Nightsea Outlaw

Josh lay facedown in the dirt, as did the fifty other slaves around him. Several coyotes patrolled between them, each as large as three full-grown men. Each of them was a shaggy light brown, their mouths hanging open as they panted in the fading heat of the desert day.

"If you stand before the signal, you'll be shot," one deputy said in a booming voice at the edge of the circle of slaves. "Today's a glorious day. Don't ruin the hunt."

Josh had one thought on his mind. His breath came in coughing fits as he took in dust and dirt. Two years. For two years, he had survived working in the mines. He had toiled away after being captured by Goldfist. All he wanted was for his sister to be safe. That was why he had to survive. He would survive this hunt, no matter what. As he lay there, breathing hard in the orange rays of the setting sun, the ground beneath him shook.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Josh knew the noise. His entire body shook, and a fresh wave of sweat covered his back. Whispers around him withered into silence. The coyotes growled and whined.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Alright, maggots. Today is the day you prove your worth to our organization. Today is the day you race to survive. Today is the day you embody what it means to be a true man."

Sheriff Goldfist's voice echoed through the ground, much like his footsteps had just moments before. Josh shook on the ground. Every week, it was the same trial. Every week, he had completed the run. Yet, he was afraid.

"Money and strength. These are the two things that every great man needs. None of you whelps has money, so you have to prove you're strong enough to survive. You have until dusk to reach the mines. Anyone who is caught is too weak to stay in my operation."

No slave moved from the ground. It had been a while since new captives had been added to their group. Every one of them knew what was to come. They were the survivors, after all.

"Deputy Silvertooth, gather the hounds!"

A sharp whistle preceded the patter of paws and claws on dirt. The coyotes romped through the crowd of prostrated slaves, trampling over many without a care. Claws dug into Josh's shoulder with a piercing spike of pain, but he stifled a cry. All survivors knew that showing weakness was death.

He heard the coyotes skitter to a stop far away. That was it. Another run was upon him. Josh closed his eyes. So quietly that only he could hear it, he whispered a prayer to the Scions. He prayed he would be able to stand. He prayed he would not stumble. He prayed someone would come and save him from this madness. Scions above, save him. He had to survive for his sister's sake.

"On my mark." The hammer of a gun clicked, ripping Josh from his prayer.

Bang!

Josh's arm muscles burned as he pushed himself up in a jump. He landed on his feet as many of the others were just getting to their knees. Without a second thought, he oriented himself to the setting sun. He ran. Barefoot and in rags, he ran.

Others were already with him. Even with his natural quickness, he wasn't the fastest. He had worked too long in the mines to be that. He was too worn out by the constant work. He was too hungry, simple as that.

"Release the hounds!"

Josh barely had time to register those words as coyotes howled behind him. Paws skittered across the ground again. Joshua risked just one glance back and instantly regretted it.

Goldfist's giant form dwarfed Silvertooth's in the shadow of the setting sun. Twenty coyotes, each as large as three men, tore after the running slaves. They kicked up a storm of dust and dirt in their wake. The quota was twenty. It was always twenty. The coyotes were kept hungry to feast on whoever they could catch. Their fangs flashed in the light of the setting sun. He spun his head back around as the first person fell to a coyote's leap.

Run. Run. Run.

The only thought on his mind was to run- faster, faster, faster. His legs ached with each impact, his lungs burned, and tears ran from his eyes. He wanted to live- Scions above, he wanted to live.

Another thump behind him cut through his gut as another person fell. They cried out, but Josh didn't look back. Just a little farther. He saw the barred gate to the mine sitting open in the distance. He just had to make it a little farther. He stumbled but righted himself in two extended large steps.

Thump.

He felt a pressure, but not on his back, as he had feared. A heavy weight crashed into his shoulder, catching him mid-stride. Joshua threw out his arms. He tried to correct his steps. He tried to keep his balance. He fell. The ground slammed into him as the weight on his side slid down his body and onto his leg. He gasped in pain as bone cracked and his knee twisted. It was faint and far away, but his mind still blanked. He had a brief moment of darkness before he opened his eyes again.

Josh lay on the ground, rocks digging into his cheek. His arms and legs were splayed out around him, and his right leg prickled with needles of pain like he had hit a cactus. He briefly recognized the form next to him as another fallen captive before he felt four paws land on his back. Joshua weakly turned his head to look, but drool fell into his eyes. Teeth came down, clacking for his face. He couldn't fight back. He couldn't run.

All Josh could do was scream.

Clitter-clatter. Clitter-clatter. Clitter-clatter.

The steady rattle of steel against steel tumbled through Alex's mind as he lay face down on a hard surface. Back and forth, his resting place shook as he struggled to keep his eyes closed. A wailing whistle in the distance pulled at his body and turned him over. He opened his eyes and groaned at the dim orange light coming from his side.

"Quiet down in there!" Metal raked against metal to his right, and Alex closed his eyes shut tight to block out the sound.

Alex took a moment to recollect the last few days. Where was he now? Where had he been? What had he been doing? Alex reached deep into the fuzz of his memories but returned with nothing. All he had was a faint sense of falling and a hard impact.

"What did you do this time?" he whispered to himself.

He opened his eyes and held his palm in front of his face. Alex closed his hand into a fist before bringing it down on the wooden bed below him and forcing himself into a sitting position. He was in a small rectangular room, his back against the wall and bars in front of him. A barely perceptible shake tilted the room at regular intervals, and he could hear the faint clatter of metal on metal below.

He patted himself down. The smooth feel of his leather duster still covered his body, and he was still wearing his boots. He hadn't been robbed blind, at least. The last time that had happened, he had to chase down the thieves completely naked.

He was on a train. He was behind bars on a train. He cracked a smile as he examined the room further. Soft light gleamed from a hanging metal lantern outside the cell, filtering through the bars and the other two cells to his left and right. He was the only prisoner.

Two men worked through stacks of papers outside his cell in the lantern's light. A few of the papers were strewn across the floor. Wanted posters, all of them. If Alex squinted, he could make out a few of them. 'Sword Saint' Sayed. 'Thorn Queen' Leah. Jean Baptiste 'the Reanimator.' Bounty hunters or lawmen, the two men were looking to see if Alex's head was worth anything.

Unfortunately for them, Alex knew what his head was worth.

"Nothing so far, Cletus," the mustached man said to his partner. "If we don't find nothing, we'll be better off shooting and dropping him out the back."

"I told you." Cletus tapped his finger on the table. "I recognized him from somewhere. I've seen his face on one of these posters. We'll eat well when we get to Portsmouth."

Alex didn't see a badge on either, but he could see two pistols on the table. Bounty hunters, then. He kept quiet as he searched the room. He flexed his fingers and opened the gate within himself just a little. Electrifying impulses ran out from his chest, tingling through his muscles and fingers. He flexed his fingers and let his hand follow his eyes. He could feel the guns on the table, as well as the metal bars and train car in his senses. Each had a tiny magnetic field around them from their construction. He snaked his senses through the room, searching for what he needed.

He needed to be ready to act. After a few moments, his eyes found what he was looking for. His black ironwood staff leaned against the wall of the far side of the room.

Alex reached out with his will, wrapping his mind around the staff and flexing his right index finger. Slowly, the staff rose from the ground and took an upright position. He was ready.

"Wait a second," Cletus said, pulling out a poster and holding it to the light. "It couldn't be. Look at this, Joe."

Joe got up from his chair and peered at the poster, reading the text out loud, "'Tin Man' Ortega. One million dolers."

"I'll be damned," Cletus said, reaching down for his gun on the table. "We got a bona fide celebrity here."

Alex didn't hesitate. He stretched out his right hand, calling his staff to him. The magnetic field around the ironwood followed his tug, and his staff whirled through the air to follow. Cletus' head was fortunately directly in its path.

Thunk.

A hard hit from the staff to the back of Cletus' head sent him sprawling on the table. Paper fluttered through the air, and the table collapsed beneath his weight, sending the guns clattering across the ground and away from both men. Alex stood and reached his hand through the bars. The staff found his hand. He steadied himself by planting it on the ground.

"You two caught a fish too big for you," Alex said.

Joe went for his own gun, kneeling on the floor with an alarmed shriek. Alex didn't let him get to it. He threw out his right palm, opening his gate further and releasing a cone of magnetic force in a wave.

The gun flew across the room and into the wall from the wave. The lantern above rocked outward, screeching against its hook before falling back into position.

Joe stumbled to the ground before turning on his back. He looked up at Alex in horror.

"What are you?"

"An outlaw."

Alex moved his open hand over, reaching out with his mind and grasping the keys on the man's belt. Electric power pulses rippled through his arm as he pulled the keys toward his hand. The keys tugged at their hook on the man's belt until they pulled up and away. They floated gently into Alex's hand.

Joe was on his feet and running out of the train car by the time Alex let himself out of the cell. He stepped over Cletus' unconscious body as he made his way toward the door. He held his staff in his hands, ready for a fight.

Screech!

Steel ripped across steel and shook through Alex's ears. Alex, along with everything else in the car, was thrown forward. He dropped his staff and instinctively extended both hands, repelling out with magnetic force in all directions. A sharp spike of pain cut into his forehead as he exerted his will on the magnetic field around him. A warm liquid ran down his nose and onto his lip.

He remained standing, even as chairs slid across the floor and tumbled to the ground. With a heaving tilt, the car stopped, along with what Alex presumed the rest of the train. When he was sure the train car had stopped, he let go of his repulsive field and fell to one knee. Inside his chest, his gate closed. He took a deep breath as he reached around for his staff.

"Time to find out what that was."

He kept his head down as he came to the door, pausing as he opened it a crack to listen. Outside, he could hear people yelling and loud cracks of gunfire. He closed his eyes and focused.

Bang. Crack. Thump.

"Ha ha ha." A man laughed over the din. "Gather them up, deputy! Don't miss a single one!"

Alex pushed the door open with his staff and looked outside. He was indeed on a stopped train, and he could see a cloud of dust outside with several shadowed figures standing in it. The dust started to settle as he watched, revealing a group of people on the ground with around twenty men around them. The men held the people at gunpoint as several gunmen tied ropes around them. Captives.

Alex had freed himself and fallen into a train robbery. He clicked his tongue as he looked over the highwaymen. They were in a uniform of sorts, each wearing matching hats, boots, grey pants, and leather vests. The only real difference between them was the color of their shirts. Each one was a different shade of color, completing the full spectrum of a rainbow. If he squinted, Alex thought that each of them even had the same face.

Alex reached out in the air with his senses, opening his gate slightly. Each man had at least one gun on his hip, but they were too far away for him to influence. He also felt a tug of metal on each of the men's chests.

"Deputies!" Out of the fading dust cloud, a giant of a man appeared.

He stood as tall as half the length of one of the train cars and about as wide as one. Like the deputies, he wore a large hat, grey pants, and a leather vest. Even with his size, it was his fist that stood out. A golden-plated mechanical hand extended out from his forearm, attached to his arm by an iron contraption. A length of chain was wrapped around a cylinder on the contraption, coiled tightly up the length of the giant's forearm. The ground seemed to shake under the giant's feet as he approached one of the deputies.

"Sir." The deputy saluted. "I have the valuables and the hostages secure."

"Good." The giant laughed, his mechanical right hand grasping into a fist in the air. "We'll have new workers in our mine, ready to prove their strength or die."

"Who do you think you are?" One of the captives demanded, pushing himself up to stand despite his arms being bound.

"Oh?" The giant smiled wide through his thick beard. "We've got a rabble-rouser."

"I am the son of the High Judge of Portsmouth," the man said, throwing spittle as he swung his torso forward. "I demand you release me at once. Your lives are already over. The moment my father..."

The giant's metal hand clasped over the man's mouth and torso, blocking any further outburst. With one tug, the giant raised him up, holding the man aloft and laughing to himself.

"A lot of lip on this one," the giant said with a knowing smile.

The men around him laughed.

"As to your first question." The giant's arm whirred and began to rotate faster and faster until the grappled man was a blur. "I'm Goldfist. Sheriff of this town."

He brought down his fist, pointing it back toward the train. Alex had an inkling that it was pointed toward himself, but he couldn't bring himself to look away or take cover.

"Golden Bullet!"

Bang.

The golden fist blasted out from Goldfist's arm, and the clink of chains filled the air. Goldfist's body shook from the attack as the man and fist careened through the air toward the train like a cannonball. Alex braced himself.

Clong.

A brief silence filled the air around him before being vacated by the loud clang of metal on metal. The car he was on shook around him as the one in front tipped precariously. With a groan from below, joiners ripped apart as the car rolled over and onto its side. Alex had a faint glimpse of red in a massive crater in the side of the car before it fell out of sight. His car shook as it righted itself on the tracks.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

In the ringing silence, the chain clicked again, and Alex could hear Goldfist laughing in the distance. The fist returned to the giant, throwing up a dust cloud as it dragged across the ground. Alex stood still, steadying himself with his staff. There was a lot of power in that punch. Sighing and looking over the fallen train car before him, he stepped forward and jumped off the tracks.

"Take them to town, deputy!" Goldfist yelled as Alex approached. "More slaves for the mines!"

The deputies had the people corralled around them. Goldfist himself was wrangling a giant coyote, one fit for the giant of a man he was. He had a hand on the saddle and appeared to be climbing on so he could ride away. The deputies were gathering their coyotes and mounting them as well. Alex counted about fifteen of them in total, minus Goldfist.

Alex approached them from behind, but they didn't seem to notice. When he was about a train car's length away, he stopped and coughed. He stood with his staff planted in front of him as both men turned to face him. There was a moment of shock before both moved into position, the deputy standing in front on one side of the sheriff.

"You missed one, Silvertooth." Goldfist clenched his fist.

"I did, I reckon," the deputy said, his hand on the whip on his side. "Why'd you come out, stranger? You'd be safe if you stayed inside. Fancy yourself a hero?"

"This whelp?" Goldfist leaned back and spewed out a mighty laugh. "He ain't even fit enough to lift a pick. Look how scrawny he is."

"He can work on that in the mines." Deputy Silvertooth grinned, revealing a single silver-coated tooth among his pearly white teeth.

Alex shook his head, picking up his staff and pointing it at the two men.

"To the second question, I'm no hero. Tell me where I am, or I'll beat you both into the ground."

"A fighter." Goldfist belched out another laugh. "What do you think, Silvertooth?"

"If we want to keep him, we have to break him."

Alex spun his staff around his body, taking a stance with his arms in front of him. He couldn't manipulate something the size of Goldfist's mechanized fist, but he still reached out along the natural magnetic fields around him. The other men stood around the captives, watching the fight but unmoving. A faint wind blew across the desert. A buzzard cried in the distance. Alex charged at the two men, ready for a fight.