Guns of Mars 22
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 7.1
The trio of warriors crested the peak of the long sluice. They rode down along the far sloping bank wall, rust-colored cloud of dust rising in their wake. Silhouetted against the dusk sky, they dismounted to walk their thoats the remaining distance toward the row of ruined structures. They would camp there tonight and be gone at first light.
“We’ll sit tight here and leave in the morning after they’ve moved on,” the bounty man said. He stood inside the shadows beyond the tunnel mouth, an eye fixed to the telescopticon.
Kal grunted. The bounty man turned to him.
“And you’ll keep quiet.”
The thark nodded, trying to hide the pure hatred he felt for the little man.
The bounty man returned to his inspection of the trio. He could now see the finer details of the three tharks.
They were fierce-looking bastards even for their breed. The largest, mounted on a thoat with a jet-black coat, had arms covered in the tattooed bands that signified his number of kills. All four of his arms were ringed from below his elbow to above his biceps. Hundreds of men or tharks had fallen to his blade or lance or bare hands. The old desert fighter was missing his lower right arm which ended in a stump just below the elbow and was covered by a studded leather pouch. One of his tusks was capped with gold where it had been broken off in some past battle. The other two appeared to be younger bucks with only a dozen or so kills between them.
All wore bandoliers of ammunition across their chests meant for the long rifles that rested sheathed to their saddles. He noted the absence of the long-bladed sabers that tharks customarily wore. Hunters then. A war party would be far greater in number.
Behind the bounty man, Kal Keddaq sat upon his mount considering his options. It took him seconds to determine how best to exploit this fleeting opening.
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
