Journey from the West

Journey from the West

Chapter 3
The Jewish Gunslinger

by
Cursed by Dragons

Water was being passed around to put out the remaining fires. Someone had already sent a deputy out to the next town to fetch the local doctor there, owing to the fact that theirs needed to be cleaned up by a chimney sweeper. People were tending to the wounded as best they could in the meantime. They'd already rounded up volunteers and set aside a hospice. Those that'd escaped the rampage were now either helping out in whatever way they could, or trying to drink the horror away at the local tavern. More than anything, the Sheriff wished he could join them.

Steeling himself, the Sheriff forced down his shock and confusion. He of all people needed to keep a clear head. The Protestant Major would be out for his hide as it was. That tall-eared sodomite and his monster spawn had gotten away in the chaos. Someone had broken into the ostrich stable and swiped two birds. The church ladies had found the stable hand shot and bleeding to death inside a little while ago. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. They were long gone by now, but he wasn't about to let this side. Good people had been hurt here today. Good people didn't deserve to die in such a way, or have their whole lives blown off into the wind.

The Sheriff's eyes darted towards the tavern again, this time eagerly. More than anything, he wanted to drink everything that'd happened in the last twenty-four hours or so away. This was all going to be on his head, regardless of the outcome. No matter what, his bacon was going to fry for letting the tall-eared bastard and his brat lover escape. What more, the mayor had been the one to find him locked up in his own jail cell. He was never going to live that one down.

Resolved to ignore the tavern for now, the Sheriff looked back towards the main road into town and was surprised to see three figures marching towards him. The central figure appeared to be the leader of sorts, and would have set off every warning bell in the Sheriff's noggin were it not obvious the stranger were a member of the Protestant clergy even from that distance. The gentlemen flanking her seemed to be bodyguards of a sort, though dressed to appear more as bankers than roughmen. The Sheriff stood right where he was as more people off to either side began taking note of the scene unfolding. A disquieting silence fell over the crowds as they approached. Without a doubt, the Sheriff knew his executioners had been sent for him. It shouldn't have mattered, but he never would have guessed they'd arrive so soon.

When the clergywoman stood in front of him, the Sheriff finally was able to get a proper glimpse of her face, and was startled to find her more than passably attractive. The men covering her flanks were Templar Knights, to be sure now. Their business suits were a definite contrast to the image he'd always maintained in his mind, but the pins stuck to their vests just below the collar were unmistakable. It hadn't occured to him that the Protestant Major would sent their wetworks boys to finish the job, and him.

"Welcome," said the Sheriff, trying to put a good spin on things. This was a job better suited for the mayor and his brown-nose, but of course, the fat bastard was nowhere to be seen at the moment. "I'm afraid you've come at a rather rough time for us. Is there anything I can get you, Sister...?"

"Marian," she answered swiftly. "Sister Marian. I have come on important business concerning the Major."

"I see," was all the Sheriff could think of.

"Is there someplace we might speak together in private?" she went on, surveying the area. "I realize you are in a most dire set of circumstances at the moment, so let me assure you I will remain as brief as possible. Once our business has concluded, I might then offer my services to anyone who needs them."

"Of course," the Sheriff nodded, feeling his inyards knot up. "The sheriff's office is still sound, structurally speaking, if you don't mind holding conference in there."

Sister Marian glanced towards it and crinkled her nose. "That will do."

Sister Marian took the lead, at the Templar Knights insistance. The Sheriff, though not a timid man by usual standards, found himself very uncomfortable in the presence of the Knights, who wore their guns right out in public. This was a violation of public ordinance in his town, but he wasn't about to be the one to point it out to them. Upon reaching the front door, the Sister remained off to the side, looking pointedly at him, until the Sheriff reached out and opened it for her. It seemed that he was required to show his manners to his death-dealers, as well. Perhaps, in the end, his mother had been right after all...

"I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer you," he began, sitting in one of the available chairs.

"I require nothing," she responded, curtly. "As I said before, this meeting will be brief. On behalf of the Protestant Major, I am here to offer my sincerest condolences and apologies regarding the recent tragedy."

Sister Marian delivered this brief speech in such a deadpan way that the Sheriff thought perhaps at first she was being sarcastic. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The rampage caused by the half-elf's companion," she clarified, looking at him as though he were simple-minded. "I was under the assumption that he was the cause of all this devastation."

"Oh, him. Right," the Sheriff nodded. "We had him taken over to the Doc's to be examined. Not sure what happened afterwards, exactly, but..."

"The chinese Mutate is a victim of severe Alkahest tampering." Sister Marian flexed her hands as she said this, almost as a nervous habit. "Aggrivating him or placing him in a position of severe emotional duress triggers a transformation in him, resulting in more or less what you see outside. Our intelligence had last reported the half-elf and he parting ways after a disagreement of some kind. It would seem, however, that they resolved their difference afterwards and continued traveling together. Upon realizing this, a telegraph was dispacted warning you to scrub the mission assignment given to you. Obviously, it didn't arrive in time."

"We had a telegraph line down for about two days or so," he affirmed. "Nothing got in or out on the line that whole time."

"On his own, the half-elf would've proven to be far more managable for our agent. With the Mutate along, however, things change very quickly. I am told you are to be absolved of all responsibility. The Charity Virgins will be along within the week to provide whatever aid is needed. Until then, can your townspeople manage?"

"These folks have seen far worse in their lifetimes," he said. "One thing confuses the bejeezus outta me, though."

The Sheriff shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then. "Far be it from me to look a gift ostrich in the foot, as the old saying goes, for it might kick the mess outta me, but what's all this really about. When you showed up, I thought for certain you had been sent here to scrub me for failing to finish the job."

Sister Marian's eyes widened. "I was dispatched here the moment we learned you hadn't received our message. Although our Lord does have his all-knowing omniscence, I assure you, Sheriff, that we do not share the same gift. No one anticipated your failure so accurately."

"Oh."

Sister Marian glanced towards the Knights behind her. "There is one other matter of business I wish to consult you with," she said. "In private, however."

Both Knights looked towards Sister Marian's pointed glare, then at the Sheriff. Sheriff himself had no idea what was going on, but both men turned at once and made for the door without a word. The moment they were gone, Sister Marian stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of him. The Sheriff stood up at attention upon her approach, which seemed to suite the Sister quite well.

"Hurry," she ordered. "We don't have much time. If either of them suspect something, they'll come barging in with guns drawn and catch us."

The Sheriff opened his mouth to wonder at what, but found it occupied by the Sister's tongue. "Get out of those pants this instant, you fool," she commanded, shucking her robes to reveal a rather well-formed, naked body underneath. "Damned ordinances require the Knights to remain chaste their whole lives. Otherwise, I'd have just had either one of them bugger me."

"Sister Marian," the Sheriff stammered, even as she gave his breeches a hard yank. "You're a lady of the clergy, and I'm... well, I'm a married man with children."

"Don't disappoint me, Sheriff," she warned, taking the skinny length of him in her hand. "I was willing to overlook your complete fiasco of a failure today. It would be a shame to have to recant on my decision so soon. Besides, I've seen your confessional record, and know for a fact that you've never been the most faithful husband."

The Sheriff's eyes widened as she took him into her mouth. "You mean, those things really exist?" he marveled. "Oh, shit!"

* * * * *

"I'm hungry," Wu mumbled irritably while shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. "How much farther?"

Sylvester ignored him, having answered several times before. At the moment, his index finger stroked the barrel of his rifle above where the trigger was, anxious to fire it. Since they'd made haste out of town, his eyes kept darting back behind them. The skin on his back felt like it was about to crawl off, and he had the strong sense of someone following them. No one from that podunk, dry-well town was headed their way, and they'd been traveling a good ways since then, long enough for anybody with enough grit and determination to catch up. The ways behind them were vacant of any soul, elf or human alike, however.

It made Sylvester antsy. Adding to this was his resistance to shoot Wu between the eyes each time he asked how much farther it was to Penance. The only thing worse than that was listening to the scrawney kid's stomach growl.

Sylvester himself was beginning to feel his own hunger pains. He'd drowned them for out as long as possible, but without the aid of something stronger than his own stubborn temperment, like rye whiskey, the roaring his his belly was making his ears buzz. Finally, he halted the bird and dismounted, passing the reins to Wu, who was so caught off-guard by his actions that he merely took them without a word. Sylvester marched over to a patch of grass nearby, checking it first to make sure there were no undesirable elements like rattlers, then drawing a circle in the dirt within it using the blade on his gun.

When that was accomplished, he then shucked his hat and riding coat, stripping down until he was bare-chested, leaving his belongings down on the ground just outside the circle. Wu watched curiously as Sylvester sat himself down in the center with his blade from his bayonette rifle in hand, pointing upwards toward the sky. As the blade began to glow, Wu thought he felt a whisper of wind kick up. Sunlight broke through from the cloud blanks to shine down directly overhead. Wu gulped now, fearing for his safety, and dismounted his own ostrich, leading the both of them now back further away.

A light eminated from the circle he sat in now. As the blades of grass within began to dissolve, Sylvester screwed up his brow in deep concentration. Holding his hands up, he accepted the offering from Mother Earth as it formed into a single loaf of bread. Whispering a word of thanks in the language of his people, Sylvester stood up and walked out of the circle, breaking the spell in the process, and scooping up his belongings as he walked past. Wu was staring at him, wide-eyed, as he calmly passed the loaf of bread to him before putting his clothes back on.

"Don't eat all of it," Sylvester warned, as Wu opened his mouth. "That's got to last us for a ways, and there probably won't be more of it."

Wu hadn't been about to eat it, however. At least, not yet. "How?" he managed to blurt out, still holding the loaf of bread in his hand.

"Something my mother taught me," he replied calmly. "From before the soldiers came. Sometimes, my father had trouble trapping food for us in the winter months. Mother always planned ahead, and had bread transformed from grass she kept stored up."

"Why don't you do that more often, then?" Wu wondered, for once in his life, ignoring the food in his hand.

Sylvester shrugged, hesitant to answer. "It doesn't always work," he admitted. "I don't know why, but Mother always said the earth never gives more to it's children than what they need. Since it did, I guess that means we won't be eating anywhere else for a while. And if you're not going to eat that, pass it over this way."

Wu handed it over to Sylvester, but not before grabbing a piece for himself. "Is is safe?" he wondered.

Sylvester ignored him and pulled off a hunk from the loaf. "That answer your question?" he replied, chewing it up.

Wu waited a second longer, then nodded and ate his own piece in silence. "Lets get going," Sylvester told him, getting back on his ostrich. "I don't wanna wait around here any longer than I have to. There's something watching us out here."

"Where?" Wu wondered, but Sylvester had already kicked up his bird and was moving on again, forcing the boy to leap up atop his own mount and ride off after him. In the distance, a pair of eyes narrowed as the two figures rode off together across the dry and dusty expanse of land that was the Republic of California. Satisfied that he'd at last found his prey, the young man shifted forms to that of an ostrich mount and took off down the hill after them.

* * * * *

"I smell water," Sylvester said, stopping his ostrich. "It's close by, too."

"All the way out here?" Wu wondered, his voice sounding parched. "Point me to it. My mouth is starting to feel like I ate a barrel full of hard tack."

"It's that way." Sylvester turned his bird to the east, which was growing dark as the sun set down on the opposite end of the sky, and egged the ostrich onward with his spurs. "I can hear it now, too. It sounds like a river."

Wu didn't bother wasting time with arguing, for once. Turning his ostrich in the same direction, he raced on ahead of Sylvester and, sure enough, came upon a small stream cutting through the sand a couple of miles later. Dismounting, Wu dove face-first into the water happily as Sylvester came up alongside his mount. Getting down, he calmly walked over to where Wu was splashing about and yanked him hard out of the water.

"Be quiet," he ordered. "All sorts of things like to come out to places like this at night. If you aren't careful, you could be bit to death by a cottonmouth, or chewed to pieces by a pack of coyotes. So quit splashing around and make it quick. There's still something out here watching us. I can't hear the damned thing, but I know it's there."

"You're getting paranoid," Wu replied, dismissively. "And can't we at least bathe? You could really use one, and they say you should take a bath at least once a week, whether you need one or not."

"How would you know?" Sylvester wondered, bonking Wu upside the head. "And paranoid will keep you alive longer than anything else. Trust me on that one."

"Fine," said Wu. "Whatever. But we've been on those birds all day. They've gotta be tired by this point, and could definitely use a drink. We both could. Plus, I really want to take a bath."

Sylvester didn't answer right away. Instead, he spent a moment watching the waterline up and down along the banks of the stream for any sign of movement. There wasn't so much as a peep, not even from a desert weasel, and that worried him more than anything. It was far too quiet.

Still... "Fine," he agreed, after a moment more. "Let's make it quit. And don't try to piss in it, either."

Wu shucked his clothes and lay his bo staff on the shoreline before diving right in, making a rather unnecessary splash. Sylvester disrobed more slowly, taking his time by watching out for any sort of movement. It was still too quiet, and this was beginning to feel like a really bad idea to him. Nevertheless, he kept stripping down until he was bare assed. Wading out into the water, he scooped some up into his hands and took slow, careful drinks of it to quench his thirst, giving thanks as he did to the sky for it's blessed gift. Much as Wu's antics were putting them at risk, as usual, Sylvester couldn't fault his own expression of gratitude.

Not that he would've admitted it out loud, but Wu had been right. Both birds were exhausted and overridden, and in desperate need of water. The two of them stood on the shore line now, drinking side by side one another. Sylvester let them both be, doubtful that they'd try to wander off very far. With that in mind, he let his guard down just enough to allow the cool stream water to rush over him. Sylvester drank a little more, then began swimming lightly down along with the current, keeping his eyes open all the while. His elven blood gave him a certain advantage in the dark that most humans lacked. Even still, there was no movement, no sound of footsteps anywhere nearby. He didn't smell anything in the still air, yet the fluttering in his gut told him something was watching not far from their location.

Sylvester raised up slightly and paused. In his search, he'd neglected to keep an ear out for Wu. It occured to him then that he hadn't heard a sound from the annoying little chink in almost a minute. For that much time to have passed and yet not a peep heard from him, there was only one possible solution. Sylvester whirled around and began sweeping the surface of the stream. It wasn't deep enough for anyone to have drowned in, though with Wu's kind of luck, those weren't viable statistics. As Sylvester began to worry, really worry now, a pair of thin arms raised up out of the water behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Rawr!" Wu growled playfully, seizing Sylvester, who promptly flipped him over his shoulders.

Sylvester grabbed Wu by the back of the head and held him in place as he splashed back down face-first into the stream, getting water up both their noses in the process. Sylvester maintained his grip even as he forced the liquid out from his nostrils.

"Shut up and be quiet!" he commanded. "We need to get out of here."

In no mood for another argument, Sylvester simply dragged Wu out of the stream and back to dry land. Unrolling their sleeping back, he released his hold on Wu and lay it out on the sand not far away. Wu stood up sputtering, staring obstinantly at Sylvester for a moment, before silently marching off in a huff to take a long piss behind one of the bushes. Sylvester eyed him for a moment as the boy relieved himself. It seemed odd that the kid was forever trying to get at what hung between his legs, yet was so shy about anyone watching him walk his bird.

Feeling the need himself, Sylvest stepped far enough out of the way so as not to soak the sleeping bag and let it fly. When he was done, the half-elf turned around to find Wu already snuggling down for the night, not bothering to redress himself. For a moment, Sylvester watched him, debating on whether he should drop him out of the bag onto the dirt, but decided in the end that it simply wasn't worth the effort. Wu had already proven capable beforehand of being incredibly stubborn about sleeping next to him, and whatever the damned kid's faults, he was quiet for the most part while asleep. Also, it was a warm body, and that certainly not something to complain about next to the cold chill of the desert night.

Sylvester thought of putting his clothes back on, but ultimately bunked down in the nude next to Wu's equally stark form. It was warm inside the bag, and as a result, Sylvester fell asleep within moments. He had no idea how long it was he remained out, but his dreams were fraught with strange images and visions his mind could barely hold. The most predominate ones were of fire and smoke rolling up high into the sky from some point on the horizon, and the smell of brimestone and sulfur. Something screamed, causing his brain to rattle in his skull. Sylvester awoke with a start, and found himself staring down the barrel of an unfamiliar gun.

"I wouldn't move," the young man aiming it suggested. "If it's all the same to you."

* * * * *

Sylvester gazed up at the smiling stranger. "Who are you?" he wondered.

"Name's Emmanuel Ishmael Bar-Talmay Tobais Reubens," he answered at once, never losing his grin once throughout the whole introduction. "Better make it Tobias, though, since the rest is a bit of a mouthful. I gather I'm in the presence of one Sylvester Lelvenshire?"

Tobias glanced down. "The very glad-to-see-me presence of Sylvester Lelvenshire, I might add."

Sylvester stood up, letting his assailant see the full show unabashed, and glared murderously at him. If Tobias was put off by the sight of him, he certainly didn't show it. "I suppose you and your little friend must've had some sort of a lover's quarrel. I was told to bring the both of you if at all possible, but the lady was specific about you especially. Since the kid seems to have skeedaddled to elsewheres, why don't you find yourself some breeches so we can be on our ways."

Sylvester turned around, not for his clothes, but the rifle he'd left next to them. Tobias seemed to guess at what he was thinking and pulled the rifle out from behind his back. "You really should sleep with this next to you," he scolded, enjoying each minute of taunting his captive. "Seems like a real rookie mistake to make."

"I usually do," said Sylvester, keeping a close eye on the gun aimed at his chest. "Guess it was my fault you got as close as you did."

"Nah," Tobias replied, shaking his head. "I move real quiet-like. The only folk who ever hear me coming are elves that spend their time listening to spirits and whatnot. Hell, I don't even leave tracks!"

"You were the one following us," Sylvester went on, not believing him. "I knew something was out there, but it felt wrong. And now that you've gotten closer, I can see you're no ordinary human. You don't have elf blood in you, but I can smell death coming off your skin. Did somebody try and raise you?"

"That's a secret," Tobias said, pressing down on the hammer of his gun. "You look a mite chilled there. Best be getting dressed so we can be on our way. Those two birds look like they've had enough rest for a while, and if we can find your little friend somewhere along the way..."

Tobias was interrupted by the sound of Wu screaming far off in the distance. Both he and Sylvester snapped their head towards it, but whereas Tobais remained rooted to his spot with the gun still pointed towards his captive, Sylvester turned around and began throwing his clothes on.

"Hold it right there," Tobias ordered, taking careful aim. Sylvester, however, ignored him and continued dressing. "I said, hold it."

"Shoot me," Sylvester said, raising up suddenly to glare at the younger man's face. "Go ahead, I dare ya!"

With his clothes still only half-on, Sylvester waited as hesitation covered Tobias' face. "I didn't think so," he said, going back to his clothes. "You said someone had sent you to collect me. I'm guessing it's the same person who set me up to be murdered, but if they're so all fired up on getting me back alive now, then it stands to reason they didn't give you the order to shoot-to-kill. And if that's the case, you'd probably be in a world of hurt should anything happen to me."

Now fully clothed again, Sylvester reached out to take his rifle back. Tobias, however, held it out of reach.

"Sorry there, pal, but you can just hold your ostriches right there. There ain't no way on Elohim's green earth I'm letting you pry this gun outta my hands."

Without a word, Sylvester held a hand up and summoned the gun right out of Tobias' grip and into his. "Think again," he said, before turning to the closest ostrich. "See you around, slick."

Sylvester took off on his bird down stream, hurrying along until they came to a parting in the water shallow enough for the ostrich to cross. Once on the other side, Sylvester narrowed his ears foward and listened carefully. There was very little movement on the ground tonight. Wu hadn't cried out since that one time, but off in the distance, he could just barely make out something whimpering in pain like a wounded animal. Steering the ostrich around, he aimed it in that direction and took off, even as he heard something else coming along after him.

Knowing it must be Tobias, Sylvester turned around in his saddle enough to take aim back the way he'd come. He had the rifle raised and ready to fire already before it struck him how very wrong the scene he was witnessing looked. There was most definitely a bird coming up behind him, but this one was a bright shade of unnatural green, and had no rider on back. Furthermore, it had no saddle. Yet the bird stayed right on his tracks as he headed out into the dark California night.

Confused, but unwilling to leave things to chance, Sylvester took aim and fired on the trailing ostrich, bringing it down in one shot. Satisfied, he turned his full attention back towards finding Wu. Now that he was closer, he could hear Wu sobbing quietly somewhere not far away over his ostrich's chirping. When Sylvester at last spotted Wu lying in a fetal position next to some dry brush, he brought the bird to a stop and leaped off.

Wu was huddled up like a newborne babe, shivering and deathly pale. It was clear through his elven eyesight that something serious had happened to him. Sylvester could already guess, but he checked regardless for signs of a snakebite. Not so much as a cactus needle had broken through his skin, yet Wu continued to look worse by the second. Shucking his riding coat, he began wrapping the boy up in it, even as the skin on the back of his neck crawled.

"You really don't make all that much noise," he commented, turning around with Wu in his arms to face Tobias. "Mind telling me how a boy like you can learn to move more quietly than even the elves could?"

"Trade secret," Tobais replied, holding his gun on Sylvester. "I should shoot you here and now for that hole you put in me back there, but it looks like the kid really could use your help right now, so I'll let it slide. What happened to him?"

"I don't know," Sylvester admitted. "That really was you back there?"

"Like I said, trade secret." Tobias looked Wu over for a moment, then lowered his gun. "We can settle our differences later. There's a town not too far from here. It'll be tight, but they've got a doctor that can treat 'em. Strap him to my back, and I'll lead you there. It beats you trying to steer that ornery bird while holding him upright so he doesn't fall off."

"And how are you getting..." Sylvester started to ask, but found himself looking straight at the answer befor he could even finish.

For Tobias has shifted into the same ostrich that had followed Sylvester here. "Strap him on," he insisted, stepping up alongside them. "And hurry it up. Otherwise, the kid might not make it."

Sylvester only hesitate a second more before doing as the ostrich said. The whole time, however, he kept looking towards the head where Tobais' voice had come from. "A guy that can turn into a green ostrich," he grumbled. "That's all I really needed. More weirdness!"