Reshner's Royal Ranger

by Julie C. Gilbert

  His lean, yet muscled body had no flaws, save for a few battle scars. His face had an open, pleasant cast to it, whenever it suited him. Even his close-cropped blond hair stayed precisely in place, lending him an air of boyish innocence. He’d spent a decade mastering his body language. Every woman—except the one that counted—enjoyed gazing upon him. Reia had accepted his banistick, making a promise she had broken by returning the weapon with apologies.

  Lucas searched the crowd for his beloved. Failing to see her, he pulled a Target Tracker-189 from his caydronan sack. Most Rangers carried herbs, but Lucas preferred keeping medkits, trackers, and weapons handy. If the Rangers didn’t adapt soon, they would be ill-equipped to face new enemies. Irritation made him flush. The Rangers’ stupidity had made Maledek’s offer attractive.

  Despite initial reluctance, Lucas decided this mission was worthy of his time. It allowed him to safeguard Reia Antellio and fulfill his Alliance obligations. He might even impress Kolknir. In addition to being a legendary Ranger, the man had trained under the infamous Gardanian Shadow Guard.

  The TT-189 found Reia waiting two blocks up and one block over, close to where the royals gathered. Lucas grinned. Once Maledek ruled, he would win Reia’s love. He felt guilty for spying on her, but she would forgive him once he saved her life a few times. Knowing his speech to the Ashatan Council had placed her in danger compounded the guilt. The Kireshana had always been dangerous, but Maledek’s interest in the journey increased the danger exponentially.

  After memorizing Reia’s position, Lucas tucked the TT-189 away and jogged over several rooftops to see the royal procession. Alert for trouble, he stopped and scanned the crowds and nearby windows.

  A glint of light caught his attention.

  Lucas frowned. The RT Alliance liaison hadn’t mention an assassination attempt today, and Maledek had been clear about wanting the royal family alive for now.

  Measuring the distance from his current position to the sniper’s position across the street and one floor down, Lucas quickly backpedaled. A full-out sprint brought him to the roof’s edge. Launching himself forward, Lucas drew his banistick and aimed for the distant window. The rifle swung toward him. Lucas swatted the gun aside with his banistick and landed on the man with crushing force.

  Rolling the unconscious man into the light, Lucas looked upon the face of his enemy. He didn’t recognize the young man. A search through his pockets revealed a silver token embossed with the letters RT. Either somebody was setting up the RT Alliance to be blamed for King Teorn’s assassination or Lucas’s handlers didn’t think him important enough to include in their real plans.

  The recent alliance between the Restler and Tarpon families stirred up the political intrigue around the palace. As they grew bolder, Maledek insisted Lucas work closer with them. If controlled, they could be useful allies, but their shortsightedness could make them a nuisance. Whether real enemy or pretend, the boy would have to die.

  “Sorry, kid,” Lucas said, “but you knew the risks.”

  Out of respect for the man’s efforts and because he had better things to do, Lucas wasted no time in slitting the kid’s throat.

  JIRA (MARCH) 1, 1538

  Same Day

  Streets of Rammon, Capital of Reshner

  As the procession moved through the Market District, West Quarter, and out the West Gate, Prince Terosh Minstel’s stomach tightened.

  The streets brimmed with people in colorful finery. Every window and balcony blossomed with figures craning their necks and holding out children for the chance to see the royal family. A few citizens climbed lampposts and perched on rooftops to improve their sightlines. Even the poorest of the poor had donned presentable outfits and come out to see the royals. Terosh could not recall the last time his entire family had been out in public, and he did not envy the Royal Guards, Melian Maidens, and Palace Security guards today.

  Wish I could take a serlak rifle.

  Though his father considered serlak weapons low-class, Terosh would have felt better with a rifle. The kerlak pistol his father had given him could pack a punch, but its whiny noise hardly gave one the same sense of power as the crack of a serlak weapon.

  Terosh could almost hear Master Og’s impatient voice saying, To lose focus invites danger.

  Cheers crashed down upon Terosh in deafening waves. The smell of thousands of people pressed into one place combined with the sun’s oppressive heat. Fighting off nausea, Terosh sucked in a quick breath and wished for clouds. Even an acid storm would be preferable to the sun’s fierce attention. Straightening his shoulders, Terosh smiled and waved at the roaring crowd. Faces blurred as the guards hustled the royal entourage down the street toward the Kireshana’s starting point.

  His mother would have loved this. Terosh momentarily mourned her. Historians—and probably Tate—would remember Queen Kila as a demanding woman. They had not witnessed the long hours spent perusing plans and forging alliances. Terosh knew of her softer side. No doubt she had loved Taytron immensely as well, but she had also expected more from him. Their mother had usually been too busy to attend the nine-day Festival of Future Fighters, which preceded the Kireshana, but she’d always made time for the parade and official send off.

  Pride surged through Terosh at finally being among the batch of Royal Guards and Melian Maidens candidates. The Kireshana had always had special meaning for his family. Before the Kireshana, the Governors Council and Senate outranked a prince or princess, but afterward, he or she answered only to the king and queen.

  According to Master Og, Prince Remi had taken the first such journey in 1023, though it didn’t pick up the name until years later when Prince Davel described his uncle’s “renewing fire journey.” Since that time, very few royals have skipped the Kireshana.

  Why did Aunt Mavis skip her Kireshana? I wouldn’t miss it for anything.

  Though technically boys became men at age sixteen, Terosh considered this the true test. The night his father had agreed to let him join the Kireshana, he’d committed the route maps to memory.

  Start going northwest from Rammon. Cross the Balor Plains. Go northwest still. Enter and pass through the Calsol Forest. Rent horses and cross the Riden Flats to Huz Mon. Pay the salt mine masters their horse ransom. Face west to the Riden Mountains and go there for a zalok scale. After the mountains, travel west again to Resh, then south to Fort Riden. Swing south and bear slightly east again, back toward the Riden Mountains. Cross the mountains again at their southernmost point, Mount Palean. Move east through the Kesler Plains, Lotrian Fields, Kevil Plains, and back to Rammon.

  Terosh estimated his trip would take half a year, nowhere near Tate’s time, but then again, Tate had traveled much of the Kireshana by hov. Most derringers settled for riding horses because they couldn’t afford hovs, but adventure, not lack of money, held Terosh back. He thought of the amenities in Tate’s silver hov.

  Cheater.

  He cast a glance left at his brother. A small part of Terosh admitted that skimming a meter above the ground through much of the Riden Flats would be fun. He could retract the roof and feel the wind move around him.

  Tate’s bemused smile told Terosh he read the thoughts and didn’t care.

  Suddenly realizing Tate had stopped, Terosh halted and adjusted the new kerlinblade at his waist to cover the jerky motion. The black-handled weapon, another surprise gift from Father, was new enough to be unfamiliar. Terosh fingered the three control bars near the bottom of the handle, caressing each button and playing with the sliding panel that warded against accidents.

  Once again Master Og’s history lessons proved useful as Terosh reflected on kerlinblades. Princess Ariella Minstel had uttered the word, which means “fire light sword,” upon seeing the prototype about two hundred years ago. Sadly, Ariella had met a brutal end by a kerlinblade.

  “You’re going to wear that out before you start,” Tate commented.

  Terosh didn’t reply but quit fiddling with the kerlinblade.


  “Steady, Terry,” Taytron muttered, grasping Terosh’s arm. “This is your time. With luck, you’ll be back within the month.” Tate’s grin said he knew the estimate was ridiculous. Hovs would need to be used liberally to finish that quickly. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put on a good front but spent endless hours alone, mourning his wife and daughter.

  Irritation at the nickname balanced the sadness of Dr. Koffrin and Elia’s murders. Terosh wondered what it would have been like to have them here with Tate. The thought made their loss even more painful.

  Tate tugged him into a brief hug, stepped back, and bowed. As their eyes connected, Terosh saw the smoldering pain in his brother’s eyes. The solemn moment passed when a shadow fell over them. Terosh glanced back as his father’s arm landed heavily on his shoulders.

  “The Kireshana awaits thee, Prince Terosh,” boomed King Teorn. “Make thy king and people proud.”

  Terosh suppressed a cough as his father pounded his back.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Teorn yanked Terosh around and rested both hands on his shoulders.

  “Prove thyself a man worthy of the Minstel name!”

  Nodding, Terosh winced and willed himself to hold his father’s gaze. When his gaze slid over to his older brother, he saw Tate’s blue-gray eyes roll at the continued usage of formal speech.

  “I want to introduce you to someone.” Teorn draped an arm across Terosh’s shoulders again. Turning right, he bellowed, “Laocer!”

  A lean, young soldier emerged from the crowd, saluted by placing his right fist over his heart, and stood at attention. The soldier’s stance and small chin scar nicely complemented the determined glint in his dark brown eyes.

  “Lieutenant Ectosh Laocer will command the Royal Guards accompanying you on the Kireshana,” Teorn announced.

  It took every ounce of restraint Colander and Sedir had instilled in Terosh for him to merely tighten his jaw.

  I said no escort! I meant no escort!

  “Thank you, Father,” he said, fearing he might stamp his foot.

  Teorn tightened his grip on Terosh’s shoulders then released him.

  “I know you’re disappointed, but with that business about the Restlers and Tarpons forming an alliance, I’ll not have you traveling alone. Riden only knows what trouble they’ll dream up.”

  More trouble than usual?

  Terosh’s mind clicked through ways to ditch the blue-clad babysitters, but he figured he had no choice about initially taking them along. A wave of tiredness swept through him, but he pushed it back by focusing on the spice-laden scent of the festival. He nodded to Laocer and the other men separating from the crowd.

  The crowd chanted various names with frantic urgency. Here and there amidst the sea of green and blue robes, Terosh spotted young and old, fine-robed and thread-bare, locked in embraces like everyone feared it might be the last hug given or received.

  Guards had confined the crowd to an area behind a thick rope. A closer scan revealed hardly a dry eye among the civilians or derringers—another name for the candidates. A few Royal Guards and Melian Maidens wore proud expressions that told Terosh they had loved ones about to embark on the journey.

  Suddenly, deep silence fell over the crowd, and Terosh knew the time to begin approached. He shook hands with, hugged, and finally bowed to his brother and father before moving to his starting position.

  General Ezerd Mordian’s voice rang out clear and strong.

  “Gentlemen and ladies, this is your final task. You will complete the Kireshana and become Royal Guards and Melian Maidens with all the honor and duties thereof or you will fail. There is no in between. Fight hard and Riden will bless your journey.” The general drew his sidearm and fired across the starting line.

  Raising his voice with the six hundred and thirty-three other derringers, Terosh sprinted forward. As his legs settled into a rhythm, he pretended to be alone and pushed his body to run faster and faster, hoping speed would carry him away from his father’s smothering presence.

  JIRA (MARCH) 1, 1538

  Same Day

  Restler-Tarpon Alliance Safe House, City of Rammon

  From the shadows of the darkened apartment, Talyon Keldor tried to sort his mixed feelings as he watched the Kireshana start. The corner window he peered out of offered a fine view of the festivities. The Royal Guards were supposed to clear every apartment with a window facing the Balor Plains, but hefty bribes to the correct officials cleared the way for Taly’s unobstructed view. If he had wanted to make a month’s worth of kefs, he could have rented out the privilege of sharing the space.

  Officially, he had no assignment. If his orders had been to assassinate the king, he might have succeeded. However, Merisia had simply been curious about the Alliance’s interest in the Kireshana. She wished to know how Alliance affairs would pan out, but as the new Lady Restler, she could hardly investigate herself.

  At this point, Taly had seen far more than he wanted yet not enough to understand. The sense of missing pieces gnawed at him. Yesterday, he had found Miscel’s body next to another lifeless form in a storm drain below Rammon.

  The discoveries would have prompted him to return to Merisia in the city of Meritab, but she had insisted he wait. Taly agreed that leaving after the festivities would be less suspicious. The apartment held little more than a sleeping pallet, a washroom, and a hotplate. A nest of blankets in one corner still held a ragdoll abandoned when the soldiers had cleared the family out for the day. The sight magnified the emptiness.

  Shaking off the gloomy feeling, Taly considered the stranger in the drain. The fine garments told him the man was a palace district worker, but a quick search had revealed nothing else significant. Miscel had been the other victim. Taly winced, remembering the clammy bodies he had hauled to a garbage site to decompose peacefully. As he pondered the deaths, he thought he sensed eyes upon him and resisted the urge to shrink further into the shadows.

  Likely, Taly was the only one—besides the killer—who knew Miscel was dead, so the task of telling the man’s wife fell to him.

  Maybe I’ll just tell Merisia.

  A woman would probably do a better job of delivering such news anyway. Taly considered how little he knew. He didn’t even know Miscel’s last name. He only knew the few facts discrete questions had revealed. Miscel was an RT Alliance man and a friend of Merisia’s brother, Alden.

  After the Kireshana started, Taly checked on the two other RT Alliance people he knew, Lara Vireth and Kovit. Taly found Lara at her post preparing to follow the derringers. She barely glanced at him before leaving. Though he hardly knew the woman, she scared him.

  Taly went to Kovit’s post and found his third body in two days.

  Chapter 8:

  So Close, So Far

  JIRA (MARCH) 13, 1538

  Twelve days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey

  Kireshana Path, Calsol Forest

  Crouched behind the thick trunk of a cal tree, Lucas Telon held the kamad dagger with his right hand then flipped it to his left hand and back again. Despite the lengthy blade, the dagger had nice balance. If the weapon were slightly longer it might be considered a short sword. The black handle fit easily in one hand. The blade appeared to have clean curves up to the pointed tip, but Lucas had seen the damage the teeth could do. The microscopic, inverted teeth would slip smoothly into flesh but chew and claw their way back out. The kamad dagger was still new enough to make Lucas think about how to handle the weapon without losing a finger.

  He sighed at the tediousness of his next task. It was as boring as the variety of trees around him: cal trees and more cal trees. Occasionally, an exciting mutation would cause a cal tree to have an overabundance of pale green leaves instead of the usual deep green ones.

  Lucas’s orders from Lady Mavis Altran were to cause chaos along the Kireshana trail in case she decided Prince Terosh should be captured or eliminated. If there needed to be an incident involving the prince, the Lady preferr
ed it be one of many rather than the only thing to occupy potential investigators.

  King Teorn had forbidden the Coridian Assassins from participating this year, but since mavericks abounded in their ranks, Lucas figured posing as one would be safe enough. He refocused as a lone young man approached. After waiting for the man to pass, Lucas slipped up behind him and slit his throat before the victim even knew he was there. Lucas shook his head with disappointment and cleaned the dagger.

  What happened to standards against weaklings and fools?

  A half-hour later, Lucas found another ideal location to wait for a victim, but it took almost a full hour before two young women came his way. When he stepped out of his hiding place, they froze. He flashed a quick, tentative smile to put them at ease, but it only worked on one young lady.

  The other woman locked eyes with him and read the deadly intent there. She pulled her kerlak pistol and shot at him. The beam went wide by a half-meter, but as a sign of respect, Lucas killed her before practicing with his new kamad dagger.

  Her friend experienced the full attention of the dagger’s many sharp teeth. Screams filled Lucas’s ears as the woman died.

  As he admired his work, he marveled at how easily a smile could disarm people. His charms held more sway over women than men, but Lucas prided himself on being able to get what he needed from people. The soft crunch of swiftly approaching footsteps crashed through his warm sense of self-satisfaction. Rushing to his pack, Lucas shoved the kamad dagger out of sight before drawing his banistick and kerlak pistol to meet the approaching threat. As an afterthought, he fired several times into each body.

  It’s a shame to destroy such fine work.

  He waited tensely to discover the footsteps’ owner.

  Reia appeared at the clearing’s edge, bracing against a tree trunk to keep from entering the open space. Her right hand clutched her banistick and her expression mixed curiosity, caution, and dread.