Inkslayer

Chapter 8: One Went Up, Many Came Down

It wasn't the first time Nox had walked into an ambush, and he was quick to whip around his steel-plated guitar as a shield, and even quicker to fire an answering shot. But that was some height up there, and they had barricades to protect their bodies.

Nox rolled, setting off smoke canisters from both the guitar and his belt to buy him cover. But smoke didn't stop bullets, and they had plenty of lead pellets to fire into the haze. He dashed towards the steps, pulling in as close as he could to the hill itself so he wasn't so out in the open. He hugged that dusty rock as he shimmied around, but the land didn't hug back. It jutted out here and there, as if to prod and poke him, or even push him out into the metal rain.

And there it was, that stairway to hell. You see, you could go up or down, but in the Wild North they both led to the same place. The first step was large and granite, like off some old monument that might've one day stood upon Sermon Hill, watching the surroundings with its stony gaze. Now it was just a relic, a stepping stone for the men who followed, whose hearts were just as hard.

The assailants up above must've known by now that Nox wasn't in the smoke, because some of them were shooting down to the base of the hill, with one or two of them poking their heads over the edge to get a better view. Oh, Nox'd give him a great one soon enough.

He made a dash for it, hauling himself up that first giant slab and then taking the next few shallower steps two or three at a time. You had to pray you didn't fall at a time like that, but you didn't pray to God, because in the Wild North he'd let you trip.

Nox cast a canister behind him as he went, which set off a series of noises like the heavy fall of boots. The gunfire immediately centred on the noisemaker, and the Coilhunter used that moment to dive into cover again in a little crevice in the rock. It was there, as he caught his chemical-enhanced breath, that he mapped out the next part of the ascent. He was about a third of the way up now, but it was still a long way to go, and the next parts were trickier still, because the steps suddenly broke off in many places, and were bridged by wooden planks, frayed rope, and worn ladders.

Nox tried to get an idea if his grapnel hooks would reach the summit, but it still seemed too far up, and a glance out to get a better view almost cleaved his hat off. Some folks said an eye for an eye, but he'd have a head for that. Why, it'd go well with a Wanted poster.

The sounds were fading now, and the dust was settling. He decided to let it settle a little more, and let either overconfidence or fear settle in the minds and hearts of the men up above. They knew he was coming for them, and they knew he could appear as if from nowhere. He wanted them looking over their shoulders as much as they looked down towards him.

Then, when the moment felt right, he unhooked a large disc that dangled from his oxygen canister, and threw it down into the sand below. In seconds, a spring-loaded decoy of the Coilhunter popped out of it, ready to scare more than crows, and he heard the shouts of the men up above, followed by their gunfire. That was when he edged out and made a sprint for the next section of the ascent.

First were the planks, which he bounded across with ease, keeping as low as he could to avoid outing his position. Then there was the rope, which he scrambled up, glad to be wearing gloves as the fibres burned. Then came the rickety ladders, and that was where he stumbled.

The first ladder was fine, placed precariously over a large gap, but at enough of an angle to let gravity help a little. The second, however, was placed flat out like a bridge across a larger ravine, and gravity's help there would've sent you down to your doom below.

Nox tried to charge across the rungs, but when he was halfway across, one of them snapped, and he went down with a grunt, his arms grabbing the sides just in time. His legs and torso swung below him, and he tried to pull and push himself up, all while hoping his decoy was still drawing the enemy's attention.

"There!" he heard from up above him, and he barely had time to get back up on the ladder before a bullet whizzed by. Despite this newfound urgency, he didn't dare leap across the rungs again, and instead crawled hurriedly across the posts on either end.

Another bullet pinged off his steel-plated guitar, but as soon as he reached the rock on the other side, he rolled over and fired his pistol at the attacker. Oh, Nox was up plenty high now, and that man wasn't, because he collapsed over the edge and made a thud upon one of the lower steps.

Nox clambered up and raced for the next ladder, but this time he fired his grapnel at the rock to the side, where the claw grasped on tight and hauled him up. The sound of the mechanics, and the wire coiling up back into the launcher, sent more gunmen over to his side of the hill. And Nox was glad now. You see, he had something ready for them.

He was flat out on his back with his two pistols raised when the first heads and hands showed themselves over the hill. Two men collapsed down in a heap at the top, and two others slipped over the ravine, while several more yelped and scrambled away with bloodied fingers. When Nox clicked empty, he fired those grapnels on each arm and just yanked the gunmen over with a scream.

The sight of so many of their comrades tumbling over the edge sent the rest of the gang fleeing, but Nox waited there for a moment until the sounds faded and no more heads or hands peeped over for a little look at lead.

Nox dusted himself off as he got back to his feet, and finished the final steps of the ascent, climbing one last ladder before popping his own head out for a potential cleaving. That's why he pushed his hat up on his raised pistol first, and was content to follow it when no bullets came.

He stood out in the open now, both pistols drawn. He stepped over the bodies of several men he hadn't given gravity's burial, but he was ready to do more burying. You see, they could make their sermons up there all they wanted, and they could preach and they could pray, but right now the Coilhunter was king of the hill.