53. Divide and Conquer
53 – Divide and Conquer
Andy tensed, ready to spring into action. He might not be able to avoid that arrow, but he could maybe mitigate the damage—
“Hold up!” a woman said, her voice instantly making connections in Andy’s head. She was one of the four people the Hardheads had used as “bait.”
Andy watched as the man with the bow tilted the arrow down. He kept the string back, though. Even as he waited to see what was going to happen, Andy sidestepped, moving further from the wash, aiming for a flat area dotted with prickly pears. He needed to keep moving if he was going to avoid the people hunting him.
“We don’t want to fight,” the woman whispered, holding up an empty left hand and lowering her hatchet down by her side.
Andy narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re with them.” He jerked his head over his shoulder back toward the sounds of his pursuers, who seemed to be moving further away.
“Why do you think Rhodes picked us as bait? We don’t get along.”
Andy stared at her for a couple of seconds. She looked sincere, but who was he to judge? It wasn’t like he had some magical truth-telling ability. One thing was certain, though; he didn’t have time to fight four people, even if he thought he could win—not with another seven on his heels. “Let me go, then.”
The woman had long, straight hair, and she flicked it over her shoulder as she looked at the others in her group, focusing on the guy with the bow. “Oscar?”
The older man nodded, his salt and pepper stubble making his face hard to discern in the dark. “Screw it.”
Andy started to step away, still watching them warily. “Well, thanks…”
“I’m Shawna!” the woman whispered suddenly. “We…we don’t want to be with them. Can we talk again? Tomorrow, maybe?”
Andy nodded. “Come to the trail. I’ll hear you out.” With that, he turned and jogged away, aiming for a distant mesquite and the inviting shadows under its branches. While he ran, he swore he could feel a tingling spot in his back as he anticipated an arrow sprouting there any second. It never came, though, and soon he was slipping away into the shadows of the mesquite, and then further on, past a big, bristling cholla. He had his eyes fixed on the Catalinas and was fully under the effect of Twilight Steps, trying to hurry to the settlement to help his friends.
He might not have killed the people who’d stayed behind to track him down, but he’d certainly slowed them down, and he was pretty sure they were hunting for him in the wrong direction. That had to be worth something, right? He’d taken seven combatants out of the fight and, hopefully, slowed everyone down enough for Lucy and the others to make it to the trail leading up to the plateau. He was just worried about the leader—Rhodes. He’d had that horse…
Andy shook his head, pushing the thought to the back of his mind; there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment. Step one was to ensure he got away, and he still had to worry about Bree’s bird and whatever magic tracking ability that wizard guy seemed to have. So far, it didn’t seem like they were onto him, which made him wonder how effective his level three Veil of the Stalker was; could it keep the bird from spotting him? Could it make it harder for the wizard? Andy wondered how often that guy could do that tracking trick. He’d already looked exhausted from hiding all those people.
He darted around a stand of greasewood bushes and nearly charged into a monstrous, red-eyed javelina as it rooted around at the base of a large prickly pear. Andy darted to the left, trusting his abilities to keep him hidden as he skirted the creature. If he weren’t in the middle of something a little more important, he might have tried to kill it; surely a three-hundred-pound javelina with foot-long tusks would be worth some experience—maybe meat, too.
As it was, he had to worry about what he was going to do next, and all he had was a vague idea that he wanted to catch the people who’d chased his friends. Would they be assaulting the plateau? Would they give up and retreat when they saw how difficult the approach was? If they were fighting, Andy intended to give them a reason to watch their backs.
At the pace he could run with Twilight Steps, and assuming the people hunting him didn’t figure out he was heading back to the plateau right away, he figured he’d have ten or twenty minutes to help make a difference before those reinforcements came—maybe longer if they stopped to help the big guy with the sword Andy had stabbed. Surely a puncture like that would need some bandaging.
Andy glided through the night, every step under his spell’s influence like two for a normal person. Coupled with his ability to see clearly in the dark, which enabled him to avoid obstacles and potential threats, his progress was remarkably swift. It was so fast, in fact, that when he caught sight of the gravel road leading to the trailer park, he began to wonder if he’d catch his enemies before they even reached the settlement.
He scanned the brush-covered berm, looking for the bright signature of a living person, but it was clear, so he climbed up onto the road and stared toward the settlement; it was a good mile or mile and a half distant, so he couldn’t see if there was something going on up there—if they were fighting or running or worse—but he also didn’t see any figures on the road closer to where he was. Nodding, gathering his breath, Andy took off running again, sliding down the loose scree to the desert with its shrubs and cacti where it bordered the road.
He intended to arrive unseen, and he couldn’t do that running flat out on the smooth, gravel-covered surface. He had to use the shadows. So, sprinting from one clump of desert plant life to another, he made rapid progress toward the plateau. All the while, he continually scanned up toward the road, hoping to catch one of his enemies unaware. He listened and he tried to pay attention to the smells coming in with each pounding breath, but, despite his improved senses, he was a human, and he’d lived all his life as a human; it was hard to concentrate on and separate the various smells that came into his lungs all jumbled together.
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He ran like that for several minutes. As he went, his feet made almost no sound, thanks to his abilities, and even though his steady, heavy breathing created quite a din inside his head, he picked up voices coming from the road ahead, and he slowed. He drifted through the shadows, past a big creosote bush, and, working hard to keep his breath steady, he peered around it, toward the road.
“…ain’t trying to get shot,” said a youthful, masculine voice.
“Same. Glad he sent us to get the others. That little fucker up there with the bow…” This was another masculine voice, but older with a distinct northeastern accent. Andy was no expert, but it sounded like someone from New York to him.
“Dude! Can’t believe he got Rhodes’ horse! He was pissed! Did you see his arm?”
As the other man laughed at their leader’s expense, Andy watched them walk past on the road, their shoes crunching on the gravel. He hesitated, but only for a second; these men were part of a group attacking his settlement. They didn’t sound remorseful, and, worse, they were going to get help. However much he hated attacking strangers in the night, he had to face the facts that he was at war with these people, and for all he knew, Rhodes and his other “soldiers” were on their way up toward the trailer park even as he hesitated.
Andy darted out from behind the creosote, chose a target—the guy on the right—and drove his spear eight inches into his soft lower back. As the man screamed and whirled, Andy drew the spear back and knocked aside his partner’s haphazard attempt to lash out with a big wood-cutting axe. His spear darted forward, catching the second man right in the armpit and sinking in four or five inches. Both men were yelling and cursing by then, but Andy was relentless. He pulled the spear back and stabbed again, this time in the man’s belly.
Part of him wondered why it was so easy. Why weren’t they better at fighting by now? Hadn’t they gained some levels? Hadn’t they put some points into their weapon skills? Could surprise explain so much? Could initiative really lead to another one-sided victory? It didn’t seem possible to him, but there it was: three more quick jabs and both men were on the ground, bleeding out, their flesh dimming in Andy’s weird Reaper’s Sight.
He left them there, turning to face the plateau again. He was much closer now, and his excellent eyesight allowed him to pick out the bright forms of men and women hunkering for cover behind creosotes and cacti—no doubt trying to avoid being Lucy’s next victim. She was only one person, though, and there were seven or eight enemies at the base of the trail, and who knew what kinds of skills or spells they might employ? Who knew how many ranged weapons they might have? All it would take was one lucky shot, and that would be the end of Lucy.
Andy started jogging through the desert again, intent on flanking the group of enemies on the left. It bothered him that the two men he’d just killed hadn’t been hurrying. Was Rhodes so confident that he thought he could besiege the trailer park, taking his sweet time while more of his violent friends came to join in on the fun? Andy scowled at the thought; there were enough people in that trailer park that they ought to be able to charge down that path and put an end to these attackers.
It was a mindset, he supposed. It took a certain point of view to grab a weapon and go out into the dark, intent on fighting other people to the death. They saw Rhodes and his people out there, and they were scared—rightly so; these were violent people willing to face violence and visit it upon complete strangers. Andy hoped he’d be able to help the people of his settlement come to grips with the necessity for a certain…capacity for violence, but he supposed he just had to let some things happen at their own pace.
It turned out his mental image of what was happening proved to be more than a little off. The people at the base of the path weren’t just enemies. He heard sounds of fighting—yelling, cursing, and the clack and smack of weapons and fists hitting home. “Shit,” Andy breathed, picking up the pace and charging toward the first cluster of bright figures.
When he came charging into the big clearing where they’d burned the bodies, he saw Omar, Bella, and another man named Dwayne fighting two attackers. As Andy ran over to help, he spotted two bodies in the dirt, and he recognized one of them as Jace Howell, one of the red-skinned cambion people who’d only just joined the settlement. Andy charged toward one of the people they were fighting, and as the guy spun, messing up his aim, Andy stabbed him in the back of his thigh.
He cried out, stumbling, and then Omar finished the job, driving his spear through his throat. The other guy turned to run, but Bella wasn’t having it; she screamed, driving her spear into his back, and then Omar and Dwayne piled on. Dwayne was wielding a wooden baseball bat, driven through with big, heavy-gauge nails. When it thonked onto the enemy fighter’s skull, Andy winced, looking away.
“Where’s Lucy?” he asked.
“Ran up to get more arrows!” Omar gasped, leaning forward on his knees. “We pushed when that big asshole started coming up the trail.” He nodded toward the road. “They were fighting there…”
“I’m on it.” Andy started forward, sprinting to the road, eyes on the trail beyond; he could see figures moving up rapidly. When he got to the cliff, though, he saw several bodies sprawled out, and two weakly moving figures, one of whom was Brian. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should try to render some first aid, but then he thought of Rhodes and his goons getting loose in the trailer park, and he turned to sprint up the trail; Omar could help Brian.
He ran up, faster than was safe, sliding around the first switchback, and he’d just started on the second leg of the trail when a burst of brilliant flames exploded, showering the night with orange and red sparks. Someone screamed, and a flaming figure fell to the trail before him. It was a stranger—someone wearing an expensive raincoat and khaki pants. Andy didn’t hesitate; he stabbed the guy in the neck and kept running. Apparently, his Scorchmark Glyph had worked.
When he rounded the next corner, he saw three men ahead. One was kneeling, tying a makeshift bandage around another’s leg, and Andy approached the trio warily. “Just put your weapons down. Your little assault failed,” he said, leveling his spear.
The guy who’d been doing the bandaging stood up; he wore leather gloves and gripped a medium-sized sledgehammer in his fist. When he turned to face Andy, the hatred and fury in his gaze were palpable. “You piece of shit,” he growled, stalking away from his two companions, directly toward Andy. “Yeah, maybe I underestimated this place, but it just means I’m gonna have more fun when I crack this nut. And I damn well will crack it!”
Andy’s eyes narrowed, and he contemplated a dozen different responses. He thought of clever things he could say. He thought of ways he might try to bargain with the guy to get him to leave. He thought of trying to reason with him, to understand why they ought to work together in this hostile new world. In the end, though, all he did was take one step forward and lunge, stabbing his spear out, quick as a snake’s tongue, toward the asshole’s face.