Colton Cyness and the Gunslingers (Children of the Empire Book 1) Page 2

  The priest's head lashed back and forth, his eyes wild. He was only a low priest. Real decisions were beyond him, and facing down the temperamental plantation owner's son was a foolish hazard at best. Colt shoved the confused priest aside and joined the Daemi at the side of the wagon. Colt pushed his shoulder against the wagon and strained against the weight of the cargo, but not even a descendant of the Cettise was going to halt the fall. The wagon creaked as it leaned towards the tipping point.

  "Get something to brace it!" shouted Colt, straining against the weight of the wagon.

  The Field Boss motioned to the men around him. "Grab the irrigation piping."

  "I forbid you, it's a dirty Sacu!" shouted the Priest, flailing his arms wildly, perhaps in an attempt to seem more important than he was.

  "We're not helping the Sacu," replied the Field Boss. "We're helping the plantation owner's kid, unless you want to explain why the boy was crushed under a wagon."

  The field hands grabbed the irrigation pipes lying on the side of the road waiting to be assembled for the next planting. Beads of sweat poured down Colt's face as the field-hands shoved past the priest to brace the wagon. The wagon slowed its fall, and the creaking changed to a moaning.

  "I need everyone pushing," said Colt, between clenched teeth. The field hands pushed against the wagon, and it slowly tipped back from disaster. "Get the wheel on!" shouted Colt.

  The Field Boss tried to push the wheel back into place, but it wouldn’t fit over the axle hub.

  "This wheel was sabotaged!" shouted the Field Boss.

  "Blasted Ancestors, everyone out, we've lost the wagon!" said Colt.

  The field hands jumped out of the way of the wagon, leaving only the Daemi and Colt holding back the disaster. "You too," ordered Colt.

  The Daemi reptilian shook his head. "Master, you cannot hold alone."

  "That's an order," said Colt.

  The Daemi jumped away from the wagon, joining the drivers and field hands watching. The wagon tipped another foot, and the bracing began snapping like kindling. Colt strained against the weight of the wagon as it neared the point of collapse.

  "Get out of there, boy!" yelled the Field Boss.

  The last brace snapped, and the wagon leaned heavily to its side. Colt tried one last push, managing to move the wagon back a few inches. The remaining wheel and axle holding the wagon broke with a loud crack and the wagon collapsed under the weight of its load. Colt leaped to the side as the wagon folded in on itself and tipped over. The corn harvest spilled from the wagon and buried Colt under an avalanche of corn.

  "Master Colton!" shouted the Field Boss, rushing to dig away at the corn harvest covering Colt. The field hands and drivers joined in and started digging for the buried boy. Several minutes later Colt's face was uncovered, and he looked up at the Field Boss.

  "You said the wheel was sabotaged, where's that damn priest?"

  "He ran when the bracing broke," replied the Field Boss. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine, it's just corn, the wagon missed me.”

  "You are fortunate the priest ran away. Had he seen you holding the wagon without the Sacu, he would have known you are a Cettise."

  “You know?” asked Colt, pushing the corn away and standing.

  "Everyone except the Caelum know, you’re already bigger than most humans, but Caelum are too arrogant to realize. Do not show off like that again or your father will skin me."

  "I wasn't showing off. I was trying to save valuable property. I have to report this to Pa. The Caelum have gone too far this time." Colt retrieved his horse and swung himself into the saddle.

  "I'll clean this up, Master Colton," said the Field Boss.

  Colt nodded and spurred his horse into a gallop. The fields were cleared to the farmhouse and the horse kicked-up clumps of dirt as it ran. Pa was out back hooking up a team of horses to the old box wagon. Pa was taking the wagon into town, and Colt was going with him.

  "Pa, we got a problem," shouted Colt, reigning his horse in.

  "Calm down," said Pa, getting last minute instructions from Ma for the trip to town. "I already know what happened."

  "How? It just happened.”

  "Not everyone leaves their radio sitting on the kitchen table. Don't worry, the Field Boss has everything under control, and I'll take care of the Caelum when we get back."

  "Oh," said Colt, grinning sheepishly. He had forgotten to clip the radio to his belt. They didn't use the radios often, mainly just during harvest. "But, Pa, we lost a wagon."

  "When we get back," said Pa, turning to Ma. "I got the list, stop your fussing, woman." Pa bent down and gave Ma a peck on the cheek.

  "Now don't you forget the sugar this time, you hear," said Ma, her hands restlessly brushing imaginary dirt from Pa's shirt.

  Pa tried to get another peck on the cheek. Colt turned away, embarrassed by his parent's display of affection. One kiss was acceptable, two in a row were too many. Ma pushed Pa away and crossed her arms. She had seen Colt's discomfort.

  "Stop it, you old fool," said Ma. "Not in front of the boy."

  Pa winked at Colt and tried for another peck on Ma’s cheek. "Oh nonsense, he's not little no more. The boy has helped bring foal aplenty into this world. I think he has some idea about the facts of life."

  Colt turned crimson red, jumped back on his horse, and spurred the horse a bit harder than he intended. The horse reared once and headed down the dirt road at a gallop. He didn't slow the horse to a trot until he reached the gate with a large letter C above it.

  Clouds hid the sun, and the promise of needed rain hung in the cooling breeze. Rain would be a welcome relief from the sweltering summer heat. Folk would be taking advantage of the cool day and heading to town for supplies, just as he and Pa were. Colt's horse pranced and spun in a circle, annoyed at something. A Dart fighter raced overhead, streaking its way toward town.

  "Dang fool," mumbled Colt. "You don't fly over farms and spook the livestock." Colt pulled his horse up and waited for the wagon to catch up. It didn't take long, and Pa soon pulled alongside his son, grinning.

  "Stop it, Pa," said Colt, turning his head away, annoyed.

  "Explain the theory of neurocomputational spatial navigation," replied Pa.

  Colt grinned. This was his favorite game, and it gave him a chance to show off a bit. He knew Pa intended it to be school study, but it was fun the way Pa did it. Most of the children on Corvus living in remote areas were home schooled and required to take a test once a year to qualify for their rating at that grade level. Failure would draw the attention of the Gunslingers, and nobody wanted the law breathing down their neck. They could even order a teacher housed at your farm for the next year to bring you back on track. The Gunslingers didn't play around, but Colt liked his studies and had always passed with the highest marks.

  The wagon bounced along the old dirt road with Pa rattling off school lessons and questions for Colt to answer. They could have taken the old truck in the barn, but the Corvian people only used technology when necessary. Two hours later Colt was finishing an explanation of the Law of FTL travel when five Dart Fighters screamed past, nearly at ground level. The horses spooked, and it took almost ten minutes before they calmed down.

  "Pa, something must be going on, that's six Darts I've seen today."

  "Did you see the markings on the side?" asked Pa, walking beside the team of horses to keep them calm. "Those were Gunslinger Darts."

  "Do you think they're chasing outlaws?" asked Colt, sitting up a little straighter in his saddle at the thought of real outlaws.

  Pa climbed back up on the wagon. "Could be, we're almost there, guess we'll know something then.”

  The two-story buildings of the town rose above the scrub trees as they drew nearer, leaving the corn fields behind. An old worn sign sat at the side of the road identifying the town border.

  Welcome to Four Corners. Population: 124

  The buildings were deceptively simple, with little technology apparent. T
he town could pass for a pre-technology civilization. Colt was just ahead of the wagon when the sound of gunshots in the town rang out. The shooting lasted for several minutes before the town became silent again.

  "Colt, stay close to me," ordered Pa, a hard serious edge in his voice as he reined the team of horses into a slow, cautious walk.

  Colt glanced back at Pa, but didn't rein his horse in. He wanted to see what was going on. A farm, even if it was big enough to be a plantation, was boring, and this was something new! His blood was on fire, and he didn't want to run away from the gunshots, he wanted to run towards them!

  Colt edged ahead of the wagon as they rode onto the main street of town, but there were no people outside anywhere. The usually busy town was unnaturally silent. Colt glanced at Pa to make sure he wasn’t watching and tapped his horse’s flank in a signal to drift towards the center of the road so he could see better. Pa was busy with the wagon team and hadn’t noticed. Colt nudged his horse over a little more until he was almost in the center of the road. He could see better from here and noticed two horses lying in the middle of the road ahead. Abandoned wagons had been blocking his view, and he hadn’t seen it before, and Pa probably didn’t either. There were men on the ground next to the horses, two kneeling, and three more lying in odd positions on the ground a short distance away.

  The shooting erupted again, and the men crouching behind the horses started shooting back. Gunslingers! They were Gunslingers, and they were shooting at the men in the windows above the street. Colt saw more men advancing from two side-streets.

  “Pa, Gunslingers!” shouted Colt. “They’re pinned down in an ambush.

  "Colton, follow me!" Pa yelled, and jumped off the wagon.

  Pa ran to the nearest building, the barbershop. Colt could see people hiding inside, but Colt had no interest in hiding. Pa stopped at the steps and looked back at Colt still on his horse. Colt spurred the horse hard and thundered down the street toward the pinned down Gunslingers. He pulled his rifle from the side holster and levered a round into the chamber. He had hunted rabbits from horseback since he was eight years old. This would be easy—a man is a much slower and bigger target than a rabbit.

  Pa yelled for him to come back, but Colt heard nothing. The horse under him, the wind, the smell of gunpowder in the air, everything slowed to a single moment. The blood in his ears pounded, swelling, as if an ocean were sweeping him away, there was no fear. Thousands of years of selective genetic breeding to create the Cettise awakened inside him. He felt cold and detached. The world had separated from him and left him behind in a place where time did not exist. He lifted his rifle, aimed at a man on the roof, and squeezed the trigger. The man's body lifted back and slumped out of sight.

  Colt's horse jumped over the dead horses the two remaining Gunslingers were using for cover. He levered another round and fired at a man in a window before his horse landed. The man in the window fell out of sight like the first one. Colt spurred his horse on, levered another round and fired, and then another, and another. He reached the end of the street and pulled his horse around for another pass. The horse reared, with Colt standing in the stirrups, and charged again. Colt fired again and again at the men in the windows and on the roof until they were gone. His horse stumbled and fell. Being thrown from a horse was nothing new for Colt, and he rolled easily to the ground.

  Colt's horse lay on its side, kicked once and stopped moving. It was dead. Pa had given him that horse for his tenth birthday. Anger greater than anything he had ever felt before rose in him as he searched for his horse's murderers. He found them, three men in a side street. He aimed at the first outlaw and pulled the trigger. The firing pin clicked on an empty chamber. He was out of ammunition. He felt a bullet pass his head by the width of a hair, and heard it strike the Gunslinger next to him. The Gunslinger rolled onto his side and shoved his revolver into Colt's hand. The lawman gave Colt a weak nod and closed his eyes. Colt stared at the dead Gunslinger next to him. He had never seen a dead man before. The anger overwhelmed him and swept away any remaining sense of self-preservation. He threw the rifle aside and stood with the dead Gunslinger's revolver in his hand.

  Colt walked toward the three men in the side street, lifted the revolver and aimed. The man on the left fired first, and Colt felt the round graze his cheek. Colt pulled the trigger and kept walking toward the men. His first round went wild. He needed to calm down and concentrate. The man on the right fired next, and Colt felt a sting on his left upper-arm, but ignored it and fired again, and the man on the right fell back on the ground, dead. Colt continued walking towards the two remaining men. The man on the left fired again, and Colt felt the bullet graze the side of his head, and then the warm trickle of blood. He fired again, and the man in the middle fell to the ground.

  Colt held the revolver, unwavering, and continued toward the last outlaw. The man saw something in the boy's eyes, dropped his gun and raised his hands in the air. Colt stopped six feet from the man and stared into the man's eyes.

  "You killed my horse, you don't get to surrender,” said Colt.

  Colt pulled the trigger, and the man fell to the ground. Colt stared at the dead man for a moment as he stood over the body, and then spit on him.

  "Justice," said Colt, a slight snarl curling his upper lip.

  Colt turned around. The remaining Gunslinger stood behind him in the road, watching Colt, his eyes carefully taking measure of the boy. The Gunslinger had finished off the two men on the other side of the street and had waited to see if Colt had what it took to serve justice to the outlaws.

  Colt's Pa ran up holding his hands out. "Please, he's my youngest son, he didn't know what he was doing."

  The Gunslinger ignored the father pleading for his son's life. "Come with me, boy," ordered the Gunslinger, his eyes cold and dead.

  Colt followed the Gunslinger back to the body of the dead Gunslinger that had given Colt the revolver. The Gunslinger knelt down, unbuckled the fallen Gunslinger's gun belt, and pulled it out from under him. The Gunslinger stood and turned back to Colt. He took the revolver from Colt's hand and pushed it back into the holster, and then wrapped the belt around Colt's waist and fastened it.

  "I saw him give you the gun," said the Gunslinger, his voice carrying a slight accent Colt didn't recognize. "He had no children to pass it to, I will respect his final wish. Kneel, boy."

  Colt knelt, and the Gunslinger laid his hand on Colt's head.

  "I raise you to the station of Gunslinger, with all the privileges and responsibilities of that rank. What is your name, boy?"

  "Colton Cyness, sir."

  "Rise and never again kneel to any man, Gunslinger Cyness."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Brothers

  Colt rolled his potatoes around his plate, trying to get them to line up in proper little rows. The carrots cooperated easily enough, and the thick slice of roast beef served as a barn, but the potatoes kept floating away in the gravy.

  "Stop playing with your food, Colton," said Ma, "they will be here soon."

  "I'm not hungry, Ma," said Colt, pushing the roast beef barn on its side.

  "Do you have your saddle bags ready?" asked Pa, pushing his own slice of roast beef idly around his plate.

  Colt nodded. "Yes, Pa, I got everything on the packing list."

  "Have you got extra socks?" asked Ma, her voice strained and trying to pretend everything was normal.

  "Yes, Ma," replied Colt, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

  "And your thermal underwear?" asked Ma, in tears.

  Colt almost protested the question, and then saw the tears in Ma’s eyes. He pushed the chair back and rushed around the table, and threw his arms around her.

  "I got everything, Ma," said Colt, hugging her tight.

  The walls of the farmhouse shook, and Colt's third-grade macaroni picture hanging on the cold-box rattled and threatened to fall. Colt listened to the heavy engines of a Transport ship whine as it landed in the yard outside. Pa got up a
nd went to the kitchen window in time to see the ramp of the Transport lower. The Gunslingers had come for Colt.

  "It's time, son," said Pa, picking up the saddle bags on the counter next to the door.

  Ma pushed Colt away, her eyes flowing with tears. "Go on now, you're too big for your Ma to be holding."

  Colt smiled, brushing his tears aside and walked over to Pa. The revolver the Gunslinger gave Colt hung on a peg next to the door. He lifted it down and wrapped the symbol of his rank around his waist. He didn't like this revolver. It was heavy and clunky, not sleek and graceful like the family revolver passed down from his great-great-great grandfather. He took the bulky revolver from its holster and inspected the symbol engraved on the grip. He hadn’t known there were different Cettise symbols, but this revolver was engraved with a growling fox, it’s back arched in a defensive position. Colt put the gun back in its holster.

  "You don't like that gun, can't blame you, wait here," said Pa, shoving the saddle bags at Colt.

  Pa rushed out of the kitchen. Colt heard him run up the stairs, and a moment later returned with the family revolver.

  "Take that gun off," said Pa, holding grandfather's gun belt out. "I should have told you everything, but now it's too late."

  "I can't take grandfather's gun," protested Colt, shaking his head.

  "That hulking monster the Gunslinger gave you came from the Palace Guard. See the extended trigger? It originally belonged to a Carinian. Their fingers are longer than ours."

  Colt swapped the gun belts, liking the way his family gun felt on his hip. "But everyone will know I'm a Cettise descendant," said Colt.

  Pa wrapped the spare gun up and handed it back to Colt. "You're fourteen, and already tall as a full grown Corvian human. We were never truly hiding," said Pa, shaking his head. "I wanted three more years to teach you, son."

  "I'm sorry, Pa," cried Colt, throwing his arms around his Pa. "I'm sorry."

  "No, boy," said Pa, his fingers digging tight into his son. "Don't be sorry, it was only a matter of time before one of us was discovered."