Pulp Fable: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel by Sean-Michael Argo & Sarah Stone

Author:Sean-Michael Argo & Sarah Stone [Argo, Sean-Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-28T22:00:00+00:00

12

Far ahead of them, Nameless crouched upon a rock, staring out from his mask at the approaching travelers.

Stagmother looked battered and bloody and had coyotes following close behind, their haphazard gunfire and howls echoing as they bounced off the rocks. There was a second traveler as well, but Nameless could not see the man himself, only the slightest impression of him, the fleeting thought.

Nameless adjusted the full-faced mask where it was tied at the back of his head, made certain that it was in no danger of coming loose. He stood at the top of the outcropping, a large, nearly flat rock beneath his feet; a steep slope led up to him—certainly not impassable, but a tiring distance to drag yourself up. This was where Stagmother and her companion ran. This was their salvation. Nameless began to sing, softly, as if to himself, though his song carried a deeper magic than what any other might give voice with.

As he sang, Stagmother and the masked man reached the stone. All of the bullets fired their way were gently encouraged to miss, and all the rocks tossed flew wide. Nameless, still singing softly, was moving down the slope before they reach the summit, stepping around them and ignoring the looks their obvious confusion. Stagmother looked more bemused than anything, her curiosity shining through the pain that colored her features.

Nameless drew a jagged piece of sharpened stone from the leather thong at his waist, a mighty weapon from his ancient past. The handle was smooth and wrapped in leather made from the purple buffalo his people had once hunted on open plains long turned to dust. It was not as apt to slice through armor or bone, but was easier to wield, less cumbersome. Deadly quick.

Guns fired, but Nameless knew the bullets’ path before they took it. Knew where to put his feet.

From above, Stagmother watched as though viewing a dance, the masked man staring beside her. She counted four of them left, but Nameless made short work of them. She saw the stone take one through the neck, another through the eye. The remaining two took longer, but still, the time was barely of note. The stone blade caught on the club that one held out to block him, and the longest lull of the fight came when Nameless kicked the beast in the chest and pulled his weapon free, knocking the weapon from the coyote’s hand as he did so. When they all lay dead around him, Nameless strode back through the bodies and up the rise, where Stagmother and the masked man still stood.

When he reached them, Nameless took the wine bottle from Stagmother’s belt, and then walked away again. Stagmother nodded, but the masked man arched a brow in confusion. Nameless walked with care back down the hill, avoiding the blood spatters, and knelt at the one he had stabbed through the neck. He caught the blood in the thin neck of the bottle with hands that had done the same more times than anyone could have counted, not spilling a drop.

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