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Famara and Ousmane weaved their horses through the fleeing inhabitants toward the north. The sound of desperate struggle amplified with each moment; soon it filled his ears. The Prussians and Tuaregs had breached the perimeter defenses. The airships burned in the distance but had apparently lasted long enough to use their aerial firepower with effective results. His brothers succumbed to their warrior instincts, preferring individual battle to organized resistance.
“Do you have knives?” Famara shouted.
“Yes!” Ousmane answered.
“We’ll take out the kriegers first,” Famara said. “Once their down we’ll pull back and set up a firing line.”
Ousmane nodded. Both men steered their mounts left toward the closest kreiger. The leviathan twisted at the waist, strafing the sand with its automatic guns and scattering horro whenever they attempted to gather. The Tuaregs raced about on their camels and horses, adding confusion to the scene. Famara pulled up his then reached into his knife bag. He slammed a knife hilt against his saddle then threw the knife hard. The primed weapon lodged into the neck piece of the automaton then exploded, blasting the headpiece from the body. A cheer rose from the beleaguered horros as the Kreiger teetered then collapsed into the sand. A Prussian crawled free of the wreckage before it exploded again. No sooner did he climb to his feet was he cut down by horro gunfire.
The duo rode to the second Kreiger without hesitation. The machine sprinted toward them, guns spitting bullets as it trampled anyone or anything it its path. A cry to his right caused Famara to look; he grimaced as he watched Ousmane roll off his horse, his chest riddled with bullets. He guided his horse right, then left, then right again, dodging the bullet stream aimed at him as he came closer and closer to the metal giant. He was almost in range when his horse bucked, sending him flying through the air then landing hard on his left side. His arm took the brunt of the blow; when he scrambled to his feet it hung limp at his side, numb from the impact. A Tuareg on a towering white camel charged toward him, revolver in one hand, takouba raised in the other. Famara recognized his face in an instant.
“El Tellak!”
He ran toward the vile man, snatching a throwing knife from his bag. He hit the hilt against his hip in stride then hurled the knife into the camel’s breast. El Tellak’s shocked face disappeared as the knife exploded, filling the air with blood, smoke and flesh. The force of the explosion knocked Famara off his feet and onto his back. He grimaced as he stood, intending to finish the kreiger still wreaking havoc among his brethren. Instead El Tellak strode toward him; his robes tattered, his wounds healing with each step.
“Did you think it would be that easy, horro?” El Tellak spat. “You killed me once. Now it’s my turn to kill you!”
Famara didn’t have time to wonder why the Tuareg still lived. Tellak fell on him with fury and skill, his takouba slicing and stabbing at him like a serpent. Famara met the attack with equal skill, parrying and dodging despite his numbed left side. Tellak raised his revolver but Famara kicked it from his hand then drew his leg back before Tellak could sever his foot. The tip of Famara’s saber kissed Tallak’s cheek, causing the man to twist his head away to save his jaw. The wound bled for a moment then healed before Famara’s eyes. The horro cursed as Tellak grinned.
They clashed again, the battle raging around them. The horros, inspired by Famara’s presence, rallied in the ruins of the nearby buildings. A blast caught both men’s attention, their heads jerking toward the sound. The horros managed to find an old cannon among the city’s caverns and put it to effective use. The Krieger reeled, a massive dent in its breastplate. The horros hurried to load the cannon again as the Krieger and Tuaregs surged toward their position. They were met by a storm of gunfire from horro rifles.
Famara took advantage of the distraction. He kicked Tallak’s right knee then chopped hard with his saber, severing Tallak’s left hand. The man screamed out then staggered back. He glared at the bleeding stump as it slowly healed. Though seriously wounded, his energy was unabated. He lunged at Famara, who spun to his left then plunged his saber into Tallak’s back. Tallak managed to push away from Famara, twisting and striking out with his sword as he fell away. The blade ripped Famara’s shirt then gashed his chest.
The horro was undeterred. He chased Tallak, stabbing him over and over; trying to overwhelm the man’s mysterious healing powers. He was so engrossed in his task almost saw the dagger streaking toward him too late. He fell back awkwardly as the poisoned blade flew by.
“Menna!” Tallak shouted.
A robed figure jumped between the adversaries. Menna crouched, a dagger in her right hand, takouba in her left. Famara advanced slowly on the woman.
“Kill him!” Tallak shouted.
Menna looked at her wounded brother then looked at the man she’d hunted across half the world. Her eyes narrowed then she stepped aside, sheathing her sword and dagger.
“Menna?” A shocked look ruled Tallak’s face.
The woman stared at Famara, nodded then turned her back. Famara leaped at Tallak, swinging his saber with both hands wrapped tight around the hilt. Tallak was still staring at the woman when Famara cut off his head. It fell into the sand with a soft thud.
Famara held his sword in guard position as the woman slowly turned to face him. Instead of going for her weapons, she raised her hands. Famara stepped away as the woman reached into her robes then took out a canvas sack. She picked up Tallak’s head, raising it slowly to study it face to face. Then he held it high then let out a piercing cry. All the Tuaregs looked toward her. They returned the cry, some of the voices cracking with sorrow. Then they retreated, mounting their camels then riding out of Timbuktu. The woman placed Tallak’s head into the sack then secured the sack to her waist belt. She backed away from Famara to her camel which knelt as she mounted.
“Hut hut!” she barked. The camel rose to its feet. She yanked the reins and the beast turned toward the north, following its brethren from the city.
Famara watched the Tuaregs leave. The Prussians fled as well. With their kriegers and airships destroyed and the Tuaregs retreating they were vastly outnumbered. The horros waved their sword and fired their guns in celebration. Famara’s eyes stayed on the horizon. Wherever El Tallak hid, his people were in for a surprise. There would be a new Akedamel, one the Soninke was sure he would meet again.