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Salamander Hill
Copyright © 2004, S. Y. Affolee

12

Breaking the Barrier

Dash sat by the window, fedora tucked down, coat wrapped around his body. The wind that had been blowing from the south, hot and humid, had trickled out leaving a cold breezy void oozing in from the east. Something was out there and if they chose to ambush them again during the night, well, they won’t be surprised again, but that didn’t mean that they were prepared for whatever trick they wanted to use this time.

The cloud cover raced above, but there wasn’t much to see. The occasional break gave out the few stars or the waning moon, but otherwise, it was very dark. He placed a hand on the window sill, the dry, warped wood feeling strangely warm under his fingers. There was something odd about this place although he couldn’t sense anything dangerous. The others didn’t seem too perturbed about making camp in one of these shanties so he supposed his lack of gut feeling about the place wasn’t too far off.

In a few hours, he was to wake Ficket for the next watch. He rubbed his face, the stubble grazing his palms. Maybe he should just grow a beard. It would eliminate the inconvenience of shaving. But then Prudence would make fun of him of trying to look like an uncivilized mountain man. But why should he care what some female trouver thought about his appearance?

Another glimmer of moonlight shot through the clouds. The window looked toward the east. At first, he didn’t see anything, but then there was something rippling the air. It’s only a mirage, he told himself. It’s only sleep deprivation. The mind is just making up illusions. But the rippling was not so random as a mirage. It looked like there was a transparent barrier at the edge of the abandoned town and something was on the other side attempting to get through.

A rustle from his sleeping companions briefly drew his attention away from the disturbing phenomenon. Altner had arisen from where he had slept and padded toward him.

“You see something.” It was a statement from the wilderness guide, not a question.

Dash jerked his head toward the window. “See for yourself. Do you think we should wake the others? Or at least Pru?”

Altner contemplated the rippling air for a moment and then yawned. “Perhaps it’s just a ghost.”

“Maybe.”

“Wake me first if something changes. When it’s Ficket’s turn, just tell him it’s a mirage or something.”

Altner went back to bed. Dash turned to watch the rippling air again. Was it going to try to get through no matter what? And more importantly, what was blocking it? Did it suddenly appear there that night, or had it always been there? And if it was always there, why were they allowed to pass?

* * *

Prudence awoke with a start as something rough and wet grazed her cheek. She sat up suddenly, intending to push some over happy male off her except she found Scamp growling, miffed. The puma curled back on her haunches and chided her again with another growl. She sighed and pushed her blankets off. A trickle of gray light came through the shack’s small window. Ficket, who had taken the second night shift was snoozing, still deep asleep. Dash was also asleep, but not for long. It looked like Scamp was intending to also wake the trouver the same way that she had subjected Prudence. Altner was nowhere to be found—at least inside.

Quickly, she put her things together and rinsed her mouth with some water from her canteen and stepped outside. By this time, Dash had awoken, albeit with some cursing due to Scamp’s methods, and Ficket was yawning himself awake. Altner was standing against the side of the warped shack, his eyes far off, toward the direction that they had traveled from. On the edge of the abandoned town, there was a ripple of red-tinged air. Prudence found herself gaping and rubbing her eyes. What were they up against now?

In the gray morning light, the air not only wavered but pulsed as if it was a slow beating heart. Something was trying to get through the town’s strange defenses. They couldn’t see anything, but there was definitely something. Perhaps it was the Others following their trail after Prudence and the others had killed the wolf walker. Or it might be another of the Authority’s creatures sent to dispatch them. By the time she had taken a position next to Altner who only acknowledged her presence with a curt nod, Dash and Ficket had stepped out of the shed. Dash didn’t seem too surprised, but Ficket gave a gasp of alarm.

“I wonder why it didn’t try to go around and try to catch us when we pass through this town,” said Dash.

“It knows that we’re going to make the stand here,” Altner replied.

Ficket licked his lips nervously. “You think it’s going to tire itself out once it breaks through?”

“What is it?” added Prudence.

The wilderness guide shrugged. “I think it must be one of the Others themselves. Look out, it’s breaking through.”

The shimmering air brightened considerably at the middle as if it was being torn. In the next few seconds, the air from the middle outward stopped rippling as if something were pushing them aside and something appeared in the center. Not exactly something, but someone—a figure on a horse, a man with a cowboy hat pushed down low over his forehead and something sparkling on his vest.

Prudence grabbed one of her guns. “It’s the sheriff from Copper Run!”

The horse and rider charged, and the rider—the sheriff—brandished something shining in his hand. Shots rang out and the four travelers dove for cover. The sheriff’s mount reared and neighed as if it was a demon itself. Maybe it was.

Prudence and Dash took aim at the heart. Ficket shot at the head. The sheriff’s body jerked as the trouvers’ bullets went through his body. Ficket’s shot went wild and only succeeded in knocking off his hat. The sheriff only gripped the reigns of his horse harder to wheel the animal around for another charge. There was no blood on the sheriff’s vest, he only grinned as if daring them to shoot him again. Prudence this time took aim for the head and didn’t miss. His head jerked once as the bullet passed through, but it was as if it was only going through a pillow than bone. The bullet ricocheted off one of the buildings with a zing. Prudence snarled and tried to take aim again, but Altner stilled her elbow.

“It won’t work,” said the wilderness guide. “We have to try something else.”

“Come out, you blasphemers!” the sheriff shouted at them. “The minister was right about your use of magic—but I got through your flimsy barrier, didn’t I? With the power vested to me from the Authority, you will all be destroyed!”

“He must be bespelled,” Prudence murmured. She and Altner were behind one of the doorways of the town shacks. Ficket and Dash were on the opposite side of the road peering from behind another doorway. The sheriff was on the road, slightly out of their view. He seemed to be waiting for a signal from them.

Altner’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “I’m afraid this might get messy. Can you get a good view of his gun hand?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good. Try to get his gun out of his hand and leave the rest up to me.”

She looked at the wilderness guide skeptically, but did as he said, setting sights on the shining gun. She pulled her trigger, and just like the tin cans on the fence that she had practiced on when she was younger, the sheriff’s gun jumped out of his hand and clattered several yards away on the road at the bang of her gun.

“What the…”

The wilderness guide suddenly exploded out of the doorway, brandishing his sword with a yell.

The sheriff’s eyes widened fractionally as he immediately pulled out another gun from his belt, aiming it at Altner.

Prudence gasped, and tried to get an aim at the sheriff’s other hand, but from her vantage point, it was out of view, behind the horse’s head. But before she could try guessing where it was, another shot rang out and the sheriff’s hand jerked as his gun fell to the ground. It was Dash who had the better view and the quicker reflexes.

By this time, Altner was already upon the sheriff, blade slashing downward and to the side. The sheriff gave a garbled yell and surprised, his mount suddenly reared up, pawing the air with his hooves. The top half of the sheriff was flung back into the ground, the legs and the bottom torso still gripping the horse. Blood now spurted out, coating the road in a dark red, dribbles falling in a trail as the frightened horse galloped back where it came from. The sheriff’s half corpse laid in a growing pool of blood. Prudence turned her head and tried to suck in air. She had seen very serious and bloody wounds before, but somehow this made her feel like retching. And from the sounds coming from the opposite side of the road, Ficket already was.

Altner wiped his blade on a nearby clump of grass and sheathed his sword. “All right, let’s get out of here. I think he was just a sort of messenger.”

Dash made sure his gaze was away from the corpse. The job was done, but he didn’t want to look at any more gruesomeness than he had too. If that made him a wimp, so be it, but it didn’t seem like his traveling companions cared too much about that at the moment anyway. Prudence took in another breath at the doorway and met his eyes. She looked pale and troubled and something inside of him cracked. But she then turned her head and that brief contact was broken.