Ghosts of Sanctuary (The Sanctuary Series Book 9) by Robert J. Crane

Author:Robert J. Crane [Crane, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ostiagard Press
Published: 2018-02-16T07:00:00+00:00

27.

Cyrus

Vara’s pistol roared in Cyrus’s ear. If she felt half as furious as he did at the sight of Rodanthar—his father’s sword, his mother’s sword—in the hands of this black-hearted, thieving villain, the blast of the weapon in his ear made her sentiments clear.

Tirner Gaull did not drop his smirk as she shot at him; Rodanthar came up as he turned sideways. Vara’s shot was well-placed, but was deflected off the edge of the blade as Gaull held it up as a kind of shield along his flank. It was surprisingly effective given that the bullet moved entirely too fast for him to do much more than give his best guess where it could go, even with the enhanced speed the weapon surely afforded him.

Cyrus drew one of the remaining pistols and fired it at him, aiming lower. Gaull flexed, stepping back as Cyrus took aim, Praelior in one hand to allow him to match Gaull’s reflexes, the other holding the gun steady as he lined up the sights on Gaull’s thigh.

The billowing of smoke that followed his shot clouded Cyrus’s vision for an elongated second or two, but when it cleared he saw Gaull a few steps from where he’d been when the shot rang out, still smirking. The bullet must have passed cleanly beyond him, Cyrus concluded, and he dropped the pistol to grab another.

Vara fired another shot now, having pulled another pistol from his belt without his notice, and it went off like an explosion in his ear. Her aim was true, but once again Rodanthar caught the metal projectile along the surface of the blade, intercepting it before it could turn Gaull’s face into a bloody mess.

“Damn!” she said in his ear, the word almost lost among the ringing sound. She sounded furious.

Cyrus had one pistol left, and he put a hand on it—

Just as the toughs clustered behind Gaull loosed their own volley.

Cyrus could see the bullets dancing through the air, moving like little metal arrows in quick flight. He could not reach out and tap them from the air, though for a second he thought he might. Vara brought Ferocis up to her face, holding it before her cheek as one of the bullets clanged against its surface and another caused her to make a grunting sound and drove her back a step. When he glanced at her, he saw a small, dark, indentation in her otherwise spotless breastplate, and the deformed metal ball, flat on one side, came rolling off as she grimaced in pain.

One of the shots took Cyrus in the side of the neck as he ducked, stinging like a wasp had crept between the links of chainmail under his gorget. He reached up quickly to be sure it hadn’t somehow gotten him through the armor, but he felt no blood, only a stinging welt. Another took him cleanly in the chest and bounced off without even the dent that Vara’s armor showed. Another caught him under the exposed armpit when he’d reached up.

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