Choking on his own blood, Calvin stared up at Elise in the booth seat of the phantom train. He felt cold, as if he were submerged in an ice bath. Dark blood trickled off the seat and onto the floor. Still, Calvin focused only on Elise’s beautiful eyes. He took these precious moments to admire the face of the stormy witch before his vision faded away.

  The scene before Calvin was peaceful, some hilly ranch he had never been to before. He found himself sitting in a rocking chair, a book in his lap. A gentle breeze tossed the tree foliage about, bringing with it a pleasant earthen smell. Looking down, Calvin saw he was in worn jeans, no gunbelt on his hip. He felt larger, older. His heart jumped as he heard a woman’s voice next to him.

  “You think they’ll come out with another one of these?” Elise spoke from her chair, next to his. Her hair tied back in a bun, she studied the novel open in her hands. They had the same book.

  Calvin took a moment to look at her, having matured into a gorgeous, fully grown woman. This might have been his life, he thought. He might have had something. His eyes began to water as he realized this was only a dream, or something far more sad and pathetic.

  The bizarre death throes of fading mind.

  “No…no….” Elise bawled in the train’s booth seat, “Calvin no…”

  Calvin’s glassy eyes were still open, though she could hardly see them through her tears. Her throat stung as she let out a guttural agonized moan. She had failed to save the Six-Gun under her.

  From his spot on the floor, Logan heard her cries. He strained against Flush, keeping the knife from plunging into him. Something had happened to one of his students, he knew it. He had to keep his frame, however, or he would be next. Then the rest of them would be killed in short order. He could simply not allow that to happen.

  His other two students hadn’t joined in. He did not expect them to; fighting against veteran Six-Guns would be suicide for them. This was a very unfortunate mission, Logan thought. If he were on his own, hunting the enemy on top of him, this would be fine. Favorable even, as he appeared to be quicker than Flush. But the boys and the witches had created extra complications.

  The cramped train car made it difficult for him to go for the kill. He hardly had space to fight. It was time to remedy that, by Logan’s calculation. The train had to be Flush’s summon. If Flush could summon it, he could dispel it. Logan knew he had to force him to do it. He would have to use a sanctioned Nootu technique.

  Having decided on his strategy, Logan swapped his grip on Flush’s arm and wrenched it sideways. The razor sharp knife sank into the upholstery of the seat, and Logan followed up with a blow to Flush’s wrist, which the enemy Gun had detected. He withdrew his hand and sprang back off of Logan.

  At the same time, the other Gun pulled his pistol to execute Logan while he lay on the floor. Logan hiked his legs up, planting his hands on the floor, and tumbled over to kick the other Gun’s pistol from his hand. The Gellerite clattered and slid under a booth seat. As Logan followed through on his kick, his foot landing on the floor, Flush lunged for him with pistol leveled. He attempted a point-blank shot. The Bootknife pushed Flush’s pistol down with his left hand and the Gun went off, sending a shot through the floor. With his right hand free and a foot firmly planted, Logan sent a hateful right hook at Flush.

  His teacher’s martial prowess left John awestruck. He hadn’t seen such fluid, calm movements in his life. His own father had been lauded as a powerful sorcerer, and his brothers too were known for the strength of their Resolve. But this kind of combat was foreign to him. Logan wasn’t using any Resolve spells or shooting with his pistol. These moves belied an incredible internal logic and decision making process in Logan’s mind. The sight of it brought a cold feeling to John.

  The veteran Oathbreaker caught Logan’s hand, as the Bootknife had anticipated. He pressed his left leg forward and brought it down on Flush’s right arm, pinning it to the floor with his shin. The two were brought to a crouch, holding one another in a mutual lock. The second enemy, now disarmed, wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck to get a chokehold on him. It seemed the combat was drawing to a close.

  The Bootknife remained calm, his eyes razor sharp. Pulling himself closer to Flush, he formed the Rite of Release with his left hand. He felt his throat being crushed by the powerful chokehold he was in; he couldn’t breathe.

  “We… got you…” Flush panted, “You’ll black out in a few…”

  “I’ll borrow this.” Logan forced the fingers on his right hand in between Flush’s fingers and gripped tightly.

  Their two hands together in this orientation formed a dispel Rite. Flaring his Resolve, Logan pushed his energy into the Rite of Dispel. This baffled Flush, who stared at him in shock.

  “That won’t work! I’m Hearts!” Flush smirked, “I don’t even know how you’d think of that.”

  Flush knew that they could only share a such a Rite this way, each of their hands coming together to form it, if they shared Resolve which was dominated by the same type. Logan knew that the Diamond-Hunter Flush belonged to the Hearts suit, but Flush did not know that The Bootknife did too.

  In that instant the entire train disappeared in a thick cloud of smoke, throwing its passengers onto the tracks. Their momentum carried them painfully over the rails and onto the grass beside the track.

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  Rolling, John felt a jolt of pain as his back slammed on a rock. He tried to pick himself up, noting the enemy Gun who had Logan in the headlock. The enemy had been cast onto the rails, his arm busted up. He picked himself up slowly, groaning.

  A few feet away Logan tumbled alongside Flush. Though he felt his head hit the rails hard, Logan kept his composure. He found his footing quickly, poised to strike. Flush, disoriented, had dropped his pistol. He only had Logan’s knife, which he swiped viciously at him. With the space to back up, Logan evaded the blow. He took the chance to grip Flush’s arm, which had followed through on the swing, and pull his own pistol. There was no defense for the Oathbreaker. Logan unloaded three shots at point-blank into Flush’s armpit, obliterating his lungs and heart.

  Flush watched in his dying moments as Logan assessed the situation. Somewhere in his mind, the Oathbreaker knew there was no way he could best the Bootknife. Every time he killed a Diamond, Flush wondered what it be like to be on the other end. He wondered if his enemy would offer him some shameful last remarks to send him off to the afterlife. The Bootknife didn’t offer any kind of line, nor did he stare him down and share a moment as predator and prey. In Flush’s last moment he saw an operator, not a predator. Though his head was bleeding, Logan’s eyes remained sharp. The killing edge of the Bootknife had been honed to perfection. The sight of it brought the slightest smirk to Flush’s face as he passed away on the tracks.

  ^^^

  Calvin found himself in a dark place. All sensation had left him. There was nothing to see or hear, smell, or even feel. Complete sensory deprivation overtook his mind. Then suddenly, a dim lamp turned on, as if it were overhead. It cast a cone of yellow light in the darkness. Calvin stood at the edge of it, looking in. Four other figures similarly stood at the edge of the light. Calvin could see each one clear enough, but nothing beyond them.

  There stood across from him, a tall sorcerer-gunslinger in a wide hat. His profile shaped by a long cloak, he appeared incredibly imposing. His face was partially covered in a blank mask. Only one scarlet eye stared back at him. The grin on his face widened, unnaturally so.

  Beside him Calvin noted the dark figure from his dreams, the man made of coal. Those eyes of burning embers were yet again fixed upon him. There also stood an oddly proportioned figure resembling the scarecrows Calvin had seen standing in fields. Its skin, if it could be called that, bulged and swelled in places. The stitching along its joints popped, spilling sickly yellow straw from the openings.

  The other figure appeared out of place in this gallery of horrors. It was young woman in a flowing dress, her hands resting in front of her. Wavy blonde hair tumbled down her back, and her golden eyes rested on him. She studied him carefully, a soft curiosity in her gaze.

  “Oh no…” The tall, red-eyed figure spoke, “You got a hole in you, boy.”

  His voice took on an amused tone.

  “The King has a use for you, so I’ll help you out. But try not to die again before we get to you.”

  Flames engulfed Calvin, the burning sensation overriding his mind. A moment of torment passed as Calvin’s vision went yellow.

  “No shirking your duties to the King…” the words scratched through his mind as a falling sensation overtook him.

  ^^^

  With a deep gasp, Calvin jolted awake. He lay in the grass near the train tracks. Elise had bent over his stomach, weeping onto him. She jumped back as she felt him move. Immediately Calvin’s hands shot to his chest. He yanked open his shirt, the buttons flying, to find the bullet hole had completely closed. A thick scar lay in its place at the center of his chest. That winding yellow mark on his shoulder glimmered a bit, like smoldering embers. He and Elise both watched as the smoldering subsided.

  Speechless, the weeping witch stared at him. Her face had reddened, the tears carrying black Coven eyeliner down her cheeks.

  John shifted back in his place as the remaining Oathbreaker stepped towards him. Still missing his gun, the Oathbreaker had pulled a Gellerite knuckle duster onto his hand. Buster lay groaning next to him, face down. He had fallen hard when the train disappeared. The killing intent of the Oathbreaker, aimed at John, shook the young Calhoun to the core. His mind searched for a scrap of courage as his enemy closed the gap.

  Mustering everything he had, John pulled his pistol. The Oathbreaker froze in place, staring at him. With his pistol leveled at the enemy, John breathed heavily. The gun lightly rattled with the shaking of John’s hand. He didn’t know if he had it in him to shoot the man.

  It would be so easy to pull the trigger. He had done it hundreds of times training on Crickett’s mountain. One motion of the finger and the threat to his life evaporated. But in this moment, staring down the enemy, the oppressive resolve of the Oathbreaker had cowed him.

  A Critical Moment came as Logan stepped close. Sensing it, the Oathbreaker prepared a swing with his knuckle duster. This poor attack was caught by the Bootknife, who wrapped his left arm around the enemy’s right. He pressed it down and snapped the Oathbreaker’s elbow. John heard a hearty crack, followed by a harsh howl. The painful cry was cut short as Logan pulled him down by his arm and raised his pistol to the man’s chin, pulling the trigger. He let the Oathbreaker drop, his brains blown out the top of his head.

  “You ok?” Logan let out a breath

  His pistol still raised, John shivered.

  “Talk!”

  “I’m good.” John lowered his gun.

  Logan nodded to Buster “The Clown good?”

  “I… I think so…”

  Still face down, Buster weakly raised his hand. He formed a thumbs up.

  “Its Calvin!” John sprang up, “They shot him, I think!”

  Turning his head, Logan spotted Calvin and Elise across the tracks. He stepped over alongside John. Calvin appeared to be alright, now standing. Logan had noted when Calvin was shot, he wondered if Elise pulled through and healed him.

  “Calvin, you good?” Barked the Bootknife.

  Turning to him, Cal showed his scar. “Yeah. I’m fine. I was shot, but… I’m fine.”

  “Looks like you ARE worth a damn.” He turned to Elise, “Good save, Princess.”

  Wiping her face, Elise shook her head. “It wasn’t me. He… He was gone. He really was. I clammed up.”

  His face tightening, Logan frowned. This was far too much for a young witch. It wasn’t right for her to be put on the spot like this. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s ok. You stayed by him.”

  The tone surprised Elise. Logan never spoke that way to anyone.

  “I got a good guess as to what saved you.” Logan shot a sharp glace to Calvin’s exposed mark.

  Calvin dropped his head a bit. “It was a burning feeling. They want me, teach.”

  “I know. They’re not gonna get you.” Logan stepped to him.

  Calvin looked up at him, his eyes pregnant with anxiety. He met the sure gaze of the Bootknife.

  “I won’t let anything like this happen to you again, Calvin.”

  Logan’s words struck Cal as hard as the bullet had. It brought a heavy feeling to his chest.

  “Alright.” Logan turned away, “Let’s go on and collect ourselves. We got business with the Hobos who set us up.”

  He looked over to where Buster had been lying, watching Mavis help him up.

  “And unfortunately for you, Cal, I gotta report this little resurrection to the Foreman.”