Brass Skies vol 2 (Draft)

Hired Gun part 39

Peters let go just before he hit the ground and tucked himself into a roll. As soon as he got to his feet, he drew his sword just in time to parry a blade. Twisting to avoid a shot, he drew his pistol and shot the soldier whose sword he just parried.

Ignoring the soldier that shot at him, he pushed his way though a group of soldiers before they had time to react. Ahead of him, another soldier coming at him with a sword suddenly stopped and fell over as a bullet tore through his chest. He couldn't even hear the shot over the roar of the battle.

Five hundred yards, he estimated as he pushed over another soldier, causing him to careen into two more. He picked off two more with well placed shots then took advantage of a gap in the fighting to sprint forward a bit.

Four hundred yards. Now he encountered a small group of militia desperately trying to make their way towards the Robert's Revenge. Almost fully surrounded by groups of Brits that totaled to twice their size closing in from two sides, they nevertheless refused to give up.

Since one of the groups of British soldiers was in his way anyways, Peters evened the odds a bit, first with his sword and then with the pistol. Three of the Redcoats fell. As the rest in that group turned to face the new threat, some of the militia turned back long enough to fire a volley into the remainder. Peters raised his sword in salute as he passed by them.

Three hundred yards. Peters shot another British soldier that was aiming a rifle at him. A second later, he wound up catching a Militia member that was shoved backwards into that same arm. Helping the man back to his feet and then performing a spin to clear his aim he fired into the British soldier that was attempting to run the militia member through.

I would lay odds you never thought those ballroom lessons you made me take as a child would serve me on the battlefield, mother, he snorted to himself as he holstered the now empty pistol and reached around to draw the first of the ones Clarabelle had given him. He didn't even have a chance to draw it before he was set upon by a pair of British soldiers armed with rifles fixed with bayonets.

Using his sword to desperately parry the blades, Peters was forced backwards a few paces before suddenly a blade appeared beside him sweeping up one of the rifles. Out of the corner of his eye, Peters saw the militia member he had just helped now fighting at his side. After a couple minutes, when both the British soldiers were brought down, Peters and the militia member stood panting beside each other.

"I've got to get back to my men," the militia member panted, "Or I would ask what is so important that you are headed the wrong way while the rest of us are trying to retreat, but I wish you luck my friend."

"It's personal," Peters answered gathering himself up and set back out.

"I hope someday fate lets us cross paths again," the man called after Peters. "Don't die out there."

"Likewise," Peters shouted over his shoulder.

Two hundred yards. The fighting was now thinner, but the Redcoats were thicker. Peters sighed as he realized how few prisoners the Redcoats were taking. He saw several taking bayonets to the injured militia and mercenaries, including a great many whose injuries did not warrant it. He killed a couple of them before they noticed him and was forced to shoot three more heading his way.

Unfortunately, the noise of the fighting was slightly less overwhelming here, and a mass of soldiers heard his shots and came rushing towards him. Peters braced himself and turned to meet those rushing towards him.

Suddenly there was a rolling rumble loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the battle. Almost simultaneously several geysers of dirt, rock and body parts erupted in the ranks of the British in front of him, greatly thinning the numbers.

A sinking feeling went his chest. Those geysers could only have been caused by one of the ships' cannons opening up. However fortuitous the timing was for him, it meant that one of the captains made the call that the risk to the survivors was outweighed by the risk of allowing the British to continue on unchecked. That did not bode well for the battle in general and spoke volumes for what whichever captain it was thought of the likely fates of the wounded, stranded, and captured. He was grateful he did not have to be the one to make that call.

He took advantage of the few seconds of confusion and poor visibility the cannon blasts had offered to slip past the remainder of this particular bunch of British. As he came out of the smoke, he caught a glimpse of long black hair on the ground, much closer than he had expected.

Taking a quick look forward, and then moving forward in a series of hunched over dashes he made his way to where he had spotted the hair.

The area was littered with bodies, some piled three and four high simply from the way they fell. He used some of these piles for cover until he found what he was looking for.

From underneath no less than three bodies of British soldiers, several locks worth of black hair were sprayed out, almost like a woman's fan along with little strips of what had once been a familiar hair tie. He wiped the worst of the blood off his sword by scraping both sides across the jackets on one of the bodies, then slid it into his scabbard. With a heavy heart, shoved the bodies of the soldiers aside to reveal Asuka, face up. She had several bloodstains on her, and blood soaked the ground under and around her head. Looking closer, he saw the back of her head was actually embedded in the ground.

As he went to gather her up, he realized that her katana was missing. He took a careful look around him and then started searching the area. Every time he came across a body that wasn't obviously that of a British soldier, he checked for signs of life, but found none.

It took him five very long minutes to find her Katana. When he did, he carried it back and placed it carefully on top of her body, resting the blade on one breast as he tried to figure out the best way to lift up and carry her body.

The blade of the Katana shifted and slid.

Peters froze. He slid his hand up and hovered it just slightly over Asuka's nose and mouth. He felt nothing. After a couple of seconds he sighed. Then he went to place the Katana back on Asuka. As he did, he felt it shift under him as a force lifted it ever so slightly. He even saw the slight movement.

A second time he held his hand over her face this time actually touching her skin. There. So shallow that he could only just feel it. Eyes wide, Peters started piling the near by corpses into a makeshift wall. Next, he ripped the end of the flare and tossed it onto the ground nearby.

As the flare sent red smoke into the sky, he attempted to reload the two pistols he had emptied. He only had time to finish one before the first of the Redcoats reached him.