The Bloody Frontier (Pistols and Pyramids Omnibus Book 1) by Jim Johnson

Author:Jim Johnson [Johnson, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Ineti Press
Published: 2016-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

COLD WATER SLITHERING UP HIS NOSE roused Zezago, and he opened his eyes to find his face pressed against wet sand. He inhaled automatically and sat up, coughing out the cold liquid. He leaned over and coughed more, clearing his lungs and head.

He was on his hands and knees in the muck along the western shore of the Iteru. He must have drifted downriver after that Ranger had knocked him back and into the water. He whipped his head back and forth, sending more droplets flying. He pushed himself to his feet and took a few tentative steps up the shoreline and onto dry land.

In the waning sunlight, Zezago took a quick inventory. Headcloth on but tangled around his head and neck. He pulled it off and wrung it out as best he could, then loosely draped it around his neck and shoulders. It’d have to dry before he could re-wrap it. His scabbard was still attached to the belt, but there was no sign of his sword. He tamped down a sudden surge of anxiety about that, and started to walk north along the shore, casting out with his hekau for the blade. He had set a location charm into the pommel of the blade long ago, which had proved useful in more than one battle.

He shook water out of his ears as he walked, his sandals squishing. The Ranger had been a surprise to him from the very start of the engagement. That he had favored the pistol over the sword was disappointing, though not surprising. He shouldn’t have expected much from a Kekhmet heathen. The old ways, the honorable ways, were a dying art. He felt a pang of sorrow for the turning of the world. Things had been so easier, so much more honest, before guns and machines and the strange new hekau known as technology.

His own natural hekau, the true way, pinged in his mind as he got a read on his blade. He moved a few more steps up the river, and then waded into the chilly waters and fished around the sandy river bed. He had to take a breath and dive before he wrapped his hand around the leather grip and surfaced.

Zezago took a deep gulp of air and then waded back to shore with the blade held high. He shook water out of his ears again, and flicked the blade to clear it of most of the water. Using his sodden clothing to dry it would be useless. He sheathed the blade, making a mental note to tend to it as soon as he could. He glanced at the river in distaste. There weren’t such large rivers in his homeland. Traveling over or on this one was a necessary evil of invading Kekhmet, at least until he could secure other means of entry into the broken empire.

He glanced up and down the shore as far as he could see in the growing dusk, and then whistled a sharp tune. He paused to listen, then whistled again.

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