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that came with his badge and blaster were drilled into him all Magistrates,
for that matter
from the day they first entered the academy. The oath was a part of their
every action and reaction a jus-tification and a reason to live, a moral sword
and a shield for the work they performed in service to main-tain order, in
service to the baron. And as Kane and Grant learned, in service to a lie, a
conspiracy hatched hundreds of years before any of them were born.
Kane glanced up into the immobile face of Kiyom-asa, then back down at
Pollard. Quietly, he said, "It's not up to me. You chilled a man's woman and
his child she carried. Even if you didn't do it yourself, you commanded it to
be done or you didn't stop it. Someone else will decide how and when you'll
die. Not me."
He pulled away from Pollard's grasp. "If it means anything, I'm sony."
"It doesn't," Pollard said in a gasping snarl. "Fuck you, traitor."
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Kane rose to his feet, automatically dusting his hands as if they were dirty.
After a moment, Brigid stood.
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James Axler - Outlanders - Doom Dynasty
Another scream cut through the night air and pimpled Kane's flesh beneath his
armor. Brigid glanced toward the pool with slitted eyes, then turned smartly
on a heel, marching away into the shadows until it was over. Kane knew it
would be several hours before the last of the screams stopped.
Facing Kiyomasa, he said lowly, "I would be in your debt if you can see your
way to stopping the torture."
Kiyomasa sighed. "Torture is not our way, either, Kane-san. But the people
whom these men abused, whose families they murdered, whose homes they burned
have earned the right to balance the scales." He paused, hefting his katana
. "As have I. Please do not interfere with what I must do so the spirits of my
woman and baby can rest easily."
"Can you at least promise to make Pollard's end swift?"
Softly, apologetically, he answered, "Forgive me, Kane-san, but I can promise
nothing of the sort."
Kane stared into the man's expressionless face, as impassive as if it were
carved from ivory. He nodded in resignation and turned to walk away, to find
Brigid. He had taken only two steps when he heard a scuff and scutter behind
him and a sobbing laugh.
A jarring, stunning blow against the back of his head caused multicolored
pinwheels to spin behind his eyes. He fell sprawling face first against the
flag-stones, nearly driving all the wind from his lungs. As he went down, he
heard Kiyomasa blurt in angry sur-prise, men a peculiar swish of sound.
With his left hand, Kane heaved himself onto his back, his Sin Eater slapping
into his right palm. Pol-lard towered over him, one boot lifted as if
preparing to stomp the back of his head. Temples throbbing, Kane leveled his
blaster, ready to fire. Pollard did not lower his foot. He simply stood there,
looking ludi-crous while he balanced himself on one foot.
Then light glittered dully from the flat silver spur projecting from the
junction of Pollard's right shoul-der and neck. Kiyomasa stood behind him, his
face set in a grim mask. He had slid his sword with ap-parent ease through
armor, flesh and bones, moving the blade up at a thirty-degree angle until the
point broke free of Pollard's body. Then, with a whipping motion, Kiyomasa
pulled the katana free of the man's polycarbonate-encased torso and lifted it
high.
Kane wasn't sure he even saw the downstroke. One second Kiyomasa's sword was
in the air above his head, then it was down in a slashing blur and coming back
up, the razor edge shearing through Pollard from groin to chest.
Pollard dropped to his knees, his intestines stream-ing out of his body
cavity. His eyes were wide, and his mouth worked as if trying to cast one last
curse at Kane. Then his body toppled forward, scarlet spreading in a widening
pool around him.
Before Kane could climb to his feet, there was an-other flashing sweep of
Kiyomasa's katana
. By the time he stood, Kiyomasa held Pollard's head aloft by his hair.
Bitterly, he asked, "Was his end swift enough for you, Kane-san?"
Chapter 15
Grant strode deliberately out of the confines of the walled courtyard, past
the eviscerated and decapitated bodies of several Magistrates and into the
surrounding darkness. He was glad when he could no longer taste the chemical
tang of lingering CS gas, but he did not stop to take in the fresher air.
He continued walking, entering a tangle of under-growth. He came to a halt
when he heard a muffled whimper at his feet. The Mag he had rendered
un-conscious lay where Grant had dumped him, his jaws still distended by the
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makeshift gag. Ambient moon-light gleamed on his terror-wide eyes. Grant
reached
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James Axler - Outlanders - Doom Dynasty down for him, but he cringed, a whine
bubbling around the tough fabric of the web belt in his mouth.
"Shut up," Grant told him in a fierce whisper, slid-ing his hands under the
man's armpits. He dragged him to his feet. "If I wanted to chill you, I'd have
done it twenty minutes ago."
The Mag trembled violently, his knees quivering, saliva drooling down his chin
from beneath the gag. His face was pallid, drained of all color, his eyelids
fluttering like the wings of a crazed butterfly.
Spinning him, Grant unsheathed his combat knife and slashed through the nylon
cuffs. "I'm not going to hurt you, understand?"
A prolonged, liquidy scream arose from the com-pound, and the Magistrate
jerked in reaction to the sound. His teeth tried to chatter around the strip
of leather and cloth in his mouth, and he clawed at his gag, managing to pull
it down around his neck.
"Think you can find your way back to the instal-lation in the mountains?"
Grant asked quietly.
The young man did not answer for a moment. His eyes darted from Grant to the
direction of the court-yard. Tersely, impatiently, Grant continued, "I'm not
going to chill you. Can you get back to the redoubt or not?"
The youthful Magistrate had lived the past half hour in such intense terror it
could not be easily al-layed.
He managed to choke out, "I think so. Yes. Yes, sir."
Grant gave him a shove out of the thicket. "Then prove it." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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