"You fool!" Krix shouted, "which direction did he go?"
Brugar scratched his oversized dome. It was the best bounty they had in weeks — a heart — and if they screwed it up they'd go back to doing diamonds for Wildie & Ron.
"He went that way," Brugar said, staring to the left at the fork in the road. "Or was it that way? No... that way." He pointed right.
"You imbecile... How many times do I have to tell you to keep your eyes peeled and ears clear?"
"At least one more time, Master?" Brugar grinned a wide, rotted smile.
Krix wiped the wrinkled annoyance from his face. "You go that way and I'll go this way. And don't withdraw your weapon unless you need to... Last thing we need is a Sheriff or Legionnaire on our tails."
Brugar nodded, "what if he attacks me—"
Krix griped, "I just said, unless you need to..." The man snatched his tassal whip from his belt and and smacked Brugar on his arms already blackened arm. "Pay attention!"
Brugar folded his big, round lips, frowning.
"Now get your big, pale ass going before I shove this down your throat!"
"Yes, Master!" The large man boomed, thundering off down the left side off the fork in the road.
"I've grown too soft on that big, stupid ape." Krix grumbled. "It maybe time to go back to the old ways."
He searched his surroundings; they were as far north as the city went. Where wooden aqueducts zigzagged above the mining district; lined with intricately placed stone attached to rowed water towers; there to quench the thirst of the infinitely wealthy.
The place was heavily guarded. It had to be or it would be under constant assault. Deputies roamed the streets while Legionnaires oversaw production, carrying alchellets on their bullet belts strapped to their chests and around their waists.
Krix walked down the streets, his feet moving nimbly; three steps for every one of Brugars while a sound my his ear twitch; the sound of grinding and pounding that came from the mines.
Can hardly hear a thing, he thought, walking beneath the tunnels of aqueducts.
The man they were after, Carlyle Schmidt, was a miner who'd been in charge of monitoring the weight of Corodite shards that came through the mines though the numbers didn't match up. Word had it he'd been changing the logs in order to sell additional shards to high rollers who sold weapons to tribes illegally; There was a lucrative market for Corodite and anybody who was anybody wanted it — And Carlyle was the key to finding out who ran the market — a knowledge the Mayor would pay top dollar for which meant a big payout from Wildie and Ron, and Krix for that matter. But since Carlyle got wind that he was under investigation he was giving deputies, Legionnaires, and bounty hunters the slip.
Krix leaned against an old shack, peeking his head outward, squinting. The fires that melted the Corodite down to liquid created steam that surrounded the Northern side of the City while the suns rays gave it an orange-hazy glow, making it damn near impossible to see past ones hand.
Krix closed his eyes and drew air through his nose, trying to calm his anxious nerves. No matter how many hits one had the body never grew used to the worry.
"He's just a miner, not a trained gunman." Krix whispered, nose wrinkling. "But you never know how an animal will attack when cornered...Shit! This positive attitude doesn't work for me." He took another breath. His heart pounded slow and nearly irregular. He clutched his chest. "This stress will be the death of me… That or that big dummy…"
Krix removed the crossbow from his back, pressing the stock into his shoulder while raising the arrow tip forward. He cradled the weight, preferring it over a six shooter. "Less messy and much more difficult to use," He tell others.
He crouched beneath the beams of a water tower. Where are you? He thought, eyes shifting right and left with each swing of the bowgun.
With each step the sand kicked up dust making his surroundings more difficult for the eyes. Even at a slow pace it helped none. "No wonder he chose to hide here...like finding a frog in a pond...near impossible."
He made his way between two more water towers, around a few shacks, across mining tracks, and under more aqueduct bridges then he could count. Nothing. No movement. No Brugar. No deputies or Legionnaires. Just a whole lot of nothings.
He stopped and leaned against a post, wiping his forehead with his sleeve then removed a cigar from inner vest pocket, pressing it to his lips. He grabbed a match—
His ear twitched to a clunk on his right; the man swung his bow around, fighting to see through the beams and steam.
Maybe a loose board—
From a shack to the east came a blur that disappeared into the haze.
"There!" Krix bolted in that direction. Being an older man, his bones creaked like an old belt, but he moved quicker than most, cutting through the steam with the point of his arrow.
He climbed over tracks and stopped, squinting to get some kind of direction. The haze had wrapped around him like smoke. Damn it… He saw box of metal sitting on the tracks and leaned up against it; a mining cart left abandoned. Krix then bit down on the cigar, and drew reached a hand for his matches. "Where could he have gone—"
Krix whipped around, taking three steps back from the mining cart. Eyes narrowed. "You've got but a second to remove yourself before I give you a piercing…"
"Don't shoot!" Echoed a voice from inside the metal box. "Or I ain't moving…"
"Can't promise you anything...best you come out now before I have no other choice. Are you Carlyle Schmidt?"
"Who's asking?"
"Somebody with very little patience," Krix growled, "Now answer the question or I'll assume you are and will shoot..."
"Well, I ain't then…"
Krix chuckled, "seeing how I'm a bounty hunter, I can't have you telling you've seen me...And since you're not Carlyle Schmidt I am going to have to dispose of you—"
"I am, for pete's sake! I'm Carlyle Schmidt..." His hands flung outwarded, dangling. "Just don't shoot! I'm coming out…"
The man shuffled as the metal clanked, rolling and hoisting himself over the lip of the cart. He was an older man with little hair, broken glasses, wearing a tan set of overalls that were covered in soot.
"Why're you chasing me," He pushed his frames up the bridge of his nose, "you little shit!"
"No need to play the fool," Krix prodded the arrow into the man's chest and he winced. "Now tell me about the Corodite."
"I know nothing about the—" He screamed as blood dripped down the arrows tip.
"Don't make me prod you again...Next time it won't be so pretty."
The man wiped the blood from his arm. Eyes trembling. "I'm just a simple miner…" Carlyles mouth hung and hands raised as Krix jerked his bow forward. "Alright...What do you want to know, Jerk?"
"Your weights been off," Krix said sharply. "And I want to know who you've been selling Corodite to and why…"
The man laughed nervously, "I can't tell you that...they'll kill me."
"If you don't tell then they won't have a chance." Krix closed one eye and looked down the sights of his bowgun. "Now talk…"
"Ok! Ok!" The man shudders. "He's a real-son-of-a-bitch...Ugly scar on the side of his face. Goes by the name Mitch "The Bull" Horn.
Krix laughed and shoved the arrow between the mans arm flesh and he let out a loud wail. "I'm a bounty hunter — same as Mitch — some thinking before talking might've done you some good."
"I think you hit bone, you little prick." The man patted his arm until his palm was painted red.
"Next I'll hit an organ...Now this is your last chance, friend...Tell me who is purchasing the Corodite."
"I'm not good for names..."
"You better think."
"It's one of those slithery-type names...Something like salamander eyes or snake tongue."
"Sounds like your assuming..."
"Scaleface!" The man yelled. "But I've never met the man...I just went through Mitch."
Krix rubbed his pointed chin, "you're telling me that gambling fool is purchasing Corodite right under the Mayor's nose?" He shook his head. "I heard he was buying to provide guns to Cyoakians."
"There are whispers," the man shrugged, "but how much do we know is true, I'm not certain... All I know is the Mayor wants my information and me dead..."
Krix smirked, "he'll pay a heavy price too...If I can find you then so can another bounty hunter, which does no good for my cause...I'll put you down quickly, friend." He raised the bow and placed a finger on the trigger.
"Wait, you Bastard!" The man cried. "I may know one more thing…"
"What more can you possibly know?"
"Information worth my life…"
"Tell me!"
"The last shipment of Corodite is being moved during the tournament…"
"Tournament?"
The man nodded so hard his glasses almost flung from his head. "The Iron Alchemist Tournament… Whomever is moving weapons has been using the tournaments to move them — last move was Lone Creek — and I know Slyface had gone for the move."
"That is worth your life." Krix fired the arrow and the man collapsed.
Carlyle grabbed his stomach, wailing, blood soaking the sand. "You shot me, you prick!"
"Quiet! You'll live!" Krix yelled. "You want people thinking you're dead, right? Now give me them glasses."
"My glasses?" he winced, fighting his hands from touching the wood protruding from his flesh. "Why?"
"Just hand them here." Krix snatched them from his face and dipped them in blood and sand. He pulled a hanky from inside his vest and wrapped the object. "Now get as far away from town as you can...Don't let me find that you've been captured or I'll come back and finish the job. Understand?" The man nodded weakly. "Good...Now get your wounds dressed quickly or you'll expire before I get paid" He chuckled.