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

by J. M. Ivie

  Her lips pressed tightly together and her muscles went stiff. It took a moment before she tentatively responded. “All right.”

  I wasn’t fully convinced, but, I smiled and accepted her words as a promise. “Thank you, Laramie.”

  S I X T Y - F I V E

  THE TAVERN SMELT AS BAD as it looked. The stench of acid drifted into my nose, mixed with body odor and smoke. I settled into a seat, thumbing restlessly at the rubye in my hand.

  “You looking for something here, boy?” The tavern master slapped the gray towel over his shoulder. His round face puckered into a scowl.

  “I’m looking for information…” I looked up. He was far larger than I realized.

  “What kind?” The man’s jagged, toothless smile looked more like a fleshy, open wound.

  “Information regarding a man. I’m looking for him.”

  The tavern master’s face dropped.

  “He’s a friend of mine. Been missing for a while…”

  “What’s the fella look like?”

  I swallowed, “About six-foot two… long, black hair. Fiermontian. He has an accent that wouldn’t be hard to miss.”

  “All Fiermontians look alike,” said the man. “You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

  I grunted. What else can I say? “He always looks like he’s planning to kill you…” I hissed a breath. “He always wears a dragon pendant necklace, and—”

  “Oh,” the man coughed. “I know the guy. Tried to buy the necklace from him.”

  Relief flooded my heart. “Where can I find him?”

  The tavern master smiled again… something I wish he didn’t do. “A turrett and I’ll tell ya.”

  Whatever relief I had was suddenly yanked away. “I don’t have a turrett…”

  “Then you’re gonna be looking for that Fiermontian for a long time.”

  I gritted my teeth. I could just beat the information from him. It would make everything easier.

  “You can always try winning money.” The tavern master turned his head, pointing his chin to a table behind me.

  “Gamble?”

  “It’s easy pickings today.”

  I doubted that. I didn’t have much money on me… just enough to get by.

  “You have little to lose.”

  “I have everything to lose if you haven’t been paying attention.”

  “Looks like you need some extra coinage jingling in your pockets.” The tavern master shrugged his rolling shoulders, wiping the counter. “Up to you.”

  I turned again, watching the men shuffle through the deck. I used to be great at that game… a royal guard with a knack for getting a good hand. The drunken gamblers rousing about the table looked just as the man said. Easy pickings. “Deal me in.”

  ___

  After the first round, I doubled what I had. After the third round, I had made more coinage than I had during that final month on Dahkhall. I considered stopping, but the amount of luck I experienced was too good…

  Until a man walked in.

  Barak.

  His eyes flicked toward me, igniting like a forge when he saw the coinage splattered across the table and the cards in my hand. Barak moved over toward the fireplace, his tall figure looming over the crackling flames, taking in the seconds that passed by. A single copper rimmed clock ticked on the black wood wall just above the red-curtained window.

  I looked at the dealer and bowed out of the game.

  “You can’t bow out now, mister!” A few of the men around the table were red-faced and foaming.

  I growled. “We finished the round.”

  “We want a chance to earn back what you took!”

  I slid the money into a bag. “No, thank you.”

  A man grabbed my shoulder, trying to wrench the coinage from my hand.

  Instinct took over and I elbowed the man in the face. Blood oozed from the man’s nose. Before I knew it, all five other men surrounded me.

  “What are you doing here?” Barak asked.

  “I was looking for you…” I whispered, keeping my eyes trained on the men.

  “By gambling?”

  I clenched my teeth. “There was a chance at information, but I didn’t have enough coinage.” I held up the pouch, “Looks like I made out all right.”

  Barak released a breathy chuckle, looking at the men. “Beat it.”

  “We aren’t takin’ orders from you Fiermontian!” said one of the men.

  “You either take orders, or you can have your brains splattered across the floorboards.” Barak thumbed the clawed knuckles tucked under his coat. “I am sure the owner of this establishment will be upset to have his floors sullied with your blood.”

  The men spat, popping their fingers.

  “Come on…” one of them said. “It isn’t worth fighting a Fiermontian for. Not worth our time.” He threw a warring glance my way. “We will get our money back.”

  I couldn’t tell if I should be worried or not. Deciding I shouldn’t, I followed Barak as he weaved through the crowded tavern and out into the street.

  “It is as if I am running in circles,” he said, keeping in step with me. His hair was longer, and he had tied it up. It was an odd sight, seeing him becoming as drawn as this. “Are you all in good health? How is Laramie?”

  “We are good.”

  “Any signs of Crimsyn or Niall?”

  I shook my head.

  Barak took in a sharp breath. I could see his jaw tighten.

  “Nice town you’ve got here.”

  “It is, is it not?” Barak grinned, pointing to an inn beside me. “It is the hive. You find many Anarchists flooding into this town.”

  “That’s what I gathered. I supposed I would find you where the action was…”

  Barak barely smiled, “I should rethink my strategy if I am that predictable.”

  We entered a small cabin just off the side of a sloping hill and obscured by aspens. The dismal gray clouds hung low, like a sea of mist and shadow. Light flickered in the weather-worn windows. Barak pulled two, thin picks from his coat, wedging it in the keyhole.

  “Easier than a key?”

  “Lost the key…” Barak raised a brow. The door swung open and he removed his coat, knives, and claws. He halted in his steps, looking out the window. “If you can, step in there and keep quiet,” he said, motioning to the bedroom.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Barak shook his head, “No time to explain. Whatever you do, do not step out.”

  I walked into the room, just as the door to the cabin burst open. Four soldiers piled in, each wearing the bronze pin of an eagle. They must have been sent by those men. Looking at the four who entered, Barak straightened his body. The muscles in his jaw clenched as his dark eyes evaluated each one.

  “What are you doing here?” Barak asked, doing his best to suppress his Fiermontian accent.

  “For you,” one soldier declared, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. He glanced around the room. “Where is your friend?”

  “I have no friends.”

  “There is a report he’s a cheat,” the man said. “Just tell us where your friend is.”

  “I have no friends,” Barak said again, more intense than the last time.

  The man shrugged, no doubt thinking he will deal with me later. One man nudged the captain in the ribs, pulling out a paper. A moment of agonizing silence passed before the captain straightened and schooled his features to look as stern as he could. “Is your name Chigaru-Baraka?”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  The soldier pulled his sword. “You are charged with multiple accounts of murder and torture. By the orders of the Priest and his Council, we are to bring you in.”

  Barak nodded. There was something in his eyes.

  Three of the men scurried around Barak. I wanted to jump out and help… but, I wasn’t sure what was happening… why Barak was letting them do this.

  One guard carried chains, one had ropes and a
bottle filled with a bright red liquid. My heart stuttered. Roja.

  “I must be an important man if my activities alerted the Priest of all the islands.” Barak’s smile only touched his eyes.

  “Watch your tongue, Chigaru-Baraka. The Priest will want to see your execution personally. We want to be sure you are good and dead.”

  Barak nodded, the smile finally reaching his lips. “He may wish me dead all he likes,” Barak mumbled as the men chained him, “but he will never see me die.”

  It appeared Barak wanted the men to know he was chained… relatively defenseless in their eyes.

  Barak spun quick to his left and clipped one of the soldier’s heels. Dodging a strike, he kicked the other man with so much force they flew through the side door. Surprise caught the third when Barak head-butted him in the nose. As if a contortionist took control over Barak’s body, he pulled his arms, which they chained behind him, in front. He had done it with such speed and precision I didn’t have time to keep up.

  The first man jumped back up with his sword in hand, followed closely by the fourth guard. Barak turned and pulled the clock from the wall. With a flick of his wrist he threw it like a disk. The timepiece thudded as it clocked one man in the head so loud the bell inside rang.

  Barak jumped and grabbed a rafter and pulled himself up with ease. He used his momentum to fling himself across the room, grabbing hold of a long traveling stick that rested in the corner.

  The soldiers charged, swinging their weapons in a wild frenzy. Barak jabbed the end of the traveling stick into the nearest man’s eye, then whacked the other soldier against the temple with the other end.

  With half his weight on the pole, and half through the air, Barak swung himself around and rammed the steel toe of his boot to the jaw of the eye-sore soldier. This knocked the man unconscious, leaving Barak at three to one. The man who had been flung outside came running back in while his companion—who Barak had head-butted just a moment prior—finally regained his senses.

  “You can’t take us all at once!” shouted the one with the bloody nose.

  “Oh?” Barak laughed, looking at the soldiers. “I seem to be doing well so far.”

  The soldiers charged him. Barak used the chains around his wrists to catch a sword and flung it from its wielder’s grasp. It was in the same beat he grabbed the sword and ran the nearest advancing soldier through the gut.

  The last two soldiers, one with a sword and one without, ran his way. Barak stepped to the side, slicing the ankle tendon of the weaponless one, and slit the throat of the other. Barak knelt down beside the one reeling in pain and pressed his heel to the tendon.

  “Now,” Barak muttered after the blood-curdling scream subsided. “You will take your friend and leave. You will return to the Vinadi who sent you, and you tell him this—” his voice trailed off as he whispered something in the man’s ear.

  The soldier shook, his body convulsing with every breath. “Y-yes…”

  ___

  I released a sigh as Barak and I walked toward Scout. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  “I have been all year, have I not?” Barak’s left brow quirked upward. “How is everyone?”

  “They’re good… as I already said,” I muttered through a smile, leaning against Scout. “I’m certain you’ve heard of the Woodlands.”

  Barak nodded. “I did not too long ago. Word travels slow. Has it been a year?”

  “Almost. The fourth month of winter will mark the year.”

  Barak huffed. “That is fast approaching. How is Princess Laramie faring?”

  I smiled and shook my head, “Despite everything, she is doing well. She’s becoming a sour little thing.”

  Barak laughed, scratching his jaw. “Still feisty I take it?”

  “Too much. I think you rubbed off on her.”

  Barak chuckled.

  “Any word from Mairead?”

  He paused as if he had to think about what he had to say. “Yes. Mairead has taken her spot as ruler of Freya.”

  “Is there more?”

  “You mean news of Mairead becoming engaged to the Emperor of Cathoon? Or perhaps the death warrant on my head? No.”

  I blinked hard.

  “Apollo, I am all right. You need not worry.”

  He said he was fine, a smile even flitted over his face, but I had a hard time believing him. He patted Scout.

  “Is there anything you want to say?”

  Barak looked at me, “Do you think there is?”

  I nodded.

  He pulled his glove from his hand. An iron ring was there on his finger. “She is prolonging the announcement as long as she can… while everything is sorted and a treaty is put in place.”

  “Sorted?”

  Barak’s grin was almost contagious.

  “You—” my breath caught in my throat. “By the head of the Serpent. I’m staring at the Emperor of Freya, aren’t I?”

  He bowed his head to me, “Travel safe, Apollo. I shall see you soon.”

  “Barak—really?”

  “I will send word.” He held up the note I had given him; the address to reach me by. “Perhaps sooner than you think.”

  S I X T Y - S I X

  “WHAT IN THE SAKE OF ALL things holy and pure!” Laramie screamed, holding her nose.

  “All right. Go ahead. Laugh!” I gagged and tugged my shirt off. The smell disgusted everything in me. It had been two days, and the pungent odor still gripped tightly to me and my clothes. Frustrated, I threw my shirt into a nearby basket. “Hand me that soap, would you?”

  “You’ll make the soap stink.” Laramie heaved, throwing the bar of soap across the room while covering her nose with her apron.

  I caught the bar in one hand, shaking my head. “Hilarious.” I sighed and began filling a bucket with water. “I realize how inconvenient a broken bathhouse actually is.”

  “I’m glad it’s broke. You’d make it smell so bad. Honestly, I think I am sleeping in a tent tonight!” Laramie sat in the chair opposite my room. “How did it even happen?”

  “I fell through the floorboards and into Smithson’s abandoned cellar. Little did I know a dozen pregnant Akushu were living there. Isn’t that explanatory enough?”

  “There were really a dozen pregnant Akushu down there?”

  “I’m not exaggerating.”

  She laughed. “Well, how did you get out?”

  I waved my finger at her, “A master never reveals his secrets.”

  Laramie shook her head. “I honestly don’t know how I will put up with this stink. How long will it be till you’re half decent to be around?”

  “Could be weeks!” I huffed, soaking the bar of soap in the bucket.

  “Oh, Welkinia! Please tell me that isn’t so. I’ll camp out in that cave!” Laramie coughed, her face contorting into a horrible mixture of disgust and mocking. “I’ll leave you alone. You and that—” she gagged again.

  I watched her leave, then immediately set to work. I wanted to get it out of my hair and face first, though, it seemed to grip tight to my skin with its noxious scent.

  I scrubbed and scrubbed, nearly running my skin raw; it did next to nothing to alleviate the stench. Finally, after I had run out of the water and nearly the bar, I gave up. I dried my face and torso and threw the towel aside. This would be a story I would tell later. Perhaps then it would be funny.

  ___

  It was nearly impossible to leave camp since I was a beacon with the unholy stench that poured off of my body. It stuck to me. At least now the smell was fainter and akin to a mixture of cabbage and sulfur.

  “Thank Sotiris!” Laramie breathed in the air. “You don’t smell half bad anymore!”

  “Thanks.” I raised my brow, shuffling through the basket of garments I had finished washing. “It has been nearly a week. Glad it’s not as pungent as yesterday.”

  “So am I.” Laramie smiled, inching closer. “Everyone in camp will finally be happy to see you again, instead of runni
ng for the hills.”

  I nodded, listening to her laugh. I felt bad about leaving her so often. I wished I could bring her with me more. After all the training we had done, I was certain she could carry herself out in the world. “Want to come with me to Fiermont?”

  Laramie’s laughter quelled as she raised her brow, “That was random. Why are you going to Fiermont?”

  “This—” I walked over to the bureau and pulled a ledger from a drawer. “Titus sent this through a very clumsy Mailcarrier.” I handed it to her, trying to gauge her feelings from her face. “In one week, there are plans on assassinating a friend of mine. Barak will be there helping me stop it.”

  Laramie bit her lip, deep in thought. “I can’t come with you.” She handed me the ledger, blinking a few times. “You’ll be too worried about me to focus on what you want to do. Go on. I’ll be all right here.” Laramie slid off the dresser with a smile. “Help your friend.”

  S I X T Y - S E V E N

  THE RUSH OF THE SUMMER BREEZE filled my lungs with it’s fresh and warm air. I opened my arms wide as Scout flew, weightless, through the skies. My hands touched the low hanging clouds which surrounded me. In the silence of the heavens I breathed out a long sigh of relief. Yet… something about this day seemed different. Shadows drifted in different ways. It was as if a new kind of darkness had been unleashed upon the land. I felt it in my bones.

  ___

  I arrived at the Kasai mountain pass, finding a whole troop of men camped along the rocky peaks. The clanking of their tools and bits resounded throughout the cavern. Every man in the area was either a bronze-skinned Fiermontian or red-faced from long hours spent under the hot sun. I hoped Barak would arrive before it was too late. I had expected he would arrive before me.

  “Apollo?”

  I spun around upon hearing that familiar, warm voice.

  “What in Welkinia?” Gaillard grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me into a tight hug. “I heard you were dead!”