to protect his city, but it was worth the risk. His spies had told him that the stranger boy had gone to Cowboytown to recruit men and transportation. Now, Baras’Oot had both his enemies in his sights. Only his brother was between them. It was a masterful stroke. Arga’Zul’s army would now have no choice but to step back into the fold and out from under his control once and for all.

And just in case there was any doubt, he had, in the parlance of the Big Hats, one more card up his sleeve.

When Arga’Zul’s men cheered the arrival of their brethren, he knew his coup was over before it had begun. The only question now was whether his brother would let him survive the day. He knew he had to act fast.

“My brother, the king, has responded to our call!” he shouted to his men. “Let our enemies fear the sum of our greatness! Here, once and for all, we will crush the Aserra and wipe their seed from the Earth!”

The roar that ensued shook the battlefield.

“You,” Arga’Zul said, pointing to Vardan Saah. “Come with me. I need to speak with my brother.”

Vardan and Jaras Saah were shoved after Arga’Zul as he set across the field, dew from the plants leaving streaks of moisture on their legs.

After a few feet, Jaras braved a glance back. Two Flayers held an exhausted Friday, her face waxen. Jaras tilted his chin as if to say he would be back, but she gave no reaction.

Inside the terminal, Chimosh and the Aserra watched on with mounting dread. They had expected to face greater numbers, but this army left them outnumbered six to one. The mood was grim.

Too late to retreat, Chimosh gave orders to make their defense from within the building. The metal structure would not easily burn and could provide high cover for their archers.

Suddenly, Robinson burst back inside.

“I have a surprise,” Robinson said.

Big Hats entered, carrying heavy boxes. One was cracked open, and bullets spilled across the floor.

“Careful,” Robinson said. “Boss said only certain bullets will work with these rifles. Have your men collect all the ones that look like this.”

Robinson held up a three-inch round. Chimosh directed his warriors to do as he said.

“We’ll need these warriors to load the magazines and carry them to the ones using them. The magazine ejects like this.”

Robinson picked up a rifle and pushed a lever with his thumb. The magazine fell straight away. “Feed the bullets and then slam it back into place.” He pulled the bolt back to load it. “Now, it’s ready. Have them avoid the ones that have too much rust. They’re likely to—”

Suddenly, one of the scouts ran into the room.

“The Big Hats are leaving,” he said.

Robinson and Chimosh ran outside to see Boss’s train in reverse. From the engineer’s window, Robinson could see Boss staring at him. She’d warned him that she wanted no part of the fight, but he was still disappointed. He had hoped she would reconsider. Still, she had kept her part of the bargain and delivered them to the weapons. She had also given them the ammunition to fight. He could bear her no ill will. When she raised a hand to say goodbye, Robinson followed suit.

Boss lowered her hand with a pang of guilt. It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with. But the Aserra were outnumbered. Stupidly outnumbered. And the five men she had brought with her wouldn’t change that. They’d have only ended up dead too. The guilt came from her feelings for the kid. He was young, rash, and idealistic. But he made hard choices because they were the right ones. She couldn’t say the same about many others.

Boss had seen the way the kid looked when he realized his girl was outside. To come so far, only to see the thing you loved most slip through your fingers was almost too much to bear.

She turned to Clawfoot.

“Pick it up,” she said.

When Arga’Zul neared the second train, his brother stepped down and was quickly surrounded by his men. The war chieftain recognized several of the spies who had fled Atlanta. One of them even wore a smirk.

I’ll kill him first
, Arga’Zul thought.

“I see you received my message, Brother,” Arga’Zul said. “Now, we have the Aserra—the scourge of our people—right where we want them.”

“How fortunate for us that you moved so quickly, Brother,” Baras’Oot said. “Your ruse did indeed work. Today is a great day for our people, and it is a tribute to our ancestors. In honor of your deeds, I have decided to let you lead the initial attack.”

“
Initial
attack, My King?” Arga’Zul asked. “The base is indefensible. Our enemies are armed with rocks and sticks. Let us overrun them and be done with it.”

“And deny my war chief his greatest victory? Never! You have striven your entire life for this. I will not, in these final moments, deny you your great prize. Your legacy demands this final outcome.”

Arga’Zul understood he’d been outplayed again. His brother had done it to him his entire life. Only this time, he would not come to his aid. He would let his ranks fall until Arga’Zul himself was the last standing. And only when his blood marked the earth would he send in his remaining army to save the day.

“Pardon me, Your Highness,” Vardan Saah interrupted. “It is good to see you on the field of battle, but with your permission, I’d like for my son and I to return to your village so we may obtain our flier and take our leave.”

“I see no weapons,” Baras’Oot said. “Only a barn where my enemies await. But fear not. I will allow you and your son to remain here under my protection while this
slaughter
plays out. Be thankful. You’re about to witness history in the making.”

He looked at Arga’Zul as he said it. There was nothing to retort. The gauntlet had been thrown down. Now, the war chieftain’s only concern was how to survive the day. He turned and nodded for his men to follow. He’d only walked a few feet when his brother called out.

“And, Brother? I want the stranger boy brought to me.”

“He fights with the Aserra,” Arga’Zul said. “I can’t guarantee he survives this battle.”

“Then bring him to me before the battle begins.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Trade him for something the Aserra want. Trade him for the girl.”

Arga’Zul felt his teeth clench and his hand tighten upon his weapon, but Baras’Oot’s guards were ready.

Baras’Oot knew what he was thinking and sneered. “You defied my orders in taking her from the parade grounds. You won’t defy my orders again.”

Arga’Zul knew Baras’Oot didn’t care about the boy. He was just trying to unbalance him before the real fighting began. The princess was too sick to run anyway. Her people would protect her. And when it was done, he would reclaim her for himself.

Jaras had listened to the savages talk. He understood little of it, but he felt the tension. And he recognized the word ‘girl.’ They were speaking about Tessa. Whatever the savage king asked for, it had irked the war chieftain. And he knew the man was soft on his sister. Jaras realized she was in danger. There was only one thing to do.

Friday had been bound to a tree. She knew her people were inside the far building and that they were greatly outnumbered. But the time to flee was gone. They had to fight. Many would die today. Friday only lamented that she wouldn’t be amongst them claiming lives for the Goddess.

A rustle in the grass sounded behind her, followed by a choking sound. She couldn’t see what was happening, but she heard a struggle and felt a spray of something hot and wet hit her back.

After a brief silence, Jaras appeared with a bloody knife in hand. He used it to cut her bonds.

“We don’t have much time,” he said. “C’mon.”

Friday followed him through the grove of trees toward her people.

“Jaras?” Saah called.

A moment before, the boy had been behind him, but now he couldn’t see him anywhere. He whirled around in a panic. “Jaras!”

Arga’Zul watched the flying man call for his son. He scoffed. The boy’s head was broken, and nothing would fix it.
Maybe they’ll both die in battle,
Arga’Zul thought,
and I’ll have two less headaches to deal with.
Maybe he’d even get the man’s flying ship, and then he would rule the skies as well as the rivers.

Inside the terminal, the Aserra quick-armed the rifles. Robinson lamented not having time to train with the weapons, but even if only a handful of warriors were able to use them, they might turn the tide of the battle in their direction.