I snorted awake, a jolt in my arms, as if the alien limbs knew something I didn't.

  "-whatever we damn well please. Now get the fuck out our way or we just haul your purty ass off into town. Sell a North whore for a mint."

  Fuck.

  Can't I get one solid day of peace?

  I rose and moved to the small, circular window set in the lofts wall and peered out.

  Five men, dressed in light cotton and leather armor, sat on horse and drake back. Their animals looked as ragged as them, dusty and sun-scarred. They'd ridden hard and fast, but for what?

  Nothin’ good.

  I watched a ghost slip through the tall desert grass behind them, no doubt Hroth movin’ in place while I was still rubbin’ tired out my eyes.

  I grabbed up my shotgun and slid it out the window. Didn't take no genius to tell who they were. And I didn't much care for the way they spoke to a lady.

  "You dumb goat-fuckers aren't taking shite," said Marry as she held tight to a heavy splitting maul, "go on before my guard dog gets you."

  I leaned out the window, a little smile on my face.

  Guard dog? Thought I was a tom cat.

  I drew a bead on one man, placing the little glass sight over the center of his chest, then an inch higher. I wanted to get 'em in the throat and upper chest, where that monster hide didn't protect.

  Horth continued on as I took aim, axe in hand, likely invisible or otherwise camouflaged to anyone without an Ability like my Arcane Eye.

  Perfect.

  You and me big guy, let's give them hell.

  I pulled the trigger, and thunder roared out. A tiny tax of lifeforce powered the arcane shotgun and made a horrible, bloody mess of another man.

  Marry dove for the dust as four drew and another choked on blood and lead, seizin’ in the sand. They went to scatter but Hrothgar charged, a massive Northman in a sea of dust.

  A fella in the back caught on, just ten paces before he met an axe.

  Boom.

  I took another man in the guts, aimed too low, damned hands. But it was enough to confused whatever trainin’ or skill they might have, makin’ chaos where structure might otherwise had been.

  Snap.

  Thunk. Thunk.

  Click.

  Reloaded, but late. I dove to the side as a bullet zipped in, streaming sunlight into the dim barn.

  Missed by a hairs breadth, close enough to feel the wind.

  I crawled fast and then kicked up into a run as-

  Zip. Zip.

  Two more followed me and blew chips of wood from the wall. It was skill to track a man through cover like that, just not enough.

  I dove off the loft and fell into a roll, legs already pumping hard as I came up in a run. I kept my gun level, ready to shoot as the first man rounded the corner. Maybe lookin’ for me, lookin’ for cover, or just try to escape that bloody axe.

  Boom.

  The gun bucked, and he went down. Caught in the face, spatterin' his mind across the dust and sand.

  The scent of blood and death was thick now, chokin' out all thoughts of mercy or peace. My mind filled with bloodlust, the desire to see all my enemies dead and broken.

  It made me reckless.

  I come around and out, expecting to see Hroth dealing with the final two.

  No luck.

  He stood, axe in hand, loomin' over a screaming man like a nightmare.

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  "HROTH!" Marry screamed, eyes focused behind.

  I spun, gun low and ready to shoot.

  Too late.

  Boom.

  An ounce of led lit through that big man's head, painting his littler sister in pink, red and grey.

  She screamed, hollerin' all her rage and grief into the world.

  For a second I was stunned. I'd seen my enemies die, sure. But...

  Zip.

  I felt the pain instantly, it cut through the piteous haze in my mind. I touched the blood and flesh of my shoulder, and found a hole. The tendrils that wove to form my strange limb were severed, leaking mana and blood.

  My vision swam, and I stood stupid and still.

  I was lucky.

  My would be killer was a shit shot.

  Zip.

  Fire along my cheek. Air on my tongue.

  You almost died, Dipshit.

  I ducked, and then dove into the barn, tuckin' and rollin' as another bullet hit the dirt behind me. I was woozy, bleeding fast as the final slaver came hot on my heels.

  I tired to raise my shotgun with just the one hand, but my strength was gone, and the weapon fell to the ground as he came on in.

  Time slowed.

  Eyes met.

  A hammer cocked.

  He had the head start, but I had the skill. I drew, leather cleared, cylinder rotated and locked.

  We each squeezed between one heartbeat and the last.

  Boom.

  I stumbled, teetering on weak legs and fell on my back. His bullet went wide. Mine went straight on through.

  He fell in a dead heap.

  That scent of gunsmoke, shit and blood...

  And I only smiled more for it.

  But now, I didn't know what I was going to do. I crawled up, used the wall to support myself as I moved slowly along. The pain in my arm faded fast, the bleeding staunched as the severed tendrils in my arm tied themselves in knots with nary a thought from me.

  Guess the Kraken wasn’t completely full of shit. Cthonic Dexterity was more than it seemed at a glance.

  Out, into the sun and the scene of carnage we all had wrought. Blood soaked the sand, dryin’ in the heat. Five men lay dead and only one of them worthy of the grave I’d dig.

  Nothin’ moved, none of the folk in the farmlands around, no birds or beasts in the fields. None except the one left alive.

  He hollered through an axe split jaw, the sound filtered through gore and broken teeth.

  Marry sat, tears and snot mixing with her brother's brains and blood. She just knelt there, crying for her lost kind.

  I am sorry.

  So, so sorry. But I had no time for tears.

  I limped to stand on my own and crossed the distance between me and the final man.

  "He's... He's dead..." She muttered, fixin' green eyes on me.

  "Yeah. I'm sorry Miss Marry. We did what we could." I watched her go through shock and grief, then watched it freeze right into fury. The North had never made a weak woman, not way back, and damn sure not now.

  “Yeah,” she breathed as her gaze peeled from me and fixed upon the final man.

  I drew a pistol. I pointed it as if on command.

  "Where's the last one." I said, "Thomas Hartwell. Where is he?"

  "Go to hell," the man said, spitting blood and bits of broken teeth on the dirt. He was slurring, but could still speak good enough for my designs.

  "You got two choices, you slavin' son of a bitch," I knelt down, pressed the hot barrel of my revolver to his forehead with a hiss.

  Damn. Guess I wasn’t above torture after all.

  His arms came up to shove me off, but he was weak. His grip was slippery with blood, and his fingers had been broken by the strike. I burned a black ring into his face as he tried to pull me away.

  "You can tell me where your boss is," click, "and I'll do it fast. Or you can try and be a hero," I touched the trigger and aimed for his belly, "and feed you feet first to my pig."

  A piercing screech from inside the barn punctuated my promise. Almost as she knew that dinner had come in.

  I'd never seen a man so scared. A dark stain bloomed in his trousers and he pissed himself right in front of the lady. I'd have laughed, but he started blubbering, spewing his guts out and telling me everything he knew.

  That was no fun.

  And it fuckin’ shouldn’t be, Roche.

  On the coast. A cove they used as a base. Their boss was tending the 'product' a bunch of locals and far off settlers they'd taken in the night. The rest had come here to get transportation, horses and drakes, a wagon maybe, to get it all moved.

  I smiled as he finished the story, "Good. Honesty is good," I said as I stood and grabbed him by the collar with my good arm. "Marry, you got a rope?”

  She did. And ten minutes later, I had it tied to the strong branch of a lonely oak tree. The only thing taller than the house for miles. The man sobbed as that old farmer from before held him steady, made sure he didn't top the stool under his feet before it was time.

  Saw the dirty faces of the women, and the sullen looks of the men. They'd lost livestock, my family, friends. These bandits had been a blight, one the law refused to excise.

  "Now listen," I said raisin' my voice a touch. We wouldn't have long before some guard got off his ass and decided to check out all the racket, and shoutin' would only make him come sooner, "my name is Roche. I'm a friend of Miss Marry and of anyone good and honest. This man's a slaver, along with his friends. They came to take what wasn't theirs. What you earned."

  I gestured to last of Hartwell's band, to the blood and bodies that littered the farmyard.

  "This what they earned," I kicked, not at the man, but at the stool, "I won't abide it."

  The rope went taut, and wet crack sounded the end of a life. He twitched, once, twice, just the flex of muscles that didn't know they was dead. Then he was still.

  They were all silent as I made and cut him free.

  "Marry. Think that pig is still hungry?"

  She was looking at me with a mix of terror and something else. Something old and ugly and tired.

  "Oh she's hungry Mister Roche, she always is..."