Wallace

A loud WHUMPH shook the building, rattling furniture and shaking me awake, followed a moment after by an orange glow and a wave of heat.

I pushed Val off my chest as gently as I could and leapt to the window.

"Fuck."

Val stumbled to her feet, still drunk with sleep, "What is it?"

I found my jeans and started struggling into them while I explained, "They torched the truck. That was the gas tank going up. Stay here," I insisted. I grabbed my axe from where it leaned by the bedroom door and scooped up a roll of coins from the nightstand, "I'll be right back."

I hurried down the stairs and out the front door, careful to shut it behind me.

The fuel tank had been at the rear of the truck under the bed, and I'd held out some hope that I might salvage something if I were fast enough. But the fire was not contained to the rear of the truck as I'd hoped. Wiring, fuel lines, even the rear tires would have been lost, but I could replace most of that with local materials. But the fire had spread before I'd even made it out of the bedroom. There was a wide pool of burning gasoline under the truck, which had set fire to the front tires and then the engine, the only part of the truck I couldn't replace or fix.

I'd been a fool. The truck was unique as far as the locals knew, the only analogue being Simon's magically propelled vehicles, but this was hardly the first time they had seen it in use. If the people after Val were paying attention, and I'd be a fool to think otherwise, they'd know how useful it could be. So their first strike against us was to cripple our mobility. The hotel was now days, instead of hours, away.

Amity might be able to salvage something from the burnt-out wreck, assuming we could even get it back to the hotel, but there wasn't much point. We did have other vehicles, after all, they just weren't as easy to hotwire as the truck.

No, short term crisis aside, the real loss was the fuel.

We'd brimmed the tank before setting off, and until a moment ago, it had represented about half our remaining fuel. It should have been enough to last us months. After all, each of the rest stops was only about twenty or thirty miles apart, short enough to walk in a day. It was hardly as if we were driving along paved roads, but it hadn't been reasonable to assume we would have worked out an alternative by the time we started to run out.

Vivian might end up getting what she wants. Maybe stay here with her until we can figure out how to make our own version of Simon's carriages. Fuck, that's going to take ages.

I heard two gunshots from above and behind, the noises so close together that they sounded like a single blast, and I was struck by the realisation that I was being distracted.

The front door splintered as I crashed through it, and I hardly noticed as the rough wood scraped my bare shoulder.

The first man was dead before I even realised he was there, run through with the axe's top spike. His friend turned, already halfway up the stairs, and I kicked the body free to ready my weapon for another strike.

The inside of the guest house was far too cramped to swing the axe, I had a hard time even standing up straight, so I wielded it like a spear.

The man had his weapon up and ready to meet my thrust and extended his shortsword to catch the blade of my axe. It slowed my strike, and if he'd room to manoeuvre, it might have saved him. But on the stairs, he couldn't take a step back for fear of tripping.

The sprites wore armour in the Roman fashion, made up of several segmented plates. It was respectable kit, and though a little on the heavy side, better than what the common soldiers of either Caniforma or Parabuteo could expect.

But there was a flaw. Each plate was overlapped by the one above, covering gaps and allowing the armour to flex and move. This was perfectly reasonable on the battlefield, where your opponent would have a hell of a time getting their blade under one of the plates and into the gap. Unfortunately for the sprite, we weren't on the battlefield, fighting on more or less level ground. We were on a steep set of stairs, and even with him straining to hold the weapon at bay, it hit him. It struck one of the plates that covered his abdomen, scored a line across the iron, carrying it under the next plate and into the gap.

The spike went in just below the ribs, and I jerked the axe back, stepping aside as his limp body tumbled down the stairs.

There was another gunshot, followed by a second a moment later, and I threw myself up the stairs three at a time.

There were three men in the hall by the open bedroom door. The fey nobleman, who'd been peering through the door, turned his gaze to me, fear written across his face.

The rage pheromones hit me like a wave as he urged his men to defend him, but that was a mistake. The world went black. It seemed as if only a moment had passed, little more than a blink. But when the world returned, both soldiers and the fey nobleman were dead, and I found myself holding one of their swords instead of my axe. I still had the roll of coin, though I could tell by feel that a few were missing.

I dropped the sword, covered in purple blood, and tore my axe free of the first soldier. Metal screeched as I pulled the spike out of the hole in the soldier's breastplate, and I turned to the bedroom door in time to see three sprites fighting to get Val through the window and out onto the terrace.

Two of the men were outside pulling, while the one on the inside was trying to pry her fingers loose from the window sill.

I stepped into the room, mindful not to trip over the bodies of any of the sprites Val had shot and was surprised by a fourth soldier I hadn't seen from the hall.

He leapt over the bed and was within the length of my axe before I could react. I brought the haft across my body, holding the axe like a staff, and caught the blow. I lifted the axe, forcing his sword up, and booted him in the chest.

The kick took him off his feet, and he slammed back into the edge of the bed. The men at the window managed to force Val through it, and the one who'd been inside turned, took up his sword, and came to the aid of his compatriot.

I didn't have the room to use the top spike with my back against the wall, neither had I space for an overhand swing, so I stepped forwards and met the oncoming man with a horizontal chop.

The soldier didn't need to be an expert to anticipate the strike and was already ducking low to avoid it before I'd even begun the swing.

He dropped to hands and knees and slid, his sword still in one hand. The axe head glanced harmlessly off the top of his helmet, and he had his feet under him, rising to strike before I could get the axe back around to defend.

He'd just got the blade back up off the floor and was extending it to strike when my heel caught him in the face. It wasn't the smartest choice, kicking barefooted at a man wearing armour, and the man went down, face and helmet covered in red blood.

The sprite I'd kicked into the bed was struggling to his feet, but I ignored him and bounded across the bed to the window. Links of broken gold and silver chain covered the floor by the window and the terrace beyond, and I saw the large diamond that had been the centrepiece of Val's amulet by the nightstand.

The soldiers who'd been on the balcony had already got Val down to ground level, and were dragging her over to a section of the estate's wall where they'd torn out the ironwork decorations. Val was still fighting, bless her, but the soldiers dragging her by the hair had been joined by a half dozen more who'd spilled out of a carriage waiting by the open section of wall.

Val was still in her nightgown, and purple blood ran from a gash over one eye. I was so furious at the sight of the men dragging her by the hair back to the carriage that I hardly felt the impact when I leapt from the terrace.

Two of the reinforcements went to help the men man-handling Val, while four split off, coming after me.

I raised my left hand, fingers extended, with the rolled coin held between my thumb and palm.

I snapped off six shots in quick succession before the soldiers closed the distance. Two of the men fell as the steel coins, propelled well above the speed of sound, tore through their iron armour. A third was wounded when one of the coins veered off course, twisting in the air to slam through his pauldron and into his shoulder.

No longer constrained by the guest house's close quarters, I was free to bring the beak of the axe around in a high overhand strike at the uninjured soldier. But I was not the only one to benefit from the increased freedom of movement. Unlike the ones I'd fought inside the house, these men bore large rectangular shields.

The shield shattered under the force of the blow, and it left the soldier holding a few bits of wood connected by some leather strips. He staggered back, and the man I'd winged stepped up to guard his ally, holding the shield high with his uninjured arm.

I dodged to the left, raising my axe as if to strike at his head, and he brought up his shield to defend himself. But the shield blocked his eye line, so he was caught utterly unawares when I stepped back and launched two more coins from my hand. They threw up a spray of splinters as they hammered through the lacquered wood, and lost only a little velocity before punching through his armour. The man crumpled to the ground, and I extended my hand towards the soldier with the tattered remains of a shield.

Dispatching his partner had taken time, however, and the remaining soldier was upon me before I could ready the spell. He caught me with only one hand on my axe, and I swept it awkwardly across my body, leaping back as I did. It was enough to knock the thrust aside, and I got my left hand back on the axe before he could bring the sword across in a sweeping slash at my abdomen. Again I blocked the blow, holding the axe vertically to block with the haft.

I kicked at the soldier. The blow didn't connect, but it did force the soldier back and gave me the time I needed to get my feet under myself. I threw myself forward with the axe across my body. If I'd had him against the boards, the cross-check would have shattered the glass and sent him right over the boards and into the stands. Instead, he was thrown onto his back, and the impact tore his shortsword from his grasp.

I didn't waste time finishing off the stunned soldier. They were already hauling Val inside the carriage, and I had not a second to waste.

The remaining men sheathed their weapons and hopped onto the carriage's running boards, covering themselves with their shields as the driver spurred the horses to a gallop.

I sprinted for the wall. With the ironwork removed, the section they'd come through was only three feet of stone. I hurdled it with ease and hit the cobbles running.

There were houses and businesses on the right side of the street, and when I first heard the shouting, I thought for a moment that someone had seen what was happening.

I adjusted my expectation when the arrows started coming down, and a door down the street burst open to reveal another squad of soldiers.

I didn't slow, not for a second, even as one of the arrows grazed my back, tearing a red line from shoulder to waist, and another hit the crown of my head and shattered.

The soldiers on the street were too slow to intercept me. Wearing heavy armour and bearing large shields, it took time for them to get moving, and I was past them before they could interfere.

Of course, I have similar problems getting underway. Accelerating half a ton takes a hell of a lot of energy, but my size works to my advantage once I get going. My stride is measured in yards, not feet, and once I get up to speed, it's hard to slow me down.

Even so, the carriage was drawing away from me. I still had coins in hand, but I dare not use them. There was no telling if I'd hit Val. Even stopping to take a more accurate shot would likely be futile. I'd be giving up distance I could ill afford to lose, and the screwy ballistics of the coins would still mean I'd only hit my target by luck.

And then the carriage's back left wheel exploded. The blast launched the soldier on that corner free of the carriage to land face down on the street with six inches of splintered wood sticking out of his thigh.

The carriage continued down the street, fishtailing behind the team of horses. It remained upright, more or less, but the unbalanced carriage put more strain on the horses, and they began to slow.

The carriage came to a side-street, and the driver tugged on the reins, bringing the animals around into a right-hand turn. It would have been difficult enough to make had all four wheels been intact. The carriage rolled onto its roof and swung around behind the horses to strike the building on the far side of the street.

Jerked back by the sudden halt of the carriage, the horses went down screaming, and men struggled to free themselves from the wreckage.

I could hear shouting and the sounds of battle behind me and looked over my shoulder to see Vivian's guards engaged with the group that had tried to cut me off. An archery duel was ongoing between those men up on the roof and a squad of archers in Vivian's colours who took cover behind her estate's fence.

"Flee or die!" I bellowed as I closed the remaining distance to the carriage.

The driver, a fey, and the two soldiers who hadn't ended up underneath the carriage as it rolled wasted no time in taking my advice and scattered.

I almost fell as I skidded to a stop before the carriage, leaving a streak of blood behind me on the cobbles.

I could hear a struggle within the carriage, and I tore the door off and cast it aside.

An armoured sprite flopped out. His helmeted head hit the cobbles with a clunk, and his limp arms fell extended above his head.

Someone had driven a dagger right through the centre of the chest plate and into the man's heart.

Within the carriage, I could hear Val snarling and a man's high pitched scream. A broken whimper heralded the man's exit, and a fey noble tumbled out clutching his face and what remained of his ruined eye.

"Val?"

"I'm okay," was the reply, her voice quivering with manic energy.

Her hands were slick with blood, and her eyes filled with a feverish heat as I helped her out of the carriage and to her feet. Aside from the gash above her eye, she didn't seem to be bleeding, but it was hard to tell with her nightgown such a mess.

As soon as I was satisfied her injuries weren't immediately serious, I checked my surroundings. Nearby, only the fey who'd been in the carriage was on his feet, bleeding from the eye and stumbling away down the side street with one hand on the wall of the building to steady himself.

Below the carriage, I could hear soldiers moaning. Still, aside from that, there was only the melee behind us on the street where Vivian's men were finishing off the outnumbered and beleaguered ambushers.

"Stay behind me," I whispered, intending to join the fray and bring a hasty end to the night's misadventures, but it was over before we reached the brawling sprites.

The soldiers escorted us back to Vivian's manor, where the apoplectic fey was quick to summon healers to tend to our injuries.

"This was exactly the sort of thing I warned you about!" Vivian raged

Wallace, to All: If anyone sees this, go wake up Cassius and tell him I need to talk to him right now.

"You told me that the safest thing to do would be to stay with you," Val retorted, "That's hardly gone well, now has it?"

While Val had a single fey healer tending to her mostly minor injuries, I had three. There was my foot, cut open kicking the one guy in the helmet and then made worse by running down a dirty cobblestone street. Thankfully it had been a high-class neighbourhood. Otherwise, it might have been even worse. Then there was my back. I thought the arrow had grazed me, but that wasn't the half of it. It had been a direct hit on my shoulder, but the arrow had deflected when it hit my shoulder blade and gouged a line across my back. The one that had hit me in the head hadn't done quite so much damage, but it being a head wound, bled like you wouldn't believe. And then there was the shoulder I'd torn up coming through the door, and a dozen or so other cuts, scrapes, and bruises I'd collected without even noticing. The fey healers worked to patch up all the holes while I tried to keep out of their way, as I wrote in the comms book.

Wallace, to Simon: You're going to sell me that big six-wheeled carriage I saw the other day.

"No," Vivian seethed, "I told you staying at my manor was the safest thing to do. Had you done so instead of sulking in your guest house, none of this would have happened."

Cassius, to Wallace: I'm here, what the hell is so important?

I shifted the book

Wallace, to Cassius: There are a ton of phones, a couple tablets, flash drives, etc. Find them, take stock. I need movies. Top of the list is Marvel stuff. Just do it.

"I do not sulk," Val growled, "I simply do not want to be looked after by slaves."

Simon, to Wallace: Nah.

Cassius, to Wallace: Phoebe and I've been watching through them, pretty sure we've got most of them. I even found some I never saw. Most recent one is Spiderman.

Wallace, to Cassius: Which?

Cassius, to Wallace: 1 sec

"Instead, you have Wallace do everything for you? You nearly got him killed tonight."

"How dare-"

"When did Simon get here?" I asked, raising my voice.

"What- He's not, what are you talking about?" Vivian demanded.

"Simon, when did he show up in Pelignos? I remember it's been years, how many years?"

"Three or four. Closer to four," Val supplied, no less confused than her sister.

"So twenty seventeen, maybe twenty-sixteen," I muttered, "Last thing he would have seen is... Ant man? Civil war?"

Cassius, to Wallace: Far from home. Haven't seen it yet though. Got 22 in all..

Vivian shook her head, "War, what war?"

Wallace, to Simon: You have money, women, and power. But I have something your money, women, and power can't give you.

"Who are you writing to?" Val frowned.

"Simon. He's got a bunch of magically propelled vehicles. He's gonna sell us one, and we're going to get the hell out of here."

"No, this is insane. Have you two gone mad?" Vivian exclaimed, "You already had such a vehicle, and it's a smoking ruin. What makes you think you will fare any better if Simon provides you with a replacement? Which he won't, by the by. Simon will part with his creations for neither love nor money, wealthier men than you have tried. "

Wallace, to Cassius: 22? Should be 23. What's missing?

"If things were different, maybe I'd agree," I admitted, "But we can't stay here. It's just not feasible. Every second we stay is another second we give them to plan. Whoever the fuck them is. No. Simon is gonna have one of his girls drive a carriage over, and we're gonna haul ass out of here tonight. They'll be expecting us to take some time to rest. Instead, we'll be at Crater Lake long before they can send any men, even men on horseback. And by the time they get their shit together, we'll be in Caniforma."

Cassius, to Wallace: IDK man, there's a shitload of movies here. I see an Iron Man and Iron Man 3. So I guess we're missing 2?

"They expect you to take some time to rest because you're bleeding like a stuck pig and need to heal. Gods Val, you shouldn't even be conscious," Vivian took a deep breath and forced her voice to take a more even tone, "I understand you don't want to feel trapped here, Wallace, but as long as you do what I ask. What I actually ask, I can keep you safe. It won't be forever, just until the city calms back down and comes to grips with the fact Val is no longer a player in city politics."

Wallace, to Cassius: Thank fuck. I thought we were missing something important.

"You've had months, sis," Val sighed.

Simon, to Wallace: If you say some shit like 'friendship' I'm throwing this book out the window.

Vivan threw up her hands, pacing, "These things take time, Val."

"I recall you giving me a timeline of weeks."

"These things rarely work out in the manner we desire."

Wallace, to Simon: When was the last time you sat down and watched a movie?

"As long as we're here, there remains the chance that someone could get their hands on Val. So people aren't gonna be in a giant hurry to cooperate with whatever you've got going," I pointed out, "Was coming here in the first place a mistake? Probably yeah, but what's done is done."

Simon, to Wallace: One of my girls brought back some old silent film reels. I rigged up a projector. We watched some Charlie Chaplin stuff.

Vivian sat down, covering her face with her hands.

Wallace, to Simon: Almost four years here and all you've had to watch are silent films? I'd rather watch grass grow.

Simon, to Wallace: Alright motherfucker. So you've got some torrented movies and a bunch of airport novels. I'm not giving you one of my vehicles for whatever crap a bunch of people brought to keep them busy on the plane.

Wallace, to Simon: Give me enough time, and I'll figure out how to build one like what you've got. Hell, I'll probably figure it out quicker than you did. The hard part isn't making something spin with magic. That's easy. It's the suspension, steering geometry, all the engineering stuff that goes into a real car. You had to figure all that out on your own. I've got a bunch of cars parked out behind my hotel to crib from. So either you can sell me your six-wheeler tonight and get to watch Avengers Infinity War once I deliver it, or you can wait till I figure it out on my own, and I charge you way more to see it and everything that led up to it.

Vivian took her hands away from her face and looked up with surprise when she saw me still writing, "You're still negotiating with him?"

"I have something he wants. Something he can't get anywhere else," I muttered.

Simon, to Wallace: Just got an interesting report. Can you guess what it said?

Wallace, to Simon: I know what it said. It said that another human would be spending months in Pelignos, interfering with your business and generally being a pain in the ass. A human who's bigger and stronger than you, who isn't so limited in what magic he can do. A human who's demonstrated that he's the most dangerous thing on two legs. A human that's going to draw a lot of attention from people looking to counter the guy mind-controlling all their wives and daughters. How long do you think I'll be here before someone makes me an offer good enough to be worth developing a countermeasure to your magic bullshit? Yeah. They torched my truck. Kinda sucks. But it sucks a lot less than having someone else stomping around in your isekai sandbox. After all, if there's two of us, can you be sure you're the main character?

Simon, to Wallace: Fuck you.

Wallace, to Simon: So you can deal with all that shit, or you could hand over the vehicle. What's it costing you? The materials you put into the thing, I guess. And you lose a technological edge a little earlier than you were expecting. In exchange, you get a piece of Earth.

Simon, to Wallace: Fuck it. Fine, I'll send someone over. But your dumb ass is sending me those movies as soon as you get back. And a tv to watch it on.

Wallace, to Simon: Hey Simon.

Simon, to Wallace: WHAT?

Wallace, to Simon: How did you get here?

Simon, to Wallace: I'm certain that doesn't matter.

Wallace, to Simon: Come on, I'll tell you how I got here.

Simon, to Wallace: Fine. I was driving my car. Mists grabbed me when I was going across an overpass. Had a big fucking crash. Now how did you get here?

Wallace, to Simon: Got hit by a truck.

I snapped the book shut as soon as I'd finished writing, and Vivian raised an eyebrow at my smug grin.

"What could possibly have you so amused after a night as you've just had?"

"Tormenting Simon," I explained, "Right now, somewhere deep in his giant harem, is a very pissed off human. And he can't do anything about it. He's also sending us the six-wheeler. It should be here soon."