Faerunners

The Battle of the Dead City

Tallis stepped outside as morning broke over the hills and painted the fresh snow with dazzling rays of gold. The dead city stretched out in the valley below him, burnt and blackened buildings breaking the crust of the snow like the frostbitten fingers of a forgotten leviathan. He squinted down at the empty streets, frowning. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear they looked freshly shoveled.

And something that might have been smoke twisted up from the ruins. 
  
Aragam let out a small cheer behind him and a fire crackled to life, sending a thin plume of smoke rising into the air. “What’ll it be, eh? Fatback, eggs, biscuits? All three?”

Tallis rushed to the fire and kicked snow into the fire pit.

“The hell are you doing?” Aragam snapped.

“There’s someone down there watching us!” Tallis snapped.

Aragam pushed him away from the fire. “Tallis, this whole swath of the world is dead. Deader than dead. It was all I could do to find wood to burn, yeah? There’s no one down there.”

A bugle echoed up from the city below.

Another one answered it.

Aragam’s eyes widened and he rushed over to the weapons wagon, throwing the canvas tarp off and tearing open the crates. “Trouble!” he shouted. “Everyone up!” He moved with mechanical precision, pulling rifles out of a crate, sliding the bolt open, and slipping a strip of bullets into the weapon. He passed the first rifle to Tallis. The rest of the crew ran out of the ancient fort and accepted a weapon. All except Setia who stepped into the cart and came up with a long and thin rifle that sported a brass, telescopic sight that ran the entire length of the barrel.

She braced the barrel on the side of the wagon and peered down the scope. She let out a low whistle. “It is bad news down there. Cold Iron. And lots of them.”

Callan rammed the bolt closed on his rifle and growled. “How many?”

“A gods damned army by the looks of it. They’re forming up now. Shit!”

Valerie squinted down at the city. “Shit, what?”

“They’ve got some real heavy iron. Setting up machine guns on the backs of wagons.”

“Shit.” Valerie shouted. “Can you get them from here? Put down some fire while we break out some party tricks of our own.”

A wicked grin flashed across Setia’s face. “Range is a bit … extreme. But you know me. I love a challenge.”

Valerie clambered up into the wagon and pulled out a long wooden box. “Callan, help me with this.”

The Fae obliged and pulled an axe from a loop on his belt, driving it down into the wood and using it as a lever to pry the lid open. Inside were four short barreled shotguns with the stocks sawn off. Valerie handed them out and pressed a small box of shells into Tallis’ hands. He opened them and found a row of paper shells tipped with redstone.

“What are these?”

“New toy from the summer court,” said Valerie, sliding the shells into her gun. “Make a hell of a mess.”

Setia’s rifle roared. The agents in the town below started to run towards them.

“What’s the plan, Tallis?” asked Callan.

He pointed to a pale building in the center of the city. “There. That’s where the Devils are made.” He looked around at the Faerunners, the friends who had helped him so much along the way. “I can fly there alone. Just give me a few sticks of that dynamite and I’ll handle it. You guys get out of here. Get somewhere safe.”