What was it Mat
had said? Oh yes. “Making contact.” Ezra hoped his voice sounded
steadier than he felt.
He walked up the last few meters of the
trail, the lumber mill climbing steadily into view. Ezra took
another deep breath and stepped out from the tree cover, inching
forward into the clearing before the ominous gray building.
“ Arn!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I have what you asked
for!”
Ezra thought he could make out the glint of
someone's eyes peering out from between the cracked shutters on the
upstairs window. “Don't move,” a gravelly voice grated from inside
the building.
A minute went by. Then another. Finally, the
shape of a man seemed to solidify from the shadows in the gaping
lumber mill door. There was a cocky sneer on the wind-scarred's
face below beady brown eyes and a heavy brow. His head was covered
in a short brush of brown hair, liberally peppered with gray. As he
came closer Ezra drew in a swift breath. Every inch of visible skin
– from his thug-like face to his big, rough hands – was covered in
a network of fine, white scars. They seemed to form patterns,
swirling and twisting all over him. “You ain't from that little
dump,” he said, looking Ezra over, eyes pausing briefly on the
knife strapped to Ezra side.
“ Hawkins,” Sarah's voice sounded in his ear as he stared with a
mixture of horror and fascination at the delicate scars.
Arn's eyes narrowed, and Ezra saw something
dangerous glittering in them. A thought of violence from a man who
loved it. “Those losers call in a third party or some-”
“ Hawkins! Get down!”
Ezra abruptly pulled himself together and
dropped to his belly, arms over his head. He heard a rapid woofing
as Sarah's rifle unloaded on the scarred man in front of him.
Cracks from his left marked Mat, walking calmly toward his target,
shooting as he came. It was all executed flawlessly.
The man let out a bark of laughter. Sarah's
automatic fire formed into a rapidly expanding cloud, suspended in
the air as if she had been shooting into a thick gel. Arn turned to
face Mat, whose bullets all suddenly deviated from their course
about half a meter in front of the wind-scarred, arching around him
to get stuck along with Sarah's shots. One scarred hand came up,
beckoning Mat forward.
Throwing aside his pistol, Mat accelerated
into a dash over the remaining space, hand moving to his sword,
ready to draw. It was apparently not fast enough for Arn. Grasping
in front of him, the elementalist pulled his arm back with a shout,
as if ripping away a curtain. A torrent of wind whipped past,
streaming leaves and sticks into a vortex toward and around the man
while scattering the cloud of bullets behind him. Mat was suddenly
pulled from his feet and sent flying forward, eyes widening in
surprise. He managed to get his sword clear and ready a lunge
before Arn raised his right hand, bringing Mat to a complete stop,
freezing him in place a foot off the ground. Ezra saw Mat fight in
vain to move.
Arn chuckled quietly as he stepped around
the sword and patted Mat on the cheek. “Guess you didn't know what
you were up against here, kid. You one of Velor's boys? The
Besmirched send you, thinking they'd get a little payback?”
“ Bite me,” Mat managed through clenched teeth, eyes burning
with fury.
The wind-scarred gave a little shrug and
threw a lightning fast left hook into Mat's face. There was a sound
like a small explosion as the ground beneath the point of impact
was suddenly blown clean of forest detritus in a burst of air. Mat
flew through the wall of the lumber mill, eight feet away, and kept
going, vanishing inside the building. He somehow managed to keep a
hold on his sword.
“ Ow,” Ezra heard Mat groan. “I may need some help,
Sarah.”
“ Incoming,” she said, and Ezra saw her dash to the side of the
building and dive into a ground floor window to take up a position
inside.
The wind-scarred had his
back to Ezra, rolling a shoulder as if
had said? Oh yes. “Making contact.” Ezra hoped his voice sounded
steadier than he felt.
He walked up the last few meters of the
trail, the lumber mill climbing steadily into view. Ezra took
another deep breath and stepped out from the tree cover, inching
forward into the clearing before the ominous gray building.
“ Arn!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I have what you asked
for!”
Ezra thought he could make out the glint of
someone's eyes peering out from between the cracked shutters on the
upstairs window. “Don't move,” a gravelly voice grated from inside
the building.
A minute went by. Then another. Finally, the
shape of a man seemed to solidify from the shadows in the gaping
lumber mill door. There was a cocky sneer on the wind-scarred's
face below beady brown eyes and a heavy brow. His head was covered
in a short brush of brown hair, liberally peppered with gray. As he
came closer Ezra drew in a swift breath. Every inch of visible skin
– from his thug-like face to his big, rough hands – was covered in
a network of fine, white scars. They seemed to form patterns,
swirling and twisting all over him. “You ain't from that little
dump,” he said, looking Ezra over, eyes pausing briefly on the
knife strapped to Ezra side.
“ Hawkins,” Sarah's voice sounded in his ear as he stared with a
mixture of horror and fascination at the delicate scars.
Arn's eyes narrowed, and Ezra saw something
dangerous glittering in them. A thought of violence from a man who
loved it. “Those losers call in a third party or some-”
“ Hawkins! Get down!”
Ezra abruptly pulled himself together and
dropped to his belly, arms over his head. He heard a rapid woofing
as Sarah's rifle unloaded on the scarred man in front of him.
Cracks from his left marked Mat, walking calmly toward his target,
shooting as he came. It was all executed flawlessly.
The man let out a bark of laughter. Sarah's
automatic fire formed into a rapidly expanding cloud, suspended in
the air as if she had been shooting into a thick gel. Arn turned to
face Mat, whose bullets all suddenly deviated from their course
about half a meter in front of the wind-scarred, arching around him
to get stuck along with Sarah's shots. One scarred hand came up,
beckoning Mat forward.
Throwing aside his pistol, Mat accelerated
into a dash over the remaining space, hand moving to his sword,
ready to draw. It was apparently not fast enough for Arn. Grasping
in front of him, the elementalist pulled his arm back with a shout,
as if ripping away a curtain. A torrent of wind whipped past,
streaming leaves and sticks into a vortex toward and around the man
while scattering the cloud of bullets behind him. Mat was suddenly
pulled from his feet and sent flying forward, eyes widening in
surprise. He managed to get his sword clear and ready a lunge
before Arn raised his right hand, bringing Mat to a complete stop,
freezing him in place a foot off the ground. Ezra saw Mat fight in
vain to move.
Arn chuckled quietly as he stepped around
the sword and patted Mat on the cheek. “Guess you didn't know what
you were up against here, kid. You one of Velor's boys? The
Besmirched send you, thinking they'd get a little payback?”
“ Bite me,” Mat managed through clenched teeth, eyes burning
with fury.
The wind-scarred gave a little shrug and
threw a lightning fast left hook into Mat's face. There was a sound
like a small explosion as the ground beneath the point of impact
was suddenly blown clean of forest detritus in a burst of air. Mat
flew through the wall of the lumber mill, eight feet away, and kept
going, vanishing inside the building. He somehow managed to keep a
hold on his sword.
“ Ow,” Ezra heard Mat groan. “I may need some help,
Sarah.”
“ Incoming,” she said, and Ezra saw her dash to the side of the
building and dive into a ground floor window to take up a position
inside.
The wind-scarred had his
back to Ezra, rolling a shoulder as if
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