Copper dirt swirled as the steel stiletto hit the ground at a run. Runes rising in black ink up the white calf glistened with sweat. The ground undulated little, with the corpses of those already fallen in Hira’s path. Fixed grins, doused in blood, coaxed her with promises of rest, to lay down her arms. She grinned herself, the circling carrion birds would have to content themselves with the decaying bodies at her feet. Like a torch the noonday sun set her long red tresses afire. For once, she wished she had short black hair, something inconspicuous in this valley of the damned. Any hope of outrunning the Strangers with their silver blade guns never crossed her mind, which was why she took the fight to them.
Three Strangers with their faces shaded by brimmed hats had their backs to her. The cutting edge of the blade guns strapped to their backs followed the curvature of their spines. They still missed her approach, preoccupied with a staked body at their feet. Familiar strength rushed through Hira as she flexed the arm that supported the Reaper Scythe. Blood from the last Stranger she had encountered still coated its keen edge.
A sun-browned hand wiped away a line of sweat that had collected beneath the band of the Stranger’s hat when Hira’s scythe bit into his neck. Drowning on his blood, the Stranger saw his companions spring into the air, their coats unfurling like black angel wings. The woman with the long red hair step passed him.
Flexing her fingers on the hilt of the Reaper Scythe Hira watched the Strangers flit to her left and right. Neither had reached for their weapons, for now they were content to create distance between her and them. Behind her, the fallen body no longer interested her, but the final death rattle intruded enough to part her lips in a smile.
The Stranger to her left swept his hat from his head uncovering long white hair that grew in a scarecrow’s thatch. His eyes were piercing blue behind dark lashes. ‘You’re as deadly as a viper’s bite,’ he remarked.
The other Stranger remained silent, even hidden within the shadow thrown by his hat Hira could feel his eyes snake across her body. She guessed the tattoos tracing her ribs in ancient script held only momentary attraction.
The white haired Stranger rubbed a finger against his stubble. ‘Death attracts death. This land is still hungry, and it thanks you for your offering. Companion Veelus,’ he said indicating the crumpled body of the slain Stranger, ‘probably feels differently. He always courted death too closely; perhaps he thought himself safe from her cold embrace.’
‘You’re all Strangers to me,’ said Hira. With a twist of her wrist, she shed the blood from her blade. The sun-baked floor lapped up the liquid greedily.
‘That’s not right, I’m Namber and that silent fellow is Bentos,’ said Namber, sweeping down into a bow.
‘You’re Strangers, and Strangers you will remain,’ said Hira.
The silent Stranger ground his heel into the ground. Beneath the long coat, crimson armour courted his torso. His long gun remained on his back, but Hira knew how quick the hand could find the weapon.
The circling crows raised their raucous call as they waited to glut themselves on the fresh flesh below.
‘Your different from these others,’ said Namber, indicating for the first time the staked body of a soldier. Salt caked the dead soldier’s lips, but no wounds were apparent on his front. ‘They fight together, in formations. Scatter them and they panic. I’ve seen soldiers kill their own men to gain the safety of your camps.’ He sneered. ‘You refuse to try and escape.’
‘The valley is long and broad. You, or another Stranger, would’ve seen me. Besides,’ she flicked her hair over shoulder, ‘where’s the fun in running.’
Namber laughed, crinkling his skin into untidy folds. ‘I never run.’
Hira’s eyes were quick, but even then, she almost missed the Stranger take his weapon from his back in one smooth motion. The blade of the gun screamed from its holster. Arching her back, until her head touched the ground, Hira felt the wind of the bullet as it passed close to her chest. Using the shaft of her scythe for balance she flipped to the left, missing the second bullet as it thudded into the packed earth.
‘Impressive,’ Namber remarked as Hira landed in a ready stance.
Without reply Hira shot out her arm, shooting the scythe forward. Only as the last of the leather binding was passing her fingers did she tighten her hold. The curved blade quivered in the air, and if not for the chorus of birds, they would have heard its metal hum. It touched the protruding blade of the gun carried by the silent Stranger knocking his shot wide.
During such encounters when speed protected more than steel Hira thanked her teacher for his wisdom. Her joints remained free from the little armour she wore. To fight the Strangers, reaction would keep her alive.
Running to the right, she circled the white haired Stranger waiting for him to lose track of her. She only needed him to have a momentarily lapse and it would mean his death. More retorts from the gun pierced the air, scattering the birds once more. Moving in a winding run Hira dodged the flying metal. Her long legs carried her quickly, and as she did, she reached out with the Reaper Scythe, probing for lapses in their defences. Both Strangers were agile enough to evade her attacks.
Her sweat slick skin caught the blazing sun in a golden sheen. Realising she expelled too much energy Hira came to a halt, and as she did the silent Stranger jumped into the air, raining down a deadly hail. Her scythe came up as a shield, deflecting the bullets that scattered from her in a deathening crescendo.
Behind the raised scythe, her green eyes narrowed. She waited, controlling her breathing. When she struck, her actions were a blur of motion. The Stranger parried the first wave of attack as Hira met him in the air. Sparks flew as scythe met the blade of the gun. Finally, with a turn of her wrist Hira severed the hand holding the gun blade. Her tattoos blazed up her spine, keeping her airborne for a few extra moments as the Stranger fell in a sprinkling crimson shower.
Taking joy in the moment Hira’s concentration faltered for a moment. Namber’s bullet struck her shoulder, spinning her through the air. The breath expelled from her chest in one massive explosion as she landed. Winded she could not move.
‘That wasn’t nice,’ said Namber. ‘Why couldn’t you be nice? Two Strangers,’ he hissed the name she used through his teeth, ‘dead. We aren’t meat for the birds. That’s for those who’re less than we are. Like you, and this rabble you call The Risen Army.’ He laughed. ‘Risen, more like Sunken Army. Look around - breathe in the blood. The blood is not ours - it’s yours. You bleed for your land.’
‘I can smell Strangers’ blood,’ said Hira, casting her eyes to the Stranger she first killed.
Namber kicked her side, making her buck in pain.
‘I said be nice. Someone like you should be nice,’ he whispered as his finger touched the back of her leg. ‘You owe me nice.’
Controlling her breathing Hira concentrated on her shoulder where the bullet had entered. The Stranger’s stroking hand on her thigh only touched the back of her mind, a repulsive worm trying to tear her concentration away from her wound. She knew if she were a man, she would have little time, but as the Stranger’s touch became more fevered, she felt the familiar heat rise from the ink that touched her collarbone.
‘A warrior is hard, willing to hone the flesh into an instrument of war,’ said Namber. ‘You’re a warrior, hard and unyielding.’ His hands moved up Hira’s side, brushing against the lines of her stomach. For a moment, his fingers grasped her hair, tugging her head back with a sudden pull. ‘Yet, you aren’t all warrior. There’s softness as well as the hard muscle,’ he continued as his hand cupped her breast inside her scaled armour.
The tattoo blazed hot. Already the skin around Hira’s shoulder began to knit the wound, stopping the flow of blood. It remained numb; in time that would pass. For now, she lay still, listening to the stinking breath of the Stranger pass his rotten teeth. His long coat, spread over them like a rotten shroud, trapping the heat of their bodies close as the Stranger fumbled at her flesh.
‘Bentos wanted you,’ said Namber, giving her breast a cruel pinch as he mentioned his fallen comrade’s name. ‘You should be happy it’s me and not him. He had the taste for human flesh. Many who live in the mountains have. Times are hard when the snow falls.’
He thinks I’m helpless, Hira thought as her shoulder regained feeling. Her teeth shone as her lips peeled back. She felt his breastplate’s rough leather scrape against her back as he laid his weight upon her.
‘You have to tell me about these tattoos,’ said Namber, tracing a black vine that followed Hira’s skin up her spine.
‘Only a Stranger wouldn’t know about them,’ replied Hira, twisting her body.
Namber, taken by surprise, fell backward. Before he could regain his balance, Hira sprang forward, planting her knee against his throat.
Pressing down with her leg, Hira peered into the strained red face of the Stranger. ‘These tattoos are my protection. You thought I fought alone.’ Her laugh unsettled the bird’s more than the retort of the earlier guns. ‘Each mark on my body serves me.’ She pressed her leg down harder, making him choke. ‘Look close at my leg and you’ll see the rune of Arksam. Some call him the runner, for his power is his speed. My body,’ Hira said, moving her head forward so that her long red hair fell to mingle with the Stranger’s white, ‘is a place of worship. You can pray to it now, if you think it will do you any good. Stranger.’ She spat the name.
The crunch of the man’s windpipe felt better than a cold drink after a long run. She cast her sights around the clearing. Three dead Strangers and the man staked to the ground stared up at the sky. Their slackened jaws did not speak to her of rest. Picking up the Reaper Scythe Hira threaded the long haft through the leather loops, fastening the long weapon to her back. Turning to leave she noticed the Stranger’s hat, skipping slowly across the ground. Stopping its dance with her foot, she stooped over, and brushing the dust from the cloth placed the wide brimmed hat on her head. With her face cloistered in shadow, Hira turned and faced the valley.
Three Strangers with their faces shaded by brimmed hats had their backs to her. The cutting edge of the blade guns strapped to their backs followed the curvature of their spines. They still missed her approach, preoccupied with a staked body at their feet. Familiar strength rushed through Hira as she flexed the arm that supported the Reaper Scythe. Blood from the last Stranger she had encountered still coated its keen edge.
A sun-browned hand wiped away a line of sweat that had collected beneath the band of the Stranger’s hat when Hira’s scythe bit into his neck. Drowning on his blood, the Stranger saw his companions spring into the air, their coats unfurling like black angel wings. The woman with the long red hair step passed him.
Flexing her fingers on the hilt of the Reaper Scythe Hira watched the Strangers flit to her left and right. Neither had reached for their weapons, for now they were content to create distance between her and them. Behind her, the fallen body no longer interested her, but the final death rattle intruded enough to part her lips in a smile.
The Stranger to her left swept his hat from his head uncovering long white hair that grew in a scarecrow’s thatch. His eyes were piercing blue behind dark lashes. ‘You’re as deadly as a viper’s bite,’ he remarked.
The other Stranger remained silent, even hidden within the shadow thrown by his hat Hira could feel his eyes snake across her body. She guessed the tattoos tracing her ribs in ancient script held only momentary attraction.
The white haired Stranger rubbed a finger against his stubble. ‘Death attracts death. This land is still hungry, and it thanks you for your offering. Companion Veelus,’ he said indicating the crumpled body of the slain Stranger, ‘probably feels differently. He always courted death too closely; perhaps he thought himself safe from her cold embrace.’
‘You’re all Strangers to me,’ said Hira. With a twist of her wrist, she shed the blood from her blade. The sun-baked floor lapped up the liquid greedily.
‘That’s not right, I’m Namber and that silent fellow is Bentos,’ said Namber, sweeping down into a bow.
‘You’re Strangers, and Strangers you will remain,’ said Hira.
The silent Stranger ground his heel into the ground. Beneath the long coat, crimson armour courted his torso. His long gun remained on his back, but Hira knew how quick the hand could find the weapon.
The circling crows raised their raucous call as they waited to glut themselves on the fresh flesh below.
‘Your different from these others,’ said Namber, indicating for the first time the staked body of a soldier. Salt caked the dead soldier’s lips, but no wounds were apparent on his front. ‘They fight together, in formations. Scatter them and they panic. I’ve seen soldiers kill their own men to gain the safety of your camps.’ He sneered. ‘You refuse to try and escape.’
‘The valley is long and broad. You, or another Stranger, would’ve seen me. Besides,’ she flicked her hair over shoulder, ‘where’s the fun in running.’
Namber laughed, crinkling his skin into untidy folds. ‘I never run.’
Hira’s eyes were quick, but even then, she almost missed the Stranger take his weapon from his back in one smooth motion. The blade of the gun screamed from its holster. Arching her back, until her head touched the ground, Hira felt the wind of the bullet as it passed close to her chest. Using the shaft of her scythe for balance she flipped to the left, missing the second bullet as it thudded into the packed earth.
‘Impressive,’ Namber remarked as Hira landed in a ready stance.
Without reply Hira shot out her arm, shooting the scythe forward. Only as the last of the leather binding was passing her fingers did she tighten her hold. The curved blade quivered in the air, and if not for the chorus of birds, they would have heard its metal hum. It touched the protruding blade of the gun carried by the silent Stranger knocking his shot wide.
During such encounters when speed protected more than steel Hira thanked her teacher for his wisdom. Her joints remained free from the little armour she wore. To fight the Strangers, reaction would keep her alive.
Running to the right, she circled the white haired Stranger waiting for him to lose track of her. She only needed him to have a momentarily lapse and it would mean his death. More retorts from the gun pierced the air, scattering the birds once more. Moving in a winding run Hira dodged the flying metal. Her long legs carried her quickly, and as she did, she reached out with the Reaper Scythe, probing for lapses in their defences. Both Strangers were agile enough to evade her attacks.
Her sweat slick skin caught the blazing sun in a golden sheen. Realising she expelled too much energy Hira came to a halt, and as she did the silent Stranger jumped into the air, raining down a deadly hail. Her scythe came up as a shield, deflecting the bullets that scattered from her in a deathening crescendo.
Behind the raised scythe, her green eyes narrowed. She waited, controlling her breathing. When she struck, her actions were a blur of motion. The Stranger parried the first wave of attack as Hira met him in the air. Sparks flew as scythe met the blade of the gun. Finally, with a turn of her wrist Hira severed the hand holding the gun blade. Her tattoos blazed up her spine, keeping her airborne for a few extra moments as the Stranger fell in a sprinkling crimson shower.
Taking joy in the moment Hira’s concentration faltered for a moment. Namber’s bullet struck her shoulder, spinning her through the air. The breath expelled from her chest in one massive explosion as she landed. Winded she could not move.
‘That wasn’t nice,’ said Namber. ‘Why couldn’t you be nice? Two Strangers,’ he hissed the name she used through his teeth, ‘dead. We aren’t meat for the birds. That’s for those who’re less than we are. Like you, and this rabble you call The Risen Army.’ He laughed. ‘Risen, more like Sunken Army. Look around - breathe in the blood. The blood is not ours - it’s yours. You bleed for your land.’
‘I can smell Strangers’ blood,’ said Hira, casting her eyes to the Stranger she first killed.
Namber kicked her side, making her buck in pain.
‘I said be nice. Someone like you should be nice,’ he whispered as his finger touched the back of her leg. ‘You owe me nice.’
Controlling her breathing Hira concentrated on her shoulder where the bullet had entered. The Stranger’s stroking hand on her thigh only touched the back of her mind, a repulsive worm trying to tear her concentration away from her wound. She knew if she were a man, she would have little time, but as the Stranger’s touch became more fevered, she felt the familiar heat rise from the ink that touched her collarbone.
‘A warrior is hard, willing to hone the flesh into an instrument of war,’ said Namber. ‘You’re a warrior, hard and unyielding.’ His hands moved up Hira’s side, brushing against the lines of her stomach. For a moment, his fingers grasped her hair, tugging her head back with a sudden pull. ‘Yet, you aren’t all warrior. There’s softness as well as the hard muscle,’ he continued as his hand cupped her breast inside her scaled armour.
The tattoo blazed hot. Already the skin around Hira’s shoulder began to knit the wound, stopping the flow of blood. It remained numb; in time that would pass. For now, she lay still, listening to the stinking breath of the Stranger pass his rotten teeth. His long coat, spread over them like a rotten shroud, trapping the heat of their bodies close as the Stranger fumbled at her flesh.
‘Bentos wanted you,’ said Namber, giving her breast a cruel pinch as he mentioned his fallen comrade’s name. ‘You should be happy it’s me and not him. He had the taste for human flesh. Many who live in the mountains have. Times are hard when the snow falls.’
He thinks I’m helpless, Hira thought as her shoulder regained feeling. Her teeth shone as her lips peeled back. She felt his breastplate’s rough leather scrape against her back as he laid his weight upon her.
‘You have to tell me about these tattoos,’ said Namber, tracing a black vine that followed Hira’s skin up her spine.
‘Only a Stranger wouldn’t know about them,’ replied Hira, twisting her body.
Namber, taken by surprise, fell backward. Before he could regain his balance, Hira sprang forward, planting her knee against his throat.
Pressing down with her leg, Hira peered into the strained red face of the Stranger. ‘These tattoos are my protection. You thought I fought alone.’ Her laugh unsettled the bird’s more than the retort of the earlier guns. ‘Each mark on my body serves me.’ She pressed her leg down harder, making him choke. ‘Look close at my leg and you’ll see the rune of Arksam. Some call him the runner, for his power is his speed. My body,’ Hira said, moving her head forward so that her long red hair fell to mingle with the Stranger’s white, ‘is a place of worship. You can pray to it now, if you think it will do you any good. Stranger.’ She spat the name.
The crunch of the man’s windpipe felt better than a cold drink after a long run. She cast her sights around the clearing. Three dead Strangers and the man staked to the ground stared up at the sky. Their slackened jaws did not speak to her of rest. Picking up the Reaper Scythe Hira threaded the long haft through the leather loops, fastening the long weapon to her back. Turning to leave she noticed the Stranger’s hat, skipping slowly across the ground. Stopping its dance with her foot, she stooped over, and brushing the dust from the cloth placed the wide brimmed hat on her head. With her face cloistered in shadow, Hira turned and faced the valley.