XIV

The ball punched through the man’s torso, just to the right side of the sternum, the armor he wore doing very little to stop the angry lead as it screamed downfield at him. It wasn't impossible to make armor musket resistant, one just needed enough steel, the problem was that in order to stop a ball at the velocities a musket threw it one would need a significant amount of steel. Steel was both expensive and heavy, which meant it was not feasible either in cost-effectiveness or efficiency. The only reason armor was still worn was that voltlocks were slow to reload and that meant most combat after an initial volley or two was a melee, where armor was still supreme and important.

A good modern breastplate could still deflect a ball, if it hit at just the right angle, or else with luck for the wearer, a glancing blow. Unfortunately for this Kurtz lineman, Adrian’s shot was neither at an advantageous angle for the man nor was it a glancing blow.

The kinetic energy of the shot spun the man around as he fell, blood spewing out of his mouth. A fist-size exit hole where his spine had once been told Adrian that he had no worries about the man getting back up to fire back. He fell sideways and splashed as he was almost completely lost in sight as the swamp’s murky waters swallowed his corpse. Every whitecoat in a mile had heard that musket fire was too unique a sound. A very distinct explosion that gave away your location. But then again, that was the point, it might give them the idea to follow him.

Had he simply wanted the man to die, either magic or a quick blade from behind could have done the trick, though he had to admit it was quite hard to sneak through the marsh silently, too much water and splashing to actually be silent enough to sneak up on anyone save a deaf man.

Speaking of splashes he heard the sound of the rest of this poor fellows’ patrol rushing in to find out what had happened to the man. Adrian caught sight of another Kurtz lineman as he came into view splashing frantically his head swinging left and right looking for targets. Adrian leaned forward, flipping the lever that allowed the volt generator to conduct electricity to his second barrel. It barked for a second time and he watched as the man fell backward, blood arching from his ruined face and the gleam of his helm catching the light as it spun away to splash somewhere out of view.

Splinters rained down on him as a musket ball glanced off of the tree just above his head. He cursed under his breath as he ducked away and glanced over at Isi. She nodded to him, she was laying on her stomach in the marshy water, her upper body on dryland as she faced the direction of the Kurtz patrol, and before he could move she rolled out sideways from behind her tree careful to keep the gun from getting wet. When she had made one full rotation she pulled the pan back and aimed. The explosion of gunfire came not from her weapon but from three other sources. Only two of which had been from his men, he drove it out of his mind as he rounded the corner, one hand in his reagent box questing for the right powders.

A man on the right wielding a musket that was aimed at Adrian’s chest went down as the world shuddered under the roar of Isi’s firearm like thunder rending the sky he was struck down with an almighty blow that knocked him off of his feet, blood spraying out of the hole on his chest and between his clenched teeth, the shot he had been aiming at Adrian going wide, arching over his head as his fingers spasmed on the trigger...

One of the Kurtz men had just finished reloading the firearm and had it lowered, dropping to one knee and lining the shot up by looking down the barrel of the firearm. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger and the Axe-bladed musket barked its response. Adrian threw himself down into the marshy water diving in without a second thought. As the brackish water came up to meet him he twisted, pointing two fingers at the man in a gesture that was almost a parody of a pistole and arcane fire exploded around him, vaporizing the water in a giant plume of steam. Being lit on fire was bad, anybody who had been burned even slightly once would tell you that. What was worse was being burned via steam.

He had heard it explained to him once, something about the steam condensing on skin due to the lower temperature and thus making the burns more severe. Adrian knew that his brother could have explained it in a way that made sense, what he did know was being in the middle of a roiling cloud of vaporized water was not a situation to be envied. The scream the man gave off was something primal, there was no intelligence in it, just pain and agony. Either by instinct or else just happenstance the Kurtz lineman threw himself into the water, but Adrian didn't pay him any mind, even if he somehow survived the burns and the risks of infections he was no longer a combatant in this fight.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

As Adrian pushed himself out of the murky water he caught a glimpse of another Kurtz lineman he was not a yard away, his eyes fixed on Adrian. Adrian twisted as the man’s finger spasmed on the trigger. He heard the shot, felt it go through the meat of his right arm, and attempted to ignore the pain as he sprung to his feet, sopping wet and stinking of the stagnant waters of the marsh.

The man’s face was grim, he understood he didn't have time to reload the musket, so he used it another way, he swung the implement, both hands on the stock, the musket was made for this purpose. The front of it was shaped to a bladed point much like that of an ax, it was an ingenious design that allowed more flexibility when needed, and it was one of the things he wished his own country would adopt from the Kurtz army. Adrian ducked under the swing of the blade, allowing it to pass within an inch of his face as he twisted his torso back. He came up leading with his rondel dagger. He would have much preferred to draw his sword, there was no time however and his wounded arm was on wasn't moving well, so this was what it had to be. The dagger came up and the man somehow got his musket between himself and Adrian, using it to block the thrust by stopping Adrian’s arm movement.

Adrian’s hand came up and clamped on the stock of the musket and the two of them began grappling. At such close distances, the Kurtz man was at a disadvantage, his weapon needed reach and Adrian had no intention of allowing him to open that distance. His dagger came stabbing in again and the man decided it would be better to focus on Adrian’s blade instead of his own. He let go of the musket discarding it in favor of grabbing at Adrian’s wrist. It would have ended up being a struggle between the two of them if Adrian hadn't stepped forward with one of his legs going between the man’s and hooking it behind the knee. With a savage shove, he pushed the man over, following him down. He hit the water and as Adrian bore down on him his head went under. The panic of that moment caused the man to temporarily forget the dagger poised above him and to worry instead of the water rushing into his lungs. Putting his full body weight into it Adrian pressed down and sunk the blade deep into the struggling man’s throat right under his chin between the gorget and the helmet. There was a brief moment of struggle as the man flopped about like a caught fish underwater, but the spasms died down as the murky gray marsh turned a sickly-looking pink. He stood, panting, the water streaming off of his armor and clothing, and looked around, seeking any more Kurtz men. It didn't appear as though there were any left.

Glancing over he noticed Isi standing next to him, her eyes almost looked as though they were shining with a purple light. She smiled and looked at him, her smile faltering as she saw the rent in the plate on his bicep. It morphed into a look of anger as she slowly reached up and brushed her fingers against the wound.

“It’s fine,” Adrian grunted, “went through the meat, didn't even hit the bone,” he said, and she reached into his reagent box and pulled out two waxed leather boxes, she shook the water off of the lid, using a spot on her own uniform to carefully wipe it off before opening it. somehow it made it through that impromptu swim without the seal that kept the water out from being compromised. “I hate this part,” he grunted before wiping the blade clean of blood on the dead man's trousers and sheathing it. Reaching in the offered boxes for Calamine and Cuprum. Once his fingers were coated in the stuff he gritted his teeth and stuck his fingers in the hole in his arm, pushing them deep. He grunted and attempted to focus on casting, which was damned hard to do when sticking one’s fingers into a bullet wound. A dull gold light glowed ever so slightly as the flesh knitted itself back together, not quite fully healed, but more than enough to allow basic movement of the arm.

They both ducked as a shot rang out and a ball whizzed overhead, exploding bark and wood debris that showered the two of them as the tree not four feet away from them received a musket ball. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and noted the group of about twenty men coming into range, all of whom were wearing what had once been white uniforms but at this point had been stained gray by the swamp’s filth. “Time to go!” he growled, grabbing her by the arm and snatching up one of the discarded Kurtz muskets. He could hear the whitecoats splashing in the water behind them, attempting to catch up or at least get into effective musket range. A wicked smile twisted his face, “That’s right you bastards, follow us.” He growled as they led the poor bastards to their deaths.