[Complete] When young Boone Rigger is pulled into the most fierce Gunslinger Tournament in the country, he must find the courage to kill, or be buried six feet underground.
The Iron Alchemist: Slinger Wars Book 1
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It was the morning of the iron alchemist tournament and there was a stir in the city.
The streets were swarming with people from all across Texionya; any and all who could afford the steep entrance fee. Dressed in their finests lavish suits and colorful dresses. Men wearing large and small hats, some tall and brimmed, others plump and round, made of leathers, straw, and felt. And the woman with their fine bonnets and velvet hats, pinned with dazzling rosettes, golden ribbons, and ostrich plumes. Each one of them headed up the western hillside, where the High Noon colosseum waited for their arrival.
Boone Rigger fidgeted with his gun belt, nerves awoken, hands trembling. He took a slow and steady breath, locking the belt. "Everything is going to be alright … breath … just breath."
He looked down at his Grandpappy, leaned over, and gave a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You and Ma Jean watch over us … and welcome any of us who ride into the prairie."
For once, his Pappy seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Eyes shut. Hands on his chest. Ready to be placed in his coffin and transported to his final resting place. Boone gave him one last kiss on his cold forehead than left the room, darting down the stairs, and into the room with the many chimneys.
A blur darted from the cellar, "Boone!"
The boy jolted back, reaching for his gun. Hands shaking uncontrollably. He looked at the boy with midnight skin and a scarlet robe then took another breath.
"Oakot, you testing me or something … I could've killed you—"
He grabbed his shoulder, and whispered, "you need to listen to me." His eyes white and wide, looking over his shoulder, nobody was there. "Don't go to the tournament …"
Boone eyebrows furrowed and he pulled his shoulder away, "I must … what's gotten into you?"
Oakot grabbed ahold of his shoulder and walked him to the corner where the jar was empty on the stand. He pointed, "the Psycrasites …"
Boone was puzzled, examing the jar that held creature. "What about 'em? Did it get out? If so, keep it away from my pappy … I'll need you to watch after them—"
"The Psycrasites are being used in the tournament. You must understand, I've helped my Master … Horrible things we did to the prisoners … ungodly things."
Boone wrinkled his nose, feeling uneasy. "I don't follow … I'm sorry. I must be going."
"The throat," Oakot swallowed, clutching his neck. "They reside in the throat. Shoot there or they will not stop …"
"What won't stop?"
"Shadowwalkers…" The boys head jerked and eye twitched.
Boone nodded, walking to door backwards. "I'll take that into account. You take care, ya hear." He opened the door and walked outside.
