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

by J. M. Ivie

  Crimsyn didn’t allow the other engineers in the room a chance to speak before she brought her maces down on their skulls. Her movements were liquid, fierce, cold. A true Arclendian warrior.

  “Either he has a glass jaw, or you hit harder than normal people.”

  I turned to see a young man sitting on the edge of a stool with a chain around his neck. He was frail, nearly starved judging from the sunken-in state of his face. An Arclendian like Crimsyn.

  “Prisoner?”

  “More like slave, but that works.” He pointed to his restraints, “Take these off, and I’ll help.”

  I raised my brow, uncertain if I should trust the boy.

  He sighed, the surrounding chains jingling as he shifted his weight. “Listen, I will be honest with you. I want out of here. If I can get out of here and bring down the building? I’d count that a good day.”

  I groaned, walking over to him. “Tell me what to do first, then I’ll let you go.”

  “I’m not about to give up my bargaining card that quickly. Off with the chains and I’ll show you what you need to do.”

  Everything in my gut told me to not trust him, but the situation convinced me otherwise. I removed the keys from the fallen engineer, and unlatched the chains.

  His eyes, like shards of ice, locked onto mine, “All right. If you and your friend there want to save the horned horses, you must cut the power cord from the Runes—” he jumped up on his chair, gesturing to a pair of thick metal scissors beside me. “Once you cut the cord, the horses will need a few minutes to recoup before they can leave.”

  “How do we get them out of here?” I asked.

  “There’s a secret tunnel hidden behind that shelf over there—” he pointed toward a large oak shelf stacked high with books. “It’s opened by the green book at the far left corner.”

  I handed him the scissors. “How do you know so much?”

  “I’ve been down here a long time,” he muttered, clipping away at the wires. “Let’s just say, I’m lucky to be in this shrapp filled hole with all these smelly horses. It’s better than where I was before.”

  I nodded. “What’s your name?”

  “Zane.” He looked at me, tossing back the scissors, “And yours?”

  “Apollo.”

  He grinned, “All right, Apollo. Let’s get these beasts out of here.”

  F O R T Y- T H R E E

  I LEAPT TO THE SIDE NARROWLY avoiding the attacks. With a steady overhand strike, I jabbed the end of my ax into the neck of my assailant, kicking the one behind me in the knee and knocking one in the throat. I continued this barrage of attacks till most of the men had dwindled down to nearly nothing. Barak, busy trying to keep the oncoming soldiers at bay, was oblivious to my angered stare.

  Throwing off another man, I drew a baton from my belt. The metal thudded against the man’s head, and he toppled over unconscious.

  “Tesla!” I looked around, “Have the pack?”

  “Yes!” He raised the rucksack high, tossing me a vial.

  I cursed, barely catching it. “We could have all died.”

  “I thought assassins could catch anything?” Tesla gulped. “My mistake. Hurry and put that in the boiler room! Once I get these potions set, all the Anarchists and prisoners will high-tail out of here. You will have five minutes!”

  I nodded and hurriedly ran over to the door where Zane was. “Is he still inside?”

  “Yes. He moved a little. Better get him out of here now…” Zane motioned to the door.

  I pulled it open, reaching in and grabbing the man. He was a burly little man, with a protruding forehead and slouched jawline. His dull brown eyes stared at me in horror. I raised my hand to my small brigade, “I’m going in!”

  After running down the steps, I skidded to a stop at the base of the hallway. My heart slowed as I gripped my ax. The silence was far different from where I had just come. The damp, blue-gray stones reflected the flickering light of the torches. Twisted archways opened into rooms shrouded in darkness or guarded by the doors. The clattering of my boots made a subtle echo. I stood at the entrance of a door along the corridor. Though, I stopped, the sound of my boots kept going for two more steps.

  Not my steps.

  I spun around and vaulted atop my assailant. I fell into the dark room just behind me, bringing with me the body of another person. Blades glittered, and rough hands pulled at the lapel of my coat.

  I threw my knee into his gut, then used the heel of my boot to kick him off completely. He stumbled back, shoulders squared and breath echoing in the empty room. His knife glinted in the dull light that flitted in. He charged.

  With a quick jab, I thrust the butt of my ax in the man’s face. The sound of the cartilage snapping below the pressure assured me of the impact. I turned and noticed three other men standing in the room.

  So it would be this way? I don’t have time to humor them.

  I stepped to the side, elbowing the man nearest in the throat. I wrapped my arm around his neck and used him as a shield against the other two who approached. With the ax firmly in my grip, I thrust the blade into the skull of the more persistent one.

  Releasing my hold on the Anarchist, I threw the ax into the pit behind his knee. His screams echoed. I couldn’t pay him mind. The last Anarchist was far more talented than the other two.

  His face, shrouded by the shadows, allowed only a doleful smile to show. A smile which could haunt the dreams of a man.

  He spoke in native Arcledic, a tongue I didn’t know or understand. Few Arclendians spoke Aechin and it only seemed to be among the native tribes which lived in the mountains. This man was unlike the rest. He would put up a fight unlike the others.

  Fire lit in my veins as I listened to the haunting words he spoke. Words with meanings beyond my understanding. I watched as he moved, like an agile cat in the shadows awaiting my move—my attack.

  “You speak not the Aechin tongue?” His words sounded like the snapping of branches, cut, slow, and without a breath. “I shall kill you, Ranger. You will stop killing my kind.”

  “Your kind?” I spat. “Your kind is your fellow Arclendians. Your kind is the other humans who live and breathe!”

  “You don’t speak!” Saliva hurled from the man’s mouth as he shouted, “You slaughter my people! My brothers!” He pounded his fist on his chest. I couldn’t escape the screaming agony in his voice. The hatred toward me and the grief that fed it. For the first time I saw Anarchists as they were—people like me. They were confused and thinking they were doing the right thing. People who had found a family in a band of misfits.

  “Don’t—” I practically begged him to surrender. Despite the torture inside me, pleading to spare him, I knew this was war. “Don’t make me.”

  “I kill you.”

  “If you try to kill me,” I muttered, “I will destroy you…”

  The man cocked his head to the side, now revealing the nearly translucent blue of his eyes. “Sounds like challenge.”

  “It’s a plea.”

  Despite my warnings, my pleadings, he lunged forward, blade in hand.

  It wasn’t me. It was as if my body reacted. The blade of my ax collided with the breast of the Arclendian.

  After the loud crack of his bones, everything fell silent.

  ___

  We arrived back at camp. Fueled by rage, my anger kindled as I replayed the scene. The building had crumbled to the ground. I made sure nothing remained but a pile of rock and stone. I walked steadily to Barak’s tent, throwing open the flap. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” Barak growled, removing his tunic and tossing it aside.

  “That! Back in the citadel! That was supposed to be rescue only.”

  Barak’s gritted his teeth as he pulled on a shirt over his head, tugging at the collar of the red material. “I was just doing my job, Apollo.”

  “No, you were doing what you wanted. We could have lost lives!”

  He turned and looked at me. H
is face revealed his anger met mine. “But we did not, did we? And now we have a high ranking Anarchist commander.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” My fingers went numb, and my heart raced.

  “No, I believe you are the one who does not understand.” He exhaled a long, frustrated breath as he looked me over. “Your past is at rest, Apollo. Your mother is dead, and the man who killed her is also dead. For me? I still have yet to find the man who ordered my family to be killed. Perhaps now I will get answers.”

  “Barak—”

  “No, Apollo. Let me do this. It need not involve you.”

  Before I could even hope to have protested, Barak turned his back and exited the tent.

  ___

  I walked through the forest trees and dodged the logs that peppered the ground. My head filled with thoughts, wondering what I should say to Barak.

  “Ah! Apollo!” Niall called out, “I was telling them of the time where I nearly bashed your head in, using nothing but a pebble!” Niall pounded on his barrel-shaped chest.

  “For everyone’s information, it was a large rock.” I rolled my eyes, trying to earn back some of my dignity. I sat with them by impulse.

  “You look troubled, my boy. Something on your mind?” Duncan asked as he handed me a cup filled with steaming root tea.

  I took the drink and slowly sipped on it. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day I suppose.”

  They nodded. A few minutes of quiet passed before Crimsyn coughed and turned her attention to Zane. “So, why you were down in that hole, flyboy?” she asked, raising her brow. “How does a Peregrine Rider get captured by Anarchists? I thought you guys travel in groups of twelve or something.”

  A Peregrine Rider?

  He shrugged, leaning forward. “I was off duty. I had just landed on the Island of Luxterra and was preparing to board the train when I was caught off guard. You can’t do much in a busy station surrounded by thousands of travelers,” he muttered, scratching his neck. That’s when I saw, for the first time, the long scar that ran down his left elbow and ended at his wrist. There was a hint of a tattoo by the crook of his arm, one I couldn’t make out. “I woke up not too long afterward, chained in a cell. There’s really not much more I can say, since you guys found me not too long afterward.”

  Crimsyn nodded, drinking her root tea with a satisfied smirk. “Sounds like a string of tough luck. Think you’ll go back to the Riders?”

  Zane quickly nodded. “I have no other choice.”

  “Why did you choose to be a Rider?” I asked, pouring myself another cup of root tea.

  Zane shrugged, turning his eyes away. “It’s a long story. One I’d prefer to not speak of…”

  We all stayed silent for a long while afterward until Crimsyn spoke once again, “Well now I just need to know your story, Apollo. Why are you, this crazy eyed brute—” she said, poking Niall in the ribs, “and Mr. Mysterious here?”

  Niall laughed, taking a bite of his food, “The Hound is a strange man. He is only here because he is loyal to one.” He raised his brow, looking at me; a silent point in my direction.

  I smiled, shaking my head, “It’s a long story…”

  “We have time,” Zane piped up, eager to get the topic off himself and on to someone else, it seemed.

  I nodded, taking in a short, deep breath before talking. “I had just gotten married.” I dropped my eyes and examined the contents of my cup. “On Oceland in a tucked-away forest chapel run by a no-name Lawman. We thought it’d be safe there.” I swirled the dark liquid around, watching the bubbles form along the sides. “We didn’t even have time to let it all sink in before it happened—” My lungs stung, and a lump formed inside my heart.

  “Before what happened?” Niall asked, leaning forward.

  I took a deep breath. “Before someone took my wife from me.”

  They looked at me. The looks on their faces seemed to ask for more… but, there was no more I wished to remember or speak. The memory pained me. “Anyway, I was brought to the Woodlands, and the rest is history. When I went to go look for Zahra once more, Ryanne, another Ranger, captured me and brought me back to Siege Veil. That’s where this guy comes in.” I grinned, looking at Niall who nodded. “He got me out, and now we are all here.”

  Tesla smiled, “Sounds like an adventure.” He turned and quirked his brow to Crimsyn, “Now it’s only fair you tell your story, Crim. Tell the guys how you got here.”

  She shook her head, waving her hand to dismiss the question. “You already know why, Tes. You and Duncan here. I need not bore the guys with my story.”

  “No, please…” I heard Barak’s voice from beyond the tree line as he approached the fire. “Do tell your story.”

  She grinned, “So, he arrives! Where were you off brooding at?”

  He just raised his brow and sat, ignoring her joke. “Go on. I would enjoy hearing how you joined the group.”

  Crimsyn nodded, rolling her shoulders. Something about the question made her uncomfortable, and I wasn’t sure why.

  “I’m the Queen of a small kingdom in Arclend. Dashiell, seventy miles west of Isangal.” She took a deep breath. “It was destroyed ten years ago under the united kingdoms action enforced by the Arclend Senate. They gave my people the option to conform or be killed. They chose the former, and I had to run.”

  Niall and I leaned forward, interested in what she was saying.

  “I ended up in the clutches of some bandits, Wyvern Riders. They were preparing to bargain with the Arclend Senate for a large sum of money—roughly fifteen hundred Turretts.” Crimsyn looked at Duncan. “I was lucky. Duncan showed up just before the bandits sealed the deal and sent me off to my death.”

  Duncan grinned, nodding. “She’s been a thorn in my side ever since.”

  Crimsyn stuck her thumb under her chin. “He’s a grump.” She laughed, shaking her head as she leaned back, “Going back isn’t an option. The only thing I can hope to do is help Duncan release Anarchist prisoners. The islands won’t do it, and I sure as Lapp won’t sit idly by while the Anarchists climb in numbers.”

  We all nodded. Soon the area grew quiet as we sat in thought. I could only assume their minds wandered the same as mine… To the past and uncertain future.

  ___

  The tent was dark. Only a few flickering candles cast small halos of light in the corners of the room. Barak sat on the one side, and I sat on the other. It was quiet. Duncan stood between the both of us, staring at the man from the raid. He was slumped over, unconscious. His rounded shoulders pointed back while his nub-like chin fell on his chest. Tesla had tied him securely to the chair, and I felt a pang of guilt tug at my heart.

  “Wake up,” Duncan patted the cheek of the slumbering prisoner, who woke in a daze.

  “What are you going to do?” His voice sounded labored, caught between breaths and suffocation. It hurt just to hear him speak.

  “We will ask you questions.” I stood and walked around his chair. “If you cooperate, no harm will come to you.”

  “And if I don’t? Will you hurt me?”

  I smiled. “It is against my conscience to torture a man.”

  He looked relieved, at least, until Barak stood.

  “But, it is not against his.”

  The man took in a sharp breath. I had to admit he was remaining as calm as he could in his situation.

  “Where are the other Anarchist bases?” Barak asked, switching with me and pacing around the room. He circled the chair, his heavy footsteps crunching the leaf-covered earth. “And what do you know of the Tego Runes?”

  The man laughed, his eyes darting between me and Duncan. “You’re foolish…” He looked at us, grinning like a troll. “I won’t betray my brothers.”

  Barak’s fist connected to the man’s face once. Twice. Three times until blood trickled from the cut on his cheek. “We can dance all day, Vinadi. So, until you answer my questions, I will not let up.”

  The man grinned, “Start the music, Fie
rmontian.”

  F O R T Y- F O U R

  I THREW MYSELF INTO MY COT. “How the Lapp are we going to get anywhere with him? He’s tougher than we had given him credit for.”

  “Apollo, calm down.” Barak sat across from me, brows knitting together tightly. I could tell from his face the situation concerned him. “We will just need to find new ways to interrogate him.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t like this Barak.”

  “You do not have to.” He scowled, “You only need to go along with it. I will get it out of him soon enough.”

  My stomach twisted in knots, “Barak. I don’t think torture is a good option. If we bring him to the Woodlands, I am sure they have a potion that—”

  “Apollo, I appreciate your newfound conscience. But, I dislike that it is getting in my way. So, please, keep your distance.”

  ___

  “We need to be getting back to the Woodlands,” Duncan muttered, looking at me as he stoked the flames. “Unless your friend there can get the fella to talk.”

  “I’m not sure if he can. That troll seems set on remaining quiet.” I sat near the fire, popping the tense muscles in my neck. “And Barak’s set on staying here till he cracks him.”

  “Sounds like we are in a predicament.” Duncan rolled his sleeves up before throwing a handful of sticks into the flames.

  I laughed, agreeing we were stuck no matter what. Breathing in, I looked at Duncan, wondering why he was here. Everyone shared their stories… except for him.

  “So, Duncan,” I began, rolling my lips. “What makes you do this? You have a family, but, you’re out here risking your life.”

  A slight chuckle escaped him as he tilted his head to face me. “You have children and see. I’d give up my life ten times over to make sure they can live in a safe world. A free world. I’ll make that happen… or I’ll die trying.”

  I breathed in and looked up at the sky which darkened over. What he said reminded me of the man on the train. I assumed him to be mad, confusing me with someone else. The question surfaced on my tongue, “Have you heard of Clades?”