The Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson [115]
Coughing, bleeding, he crawled behind them. Then he collapsed.
* * *
Wayne spun between two Vanishers. He brought his dueling canes to the side, slamming them into the back of one of the men. He was rewarded with a satisfying crack. The man fell.
Wayne grinned, dropping his speed bubble. The other man who had been trapped in it with him spun about, trying to draw a bead on Wayne—but while sped up, he’d inadvertently moved into the path of several of his comrades who’d been firing.
The Vanisher fell to a spray of bullets. Wayne jumped back, erecting another bubble around just him and one confused Vanisher.
Everything outside slowed—bullets stilled in the air, shouts vanished, the waves diffusing as they hit the speed bubble. That did strange things to sound. Wayne spun about and knocked the gun out of the hands of the Vanisher behind him, then lunged forward and rammed the end of a cane into the man’s neck. The man gurgled in surprise; then Wayne smacked him on the side of the head, dropping him.
He stepped back, puffing and spinning one of his canes. His bendalloy was running low, so he ate another bit. His last. More worrisome were his metalminds, which were almost completely spent. Again. He hated fighting that way. A single gunshot could end him. He was as fragile as … well, everyone else. It was most disturbing.
He stepped up to the perimeter of his speed bubble, wishing it would move with him. That Pewterarm was still wearing Wayne’s lucky hat; the man had ducked behind cover when Wax had thrown the dynamite, and had only just emerged. He didn’t appear to have been injured badly; a few scrapes to his face, the sort of thing a Pewterarm could ignore. Too bad. But at least the hat was doing all right.
The man had begun to charge toward Wayne, moving extremely slowly, yet noticeably faster than the other Vanishers. It was frustrating, but Wayne knew he had to stay away from the man. He’d never beaten a Pewterarm without a lot of health stored up. Better to keep jumping around, keeping the man confused until Marasi or Wax could shoot him a few times.
Wayne turned and scanned the area nearby, choosing where he should stand as he dropped the bubble. With so many bullets being fired, he didn’t want to …
Was that Wax?
Wayne gaped, only now noticing Waxillium’s bloodied form hurtling across the room, as if by a Steelpush. Wax was pointed toward a group of boxes on the northwestern side of the room, to Wayne’s left. His suit had been shredded and burned along one side. Another explosion? Wayne thought he’d heard something, but jumping in and out of speed bubbles could really play havoc with sounds.
Wax needed him. Time to end this fighting, then. Wayne dropped the bubble and dashed forward. He counted to two, then put up another bubble and dodged right. He dropped it and kept running, bullets streaking through the air where he had been. To the eyes of those trying to track him, he’d have blurred and appeared immediately to the right of where he’d just been. He did it again, dodging back in another direction, then dropped the bubble.
Almost there. Another bubble up, and—
Something hit Wayne in the arm. He felt the blood before the pain, strangely enough. He cursed, stumbling, and threw up a bubble immediately.
He grabbed his arm. Warm blood squirted between his fingers, and in a panic, he tapped the last smidgen of healing in his metalmind. It wasn’t enough to fix the gunshot wound; it barely slowed the bleeding. He turned, noticing another bullet about to hit his speed bubble. He jumped to the side just before it touched the perimeter, zipped through the air in a heartbeat, then hit the other side and slowed again, deflected erratically up toward the ceiling.
Damn, Wayne thought, tying an improvised bandage on his wounded arm. Someone has very good aim. He glanced about to find the black-suited Coinshot kneeling beside the wall, holding a familiar-looking rifle, sights on Wayne. The rifle was the one Ranette had given to Marasi. Well, this is going to hell