The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 80

More were flying in their direction. Men were going down on all sides, but they could not retreat. Drawing their bows, the surviving archers loosed several flights of arrows at the she-devil - for they were now close enough to see her long hair flowing in the wind like dark wings on either side of her chalk-white face.

Once again Clearwater brought her outstretched hands together level with her shoulders, drawing the s.h.i.+fting vaporous planes of light around her into a vertical wedge whose point lay beyond her fingertips.

As the speeding arrows reached her, they were deflected to either side of her body. Hhawww! The archers fired another volley. And again they bounced off in all directions! It was as if she was protected by an invisible wall! Throwing aside their bows, the samurai now reduced by the hail of stones to a third of their number - pressed forward cautiously, brandis.h.i.+ng their swords and calling on AmeratsuoOmikami to aid them.

Clearwater turned her outstretched palms towards the ground and splayed her fingers as the tips of her thumbs came together. A second chilling cry burst from her lips, more frightening than the first. The advancing samurai found themselves rooted to the spot. The ground under their feet trembled, making their bodies quiver and their teeth rattle. Their swords fell from their twitching fingers. Their stomachs churned, their hearts pounded faster and faster and their heads felt as if they were about to burst. The weak-walled blood vessels - the fatal legacy of their defective gene structure - gave way as they were struck down by ma.s.sive multiple haemorrhages. Veins split open, causing their faces and hands to turn greyish purple. Blood oozed from their eyes and noses as major arteries ruptured, flooding their brains and plunging them into a dark bottomless pit.

All were dead before they hit the ground.

'Lord Yama-s.h.i.+ta, his rich clothes bloodied and torn, stumbled from the wrecked grandstand in time to see the white-faced figure step over the bodies of his fallen samurai. With a sudden flash of awareness he realised whose face lay behind the mask.

The Consul-General's long-dog wh.o.r.e! The gutter-b.i.t.c.h whose hairy body he had secretly observed with a mixture of loathing and fascination.

The non-person he had so cruelly mocked had defied his power, wreaked havoc on his family and brought him to the edge of ruin!

It was beyond belief, but the proof lay all around him. A curse on her! A curse on all women!

Drawing his sword, he tossed the scabbard aside and looked around for support. About a dozen members of his own family had clawed their way out of the wreckage; others were still struggling to free themselves.

He called upon those who could to come to his aid. With his sword held out in front of him, both hands gripping the hilt, he limped towards Clearwater. No one followed. So be it.

He would show them the kind of courage it took to become the most powerful domain-lord in Ne-Issan.

Clearwater waited silently as he approached, her arms still outstretched, fingertips together, pointing at Yama-s.h.i.+ta's face. The domain-lord stopped a blade's length away and a.s.sumed the splay-footed stance that preceded the killing stroke. His eyes met hers, saw them

glow like ice crystals pierced by the sun. The ground trembled under his feet. His leg muscles quivered. His brain urged him to strike before it was too late, but his arms did not respond and he could no longer deflect his gaze from her eyes.

Clearwater slowly interlocked finger and thumb and clenched her hands together. Those watching with hated breath saw Yama-s.h.i.+ta reverse his grip on the sword hilt then slowly raise his arms to bring the angled tip of the blade in line with his belly. And they saw the white-faced witch - for that was what she must be - flex her arms, then thrust her clenched hands towards the domain-lord.

Yama-s.h.i.+ta knew the power that flooded through his arms and drove the point of his sword through his body was not his own, but it was impossible to resist. Nor could he resist the silent command to withdraw the sword and plunge it in again. And again! The first two thrusts had numbed his brain and frozen his tongue, but now the acc.u.mulated pain swiftly took hold and he screamed with agony as the sword made its third pa.s.sage through his body.

The weaker members of his family who had lacked the courage to follow him watched in horrified disbelief as he thrust the sword through his body for a fourth time. And again he screamed. But did not fall. A fifth thrust reduced him to a gibbering wretch, swaying unsteadily on blood-soaked feet, alternately shrieking and sobbing as he begged for mercy. But the white witch was unmoved.

Only when he had pierced his body for the eighth time did Clearwater let Yama-s.h.i.+ta sink to his knees in a pool of his own blood. And she did not move until he toppled forward, still clutching the hilt of his buried sword, and came to rest with his lifeless face kissing the gra.s.s at her feet.

Clearwater stretched her arms upwards in triumph and the earth responded with a dying peal of earth-thunder.

Those before her who were still on their feet backed away, then turned and ran for their lives.

Steve, who had managed to catch the reins of one of several runaway horses, rode up behind her. When their eyes met, he saw in her gaze a look that sent a chill down his spine. If the eyes, as Mr Snow had said, were the window of the soul, then there was a stranger lurking in the room beyond.

'So perish all enemies of the Plainfolk..." Her hushed voice was drained of all emotion.

Steve helped her up on to the horse. Her body seemed incredibly light and fragile, like a dry corn husk. She clasped her arms round his waist. 'Hold tight,' he said.

He held on to her wrists as he turned the horse and galloped towards the waiting planes.

Three were now lined up with their noses into wind.

Cadillac was already aboard the first. He reached over and helped lift Clearwater into the front seat. The Mute was bright-eyed and raring to go. Steve eyed him. Yeah.

Of course. That was his hang-up: what made him run.

Cadillac always wanted to be on the winning side.

Steve blew a kiss to Clearwater, then slapped the outside of the c.o.c.kpit. 'Okay, move it! We'll be right behind you!" He stepped back as Cadillac fired the booster and watched the machine speed away from the gra.s.s. Six seconds into the burn, Cadillac fired two tubes instead of one, then jettisoned the trolley.

Kelso watched over Steve's shoulder as the plane went up in an almost vertical climb. 'Should you have let them go together?"

'Did you want to ride with her?"

'Not after what I just saw, but -' 'Don't worry. These four planes are wired to blow just like the others. And I've still got the transmitter."

Kelso gave a quick laugh. 'In that case I'd better watch my step."

'Hey! Cut the jokes!" cried Jodi. 'I think there's some guys coming round back of us!" Steve heard the tell-tale drumming of hoofbeats as he followed her pointing finger. 'You're right! Go on two like Cadillac did!" He pushed Jodi and Kelso towards the nearest plane and ran to the next in line. Jodi still had one leg outside the c.o.c.kpit when Kelso fired the boosters.

Steve reached out and yanked the firing handle as the first wave of hors.e.m.e.n crashed through the bushes and galloped on to the field.

Shwaa-paa-POWW! The plane started to roll forward. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon I The trolley rapidly picked up speed, but not fast enough to out-distance the leading horseman. The samurai galloped out to the right to avoid the smoke trail from the booster rockets and drew level with the wing, his bow arched. At that distance he couldn't miss, but Mo-Town must have been rooting for Steve. The arrow hit one of the upright spruce struts, splitting it as it punched through, and buried its point in Steve's thigh. Ahhghh, Christo!

The samurai didn't get a chance for a second shot. As he reached over his shoulder for another arrow, Steve aimed his arm over the side and blew him out of the saddle with a triple volley.

As Kelso and Jodi soared into the air ahead of him, Steve saw why Cadillac had fired two tubes and fired them early. The field ahead was littered with stones and bodies.

Gritting his teeth against the pain that lanced through his right leg, he triggered one and five and followed the two Trackers up into the Sky in a steep climbing turn to the west.

Beyond the line of crimson forested hills lay the Hudson. And if Skull-Face had meant what he had said, there'd be a field like the one marked on the map that had been left in his shack, with a white hollow square in it. But first, there was one last piece of business to attend to.

Steve dropped his left wing and looked down at the tiny figures swarming around the plane they'd left behind.

With the help of Jodi, Kelso and Cadillac, he had hauled the two rocket carts close in on either side of the plane, then tossed nearly all their remaining grenades into the c.o.c.kpit. He took out the transmitter and selected the appropriate b.u.t.ton. 'Adios, amigos."

There were two, almost simultaneous flashes. First the plastic explosive aboard the plane with its extra topping of grenades, then the two rocket carts. The smoke ballooned onwards, then rolled back in on itself and rose into the sky, leaving the ground beneath ablaze. Most of the tiny figures had stopped moving.

Steve let his gaze roam further afield. There was little sign of movement anywhere. The Heron Pool had been devastated, the swaggering Iron Masters had been dealt a blow they would long remember. But what of the cost?

How many had died in the crossfire while he, Clearwater, the Shogun and maybe his Herald - had been settling their personal accounts? How many more Would suffer for what he had done? He quickly killed the rising feelings of remorse. These things had to be done. Best not to think about it too much . . .

At 3,000 feet the air was noticeably colder. But no doubt things would soon start to warm up. He joined the others, slipping between them to take the lead as they drifted westwards, rising on a gentle updraft.

Clearwater waved, Cadillac gave him a thumbs-up sign. Jodi and Kelso punched the air with their fists; the exultant victory sign used by TrailBlazers.

Steve responded instinctively. YO!

They'd been lucky. Everyone had pulled their weight, but it was Clearwater who had saved the day. He'd been lucky too. If the arrow hadn't hit the strut first it could have gone right through his thigh.

Sweet Mother! It was really hurting. Still, there wasn't too much blood. He would survive. And getting it out wouldn't be as bad as when Cadillac had pulled that crossbow bolt through his arm.

But apart from that - all in all - quite a reasonable start to the day...