Wild Bill II
Wild Bill sat in the driver seat of his wagon and whistled a tune. It was a beautiful day out, his wagon was full of new and exciting wares, and his pocket rock let him know that potential clients were just down the road. The birds sang, and Fella, bless the mule, had a little pep in his step. Wild Bill seldom started the day in such a mood.
He noticed an owl perched along the side of the road; a soundless sentinel. Wild Bill was wearing his new hat to keep away the sun, and had recently discovered why it was left for him in the cache. “Why hullo, sir,” he said to the owl. “Any news on the road this morning?”
The owl cocked its head and hooted back at him. “Trouble,” it said. “Trouble, trouble.” Wild Bill’s brow furrowed.
This hat wasn’t the first article that allowed him to understand animals, so Wild Bill knew not to expect too much from them. Still, owls understood trouble. “Thank you, friend. Happy hunting.” He turned his attention back to the road, curious to find out what had spooked the creature.
They came upon the group in short time. The owl’s warning had him on alert, but Wild Bill would’ve been skeptical of the scene anyway. A group of four men lined up to block the road- no doubt they heard the wagon approaching. Three of the men held cudgels, and one a whip. A few folks were sitting on the side of the road. First, Wild Bill noticed the ropes binding their wrists and ankles. Then he noticed that it was a family: a withered-looking man, a stout woman, and two small children.
“Hullo there!” Wild Bill called. “Easy, Fella.” He hopped off the wagon.
“What’s your business?” One of the cudgel-wielding men asked.
“Travelling merchant! I’ve got odds and ends for everyone, perhaps even something you didn’t know you needed!” Wild Bill spared a glance at the prisoners to the side. The children’s eyes were cast downward, but the woman made a pleading look toward him.
“Search the wagon,” the man replied. Two of the men started toward the back of the wagon.
“I’d be happy to tell you what I’ve got,” Wild Bill responded, though he made no move to stop the men.
“You deal in magics?” The man asked. Wild Bill heard the flaps of his wagon open behind.
“Afraid I don’t understand the stuff,” Wild Bill said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look nonthreatening. “Just moving wares, trying to get by. You have an interest in something particular?”
One of the men in the wagon called out, “bunch of useless shit.”
“Take it all,” their leader replied.
“Gentlemen-“ Wild Bill started.
“Magic has been outlawed in the north,” the leader lectured. “Surely you’ve heard the decree out of Faucberg. If you’re unsure of your wares, we’ll need to confiscate it all to ensure the public’s safety.” Wild Bill heard the men rummaging around in his wagon.
“I suppose these children are a threat to the public, then?” Wild Bill said. “You must not be very confident in those cudgels to tie up a few kids.” The leader scowled and moved toward Wild Bill, raising his weapon overhead. He started growling something of a threat.
Wild Bill sighed. The day had started off so well.
His fingers were on a small vial in his pocket. He drew it out now and smashed it on the ground between him and the leader. He whistled loud, and wasn’t surprised to hear the men in the wagon cry out. Wild Bill reminded himself to never sell the sentient rug. It was a great bodyguard, and he was quite fond of its sassy nature.
Smoke burst from the vial to fill the air around them. Wild Bill climbed back into the driver seat and reached into the wagon, finding the staff he hid behind the seat. He tossed it in the direction of the leader. Through the wagon, he saw one of the men wrestling with the rug. Wild Bill chuckled when the other man missed the rug and whacked his friend with the cudgel.
The leader yelled out for help now. “Wizard! Wizard! Oh shit, snake! Get over here, Garth! Get it off! GET IT OFF!”
Wild Bill grabbed a knife and hopped off the wagon, heading toward the tied-up family. He couldn’t see the leader and his friend with the whip, there was smoke everywhere, but it would be gone soon. Wild Bill found the family, who had started shuffling further off the road. Wild Bill started whistling his tune again and the family looked back to see him emerge from the smoke. He twirled the knife in his hand. He reached out his other hand and gently grabbed the rope between the man and woman.
“I’ll be with you folks in just a moment,” Wild Bill assured. He cut the rope in a few places. “Just have to finish a transaction with our friends here.” He handed the knife to the man and walked to the back of his wagon. He ignored the two men struggling with the rug. He surveyed the wagon; the men had really made a mess of things back here. The quill wouldn’t do; he set it aside. He found a few potions, but couldn’t remember which was which. Only one or two would be useful anyway. He grabbed a dagger that had been tossed to the floor.
“Hmmm,” he said. “And what do you do?” He tossed it on the ground between him and the rug-wrestling men. It hit the ground and stayed there without doing anything. He shrugged and looked back into the wagon. On the other side, he saw the smoke dissipating. The man with the whip was trying to pry a large boa constrictor off of the leader.
“Ah!” Wild Bill’s face lit up. “You will do nicely!” He picked up a roll of paper; it was shorter than a scroll, probably the size of his hand. He unrolled it a bit and tested the underside: it was extremely sticky to the touch. He turned and saw one of the men crawling away from the rug, which had the other man wrapped up. The rug held him in the air, upside down. The rug bounced in the air, repeatedly knocking the man’s head against the ground. Wild Bill grabbed the legs of the crawling man and wrapped a length of the sticky paper around them. He ripped the paper and jumped on the man’s back, then wrestled the man’s arms together. Wild Bill wasn’t a young man anymore, so it wasn’t as easy as he had hoped it would be. But the man was sobbing and weak, so Wild Bill was able to tie the man’s arms up behind his back with the sticky paper.
He got off the man and moved back toward the front of the wagon. The rug left its combatant unconscious on the ground and flew over to Wild Bill, who raised a hand. The rug drew back a tasseled corner and high-fived Wild Bill.
The man with the whip saw Wild Bill and his eyes went wide. “Boo!” Wild Bill shouted. The man dropped his whip and ran away. Wild Bill nodded at the rug, who flew after the man and wrapped him up. Wild Bill tied the leader’s arms and legs with the sticky paper, then did the same to the man wrapped up by the rug. The tied-up men whimpered and begged to be released. The leader cursed Wild Bill.
“The Movement will get you, magician!” The man tried to sound threatening, but he was fearful. “Your time is coming to an end. The common folk are rising up!”
Wild Bill turned his attention toward the family, who had untied themselves and now watched with wide eyes. The woman waved her arms to gather the children behind her in a protective pose.
“Hi folks, sorry about the wait. They call me Wild Bill.” He bowed low.
Previous Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/03/03/resistance-chapter-8/
Next Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/03/17/resistance-chapter-10/
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