The Ranger: Apollo's Story (Tales of Welkinia Book 2)

by J. M. Ivie

  The citadel in front of us, it had to hold thousands of men…

  “We get in, rescue the prisoners, and destroy everything.”

  “We need to regroup with the men and talk over our entrance with them.” I muttered, keeping my gaze focused on the screeching Wyverns. Their bat-like figures and serpentine scales sent shivers up and down my spine. Untamed beasts likely used as a last resort by the Anarchists.

  “I agree,” Barak said after a moment of thought. “We need a plan to get out.”

  “But not the same way we go in.” I whispered. “If we plan on going in through the front door.”

  Barak’s lips quirked upward.

  ___

  Chains rattled, shaking and ringing like a death chime. Barak stood beside me, his posture the same as if he weren’t wearing shackles and manacles. I heard the others behind us, Niall being one.

  “You would think they would give us a warmer welcome.” Barak grinned, tilting his head as they shoved us through the gates.

  Shivers crept up my spine and coursed through my body like a ravaging chill. I hoped all would go according to plan. The guard urged us forward, leading us down a dark corridor. Candles lined the walls, barely illuminating the doors which hid in the shadows of the archways. We descended another flight of stairs, and all appeared to be going just as we predicted.

  We entered a dungeon-like area with mold eaten walls. The smell of decaying flesh churned my stomach. Everything about it made me want to hold my nose and run. The sound of the rusty metal prison doors swinging open and closed shredded my nerves. Goosebumps creeped along my flesh.

  “In here,” the guard said as he opened a cell door and shoved me, Tesla, and Barak inside.

  “What about the others?” Tesla asked, narrowing his eyes at the guard.

  “They’ll be put in a cell too. We treat everyone equally here.” The blood-curdling grin that crept along the guard’s face was enough to unsettle me. Something didn’t seem right.

  The door closed and the three of us walked around the tiny cell.

  “How long did Duncan say it would take?”

  “He said, ‘a clip of an hour,’ whatever the Lapp that means!” Tesla groaned, fidgeting with his chains. “I don’t like this. Something's off.”

  I nodded, and to my surprise, so did Barak.

  “Yes, this seems like ei isidia.” Barak leaned against the wall, his eyes focused on the door.

  He was right. It felt like a trap.

  Suddenly, the small door at the bottom of the cell opened and someone slid a small tray into the room. Water and some slices of bread.

  “Eat up and drink. It will be your last crumb and cup for days.” The guard laughed, kicking the bars.

  Tesla’s body stiffened as he watched the man. As soon as the guard left, his muscles relaxed, and he grabbed the food, light bouncing off his silver hair. Like the men here, Tesla was once an Anarchist prisoner, and once rescued by Elric’s rowdy bunch of daring warriors, he joined the crew. But, aside from that, there wasn’t much else I knew about him.

  “Care for a bite to eat?” Barak muttered, taking a sip of water. “If Duncan does not pull through, the man will be right. Last bit of food for days. I would not want you withering away… you are already so skinny.”

  “You’re hilarious, Barak. I wonder how you ever get away with that form of flattery.” I grunted, sitting down beside Tesla and taking a sip of water. It had a sickening metallic taste to it, and I immediately set it down. “I don’t know how you’ve remained a bachelor for so long.”

  “It has been hard.” Barak leaned back, “I have had so many offers.”

  Tesla didn’t seemed to acknowledge our banter. It was as if his mind was otherwise occupied. Judging from Barak’s pointed gaze, he saw it too. I turned my head to Tesla, “What made you come along? This is basically a suicide mission.”

  Tesla looked at me, his arched brows lifting from their eternal scowl. “I wanted to give the people the same thing I had.” He tossed the bread back down, disgusted by its dryness and took a sip of water to wash it down. “Hope. I want to give people hope. To free people as I was freed. I don’t want to be comfortable all my life while others are imprisoned and tortured by the Anarchists. It would be wrong…”

  I nodded, looking at Barak. His eyes seemed like coals—black as midnight and ready to set the room on fire. He experienced that same pain Tesla spoke of. Endured years of it… and I only knew pieces. It appeared he liked to not think of it—to not remember the horrors. He laughed at our current situation, but, something was there—laced between the steel of his gaze. For a second, that wall of fierce power dropped, and I glimpsed the young boy the man in front of me said he’d buried. He still lived below the surface.

  My eyelids grew heavy and my muscles became limp. Despite my best efforts, my lids began to shut on their own. “Please tell me I’m the only one who is suddenly exhausted…” I muttered between the fight to stay awake.

  “No… you are not.” Barak’s voice was weak, followed closely by Tesla’s cup falling on the hard stone floors.

  It dawned on me. The sickening feeling mixed with nausea.

  They drugged us.

  F O R T Y - O N E

  MY MUSCLES TWITCHED AND my fingers tingled. I opened my eyes—squinting as the surrounding candles flickered brightly. Shackles secured my arms, torso, and legs to a stiff chair in a dimly lit room.

  “Ah, ki prysonia vegli,” Barak announced as I blinked. An insult, I gathered.

  I scowled, looking around the room and seeing Barak chained down to a similar chair. He looked far more composed than I assumed I looked. In fact, he looked almost listless and unbothered.

  “How long have we been out?” I pulled at the metal clasps about my wrists, but, the intense tightness would prove difficult for me to escape the hold.

  “Io kontaga,” Barak whispered, looking over his shoulder toward the sliver of a window. I tried to piece together what it meant… but, my mind seemed fogged.

  “I…” He bit the inside of his cheek. Was he, too, trying to hurdle over our language gap? The potion must have affected the clarity of his mind as much as it had mine. “I… woke up just a moment ago.”

  I nodded, swallowing the fear that crept up into my stomach. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Barak looked at me, his eyes narrowing, “Well deduced. Why have I not realized that sooner?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, what will we do? I can only assume they have treated all the others the same way.”

  “Which would make our escape more complicated than we first assumed.” Barak moved his wrist around in the cuff, chewing his cheek pensively. “Let us hope Tesla does not lose his head. If he can keep his cool, then we should all be fine.”

  Nervousness wired through me. “I’d feel a lot better if I knew why we’re chained up here in this room.”

  Barak’s chest rose and fell in a deep breath. He remained silent. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “Barak?”

  He rolled his lips, looking at me through the side of his eye, “How well do you fight when injured?”

  My breath caught in my lungs. “We’re in a torture chamber aren’t we?”

  The door opened before Barak could answer, and a man walked in. His face covered by a red hood, and his body was cloaked in a white robe. In his right hand he carried a box, sealed with the emblem of the Anarchists. An upside down A, shaped like a mountain peak.

  “I have not seen one of you in a while.” Barak smiled at the man who entered, pulling the Anarchist’s attention to him. “Tell me, Vinadi, do you thirst for blood?

  A chuckle broke out from behind the mask as the man turned away from Barak. “I’ve been around long enough to recognize when someone is trying to protect someone else,” the man said in a voice thick and coarse from age. He opened the case, revealing an assortment of knives, clips, saws, and more. “I’ll start with your friend here, then I’ll work my way to you.”

/>   Barak’s muscles tightened, and my heart dropped into my stomach. The man worked his way over to me, pressing his icy fingers against my neck.

  “Your pulse is rather slow for someone in your situation,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. The process won’t take too long… depending on your compliance levels. Now, tell me, who sent you?”

  I scowled, refusing to speak.

  “Is your friend dumb?” The man turned his cloaked head.

  “Judging from your accent, you’re an eastern Luxterrian?” I muttered, hoping to distract the man.

  “Ah, so he can speak.” The man turned his head and for the first time, I saw the glittering gray-green of his eyes. “Should be fun. I have time.”

  A sour lump formed in my throat. My pulse quickened as he walked around, pressing his scalpel to my arm.

  “I’ll try not to ruin any of those nerves.”

  “With how much you’re getting on them, I doubt they will ever recover.”

  Barak chuckled from behind the man.

  The torturer pressed his knife to my skin, piercing the flesh. Red hot pain shot through my arm and chest. I bit back the sting of the knife as it traced my bicep and worked its way around to the most tender muscles. My back ignited with heat, and the pain pulsed through my torso. Something made him pause.

  “What’s this.” He poked the brand on my ribs, his eyes meeting mine. “Explain what this is!”

  I clenched my teeth, my heart thundering in my chest.

  “Your kind… you aren’t supposed to be here in these lands anymore!”

  “You know who we are now, don’t you?” I growled through clenched teeth.

  “I know what you are. Rangers. What are you doing here?” The man dug his knife deeper into my flesh, and white-hot pain shot down my nerves.

  “Stop!” Barak snapped, rousing the Anarchist’s attention.

  “Why should I?” The Anarchist dug in deeper. My mind a haze between pain and reality. The chains that bound Barak rattled and clinked.

  “You will get nothing out of him.” Barak’s clipped words were more Fiermontian in tone than I had heard before. “Neither of us will give you anything.”

  “I will get answers, but not from this mixed breed—” he said, pressing his thumb against the fresh wound. Pain blurred my vision as I tried my best from yelling. “How my superiors will rejoice when I get answers from you, Fiermontian.”

  Barak nodded, a smile working its way into his eyes. “Good luck, Vinadi.”

  The man sharpened his instrument. Like a doctor, he pressed the scalpel into Barak’s shoulder. Blood pooled from the wound, dripping down his arm and chest as the man traced the tender flesh. Barak’s jaw clenched tight as the blade drove along his torso, but he refused to make a sound. The man continued along, till he made a sharp cut downward and a muffled cry of pain escaped Barak’s clenched teeth.

  “That was the right lateral pectoral nerve,” the man whispered. “I merely nicked it.”

  Sweat formed on Barak’s brow as he glared daggers at the man, yet, he remained perfectly silent.

  “Fiermontians…” the man grumbled, changing out the blade as he looked at me. “Too much pride in there to do any good.”

  “Why do you wear a mask?” I asked, keeping his attention on me.

  “We have reasons.”

  “You’re a coward… that’s what I think.”

  The man clenched his bloodied fist. A hollow formed in the pit of my stomach. Barak’s blood. That hollow filled with fire—burning and heated.

  “I agree. They are all cowards.” Barak’s voice sounded confident. Too confident for someone who was latched down to a torture chair.

  I turned my head, following the man’s line of sight. Barak was sitting up on the chair. His hands unshackled, he flipped a thin needle in his hand. “So, tell me…” he began as he picked the locks to his feet. “Have you sat here, not able to move? To be tortured?”

  The man stumbled a step backward. He was used to working on defenseless humans, tied down and restrained, not familiar with one loose and walking around.

  “You should really be more careful with how close you stand to your victims, Vinadi.”

  The man went to dart to the door. Too late. That needle Barak had flew through the air, embedding into his leg. The man screamed, just as Barak’s tall figure stood betwixt him and the exit. He grabbed the man’s coat collar, ripping off the hood. His sunburnt skin made his sage eyes look even more pale. “How are you powering the Tego Runes?”

  The man recoiled, swallowing his saliva so loud it caused an echo. “I don’t know! Only the engineers do.”

  I could see the irritation on Barak’s face. He turned his body toward the door, and the entire room shifted into something dark and horrifying. “Fine.” He grabbed the man up by the neck, taking a few strides across the room with him in tow. With little effort, Barak threw the man onto the chair, and fastened his wrists into the metal clasps.

  “Barak…” I pulled at the restraints, hoping to put a stop to whatever had taken over him. “We should get out of here.”

  He ignored me. His muscles tense; his eyes locked onto the man in front of him. “People like you deserve to die,” Barak’s voice dropped into a deep, menacing growl.

  “Barak, leave him—”

  “Why?” His eyes snapped to mine. “So he can torture others?”

  Before I could reply he took out the blade once more and pressed it against the man’s jugular. Red blood dripped down the man’s neck, coursing over Barak’s hand. There was something primal about it. The sound of the man’s silent, dying cries and the darkness that had taken over Barak seemed like I had gone to Lapp.

  “Bruceri shi danto. Pessi fier di Dracul divi tua anim,” Barak spoke in his native tongue, sending chills up and down my spine. You will burn. May the fire of Dracul devour your soul for eternity.

  F O R T Y - T W O

  BARAK LET THE MAN’S body go limp, watching as he dropped lifeless.

  “Well, look’s like I won’t be needin’ to subdue that fella,” Duncan said, opening the door. “Thought you two would fare better than this.”

  Barak raised his brow, looking the man up and down. “You look like you have not even a scratch.”

  “I have me ways. Plus, I don’t accept food and drink from the enemy. It’s just a foolish thing to do.”

  I laughed, despite the pain in my arm. Soon, Tesla unlatched my bounds. “Where is Niall and Crimsyn?” I asked.

  “They were working on a way to let out all the prisoners without causing a riot,” Tesla said, tossing me my shirt and coat.

  “Good to know. So, what now?” I looked at Barak who grinned.

  “We find out how they are powering the Runes.”

  ___

  My arm stung as I wrapped it up. With my shirt and coat on once again, I pulled an ax off of the wall, checking its balance. Surprised at the lightness of the weapon, I conceded to use it. “You ready?” I asked, looking over at Barak.

  He pressed a cloth to his wound, “Almost…”

  I raised my brow, noting the weakness in his voice. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, “I think he nicked more than a nerve. The bleeding, ni sia espardi.” He pulled the cloth away from his chest, revealing the blood that continued to drip.

  “We need to get that looked at.” I walked over to him, pressing a fresh cloth to his wound. “I need to maintain pressure. This might hurt.”

  He grinned, “Do your worst.”

  I sighed, pressing hard against the wound. Barak clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw feathering. After several minutes, I let up. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but, the wound was still open. “I don’t think you should continue, Barak. You lost a lot of blood—”

  “Shimiane,” he interrupted. “I will not let you go alone.”

  “I’ll have more to worry about if you keel over in the middle of a fight. You should stay with Duncan, and I’ll take Crimsyn.”


  Barak winced, “I would rather you take Niall.”

  “You heard what Duncan said. Crimsyn is the person you want at your back. They’ve survived this long…”

  “I do not trust her.” Barak groaned and shifted his weight. I could tell from his hesitance he wasn’t happy about the situation. But, I knew Barak was logical. He would choose the path which would be best for everyone. After several long seconds of him thinking, he nodded. “Fine. Take Crimsyn with you. Niall, me, Duncan and Tesla will get the prisoners out of here. I expect to see you before the fourth hour!”

  I nodded, giving him a mock salute, “I wouldn’t dare disobey orders, Captain.”

  ___

  We descended the hall, our heads covered with Anarchists hoods. We passed each soldier without a single notice in our direction. After we climbed down to the lowest corridors and weaved between the guards, we finally entered a large room. Dark oak beams arched upward and buttressed the gray brick walls. The flagstone ground, wet and dark, reflected the delicate white glow of the creatures.

  “By the teeth of the Snowbeast.” Crimsyn gasped, looking around. “Those are horned horses.”

  “There’s over three dozen,” I whispered after noticing all the horses restrained within small stalls. “They’re using the horned horses’ abilities to power the Runes?”

  “This is… beyond anything I’ve seen,” Crimsyn said, her voice a low whisper.

  I gestured to the stalls, “Now we know the how, why don’t we put a wrench in the clockwork?”

  Crimsyn stayed silent, the corners of her mouth twisting into a grin. I guessed that was her way of saying yes. With her parting left, I took the right.

  “Sir, we need you to leave. This area is off limits to all except engineers.” A man held up his hand as he stood between me and one of the horse stalls. “Please exit the same way you entered.”

  I pulled out the ax I had sheathed in the baldric behind my back and thrust the face of the weapon into the man’s jaw. He fell unconscious to the ground.