Wind-Scarred (The Will of the Elements, Book 1) (12 page)

Throwing aside his pistol, Mat accelerated
into a dash over the remaining space, hand moving to his sword,
ready to draw. It was apparently not fast enough for Arn. Grasping
in front of him, the elementalist pulled his arm back with a shout,
as if ripping away a curtain. A torrent of wind whipped past,
streaming leaves and sticks into a vortex toward and around the man
while scattering the cloud of bullets behind him. Mat was suddenly
pulled from his feet and sent flying forward, eyes widening in
surprise. He managed to get his sword clear and ready a lunge
before Arn raised his right hand, bringing Mat to a complete stop,
freezing him in place a foot off the ground. Ezra saw Mat fight in
vain to move.

Arn chuckled quietly as he stepped around
the sword and patted Mat on the cheek. “Guess you didn't know what
you were up against here, kid. You one of Velor's boys? The
Besmirched send you, thinking they'd get a little payback?”

“
Bite me,” Mat managed through clenched teeth, eyes burning
with fury.

The wind-scarred gave a little shrug and
threw a lightning fast left hook into Mat's face. There was a sound
like a small explosion as the ground beneath the point of impact
was suddenly blown clean of forest detritus in a burst of air. Mat
flew through the wall of the lumber mill, eight feet away, and kept
going, vanishing inside the building. He somehow managed to keep a
hold on his sword.

“
Ow,” Ezra heard Mat groan. “I may need some help,
Sarah.”

“
Incoming,” she said, and Ezra saw her dash to the side of the
building and dive into a ground floor window to take up a position
inside.

The wind-scarred had his
back to Ezra, rolling a shoulder as if loosening it up for some
manual labor. He walked casually toward the hole he'd just made in
the mill.
He forgot about
me
, Ezra realized with sudden clarity.
Swallowing hard, he eased the knife from its sheathe at his side
and silently rose to his feet, creeping toward the man in front of
him. He was just out of reach when the man halted and raised a hand
with two fingers up, just visible over his shoulder. Suddenly, the
air around Ezra solidified, holding him helplessly in
place.

“
Bait,” Arn said, turning his head slightly to the side, “is
meant to be seen and heard, then devoured or spit back out. Next
time, tell those fire-kissed snobs to at least send something
pretty.” The elementalist gave a dismissive gesture and Ezra was
thrown backwards, his knife flying from his hand and out of sight
into the surrounding foliage. He slammed into a tree and fell to
the ground, stars dancing around the image of the man stepping
easily through the hole Mat had left in the mill's wall.

Sounds of a struggle came from inside,
punctuated with dull thumps that sent tremors through the air
followed by screams or quiet curses in Ezra's ear. It went on for
hours. Or minutes. Or maybe seconds. Ezra shook his head, trying to
clear it. Abruptly, the noises inside the mill ceased.

“
Hawkins,” Sarah's voice came through tersely. “Hawkins, get
out of here. Report back to the Guild and get help. We
couldn't-”

The transmission ended with the muted thud
of a heavy blow. Ezra was alone.

Ezra climbed unsteadily to his feet. What
should he do? Go back for help? He had a sinking feeling that any
help he could bring would be far too late for his teammates. He
didn't have enough information. The big building lurked silently in
front of him. There was information in there. They had never
actually said not to go inside the building. Mat and Sarah were
professionals though, actually trained for this kind of thing. He'd
have no chance in there. On the other hand, they had shown
remarkably poor judgment coming up here in the first place. He
clearly couldn't trust their decisions at this point without
consulting them thoroughly or collecting more data. Fortified by
the familiar caress of sound logic, he made his way cautiously and
quietly to the hole in the wall and slipped through.

The inside of the mill was a disaster. The
floor was torn in places, thick support beams bent and broken
everywhere. Sawdust hung heavily in the air and Ezra suppressed a
sneeze, squinting his eyes to peer into the gloom. The floor was a
mess of scuffed footprints in a thin layer of yet more sawdust, the
occasional patch blasted clear by what Ezra could only assume had
been more of the wind-scarred's concussive punches, like the one
that had thrown Mat through the wall. It looked like this was one
elementalist who enjoyed a good brawl.

Creeping quietly through the shadows of the
dim room, Ezra heard subdued voices coming from the rear of the
building. He eased his way toward them, until he could clearly make
out Arn's gravelly rumble.

The boards near the back
wall creaked as the wind-scarred paced slowly back and forth over
them. “I'm gettin' tired of asking you the same thunderin'
question, and you won't like what I come up with when I have to...
amuse myself. Who sent you? Was it Velor? Jonus? Who?!” Another
heavy punch thumped through the room, Mat letting out a grunt as he
took it. “Real hard case huh? Professional. I can respect that. I
got nothin' 'gainst you personal, kid, but you come up here toting
them fancy new Besmirched toys and I get to thinkin that maybe you
was...” He trailed off and stopped pacing. “Those
were
some pretty toys you
all had, weren't they? Never seen none like 'em before. Was it...
it wasn't... wasn't Val, was it?” Ezra could hear worry creeping
into Arn's voice. “Val said leave, and I left, ain't been no-where
near Eastpoint since. I'm way out here, deep Beloved territory,
just trying to get by, you know.” A hint of desperation colored his
tone. “I didn't know whose shipment that was, don't care what was
in those boxes. Gave em back right and proper, didn't I? Val knows
I dun want any more trouble.”

“
Maybe that's not what Val heard, Arn.” Sarah sounded calm and
in control, her voice carrying a cold bite. “Maybe Val thinks you
should just keep moving. Maybe think before you stop next
time.”

The floor squeaked and groaned as Arn paced
over to Sarah. Ezra chanced a glance around a beam that stretched
to the ceiling and saw Mat and Sarah pinned against the back wall
by an invisible force, feet inches from the ground. Silence
stretched on as the wind-scarred stared into the young woman's
eyes.

“
No... no, you had me goin there for a minute.” He made an
absentminded gesture and Sarah convulsed as if hit in the stomach.
“Val wants to deliver a message, she'll come right out here and
burn it into me. No, I think I got you both pegged.” He laughed
softly to himself. “You can handle yourselves in a fight. Certainly
gave me a few nicks to remember, and that's a good sight better
than most do.” He spun back to face Mat and extended an accusatory
finger along with what must have been another invisible blow, from
the way Mat's head snapped to the side. “Deserters! Ran off with a
few Besmirched trinkets and now you think you're invincible, is
that it? Took out a few nobodies and decided to try for the big
time, bump off old Arn the Fist. Maybe get back in good with Val
while you're at it, huh? Ha!”

Ezra noticed something gleaming in the wall
a few meters from where he was standing. Mat's sword stuck out just
above eye level, point buried deep in the wood. Ezra licked his
lips and ghosted toward the weapon, fast, light steps carrying him
smoothly and silently forward as Arn continued his tirade.

“
Maybe I do you one better, eh? Maybe I soften y'all up a bit,
drag you back down there and see how Val takes to deserters, what
do you think of that? Aw heck, even if you ain't deserters, Val'll
be mighty interested in someone else sending heat across the border
without her say-so. Why, I bet-”

The wood groaned as the
sword came loose. Ezra cringed.
Maybe if I
just put it back, no-one will notice,
he
thought to himself. Mat and Sarah's heads jerked up suddenly, and
Arn whirled around and snarled, “Who's out there?”

Okay, it's possible that they did notice
something, but that doesn't necessarily mean they know that it's
me. Lots of things could have made that sound, like rats, or
pigeons, or...

“
Ezra, run!” shouted Mat. “You can't-”

The wind-scarred made an curt gesture and
Mat's voice fell silent. Ezra peered out of the shadows to see
Sarah's face, a mask of horror, watching Mat as he gasped for air,
dark eyes bulging.

“
Shh, you'll scare 'im off,” Arn said softly. “That you, bait?
You get the idea that maybe you come in here, be the big hero?” The
elementalist chuckled quietly. “Why don't you come on out here
where I can see ya, we'll have a little talk about that notion,
nice and civ'lized like.” He began checking behind massive upright
beams as he stalked toward the center of the room, stirring up
sawdust in his wake.

Clutching the sword, Ezra closed his eyes
and tried to think. He could wait for the man to walk past, then
stab him from behind. No! He'd be seen, or caught like last time.
The man was clearly unstable and not anywhere near his right mind,
but he had proven himself competent and observant, except when he
was talking about these Besmirched, whoever they were. Fire-kissed
of some kind, or something. He shook his head, sawdust floating
down from his curly hair. If only there was a way to-

Ezra's head jerked up as
inspiration struck. “...said I could be like him.” His lips mouthed
the words. Shaking fingers reached to his pocket, and he glanced
around. He was a little over forty feet from the door.
No, no, it was impossible. But... if I can cut
that distance in half, let the man walk a little further forward...
No, I don't have the training for this kind of thing. I should run.
Maybe if I throw the sword back when he's not-

Mat made a strangled sound.
Ezra felt his shoulders square. He looked down at the sword.
Ten feet around the wind-scarred, that should do
it
, he thought grimly. He could do it.
Moving softly, staying hidden, Ezra positioned himself to enact his
plan.

“
I
ain't playing with you here boy!” Arn's voice rang out with
frustration as he searched the room. “Your friend back there don't
have too much longer. Gonna be a mighty disappointin' rescue in a
minute now. Don't rightly care if you're Besmirched, I just
want-”

“
We are
not
the Besmirched.” Ezra's voice was soft, but carried through
the empty room as he stepped out in front of the door. The sun hung
low in the sky, just above the treetops and directly behind him,
shrouding his body and face in shadow, a dark silhouette against
its brilliance. Mat's sword gleamed wickedly in his right hand,
held out to his side, tip dragging against the floor, kicking up a
wispy line of sawdust.

Arn blinked, shielding his eyes and stopping
where he stood. Sarah turned and stared in horror, mouthing the
word 'No' over and over. Mat's eyes fluttered closed, head slumping
forward, shoulders jerking up and down in short, uncontrolled
spasms. Ezra slowly, deliberately, began to walk forward.

“
Now what in the-”

“
We aren't something you can comprehend, Arn the Fist. We are
those who stand when no-one else will.”
What else had Blair said? Something about shields and
swords...
“
We are
the shield of the helpless. We are the sword of the
righteous.”
Okay, just need to keep it up
a little longer, almost close enough now.
“
We are the world's great
equalizer.”
Three more steps, you can do
it Ezra!
“
We are
those who protect.”
Is he really just
listening to all this?
“
We are those who defend.”
He's starting to look pretty angry...
“
We are those who
avenge.”
Oh god oh god oh god oh
god.
“
We are the
Guild of Sundry.”
Say something
impressive, quick!
“
And fools like you should tremble in our passing.”

“
Good talk, kid,” Arn said flatly, reaching out again and
pulling the air irresistibly toward him. Ezra had a moment of
weightlessness, lifted from his feet by the wind. He closed his
eyes. He tightened his grip on the sword. And he turned his left
hand, held cupped at his side, and flicked the lit match into the
swirling vortex of sawdust. The world exploded into heat and light
as the sawdust ignited. Ezra peeked out one eye to see flames
funneling toward the beckoning wind-scarred. He got a moment's
glimpse of the abject terror on Arn's face before it vanished in
the inferno.

“
Blighted fire-kissed lunatic!” Arn screamed from within the
blazing whirlwind. A hand appeared, already red and blistered,
sweeping out through the wall of flame. Ezra gulped and readied the
sword in front of him, holding it out with both hands as he hurtled
toward the writhing mass of wind and heat. Suddenly his flight
ended. He hit the grounding running, keeping what momentum he
could. Fire engulfed the sword's tip. Arn's hand flipped over, palm
down, and slammed toward the floor, flattening a circle of sawdust
and smothering the flames. He snarled madly, “I'm
gonna-”