Wayfarer by K.M. Weiland

Author:K.M. Weiland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction Gaslamp Fantasy
Publisher: PenForASword Publishing

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Battle

WILL DUCKED.

Fitzroy’s pistol passed over his face and washed his vision in glittering light.

An illusion. Of course it was not real. Will knew it was not real—and yet still he reacted to it.

He spun back and fired at where Fitzroy stood at the foot of the stairs. Against his palm, the pistol recoiled in a burst of spark and smoke.

The pistol’s ball smashed through Fitzroy’s chest—but in a spew of light, not blood.

Even before his mind completed its recognition of what had happened, Will threw himself down onto the steps. He skidded through the illusions—all of them staring at him with either Fitzroy’s face or his own. Rainbows dazzled him.

A shot ripped a golden path up the crowded stairs.

His already engaged momentum gave him extra speed enough to dodge it—most of it. The ball nicked the heavy twist of the makeshift dagger strapped to his upper arm. Pain smashed against the bone, and he choked on a cry.

He regained his feet and leapt down the remaining half of the stairs.

As one, the illusions followed. They reached for him. They clawed at his face, at his pained arm, at his clothing. He passed through them as if through whispers of air, but the visual sensation bore upon his brain, as if he were in the midst of a true crush. He gritted his teeth and pressed on.

Fitzroy—the real Fitzroy—had been standing at the bottom of the stairs beside Lord Carstone. That had been but a second past. However swift Fitzroy’s illusions, the man himself could not have moved far.

Will rounded the newel post.

Before him, Fitzroy stood, half turned away, reloading the pistol.

Will rushed him. With the iron upon his knuckles, he hammered his fist at Fitzroy’s head.

His hand met nothing but air. Balance compromised, he pitched forward. Before he hit the floor, he hurled his weight back and spun.

Even as he turned, Fitzroy threw his fist against his jaw—and this time it was a true blow of weight and reality.

Will staggered back through more illusions. Lights danced before him, from within his brain as much as from without. The curving banister smashed into him from behind.

He shook his head hard to clear his thoughts. He spun back.

Fitzroy stood before him. A hidden smile lit the corner of his mouth.

Again, Will rushed him. Again, his hand passed through nothing.

But this time, a movement whispered behind him.

Will spun.

One of his doubles clipped his chin and sent him sprawling again.

Was it one of the two doubles whom he had knocked over the banister when first he found Fitzroy with Lord Carstone? Or was it Fitzroy under the disguise?

The double struck him again, with the pistol butt.

Will lunged forward, tried to catch an arm or a leg—anything solid.

The double caught Will’s ankle with his toe. He upended Will upon the floor and pounded a kick under Will’s ribs.

The lights faded to black. Will curled up and started rolling. He bumped the base of the stairway and dragged himself to his feet.

Every breath detonated pain in his chest.

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