Guns of Mars 27
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 8.1
He awoke trussed and aching with the broad face of Kal Keddaq grinning down at him.
He shifted and tugged, trying the bonds that held his wrists at his back and another strap above the elbows for extra measure. His boots were gone as well. The same braided leather thong he’d used to hobble the thark was secured around his ankles. Shortened, of course.
It was dark inside the tunnel, the night chill hardly reduced by a fire of stacked timbers. The smoke rose to gather against the curved roof invisible in the gloom above them. Set above the flames was a spitted haunch of thoat meat. It dripped fat to sizzle into the embers.
“I am surprised to see you conscious,” the thark said with a degree of satisfaction. “In truth, I was surprised to find you alive.”
“And I suppose you’ll make me sorry for that,” the bounty man said with a rasp. He could taste blood on his tongue. His own.
“You will enjoy many days of regret,” the thark’s grin became even uglier. “You have much to atone for.”
The thark’s arms and torso were black with dried blood. The blade of his saber shone crimson. He had a new bandolier filled with fat cartridges and a big bore pistol was strapped about his hips. Behind him the thoats stood reined to a huge, rusted ringbolt set in the frame of a great lock that once sealed the great tunnel. The bounty man noted that Kal’s mount had a long-barreled rifle strapped to it and his, the bounty man’s, pistol rig hung from the pommel.
“The three riders?”
“Dead.”
“Were they of your tribe?”
“Samathaan. Desert trash.”
“Someone will come looking for them.”
“They’d only began their hunt,” Kal snorted. “It will be days, weeks, before they are missed. And we shall be long gone by then.”
“Unless they were part of a larger party,” the bounty man said. Sitting up with difficulty. “It’s all open country to the south of here. They’ll see us before we ever see them.”
“We will ride south, or at least I will. But we will be not be seen.” The thark nodded toward the greater darkness of the tunnel’s depths.
“You mean to travel by the canal? You’re mad.”
“Oh, we will go south with the canal as far as it will take us.”
“And be eaten by an orluk or our skulls crushed by white apes.”
“I can outride them. You can’t outrun them.” The thark’s grin widened further still.
“You expect me to walk the length of the canal?”
“I expect you to walk until you die. We leave at first light.” Kal walked to the fire where he squatted to stoke the blaze higher with the end of a stick.
The bounty man’s stomach roiled at the smell of the hot grease. His parched tongue felt like sand against his palette.
“Can I have a strip of that leg then?” he said. “And a few swallows of water.”
Silhouetted against the dancing flames, the thark did not even turn to regard him. Though Kal’s features were hidden, the amusement in his voice was plain to hear.
“Clearly you do not understand our new arrangement, little man.” He chuckled drily. “But I promise it will be made clear even to as dull a wit as yours by first light.”
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
