James Axler Outlander 02 Destiny Run

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"Then tell him exactly what he wants to know. No more, no less." A note of
warning underscored Kane's quiet tone as he straightened up.
Stubbornly Boro asked, "Where is my son?"
Inhaling sharply through her nostrils, Brigid held her breath for a second,
then stated clearly, "Your son is a guest in America, in my home."
Boro's slanted eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. "You speak foolishness,
woman. How did he get from here to your home in America?"
"Yes, Baptiste," drawled Ivornich with a sly smile. "How did he?"
"It is not easy to explain." Brigid gestured, drawing an invisible arched line
in the air between two points. "We used a device which can cover great
distances in a very short time. He was injured, so we took him with us to heal
his wounds."
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Axler, James - Outlanders 02 - Destiny Run
"A device which can cover great distances," Boro repeated doubtfully. "Like
the air horse in the vault of the Black City?"
Brigid exchanged swift glances with Sverdlovosk. He inclined his head a
fraction of an inch in a nod. "Yes," he said. "Like the air horse in the
vault. Have you seen it soaring along the winds?"
Boro shook his head. "No, it is at rest. The wind has not yet blown strength
into it. My son that is, the Tushe Gun studies the mystic formulas to restore
the wind to it. When will Bautu return to the clan?"
Despising the slight quiver the falsehood caused in her voice, Brigid
answered, "When he is healed. When my friends and I return to our home, he
will return to his home."
"You did not kill him?"
"No," she said earnestly, "we did not."
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Sighing, Boro reached for the pot of tea on the hot plate and poured himself
another cup. "Perhaps it is just as well he is not here. He has not been the
same since he felt the dragon's kiss."
Brigid said, "I do not understand."
Boro extended his right index finger. "The Tushe Gun wears a dragon here. It
is the same dragon worn by Genghis Khan. When it kissed Bautu and others in
the clan he changed. He became cruel, he ignored his father." Bitterness
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Axler, James - Outlanders 02 - Destiny Run colored his voice. "He no longer
heeded or obeyed me. He did only the bidding of his little brother, as if a
stripling in a mask would know what is best for the clan."
"So you don't believe your son Shykyr is an anointed one? You don't believe he
is a messiah of your people?"
Boro scowlingly considered the query for a moment, the cup of tea held before
his lips. He took a sip and shook his head. "I do not know. At first I
believed his claims, or I wanted to believe them. He was always something of a
dreamer. But as he spent more time in that thrice-damned vault, tending to the
sacred black flame, he changed. I fear for him and I fear him. He will not
allow even me, his father, to see his unmasked face."
"And your other sons?" asked Brigid, nodding toward Oborgon and Seng. "Were
they kissed by the dragon?"
"No!" Boro exclaimed vehemently. "I refused to allow it. Shykyr and I
quarreled over it. Seng and Oborgon were born a bit slow-witted, you see. They
are addled enough already."
Brigid lifted her eyes toward the twins. Their black eyes glittered at her
impersonally. "Can they understand the language we speak?"
Boro snorted, blowing bubbles in his tea. "They can barely understand their
own tongue, let alone a foreign language."
"Ask them to remove their hats."
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Axler, James - Outlanders 02 - Destiny Run
Eyebrows rising, Boro asked, "Why?"
"Indulge a foreign custom. Ask them to take off their hats in the presence of
ladies."
"What are you driving at, Baptiste?" demanded Sverdlovosk. "They are our
guests."
Ivornich's face was a mask of puzzlement, but she said, "It's a small enough
request."
Boro shrugged. "So it is."
He twisted in his chair and barked an order at his sons. The twins did not
move.
With a bit more heat in his voice, he repeated the command. Slowly, moving
almost in unison, their right hands rose and scraped their fur hats away. Two
small marks, a pale bronze against the deep bronze of their windburned skins,
were visible high on their foreheads. The marks were identical to the one she
had seen on Bautu.
Boro cried out in anger. He pushed himself up and away from the table,
shouting at them in his own dialect. As he stood up, his sons' right hands
dropped to their belts and came up gripping duplicate handblasters, two
mammoth Webley Mk
VI revolvers.
Lenya Ivornich cursed and clawed for the Makarov bolstered at her hip. Two
thunderous bursts of noise, flame and smoke gouted from the hexagonal barrels
of the pistols. There was no subtlety, no artistry or skill about the murder.
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Axler, James - Outlanders 02 - Destiny Run
The heavy .445-caliber bullets caught her in the center of her chest and the
center of her high, white forehead. Part of her scalp floated away in a
crimson haze as she tipped over in the chair, propelled by the double impacts.
She was very dead by the time she hit the floor.
Before she did, Kane and Grant were in simultaneous motion, reacting with the
tensile-spring swiftness of men whose lives always depended on their reflexes.
Gripping the edges of the table, they overturned it, and crackers, cups, trays
and tea cascaded to the floor. Pushing the table through the planes of cordite
smoke like a flat battering ram, they smashed the table against Oborgon and
Seng, sending them staggering through the doorway into the short corridor.
Flinging the table aside, Grant and Kane bounded toward the twins. One had
fallen down they didn't know which one and the other had fetched up against
the wall. They still gripped their blasters and they squeezed off a booming
shot apiece.
Grant spun around in a half circle as the heavy slug caught him on the left
hip, skidding off the Kevlar weave of his coat before burying itself in the
door frame.
The impact hurt him, bruised him, but didn't cause serious damage.
The round fired from the twin on the floor whipped well over Kane's head,
plunging into the wardroom and knocking a saucer-sized crater in the far wall.
With his left foot he stab-kicked the man's gun hand, the edge of his boot
catching the barrel of the Webley and ripping it backward out of his fingers.
As the gun clattered loudly to the floor, Kane's right boot arced up,
connecting solidly with the underside of the Mongol's chin. His head snapped
up and back, and continued snapping back until it struck the concrete floor
with a cruel chock
.
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