Waxillium fired a shot downward to slow himself right before he hit the ground. He needed to get a shot at the Lurcher at just the right angle to—

A second shot cracked in the air, and the Lurcher screamed. Waxillium twisted, raising his gun, but the Lurcher hit the ground face-first, already bleeding.

Marasi popped up from a shrub next to him. “Oh! That looks like it hurt.” She winced, looking concerned for the man she’d just shot with an aluminum rifle round.

“Hurting is kind of the idea, Marasi.”

“Targets don’t scream.”

“Technically, he was a target too.” And many thanks to Wayne for grabbing the wrong bullets back after the wedding dinner. He hesitated. What was he forgetting?

The Coinshot.

Waxillium cursed, dropping the empty ordinary pistol and grabbing Marasi. He ducked into the opening as a spray of gunfire came from the mists, narrowly missing them. Waxillium carried her down into the room, landing softly.

The lower chamber was a scene of chaos. Men lay broken on the floor, some dead from the blast, others fallen to Waxillium’s shots. A large group of Vanishers had set up near the western tunnel, firing out at Wayne—who was in full form, burning through his bendalloy like a madman. He’d appear, draw fire, then vanish into a blur, and appear right next to where he’d been. He called insults as the bullets missed him, then moved again.

The gunmen kept trying to guess where he’d appear next, but that was a fruitless game. Wayne could slow time, see where the bullets were heading, then walk to a place where they wouldn’t hit. It took a great deal of luck and skill to hit a Slider who knew you were there.

Impressive as it was, though, it was a delaying tactic. With so many men firing on him, Wayne couldn’t risk moving any closer. He had to wait momentarily between creating speed bubbles, and if he was too close to the men, there was a good chance they’d be able to aim, shoot, and hit him in the seconds that he was exposed. The longer Wayne tried to dodge, the better the men shooting at him would get at judging the pauses. If he tried it too long, he’d get hit.

Waxillium took in the scene, then held out a hand to Marasi. “Dynamite.”

She handed him her stick.

“Find cover. Try and hit that Coinshot when he comes down for us.” Waxillium dashed into the room, firing without looking toward the group of men. They cried out, ducking for cover. Waxillium reached Wayne as a speed bubble went up.

“Thanks,” Wayne said. Streaks of sweat ran down the sides of his face, though he was grinning.

“The Pewterarm?” Waxillium asked.

“We fought to a standstill,” Wayne said. “Bastard is fast.”

Waxillium nodded. Pewter burners always gave Wayne trouble. Wayne could heal far more quickly, but the Pewterarm’s powers made him fast and strong. In a hand-to-hand fight, Wayne was at the disadvantage.