David Robbins - Dakota Run

“And that’s it,” Kilrane concluded. “Frankly, I’m tired of it. I want us reunited! I want us as one people again! Are you with me?”

Their response was a clamorous affirmative.

“Who’s going to lead us if we get back together?” one man demanded when it was quiet again.

Hamlin suddenly cupped his hands to his mouth. “Who else should lead us but Kilrane? Kilrane! Kilrane!”

The chant was taken up by the others, and soon it became a swelling litany.

Kilrane held his left hand aloft for silence. “I appreciate the honor,” he stated, “but this time we’ll do it right. This time we’ll put it to a vote of all our people.”

“But what about Rolf?” someone inquired.

“Rolf can run for leader the same as anyone else,” Kilrane replied.

“More to the point,” questioned an elderly rider, “what about Rory?”

“Hang the bastard!” a rider screamed.

“How about a firing squad?” suggested another.

“Geld the son of a bitch!”

Geronimo, amused, watched Rory squirm. He was looking around in stark fear, vainly searching for support.

“Maybe we should send him into the Dead Zone,” Kilrane recommended, “on foot.”

Rory gulped and finally found his voice. “It isn’t true!” he feebly protested. “How can you believe him? I never raped Adrian! You believe me, don’t you?”

His appeal was useless. He realized that. The faces confronting him were as hard as granite.

“No one is going to back you up,” Kilrane said quietly. “So let’s get this over with. How do you want to go out? A bullet in the brain? I’d love to do it!” he said, mimicking Rory’s earlier statement.

Rory licked his thick lips, his mind racing, trying to find a way out.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him and he smiled. “I demand a trial by combat!”

Geronimo detected a stirring, an unrest, in the horsemen. Snatches of conversation drifted his way, and he overheard enough to learn the men did not like the idea.

Kilrane was frowning. “Trial by combat?”

“It’s my right!” Rory exclaimed. “You know it is! It’s been the law since the Cavalry was formed.”

Geronimo saw Kilrane glance at Boone.

Boone, clearly displeased, nodded. “The bastard has a point. He does have the right.”

Kilrane surveyed the other riders. “Rory has requested a trial by combat! We have no choice! His request must be granted.”

Mutterings and mumblings arose from the men.

“Okay, Rory,” Kilrane addressed him. “If we denied you a trial by combat, we’d set a bad precedent for the others. According to the law, if you survive the combat, you will be permitted to leave here unmolested.”

“Why do you think I picked it?” Rory asked, mocking his nemesis.

Kilrane’s lips tightened. “Also according to the law, you are allowed two choices. First, your choice of weapons.”

“I pick the lance,” Rory stated.

“He’s crafty, that Rory,” Hamlin whispered to Geronimo and Cynthia.

“He’s good with the lance, and he knows it.”

“The lance, then,” Kilrane declared. “All that remains is for you to pick your opponent.”

Rory twisted his neck, examining the men, hunting for the ideal foe.

“We haven’t got all day,” Kilrane snapped after some time had elapsed.

Rory, unexpectedly, smiled, seeming to relax, to suddenly become surprisingly confident. “I’ve made my decision.”

“So who is it?” Kilrane demanded. “Who gets the honor of doing you in?”

Rory, grinning, slowly raised his right hand. Everyone watched with bated breath, awaiting his selection. Rory extended his pudgy index finger, smirking. “I have a right to trial by combat!” he yelled. “I also have the right to select the man I will fight, and that man… is… Aim!” Rory abruptly leveled his arm, indicating his intended adversary.

It took Geronimo several seconds before he realized who the antagonist would be.

Rory was pointing at him!

It was late afternoon. The sun was high overhead in a clear blue sky.

Except for Beta Triad on guard duty on the walls, and Spartacus and Seiko watching the prisoners in the infirmary, the entire Family was gathered on the commons between the Blocks to hear a special announcement from Plato. Men, women, and children were packed into a tight circle, their faces directed toward Plato and several of the Elders. Blade stood off to one side, about eight feet from Plato, in the center of the encircling Family.

“I will make this as brief as possible,” Plato began. “For the benefit of those who might have been outside the Home wrestling mutates all day, two couples have declared their intention to bind in four days. I know how much we love to gossip, so I imagine everyone already is aware of the fact, but for the few still ignorant of the news. Blade and Jenny and Hickok and Sherry are going to marry in a double ceremony.”

There was a spattering of applause, laced with expressions of delight from several of the women, and one or two suggestions from the men on the proper wedding night activities.

“That’s only part of the news,” Plato continued. “We are all painfully cognizant of the shortage of Warriors, a deficiency made glaringly obvious by the Troll raid on our Home some time back. Consequently, the Elders have decided to add another Triad to the four already in existence. Joining Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Omega Triads will be Zulu Triad. Additionally, we must fill the vacancy in Gamma Triad created by the demise of its leader.”

Some of the Family began conversing in muted tones, discussing the fate of Napoleon, the late powermonger and former leader of Gamma Triad.

“The Elders have also reached the conclusion Alpha Triad should return to the Twin Cities soon. That being the case, and in order to assure adequate time to provide minimal training, we have elected to announce the final candidates for Warrior status. I’m afraid we’re rushing into this.

I’d prefer more time to devote to training the new Warriors before Alpha Triad departs, but for reasons I will elaborate upon later, it is imperative Alpha Triad hasten to the Twin Cities and establish a friendly pact with the inhabitants. So…” He paused and surveyed the dozens of faces surrounding him. “If there are no objections, we will proceed with the induction of the new Warriors.”

None of the Family lodged a protest.

“Excellent,” Plato resumed. “We were honored this time to have ten candidates for Warriorhood. Unfortunately, we only require four at this point. Regrettably, this means six had to be eliminated. I want to stress, for the benefit of those six, that being dropped from current consideration does not adversely reflect on their personality or qualifications for the post. It simply means the four chosen embraced certain factors or experience essential for becoming a seasoned Warrior, factors predicated on incidental circumstances and not deliberate design.”

Hickok, who was standing two feet from Blade, Sherry at his side, leaned forward. “You know, pard,” he whispered, “you’re always saying how funny I talk sometimes, but at least folks can understand me!”

“First I will announce the replacement for Gamma Triad,” Plato stated.

“Because he displayed considerable courage during his confrontation with the Moles, and because Hickok vouches for his potential, and overlooking his insubordination when he left the Home without permission and was later captured, the Elders have chosen Shane as…”

Plato’s comments were loudly punctuated by a shout of delight from the chosen one.

Others laughed at Shane’s reaction.

“…the new Gamma Warrior. While on the subject of Gamma Triad, you all know they require a new leader. So, because of his loyalty in the face of deliberate rebellion, and with Blade’s highest recommendation, the Elders have picked Spartacus as the new head of Gamma Triad.”