The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 17

Steve flattened himself against the wall as the horse's forward momentum carried it past him towards the open doorway where it collided with the samurai. The j.a.p, who was in the process of fitting another arrow to his bow, was thrown against the opposite wall as it clattered past, and the impact knocked the arrow loose from the bowstring.

Realising he was suddenly at a disadvantage, the ' samurai cast the bow aside, drew his sword and rushed towards Steve with a fearsome yell. A bad move. Just as in the fight with the back-up squad, Steve's blade moved faster than the eye could register. The first forward thrust severed the samurai's sword hand at the wrist, the * second drove the curved end of the blade sideways through his throat, cutting his neck clean through to the spine.

Two down, ten to go...

Ordinarily, such odds would have given him pause for thought, but Steve's killer instinct was now well and truly roused. He dragged the blood-drenched body of the samurai out of the way, shut the door firmly and headed back up towards the arena past the second casualty. The

j.a.p lay on his back, choking on his own blood as he clawed feebly at the arrow in his throat. Steve eyed him without compa.s.sion.

Boy... what a fluke shot that had been.

An image of Clearwater came into his mind and a voice told him it was she who had used her gifts as a summoner to give the bladed quarterstaff its power. But was it a finite charge? If so, how long would it last? Was that the gist of the message her clan sister, Night-Fever, had been unable to remember when she had presented the staff to him on his return to the clan? Jeeezz! Steve ran on, hoping like h.e.l.l that the Mute magic was not about to fade out on him like the power in a battery pack. With the kind of odds he was facing he needed all the help he could get.

Racing back into the centre of the arena, Steve saw that the odds had dropped to seven to one. A considerable number of arrows, fired by unseen defenders, were now flying in all directions without finding a target. An intermittent series of loud bangs followed by puffs of smoke told him that somebody was using one of the primitive drum-magazine rifles that the Iron Masters had supplied to the M'Calls.

The smoke issued from the mouth of a cave on the third her but the rifleman's aim was bad and his ineffectual shots only served to increase the samurai's anger and bloodl.u.s.t.

Only the leader now remained on horseback, directing operations. Two archers covered him, firing at anything that moved on the terraces.

Armed with burning brands, the other four were now systematically attacking the ground-floor caves on the right of the arena. Smoke billowed from the interiors of those that were already alight. As the panic-stricken women and children ran out in a vain effort to escape the flames, they were struck down.

This, thought Steve, has gone on long enough.

Running towards the centre of the arena, he planted his feet firmly on the rocky ground and yelled defiantly at the mounted samurai. There was no more than fifty yards between them. To judge from the shrill reaction, the sight of an armed Mute seemed to give the rider'

apoplexy. Wheeling his horse round to face Steve, the samurai ordered the two archers to cut the insolent lumphead down.

Once again, Steve made two incredible deflections, catching the converging arrows on either side of the blade and sending them winging past him with an adroit flick of the wrist. And again. And again!

Zzzikk -zzzokk!

Pow-Pow.t ,Away they went. His reaction time and his perception seemed to have speeded up by several thousand per cent. The arrows appeared to float slowly towards him, giving him plenty of time to bat them out of the way.

Hhhhawwww! The head samurai practically fell out of the saddle. His startled archers had another cause for worry. With all the previous mayhem they were now out of arrows. And Steve was closing in the gap between them, moving in for the kill. Out came the swords, but neither man was keen to make the first move against what was clearly a serious contender. The rider, however, figured he had a clear advantage, and spurred his horse forward, psyching himself up with a tongue-twisting battlecry.

Steve waited until he got up some speed, heaved a rock at him, then sprinted rapidly off to the left towards the terrace of boulders that formed the edge of the arena. His path was angled past the oncoming samurai, forcing him into a choice between making a wide galloping turn, or hauling back on the reins in order to hang a sharp right.

Unsettled by the rock that bounced off his breastplate, he made a manoeuvre which fell somewhere in between, by which time Steve was standing on top of a boulder, brandishing his quarterstaff above his head as if he was playing king of the heap.

The boulder on which Steve was standing was about the same height off the ground as the rider's stirrups.

The size of the boulders and the manner in which they were cl.u.s.tered together made it impossible for the samurai to pursue Steve over them, should he decide to retreat further. He had to take him to where he stood. To make sure Steve stayed there, he ordered the two archers to get round behind him. The j.a.ps split up and began their pincer movement as the samurai positioned his horse for another charge.

Meanwhile the mindless slaughter over on the other side of the arena continued.

Pow! The rifleman in the upper cave finally got a round on target.

One of the advancing archers was knocked flying by the heavy metal slug. He stayed down, sprawled across a rock, one leg jerking feebly.

Six down, six to go...

Riding in from right to left across Steve's front, the samurai curved in towards the rocks, sword poised, the shield on his left arm raised to parry Steve's counterblow.

He and the horse were clearly used to working together.

Steve, who now stood head and shoulders above the samurai, guessed correctly that his attacker would try to cut the legs from under him.

The slashing blow when it came was lightning fast, but Steve was even faster. Leaping clear of the sweeping blade, he twisted his body round to the left, spinning like a top as the samurai sped by. The quarterstaff, extended at a downward angle, and rotating with the speed and force of a helicopter blade, pa.s.sed under the rear of the samurai's helmet and came out under his plaited chin-strap. With the head still seated inside, the wide-brimmed helmet lifted into the air and described several backward somersaults before hitting the ground. The rest of his body swayed drunkenly in the saddle as the horse galloped on. Steve did not have the time to watch what happened to it. His attention was now focused on the surviving archer.

Realising he was next in line, the j.a.p turned in his tracks and beat a hasty retreat. Steve raced after him, leaping effortlessly over the jumbled heap of rocks like a mountain goat. The archer fell awkwardly off the last rock into the arena, picked himself up and scuttled towards the four remaining samurai, yelling at the top of his voice.

With a few, swift, bounding strides, Steve caught up with him.

Realising he had to make a stand, the j.a.p gave one last despairing shout to his companions, then turned and a.s.sumed a fighting stance, with both hands on the hilt of his sword. But by this time, Steve was moving forward like a steam train. As the j.a.p began to bring his sword down, Steve - who was holding his quarterstaff level across his chest punched both arms upwards to parry the blow.

Yahhh!! The thick wooden shaft hit the underside of the j.a.p's arms with the impact of an iron bar, shattering both elbows. The force of the blow, added to Steve's initial momentum, lifted the j.a.p off his feet and sent him flying backwards.

By the time he hit the ground, Steve was already bearing down on his next target: a samurai who had just cut down a young woman fleeing from a burning cave and was about to kill another who had tripped and fallen with a small child in her arms. She was now on her knees, pleading for mercy. Some chance.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw more trouble on the way. The three other samurai, now fully alerted to his troublesome presence, were running towards him.

But first things first.

The nearest samurai had also seen the danger from Steve but his mind was already committed to making a killing stroke that would dispatch both woman and child.

For a fleeting instant, his raised sword wavered. It was the chance Steve needed. Coming in from the side, he thrust his quarterstaff forward, driving the full length of the blade in through the j.a.p's exposed armpit into the chest cavity beyond.

Nine down, three to go.

He turned to face the final trio. They were a gruesome sight. With the samurai who had just had his card cancelled, they had done most of the close-quarter killing, and their body armour and swords were smeared with blood.

And the next blood to be spilled will be yours, thought Steve. Come on staff! Don't fail me now!

Emboldened by his spirited attack and the dwindling number of samurai, the camp-women began to reappear.

Some of them picked up the halberds lying by the bodies of the earlier defenders; others gathered up arrows and fitted them to bows. Over on his left, two women finished off the stunned samurai whose arms he had broken. The rest formed a ragged but resolute semi-circle behind the trio of swordsmen facing Steve.

The scent of victory was in the air and they wanted to be in at the kill. Steve waved to them to stay back. After the way those arrows had been flying around earlier, he did not want to risk getting in the way of a near miss at this stage of the game.

While the two outside samurai edged outwards, figuring how best to take Steve, the guy in the middle spun on his heel and advanced on the women, hopping from one foot to the other like a bandy-legged bogey man, shouting angrily and brandishing his sword. For a minute it worked. Two or three turned and fled. The rest wavered and took a few paces backwards but then rallied and held their ground.

Steve knew he had to strike while the middle man had his back turned.

The two on his right and left were clearly planning to take him from both sides. A frontal attack on one would leave him exposed to the other.

Steve leapt through the s.p.a.ce between them, twisting round in the air so that he landed squarely on his feet behind both men, facing his previous position. It was a tremendous jump. From a standing start he had cleared over twelve feet. If his body had not been energised by the power in the quarterstaff he would have been lucky to cover half that distance.

As the startled j.a.p on his right turned to bring his sword to bear, Steve swung the iron-shod b.u.t.t of his quarterstaff up and round, delivering a lethal uppercut to the base of the jaw. It landed at the point where the hangman places his knot and produced the same effect a broken neck. Then, in one continuous movement, he caught the sword blow from the second j.a.p on the cross-piece set below his own blade, and swung the b.u.t.t forward and upwards in between the samurai's splayed legs. The impact lifted him clean off the ground. As he came back down and crumpled forwards under the pain, Steve snapped his head back with another iron-b.u.t.t-blow under the chin, then, sensing danger, he spun round to face the attack of the advancing middle man.