[Complete] When young Boone Rigger is pulled into the most fierce Gunslinger Tournament in the country, he must find the courage to kill, or be buried six feet underground.
The Iron Alchemist: Slinger Wars Book 1
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Days came and went while the tournament drew close. Only a few weeks away, and still no sign of the one they called the Ace.
Hrok stood against the barn watching the sun descend to the west, turning the sky purple while the western horizon bled of reds and oranges; the sun flared like dying flames burning through brush.
He swore, "I can't take this much longers …" The once new and vast scenery felt dull and bland. "If he won't come to me I'll go to him—"
The barn door squeaked. E'krek appeared, wearing his dark long coat and trousers while his long, braided hair hung like a tail down his back. When his eyes found Hrok he sighed, rolling a lip. They hadn't spoken, still brooding over the Hroks decision.
When he turned to go back Hrok called after him, "you don't have to leave," He lifted a canteen and gave it a shake, "got some Numbwillow I kept hidden from the other. Drink?"
"I working to quit…" E'krek walked over and removed it from, taking a sizable sip. "Just don't know when."
The men laughed and passed the canteen.
Once their guts felt rotted, their tongues fell loose and Hrok spoke freely, "You understand why I'm doing this, right?"
"Not at all…" E'krek admitted with a slur to his words. "We go into that tournament and every Yurk could see us fail…"
"I don't plan on failing," Hrok said, "and if I do, death will do me good."
"Bonejaq won't make it any easier on us. He'll know we've tried to pin the train attack on his people. And inside the tournament hismen will target us—"
"Let them!" There was a smile in his voice. "That'll play to our favor when we slay them in front of our own. Yurks don't follow the frail or the feeble; they follow the brave and the bold." He chuckled. "And once the Yurk lords arrive in Sundown City the Mayor will have them apprehend for their crimes."
E'kreks eyes twinkled with each drink, looking more and more like his even-tempered self. Only a shell of himself without the gut rot, it'd taken control of him like a puppeteer bringing out his best and worst sides. Today he was suprisingly mellow.
"If this plan doesn't go as you foresee we could be the walking to our deaths."
"Then so be it!" He snatched the canteen and drank, no fear in his eyes. He wiped the wet from his lips then belched. "As I said, if we fail I'd rather be dead…"
"And what of your men? Do you want the same ill fate for them?"
Hrok hesitated before pressing the canteen to his lips. "Their sacrifice will be rewarded in the afterlife; The Gods know my will…"
E'krek looked across the plain. The sands had turned black with a hint of reddish-orange from the melting sun. "You speak of the Gods too freely … their will is not certain as well as our fates … I've prayed many moons without a single answer from even the ancestors … What if we've been forsaken?"
