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hunkered down and exchanged fire until the leader returned.
    Then Billy attacked them from behind and sank
two boot blades into the two closest, and steel from hand wands
into the backs of the others. He fell hard on his back and rolled
under cover in case some lived long enough to fire back. His
parents charged and finished them off. They transferred ownership
of the wands before they turned cold.
    "I got several more back there," Billy
whispered proudly, unnaturally calm. "Now you guys get the leader
to show me his back."
    Which seemed as good a plan as any. It’s hard
to hit fliers because they can move so fast in any direction. The
solution is to fix their attention up front, then kill them from
behind.
    The couple flew back where they came, but
over the trees instead of through them. As expected, the head
bandit chased them, his coat still smoldering. The parents then
dropped below the tree line and weaved their way back to Billy, who
waited patiently in a tall tree. At the perfect moment, Billy
launched himself at full speed and impaled the guy with two pikes
in the back before he even knew of Billy’s existence. He tumbled
head over heels and smacked hard against a birch tree. The blow
shook with such force that the snow on its branches fell.
    Billy dropped on top of the guy and strictly
followed protocol. A dying warrior has nothing to lose by fighting,
so Billy sliced his biceps so he could not fire back. Then the boy
took his boot wands, whose power filled Billy better than any drug.
He had transferred wand ownership before, but not with sticks of
this power, and the sensation overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes
and soaked up the experience. Wands grow more powerful the more
they are used, but people do not blast rocks with the same emotion
that they blast enemies, so the more people a wand has killed, the
more powerful it became. These ancient wands had killed a lot of
people.
    Wands don't transfer ownership well, and the
more powerful the wand, the harder to transfer. Weak wands, like to
store videos, can be passed around without loss of power, but
strong ones cannot. Wands taken from cold dead hands lose much of
their strength, which is why warriors prefer dueling, where they
can take wands while the owner at the moment of death.
    As he came down from the high, Billy noticed
the dying man staring viciously at him.
    "You're just a damn kid," the leader
whispered, growing weaker as his blood colored the snow red. "You
don’t even know who I am."
    "I don’t even care," the boy replied, as he
put a boot on the guy’s chest and roughly tore the two hand wands
away. The boot wands warned him of the power of the hand wands,
which spiked him with a sizzling energy that some prefer to
orgasms.
    His eyes rolled up into his skull and his
skin tingled deliciously. Billy didn’t realize it yet, but he had
just become addicted to what quads called “sipping” and what
everyone else called “sucking.” The world saw so much war because
warriors went crazy from desire without regular shots of wand
juice. Sucking a powerful wand dry added decades to one’s life.
They say that youth is wasted on the young, and virtual immortality
wasted on those who must kill to stay alive.
    Billy had no idea how much time had passed,
but his parents had already collected the coins and wands from the
other fifteen attackers when he came to.
    "Let's go home," his mother told him. “Anyone
who can shoot flame ten meters is trouble.”
    “He’s not dead yet,” Billy objected. “I want
to see him die.”
    The thug gathered what little strength he had
left to whisper to Billy, “My grandfather will make you die
horribly, and soon.”
    Billy extended flame eight meters with his
new wands. “Let him try.”
    The boy watched the brute’s eyes go blank,
something he’d never tire of. For a warrior, nothing else compared
to taking life. The wands in his hands told Billy when the bandit
died -- they grew warmer and full of life.