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[Black Bowman]

Part Seven

Oxford, Mississippi, September 21, 1863

Shani looked around the office for a moment as she gathered her things together.  She and Pania had been in the town for nearly two weeks.  They'd gone from hunted outlaws to trusted peacemakers, in just two weeks.  After Shani took down Dorval, life in Oxford grew much more peaceful.  A new judge came in from Jackson, and the rest of Dorval's men were sent to trial.  Some were given light sentences.  Others, like Mitch and Gator, had enough evidence against them that they would share the same fate that they visited upon Joshua.  Peace had returned to this little spot in the south.

Now it was time for the two elven gunslingers to move on.

Johnathon Caleb Walker stood in the doorway as Shani finished packing her things.  He watched her as she gazed upon the silver star that she wore for those two weeks.  It had become an extension of her, something that she didn't even take notice of.  Sheriff Wennemein.  It did have a ring to it.  “Lotta people gonna be a bit disappointed that yer movin' on,” he said in a somber tone.

Shani didn't look up, she merely shrugged in response.  “Sometimes a person has ta do what they gotta do.  I come ta this world lookin' fer adventure.  I ended up doin' somethin' thet needed bein' done.  Now it's time ta move on.”

Walker pushed himself off the door frame and walked into the room and took a look around as he spoke.  “Guess that's true 'nough.  At least ya helped put people's minds at ease.  Been a while since a man could walk down the streets o' this town an' see people smilin' without getting' that feelin' o' dread.”  He stood beside Shani, and even though his six foot seven frame towered above the elven gunslinger, he looked upon her as though she were ten feet tall.  “Gonna be hard ta find a new Sheriff.”

She moved to face the old gun hand fully, and looked up into his eyes with a smile.  Shani still held onto the silver star with delicate fingers, and for a brief moment, looked to it before reaching up and gently placed it on Walker's lapel.  “No,” she said in a quiet voice that held a small smile.  “No, it ain't gonna be too hard ta find a new sheriff.”

*****

Shreveport, Louisiana, September 22, 1863

Armed guards circled the small camp that was set up just outside the small city of Shreveport.  In recent years, it had come to this.  Renegades from the north and sympathizers from the south had begun raiding slave traders, and freeing slaves.  Owners who were putting slaves up for auction had the most to lose, as they had time and money invested in these slave auctions.

To Ezekiel Morgan, the politics didn't matter.  He just waited things out, going from one master to another.  He hoped, in time, that he might see some of these people who would free him or any of those he was caged with.  Born in captivity, he did not know what freedom was.  But he'd heard the stories.  Perhaps one day, he might actually taste his own freedom.

He looked up as one delicately dressed man wandered through the camp.  Behind him there was a small group that followed him, including a woman.  A black woman, dressed in the oddest of clothes.  The dress looked to be made of the finest silk, and coloured with all the colours of the rainbow; she wore a cloak and hood that hid her face, but still her eyes seemed to study each person carefully  She looked very fine, and very well kept.  Maybe this slaver actually treated his slave better than some others, but he soon pushed that from his mind as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.  He got a bad feeling from this woman.  He wasn't sure what it was, but he only knew, she could not be trusted.

That justice is the one thing you should always find
You got to saddle up your boys, you got to draw a hard line
When the gun smoke settles we'll sing a victory tune
And we'll all meet back at the local saloon
We'll raise up our glasses against Evil forces singing
Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses

lyrics from Whiskey for My Men, Beer for My Horses as performed by Toby Keith and Willie Nelson

[Black Bowman]

[[Shani and Pania finally arrive in Shreveport, and the lithe gunslinger that is Shani must make a hard choice...]]

Death on the Bayou

Part One

Shreveport, Louisiana, September 23, 1863

Pania removed her duster and wiped her brow.  Not only was it hot, but humid; unseasonable hot and humid.  Never before had she felt such conditions.  The heat and humidity felt like a huge weight that bared down on her.  Shani felt it too, as both gunslingers looked tired in the saddle.  Even their horses loped along slowly.  That didn't stop them, however, as off in the distance they could see their goal.  Shreveport.  Here was where Pania had wanted to come, help with whatever was needed in the Underground Railroad.

“Goddamn,” Shani huffed as she tried to breath through the thick and cloying air.  “Ain't never felt nuthin' like this b'fore.”  She pulled on the reins and brought her mount to a halt as she looked toward the town sight.  “Gonna need a bath when we git inta town.”

“There's gotta be a place ta rest b'fore we start lookin' fer them wha' run the railroad,” Pania suggested in a tired voice.

“Jist keep thet talk 'bout the railroad quiet, 'right,” Shani offered her advice.  “We don't need no gun play when the air's so hot it'd make a Junebug fry on a sidewalk as it's walkin'.” Pania chuckled lightly with Shani's simple wisdom, but she was right.  It wasn't as though they could walk door to door and ask.  Both elves coaxed their horses forward toward the town.  They took note of the small camp that lay on the outskirts of Shreveport, saw the armed guards.  “Wonner what's goin' on?” Shani mused.

“Slave auction,” Pania replied under her breath.  She could see the slaves, lined up like cattle in the camp.  Rich dandies walked through the camp, inspecting possible purchases for later in the day.  She had only heard stories of the auctions, and now seeing one up close, she grew just that much more disgusted with the human race.  “I still dunna know how one man can claim ownership o'er 'nother man, an' sell 'im like 'e were cattle.”

“The obvious reason's starin' ya in the face,” Shani suggested as she lit a cigarillo.  “Y'all don't gotta go no further 'n the colour o' their skin.”  Again, Shani was right.  The rich, white slavers that held court to decide the fate of the dark skinned workers.  To the Confederates, this was just another day.  But to a pair of elves who had only heard about such activities, it was just another nail in the coffin of the human race.

Pania motioned to Shani as they entered the town limits, pointing out the different sights to be seen.  Citizens busied themselves with their days work, almost ignoring the small camp.  The sight had become a normal one on auction day.  For the elves, it wasn't so much the camp that filled their minds, but a place to rest, and Pania saw a rather comforting looking boarding house.  They brought their horses to a halt and tied them off on the hitching posts, lazily entering the establishment.  Pania held her duster over one arm while carrying in her satchel, Shani did the same, making sure that her most precious possessions were close at hand.  Shani would let Pania talk to the owner, maybe they could get a decent room, a decent bath and a hot meal.

“There looks ta be a good place there,” Pania pointed out a clean looking boarding house.  “Need ta get a good 'ot bath.”  The establishment was one of common appearance in Shreveport, with it's elegant décor and obvious southern charms.  Much like the people that seemed to frequent it.

“While yer doin' thet,” Shani called out as Pania opened the door to the establishment.  “I'm gonna scout out, see what I kin find 'round here 'bout information on the auctions an such.  Give a listen in there, maybe some loose lips.”  Pania nodded as Shani tipped her hat and rode off.  The pale elf stretched as she worked out the kinks in her back.  She'd been riding in the saddle for too long a time, and had grown stiff.  Yes, a good hot bath would be in order.

*****

Shani brought her horse to a slow stop as she neared the gathered crowd.  Their attention was riveted to the main stage as the auctioneer called out.  She furrowed her brow as she saw men and women paraded onto the stage, and prices called out.  Men in the crowd placed bids quickly as each lot was brought onto the stage.  Shani became sickened by what she saw, but knew there was no way to stop it without getting gunned down in the streets.  It was time to play things cool and just watch.

Shani gained a feel for the crowd as she watched, and saw the looks on the slaves as they were paraded up on the stage.  And then she realized, she still had a large sum of the money from the job in Harrisburg.  “Maybe one wrong kin make a right,” she muttered under her breath.  “Use some o' this here money ta buy somebody's freedom.”  The prices that were finalized were high, but not enough to make a significant dent in the amount she had.  She looked through her money belt and found a cool one thousand tucked away.  Her favourite saddle bag held the rest of her earnings.

“Ma'am,” a voice called out.  Shani looked up and studied the man who approached her.  She didn't even realize she hadn't dismounted from her horse yet, her mind was too full of ideas.  “Ya look like yer contemplatin' a look over the merchandise.”

She struggled with keeping a civil tongue, knowing full well the word merchandise referred to other human beings.  “Been thinkin' 'bout it a might, I wager,” she replied.

“Well ma'am,” the man said as he approached her.  “If you'll dismount, one o' the boys can take care o' yer horse an' I'll register ya with a ticket.”  He took out a clip board and pencil as he watched her dismount.  He got a strange feeling from Shani, she didn't look like the type to be owning slaves one bit.  “Mind if I ask yer interest in this auction, ma'am.  Haveta know, just ta be certain.  There's a lotta agitators that would like nothin' more 'n ta strip down a way o' life we built up.”

“Well, I'd say thet there is mighty polite o' ya,” she said with a smile after she let the workers take away her horse.  “Been range ridin' fer a spell, figger it's time ta settle down.  Get a piece o' my own, so ta speak.”

“Puttin' the cart b'fore the horse, ain't ya ma'am?” he replied with a small snort of laughter.  “Usually plantation owners buy land first, then worker stock.”

“Some workers have a good eye fer land,” she replied.  “Be nice ta know I ain't buyin' somethin' thet'll be done in two years.  I got a lotta time invested, an' I'm lookin' fer one ta help me an' mine out.”  She took the clipboard and wrote down her name as she spoke.  “I'm here with a partner o' mine, Pania's her name.”

The man nodded, confirming that Shani's bull story had done the trick.  The bigger the lie, as it were.  “I understand completely, ma'am.  I take it you two have husbands.”

“Hell no,” Shani replied with a smirk, trying to hold back some laughter as she had an image float through her mind of Pania in a wedding dress getting married to some southern gentleman.  No chance that would ever happen.  “But ya never know what'll happen in the future.”

“True 'nough, ma'am,” the man said with a smile and tipped his hat.  Shani walked into the throng of people that watched the stage.  She'd already seen quite a few of the slaves that had come and gone.  She just wanted one, didn't matter.  One to free.  Her good deed, so to speak.  She watched the others as they bid, studying how much the offer was, watching their facial expressions.  In a way, even though she had the noblest of intentions, she felt extremely dirty.

The bidding continued as each was brought to the front.  Shani found herself standing beside a rather well dressed man, a dandy as it were.  He held himself with an air of importance.  She then looked to the stage, and saw the latest brought on the block.  The auctioneer gave no name, just a lot number.  But Shani could see a dark skinned human, and looked upon the man with different eyes than the rest that stood here.  He looked incredibly healthy for a slave; a strong build, tall with a humble expression.  The man looked almost timidly around him, but his eyes never look directly at any one man in the area.  Shani could sense something from this man, and in that moment she became disgusted with the display she had willingly taken part in.

“Bidding will start at 15 dollars,” the auctioneer called out.  Immediately, the dandy called out with his bid, opening the session.  She knew he always backed off around one hundred dollars as she had studied his bidding before.  Another called out, raising bid to twenty.  When the bid hit thirty, Shani made a call.

“One hunnerd!” she called out, and looked right at the dandy.  He was watching her with a smile, and Shani became surprised as he raised his own hand.

“One hundred an' twenty.”

The bid surprised her.  He never went above one hundred as far as she saw.  But the bidding continued.  Shani didn't know if this man was a caring slaver or not, but she didn't care.  She knew that if she won, she had the best chance to give the man his freedom.  It was a far cry from how she would usually do such a thing, busting into a place with guns blazing or steel slashing.

“One thousand!” she called out to the shock of the audience.  There was silence as the crowd stared at Shani.  Even the dandy was looking at her with a grin on his face.  The auctioneer called out for other bids.  As none came, the gavel came down, and the lot was completed.  With one shocking announcement, Shani had just purchased a human being.  The realization finally sunk in.  Oh lord, she muttered to herself.  What have I jist done?

[Black Bowman]

Part Two

Ezekiel Morgan followed obediently behind one of the slavers as he was taken out of the paddock.  He'd seen this before, slaves taken from one owner to another.  This was his time now.  Ezekiel prayed at least that maybe this master would be kind and understanding.  Perhaps, maybe even grant him his freedom.  He kept his head low, eyes looking to the ground, knowing exactly when to stop and exactly when to start walking.  He listened as the slavers talked but didn't really register what they said.  He didn't really look up until he heard the voice of the one who had paid for him.

“Thank ya kindly, boys,” he heard her say.  A woman.  He'd never heard of a woman owning property before.  His eyes drifted up for a brief moment, taking in the lean figure that stood before him.  He saw the pair of long barrels slung low on her hips, a pair of short swords tucked neatly into scabbards that rested near the holsters.  A gunslinger.  He'd been bought by a gunslinger.  What would a gunslinger possibly want with a slave?  “Son,” he heard her say again.  “Y'all kin look up, son.”  Ezekiel's head slowly looked up to take in the woman before him.  She was shorter than he was by at least a foot and a half, and skin whiter than any white man he'd seen.  True white in colour.  And her ears, her pointed ears.

“Yes'm,” he said as he looked up, nodding respectfully.

“Name's Shani,” she replied.  That alone took him aback, never before had his owner introduced him or herself to him before.  “Ya gots a name, son?”

“Y-yes'm,” he replied with a hesitant nod.  “Ezekiel, ma'am.”  His timber remained respectful and timid, as he'd learned from previous owners.  Any sign of confidence was usually beaten out of most slaves.

Shani nodded with approval and turned to the guards.  “Y'all gots the key ta his shackles?”  The guards stared at her for a moment in disbelief.  Shani huffed and rolled her eyes as she continued.  “If I wanted a puppy ta lead 'round on a leash I'da bought a dog.”  The guards muttered as they finally handed Shani the key to the shackles, and watched as the pale elf began unlocking the chains around Ezekiel's hands and feet.

“Miss,” one of the guards cautioned as he stared at Ezekiel.  “He could bolt an' run.”

Shani stood up and tossed the shackles to the ground and looked Ezekiel in the eye.  “Ya ain't gonna run from me, are ya, Zeke?”  The tall black man shook his head slowly.  He didn't know what to make of this woman, and decided if he did run, she could easily gun him down.  “There, see?” she said as she looked back to the guards.  “'Sides, I don't need no personal servant draggin' b'hind me all chained up.  C'mon, son.  Let's go.”

Ezekiel followed her dutifully, keeping his head bent low and eyes on the ground.  His mind raced as he tried to figure this woman.  That detective work would have to continue later, as he heard another voice call out to his new Mistress.

“I congratulate you, Madam,” the very debonair voice stated as he approached with his entourage, the dandy that he had seen before.  Along with the woman.  The woman that made him feel uneasy.  “I had hoped to add a strong back to my work force, but it would appear that t'day was not that day.”

“I reckon so,” Shani replied with a nod.  She didn't smile, but remained cool as the dandy approached.  “I needed somebody ta help out with a few things, an' a strong back's what I need.  I can't lift ev'rythin'.”

The dandy extended his hand in an offer of greeting.  “Allow me ta introduce myself.  I am Jeremiah Kingston.  The Third.  It is a pleasure to meet such a lady as yerself.”  He smiled to her with a slight bow as he introduced himself, his well trimmed mustache and goatee matching his demeanor.
   
smirked and nodded as she shook the man's hand.  “Shani Wennemein,” she said slowly, allowing him to believe that she had a slow, Texas drawl.  “The first.”  Ezekiel kept his head low but managed to shift his eyes back and forth between the two of them.  He already was beginning to piece together some of Shani's body language.  He could tell she really didn't like this man.  Rightly so, he also gave Ezekiel a very odd feeling.

“If I may be so bold,” Jeremiah continued after the short introduction.  “But it is often an honour ta meet a lady such as yaself.  It would be most pleasant if ya might join me at my plantation for dinner.”  His smile was ever present, making Shani believe that it actually might really be a fake.

“I would haveta say thet is most kind o' ya, Mr. Kingston,” she said with a nod.  “Gotta mention I am gonna bring 'long my partner.  Pania's 'er name.”

“Well then,” Jeremiah let draw out as his eyes seemed to brighten at the prospect of not one, but two women that he could entertain.  “I will look forward ta seein' ya both.  And please, do bring your manservant.  He is most welcome ta join us as well.  I will send a carriage ta your quarters around six this evenin'.  If you will just give me the name of the hotel you are stayin' at, then I can make certain a carriage comes by to pick you up at the appointed time.”  He bowed to her as his smile grew just a bit as Shani wrote down the name of the hotel, and then he moved off, followed closely by his entourage.

When he was completely out of ear shot, Shani turned to Ezekiel.  “I sure as hell don't trust thet bastard.”  This comment, combined with the fact that she confided in him, surprised him even more.  No one had ever done that before.  Ever.  “C'mon,” she said as she began to move down the street.  “Need ta git cleaned up an' then all three o' us needa git gussied up.  Y'all kin meet Pania, too.”  Even with the few surprising events in the last few minutes, he obediently followed her down the street.  These events would be nothing compared to what was to come.

*****

Pania sat back in the warm water, eyes closed as she hummed quietly to herself.  Finally, she had a decent bath.  After several days of running creek water through her hair, she would be able to soak and get some of the stench of the trail out of her skin.  This was something that she'd been waiting for over the course of their ride from Oxford to Shreveport.  They didn't stay for very long in one place, so it made it difficult to get a decent bath.  Now she had the opportunity to actually sit and soak in a nice warm bath.

The boarding house was very high class.  The few thousand they had accumulated from previous jobs afforded them some ability to pass themselves off as higher than their class.  Even on Earth, flash enough cash and it would get you places.  She sighed deeply as she relaxed.  All was perfect with the world.  Even the sounds that filtered in through the window; the tromping of booted feet down the hall, the laughter from the patrons of the establishment, the shouts from outside as people called to each other; all of it seemed relaxing.

She even enjoyed the reception she received, as each person took to calling her Mademoiselle, to which she would nod her head in thanks and repeated the greeting.  It felt very high class here.

The sound of light boots and the familiar ching of spurs signaled that Shani had returned.  Pania smiled, maybe if she remained in the tub, Shani might be tempted in some way shape or form.  The door opened as Pania continued to hum to her self.

“Damn, it is hot out there,” Shani called out as she moved through the three room apartment they had rented.  A decent sized place for such a boarding house.  Another example of its high class nature.  Pania heard the shuffling around of feet.  And then she heard something else.

“Oh my Lawd!”  The voice was most definitely male.  “I am so sorry, Miss.  I did not mean ta ...”  Pania opened her eyes, which grew to the size of saucers when she saw the tall black man standing with his back to her, a hand covering his face.  “I am so sorry, Miss.”

“Shani!” Pania called out quickly as she rose to her feet and quickly grabbed a towel.  The elven gunslinger walked back into the room as she heard the commotion, somewhat confused by what she was hearing.

It became all too clear when she became enlightened of the situation.

“Oh fer cryin' out loud!” she said with a sigh.  “Pania, put some dang clothes on.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Pania huffed, her voice holding a mocking tone.  “I didna know we were gonna 'ave comp'ny comin' o'er.”  She wrapped the towel around her, gazing over at the black man every so often, then motioned Shani over as the shock of being seen in all her glory had finally passed.  “Who's tha'?”

“His name's Ezekiel,” Shani explained.  “I call i'm Zeke.  Seem fittin' 'nough.”

“Mhmm,” Pania said with a nod as her eyes continued to gaze over the man's form.  “Now.  Please explain why there's a very, very black man in the room.  An' dunna try an' say ye met an ol' friend on the street.  I know 'ow blacks 're treated 'ere.”  Her eyes moved to Shani as she waited for the explanation.

Shani sighed slightly, knowing that no excuse would be good enough for the elven bard.  “I ... I bought 'im,” she finally said in a quiet voice.  Pania's only response was a blank stare, only broken up by the odd blink from time to time.

Pania opened her mouth two or three times as she tried to find the words.  Her mind tried to process what she had just been told.  Naturally, it was the only logical answer, but she still couldn't believe what she had just been told.  “Ye... bough' 'im?” she finally said with a voice filled with shock.  “With money?”

“Yeah, money,” Shani shot back.  “I figger one way ta actually free a slave may very well be ta buy 'em.”  Shani rolled her shoulders as though she struck a small victory with her comment.  Ezekiel heard the words, and realization sunk in.  This woman did plan on saving him.  Maybe not him per se, but she purchased him, and she wanted to free him.

“An'... wha' 'xactly were the plan?” Pania finally managed as she was able to produce a full sentence with less shock in her voice.  “Buy a slave, ride up ta 'Arrisburg, knock o'er a bank, ride back 'ere, buy a few more...”

“Hell, no,” Shani replied with a grim tone.  “It were impulse.  I jist... I couldn't jist stan' there an' watch.”  She took a deep breath as she waited for Pania to continue her tirade.  But the elven bard's attention had focused on Ezekiel again.  “Zeke,” she called out to the black man.  “'S'alright, she ain't all nekked no more, ya kin turn 'round.”  Ezekiel did as he was told, keeping his head bowed low and eyes to the floor.

Pania moved forward, her anger toward Shani, the shock of being exposed in front of a complete stranger, was all but gone.  “Ye dunna 'aveta look ta the ground, ye know lad,” she said softly.  “I were a bit s'prised, an' no' angry.”  She smirked as she looked to the elven gunslinger behind her for a moment.  “'Least no' at ye, lad.”

Shani sighed and shook her head in reply before changing the subject.  “We got other problems ta think 'bout anyways,” she stated quickly.  “We been invited ta a fancy dinner by a Jeremiah Kingston.  The Third.”

“The Third?” Pania repeated with a chuckle.  “Sounds important, aye.”

“I bet he thinks he is,” Shani replied with a smirk.  “Anyways, coach is gonna come pick us up at six.  We needa git us some fancy clothes an' git ourselves all purtied up fer t'night.”  Her eyes moved over to Ezekiel and then to the bath tub.  “But first, we needa git cleaned up.”

*****

Ezekiel stood straight while he inspected the fine suit he wore.  He never had clothes like these, and it made him feel important.  The fine, black material of the slacks and suit jacket.  A soft cotton shirt that felt light on his skin.  Even the black dress shoes, though they did pinch a bit, but he wore them, never having had such articles before.  Both Shani and Pania were off in other rooms dressing for the evening.  Ezekiel still had a difficult time getting past the image of the white hair elf from his mind.  It was their first meeting, and he often did not see people naked when being introduced.  One thing was certain with these two, they were different, and they treated him differently.  While they shopped for clothes, they took him along, asked his opinion, wanted to know if he liked the clothes they picked out.  Granted, it was done in hushed tones, but still, they asked his opinion as though they treated him as an equal.

His thoughts came back to the present as the door to one of the spare rooms opened and Shani walked in.  She wore smart looking slacks and matching vest that covered a fine silk shirt.  The pale elf slipped on a matching bolero jacket and topped off the wardrobe with a brand new stetson.  Her new boots seemed slick and the spurs gave a sharper ching as she walked.  Even the gunbelt was new and pristine looking, holding her trusted long barrels with care.  Under the vest, she wore a shoulder harness that held each short sword in comfortable scabbards and neatly tucked away from sight.  Ezekiel smiled as she stood in the middle of the room, as though modeling the latest fashion.  Shani dressed up quite well, making the Tom Boy look come out that much more for her.  Had it not been for the fact that her long hair and feminine features gave away her gender, she could have been mistaken for a man.

"Ya look right nice, Miss Shani," Ezekiel said with a genuine smile.  His opinion was honest, it wasn't a forced thought that came out to satisfy an owner.  Shani did look very nice indeed.

"Well, thank ya, Zeke," Shani replied with a grin.  She had begun taking to calling him Zeke, finding the name quicker to use and easier to say.  "How ya find them clothes?"

"They fit right good, Miss Shani," he said with a nod.  There was some hesitation before he continued, however.  He knew there would be no reprisal for his comment, but he had grown up not wanting to voice discomfort in front of white folks.  "Shoes're a bit tight."

"Well, couldn't find nuthin' in yer size," Shani replied with a sigh as she fixed up the bow tie for him.  "Jist keep up 'ppearances 'til we git done dinner 'n then we kin find ya a decent pair o' soft shoes."  She picked up a smart looking black cap that sat on a nightstand and handed it to Ezekiel.  He took it carefully and gently placed it on his head, adjusting it so it felt comfortable.  The pale elf smiled and nodded her approval.  "I figger we gonna come off lookin' like a right respect'ble group o' upper class society at Kingston's lil swore-ay."  She looked back to one of the doors that lead to another spare room.  "How y'all comin' in there, Panny?"

"I'm comin'," a muffled voice said from behind the door.  "Jus' gimme 'nother minute."

Shani rolled her eyes and shook her head as she muttered in a low voice next to Ezekiel.  "Fer swingin' fer the other team, she sure are a girly girl."

"I 'eard tha'," a louder, but still muffled voice called out from behind the door.  There was some shuffling around and several moments passed.  Finally the door opened, and Pania stepped out.  Both Shani and Ezekiel were silent for a good long while as they took in the vision that Pania had become.  Her dress was maroon with gold trimming along the ruffles of the skirt, at the waist line and about the neckline.  Pania wore long evening gloves and displayed a gold ring on her left hand.  A gold flower nestled on her bosom, as gold trim went up to the shoulders.  With her left hand, she held lightly onto a matching umbrella.  Pania had transformed into an upstanding southern belle.

Ezekiel smiled as he nodded.  "You... ya look real nice, Miss Pania."  The elven bard grinned as she curtsied.  She could tell the tall, black man's comment was genuine.  Just something in his eyes let her know.

"Yeah," Shani added with a slight smirk.  "Y'all purty up but good, girly-girl."  The elven gunslinger snickered as Pania scowled mockingly at her.  The seeming playful nature between the two elves made Ezekiel smile.  It had been a long time since he had felt like this.  It felt good.  The sound of a carriage coming to a stop could be heard through the open window, and Shani moved to get a clear view of the street below.  "Looks like our carriage has 'rrived."  She looked back to her companions, smiling a sly smile.  "We went all out an' gussied up, now it's time ta play the part.  Like I done said b'fore, I don't trust this Kingston 'far as I kin throw 'im, so be on yer guard."

[Black Bowman]

Part Three

"Jeb, be a good boy an' fetch my cane if you would," Kingston said in a calm and cool voice that held the air of sophistication.  "We are entertaining two fine ladies, so I must make certain my attire is appropriate."  He smiled to the small black boy and waved him off to carry out his duty.  Kingston fussed a bit in the mirror as one of his body guards stood by near the window.  Kingston looked over to him somewhat curiously.  "Is there any sign of the carriage?"

"Not yet, Sir," the guard replied as he adjusted the cuffs on his jacket.  Dressed in finery, the man looked like one to be more at home on the range than working as a guard on a plantation.  The hired gun looked back to the window as the small boy ran back in with Kingston's cane.

"Why thank you, Jeb," Kingston replied with an overly genuine smile.  Why don't you go downstairs an' ask Miss Mabel for some corn bread, hmmm."  The boy smiled and Kingston saw the question that seemed to hang in the boy's eyes.  "An' yes, you may ask for some fine Swiss cheese to go with that."  The boy ran off excitedly as Kingston waved him off yet again.  "Make certain ta inform Marcus that we'll be lockin' the gates once the carriage arrives."

"Sir?" the gun hand inquired as he looked back to Kingston.

"This Miss Wennemein spent a great deal of money on that slave," Kingston said as he tucked the cane under one arm.  "That means he is worth a great deal, and is someone to be added to the stable."  The gun hand nodded and quickly stepped out of the room as Kingston slipped into his evening gloves.

"You must be careful, Mahstah Kingston," the deep, seductive voice of the black woman said from the shadows.  Kingston turned to look in her direction as he arched an eyebrow.

"An' why would you say that, Isabella?" he asked, punctuating the question with a thud of his cane on the hard wood floor.

"That woman was a gunslingah," Isabella commented.  "She is powerful.  Ah can feel it in me bones."

"Well," Kingston replied with a sly smile.  "If that is the case, then we will most assuredly have to call upon your talents, my dear.  For how many people in this world have ever had ta deal with the walkin' dead b'fore?"

*****

The carriage came to a slow stop at the front gates of the plantation.  Ezekiel hopped off the back of the carriage and moved to the door, opening it with ease.  Shani took her first steps out onto the pristine racked path that lead to the mansion that lay before them.  She took in the area with a gunslinger's eye, taking note of the hiding spots that snipers could hold themselves up in; from the fountain in the middle of the well cared for courtyard to the upper balcony of the mansion.  Once satisfied, she turned her attention back to the carriage and assisted Ezekiel as Pania climbed down to the ground.  The elven bard moved slowly as she climbed down, making certain her dress didn't become snagged on the carriage at all, or fall face first as she struggled just a bit.  Ezekiel quickly came to her assistance.

"Well then," Pania said with a sigh as she looked around the grounds.  "Fine lookin' place, isna it?"

"Fine 'nough," Shani replied as she once again turned her attention back to the grounds and tried to determine where attackers might lay.  "If ya don't mind livin' in a bunker."  The three began walking toward the front steps of the mansion, both elves taking in the beauty of the place.  Shani, though, could not help but feel a sense of foreboding as they walked past the marble of the Roman columns.  Then there was that tug on her arm.

She looked to her left and found Pania smiling as she stood beside the elven gunslinger, arm neatly tucked into Shani's.  "Um... what're ya doin'?"

"A lady needs an escort, ye know," Pania replied with a grin.

"I'm fine," Shani stated with a nod.  "Really, I don't need no escort."  Pania furrowed her brow and let out a harrumph.  No time to argue, however, as Ezekiel approached the door and knocked loudly to announce their presence.  Shani had her mind on other details.  "Got a Colt slung on my side in a shoulder holster an' two short blades jist in case.  You packin'?" she asked of Pania.

"I've go' one o' me pistols tucked 'way in a garter," Pania replied with a sly smile.  "Wanna see?" she asked with a grin as she looked to Shani.  Pania's arm was still tucked into the elven gunslingers, and Shani's only response was to roll her eyes and sigh.  Any further banter between the two elves was brought to a quick halt as the massive double doors, made of only the finest oak no doubt, were being opened.

A rather sophisticated looking manservant bowed to the trio and quietly bid them enter.  The lobby of the mansion was incredible.  Two stair cases that hugged the wall while seeming to embrace the room with warmth.  An elegant chandelier hung with care from the tall ceiling.  Paintings were displayed, obviously announcing the former owners of this plantation, which gave a hint as to the long lineage that Kingston came from in the Americas.

The three stood in the lobby and marveled at the sight.  Pania gazed with wide eyed wonder, while Shani took a much more skeptical view of the place.  Ezekiel too gazed about the room, but his eyes drifted back to a spot on the floor, making certain to keep himself unnoticed in his position behind the two elves.

"Well, well," announced the broad smiling voice of Jeremiah Kingston as he sauntered into the lobby.  "What a sight indeed.  Two fine lookin' ladies.  Allow me ta introduce myself, I am Jeremiah Kingston, the Third," his smile seemed to grow as he held out his hand to each lady.

"Pania Alow, if ye please," the elven bard said as she took his hand and curtsied with a coy smile.  Kingston seemed to chuckle as his eyes drifted across Pania's curvy form.

"I do b'lieve we've already met," Shani said as she removed her stetson, but shook Kingston's hand as a matter of formality.

"Yes indeed, we have," Kingston replied.  His eyes fell on the figure of Ezekiel and his smile again grew just a bit more.  "I am so pleased to see that you have brought your manservant with you.  I believe that if we associate from such lower class people, perhaps they can become educated in the ways of higher society.  I am all for equality, but a person needs ta know their place first b'fore they can ascend."

"In'erestin' philosophy," Shani said with a slight smirk.  Gods he's such a racist bastard, she thought in almost the same breath.

"I do b'lieve we can discuss more o' this over dinner," he said as he held out a hand to usher the pair toward the dining room.  As they walked, Pania wondered if the dining room was just as immaculate as the lobby of this rather palatial mansion.

*****

Shani dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and waited for the dessert to be brought around.  It was an excellent meal, and seemed full of flavour.  Kingston even surprised both elves as he allowed Ezekiel to sit at the table with them and partake of the meal.  Although while his explanation did make some sense, it still seemed rather odd to see.  His philosophy was simply just because they are slaves does not mean that they should not be well fed.  Shani remained quiet for most of the meal, letting the conversation flow between Kingston and Pania.  The elven gunslinger could see the look in Kingston's eyes and smirked as he continuously looked over Pania.  If only you knew, was her only thought.

Dessert was brought to the table and the conversation continued, but Shani had a very wandering spirit, and the conversation began to bore her.  When there was a lull in the discussion of the slave trade, she finally spoke up.

“As innerstin' as this is,” Shani said politely with a soft smile.  “I have a small need ta freshen up.  Ya know, powder my nose, as it were.”  She rose to her feet with a small nod to Kingston.  “An' ifn y'all don't mind, I'm gonna take Zeke here with me.”  She looked over to Ezekiel and nodded.  The tall, black man rose to his feet attentively.

“If ya must, then I will not stop you, Miss Wennemein,” Kingston replied with that oh so patented smile.  “Allow one o' my servants ta direct ya both ta the proper quarters.”  Kingston snapped his fingers and one of the several servants stepped forward.  Dressed quite fine, the man bowed and moved to Shani.  Again he bowed and wordlessly motioned for them to follow.  There was just one thing that bothered Shani about these servants.  While they wore rather fine clothes, each one also wore a hood, hiding their face.  When the question was brought up, Kingston explained that it was a family custom that dated back to the days in England, when servants would hide their faces while in the company of lord's household.

Shani thought on that for a moment as they walked.  When they finally were out of earshot from the dining room, she spoke.  “Sorry 'bout draggin' ya from dessert, Zeke.  I jist wanna make sure yer fine.”

“Wha' 'bou' Miss Pania?” he asked with some worry in his voice.

“Panny kin take care o' 'erself,” she replied with a low voice.  “'Sides, I ain't worried 'bout Kingston tryin' ta woo 'er inta steppin' inta his bed.  She's as gay as the day is long.”  She caught the confused look in Ezekiel's eyes and explained further.  “She's more innersted in my backside then his.”  He nodded, satisfied with the translation, though found it rather disturbing to say the least, having meeting a woman for the first time that only had interest in other women.

As they walked down the long hallway, Shani took note of the man servant sent to escort them.  He shambled along slowly, as though hobbled.  She doubted he could actually run, and for a moment she wondered if Kingston would be so low as to severe the tendons in their ankles.  “Quite a nice place here,” she said back to the man servant as she motioned to the paintings that hung from the walls with care.  The man servant did not respond, which perplexed Shani.  Slaves would often respond quickly and politely, she had learned.  Perhaps it was just Kingston's servants that remained quiet when spoken too.  But something and this man told Shani otherwise.  The movements of the man didn't add up.

She moved quickly, reaching out to the man servant and grabbing his hood, ripping it off with ease.  The man servant did not respond, but Shani reeled back, one hand pushing back Ezekiel, the other reaching for one of her Colts.

“Miss Shani, wha's wrong?” he said quickly as he remained behind the elven gunslinger.

“Ev'rythin', Zeke,” she hissed in return as she stared at the man servant, taking note of the flesh that seemed to hang from his face, the vacuous eyes and the stringy hair.  “I knew dang well thet Kingston weren't up ta no good.  But one things clear now, I know a goddamned zombie when I see one.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Four

“I mus' say, this were such a lovely dinner, Mr. Kingston,” Pania stated with a gentle smile.  “So glad we could come ta see ye place an' share in some int'restin' conversation.”

Kingston smiled as he picked up a wine glass and lifted it in toast.  “Mi casa es su casa, as they say,” he replied before taking a sip of his wine.  “I am just very pleased that a pair of ladies such as yourselves were able to attend at my invitation.  I know that Miss Shani has a rather keen eye to go with her rugged appearance, but she can put on a lovely palette for the eyes when she needs to.  But it was my amazement when you walked through my front doors.  I had believed that the heavens themselves had opened up and let one of their finest angels descend into my good graces.”

“Oh, well now Mr. Kingston,” Pania tittered as she chuckled lightly.  Her outward appearance suggested that she was blushing from the compliment, but inside she only thought one thing.  Go blow it out ye arse.  She wasn't exactly sure how much more of such saccharine compliments she could take.  It was getting to the point where she prayed that Shani would stir up some trouble.

Her prayers were soon answered.

All conversation stopped as three distinct gun shots came from the hallway, followed by the elven gunslinger's familiar whoopin' and hollerin'.  “Panny!  Git yer ass in gear.  We are leavin'!”

Pania rose to her feet, curiosity getting the best of her as she looked to the hallway.  First Ezekiel stumbled forward, then Shani, firing back into the hallway without care of who was there.  Finally, Kingston rose to his feet, that plastic smile still pressed to his face.

“It would seem that my intentions have been revealed,” he stated as he leaned on his cane.  “I did not wish it to come ta this, but I have need ta increase my stable, as it were.  Your manservant is of notable strength an' endurance, and would complete my workforce quite well.”  As he spoke, the remaining servants slowly began to step forward.  Pania watched them carefully, not fully understanding what was going on.

“Quit gawkin' an' jist move!” Shani shouted as she grabbed Pania's arm.  The servants were drawing closer to them, but the trio bolted toward the front doors of the mansion.  Pania obediently moved, but there were still questions that filled her mind.

“Wha' in bloody 'ell is goin' on?” she seemed to scream back at the elven gunslinger.

“You got yer guns?”

“Aye, I do...” she replied, but Shani cut her off quickly.

“Good, 'cause ya needa pull them irons an' start shootin',” she explained as she reloaded her Colt then pulled her second one and handed it to Ezekiel.  “I hope y'all know how ta use this.”

“I... I'm okay with it,” Ezekiel nodded quickly as he took the pistol carefully.

“Would someone please explain wha's goin' on!” Pania again screamed.  Her confusion became more so when Shani pulled a short sword and proceeded to cut a slit into her gown, revealing not only her curvy leg, but also the pistol that was neatly packed into the leather garter belt around her thigh.  “Well now.  Ye surprise me all the time, Shani,” she said with a sly smile.

“Would ya git yer mind outta the gutter,” Shani scoffed as she began herding the pair through the doors.  No explanation came from Shani's lips, but one didn't need to come as they burst through the front doors.  Pania saw it all, there had to be one hundred of them.  Zombies, all of them.  The walking undead.

“Well then,” Pania said as she furrowed her brow.  “Why didna ye say so in the first place?”

*****

The three raced into the court yard only to find themselves surrounded.  Pania's calculation had outnumbered thirty three to one; she wasn't far off as she observed the shambling husks that came toward them from the gates, the rear of the house, the interior of the house and seemingly everywhere.  It would be a tough fight to escape this hell, but the need for survival greatly outweighed the temptation to curl up and die.  All three brandished a pistol as they raced to the fountain that stood as the center piece of the court yard.  Shani kept watch as the others quickly scrambled on the statue, desperately seeking some higher ground.  As her companions climbed, she fired careful shots into the crowd of zombies that slowly lurched forward.  They would have to be careful with their bullets, as they might very well run out before it was safe to bolt.  When Shani was assured that the other two were safe, she joined them quickly.  The three pushed their backs to the statue, a free hand ensuring that they would not fall.

Pania's shots were well trained, even though they were virtually ineffective.  Ezekiel, however, fired more out of fear than anything else.  Deep inside he felt that this would be his last night on Earth.  The bullets hit the zombies squarely, but they did not repel the undead crowd.  They needed something bigger.

Something much more powerful than a mere pistol.

“Panny,” Shani cried out over the din of grunts and growls that surrounded them.

“Aye?” Pania called back through heavy breaths of worry and fear.

“'Memmer what I said in Oxford,” Shani stated as she tried to jar the elven bard's memory.  “The part 'bout not usin' magic?”

“Aye,” Pania replied, a smile forming on her face as she could tell what the next words from the elven gunslinger's lips would be.

“Fergit I said anythin' 'bout it,” Shani stated flatly.  “'Cause we need a fireball cooked up somethin' fierce.” 

Pania only smiled in response as she tossed the Smith and Wesson to Shani.  As the shambling crowd advanced, Pania began muttering her incantations, her hands became alive with flame as she weaved her fingers together, forming a larger ball.  Without warning, she hurled it into the largest group of zombies that advanced.  Most were tossed back, some burned to cinder.  All of those in the line of fire were suddenly engulfed in flames.  That still did not stop their forward movement.  But it would eventually, as the dry bodies were perfect kindling for the magical flame.  The burning bodies smelled like oily, wet rags as they burned, it was stomach wrenching, even more so when witnessing the shambling, mindless animated corpses flailed their burning arms in one last attempt to attack.

Shani kept firing into the advancing crowd, looking back to the mansion every so often.  On the main balcony, she saw her target.  Kingston had dragged his dark mistress with him.  From what Shani could gather, the woman was the central cause of this, but not of her own accord.  Rather, she was forced by Kingston.  Some how he had a hold over her, and Shani would find out what.  “Hey Kingston!” she shouted out over the echoing sounds of gunfire, magical assault and zombie shuffling.  “Nice dinner!  Hate ta run, though!”

“Oh, you will not run far, m'dear!” he called back before turning to his charge.  He held tightly to her arm and spoke in a voice filled with venom.  “That girlish one seems to have your power.  Do whatever you can to stop her.  Remember, your family's life is at stake.”   Isabella nodded timidly and began to concentrate on the pale elf in her tattered dress.

“Her powah is strong,” she said in a voice that was like a squeak.  “It not be o' this world.”  She turned quickly to look at Kingston as his hand squeezed tightly around her arm.  The look in his eyes were enough to kill, and she understood that not only was her family's life at stake, but her own as well.  She had no choice, she had to try.  As the zombie horde began climbing slowly up the fountain, she again concentrated on the pale elf.

“Bloody...” Pania shouted out as she tried casting another hellfire, but found something blocking her concentration.  “I cannu ge' 'nough power t'gether.  Somethin' keeps interuptin'.”  She quickly looked around the area to see who might be able to counter her spells, and soon she found it.  “There!” she cried as she pointed to the balcony, right toward Isabella.

Shani nodded, knowing exactly what Pania was motioning to.  “I wager so, but I dare say she ain't doin' it b'cause she want ta.  I figger Kingston's got a hold o'er her.”  She loaded her Colt and cocked back the hammer as she steeled herself.  “Time ta sway his mind.”

Kingston ducked quickly as bullets hit the marble railing of the balcony.  The gunslinger had decided he would make an excellent target.  “Fire on that bitch!” he shouted to his body guard.  “Make her bleed, but don't kill her.  I want to watch her die.  Slowly.”  The bodyguard took his rifle and fired, indescriminantly into the massive throng in the courtyard below.  He had no clue who he was firing on, as his bullets were replied in kind quickly and much more effectively than his own.

The bodyguard's head snapped back quickly, and his body slumped to the ground, a trail of blood trickling down his forehead.  “Thet's how ya shoot, ya bastard.  Maybe ya should learn how ta handle a pistol, ya yella coward!” Shani shouted from her position, hoping her words would infuriate Kingston to the point of making a fatal mistake.  “Girly girl, we need more fire power!  Keep hurlin' fireballs 'r lightin' bolts 'r whatever ya got!”

“It's no' like I've go' an endless supply!” Pania shouted back.  “I'm nearly drained o' all o' me...”  She stopped as she realized that one of her spells did something she wasn't expecting; as she raised a hand to cast another fireball, she felt a surge of power rush through her body, as though divine blessing was granted upon her.  Pania, Shani and Ezekiel only watched in amazement as a pure, white light seemed to spread forth from Pania and went outward.  With each zombie it touched, it destroyed them completely, crumbling them to piles of dust.  At the outer edge of its reach, the zombies turned in fear, shambling away from the three as they perched on the statue.

“H...how the hell ya do thet?” Shani asked in a much quieter tone.

“Um... I dunna know?” Pania only replied in a rather meek voice.  Whatever it was, it had given them a lot of space.  The danger had seemed to pass, as the zombies where either scattered in pieces or running aimlessly.  Shani just smirked as she found her senses and climbed down from her perch.  Pania and Ezekiel soon followed.  “Wha' now?”

“Don't it make sense ta go see the bastard what started this,” Shani asked with a sneer as she reloaded her Colt.  “I intend ta misbehave!”

[Black Bowman]

Part Five

Kingston dragged Isabella with some difficulty, as she struggled to get away.  While he did not often show it, Kingston had quite a formidable strength, having worked in the fields before he took over the plantation's operations.  He forced her along, snarling as he did so, dragging her down a dingy hallway toward a locked door.  Quickly and effortlessly, he threw her to the floor in front of the door as he reached into his suit jacket and produced a pistol.  “Now my dear,” he sneered as he worked the lock on the door.  “It's time that you and your family paid dearly for this failure.  I cannot abide by failure, and those who fail must pay.”  He tossed the lock to the side and cocked the hammer back on the pistol, slowly lowering it to aim at Isabella.  “You shall be first, my dear.”

Isabella flinched and shrieked as the report of a pistol sounded out.  She felt her heart stop, but only for a moment.  She looked to Kingston with fear, and then wonder, as a trail of blood red began to flow down the clean with shirt that he wore.  Without any grandeur, he fell over to the ground, the life pulled from him.

Isabella slowly turned to look away from Kingston, down the hall.  There stood Shani Wennemein at the end of the long hallway like a shadowy spectre, a smoking gun in her outstretched hand.  Behind the elven gunslinger were Pania and Ezekiel.  All three appeared to be out of breath.  Isabella shrank back as Ezekiel stepped forward.  “Please.  Please don' hurt me,” she pleaded, her voice coming out in a squeak.

“Ain't nevah plannin' on doin' such a thing, Miss'm,” Ezekiel replied in a calm voice.  “Way I see it, y'all been forced ta do things that ya never want ta do in the first place.”

“He... he foun' out,” she began to speak, telling the tale of what she had done.  “Foun' ou' wha' I could do.  Said he'd kill mah fam'ly if I did no' do as he said.”  She curled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  Ezekiel knelt beside her, as though to console her as Shani and Pania looked on.

“Wha' now?” Pania asked quietly.

The elven gunslinger twirled the pistol and holstered it as she took a deep breath and looked around.  There wasn't much life left in this place.  Kingston and his body guards were dead.  The zombies were destroyed, and those that managed to escape wouldn't last very long.  “Lets jist get the hell outta here,” Shani said with a long sigh as she looked to Pania and then to Ezekiel and Isabella.  “All o' us.”  Shani lit a cigarillo as she picked up a discarded torch.  She used the end of the cigarillo to light the torch as she walked toward the mansion.  Carefully, she started the expensive curtains on fire as she kicked over a kerosene lamp.  With the mansion slowly burning, she tossed the torch onto the pool of kerosene and walked out without looking back.

Just outside Munroe County, Indiana, October 10th, 1863

Two riders flanked the three wagons, their watchful eyes gazing over the landscape as though searching for that one thing that would bring salvation.  Every so often they would ride to each wagon ensuring that each was fine, and each time the pair that rode in the driver's seat nodded their reassurance.  Pania and Shani had to make certain, each wagon contained the most precious cargo their had ever escorted.  In total, the pair of elven gunslingers had freed sixty slaves from Kingston's plantation.  Just before they torched the grounds.  More than likely something that law men in the south would want to hang them for now.

The small train halted as Shani held up her hand to signal them.  She watched the lights of the farm yard carefully as Pania coaxed her horse beside Shani's.  “What ya figger?” Shani asked as she lit a cigarillo.  “Should we chance it?  I mean, last few places were duds, but thet ol' man back in Knoxville tol' us there'd be a place in Minnesota we could bring 'em.”

“There's only one way ta find ou',” Pania replied as she took a deep breath and pushed her horse forward.  Shani looked back to the small train and gave the signal to move forward.  In the lead wagon, Ezekiel Morgan sat with a hooded cloak to cover his features as his trained hands took control of the reins.  Isabella sat beside him, almost as if Ezekiel were trying to protect her.

As they pushed forward, Pania began to hum, and then sing, an old gospel hymn, which was used more often as a signal to the stations of the underground railroad that passengers wished to board.  “The Gospel train's comin', I hear it just at hand, I hear the car wheel rumblin', And rollin' thro' the land.”

The elven bard's voice was that of an angel, soft and pure, commanding those in earshot to listen.  As Pania sang, other voices added to the song from the wagons as they recognized the lyrics.  “Get on board little children, Get on board little children, Get on board little children, There's room for many more.”  The voices grew as they neared the small farm.  Shani could see a pair of men begin to approach on horse back and she steeled herself for the worst.  All the while the voices continued.  “I hear the train a-comin', She's comin' round the curve, She's loosened all her steam and brakes, And strainin' ev'ry nerve.”

The riders drew nearer to the wagon train, and Shani seemed to breath a sigh of relief as she saw one of the riders.  His skin as dark as midnight, his features like chiseled stone, but his eyes soft and caring.  Still the voices continued, and the riders soon joined in.  “The fare is cheap and all can go, The rich and poor are there, No second class aboard this train, No difference in the fare.”

Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell

lyrics from Oh Death as performed by Ralph Stanley

[Black Bowman]

Wild, Wild West

Part One

Monroe County, Indiana, October 12, 1863

Pania Alow set down the pails of feed by the horse trough, satisfied that the horses were tended to.  The wagon train had stopped for the night at a small ranch just inside the Monroe County border, owned by Mr. and Mrs Clarence Chesterson, ranchers sympathetic to the plight of the slaves.  The trek from Shreveport had not been without its small problems as they had to outrun bounty hunters, soldiers and even lawmen.  In many cases, the bounty hunters were after the slaves only to discover the guides were wanted outlaws.  Word spread quickly, and the small wagon train never seemed to get a break.  Once they had crossed the border into Indiana, however, much of the troubles had seemed to cease.

Pania took a deep breath and stretched her limbs as she finished the menial tasks.  It was a long journey, but they managed to make it with all former slaves alive.  Fortunately, a good number of the other men connected to the Underground Railroad were as competent with a six gun as she and Shani were, if not more so.  Pania smiled as she saw the lanky elf come around to the horse paddock.  Shani looked tired, but it was a satisfied tired.  They had done some good over the past couple of weeks.

“Well,” Pania said in a soft voice as Shani leaned against the wooden fence.  “Figure its time we moved on, don' ye think?”

“Yeah, I 'xpect so,” Shani replied as she took out a cigarillo and lit it.  “I figger we done jist as much good as we done hell raisin'.” Shani chuckled a bit as she thought of the past few months.  Each day had been an adventure; more than if she'd have gone on her own.

“Ye sound ready ta go 'ome, Shani,” Pania noted as she joined the elven gunslinger by the fence.  Shani nodded wordlessly, in a way confirming that it was time to go.  “I think bes' place fer tha' is more 'n likely ta 'ead north.  I've 'eard some thin's 'bout Lake o' the Woods from a few people here an' there.  Mostly tales from the Tribes, bu' it's worth a look.”

“It's worth a shot,” Shani said with a heavy sigh and a nod.  “Gonna seem down right borin' back on Terra-Kal, though.  People gots a tendency 'o bein' a bit more civilized.”

“It's also no' a frontier spirit back 'ome, ye know,” Pania said with a small chuckle.  The bard pushed herself off the fence and motioned for Shani to follow.  “C'mon.  I understan' tha' Mrs. Chesterton 'as made dumplin's fer t'night's supper.  She makes the best dumplin's I ever tasted.”

*****

South of St. Paul, Minnesota, The Mandrake Estate, October 13, 1863

Within the heart of the lavish mansion, the owner toiled away in an ancient looking library.  Placed where a wine cellar usually would be located, the walls were lined with bookshelves.  Old tomes, some collecting dust, rested as though they awaited their keeper to open them for some purpose.  Though, unlike any usual library, these books did not just contain historical knowledge, or mathematical figures.  They contained ancient knowledge of long past arcane wisdom.  Books of magic.

Even the older gentleman who puttered around in the library did not represent the typical owner of a lavish estate.  He was dressed in a simple robe that swept along the floor as he walked, tied at the waist with a simple gold chord, and a hood that he kept in place when not in the confines of his library.  On this day, however, he had pushed it back, allowing his long, raven hair, peppered with grey, to flow freely.  His features were those of a man who had lived a life of luxury, but his eyes had seen many strange and wonderful things.

Adding to the strangeness of the man's appearance and the room itself, were the symbols engraved into the stone that made up the floor.  Using limestone brought in from Indiana, the room became rather elegant with the ornate floor.  To the casual observer, the circular pattern would have been wonderful, but to one more knowledgeable of certain antiquities, they would realize just how sinister those symbols were.  Both the man and the room seemed as though they were both time displaced, seeming to look more comfortable in a European castle hundreds of years previous.

As the man carefully read through pages of one particular tome, The heavy oak door was pushed open.  The man looked up as a well dressed young man walked through.  He looked around the library for a moment, before his gaze settled upon one chest that had been tucked away in a corner, and he sighed openly.  The man seemed to understand the gesture and seemed to smirk as he returned to his tome.

“Good evening Patrick,” he said in an even, but polite tone.  “You may take the chest if you wish.  Everything inside belongs to you anyway.”  Patrick merely stood his ground as he stared at the man with fire in his eyes.  “Of course, I don't see why you study such things as you do, it's rather barbaric.”

“It's called biology, father,” Patrick Mandrake finally spoke up in defiance.  “It is the science of the modern world.  Not like this...” He waved his arm toward the bookshelves with a look of disgust as he tried to find the appropriate word for the small library. “...archaic ritual that seems to consume you.  And you call my study barbaric.”

The elder Mandrake glared at his son for his choice of words.  “I will not release something that has brought this family the fortune it has worked so hard to acquire.  This study will last for centuries long than your precious science.”

“Foolishness,” Patrick spat back.  His father's eyes widened, as though Patrick had just slapped him in the face.  It took everything for him to force his rage down.

“Is our...” he finally said in a quiet and even voice.  “Is our guest here?”

“The gunslinger?” Patrick replied quickly with a slight look of disgust.  “Yes, he arrived this morning.  An odd man, I might say, for a gunslinger.”

“That is none of your concern, Patrick,” he replied slowly.  “Fetch him and bring him to me.  This gunslinger and I have a great deal which we need to discuss.”  Patrick said not another word as he pivoted on his heel and walked through the open door.  As the younger Mandrake left, the door began to close again as though it had made the decision to do so consciously.  It clicked lightly as Patrick's footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond.

The elder Mandrake merely returned to his tomes, studying intently as he dreamed of the power that would become his.  His mind had become very preoccupied with such things over the past several months.  Ever since he had first heard of the two elven gunslingers.  At first, it was merely a passing interest, but that soon became something more when rumours of their activities in Franklin began to spread.  If their power was even a tenth of what had been described, then his plan would be worth the risk.

*****

Monroe County, Indiana, October 14, 1863

Pania finished loading her meager supplies onto her horse as she prepared for another long journey.  She looked over to Shani as the elven gunslinger mounted her own horse.  As usual, Shani didn't worry too much about supplies.  The only thing she seemed to care about was some dried rations, her weapons and ammo, and the money she had 'collected' over the past year.  Admittedly, Pania would have had enjoyed a moment of bliss with Shani, and a smile touched her lips as she contemplated the more than raucous adventure between the sheets they'd have.  She pushed that thought away as she mounted her own horse.  Shani had become a dear friend, more than just a play time lover would ever be.

“Whaddya figger?” Shani asked as she steered her horse to stand beside Pania's.  “Maybe 'bout a month an' we should be near the border?”

“Aye, seem like tha',” Pania replied with a nod as she settled herself into the saddle.  “'Course factorin' in stops 'long the way, it may be longer.  It'll be cold by the time we reach there.  I think it bes' ta stop in Bloomington an' pick up supplies.  B'sides, I have a friend tha' runs an establishment there I've no' seen in some time.”

Shani looked to Pania and caught that glint in her eye, and she knew all too well what the elven bard was thinking.  “Well, while yer rollin' 'round b'twixt the sheets with an' ol' lover,” she said with a small smirk.  “I kin ' 'least find m'self a decent poker game goin' on.  Ain't had a good one since we set foot in Franklin.”

As the two elves did one final check on their mounts, Shani nodded to Pania, then tipped her hat to those who had gathered to send them off.  “C'mon.  We ain't gonna git very far jist stan'in' here,” Shani stated as she urged her mount forward.  Pania wasn't far behind.  As they rode off to the north, Pania felt as though they had just completed the most exciting of adventures.  What little she knew that it was actually just another beginning.

[Black Bowman]

Part Two

The Mandrake Estate, October 14, 1863

The Elder Mandrake sat in the ornate oak chair heavily as he gazed over the pages of the ancient tome.  Across the lavish desk sat a quiet and menacing gunslinger.  His stetson was pulled down low over his eyes and a scarf covered his nose and mouth completely obscuring his features.  The heavy duster jacket he wore had seen better days, and his hands rested gently in his lap, not far from a pair of long barrel pistols that hung with care on his hips.  He realized he had need of this man, if his presence did not disturb him just a little.  There was something about the mysterious gunslinger, quiet in his demeanor, that set people on edge, and he had sensed it from his son, Patrick, as the young man brought the tall stranger into the inner sanctum of the estate.

Mandrake leaned forward in his chair and carefully flipped through the onion skin pages of the tome, his eyes never directly looking to the gunslinger.  “You haven't given me a name,” he said with some caution.  “We have discussed many things this day, but you have failed to provide some identity as to who you are.”

“The Indians say that a name is very sacred,” the gunslinger replied in a slow and gravely voice.  He never looked up at all, did not move his hand or his body as he spoke; he didn't even seem to breath.  “Knowing someone's true name means you can have control over them.  But I believe you already know that, Vladimir.”

Mandrake leaned back in his chair and studied the gunslinger carefully.  No introductions had been given at all, yet this man knew of his first name without any hesitation.  “How did you...”

“You have a reputation, my friend,” the gunslinger said in low hiss.  “Do not worry.  I have no want to take that which you control, nor use you to my own will.  The power you wield is just a tenth of that which I can command.  Besides,” he said as he finally raised his head, his eyes poking out from underneath the brim of the stetson, burning red as though filled with fire.  “You have offered me something very intriguing.”  Vladimir shifted in his chair, perhaps uneasily as the gunslinger seemed so calm around him.  Almost too calm.  “For now, you may call me by the name of the place where I first gained my power.  You may call me Shilo.”

“Shilo,” Vladimir replied with a quick nod, satisfied that he had some way to identify this man.  It might come in useful should he ever be at odds with the dark gunslinger.  “I have heard no word of your exploits on the frontier.”

“Reputation,” the gunslinger replied as his gaze shifted toward the stacks of books that sat behind Vladimir.  “I have no want for a reputation, as you mortals would see it.  Even those that you offer to me, have a reputation.  Wild hearts that are filled with power.  You have not heard of me, because I do not wish to be known.”

Vladimir saw a chance to change the subject as the gunslinger mentioned the two elves once again.  “What do you plan on doing with them once you have captured them?  Keep in mind, I am paying you to bring...”

“Do not fret,” the gunslinger interrupted as he raised a hand to silence Vladimir.  “You will receive the elves.  At least, you will receive the Black Mask.”  He chuckled slightly as he spoke the moniker used for Shani Wennemein, and that low laughter was enough to put Vladimir in an even more uneasy state.

“But I am paying you...” Vladimir began to protest, but again the gunslinger waved a dismissive hand to silence his argument.

“Keep your payment,” he stated.  “You will have the Black Mask.  All I want is the Pale Rider.  She will feed me for a long time, and sustain my power.  The Black Mask will be more than enough for your purpose, Vladimir.  There is nothing more to discuss.  Just know that in ten days I will bring you your prize.”

*****

Approaching Bloomington, Indiana, October 14, 1863

The horses moved slowly as they were guided toward the community.  It had just what Shani and Pania would need for a small lay over before the long trek north through Minnesota.  Pania smiled softly as she saw the streets in the distance, the soft light that began to show from the windows of the houses as the sun began to retreat back past the horizon.

Even Shani gave a sigh of relief, as she felt like she'd been riding full tilt since she met up with the elven bard that she was now getting used to having as her partner.  Whether it was fate or pure luck, having Pania by her side was a godsend.  Granted, she'd probably never admit it openly.

Pania sighed happily as the pair rode their horses into the main street of Bloomington.  She nodded to those who walked by and greeted them with the usual pleasantries.  Passed by shops that were just beginning to close for the day as their owners were ready to retire for the evening, and off in the distance, Pania could see a lavish looking house, not quite a mansion, but it was expensive looking.  The sign read Madam Arella Dorchester's Boarding House For Young Women, but the elven bard knew what really went on behind the closed doors.  The red velvet drapes that hung in the windows were more than an indication as to what it was.

“There 'tis,” she said with a contented smile.  “'Avena seen tha' place in a good long while.”

“Oh dang straight,” Shani replied, surprising Pania just a bit.  Shani was grinning playfully, but not in the direction of the boarding house.  Rather in the direction of a bustling saloon.  “It has been too long since I set foot in there.  Las' time I nearly lost my shirt playin' poker.”

“I be' tha' woulda been int'restin',” Pania commented with a coy smile.  Shani finally looked over to Pania, slowly putting two and two together as she furrowed her brow.  “Jus' imaginin', luv,” Pania said somewhat defensively, then chuckled lightly having placed Shani in such an awkward spot yet again.  “Truth be tol' I'd 'ang ye 'at down with the girls at the boardin' 'ouse.  Soft bed, wonderful food.  An' b'cause ye know me, I'm sure tha' Arella Dorchester can ge' ye a deal.”

“I'm gonna go out on a limb an' guess thet y'all hooked up at one time,” Shani commented as she steered her horse toward the saloon.  “Thet she's the one y'all 're thinkin' 'bout wrestlin' in the sheets.”  Pania never said a word, but shrugged lightly.  Shani huffed as she dismounted, knowing the coy smile on the bard's lips was answer enough for her.  “I tell you what, I think 'bout it while I'm winnin' back alla the money I lost last time, ya hear?”

Shani tied her horse to the hitching rail as Pania guided her own further down the street.  Inside the saloon, the elven gunslinger could hear the jubilant cheers and the clink of poker chips.  The tinkling of ivories denoted a smooth piano player was in the saloon that night, keeping the mood festive with a lively piece.  Shani opened the gated doors to the establishment and leaned lazily against the door frame as she watched the crowd.  Several faces she recognized in this place, and maybe a few might recognize her.

“Well,” called out a gruff, but cheerful voice.  Shani looked to her left as she saw a large man push himself away from the bar.  “Look what the autumn wind blew inta town, boys.  Shani, yer a sight fer sore eyes.”

“Slow Hand Johnson,” she drawled with a smile.  “Been a while since I seen you.  Y'all been keepin' y'self pretty low key, I hear.”

“Ya know the way it is Shan,” Johnson replied with a boisterous laugh.  “Ain't 'xactly like you.  I hear the army were chasin' yer tail.  What you doin' in town?”

“Jist passin' through on the way north, figger I stop fer a bit,” she replied as a smile formed on her face.  “In partic'lar, win back thet money ya done won from me 'bout a year back.  So, I'd say if there's a game, deal me in boys.”

*****

Madam Arella Dorchester's Boarding House For Young Women was at its usual relaxing time of the day.  Just before some of the more ravenous clientele would come calling.  All the girls knew who was here for business, and who was just coming to call for a visit.  Though there was the odd customer that would stop by, unannounced that one of the women knew quite well.

Such was the case this evening.

Several of the young women stopped their playful discussion as the door opened up without the warning of a knock.  They watched as the figure make her entrance, marveling at the finely crafted European style clothing she wore.  The women continued to watched as she stopped in the entryway to the living room, delicate hands landing with ease on sensuously curved hips, accented more by her thigh high boots.  They gazed at the ornate rapier, held fast in its sheath at her hip.  Then came the captivating part as the woman looked up and her eyes seemed to dance from person to person in the room.

Pania Alow always knew how to make an entrance.

“Ifn ye fine ladies pardon the int'rruption,” she said in a sultry voice.  “Bu' would Madam Arella  be 'bout.”

“I thought I recognized that swagger when you walked through the door,” a woman called out with a smile, her voice betraying her southern upbringing.  Pania turned just slightly, as her eyes seemed to sparkle with the appearance of Arella.  “Landsakes alive, girl,” Arella said as she approached the elven bard and gave her a warm hug.  “It has been too long.”

“It 'as indeed,” Pania replied as she returned the hug.  She stepped back just a bit, her eyes appraising the figure of Arella before her.  A full figured woman, with creamy white skin, long chestnut brown hair kept in curls that seemed to dance on her shoulders.  A bodice that accented all the right places only added to the floor length dress that this stately woman wore.  “Ye are a sight fer sore eyes, luv,” Pania cooed.

“So, might I inquire as to why you have stopped by?” Arella asked with a coy, but knowing smile.  Pania took a deep breath and seemed to hum as she nodded her head.  It had indeed been too long.

*****

Indiana border

The horse's heavy hooves seemed to shatter the earth as they landed.  It stopped by command of its rider, the mysterious gunslinger.  Just like the rider, the horse was also a mystery.  Draped in tattered leathers that seemed to hide it's true form, and eyes that seemed to burn with a fire inside of them.  All around the horse and rider everything had died.  Plants and animals alike merely fell to their death in the wake of this black steed.  Even the sky seemed to become gray, blotting out the stars where this rider traveled.

Death always lay in their wake.  It was the trademark of this mysterious gunslinger.

The rider looked out toward the horizon and a sneer, if it could be called that, formed on his blackened and broken face.  His quarry was resting, which meant he had time.  Neither one of them would know what was coming.

So much the better.  It would make the hunt that much sweeter.

[Black Bowman]

Part Three

The clink of poker chips only added to the already festive feel of the small saloon.  Shani was up in the game, as she'd won a good chunk of her money back that she had lost to Slow Hand over a year ago.  As the game went on, she and Slow Hand would share stories, jokes and generally laugh about the strangest of things.  A few of the other card players joined in with the uplifting talk as well, making the game much more friendly.

“You remember when we hit that small wagon train, just outside o' Montgomery?” Slow Hand asked as he nudged Shani's arm.  “An' that woman in the rich lookin' wagon?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Shani replied with a grin.  “She were jist gittin' all hysterical an' screamin' an' whatnot.”  She chuckled as she tossed back her shot of whiskey and then tossed in her bid for the round as she looked to the other card players.  “We never had no intention o' shootin' anyone, but the way them people went on, ya think we was cold blooded murderers.”

“An' then Shan just look at the young filly kickin' up a fuss an' she just shouts 'keep yer bodice on, woman.  We ain't after yer jewels!” Slow Hand described with a wide grin as he checked his cards and tossed in his bid.

“So why you two split up?” one of the card players asked with genuine interest.  “Ya had such a successful run t'gether, but ya just split?”

“Well, we knew there'd be a time come when we'd haveta,” Slow Hand explained.  “Law was gettin' tight, an' especially with the war we needed ta lay low.  I ended up workin' for some people in the Railroad an' went honest.  I figger there's a few lawmen that won't gimme the benefit, though.”

“Yeah, we knew there'd be them thet'll still try an' come after us,” Shani added as she checked her cards yet again.  “This pot's too rich fer me, I fold on this one.”  She tossed her cards aside and grabbed the whiskey bottle to refresh her drink.  One of the other players tossed his cards aside angrily.

“Ya pretty much cleaned us all out,” he said with a slight sneer.  “But now ya foldin'.  Ain't gonna gimme a chance ta win back what's mine?”

“Clem,” Slow Hand said with an air of caution.  “Keep yer shirt on.  This here's just a friendly game an' we don't want trouble.  We each lost our share.  An' it ain't like Shan's been cheatin'.”  Slow Hand took the bottle and poured himself a drink before he added, “'Sides, Clem, if she were cheatin', I'd know.”  He looked to Shani with a smirk.  “She gets this look in 'er eye.”  Slow Hand lifted the shot glass to his lips and stopped as he saw Clem's hand move toward his gun belt.  “You don't wanna do that, Clem,” he warned as he leaned back in his chair.  His thick, meaty hand rested on the bone handle butt of his pistol as he stared down Clem.  For a while, the two gunfighters just glared at each other before Clem realized there were others at the table.  Shani and five other card players had leaned back in their chairs, hands resting on pistols.  Even if Clem got a shot off on Shani, at least five more would hit him.

Clem huffed with anger as he stormed out of the saloon, slamming the doors wildly.  The card players listened as they heard his spurs jingle loudly down the boardwalk until fading out, and seemed to relax a bit as they went back to their game

“You be careful with him, Shan,” Slow Hand warned Shani as he leaned across the table and pulled in his winnings.  “Clem's got a jealous streak.  I figger he's gonna call you out b'fore too long.”

“Well,” Shani said with a resigned sigh as she picked up the cards and began shuffling.  “It ain't like I never seen shit like thet b'fore.  When the time come, I'll deal with 'im.  Let's jist hope thet Clem kin see reason an' leave well 'nough 'lone.”
Pania smiled as she lay next to Arella, playfully twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.  Arella's hand gently caressed the smooth skin of the elven bard's arm as she looked into Pania's eyes and she sighed softly.  “Been a long time, Pania,” Arella finally said for the first time since greeting the curvy elf into her establishment.  “Almost a year.”

“I've 'ad me travels,” Pania replied, her voice never losing it's sulty sound.  “I guess ye could say I went on an adventure.  'Ooked up with Shani Wennemein.”  She smiled slyly as her eyes seemed to twinkle just a bit.  “Ye know, the Black Mask.”

“You hooked up with Black Mask?” Arella said with a soft chuckle.  “I never saw you as the gunslinger type, Pania.  What's she like?  You and Black Mask... You two never...”

“Oh no!” Pania replied with a giggle.  “No' fer lack o' tryin', mind ye.  Shani's no' tha' type.  Bu' she's an 'onourable person.  As far as fightin' go, I'd no' 'ave no one else ta back me up.”  She moved closer to Arella, wrapping her arm around her waist as her fingers gently caressed Arella's backside.

A shudder went through Arella and she closed her eyes as a soft moan escaped her lips.  “You keep doin' that an' I would have to say that you may be in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Pania replied with an impish grin.  “I dunna 'ear ye complaining 'tall, luv.”

“No complaints, love,” Arella stated as her hands gently cupped Pania's cheeks.  She leaned in closer to the elven bard, and gently pressed her lips to Pania's.  It was going to be a good night after all.
The door to the post master's home slammed open with violence.  A man sitting by a fireplace set down his pipe and looked up with a scowl as he reached for a pistol that lay on a side table.  As he saw the man who entered his home he sighed and shook his head with frustration.  “What now, Clem?” he announced with some annoyance.

“I hear word there's a group o' U.S. Army not far from here,” Clem said with a touch of ire in his voice.  “You get a word out on the telegraph, Black Mask is here in town.”

The post master sat motionless for a moment as he tried to comprehend what Clem had just informed him.  One of the most wanted gunslingers in the United States was here in Bloomington.  He shook his head as he snapped back to reality and rose from his chair.  “I know there's a group in Bedford.  They came in from Washington not that long ago.”  He lead Clem to the back room of the house where his telegraph machine was, and sat down at the desk, pencil and paper in hand.  “Lead by a veteran captain.  I met him three years ago, good man too.”

“Well, you get this captain here, an' I'll point him in the direction o' Black Mask,” Clem stated as the wild look in his eyes became even worse.

“It'll take a couple of days,” the post master informed Clem.  “Captain Samuel Williams only arrived last week, and he'll more than like want fresh horses and train his new rotation.  I'll get word out, but don't expect them here for at least fer a few hours, maybe even 'til tomorrow mornin'.”

“You just get word out,” Clem replied as he looked back to the front door of the house.  His eyes held that wild look of a man scheming.  “If it come ta it, I can keep Black Mask busy.  An' if it so happen that I kill 'er, so much the better.  Posters say dead 'r 'live anyway.”

Bedford, Indiana, October 14, 1863

A sharply dressed junior officer walked with purpose down the hallway of the bunkhouse.  Most of the men were already asleep, but this man knew that their commanding officer was still very much awake, and the message he had received by telegraph would be welcome indeed.  He stopped before the door to the captain's quarters, taking a moment to straighten his neatly pressed blue uniform.  Light was spilling out underneath the door, an indication that Captain Samuel Williams was still awake.  The junior officer knocked lightly on the door and awaited the reply from inside.

“Come in,” Williams muffled reply came quickly.  The junior officer opened the door quietly, and stepped inside the room.  Williams looked up from the work he had laid out on his desk, which included maps, transcripts and a large journal.  “What is it Beaumont?” he asked as he removed the pipe from his mouth.

“Wire just came in from Bloomington, Sir,” he explained quickly as he crossed the room to stand in front of the desk across from Williams.  “Seems that Black Mask has been seen at a saloon there.”  He handed Williams the transcript of the telegraph message and stood at ease as he awaited further orders from the Captain.

Williams looked over the transcript as he furrowed his brow.  The junior officer knew that Williams had already formulated a plan as the Captain laid the paper down on his desk and sat back in his chair.  “Let the men sleep for now.  Wake them at Oh Six Hundred hours.  I'll assume that Pale Rider is with her in Bloomington as well.  Those two have been riding together since Harrisburg, so I don't doubt they'll be in Bloomington together.”  The junior officer snapped a stiff salute and turned on his heel as he exited the room.

Williams took a puff from his pipe as he contemplated the news.  Strange how fate seemed to draw these two gunslingers together, and how fate always placed them so close at his fingertips.  Perhaps this time, he'd capture them in Bloomington.

[Black Bowman]

Part Four

Bloomington, Indiana, October 14, 1863

Clem paced back and forth in the post master's office.  Since the message had been written, three other gunslingers joined the small meeting.  Close friends of Clem's, they saw dollar signs as soon as word spread that Black Mask had been sighted in the local saloon.  The three discussed the rumours about her and the other gunslinger, Pale Rider.

“I heard thet them two is pardnered up,” one of the young men stated.  “An' thet she's worse'n Black Mask.”

“Hell, I heard that they both got some o' the best shots in the whole midwest,” another piped up.  “I got a friend what live over in Franklin that seen them two do some powerful strange stuff.”

“So what the hell're we gonna do 'gainst the likes o' them?” the third stated.  “The money's one thing, but hell, I don't wanna die.”

Clem stopped his pacing as he looked to his three friends.  “We just gotta keep 'em busy,” he explained with a smile.  “I figger them army'll pay us at least half o' what them reward posters say.  If it's just Black Mask, then that's still twenny five grand.  An' if Pale Rider is 'round town, then that's fifty grand split five ways.”

“Five?” the post master said with a snort of a laugh.  “Clem, you should have listened to your mother and stayed in school.  There's only four of you.”

Clem grinned, displaying a row of rather yellowed teeth as he looked to the post master.  “I'm includin' you in on that, Sir.  Yer the one that made the call.”

“Oh, how very generous of you,” the post master replied as he rolled his eyes.  His attention drifted back to his telegraph as it seemed to spring to life, and he picked up a pencil and began writing furiously.  “Message has been received,” the post master informed the junior cowboys.  “The United States Army would like to pass on their thanks for the information you provided.  A detail will be dispatched from Bedford in the morning.”

Clem furrowed his brow as he looked back to his companions.  “Mornin'.  That mean it could be late afternoon, maybe evenin' b'fore they get here.”

“What do we do 'till then?” one of the men asked.

Clem began to smile as a hand rested on his gun belt.  “Hell, we do what we were born ta do, fellas.  Gonna keep 'er busy, an' if that don't work, then I guess a lil gunplay ain't gonna hurt none.”

*****

Chairs pushed back lazily as card players said their good byes to each other.  The boisterous saloon had grown quiet as people began to move off to paid rooms or to their homes.  Even Shani was beginning to pack her things up as she finished off her whiskey while she laughed with Slow Hand.  The pair had a lot of catching up to do, and the bar tender didn't mind that they took their time.  At least they weren't being rowdy at all, and it gave the bar keeper something to listen to and chuckle over as he took to cleaning tables and storing bottles of alcohol.

“You remember when we first hooked up?” Slow Hand said with a sly grin.  “I saw ya screamin' yer head off, layin' on them railroad tracks.  Thought ya were gonna die.”

“Oh gods, ya hadda remind me o' thet,” Shani replied with a soft chuckle.  “Hell, thet were the first time I ever seen a train.  I had no clue what it were.  But you seem ta be the only one willin' ta drag me offa them tracks.  Ifn it weren't fer you, I don't know what woulda happened.”

The pair continued sharing in old stories of their past, how they first met, how it was Slow Hand who taught her how to shoot and care for a pistol, and how it was Shani that taught Slow Hand how to smile.  As they talked, the bar tender stood beside them, not caring if they hurried as he cleaned.  He stopped to lean on his broom, laughing as they told story after story.

The three stopped talking as a glass window pane shattered and a rock thumped its way across the floor.  The bar tender looked toward the street through the window and scowled as he saw four men standing outside.  Shani and Slow Hand had turned toward the window as well, the elven gunslinger sighing openly.

“Clem!” the bar tender shouted loudly as he put his broom aside.  “You get your ass home!  Right now before I come out there an' whup you good!”

“Don't want no trouble from you, Shiller,” Clem shouted back.  “We just wanna talk with Black Mask.”

The bar tender looked back to Shani and Slow Hand, the former already standing up as she checked her weapons.  “Clem's an idiot, but he's a good kid.  I'll tan his hide for this, but just don't kill him.”

“I ain't got any 'tentions o' killin' 'im,” Shani replied with a huff as she holstered her long barrel.  “'Sides, if he's dead, he ain't gonna learn nuthin'.”  She started to move forward but stopped as she heard the familiar sound of a gun being loaded.  Slow Hand was making certain his weapon was ready to go.  He looked to her with a knowing smirk and she replied with a nod.  “Anyways, it ain't like it's four ta one.  I gots back up, an' thet jist means thet Clem an' his boys 're now the underdogs.”

*****

The two lovers lay contented as they held each other close.  For Pania it had been so long since she had felt this way.  Coming back to Bloomington helped a great deal, and this moment helped to drain all of her tensions and worries away.  Arella slipped out of the embrace to prop herself up on one arm as she studied Pania.  The elven bard merely lay back and watched Arella.  So much to say, but so little time.

“I missed you,” Arella said in a quiet whisper.  “I often thought I wasn't never gonna see you again.  Especially when those dime store novels started cropping up about the Legend o' Pale Rider.”

Pania groaned and rolled her eyes with mention of the rag novel.  “Oh gods, ye had ta make mention o' tha' pile o' tripe,” she said as she seemed to push herself down under the sheets, as though the mere mention of it was enough to cause great embarrassment.  “The thin's they write 'bout me in tha' thing... They make it sound like I've go' supernatural powers 'r sumthin'.”

“Pania,” Arella said with a smile as she leaned over and kissed Pania's nose.  “I've seen you cast spells an' do things no other person I ever met could do.  Not even those magicians in New York or Boston.  Those things are all just illusion an' slight o' hand compared ta what you can do.  What might seem normal to you, ain't so normal to us.”  Arella let a sly smile cross her lips as her voice became a sultry whisper.  “An' that alone is one o' the reasons I love you so much.”

The pair began to lean in close to each other, feeling the passion of the moment, something that both had not had in so very long; not since their last meeting.  Closer they came, feeling the heat of each others bodies.

In the distance, a shattering window brought them back to reality, as though a rug was quickly pulled from underneath them.  Shouts on the street below soon followed.  Arella wrapped a sheet around herself as she moved to the window.  “Oh hell!” she said with some frustration, both on the sudden interruption as much as she recognized who was on the street.  “It's that kid, Clem.  He's stirrin' up trouble again.”

“Wha's 'e doin'?” Pania said as she stood beside Arella and peered out the window.  Her eyes focused on the four men, and then narrowed as she recognized a fifth, tall and lanky figure coming out of the saloon.  “Bloody 'ell!” she cried out as she moved away from the window.

“What is it?” Arella asked quickly as she watch Pania dress in a rather hurried manner.  “What's goin' on?”

“Tha' one tha' jus' walked out o' the saloon,” Pania replied as she reached for her gun belt and rapier.  “Tha's me partner.  Shani, also known as the Black Mask.”

Arella looked back to the street below, catching sight of a sixth person.  “Slow Hand Johnson just came outta the saloon.  I think he's sidin' with your friend.”

“Bloody...” Pania huffed as she pulled on the long coat over her shoulders.  “This Clem more 'n likely 'as dollar signs fer eyes.  Be' 'e called Shani out.  An' Shani's no' one ta back down from a fight, tha's fer certain.”

“You gonna help her out?”

“I'm gonna make bloody certain tha' Clem dunna ge' 'is face shot off,” Pania said as she completed one last inspection.  “Shani dunna need the 'elp, bu' this Clem needs a lesson in manners.  An' some brains.”

*****

The tall figure watched from the shadows down the street.  A sickly smile crossed his rotted lips as he knew what was about to happen.  Both of his targets would soon make themselves known.  It was the way of gunslingers, especially those who made reputations for themselves.  He began to move forward down the street, keeping in the shadows as he watched the scene before him.

It wouldn't be long now, he could almost taste the power that would come to him.  So easy it would be.  A pity he would have to do the same to Mandrake; after all, he had lived an unlife for so long, he had learned not to trust ones like Mandrake who coveted power so much.

This night, Black Mask and Pale Rider would be his.

[Black Bowman]

Part Five

“Miss  Dorchester,” one of the girls said in a hurried voice as she raced down the steps.  “There's gunslingers in the streets.  Four 'r five of 'em.”

“I know, Charlotte,” Arella explained with a nod as she peeked out the window of the front room, pushing the silken curtain back just a bit.  “But one o' them gun fighters isn't a man.  That's Black Mask out there.”  Charlotte had been joined by a few of the other girls as they too peeked out the window.  With the call of the familiar name, the girls let out a gasp.  Black Mask's notoriety had gone a long way.

“She's no' 'lone,” Pania said behind them.  She was busily loading her Smith and Wessons, slamming the chamber shut and twirling it expertly before holstering the pistol.  The girls looked back for a moment then to Arella.  The house mistress had mixed feelings with what was about to transpire.  Pania could sense this and a small smile crept over her features.  “No worries, luv.  No' like we cannu deal with the likes o' Clem an' 'is boys.”

“Just don't kill 'em, okay,” Arella replied with a frustrated breath.  “They maybe no accounts, but they ain't bad men.”  Pania nodded carefully, making sure her eyes met Arella's, then moved quickly to the front door.

As she reached out to open the door, Charlotte ran up to her with a pleading look in her eyes.  “Clem's all kinds of stupid, but he's a good person deep down.  Don't hurt 'im.  Too bad.”

“So Arella's said, Pania replied with a nod and a soft smile.  “I'll make certain no' ta 'urt 'im too bad.”  She turned the door knob and opened the door loudly so all in the street could hear.  Heads turned as her boots hit the wooden boardwalk.  They watched as she walked with confidence toward Shani.  The elven gunslinger only shrugged her shoulders as she saw the bard.

“'Bout time y'all got out here,” Shani said in a low voice as Pania stopped beside her.  “An' here I thought it were gonna be borin'.” Shani looked over Pania for just a moment before she smirked.  “Were she good?”

“I guess ye'd 'aveta experience wha' tha' might be like sometime,” Pania replied with a coy smile as Shani narrowed her eyes slightly.  Pania went over one last check of her weapons before her tone became a touch more serious.  “Just dunna kill 'em,” Pania said quietly as she finally took her stance beside Shani.

“I figgered as much,” Shani replied with a nod.  “These boys don't look like much.  They talk, but they ain't got the balls when push come ta shove.”

The night air grew quiet even with the gathering of spectators.  It was rare that Bloomington had a midnight gunfight in the middle of the streets, let alone any time of day.  It was all new and exciting, yet at the same time frightening.  In this case, two of the gunslingers were very well known.  Shani and Pania stared down at Clem and his boys.  The Shani took into account the shots that would wound the four with ease.  Make it fast, let them cry in the dirt, and it would be over.

Hands hung carefully over their holstered six shooters.  Every so often, a gunslinger would flex his or her fingers, always eyes watching the opponents.  Clem began to crouch, his hand twitching just slightly; he was partially scared, partially excited.  Who wouldn't be when you're faced with two of the most notorious gunslingers in the Union and the Confederacy.  He sneered as he tried to look intimidating to the two elves, but just like in the poker game, neither Shani nor Pania gave a hint as to their demeanor.  This seeming lcack of emotion, this kind of poker face was the kind stuff that made Clem incensed with rage.  It would only cost him.

But not from the barrel of a gun.

Clem's eyes grew wide as he felt the blade escape from his chest.  He hadn't heard the footsteps behind him.  He screamed out as he felt his very life force being drawn from his lips.  The spectators drew back as Clem's body began to decay and wither before their very eyes.  Within seconds it was over.  Clem's buddies drew back, looking to the new player who had arrived.  The tall figure tossed Clem's body aside with ease.  The black cloak seemed to be alive, the figure's face masked by a long scarf, his stetson pulled down so even his red eyes were almost obscured.  He held the long blade beside him as he stretched out a boney finger toward Shani and Pania.

“There is a bounty,” he said in voice hollow of emotion and devoid of life.  “And I intend to collect.”

Pania blinked hard as her hand reached for her Smith and Wesson.  It was impossible, there was no record of such a creature on this planet before.  Yet here he stood.  "D'ye realize wha' tha' is, Shani?" Pania asked as her eyes widened.  She wanted to run, but she thought of those that lined the street.  This monster would kill them all.

"Yeah, I know what thet sonofabitch is," Shani replied as she pulled out both long barrel Colts, tightening her grip on them as she glared at the tall dark figure.  "It's a godsdamned lich!"

*****

There was a stunned hush that filled the street as the gathered crowd stared in disbelief at the corpse that had only moments before been Clem.  The tall, dark figure had taken him down so easily, without any effort whatsoever.  At the other end of the street, the two elven gunslingers knew all too well what this creature was, and if he wasn't stopped then all of Bloomington could be destroyed.  Shani and Pania quickly drew their weapons and began firing.  Clem's buddies scurried away like rats as they realized this was more than they had bargained for.

Shani heard the loud boom of a twelve gauge shot gun and looked to her left in time to see Slow Hand reloading the hand held cannon.  “Slow Hand!  What the hell ya doin'?  Git as many people outta here as ya kin!”

“Bar keep can do that, Shan,” he replied with a sneer as his gaze landed upon the dark figure.  “If this here thing's gonna chase us down an' kill us, then I ain't runnin'.  I'm goin' down fightin'.”  As though he wished to emphasize his statement, he let loose with another volley toward the dark figure.

Pania fired off her Smith and Wessons, wincing slightly at the sound of the twelve gauge.  Her attention was diverted as she heard another gun firing off, but knew it was neither Shani's nor her friend Slow Hand's weapons.  She turned to her right and took a deep breath as Arella held the Winchester rifle steady in her hands.  “Slow Hand's right, Pania.  I ain't one ta back down from a fight.  Especially when I got so much to lose.”  The elven bard merely nodded and fired again at the figure.  The bullets only seemed to slow him down.

“Reloadin'!” Shani called out as she dumped the empty cartridges from her long barrels.  The four had managed to create a small line and backed up as the figure advanced.  Behind the four was chaos as townsfolk ran for their lives.  The figure kept advancing upon the four, laughing maniacally as he did.  With a calm and boney hand, he pointed at the fallen corpse of Clem.  The dusty bag of bones began to move, rising to it's feet and shambling after it's new master.

“CLEM!” came a shout from across the street.  Pania looked over in time to see Charlotte racing toward the once living cowboy.

“Charlotte!” Pania shouted out with a voice filled with desperation and warning.  “Luv!  No!  Do...”  Her words fell short as the walking undead grabbed Charlotte with an unearthly strength as it's arms wrapped around her and lifted her up, snapping her spine.  Lifelessly, she fell to the ground.  Pania screamed out in anger and fired again until her pistols were emptied.

“Girly girl!” Shani shouted out as she nudged Pania's shoulder.  “Keep yer whits 'bout ya, girl.  This ain't time fer revenge.”

Pania snapped back to reality and shook her head as though she were shaking loose cobwebs from her mind.  A cry from Arella made the transition to the here and now complete.  Pania watched as the fresh body of Charlotte lurched to it's feet, shambling behind the undead Clem and their dark figured master.  “Arella!  She's gone!  She's dead!  There's nuthin' we can do!”  Arella's eyes welled up, and then she grimaced with anger as her delicate hands gripped the rifle.

Pania finally holstered her pistols and began conjuring.  Two well placed fireballs made a direct hit, engulfing the two shambling corpses in flames.  Only the lich remained, as he seemed to shrug off the magical flame with a raspy laugh from his decayed lips.  The tall figure stopped to observe the now burning corpses and began to smile.  He looked back toward the four, in particular toward Pania.  “I knew you were filled with power.  I shall enjoy taking it from you.”

“No' without a fight,” Pania shouted back.  The chaos that was behind them was gone as the crowd had long since left, leaving only an eerie silence in this newly created ghost town.  Only the lich and the four gun fighters graced the street with their presence.  They continued to fire upon the lich as he advanced, however, the bullets merely ripped through the fabric of his tattered cloak.

Shani saw it first, as her sharp eyes searched wildly for some way to win.  As the lich's cloak billowed out, she caught sight of a glowing, red crystal that hung in a necklace around the figure's neck.  “Girly girl,” she said with gritted teeth.  “Ya listen up, 'cause I got us a goddsdamned plan!”

[Black Bowman]

Part Six

The four slowly retreated down the street, firing at intervals as the lich advanced on them.  Shani explained her plan as they moved.  “Girly Girl, gonna need alla yer magic fer this one,” she stated with a great deal of urgency.  “An' I hate ta say it, but yer probably gonna have ta git in toe ta toe with the bastard.”

“I figured as much,” Pania replied with some reservation as she fired off her Smith and Wessons.  “Ye've seen somethin' in tha' lich,” she stated with a knowing smile as she quickly emptied the pistols chambers and reloaded.  She reholstered the pistol in her right hand and drew her rapier.  “Somethin' tha'll let us destroy 'im with ease.”

“Ya know the secret ta a lich,” Shani stated almost matter of factly as she fired again.  “They need some object ta keep 'em 'live.  They's phylact'ry.  Usually they keep it hid.”

“Ye've go' a lot o' knowledge fer thin's such as this, Shani,” Pania replied with a sly smile.  She muttered an incantation and touched the blade of her rapier, and it became alive with flame.  “I wager ye shoulda been a bard.”

Shani smirked and scoffed a laugh as she continued her plan.  “Miss Arella.  Slow Hand.  Gonna need you two on the sides o' the streets.  Jist keep pumpin' bullets an' buckshot inta him.  With Pania in his face, I'll try an' git off the right shot.  An' Girly Girl, make sure ta dance 'round him 'nough thet I kin git a clear shot.”

“Dancing shouldn't be too hard for Pania,” Arella said with a slight smirk.  Shani just rolled her eyes and sighed.  At least the attempt at levity in this situation was not unwelcome.  Arella moved to her position on the side of the street as Slow Hand moved to his.  Each of them took a shot at the creature as it advanced.  Shani moved from side to side taking a shot making sure she could see around Pania as the elven bard advanced, rapier tightly gripped in one hand, Smith and Wesson in the other.

The lich seemed to smile as Pania stepped closer to him.  His voice was a low rumble as he spoke.  “This is so much better.  Just give yourself to me.  You will be delaying the inevitable if you continue to resist.”

Pania stopped in her tracks as she looked up to the lich's face.  “Were ye as stupid in life as ye are in death?”  The quick comment seemed to take the lich off guard as he stopped for just a moment.  He moved his head as though he was about to speak once again, but was met with bullets and buckshot.  Pania trusted the aim of her friends as she grinned.  The lich was pushed back by the violent volley, and thrust her rapier forward.  She lunged and parried as the lich responded with an attack of her own, slashed with the blade of her rapier as she caught tattered garments and only managed to tatter them even more.  Each attack revealed more and more of the sickly, skeletal form of the lich.

Pania danced to one side as the creature swung his longsword.  Slow Hand fired off a shot with both barrels of his shotgun.  He was close to the lich, and the flying buckshot tattered the lich's garments even more, but it also did one thing.  It gave Shani a clear shot.

“Git yer ass down!” she shouted to Pania as Shani saw the glowing crystal that hung in a simple chain around the lich's neck.  Pania did as she was instructed, taking one last swipe with her blade as she hit the dirt.  The lich was looking right at Shani, glaring at her, or so it seemed.

He realized all too late that he had been drawn into a trap.  As Shani's long barrels sounded out their reports, Shilo looked down to see the crystal revealed to the world.  The one object that kept him alive in this world.  Or as alive as a lich could be.

The first bullet slammed into his chest, doing little more than sting.  The first was quickly followed by a second, then a third.  Shilo's eyes grew wide as the world seemed to slow down.  The fourth bullet was heading straight for the crystal.  The point of the bullet struck the edge of the crystal, sending a wave of pain through Shilo's being.  Shards of the crystal flew into the air in haphazard directions.  The fifth and sixth bullets finished the job.

Shilo clutched his chest, trying in vain to hold the shattered crystal together, as he screamed in agony and rage.  The shards seemed to mock him as they fell helplessly to the ground.  The air rushed around him as the wind seemed to pick up.  Shani and Pania could feel it, as did Slow Hand and Arella.  Shani reached Pania's side and dragged her away from the lich, now screaming a horrifying howl.  Slow Hand and Arella had moved to join the two elves as they sheltered themselves behind a horse trough, and all four watched as the lich lurched from side to side, his body disintegrating into nothing.

Finally, his form turned to ash as though he were never a threat to begin with.  The wind seemed to hold final judgement, as it swept it away the remains of the lich harmlessly.  The street had become quiet once again.  Shani looked over to Pania, then to Slow Hand and Arella.  A snort of a laugh escaped her lips as the tension from the past few minutes seemed to ease considerably.  “Shit, I think I need a drink after thet.”

*****

Arella closed the door to the boarding house and looked into the living room.  Her girls were huddled together, some sobbing lightly as they were still reliving the horror they had seen.  She looked to the large bay windows and watched through the lace drapes as Shani and Pania cleaned up the street.  Poor Clem.  Poor Charlotte.  There was nothing they could do, it had happened all so fast.  Arella merely sighed heavily as she remembered what Pania had said.  Mourn for them, but it was fortunate more weren't taken by the lich.

The door opened to the boarding house once more, and Arella turned to meet Slow Hand.  He politely removed his hat and nodded to her before speaking.  A polite gesture from a man many had seen as a rough and tumble gunslinger.  “Anythin' ya need, Ma'am?” he asked in a low voice.

Arella shook her head and smiled in reply to his offer.  “No Wilbur,” she said in a soft voice, using the man's real name.  “I believe we'll manage.”

“Alright then,” he said with a smile as he slipped the stetson back onto his head and bowed slightly.  He said not another word as he quietly opened the front door and slipped out, moving across the street to the tavern to ensure nothing was amiss there.

Arella helped the girls calm down as she fussed over their safety.  Slowly, they would return to something akin to a normal life.  But how could anything be normal after having seen what horrors there were in the world.  Arella pushed those thoughts back as she heard the front door open and close, and two sets of spurs jingled as they announced the arrival of the elven gunslingers.

“Ev'rythin' alright in here?” Shani asked with a sigh as she looked over each person.

“We'll manage,” Arella replied as she stepped forward and hugged Pania.  “It could have been much worse.  But you warned me when we first met, Pania,  that things would change.  When I found out you weren't... human.  That things would be different.  And they have been.”  She moved back just a bit, but did not release Pania from her arms.  “But with the bad there's been an awful lot of good.”

Pania smiled and embraced Arella in a tender hug, closing her eyes as she seemed to fall into the comfort that was her lover.  She opened her eyes and caught sight of Shani, watching them for a moment.  The elven gunslinger furrowed her brow and sighed as she finally rolled her eyes.  “Y'all kin git thet thought outta yer head.”

“Wha' thought?” Pania replied with a coy smile.

“You know what I'm talkin' 'bout.”

“Ye should 'ear 'bout the thin's we've done t'gether,” Pania cooed as she turned her attention back to Arella.  The boarding house mistress returned the look with one similar, and took Pania by her arm and began to guide her to the steps.  “I'll tell ye all 'bout our adventures if ye wish,” Pania commented as the pair mounted the stairs.

“Well shit,” Shani called out as she watched the pair climb the stairs.  “Thet all ya think 'bout is sex, sex, sex.  Godsdamned, Girly Girl, there's more ta life then jist--” she stopped herself suddenly as she caught a slight movement from the corner of her eye.  A figure leaned lightly against the door frame that lead into the pantry.  Shani arched an eyebrow as she studied this rather handsome individual for a moment.  He had a lithe frame, and dusty blond hair.  He was young, but not too young, as he carried himself with an air of sophistication. Shani muttered more to herself than anyone else in the room.  “Well dang.  I never knew y'all had boy whores here too.”  She looked over the young man and grinned.  It was going to be a good night.

*****

Shani sauntered out of the room as the first rays of dawn began streaming in through the windows.  She grinned like the cat who ate the canary as she ran a hand through her messy hair, and paused a moment before she closed the door to the bedroom.  “You boys have a good nap now, ya hear,” she said with a sly grin as she looked back to the two young men who lay sprawled on the bed.  She shut the door quietly and began down the hallway.

A few of the doors opened and the girls of the boarding house peeked out as they watched Shani, giggling quietly.  Pania too had opened the door to Miss Arella's room and leaned on the door frame, a knowing smirk on her face.  “Did ye 'ave fun?” she asked with arms crossed as she studied the elven gunslinger, seeing her in a new light.  Shani noted that Pania had already dressed and seemed ready to ride.

“Rode hard,” she replied with a sly smile and a deep sigh.  “Put 'way wet.”  She nodded and turned to look toward the other rooms as the girls yet again let out muffled giggles.  Shani let them have their fun and turned back to her partner.  “Didn't git no complaints.”

“I should say no',” Pania replied with a giggle as the pair began walking down the stairs into the main room of the boarding house.  The smell of fresh bacon and eggs, hash browns and coffee wafted its way throughout the house, a sign that Arella was already up as well.  “I dare say they may 'ave 'eard ye in Shreveport, wha' with the way ye carried on.”

Shani gave Pania a slight look of disapproval, but pushed the thoughts aside.  She needed to have fun that didn't involve gambling, drinking and shooting.  “It'll be nice ta have a decent breakfast thet ain't somethin' we shot, 'r somethin' at a tavern,” she commented, changing the subject quickly.

“Arella's cookin' is some o' the best I've 'ad in this world,” Pania replied, trying to selling Shani on the idea.  “'Sides, it'll give us a chance to take a look at these,” she said as she took out two envelopes.  She handed them both to Shani who opened each one and began reading the enclosed letters.  Pania noted the elven gunslinger's brow furrowing in frustration and anger.  “Those were the only thin's left from our lich after 'e evaporated inta dust.  Seems tha' someone contracted 'im out.  Name's on tha' seal on the envelope.”  Pania pointed to an ornate seal of wax that had held the envelope closed.  It read simply, Mandrake.

“So wha's the plan?” Shani said as she handed the envelopes back to Pania.

“First, breakfast,” she said as she moved into the kitchen.  She gave Arella a warm smile and hugged her tight, ending it with a quick kiss good morning.  “Then we should more 'n likely 'ead north ta Minnesota.  I did some diggin' an' found out tha' this Mandrake fella 'as a mansion near St. Paul.”

“You been busy,” Shani noted as she took her seat at the table.

“I 'ad me fun already,” Pania said with a grin.  “'Sides, I didna want ta interrupt ye.”

Shani rolled her eyes and shook her head as a plate of food was placed before her.  “Y'all ain't gonna let me live this one down, are ya.”

*****

On the streets of Bloomington, life was returning to normal.  The townsfolk gathered talking about the night's events, some in shock, some as though it were a grand adventure.  Others passed it off as an excuse for some juvenille raucus.  But still they talked about it.  Slow Hand Johnson sat in the saloon and just listened, a smile on his face, as he knew none of their speculation came close to what had happened the previous night.

He finished his breakfast and tossed down some cash on the table, collected his things and rose to greet the morning light.  A few people had begun to make their way onto the streets, as businesses began to open for the day.  Wagons began rolling in and Slow Hand would stop as he walked, letting them pass by.  He saw riders down the street, and felt a twinge go through him.  “Those're U.S. Army,” he muttered to himself as he peered down the street.

Riding tall in the saddle of the lead horse was their captain.  A well known man by many.  In Slow Hand's case, known for the bounty this captain chased.  He changed his direction and began walking toward the boarding house.  He had to warn Shani and Pania that Captain Williams was in town.

*****

Shani returned to the main living room of the bordello after freshening up.  She'd dressed and made sure that her gear was all in one piece, all the while trying to be quiet while the two young men were in a deep sleep.  She tied her hair back in a pony tail and slid the stetson onto her her as she cleared her throat.  Pania and Arella were sitting on the couch, not actually doing anything, but seemingly lost in each others eyes.  “We still got us some supplies ta git,” Shani reminded Pania.

“I've taken care of some of that,” Arella announced as she looked up from her dream like state.  “Some rations have been packed for both o' you.  Plus any extra ammunition that ya need.”  She looked back to Pania with a sultry smile.  “Gotta keep those pistols ready, honey.”

Shani rolled her eyes and sighed.  She'd let Pania have her fun, at least for a little while.  Then it was back on the trail to find this Mandrake.  Her thoughts of the coming ride were broken, as the door opened quickly.  Slow Hand walked in, urgency etched into his features.  “Slow Hand, what the hell's matter?” Shani asked quickly, knowing the usual pleasantries of the morning would be gone with his look.

“You two gotta get on the road again,” he anounced without hesitation.  “Now.  Captain Williams an' his men just showed up in town.  I figgered it'd take 'em a helluva lot longer ta get here.”  He looked over to Shani with a smile.  “Wanted ta win my money back.  Guess I'll have ta wait.”

“No rest fer the wicked,” Pania remarked as she slipped into her long coat and dropped the duster hat on her head.  “C'mon.  We best make tracks now.”  The pair of elves quietly exited the bordello, their horses waiting for them on the street.  At least Slow Hand had made sure to get them ready before they had to run.

Shani took quick glances across the street as they approached the horses, noting the horsemen in uniform were busy around the tavern.  “Maybe we kin catch a break,” Shani whispered.

*****

Across the street, the men tended to their horses in a casual manner.  Private Johnson was hitching up his horse as he managed to look up toward the bordello.  He froze for a moment as he saw the two elves.  For a brief moment, he almost said nothing.  He remembered what these two had done in the South.  Acting as sheriff and deputy to help clean up a small town.  But they had their orders.  He had no choice.

“Sir...” he said in a whisper like voice, then bolstered his courage and forced his voice to rise in timber.  “Captain Williams!”  Williams, along with the other soldiers, looked toward Private Johnson.   Captain Williams gaze continued as he looked across the street.

Shani and Pania nearly froze in place.  Pania was already in the saddle, Shani had one foot in her sturup.  “Shit,” she muttered to herself.

A few seconds seemed to draw out like hours as the staring contest continued.  Captain Williams was the first to break it.  “Men, mount now!” he shouted, which seemed to snap Shani out of her trance.  The lithe elf jumped into the saddle and coaxed Gipsum into a gallop.  They'd have a head start as the soldiers still had to unhitch their horses.  But here they were once again;  on the run.

“Jus' like ol' times, aye,” Pania said with a grin as she tried to bring some levity to the situation.

Shani gave Pania a quick look and spurred her horse forward.  “Yeah, 'cept I'm gittin' kinda used ta ridin' at a leisurely pace.”  She took a quick look behind them as they raced down the main street of Bloomington.  They had a long ride ahead of them, and having the pursuit would not be helpful.  “Let's jist git our asses ta St. Paul an' figger this out.  'Cause ifn we don't, no tellin' what this bastard'll do.”

Yeah, it was a big showdown,
Oh yeah, we stood our ground.
Shot out the lights:
It got a little crazy.
I don't wanna see us go,
The way of the buffalo:
Don't wanna have another wild west show.
Hey yaw, Hey yaw!

lyrics from Wild West Show, as performed by Big & Rich

[Black Bowman]

Long Train Comin'

Part One

Somewhere near Reading, Pennsylvania, Early October 1863

The moon was high as five figures dragged a woman, whimpering and struggling weakly against their grip.  They worked quickly, binding the woman to a fallen support column, and then turning their attention to a dark pit.  As they feverishly worked, the young woman could only look on in horror as they dragged up a disfigured obelisk from the pit, the figure of a twisted humanoid shape chained to the structure.  She could only watch as the five began some sort of ritual, as they worked feverishly to awaken the figure.  Fear crept further and further through her veins as the twisted figure began to move, the woman could see the creature's fangs, and feel it's hollow eyes land upon her.

“R-release me!” it seemed to hiss as it's attention was completely focused on the woman before it.  “Must... feed!”  The five pale figures worked quickly as they unshackled the creature from its prison, with each second they grew closer the creature growled out a desire for sustenance.

When the final chain fell, the creature lumbered forward; the woman tried to scream, call out for help, anything that would summon a quick rescue, but none would come.  The creature sank it's fangs into her neck and began to drink deeply from her.  As the life ebbed from the young woman, the creature began to take on a new appearance, as though life had begun to fill it up.  The pale skin, long black hair, and full figure of the female took on a greater appearance.

As the elven vampire drank her last, she tossed the useless husk of the now dead woman to the side and looked to the five that held Ya'Row in a solemn regard.  “You,” she said as she pointed to one of the thralls bound to her.  “Find me appropriate garments.”  Her gaze snapped to another of her thralls.  “And you.  Tell me where we can find them.  Where are those elves?”

“Mistress,” the thrall replied in a hushed voice, filled with reverence.  “We have heard word that they are west of here.  Travelling through Indiana as we speak.”  He paused a moment before continuing.  “We believe they are travelling north, chased by the United States Army.”

“The Army will catch them,” another thrall replied.  “More than likely the elves will hang.”

The elven vampire snarled as she looked to her thralls.  “That must not happen,” she said with a sneer.  “They will be mine.  I will destroy them.”

“Yes Mistress,” the thralls replied in unison.  “We will begin our travel at once.”

Ya'Row snorted a laugh and smiled a most wicked smile.  “Excellent.  Let the hunt begin.”

*****

Gary, Indiana, October 16, 1863

The tall man flipped his pocket watch closed and placed it in the pocket of the long, black coat.  He had a rugged appearance about him; a face that had seen many days on the range, eyes that had seen much death.  His grey hair flowed from under the black stetson, kept crisp and clean.  An old gun-hand by all appearances, right down to the breastplate he wore.  Many were shocked, though, as they saw the cross emblazoned on the plate, and the reverend's collar at his throat.  Gripped in his right hand was the well worn book that seemed to always remain by his side.  The very same book that he opened and continued to read from as he waited on the boarding platform of the train station.

People mingled all around him, not paying him much attention, only when he would offer a kind smile in greeting.  He didn't talk much, or to many that walked past him; he was just a traveller like many to this station.  This did not mean his eyes did not take in those around him.

A tall, thin man stumbled and fell to the platform as three rugged looking gunslingers pushed him around.  They laughed as the man attempted to collect his bags and rise to his feet only to fall once again as one of the cowboys tripped him up.  “What's the meaning of this?” the man cried out as the rough hands on one cowboy pushed him down again.

“Jist wantin' ta find someone who can be generous 'nough ta git us fair fer the train,” one of them announced with a wicked grin.  “Figger you'd be nice 'nough ta do jist that.”

“I... I only have enough for myself,” the man pleaded as he gathered his bags up yet again.  “I do have some things to sell.  If you'll leave me alone.”

The three cowboys grinned at the man as they circled him like vultures.  The man looked up with pleading eyes to the three gunslingers, pushing himself back along the platform as other commuters around him paid no heed.  He stopped moving when his hand came to rest on a soft, leather boot.  The three cowboys stopped as well, their attention fixed upon the man in the long, black coat with the black stetson.

“And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.” the man simply said aloud in a gravely voice as he looked from gunslinger to gunslinger.  “And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.  And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.  But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.”  The tall man stopped as he held out a helping hand to the man, still speaking as he assisted the man to his feet.  “You three should heed the words and act more like the good Samaritan.”

“We don't need no preacher tellin' us what ta do,” one of the cowboys sneered.  “B'sides preacher, who's gonna help you?”

“I put my faith in the Lord,” he replied as he moved between the young man and the three gunslingers, one hand opening his long coat.  The three cowboys stopped as they saw the long barrel Colt that rest in a holster on his hip.  “As for those that are troubled by the evils of the world, I will act in accordance to the good Samaritan, and offer aid.  Might I suggest you boys think on those words for a spell.”  His hand remained on the butt of the long barrel as he watched the trio of men.  They tried to determine if he could actually take them out, and at one time thought he might.  But this place was not the time for a gun fight.  The man watched them as they slowly walked away, down the length of the platform.

“Thank you, Reverend,” the young man said as he checked his bags quickly.  “What can I do to pay you, Sir.”

“No need for sir, young man,” the older of the two said with a kind smile.  “Name's Reverend Carter Stewart.  An' the only thing I'd ask o' you is ta remember this, and do something in kindness for someone else down the road.”  Without another word, Stewart turned to the conductor of the train and handed his ticket over.

Across the platform another gunslinger holstered her own long barrel Colt.

“I tol' ye there'd be no need fer tha',” Pania said to Shani as the elven gunslinger moved back to the ticket window.

“I jist don't like it when a buncha brigands start roughin' up some city slicker who come out here fer a new life,” Shani huffed openly as she reached into her coin purse.  “How much were thet 'gain?”

“That'll be fifty dollars, Miss,” the man behind the ticket counter repeated.

“Fifty dollars!” Shani replied with a great deal of shock.  “Thet there's highway robbery.  An' I know all 'bout high way robbery.”

“Two tickets to Thief River Falls,” the man behind the ticket counter explained.  “And boarding of your horses on the livestock trailer.”

“Well then.  Fifty it is,” Shani said as she easily dropped the money down and took the two tickets.  “Gonna be nice ta ride on a train,” she said as she handed Pania her ticket.  The pair walked down the length of the platform to the conductor.  “Be nice fer them horses too, not havin' ta be on the go so much.”

“Aye, give 'em a wee bi' o' a rest,” Pania nodded in agreement.  “'Sides, I've never ridden on one o' these iron 'orses b'fore.  Be a nice experience ta say the least.”

“You gonna write a sonnet 'r opus 'bout it?” Shani asked with a teasing grin.

“Ye never know,” Pania replied.  “Tha' migh' jus' be a good idea.” The pair continued talking about the concept of trains and how they might make life much easier on their home world, a pair of eyes watched them from the window of a darkened passenger car.

[Black Bowman]

Part Two

Reverend Carter Stewart sat in his train compartment, reading from the Bible he carried faithfully with him.  The book had become an old friend to him, and a reminder of his younger days as a gunslinger.  Finding this worn book changed his ways, and he vowed only to use his pistol in defense of the weak, and only as a last resort.  His imposing frame often times would sway an attacker quickly.

Stewart looked up as the door to his compartment opened.  The conductor peeked inside and quickly apologized for the intrusion.  “Sorry, Reverend,” he stated with a tip of his hat.  “But this car's full up and there's not many more compartments.  Would you mind sharing with these two ladies?”

“Of course not,” Stewart replied with a smile as he rose to his feet.  He held the door open as a pair of diminutive women made their way into the compartment.  He took note of each in kind; both were short and seemed slight of build, but graceful at the same time.  The dark haired one was a little rougher around the edges, while the blond seemed more debonaire.  “Good afternoon, ladies,” Stewart greeted them with a tip of his hat.

“Oh my,” Pania said with a smile and responded in kind.  “Thank ye kindly, sir.”

“No thanks necessary, ma'am,” Stewart replied as he waited for the two to take their seats.  He took note each carried two pistols, the blond also carried a rapier.  “If you don't mind my sayin', you two seem like you've been travellin' a great deal.”

“Well, I guess ya could say thet,” Shani remarked as she settled in.  She took her hat off and tussled up her hair a bit.  This action revealed to Stewart the dark haired gunslinger's heritage, and at the same moment, Shani took note of the priest's collar around Stewart's neck.  “Jist ta let ya know, we ain't demons 'r nuthin'.”

Stewart chuckled a bit and shook his head.  “And whatever possessed you to make that remark?”

“It's cause o' the ears,” Pania replied quickly as she grabbed hold of one of Shani's long, elven ears.  The lithe gunslinger furrowed her brow and made a painful cry as she gave Pania a swat on the arm.  The elven bard only chuckled lightly.

“I had noticed,” Stewart chuckled as he watched the pair.  He assumed they were adults, but acted like children in some way.  “But it's not my place ta say.  I cannot judge someone I don't know.  It does make me a bit curious.”

“We're elves,” Shani explained without hesitation.  “Ya know, fae folk, faeries an' the like.  Ifn ya don't mind my sayin', usually men o' the cloth tag us as bein' demons 'r devils.”

“Most men, whether they are of the cloth or not, have a tendency of misinterpreting what they see,” Stewart explained with a smile.  “I only see more of God's creatures, put on this Earth.  And admittedly, I have seen you before.  And have heard of you.”  He arched an eyebrow and smiled as Shani and Pania shared a worried look between each other.  “Neither of you need worry.  I have come to find most stories on wanted posters are just that; stories.  I speak from experience, of course.”

Pania took note of the gun belt that lay on the Reverend's hip, and believed he spoke the truth.  Still, she extended her hand in greeting.  “Ye may call me Pania Alow,” she stated with a broad smile.

“Reverend Carter Stewart,” he replied as he took her hand in his, not in a firm grip, but one that displayed his kindness in greeting.  He extended his hand to Shani in turn.

“I'm Shani,” the elven gunslinger announced without hesitation and clasped his hand, giving a firm grip and a good pump in her greeting.

“May I enquire as to your destination, ladies?” he asked as he sat back in his seat.  The conversation paused as they heard the bellowing of the conductor announcing all to get on board.  A few seconds later, the train lurched forward and slowly began to increase in speed.

“We're 'eadin' up north,” Pania explained as they settled back into their seats.  “Inta the British Territories, an' may'ap from there 'omeward.”

“I'm headin' north myself,” Stewart stated with a firm nod.  “There's a parish near Battleford that I hope to join.  Maybe there I can finally put to rest this cold iron that's weighed me down for so long.”

“I gots ta say, yer the first person 'round here thet ain't been real eager ta draw pistols,” Shani observed with a nod.  “Most people we run inta jist wanna challenge someone ta a standin' fight in the street.”

“I don't find the need for it anymore,” he said with a smile as he held up the worn book in his right hand.  “I've found my peace, and moved on with my life.  I can only pray that others can do the same.”

“Tha's very noble o' ye, Reverend, I mus' say,” Pania said with a grin.  “There's no' many like ye 'round, tha's fer certain.”  She looked to Shani who just rolled her eyes and slowly rose to her feet.  “Where ye off ta?”

“I heard there were a decent dinin' car on this here train,” Shani announced as she opened the door to the cabin.  “I plan on gittin' me some grub.”

“An' a wee shot o' whiskey, no doubt,” Pania remarked with a teasing gesture.

“Maybe,” Shani merely shrugged as she let the elven bard's jibes roll off of her.  “I am a bit peckish, thet ain't no lie.”  She turned to Stewart and gave a nod and a smile.  “Reverend.  Ifn y'all excuse me.”  Shani turned on her heel and shut the door to the compartment as she moved toward the rear cars.  She passed by several other passengers as she moved to the next car, nodding politely as she went.  They nodded in kind and smiled pleasantly, something Shani found with each person.  A touch unnerving for her, as she'd come to distrust most humans on this world.

As she reached the door to go to the next car, she stopped.  There was a feeling at the base of her skull that something wasn't right.  In the next car, she took note that all the windows were darkened, letting no light in at all.  Which wasn't that different from the car she was in.

She looked back to the windows.  All the blinds had been closed, the only light came from the lamps that rocked back and forth on the walls of the car.  Then she took note of the passengers.

They all looked at her, and smiled toothy smiles.

“Crap on a stick,” she spat out quickly as a hand reached her Colt.  “Well dangit all!  It would haveta be vampires on this train.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Three

“If ye dunna mind me sayin' so,” Pania mentioned with a smile as she looked Carter Stewart directly in the eyes.  “Ye've a very liberal view.  Rather refreshin' ta see a man o' the cloth tha' dunna condemn those tha're diff'rent.”

“Well,” Carter began with a small smile of thanks and a chuckle.  “As the good book teaches judge not lest ye be judged.”  His smile remained but his words became rather somber and serious.  “I believe that the words of the Bible are words not only to read but those ta live by.”

“So why the gun?” Pania asked as she motioned to the gun belt that hung on Carter's hip.

He looked down and removed his hand from the belt, an involuntary action that he had grown so used to.  “An old relic from a time long gone.  I used ta be a gun fighter, a mercenary for hire that would track down those who would willingly take lives.  But I began to realize that the more I worked, the more I became just like those outlaws.  So much blood and death.”

“So why keep it?” she asked in a voice that was almost a whisper, her words more curious than uplifting like her usual attitude.

Carter managed a smile as he looked to Pania.  “Ta toss it aside is ta forget that time.  I can't forget it, it was a part of my life for so long.  I don't keep it as a trophy like some would think, but I keep it as a reminder of man's tools and how they can be used to cause pain and death.”

“Well 'en, if ye dunna mind me sayin' tha's quite admirable,” Pania said with a nod and a smile.  Her features changed dramatically as she heard a shot ring out.  Carter Stewart heard it too, looking toward the entrance to their cabin with a furrowed brow.  Pania sighed slightly as her shoulders sunk.  “I bloody 'ope tha' Shani's no' in some kinda trouble,” she said as she rose to her feet.  Carter also rose, but he sensed something different from just the wild heart of an elven gunslinger.

*****

Shani fired as two vampires lunged at her, slowing them only a little.  She cursed as her eyes searched for some other weapon to use, and hoping for an opening that would give her a brief moment to load silver bullets into her twin Colts.  There were fifteen in the passenger car, which brought up several red flags; how did they get on the train, who was responsible for this, and how quickly could she dispatch them before they overwhelmed her.

Those questions left as she heard the first click from her pistols.  Empty.  “Crap on a stick!” she shouted out, readying each gun to use as a club if necessary.  The vampires took note of her predicament and smiled with glee.  There was nowhere for her to run now.

Just as Shani believed the end was in sight, one of the vampires burst into flame.  Not from sunlight, as the windows had still been boarded up.  She heard the incantation and smiled as she knew what it was, and then saw Pania at the other end of the passenger car, slinging small flares of fire at the vampires.  Behind Pania stood the imposing figure of Carter Stewart.  His gun remained in its holster, but in his right hand he held his Bible.  This was when both elves witnessed a miracle they had never before seen since their arrival on Earth.

“Ye though I walk through valley of the shadow of death,” Carter's voice rang out bold as he held the book high.  “I shall fear no evil!”  It was working.  As the gunslinger turned reverend spoke the passage, the vampires doubled over in pain, eventually withering away into nothing as all they could do was scream in pain as the words were spoken.

Shani pushed one of the vampires away as it's body began to decay quickly, the elven gunslinger moving quickly to stand with Pania and Carter.  Both elves knew what was happening, they'd seen it before on Terra-Kal, but never here on Earth.  As the last of the vampires began to cease all movement and sound, Pania looked to Carter.

“Ye said tha' ye've no' killed anyone in a few years,” Pania stated with some sense of awe and wonder in her voice.  “I'd suspect tha' it's been a lot longer 'n tha'.  An' I'd go so far as ta say the las' time ye drew yer gun, it werena 'gainst 'umans."

Carter sighed openly as he placed the book back into his coat pocket.  Shani looked over the man again with a new respect.  This wasn't just some reverend who spouted rhetoric from the pulpit in fire and brimstone.  She finally began to recognize the things he wore, that they held a great deal more meaning than what people might expect.

“Yer a paladin,” Shani stated with a nod.  “Ain't ya?  A holy knight, born ta take on the likes o' these.”

Carter considered Shani's words for a moment before speaking.  “I suppose a knight might be a close description.  An' born ta it, I doubt that.  But I do seek out the evils o' the world while I try to help my fellow man build a life of righteousness for himself an' his family.”  He took note that both elves were looking at him a little strangely.  He chuckled as he spoke again.  “Can I ask why the look you two're givin' me?”

Shani and Pania blinked in response, unable to find the words.  Finally, Shani let go of a breath it seemed she'd been holding before she encountered the vampires in the passenger car, and spoke.  “My... my brother's a paladin.  He do the type o' stuff you do.”

Pania perked an eyebrow and looked to Shani with a somewhat baffled look.  Shani looked back and shrugged lightly.  “Ye'll 'aveta pardon us, Reverend,” Pania said as though to break a forthcoming uncomfortable silence.  “Shani, an' meself, really.  Well, we're no' familiar wit' seein' this kinda act on this planet.  'R this kinda man wha' can...”

Her small speech was cut short as one vampire who managed to survive crawled up and laughed aloud.  “You'll never stop my mistress, you know,” he spat out in a sickening sneer.  “At this very moment she lay in wait in the luxury car.  And meanwhile, this train will soon be ours.”  He lunged forward, fangs bared as he meant to overpower the diminutive bard.  But for her size, she was fast and well versed with her rapier.  She drew it quickly as she muttered an incantation.  As the vampire impaled himself on the blade, it glowed with magical flame and eventually consumed the vampire, turning him to dust.

Pania looked to Shani and Carter as she sheathed her blade again.  Carter arched an eyebrow as he studied her for a moment, but all Pania could do was shrug.  “I've knowledge o' the arcane, meself.  Bu' anyway...”  She looked to Shani as a thought came to mind.  “Where were the only other place we met vampires 'ere?”

Shani furrowed her brow and snorted a laugh as though she began to realize.  “Back in Pennsylvania.  Ya figger thet Ya'Row come back fer revenge.”

“It's possible,” Pania admittedly resigned herself to say.

“No matter what,” Carter finally said in a calm voice.  “We have a duty to do.  I'll head to the engine an' see 'bout clearin' the rest o' these scum off this train.  I wouldn't mind havin' an extra gun hand like yaself, Miss Shani.”  Shani nodded quickly as she reloaded her Colts.  Carter looked to Pania with a soft smile.  “Do you think you can deal with this vampire while we're gone?”

“More 'n capable,” Pania said with an assured nod.  “Like ta put tha' witch back in the ground.”

With those words the three went their separate ways to deal with the evil that had begun to fester on the train.

[Black Bowman]

Part Four

Pania walked slowly through the passenger cars of the train, leading herself closer to the rear car. Ya’Row had positioned herself in a way where she would take over the train and surprise the next stop which was on the line. Pania knew that this vampire had to be stopped, and while she pulled courage within her, there was that fear; she could very well die tonight.

Each passenger car she went through became darker and darker. Pania knew she was coming closer to Ya’Row. Unlike their brief meeting in Pennsylvania, Ya’Row knew very well who she was up against. Both Pania and Shani had made names for themselves, sometime it was a blessing, but in this case it could very well be their downfall.

Earth had a folklore of vampires, Pania had seen it in that small village near Harrisburg. As the world moved forward, those folklore had become myths and legends, and even mere stories to scare children into behaving. The same too could be said of the elves. Pania and Shani were oddities, often their appearance seen as demonic. That could be further from the truth.

While they may have run wild through the United States, they still held a firm moral code, even if that code pitted them against the likes of Captain Williams. Pania thought of these things as she gripped her rapier tightly in her hand. Every so often she would be faced with another of Ya’Row’s newly created brood, finding them easy to dispatch. Weak were these vampires, nothing compared to their mistress that created them.

As Pania moved into the final car on the train, she felt a weight on her shoulders, filled with dread and uncertainty. Ya’Row was here. She could feel it. Pania’s elven eyes explored the darkness, being able to see better than a human, but still forced to squint into the black. All that she prepared could not prepare her for what was to come.

“Ah!” a voice hissed from the darkness. “Finally we meet.” Pania couldn’t see Ya’Row, but her voice held a sickening smile, as though she was measuring Pania and preparing her to become her latest victim. “You caused me a great deal of pain, little one. I’m sure that you expect me to return the favour.”

“Oh, I think I’m no’ yet done dealin’ ye some pain,” Pania replied through gritted teeth as she held the rapier firm. “Whyn’t we get a look at ye. Come outta the dark, an’ stop bein’ a coward.”

*****

The gunfire filled the car as Shani placed well aimed bullets into the attacking brood. Behind her Carter Stewart did not draw his gun but spouted the words he had taken so close to his heart. Shani knew within the short time that she had met Stewart that he was a true believer in the words that were printed in the Book. More so than any other man of the cloth she had ever met. He did not judge those he met on face value; he could sense evil as though it were a blinding light; he had a humble nature about him and considered the well being of others above himself.

In those ways, Shani believed Carter Stewart was the first Earth born paladin she’d ever met. Right down to the effectiveness of her bullets as they flew to their targets. Before they began moving, Shani had taken out both Colts and held them in her open hands. “It probably ain’t nuthin’ ever been asked o’ ya,” she had said as she looked directly at him. “But I know thet there’s somethin’ in ya thet can tip the scales ‘gainst these vermin. I ask thet ya jist bless my shootin’ irons.” Carter was a bit mystified by the action, but did as Shani asked.

Whether it was the words of God or the skill that Shani had as a gunslinger, or even the desperation of the moment, but whatever it was the vampire spawn fell easily to them both. Only once did Carter draw his pistol.

The loud crack as the report came from the gun shocked even Shani as she looked to Carter with shock filled eyes. The sound was like the heavens themselves had opened up. Even the vampires seemed to reel back, writhing in pain as the bullets from the preacher’s gun cut into them. Finally the last of the brood that stood before them had been cut down and they made their was to the engine. They had climbed through baggage cars, livestock cars and more, fighting as they went.

Shani hoped that their work had not been in vain.

As they broke down the door to the main engine, both the engineer and conductor turned, ready to attack, but stopped suddenly as though they sensed something about these two. The conductor recognized the figure of the man that was Carter Stewart, and seemed to relax a great deal. “Thank god,” the conductor exclaimed. “We were both beginning to think this entire train had gone mad.”

“Aye,” the engineer agreed with a nod. He was a burly man with a massive red beard and clean shaven head. “The train’s been bloody well cursed, I tell ya.”

“Not cursed,” Carter stated in a calm voice. “But there is an evil aboard that must be stopped.”

“An’ just exactly what’re ya plannin’ on doin’ ’bout it?” the engineer retorted in his gruff manner.

“We’re hopin’ thet my partner’s got thet covered,” Shani replied as she emptied her pistols and began reloading. Her gaze drifted through the door that she and Carter had just burst through. “I jist hope thet she’s alright.”

“The best we can do right now, is pray,” Carter stated as he took a deep breath and began his own silent prayer, hoping that it would aid the elven bard as she faced the villainy that was Ya’Row.

[Black Bowman]

Part Five

Pania's eyes adjusted to the light as she muttered an incantation.  A small glowing orb appeared beside her, granting a soft illumination of the darkened caboose.  She saw that the windows had been completely covered, blocking out any light from the outside world.  There were a few artifacts that she knew were not common with any rail cars she'd ever heard of or seen before.  They were too familiar, something that could only be equated with the vampire mistress that stood in the centre of the car.

The smile Ya'Row held as she watched Pania held a great deal of malice.  Against her pale skin and gothic clothing, it gave way to a very sinister look.  Yet, there was one thing that seemed to scream out from Ya'Row's appearance.  A small splash of colour that came from a pin the vampire wore to hold her cloak in place.  A single scarlet rose.

“I recognize tha' symbol,” Pania muttered, more to herself than to Ya'Row.  “Those were 'anded out ta the knights o' the Order o' the Scarlet Rose.”

“Quite astute of you, Miss Alow,” Ya'Row replied with a bold voice.  “You've taken after your parents quite well.”  She snickered a bit as she saw the incredulous reaction on Pania's face, and then continued.  “Oh, I know you.  And I know your partner Shani.  When I began to hunt you both, I noticed the wanted posters.  You two have made a name for yourselves on this planet.  In much more a way than I ever could.”

“Bu' 'ow...” Pania began, only to be quickly interrupted.

“Centuries ago, I knew your parents,” she explained to Pania.  “Even before you and Shani were born.  You see, I was something of their mentors.  They looked up to me.  But then, I had made a name for myself, becoming the first elven female to attain the stature of a knight of the Order of the Scarlet Rose.”

“Cassandra Felegio,” Pania gasped as she recognized the tale.  This knight had been heralded as a champion.  “Bu' Cassandra fell in battle.  Fightin' 'gainst an evil tha' threatened Terra-Kal.”

“I did, yes,” Ya'Row replied, all the while moving closer to Pania.  “And Terra-Kal was saved, obviously.  But I didn't fall, so much as rise in power.  You only know a little of the tale, Pania Alow.  You only know what the scholars and historians of the great Stonebridge Library want you to know.  But then, I doubt even they know the full story behind what happened that fateful day over one hundred years ago.”

*****

South of Arcanum Bridge, Season of the Sun, Terra-Kal

The trio of riders brought their horses to a quick stop as they neared the border of the war like Myst Elves.  The three were unmistakable in their armour, brightly coloured with gold and red, each one wearing a scarlet rose pin against their cloaks.  Dispatched from nearby Arcanum Bridge, they were not sent out to deal with Myst Elf skirmishes; such a duty would be commissioned to rank and file Patrolers.

These were different.  These were the Knights, a higher order of protectors that dealt with much graver incidents than those of small thefts.  From time to time, Knights would oversee investigations, but more often than not they were dispatched to aid in matters that threatened all of the continent, including the citizens of the Myst Lands.

Among these Knights was an oddity; Cassandra Felegio.  The first woman to be elevated to the station of Knight, she commanded respect wherever she went.  There were those who gave her great respect, but there were still those that did nothing to hide their contempt for her.

Both of those factors could have been the reason why the Order of the Scarlet Rose ordered Cassandra and her companions with this most serious of missions.  Reports had come in from farmers along the border that regular attacks had been made.  At first it was believed to be small skirmishes put together by the Myst Elves, but that soon changed as Patrolers began to find the mutilated bodies of young victims.  Consolers were dispatched quickly to deal with the situation, as each victim had been found completely drained of blood.  In a pair of instances, the victims rose from their resting place, forcing the Consolers to deal with them immediately by returning them to their eternal rest.

It meant only one thing; a vampire had risen to terrorize the populace.

This suspicion became confirmed when reports of attacks against Myst Elf communities along the border began.  Similar victims were found, and for a time, an unsteady peace had been forged between the great city of Arcanum Bridge and the Myst Elf strongholds to the south.  It would only be a matter of time before that peace was shattered, either with the death of the vampire, or the continued terrorism of the undead lord.

Cassandra lead her companions through the thick forests to the south of Arcanum Bridge.  If need be, battle mages could be summoned from the school housed within the walls of the city.  Cassandra was confident that only three would be enough to take down this creature.  After all, she had the Shining Lady looking down upon her and offering her blessing.  The further south the trio went, the more the mists began rolling in.  The forming mists were perfect for brigands to attack or even the vile Myst Elves to take down quarry.  But word had come down from the capital that no Myst Elf scouts would attack the roads.  These knights had clear passage, and only a vampire to deal with.

As they pushed on, the air grew still and the very forest grew quiet, as the leaves didn't even more with the wind.  Something unnatural was in the area, and that meant they were close to their quarry.

“Keep a sharp eye,” Cassandra said in a confident voice to her companions.  She drew her blade as she looked around the forest with her keen eyes.  “Should either of you...” Her words were cut short as one of her companions screamed out as though caught in a trap.  Cassandra and her remaining companion searched the area, but could not find any sign of either their friend or the attacker.  Quickly, the pair dismounted, holding firm to their shield as they brandished long blades.  “Come out, you coward!” Cassandra shouted out to the darkness that surrounded them both.  “Show yourself!”

Her words were answered with a gurgling sound followed by a thud as a body hit the ground.  Her remaining companion now lay dead, but this time, the vampire revealed himself.

“This was all too easy,” he said softly with a voice that seemed to sooth, yet was filled with bile.  “I was hoping for more of a challenge.  At least, that was what I was promised.”  He chuckled lightly as he saw the look on Cassandra's face, her frame frozen in place by his presence.  “I can see that you are rather confused, so allow me to inform you of what has happened.  Your magistrate doesn't like you.  As a matter of fact, you claimed the prize that had been sought by his son.  He wants to be rid of you.  So, he came to me with an offer.  I had no idea that I would be travelling across the very cosmos itself to get here and meet you.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassandra forced herself to say.

The vampire chuckled lightly again and began his explanation.  “I'm not an elf.  Even being a vampire, I'm not originally an elf.  I'm ... rather, I was a human.”  He waited and watched Cassandra before continuing.  “Your magistrate found a celestial door, as he called it, that brought him to my world.  A tiny blue planet called Earth.  Mind you, where I come from, they are so backwards that they cannot conceive of the wonders of the universe.  Many of them continue to argue whether or not Earth actually is the centre of the universe or not.  I, however, know it is not.  Such was revealed to me when I was turned.”  He studied Cassandra for a long while, gauging her reaction, and spoke once again.  “What your magistrate does not know is what I have planned.  Come with me, Cassandra.  Join me, and return to my world, and I'll show you wonders you could never imagine.”

Cassandra panted heavily, her heart raced as she willed herself to stay, but fear creeping into her being.  This vampire had just told her that her superiors had ordered her dead.  At least one, with his jealousy, wanted to be rid of her.  “I trust in the Shining Lady.  I shall see you destroyed.”

Again, the vampire chuckled.  “I can hear the fear in your voice.  I can hear your heart race.”  With each word he took a step closer to her until her was only a foot away, his gaze mesmerizing her.  “And I will take that which I want.”  He closed the gap and opened his mouth to feed, his fangs dripping with excitement.

But he did not anticipate the paladin's next move.

As he began to drink from her, she found her strength and drove her holy blade through his chest, in one last attempt to keep her purity.  As he drained her completely of her life blood, the blade destroyed him, as it's very pure essence ate away at his form.  The damage had been done, however.  Cassandra lay dead at his feet, as the wind would soon scatter the ash that was this Earthly vampire.

*****

On board a train bound for St. Paul, Minnesota, October 1863

“The next morning,” Ya'Row said in a whisper.  “I sought out the gates that lead to this world.  I renounced my faith, having felt betrayed by the order.  And I began to seek out this new power I had acquired.”

“But... ye kept the pin given ta all in the order,” Pania forced herself to say, finding her eyes were difficult to focus and it felt as though a weight was on her shoulders..

“Oh yes,” Ya'Row agreed, suddenly behind Pania, as a cold hand wrapped around her waist.  “I did indeed keep it as a memento of that which had been the true deceiver.  Now, little elf.  Are you ready to taste that which was given to me.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Six

Shani reloaded her pistols as Carter watched the entryway of the engine.  The engineer kept the coals burning as he focused on keeping the train moving as the conductor watched the pair of gunslingers.  The lithe elf took a deep breath and looked to the others for a brief moment.  Pania had been gone a long time, and Shani was starting to worry.

“Panny's been gone a long time,” Shani mused as she looked to Carter.  His face held it's stoic nature, but there was concern in his eyes.  “I'm goin' back ta check on 'er.”  She holstered her shooting irons and began to walk toward the coal car, stopping only as the conductor began to protest.

“But what about us,” he announced more than asked in a nervous voice.  “I'm no gun fighter.  And no offense to the reverend, but two gun hands are better than one.

Shani looked to Carter with a grin then back to the conductor.  “I figger thet Reverend Stewart here is better 'n ten gun hands.”

Carter dismissed the comment with a small chuckle, then turned his attention to the task at hand.  “What do you plan on doin', Miss Shani?  There could be more o' them thralls in the passenger cars.”

“Inside, sure,” Shani called back as she climbed onto of the coal car.  “Them thet 're turned won't be able ta walk in the sunlight.  I'm hoofin' it on top o' the train.  Maybe I kin hear some fightin' an' peg where Girly girl's at.”  She offered a wave of her hand and began to climb onto the car as Carter murmured a silent prayer.  Hopefully, it would be seen fit to grant the righteous the might to put down this evil once and for all.

Shani climbed from car to car, moving slowly so as not to lose her footing.  The train rumbled along the tracks, keeping it's speed constant as the engineer continued to stoke the fires.  Shani hoped that her treacherous walk would not be met with unneeded peril.  She was not surprised as she saw one of the thralls crawling onto the roof of the first passenger car.

“Ya know,” Shani shouted out as she drew her Colts.  “This'd been a whole lot easier ifn ya jist kept yer butt in the train.  Now ya gotta come up here an' start yer fussin', an' I'm jist gonna have ta kick ya off o' this here train.”  The thrall only grinned with glee as he began to approach Shani.  She took note of the look in this one's eyes, nearly vacuous, but holding some intelligence.  Not fully turned, but kept to protect the vampire mistress during the light of day.  “I kin tell y'all ain't too bright,” Shani huffed as she raised her pistols.

Two reports sounded out, striking the thrall dead centre.  The creature clutched at his chest and fell to his knees as Shani advanced.  “Yer ticket ain't valid on this here train,” she said as she gave the thrall a boot to the head, and watched as he fell to the ground.  Shani didn't stop to see if he'd fallen under the wheels or not.  She had a purpose and that was to reach the car that Pania was in.

Shakily, she continued her long walk, unimpeded by any other thrall.  She didn't need any further interruptions.  As she neared the caboose, she took note of the windows.  They were heavily blacked out, but not boarded up.  A good chance that she could shoot the windows out.  As she checked her pistols again, she caught the sound of steel on steel, and a smile formed.  The elven bard had more than once surprised Shani, and now she heard the sounds of a definite duel.  It was time to even the odds.

*****

Pania raised her rapier and parried an incoming blow from Ya'Row's gladius.  Ya'Row seemed frustrated, anger more than evident in her eyes.  Blow for blow, Pania parried like an expert swordsman, each thrust giving her more and more confidence.  The elven vampire, however, was becoming more and more angry.

“How?” she cried out as she swung out at Pania, only to find the bard's rapier ready to push aside the assault.  “No one has ever been able to resist my charms!  How is it, a young snipe such as you are able to do so?”

“I've go' talent,” Pania smirked as she moved into her defensive stance.  “I also read me 'istory.  At one time, I wanted ta be just like ye.  I wanted ta learn how ta be the swordsman tha' ye'd b'come.  I wanted ta rise in the ranks an' become tha' which ye 'ad.  Fer years, ye were my hero!”

“And now,” Ya'Row responded with a sickening sneer.  “What do you think now?”  She thrust her blade forward, only to find the bard's rapier easily stopping the attack.  “Now that you know how the magistrates back-stabbed me.  They'd only do the same to you!”

“Oh, I've no doubt there 're them tha' would b'come jealous,” Pania retorted with a laugh.  “Bu' the diff'rence is, instead o' givin' up, I'd prove 'em wrong.  It's all 'bout faith.  An' in truth, Cassandra, I dunna want ta be you.  I want ta be better 'n you!”  As though Pania's remark needed further exclamation, the report of a pistol sounded out, followed quickly by the shattering of glass.  The bard smiled as she knew that Shani wasn't far, proving her guess correct as she overheard the exuberance of the elven gunslinger as she gave out a few war whoops.  Sunlight streamed into the caboose, forcing Ya'Row back.  Another report from Shani's pistols shattered another window, and Ya'Row had to retreat further.

“Time ta turn the tides on this here little adventure,” Shani shouted out as she managed to kick in the door to the caboose.  “We got us a vampire ta destroy!”

[Black Bowman]

Part Seven

Nearing St. Paul, Minnesota, October 16, 1863

Ya'Row tucked herself into the darkest corner of the caboose as sunlight streamed into the cabin.  During the fight with the bard, she'd let her guard down, only focusing on one target, not realizing that Shani would be close behind.  A report sounded out from Shani's long barrel Colt, and a lantern fell to the floor, kerosene spilled across the boards and the lighted wick began to hungrily feed off the liquid.  Ya'Row was not only trapped in the corner, but a possible escape route had been cut off, as flames rose up between her and the two elven adventurers.  She let out an ear splitting scream, frustrated that her prey was cut off, and also from her own fear being put forcibly on display.

The flames feed off the kerosene and began using whatever fuel was left, which meant the rest of the flammable structure of the caboose.  Smoke began to billow out of the windows as seats, boxes, drapes, and wood began to light on fire.  Shani grabbed Pania's arm and began to drag her back to the door, but the elven bard resisted, as she dove for an object just outside of the flames.

During the fight with Ya'Row, Pania managed to cut loose the intricate pendant, sending it flying to the floor.  Not only was this pendant a part of history, but for Pania it held deeper meaning.  A reminder to never give up.

“Git yer britches in order,” Shani spoke in a hurried tone as Pania rejoined her.  “We gotta cut this car loose.”  The pair exited through the door, Pania moving to the doorway of the next car as Shani began working on the clamp that held the caboose in place.

Ya'Row could only watch as flames grew higher.  She watched as Shani's lithe fingers worked over the mechanism that held the two cars together.  She heard the groan as the clamp was released, and felt the caboose lurch as it now rolled of its own free will, but without the forward motion of the engine, the wheels turned slower and slower.  The train in front began to grow smaller and smaller as Ya'Row saw both elves give one last look before moving into the passenger car.

Shani heaved a sigh as she brushed down her long coat.  Pania watched for a moment longer as the caboose burst into flames, fully engulfed now.  The burning car became smaller and smaller, until it was only a brightly burning dot in the distance.  This unexpected adventure was finally over.

“Whaddya think o' trains now?” Shani said with a small huff as she took out her whiskey flask and downed the remainder of it's contents.

Pania studied the rose in her hand for a moment before looking up to Shani with a small smile.  “I found it kind o' enlightenin'.”

*****

“I hope you two find what you need ta find,” Carter Stewart stated with a smile.  He removed his stetson and offered a small bow to the two elves as they gathered their belongings and looked over their horses.  “It gives me a good feelin' ta know that there are those out there willin' ta face the evil that exists, and try ta put a stop ta it.”

“He... heck, Reverend,” Shani said with a grin as she corrected herself.  “I'm jist glad ta know thet this here world's got it's own paladins.”  Carter smiled before wordlessly offering a wave and moving on.  Shani mounted her horse and leaned back in the saddle as she watched Pania finish collecting her things.  “Whaddya figger, maybe a day 're two ta find this place thet sent a lich after us?”

“Oh, maybe less time,” Pania replied as she slid into her saddle.  She adjusted her hat for a moment, and took note of the people around her.  Suddenly, she became very interested in one group on horseback.  “Shani,” she said in a quiet whisper.  The elven gunslinger looked in the direction Pania was and sighed heavily.

“We jist can't git a break, kin we?” Shani huffed as she grabbed the reins and prodded her horse Gipsum into motion.  “Afternoon, Captain Williams,” she called out to the soldiers that sat in their saddles, watching the two elves intently.  “So y'all ready fer a ride?”

There's a train a comin' There's a train a comin'
Hear them tracks a hummin' There's a train a comin'

lyrics from Mystery Train Part II as performed by Steve Earle

[Black Bowman]

Shot Down, In a Blaze o' Glory

Part One

Just outside Thief River Falls, Minnesota, October 18, 1863

Glass shattered and fell to the cold, wood floor as gun shots sounded out.  The pair of elven gunslingers ignored the discomfort of the cold and returned fire with vigour.  Pania loaded her Winchester and took several careful shots through the now broken window.  They had found this small, abandoned cabin as they made their way north, hoping to reach Lake of the Woods.  But Captain Williams had been hot on their trail.  Somehow, he had received word the pair had returned to the Union  and the chase began once again.

The two elves took turns returning fire as they would stop to reload, all the while attempting to devise some sort of plan of escape.  All hope appeared to have gone out the window as Williams' men surrounded the secluded cabin.  There had to be at least fifty men with him, a formidable force for just two gunslingers.  But their fame, or rather their infamy, had spread throughout the Union.  Shani sneered as she thought of the dime store novels, wishing that they had never been written.  Since they had teamed up, she found that there were new dime store novels, exaggerating even more of what they had done, and making them out to be cold killers.

Perhaps teaming up with Pania had been a mistake Shani often thought.  She'd shake that thought from her mind as she'd realize had it not been for the elven bard, there would have been a few situations where Shani would have been dead.  The same could be said for Pania as well.  Had it not been for the lithe gunslinger, neither of them would be breathing right now.

Presently, that situation appeared to grow less and less likely that they'd walk out of the small cabin.  Indeed, it appeared as though they would be dragged out and tossed into a pine box.

*****

Just outside Thief River Falls, Minnesota, October 20, 1863

Dieter Van Bueren brought the small wagon to a complete stop.  The small trail that brought him here was just wide enough for the horse and wagon.  He didn't know why, but something told him that he needed to travel.  It was just before Christmas, he first received the dream.  An odd one at that.  But it was the elves that had helped the village so long ago.  He had to do something, but he wasn't sure what.  All he really knew was the burned out shack that still seemed to smolder in the cool air.  Dieter looked to the shack with wide eyes, then caught sight of the shell casings that scattered the area.  There was definitely a gun battle here.  Did this have something to do with the elves?

His thoughts were broken as he heard the footfalls of a heavy horse.  Dieter watched quietly as the Clydesdale walked into the clearing, carrying his equally large rider.  He caught sight of a glint of silver, and knew right away, this man was a law man.  Then there was more shuffling as other horses began entering the area.  A dark skinned fellow on a fast mount.  Another law man.  And a small framed oriental man.

The Clydesdale snorted as a stream of vapours escaped his nostrils.  The rider shifted in the saddle and took each new face in kind.  Quietly, he took out his pocket watch and studied it for a moment, then looked to the canopy of the trees that surrounded the small shack.  He took a deep breath and finally spoke.  “I am going to assume that each of you received some kind of... message.”

“Pretty well spoken fer a US Marshal,” the old man said as he dismounted.  Dieter saw the tin star of a Sheriff, but one that was well out of his jurisdiction.  He had the accent and mannerisms of a southerner.  The larger man that sat atop the Clydesdale only chuckled in his response.

“Oxford, in truth,” he replied.  “But then, you're quite educated yourself.  Aren't you, Sheriff Walker.”

“I wager ya already know 'bout that, Marshal Derringer,” he stated before looking to his partner.  To Dieter, it was obvious that these men had some familiarity in the past.  From the way they spoke they didn't necessarily like each other, but they still held some respect for each other.  “Ming, gimme a hand.  I wanna take a closer look.”

Dieter watched as the pair walked toward the shack.  To his right, the dark skinned man sat quietly.  Dieter looked to him and extended his hand in greeting.  “Dieter.  Dieter Van Bueren,” he said in a quiet voice.

The dark man took his hand with a firm grip in reply and nodded.  “Ezekiel Morgan,” he replied simply.

“Well, now that the introductions are over with,” Marshal Derringer said aloud as he dismounted his horse.  “Perhaps we can find out what happened to the last stand of Shani Wennemein and Pania Alow.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Two

Walker picked at the spent shell casings, examining them carefully.  He tossed one to the side and rose to his feet, his left hand never leaving the butt of his Remington.  “Brought in a Gatlin' gun,” he muttered, then looked over to Ming.  The often quiet Chinese man was standing twenty feet from Walker's position, and calmly inspecting a patch of ground.  “Whatcha got, Ming?” he asked as he approached slowly.  Walker saw the piece Ming was looking over, the snow had appeared to have been melted in a perfect circle and the grass had been killed off, permanently.

Derringer approached the pair and inspected the circle a moment, then looked to the canopy of the trees.  “It would appear this has been here for a week,” he mused.

“It should be covered in snow,” Ming finally stated as he finally looked up and studied each old gunslinger.  “Even with the trees, there should be snow.  And look,” he said as he pointed to the snow that surrounded the circle.  “Animal tracks.  They approach, back away, and move around the spot.”  Ming was right.  There were several tracks that had come close to the spot but seemed reel back and head off around it in an erratic fashion.

“Someone directin' Williams?” Walker offered the small suggestion.

Derringer took a deep breath before looking back to the burned out shack.  “Or something,” he finally suggested.

*****

Dieter stood beside the rubble that was the shack and sighed as he looked toward the destruction.  In this small building, the two elves held off a small army.  Bullets ripped into the walls of the building as shots were returned.  Already they had found bullets embedded in the surrounding trees, evidence that the pair did not just hold up and sit tight.  Dieter looked to the ground in front of the small shack and shook his head.  There were spent shell casings all over the ground.  He stopped a moment, as the light seemed to glint off a spot on the ground.

He bent low as he inspected the snow, carefully pushing away the white flakes until he found the object he was looking for.  A silver bullet.  Pure silver.  Carefully, he picked it up and held it in his open palm.  Dieter didn't move even when he felt movement behind, so intent on studying the deformed bullet.

“Whatcha find?” Ezekiel asked in a quiet voice as he crouched down beside the young man.

“I think this is a silver bullet,” he replied, and his comment suddenly became the focus of the others.  Dieter looked up as he saw the others looking right at him, and he explained further his suspicions.  “When Shani and Pania were in our village, they helped rid a clutch of vampire.  I gave Shani a small box of silver bullets.  I think this is one of them.”

The small group was silent for a few moments after Dieter explained.  Finally, Walker shook his head and scoffed.  “Vampires.  Ya tryin' ta tell me that there's such a thing.

“Miss Shani an' Miss Pania an' me, we hadda run from zombies,” Ezekiel quickly explained.  “I ain't never thought they were real, but they were.  If that can happen, may be vampires is real too.”

“I used to think the Huntsman was a mythical creature,” Derringer spoke as he looked to the lawman.  “But he still managed to capture Shani.  Pania managed to tap into the magic of the world to free her.”  Derringer moved forward, stopping in front of Dieter and looked to the bullet in his palm.  “Let us not forget, gentlemen, these two are elves, and one of them managed to contact us.  Through our dreams.”  Walker sighed with the explanation, it didn't exactly sit right with him, but how else could the nature of the two gunslingers be explained.

“So what're ya sayin',” Walker finally asked as he moved closer to Dieter and Derringer.  “That a vampire were here as well as Williams' army?”

“No,” came the soft spoken voice of Ming.  He was still examining the burn mark they had discovered earlier, but now rose to his feet to face the other men.  “Not a vampire.  Something worse.”

*****

Ezekiel Morgan poked at the fire as he tried giving it a bit more life.  The air had grown cooler, and the comfort of the fire was a welcome sight.  After spending several hours exploring the area, they still knew very little about what had happened here.  At least the picture was beginning to come into focus.  Ming had built a fire a few yards away from the shack, and started cooking some food for the others.  Dieter had gathered together some firewood to help keep the warm glow going, as Walker and Derringer kept a close watch on the area.  Something didn't sit well with Walker, this place kept him on edge.

After an hour with no one saying a single word, Walker finally spoke up.

“Lemme get this straight, Marshal,” he said in a slow drawl to the taller of the two.  “Yer tryin' ta tell us that whatever done this, weren't human, but in fact a demon.”  Derringer looked to Walker, studying the man for a moment and nodded his reply.  “Ya realize how farfetched that sounds, right?”

“Sheriff,” Derringer finally spoke in an authoritative voice.  “You say that belief in a demon is farfetched.  Please explain to me the existence of Miss Wennemein and Miss Alow.”  Derringer only watched the old gun hand a moment.  Walker merely rolled his shoulders and gave a low sigh, which allowed Derringer to continue.  “Fey folk, elves-- Some would say impossible.  They don't exist.  But here we are, attempting to solve a mystery of the sudden disappearance of two elves, one of which contacted each of us through a dream.  And I know for a fact, Sheriff Walker, that you would not be standing here right now, if you didn't at least believe in some of that.”

“They acted more human than anyone I know,” Dieter spoke up from the fire.  The pair of gun hands turned back to the fire as the young man spoke.  “After you saw their actions, talked to them, you ignored the obvious differences.”

“Some northerners say that Pennsylvania Dutch lack worldly experience,” Derringer said with a smile.  “Let me say, Mr. Van Bueren, you prove that statement wrong.”  Dieter seemed to blush slightly, and nodded his thanks as Derringer turned back to Walker.  “I'm not planning on leaving here until I find out, for certain, that both of them are still alive.  Or, tragically, if there is enough evidence that they perished.”  Derringer looked back to the shack and began walking toward it with purpose.  “Someone also brought that creature here.  For what purpose, I cannot say, but I will find out.  Of that, you have my word.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Three

South of St. Paul, Minnesota

The mansion was quiet for the late afternoon.  Even as people walked slowly down it's massive hallways.  More like a monastery than an actual home, the building and grounds were kept neat and clean, but with hands that never seemed to know joy, but always tireless work.  There was no happy laughter that filled the halls of the mansion or the grounds.  No smiles, no song.  Even the sun seemed to hide behind clouds whenever it was near.

The family did not care, they had business that needed to be taken care of.  They waited for a sign that the fruits of their labour had been successful.  But this day, they would find that only failure came for them.  Such failure, that a rift would begin to form in the family's hierarchy.  From father to son.

The mansion and grounds was property of an old family, the Mandrakes.  They had settled in the area over one hundred years before.  The line dates back to the time of the Romans.  And they always had influence over governments.  But that had slipped away.  And they fought to keep it any way they could.  However, while the father wished to keep the status quo, the son had more noble pursuits.  The son wished to find ways to perfect the human condition.  Lengthen the life and he had seen it in two travelers.  The father had felt their power, and that was all he coveted.

But now the father tirelessly aided a creature that had limped back onto the grounds, not knowing how such a thing could happen to one such a powerful beast that he had summoned.  With little fan fare, and no words, the father dragged the creature back to its cage, making certain it was first cleaned, and then locked down.  The son, meanwhile, did not keep silent when the creature was under lock and key.

“Father,” he said in a firm tone.  “You realize that this is madness.  That chasing after those two, trying to take their power, will not work.”

The older of the two stared at the other for a good long while.  Finally, he lashed out, a heavy hand catching the son on the cheek.  “Patrick,” he seemed to hiss.  “I will not allow you to speak to me in such a manner.  These are rituals handed down through the ages.  Those two elves will make certain that the grip we had on the government of the day will continue to pass through us.”

Patrick rubbed his cheek as he looked to his father.  He knew for certain now that his father was more than just mad.  “Those days are far gone, father.  We cannot look to those any more.  There are other ways.”

“What ways?” he shouted out, hoping his voice would quiet his son.

“Give in to science, father,” Patrick pleaded while keeping his voice firm.  “These old ways that give into magic that is nearly gone-- It will do nothing at all.”  The older man stared at his son, a look of bewilderment in his eyes.  His own son would say something such as this.

“You believe,” the father spoke quietly as he walked over to a chair, slumping down into it.  “You believe that all this, everything we have worked for, is meaningless?” Patrick nodded slowly, but did not say a word.  “You think me mad?” the father said, his voice raised just a bit as he furrowed his brow.  Patrick was about to speak, but his father dismissed his words with a wave of his hand and continued to speak.  “You make me sick, that you would say something such as this that would dishonour this family.  I will not have any of it, nor will I have you here anymore.  Begone from my sight.  Never darken this door again.”

Patrick stood for a few moments as he allowed the words to sink in.  He knew when his father had spoken, and knew that nothing would change his mind.  “Very well,” Patrick finally said.  “I shall gather my things and be on my way.  For what it's worth, father.  I always believed you to be devote in your beliefs.  I only wished you had the ability to respect someone else's beliefs.”  He never said another word, nor did his father reply.  Nothing more needed to be said.

Father and son would never see each other again.

*****

Just outside Thief River Falls, Minnesota

Derringer studied the ruins much more carefully than before.  There was something that was missing.  They should have found bodies, even if they were burned, but there was nothing.  He pushed aside some of the rubble, his demeanor becoming almost desperate as he began pushing aside fallen timber and charred furniture.  Walker watched for a moment, then something in him realized that Derringer was right.  He shouldn't give up and soon he joined the older gun hand in moving debris.

Both men stopped as they cleared away the floor of the shack.  Both men saw it at the same time.  Walker looked to Derringer, then bent down as he ran a gloved hand over the latches.  It was a trap door, something you normally didn't find in a rustic looking shack.  Wordlessly, Walker pulled up the door and took a look inside.  He laughed aloud as even in the dark, he could tell what it was.  “It's a root cellar,” he informed them.  “An' by the looks o' it, a lot bigger 'n normal.”  He looked up to Derringer and then waved over the others.  “I think we found what mighta happened ta our elves after all.”

*****

Ming held the lantern still as he looked down the long shaft.  It appeared to be an old mining shaft, but as Derringer suggested it may very well be a tunnel that carried a much more valuable resource.  People.  The small group determined this shack was actually an abandoned station in the Underground Railroad.  “Where d'ya think it leads ta?” Ezekiel Morgan asked quietly as he stood beside Ming.

“No idea,” Derringer said as he shook his head.  “But it does confirm one suspicion.  Both elves are very much alive.”  Both Ezekiel and Dieter looked to Derringer as he began inspecting his weapons.  Sheriff Walker had also begun loading his side arms, as his deputy, Ming, began to check the rifle he carried.  There was a feeling of slight relief among them, but they still had one last detail to carry out.

“What'a'ya gonna do?” Ezekiel asked in a meek voice, fear tugging lightly at his mind.

“Ming found a trail outside,” Walker explained as he holstered his Remington.  “Figger it's the thing that chased Pania an' Shani down.  Somebody sent it after 'em.  I plan on findin' the bastards an' teachin' 'em a lesson they ain't never gonna ferget.”

Ezekiel began inspecting his own, crude side arm leaving Dieter to wonder if his own hunting rifle would be up to the task.  He'd never fired the weapon in anger before, always feeling that such things were debasing of mankind.  But now he began to understand the need to go to war at times.  His thoughts came back to the present as Derringer spoke up.  “You two won't be coming with us,” he said in a calm voice as his skilled hands flipped the pistols into their holsters.  Ezekiel only stared in disbelief.  Dieter began to protest, but Derringer cut him short.  “We'll need some sort of back up if we don't come back.”

“He's right,” Walker stated evenly.  “If in two weeks, neither o' ya hear from us, it's up ta you ta follow the trail.  Find what done this.  An' kill it.”

“What do you three plan on doing?” Dieter asked in a quiet voice.

“Ming found a trail that leads ta the south east,” Walker explained.  He holstered his pistol and took a deep breath as he looked to the ever stoic Chinese man.  “Time ta saddle up an' ride.  This thing ends t'night.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Four

The lawmen said their good byes to Ezekiel and Dieter and began the long ride, trying to follow the trail that they had found.  Sometimes it would sneak off and disappear, but they had a tendency to pick it up again quickly.  Ming's keen eye saw to that.  His determination, when he was focused on the task at hand, was unmatched.  The trail they followed lead them south, and the ride was a few days, but they found what they were looking for.  They were just surprised that it would be inside a very elaborate looking mansion.

Derringer and Walker had both heard whispers of the name Mandrake before.  Associated with politicians in both the north and the south.  For Derringer, that name was even heard of across the pond in the nations of Europe.  Walker shifted in his saddle as he prodded the horse forward through the open gates of the estate, his trained eyes watchful of his surroundings.  “How we gonna play this?” he asked with a sigh.  “I am a helluva long way outta my jurisdiction.”

“I'm not,” Derringer replied as he too pushed his horse forward.  “As a United States Marshal, I can claim jurisdiction within another region.”

Walker looked over to the older gun hand and snorted.  “That's a buncha bull, an' you know it.  You can't do a damn thing without informin' local authorities.”

“I would believe that Mandrake does not know that,” Derringer replied with a sly smirk on his face.  The trio did not argue the point any longer, as they brought their horses to a stop in front of the lonely mansion.  No servants came to great them, no calls of welcome from the tenants inside.  Even the grounds looked less than inviting as vegetation crept up the walls of the buildings, covering them in some macabre display.  The three riders dismounted and walked toward the front entrance.  Derringer knocked loudly and waited.  When no response came, he looked back to Walker.

The old grisly gunslinger drew his pistols and shoved the door open with a strong push.  “If we're gonna do this, may as well go all the way,” he remarked as his brow furrowed.  Derringer snorted a chuckle as he drew his own.  Ming had taken out a rifle, opting for the ranged weapon instead of his skill with his fists.  If the creature they hoped to face were anything like Derringer explained, then he'd need to have something that would take it down faster than even his own hands could move.

Inside the mansion was like a tomb.  Their footsteps echoed on the marble floors, no lamps were lit to give the rooms any welcoming glow.  No sounds of people busily scurrying about.  Walker looked to the floor for a moment, stooping to inspect something.  He picked up what appeared to be some dirt mixed with blood and small chunks of wood.  His hand holding a small specimen, he rose to his feet to show Derringer.

“It would appear as though our two elves managed to damage their pursuer,” he said with a small smirk.  He looked to the floor and saw the trail, now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness that was the mansion.  There it was, a trail of blood and dirt, leading them directly where they wanted to go.

“Like the critter ain't even scared,” Walker stated as began following the trail.

“And it's our job to make it feel fear, Sheriff Walker,” Derringer replied as he pushed forward.  His two companions followed wordlessly, knowing full well that bullets were about to fly.

*****

South of St. Paul, Minnesota, October 21, 1863

Derringer stood outside the small doorway.  They followed the trail down into the cellar, past the empty wine racks and into the back storage rooms.  The basement of this mansion was a maze.  Any man could have gotten lost if he didn't have some guide.  The blood trail of an unknown creature was more than enough.  The large man stood by the door, listening intently for a moment, then looked to Walker and Ming.  With only a nod, the two men knew what the plan was.  They had to move fast, let their instincts guide their hands if they in fact had to fire.

Walker stood on one side of the door while Derringer took up position on the other.  Ming was the fastest of the three, he would enter first.  And this time, he would not use the cold, iron weapons that Walker had trained him to use.  The small Chinese man closed his eyes, found his center, and pushed himself forward.  Like a dancer, he crashed through the door, opening his eyes only to find the target and rush forward.

Inside, Mandrake scowled as he tried to administer an alchemical medication to the creature.  These men could not interfere with that.  Mandrake began to speak aloud, trying to conjure, but found his voice gone as Ming knocked the wind from his chest.  The old alchemist fell heavily to the floor as the creature, now stripped of it's robes, roared in pain and anger.  Walker and Derringer had entered the room, firing upon the abomination as Ming forced Mandrake to the ground.

Walker noticed it first and scowled as he looked to Derringer.  “Bullets ain't doin' a damn thing,” he said with a hiss as he holstered his pistols.  “It may be hurtin' it, but it ain't doin' nuthin' more.”

“That would be due to its unworldly origin,” the Marshal replied, holstering his own weapons.  He moved quickly towards Mandrake, fury evident in his eyes.  Ming held the man tightly against the wall as the old werewolf questioned him.  “I doubt that I'll be able to convince you to send whatever that is back to whichever abyss you pulled it from.  So I'll have to do it myself.”

“It would take a man decades to learn such a spell,” Mandrake sputtered in defiance.  “I doubt mere gunslingers could learn it so quickly.”

Derringer leaned in close to Mandrake and sneered as he spoke.  “That is the comment I expect to hear from someone as ignorant as you.”  Derringer got the reaction he wanted; Mandrake suddenly knew there was more to these gunslingers than met the eye.  The Marshal turned to an alter that stood before the creature and chuckled.  “Obviously while you are trying to heal it, you'd need it to be in its summoning circle.  So you could control it.”  He reached out with gloved hands and carefully began to turn the pages of an old tome that lay on the altar.  “And no doubt, everything you need, from summoning to banishing, is right here.”  Derringer looked back to Mandrake for a moment and snorted a laugh.  “Not only ignorant, but arrogant as well.”

“Listen to me!” Mandrake cried out as he struggled against Ming's grip.  “I will pay you anything!  Money, gold, power beyond your imagination.”

“Ya ain't too swift, are ya,” Walker called out as he watched the proceedings.  “This ain't 'bout money 'r power.  Ain't even 'bout justice.  It's 'bout somethin' higher 'n all o' us.  Divine right, as it were.”

“No truer words were spoken, Sheriff Walker,” Derringer said with a loud voice as he turned to look at the creature.  He focused his attention on it while he spoke the words from the book out loud.  The creature howled in protest as the runes in the floor began to glow.  An ethereal prison erected itself around the creature as it writhed in pain on the floor.  It's eyes looked to Derringer, as though begging for mercy.  As the old werewolf continued to recite the words, the creature became violent, thrashing wildly as it tried with vain desperation to save itself.

All for naught.

The resounding cacophony of sound caused Walker and Ming to flinch, this gave Mandrake an out.  But he rushed the circle, hoping to break the boundary and free the creature so it would destroy these men.  Arrogance and ignorance.  Mandrake paid with his life, as the magic from the runes only destroyed him, as it sent the creature back into the abyss.  The sounds in the room grew and grew, a chorus of screams that forced Walker and Ming to find cover, as both expected an explosion to destroy the room.  But as full as the sound became, it suddenly stopped.

Slowly, Sheriff Walker climbed up from his hiding spot and looked to Derringer.  The Marshal breathed heavily as his hands gripped the sides of the altar.  Ming was beside Walker in an instant, making sure the old Sheriff was alright.  Walker only nodded, patting the Chinese man on the shoulder, and informing him to ready the horses.  They were done here, there was no need for their presence anymore in this old, empty mansion.

As Ming left the room, Walker looked to Derringer through narrowed eyes.  “You an' I are gonna have a talk,” he said with words that seemed skeptical, yet in awe of what just transpired.  “Alla this gets explained.”

“Walker,” Derringer said as he pushed himself off the altar and took a deep breath.  “Go back to Oxford.  Go back to your wife and child.  Be a good man.”  The old werewolf straightened the stetson on his head and allowed a small smile to form on his lips.  “Leave all of this behind you.  And leave the business of immortals to me.”

[Black Bowman]

Part Five

Just outside Thief River Falls, Minnesota, October 18, 1864

Shani tossed a battered bookcase in front of the door as Pania checked her ammunition.  The elven bard gave Shani a dejected look and sighed.  Shani knew that they were running out of bullets, and out of time.  Williams had them surrounded.  “Why'd he have ta git all uppity?” Shani sighed as she hunkered down beside Pania and began reloading her Colts.  She took a quick peek outside, making certain to remove her stetson first.  Outside, Williams' men were also reloading and preparing for another volley.  “Godsdammit!  They bringin' out the big guns.”

Pania removed her duster and took peek, grimacing as she saw the Gatling gun dragged into position.  She saw the Gatling gun, but she also saw something else.  “It's tha' bloody bugger in the cloak tha's go' me worried,” she said as she sunk back into her crouched position.  Shani had seen him before, always hanging back, never speaking to the soldiers or Williams.  “I go' a feelin' tha' 'e's jus' an observer.  An' I've go' a feelin' tha' Williams an' 'is men cannu see 'im.”

Shani furrowed her brow and looked to Pania for a moment.  She sighed and shook her head.  “If one o' them bastards from back home d'cided ta follow us an' have some fun, I'll fill the bastard fulla buck an' leave 'im there ta die.”

*****

He stood, watching as the soldiers unloaded their ammunition into the old shack.  Marveled at the efficiency of the violence.  For more than a year he had heard of these two bandits, and had tried so hard to find them.  What luck when he heard not only had they teamed up, but that Captain Williams was on their trail.  All he need do was find Captain Williams, and then let Williams find them.  Their magic had been what had drawn this one out, he craved it, needed it.  Power to add to his own.

But before he took them, he'd force them to take him to their home world, where he could become drunk with the power.  He smiled in the shadow of the hood as he watched the Gatling gun begin to rumble and spew forth it's hot death.  Watched as the bullets ripped into the logs that made up the shack's walls.  Then he reeled back, just a bit, as a bullet ripped into his chest.  There was more shock than pain.  He'd never been hit by a bullet before, it was an odd feeling.  Slowly, he looked back to the small shack.

“That's right, you sonofabitch!” he heard the elven gunslinger shout out in furious rage.  “I see you, ya bastard!  An' I'll send ya back ta hell!”

Inside the shack, Shani and Pania had built up a good enough barricade, but they knew that Gatling would chew through even the thickest logs.  It wouldn't be long.  At timed intervals, they would return fire.  But the cloaked apparition had become a new target.  “Ye think Williams know 'bou' 'im?”

“Not a chance,” Shani replied with a sneer.  “Bastard's keepin' quiet, way too quiet.  Where ya figger he come from?”

“Well, there's rumour o' a spook tha' used ta travel the Marches,” Pania suggested.  “Suddenly jus' disappeared.  Bu' I figure tha' were jus' stories ta ensure the b'haviour o' wee ones.”  She hopped up and took another pair of shots, aiming directly at the apparition, before dropping to the floor once again.  “We're 'ittin' the bugger square, tha's fer certain.”  Pania took another stock of their ammunition as Shani took another peek out the window.

“Gotta try an' tempt the bastard closer,” Shani suggested as she ducked back down, looking to her partner.  “An' maybe this time I'll git a shot point blank in the sonofabitch's face.”

*****

The cloaked figure moved forward, seeming to glide effortlessly over the ground.  If he could be seen by human eyes, they would take note that he was note touching the ground at all.  His focus was on the elves, to obtain their power.  Power that he would have, their life force would sustain him.  And the rest of their essence he would take back to the cult that had summoned him.  They could have what was left.  The bullets from the soldiers guns seemed to pass through him with ease.  The ones fired by the elves, however, were a completely different matter.

Several shots slammed into him, forcing him to stop and wonder just how that could happen.  His form hung in the air as he seemed to contemplate the minor detail, staring at the bullets that had merely fallen from his frame in misshapen lumps.  A shout brought all the answers he needed.

“Tha's righ', ye bastard!” Pania cried out as she fired again and again.  “We can see ye clear as day!”  The creature seemed to scowl in the shadow of the hood, a small hiss escaped his lips as this revelation became all too clear.  A minor inconvenience, really, and so he slowly moved forward.

Inside the shack, the elves took turns firing, as one would fire, the other would reload.  Pania crouched down as she padded down the pockets of her long coat, searching frantically for ammunition.  She stopped as her hand brushed against a small, worn box in her inside pocket.  Shani nearly forgot it in Shreveport.  They'd carried it since Pennsylvania.  Dieter Van Bueren had given it to them.  Quickly, she pulled the box out and opened it, muttering a quiet prayer as she opened it.  Inside lay twelve bullets, enough for her to reload.

“Le's see if these'll stop 'im,” she hissed as she quickly dumped the shell casings and replaced them with the silver bullets.  “Worked fine 'gainst vampires, 'ope it works 'gainst this one.”

Shani sneered as she fired her last bullet into the apparition, and ducked down to reload.  She knew of the item Pania spoke of.  She'd almost forgotten about them.  But now she was glad they still had that small box.  “Give 'em hell, girly girl,” she encouraged the elven bard as Pania rose to her feet and fired directly at the cloaked figure.

A blood curdling scream filled the air as the first bullet slammed into the creature.  It still fell to the ground, but it had done it's damage.  Silver obviously had some effect on this one.  As the second forced the creature back a step, he cried out yet again.  The men behind him had begun to stop firing, and only stared in disbelief.  From the shack, Shani Wennemein called out, her words directed to Williams.  Not in spite, not in a taunt, but in a warning.

“Williams,” she called out from her position.  “I know y'all kin see it.  We ain't the ones ya should be worried 'bout.  It's thet devil o' a thing that ya kin see square.  If ya got any sense 'tall, start firin' on the bastard.  'R we all bound straight fer hell!”

[Black Bowman]

Part Six

Just outside Thief River Falls, Minnesota, October 18, 1863

Captain Williams furrowed his brow as he heard the shouts from inside the small shack.  His men had been relentless in firing upon the structure, and they would take nothing less than a white flag of surrender from the two outlaws.  He had heard the stories of the things these two had done, but he still had his orders and would not back down, disgracing himself and the uniform he wore.  But as the shouts continued he began to watch the area just in front of the shack.  He saw the snow seeming to retreat without cause or reason.  He saw bullets fired from the two outlaws seem to drop in mid air.

Finally, he heard a blood curdling scream.  So did his men.

The shooting stopped as his men looked to him for guidance.  Williams did not hesitate.  “New target, gentlemen.  Open fire!”  The apparition had fully manifested in front of the soldiers, glaring at them in pain and anger, that they would dare to change targets to him.  It screamed in anger, trying to make even the hardiest of men quake in his boots.

Inside the shack, Pania grinned deliciously as both elves realized Williams now saw the apparition fully.  The elven bard grabbed at the bookcases and barrels that made the small barricade at the door and began tossing them to the side.  She loaded her Smith and Wesson's with silver bullets and handed the remaining bullets to her partner.  Shani kicked open the door, waiting just a moment to see if the soldiers would start firing again upon their position.  When it was safe, both elves exited the shack, firing directly upon the apparition with only one goal.

Take it down.

The bullets from the soldiers weapons only angered the creature, as they were more of an annoyance than anything damaging to it.  But it reeled in pain as a silver bullet struck it, howling in agony as the elves kept firing on it.  The creature turned and looked straight into the eyes of the elven bard.  Howling in madness, the creature crew a blade that was as black as pitch and thrust forward.  Pania moved but not fast enough, as the blade's tip buried itself into her shoulder.  She cried out in pain as she felt the life begin to drain from her, the magic of the weapon revealing itself to her.  In one defiant move, she raised the Smith and Wesson she gripped, pointing the business end directly into the hood of the creature and cried out in defiance.

“Burn in 'ell, ye bastard!”  She pulled the trigger as though to put an exclamation mark on her shout.  The bullet disappeared into the blackness of the hood and the creature's head snapped back, his grip still on the blade.  As he fell back, the pain felt from the silver bullet coursing through him, the weapon was freed from Pania's shoulder.  Shani was quick to respond, moving to the bard's side and hauling her up.  She dragged Pania back into the shack as the creature writhed in agony on the ground.  The soldiers continued firing as it tried to escape.

The creature knew that death was close at hand.  In a desperate move, it looked toward the small shack and let out a hiss in anger.  It ignored the bullets as it pushed itself forward.  It only had one thing in mind.  The destruction of both elves.

*****

Pania clung to Shani as they searched the root cellar for some kind of shelter.  They didn't need to search for long.  The little light they had showed them the tunnel entrance.  Shani desperately looked around the small room, looking for some way to stall the creature that chased them, so they could reach safety and work on Pania's wounds.  In the dark light Shani saw it.

She gently placed Pania down on the ground as the elven bard began checking her pistols with her good hand as the lithe elven gunslinger began moving barrels toward the small ladder that lead down into the cellar.  By the smell alone, Shani could tell they were filled with gun powder.  How old it was, she didn't know, but now was not the time to throw out plans.  She built a small barricade and poured a small trail of powder away from the barrels toward the small tunnel.  Once she was done, she helped Pania back to her feet and began moving down the tunnel.  Once they were a good distance back, Shani drew her pistol and took aim on the end of the trail of powder.

Pania raised her weakened arm just slightly as Shani took aim.  The elven bard muttered a few words, timing her spell with the elven gunslinger's motions.  As Shani pulled the trigger, the bullet exploded with an added bonus.  A small cantrip, magical fire that sped along with the bullet.  As the fiery projectile hit the ground, sparks and flame set the powder burning.  There was no argument if the powder was old or not.  It was now burning.  Shani holstered her Colt and helped Pania as the pair moved down the length of the tunnel.

As the powder burned along the trail, the creature was madly trying to force it's way into the cellar.  Like a rabid dog, it was pulling at planks and floor boards, desperately trying to get in.  As the door to the cellar was finally opened with violent purpose, the creature stopped.  It saw the barrels lined up against the ladder, packed together it a ramshackle fashion.  And then it saw the small glowing ball that lead closer and closer to the barrels.

By then it was too late.

Outside, Williams sensed something was wrong.  He could smell the familiar scent of gunpowder, burning as though it were about to explode.  One look to Johnson, and he gave the order.  “Find cover, men!  Now!”  His men reacted quickly, finding a place to hunker down just in time.  As the last man found cover, the building exploded, fire spewed forth, and an ungodly howl erupted from the small shack.  The creature clawed its way out, screaming in pain as it did so.  Williams and his men could only watch as the creature ran past them, it's robes burning as it spewed blackish blood onto the ground.  They were transfixed as it sped off into the forest.  No one said a word until it had completely disappeared, it's screams of pain finally ending.

“Is it dead, Sir?” Johnson asked as he came out of his hiding spot.

“No idea, Private,” Williams replied quietly.  He looked to the shack and watched as the fire fed hungrily on the old wood.  “Let the fire die down, men.  Then we'll search the ruins.”

“You think they...” Johnson began to ask.  He did not receive a reply.  Each men knew in their minds that no one could have survived such an explosion.  Even Johnson realized this.  In a way, even though they had chased these two outlaws for more than a year, they had some respect for them.  They knew in their hearts that everything written on the wanted posters was a bold faced lie.

But now, it didn't matter.