battered two soldiers to the ground. Nibbler’s flames pushed back Shades, and Darkmount’s hands shaped weapon after weapon from the stone floor with which to attack his opponents. Looking over their heads she stared at the torrent of enemies that filled the tunnel and swept down the staircase like a never-ending tide.
Shaking herself free from her stupor, Charlie turned and ran.
Down the tunnel towards hell.
15
Bounty Hunters
Jensen, Kelko and Sic Boy, cramped and tired, were slowly lulled into a shallow, fitful sleep by the rocking and bumping of the wagon. Occasionally they were slapped awake by the cruel guard, but soon returned to their restless slumber. They had tried and tested their bonds, wiggled fingers at each other in the hope of communicating some formula for escape, but other than that there was very little with which to occupy their minds.
A slow rumble intruded on their hazy dreams, growing in volume until it reverberated into a resounding tha-thud, tha-thud.
The wagon driver called out, ‘Whoa-whoa!’ and with a crack of his whip forced the horses off the side of the road. Jensen and Kelko craned their necks over the side of the wagon to stare in disbelief as the Widow Brigade, very much unexpected this far into the Great Plains, marched past.
‘What’s your business?’ snarled a captain as he rode up to the wagon on a rearing rhinospider. ‘State it quickly or see your heads parted from your necks!’
‘W-we’re c-carrying prisoners to the Soul Mines of Zhartoum,’ stammered the driver as he watched the sharp tip of the captain’s halberd swaying mere inches from the end of his nose. ‘On express orders from our lord himself.’
‘Show me your papers,’ snapped the captain.
The guard hastily rummaged through the small box secured beneath the driving bench. Finding the papers, he presented them with a smug look on his piggish face.
The captain scanned them and, finding them legitimate, relaxed somewhat. ‘Apologies for the rough approach, lads. But we’ve strict orders to silence all eyes that witness our passing.’
The driver and the guard shared a panicked look.
‘Don’t worry!’ snorted the captain as he caught the exchange. ‘That doesn’t apply to our militia going about legitimate business.’ The driver and guard let out a thankful sigh.
The driver stared at the passing banners and military standards. ‘I thought the Widow Brigade was stationed at the Western Mountains?’
‘We were.’ The captain grinned. ‘But now we’re on a path to greater things. In alliance with the First Army we’re on our way to stamp the towers of Sylvaris into the ground. Our lord has offered to pay all his soldiers a blood price for every Treman nose delivered to his Throne Room.’ The captain pulled two sacks from his saddlebags. ‘If I can fill these with green noses I’ll be rich beyond my wildest dreams!’
With a throaty laugh of delight he turned his arachnid mount and galloped off, adding the dust of his passing to the great cloud already kicked up by the passing of thousands of booted feet.
The guard turned to look at the two prisoners with a speculative eye only to get a slap round the back of his head.
‘Stop that!’ insisted the driver. ‘Take their noses and we’ll not only lose our bonus, but we’ll lose this cushy job. And if you think that’s worth it, imagine where you’ll be drafted to next.’ The driver waved a thumb in the direction of the First Army. ‘Right in with that lot of grunts. Is that what you want? Marching for miles each day on an empty stomach, being ordered around by snotty-nosed colonels and gut-punching sergeants?’
‘No. Now that you mention it … no.’ The guard pushed his dagger back into its sheath and settled into his seat.
In the wagon, Jenson and Kelko, gagged as they were, needed no words to express their horror at what they had heard. Powerless to act, they had to wait three long hours before Bane’s mighty army had snaked its deadly way past them towards their beloved home of Sylvaris.
Bane’s bounty for Charlie Keeper was carried across the land. Heralds in elegant livery and town criers in rich robes shouted the announcement in hamlets, villages, towns and cities. Word began to travel far and wide and those motivated by the colour of gold and the twinkle of jewels pricked up their ears. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, cutpurses, bandits, soldiers of fortune, bootstraps and backstabbers gathered in throngs.
The Scarlet Poison Gang, the Scaramanga Triplets, the Forty Swords, the Band of Thirteen, the Liver Eaters and