With some smaller devices finished, Novek decided to move on to something stronger in case distractions and disincentives weren't sufficient. Time was short, though, he'd have only minutes at best — at least the second rider had decided to wait for reinforcements before engaging, after seeing the first veer off, yowling in pain.

  He quickly looked through the various boxes and under the seats, and glanced at the under-carriage storage for spares. He knew what was in the boot, but wasn't sure what he could do with all of this — he'd almost decided against trying for something larger, when a thought occurred to him. Now to see if he had the parts he needed. Canister. Powder. Shot.

  While retrieving a spare front wheel from below the coach body and pulling it inside, Novek wished he could fit the larger rear spare into the coach. The axle hole for the larger wheel would have made for a bigger barrel for his one-shot improvised cannon. The smaller wheel's metal band around the hub — where the axle would normally sit — would be easier to reinforce to avoid catastrophic failure, however.

  Novek looked at the pile of parts. “I need lantern wick, any extra powder for your gun — shells are fine too, I can empty them — and any small metal pieces you've got.” He also grabbed some cloth they'd used with the meat earlier, he'd need that for packing, if there was sufficient powder to make this work.

  “Sure, there are plenty of rivets and metal in the spare tack, just cut the bridles and straps down. There's a small watertight container of powder hung underneath inside a water flask, not enough to be a concern around aether flux, but enough for whatever you're thinking of doing, I'd wager. As for wick, there's some in one of the seat boxes, or just grab any of the lanterns off a hook.”

  He found both powder and shot. It would need some reinforcement, as he lacked a sufficiently strong tube, so he decided to husband his remaining Talent.

  He drilled a hole through the end-cap where the axle would lay, pushed some unwound wick through, then packed the bottom with powder. Cloth came after to keep it together tight, then all the various metal pieces he'd managed to scrounge or break down; he'd left the bridle and bit pieces together as improvised chain shot. Now all he'd need would be an end cap to keep it in, and to keep a lantern ready to light the short wick. It was no fuse, so he'd just have to light it early and hope it went off fast enough. It wasn't exactly his first improvised explosive, so he had reasonable confidence it would do what he wanted.

  “Novek! Head's up!” He'd gotten focused on his work; it was good that Ellie was able to both drive and watch effectively.

  He was almost finished with his — mortar, maybe — when the first group of riders approached. Having seen the first rider learn a lesson in presenting a single target, they decided to come in as a group of eight.

  His earlier works went out the window and door a few at a time. These were simple traps designed to scare, and maybe lame the horses. Leaf springs attached to hinged half-boards with hastily attached springs, that snapped open when they landed, and continued to bounce for a few seconds as a distraction.

  He'd only made four, that was all the leaf springs he had, but they worked as desired when they landed. They'd snap open with the force of a Ber trap when they hit the ground, the weakened leaf clamp falling off and the hinged boards whipping out with incredible force. The issue was that while they worked as designed, his aim wasn't quite as good as his craft — one horse took a bad hit to a foreleg and stumbled and fell, the rider being thrown. Another got spooked by the bouncing board as it hit the ground and bounced back. It swerved to dodge the device, but soon recovered and rejoined the chase at the back of the small group.

  Well, we try things. Sometimes they work.

  Two of the riders readied their poles when Ellie turned and fired a single barrel of her coach gun. The nearest rider jerked and clutched his leg, which was already covered in red. He grunted, and might have screamed, but it couldn't be heard over the scream from his horse, which suddenly bolted away from the coach.

  The other pole-wielder dodged the sudden movement, and kept pace further from the coach, waiting on the remaining riders to get closer.

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  Ellie took another shot, then ducked back beneath the front of the coach body, but she had either missed, or the pellets hadn't done enough damage to dissuade the bandit.

  The rider readied for another throw, and yelled to his companions to hurry. They spurred their horses on and were rapidly approaching, crossbows at the ready and now on the side of the coach where they could fire in the open door.

  Novek decided it was now or never, lit the wick, and then held the improvised cannon outside the door with one arm wrapped around the spokes. He tried to aim it at the pack, but it was unwieldy, and they weren't closely grouped. The hub of the wheel glowed faintly orange — he couldn't quite manage the durability that Ceress could handle, his talent was motion applied to mass, not simply mass. He hoped it would manage, or else his arm was likely forfeit, that close to the hub that was serving as a short barrel.

  The lead rider glanced at Novek, but dismissed his actions as incomprehensible. He refocused on the coach's wheels and threw his pole, but missed his target — the rear wheel — entirely. He had another at the ready, however, and quickly made ready to throw again.

  Novek held his breath as the wick continued to burn, but his exposed arm was now an exposed target to the approaching riders, and multiple crossbow bolts thunked into the coach next to it, making it harder to position the already awkward wheel face towards the enemy.

  That turned out not to matter quite so much.

  The wheel mortar exploded outwards — the rim band held, only splinters scythed into his leather vambrace. Which meant that the destructive force was applied where he'd wanted it.

  Four of the riders had been in the cone of effect, and both they and their horses were suddenly obscured by a large amount of smoke, and blood. Yeah, that was a lot of blood.

  Two of the riders and their horses immediately went down and fell, and did not struggle to get back up. They fell behind quickly.

  The other two in range of the blast looked as if they'd finished a bad shift in a slaughterhouse. The horses stopped and reared, one rider fell to the ground, the other leaned forward, but could not be distinguished from the horse in the blood that covered both of them. The two uninjured riders from the back slowed and stopped along with them and could be seen trying to render aid, as the coach kept on, leaving them in the dust.

  Novek took a moment to appraise their situation after his shot. Two dead, two wounded. They'd made their choice.

  The pole wielder had not been in range, however. He looked backward, aghast, but his face took on a look of grim determination, and he threw his readied pole. It landed squarely within the spokes of the back left wheel, and caught as the wheel rotated up, wedging the pole against the coach body. The force of it snapped almost all the wheel spokes, and the wheel itself collapsed, no longer being held away from the center hub. The back of the carriage dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, and started to drag.

  The kit was thrown from the window — Novek reached out and caught him in one paw before he slammed into the wall or fell out of the door, now hanging open; Novek had dropped the wheel after serving its purpose.

  The coach pulled suddenly to the side as the structure caught on a rut, and it turned abruptly, skidding off of the dirt road before coming to a stop in a field of wild grain and thin flowering grasses.

  Ellie had strapped herself in during the chase, and had remained securely in place on the driver's bench. She reined in the horses as the coach lost speed, dragging on the dusty road — there would be no more running.

  She unbuckled herself, reached down into the gun box, retrieved spare shells, and proceeded to calmly reload as she came around the coach, opposite the pole thrower, who had retreated to a safe distance while he waited for the rest of his group to arrive.

  Novek checked over the kit and then started arranging his gear for rapid access, laying everything he might need out. He could use the inside of the coach as a last resort, but once inside they could circle or just burn him out at their leisure. Static defenses were death in warfare. He decided to start from behind, and keep his options open. There weren't many trees, but there was plenty of tall scrub and grass, and unlike the bandits, he could retain almost full mobility while hiding in tall grass.

  “Okay, Ellie. Stay behind the coach opposite me. Use your horses if you must — no, don't argue. Shots of opportunity only — and only after I've started shooting so they're focused on evading fire. When you do fire, expose as little of yourself as you can. Do not pop over cover to shoot, use corners. Body shots will hurt, but getting shot in the head kills. Retreat into the coach if they start firing back en masse.”

  She said nothing, only nodding grimly and moving to put the coach between her and the oncoming riders.

  Novek sounded calm externally, but was anything but. Fear and anger — no, rage — boiled within him. He'd kill each and every one of them if he had to.

  They have no idea who they're messing with.

  The life or death struggle in the field of waving grass was strangely comforting to him. After all, Novek had literally started life in the tall grass, as both hunter and hunted. This was just him getting back to his roots.