Twin thunder crushed his ears. The device bucked like a stallion, slamming him backward into the wall behind him. Glasses and bottles rained to the floor, crashing around him. He’d misjudged the power of this new weapon.

The assailant, however, had misjudged Billos and now lay in a heap beyond the doors as payment for his lack of respect. “Dead by Billos,” he said, then spun and reached high for the books.

Rolling thunder filled the room; the wall splintered near him.

He dropped to his knees. Reinforcements had reached the door and leveled a round of suhupow at him. He was lucky to be alive!

Okay then. Bring it to Billos; Billos will bring it to you. The books would have to wait.

“Steve!” They kept calling for Steve, which probably meant that Billos had taken out an important fellow. Maybe their commander.

“Steve’s dead!” he yelled, snatching a second handgun off the shelf in favor over the larger stick. “As you and all your friends will be if you don’t surrender.” He dropped the big gun.

Suhupow thudded against the counter in response. Their arrogance was unforgivable!

He scooped up a jar and hurled it across the room. It crashed against the far wall, and the assailant instinctively shifted his fire in the same direction.

Billos rolled into the open, firing from both guns, flinging deadly fire toward a man who stood in the door. Behind him crouched three others, but their way was blocked by the staggering body of their fallen comrade.

Dead by Billos. The enemy had now seen him and knew what they were up against.

Billos launched himself at the rear door, flung it open, and ran into an alleyway behind the establishment. He flattened his back against the wall, guns cocked by his ears, panting. Unable to hold back a smirk of intense satisfaction.

Round one to Billos of Southern, baby. The sense of pride and power that swelled through him was unlike any he’d ever felt. It was almost as if he’d found his purpose, here in the histories. He’d been born for this.

But the sentiment was cut short the next moment, severed by the sight of four warriors who tore around the corner of the next building, scowling, armed with suhupow guns. The wood wall behind Billos splintered when the largest of the four whipped his gun up and leveled belching fire at him. This time Billos had no surprise in his favor, and the warriors had dispensed with the trickery that had made those inside seem so unthreatening.

What did it feel like to be struck with a gun’s power? The question kept Billos momentarily fixed to the ground. His vision clouded, and he blinked. The forest behind the village distorted. A new kind of suhupow?

Billos’s throat suddenly felt dry. His head spun. He pressed both hands on the wall behind him for balance, dropping the guns in the process.