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

by J. M. Ivie

  “You studied the history of Arclend?” Tesla looked to Barak—impressed.

  “Yes, as well as the history of all the islands. It is amazing what you learn when you are cooped up in a fortress for years.” Barak adjusted the pack on his shoulder, looking up at the castle.

  “You should really become a teacher, Barak!” I laughed, trudging forward.

  Barak seemed less than amused. But, he remained quiet.

  We all ran down the mountain, stopping at the gate. “Are you sure this is it?” Tesla asked.

  “Yes.” Barak’s single word reply was just like him. Direct.

  “Good. Let’s go then…” Crimsyn pulled a knife and wedged it between her teeth. “If we do a quick scout around the perimeter we can decide on the best route in and out of the place if things go south.”

  “I agree,” Barak grunted. “Niall, you and Tesla take the east. Apollo, Crimsyn, and I will take the west.”

  We all agreed and split up—weapons drawn. My heart raced as we entered Cakolo. The halls were still, cold, and silent. After a few minutes I wiped my brow. Something wasn’t right. “Is it just me, or did it get a lot warmer?”

  F O R T Y - S E V E N

  FIRE AND ICE LICKED MY SKIN; rain mingled with the roar of flames erupted from the palace. It was a blur. I remembered Crimsyn vanishing, as if a specter whisked her away and the wheeze of an explosion. We barely escaped, flinging ourselves out a window.

  “Crimsyn!” I yelled, standing up. My face felt as if it had been burnt, but, Barak’s calm demeanor left me to think I made it out relatively unscathed. No response.

  “Where did she go?” Barak winced. He had landed awkwardly on his arm.

  “Hey!” The voice of Crimsyn echoed from behind me. “So, who else is thinking the Anarchist commander was dirty?”

  Barak groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There was something here. If we had gotten here sooner…”

  “Or lucky,” Crimsyn said, her bright eyes glistening. “If we had been trapped inside when that place blew, we wouldn’t have had a chance.”

  I nodded, “She’s right you know.”

  Barak scowled, rolling his shoulder, “We had better leave here. There is a freight train headed off toward the east, we should be able to catch that.”

  I nodded my head, though, she spoke. “Shouldn’t we wait for Duncan?”

  Barak and I looked at each other, hesitant for a moment. “I suppose so,” Barak muttered, his face gloomy and uncertain. “I would like to go onward to the second location…”

  “Are you sure, Barak? Shouldn’t we all just head back?” I looked at him with uncertainty. Something in my conscience stirred.

  “It will be fine, I am sure. Go on, if you leave now you can make it to the freight to Pruina.” Barak grinned and gestured to the road ahead.

  “I think I’ll stick with Gloomy here. You go tell Duncan to meet us up at Valley Ridge… and bring the supplies. I’m starved!”

  I nodded, “If you can look for Zane? Or at least a trace…”

  Barak bit his cheek, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Do not get your hopes up.”

  ___

  I clambered onto the back of a freight car. The dark cabin smelt of rotten fruit and decay. I shook away the chill that clung to my body and settled into a seat. The jerk of the train jarred my body. The rusty wheels grated against the rails, turning and hissing along the tracks.

  The train sped up, and the wind whistled in through the cracks of the wood. I sighed and looked out a crack, hoping to glimpse the gray world outside the cabin. The train began climbing upward toward the mountain peak. I released a breath and sat back, waiting for when the stop would arrive.

  Several minutes passed; the train jerked again. This time it wasn’t a progression upward. I pulled myself upright to grab the door handle. It didn’t budge. Locked. I climbed atop a few crates to peer through the small window. The freight car, now somehow unlocked, began speeding downward.

  A faint scratching and a rustling from the other side of the cabin drew my attention. I looked and saw the glimmer of silver and a red eye. I made my way closer to this mysterious creature. A pigeon. They were not large creatures, barely the size of a pony, but they were strong. I grabbed hold of its reins and snapped it free from its captivity. “We will get out of here.”

  The constant movement of the train kept me from keeping my balance. I grabbed the door handle and clutched my knife—aiming to jab it between the cracks. The freight ran over a bump, jarring me from my place. The knife’s point thudded against the wood. My heart pounded faster. Blood pulsed into my ears. I tried again—steadying the knife. I took in a deep breath; anxiety built inside. With all my might, I rammed the dagger into the crack.

  I heard the pop of the metal hook, and my heart leapt for joy. The doors swung open and the rush of the fresh mountain air came pouring inside. “Pigeon!” I yelled for the beast, not realizing it wouldn’t understand me.

  The thing just turned it silky head, looking at me with uncertain caution. I huffed out a breath and ran over to it, grabbing its reins just as the freight ran over something in the track. The whole car jumped throwing me and the bird off balance. It flapped vigorously, and I held with all my might to the reins. It flew from within the car, and I could only hold on. We were flying and I couldn’t stop it.

  I looked behind me, seeing the door to the freight dripping below my vision. At that moment the pigeon was flying at a slow speed, a loud crash shook the earth below. It was the sound of the freight car splintering among the rocks and boulders off the side of the tracks. It must have derailed from the speed, sending the car flying into the small hollow. I looked down, seeing the wreckage and praising Sotiris. I won’t be seeing death today.

  As I was praising life, the pigeon wavered. I realized that the thing couldn’t keep its flight for too long. The weight of my body was dragging it down. We both descended as the bird lost its strength.

  F O R T Y - E I G H T

  I PLUMMETED DOWN, CATCHING myself in a tree before tumbling down the branches. My back burned and my arms ached. I groaned and stood. Biting back the pain I looked at the sky. With the waning daylight and the overhanging threat of another blizzard fresh on my mind, I didn’t hesitate to get going. At this rate, I could get back to camp in an hour or two. I held my hand up to the skies and traced the outline of the sun in the clouds. I had time.

  The journey was far from eventful, aside from a large tree that obstructed my path, nothing happened. I trudged my way through the snow to the city of Pruina, my lungs stinging from the frigid air around me. White puffs of air swirled from my nose and mouth as I breathed.

  Where did Zane go?

  It was the only thought nagging in my head. Over and over, trying to make sense of the situation. No matter how I held the problem, a new angle would appear—a new question. I hadn’t seen another person out there. We heard nothing. We had assumed he was behind us in the cave.

  Nothing.

  No answer.

  Finally, I reached Pruina. The massive city ran along the slope of the land, winding and rising with the fall and climb of the field. I hadn’t expected it to be this immense. This would make finding Duncan and Titus that much harder. With a painful breath in, I walked forward, intent of finding them before it grew dark.

  ___

  An hour passed, and I was far more cold and cranky than I was when I first arrived—and that’s saying something. The thought of walking the streets for the rest of the night was absolutely repulsing; however, the lack of funds made me press onward. I wouldn’t allow myself to steal from a passerby. Those days were long behind me—though, it was tempting. The thought of a warm bed, fire, a hot drink, and warm food; it seemed too good to pass up. But, I did. I passed it up eighteen times to be exact. So many high-collars wishing for a pick-pocket to bleed them dry.

  Unable to handle the bitter cold any longer, I ducked into a tavern nearby. The warm hearth crackled as the fire raged in t
he large brick fireplace surrounded by many drunken men who laughed and carried on.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a man asked, tapping my snow-covered shoulder.

  I shook my head and the frost fell from my hair like rain. “No. I stepped inside only to warm up. I won’t stay long…”

  The man casually nodded, making a face, perhaps peeved at me for not considering ordering a beverage or food. “Well, I’ll be over there—” he pointed to a closed off area, “if you need anything.”

  I nodded knowing full well I wouldn’t need his help.

  I settled down by the fireplace, warming my hands. The afternoon played repeatedly in my mind. The randomness of it all. The unexpected, spastic explosion… Zane vanishing. It seemed too much for my mind to wrap around. The way the events flowed seemed odd and unnatural… all jumbled up and coughed out like a bad cold.

  ___

  I shook the snow from my shoulders for the umpteenth time. I hadn’t even tried to keep track of all the houses I knocked on or the neighbors I had inquired about a ‘Titus or Duncan Cross.’ Perhaps they weren’t known by those names in this area. So, I asked if they had seen or know of any Dahkhallians in the area in addition to the names; still I came up empty.

  It wasn’t until I knocked on the door of an inn near the outskirts of the city did I even gain the slightest hope they were there.

  “Yeah, I know ‘im. Titus at least,” said the inn-keeper as he slid his large, meaty hands into his coat pocket. “You’ll find ‘im at ’eadmaster Thawe’s home down the road. Three houses after Thurston’s pub.” He gestured with his head to the left, and I thanked him.

  I scurried down the road as quickly as I could, spotting Thurston’s pub off to the side. That is when I slowed my rapid pace and took it easier, counting the houses. Three houses down. I found it. A humble log home with a billowing chimney and a large yard. It was covered over in thick snow, yet, I could still see the green of the evergreen leaves peeking out. I scrambled up the steps, shook the elements from my coat, and knocked on the door.

  After a few moments the door opened, and a humble-looking gentleman greeted me.

  “You must be master Thawe,” I said, bowing.

  “Oh please, call me Albus. Come inside!” he said. “You look like Apollo.”

  I raised my brow.

  “Duncan told me all about you.”

  I nodded. Black hair, with long streaks of silver, hung over a long, radiant face. Narrow blue eyes, slightly sunken in their sockets, watched me eagerly. He stood easily, confident even, beside me despite his light frame. This was master Albus Thawe. There was something about him, perhaps it was the feeling of familiarity… I followed him without hesitation.

  The home inside was modest. A fireplace billowed in the corner while music played in the study. “How are you doing that?” I asked, looking into the study and seeing no one there.

  “It’s a contraption I picked up on Fiermont last spring. Marvelous really! I buy the little spindles whenever I can. See—” He walked into the small room over to a large square box with a trumpet-like horn that spiraled out. He pulled open a drawer on the side of the device, producing a cylindrical object. It had ridges and grooves around it, and when he pulled on it, it unfurled and became longer than I expected. “They call it a keitograph,” he muttered, replacing the spindle. “I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. Good thing I’m not the inventor.”

  I laughed, agreeing. “I think it’s a good thing many of us are not inventors.”

  There was a moment of relaxed silence between us as I listened to the music play on the keitograph, trying to place the melody. The rhythm played over and over, and still I couldn’t place it.

  “Are you trying to find out what song is playing?” Albus asked, smiling. “It’s not a well-known piece. I believe it’s called the Hummingbird’s song.”

  I raised my brow. My heart suddenly jerking upward in my chest. I felt the compulsion to change the subject before the guilt overwhelmed me. “Is Duncan or Titus here?”

  Albus nodded, “Upstairs. It’s just Duncan. Titus had to go back to Bouldarcaven an hour ago. You just missed him.”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. I didn’t wish to rip Duncan away from his son, but I needed to get back on the road with him and the gang. “Thank you, Albus.”

  “Pleasure is all mine, Apollo!” He grinned, pointing to the stairs. “He’s up there with—”

  Before he could finish, the entire front of the house exploded. Fire poured in to the small study, throwing both me and Albus backward. Screams and shouts erupted from the street corner. I jumped, dodging an arrow that whirred in through the window.

  I grabbed my dagger, standing between Albus and the doorway. “Hurry, upstairs. Warn Duncan…” I gestured to the side, and Albus ascended the stairs quickly. A knot coiled in my stomach. Scout… my hatchling was on the second storey. I needed to keep whatever was coming down here, on the first level.

  The door dropped, and I stood ready.

  “Where is Qai-Lin?” the man asked. His entire garment was crimson, aside from his ivory gloves. His face remained hidden behind his red mask. In his baldric, weapons of varying sorts protruded. Everything, from the leather and blades, to the glass visor, was red.

  “Dead.”

  He flicked his wrists and a long pole appeared in his hand. “Then it will be a pleasure to watch you bleed.”

  “Making me bleed is one thing,” I said, “killing me is another.”

  His staff barreled toward me. I dodged, and he spun. The butt of the pole struck my side, pain radiating through my ribs. I blocked the next attack and ducked under the third. He struck with speed—precision. We were in a small area, yet, he wielded and maneuvered his large weapon with ease. Strike. Jab. Each as quick and as exact as the last. His pole snapped across my wrist, and my weapon fell to the ground.

  Leaping into the meager library, I ducked behind the sofa. I needed to think fast. The crimson warrior stalked into the room, now armed with my knife. My knife. My eyes darted everywhere, from the grandfather clock, to the bookshelf, to the delicate curtains around the window. I listened—only hearing the clock ticking, and my rabid heartbeat. My fingers throbbed without a weapon in them.

  I jumped, slamming my shoulder into the longcase clock. The timepiece fell, glass shattering. The crimson man leapt over the fallen clock. I yanked the bookshelf. The books showered all around the room, distracting the crimson man for a second. It was all I needed. The curtain pole clattered on the floor as I yanked the curtains down. Wrapping the cloth around the man’s neck, I pulled his weapon—the glittering, ruby dagger slung in his baldric.

  The man let out a guttural yell, his hands clawing at the curtain around his neck. Still, I held tight. The man stumbled back, crushing me between the wall and his body. My back throbbed, but I tightened my grip.

  “He will… get… you…” the man rasped, his knees buckling.

  “Who? Who will get me?” I asked, yet, my grip on the curtain didn’t waver.

  The man laughed, blood surfacing on his lips. “Your master.”

  He fell limp. Dead on the ground.

  PART EIGHT

  F O R T Y - N I N E

  FOUR MONTHS PASSED SINCE the crimson soldier attacked. I had been staying with Duncan’s wife and their three young children while he was off on missions.

  Tiana and Peter jumped atop of me, tackling me to the ground. “I gotcha!” Peter exclaimed as he pulled me into a headlock.

  “Call forth the cave troll!” Tiana yelled as she held one of my arms down. I tried my best not to laugh.

  “Aye, captain!” Peter saluted Tiana as he yelled. “Matthew! It’s tickle time!”

  The halting screech of a toddler clawed at my ears as he rounded the corner, barreling straight at me. Matthew’s thick legs jiggled as he lumbered my direction. He took a solid minute to exit the bedroom, run through the hall, and cross the living room to me—his victim. With a triumphant jump, he landed ato
p of me, screaming like a Dahkhallian banshee. He nearly knocked the wind out of me. I hadn’t prepared myself for the weight which had collided with my abdomen. His elbow landed in the pit of my stomach. Despite the sharp pain, I laughed hysterically with Tiana and Peter who both toppled over.

  Duranne rounded the corner, smiling as she caught sight of the children laughing. “All right ya little monsters, get cleaned up. Don’t you forget what day it is…” She wiped her hands on her apron, sullying the dark garment with flour.

  “Right!” Peter bounded across the room, followed closely by Tiana and the ever-screaming Matthew. “Happy birthday, Apollo!” Peter poked his head around the corner, smiling.

  I pulled myself to my feet, looking at Duranne who was laughing.

  “So, how old are you today?” Duranne tilted her head, moving a strand of her red hair out of her face.

  “Twenty-one.” I fixed my disheveled garments, rolling my sleeve back up.

  Duranne’s eyes softened as she looked at me. “Those have been twenty-one hard years, haven’t they?” She took a seat on the couch, soaking in the early morning light that streamed in through the window.

  I nodded, rolling my shoulders. Despite it all, the past months had been nice. I spent most of my time helping Duranne out around the cabin while Duncan and the others were rescuing captives. After the incident on Arclend they recommended I stay back at the Woodlands. Despite all my arguments, I lost the fight in the long run.

  To ease my jittery nerves, Elric explained that he would inquire after Zahra. Just two weeks ago he eased some of my anxiety. She was with Azu. Safe. Now it just came down to where they were. Apparently he moved her often…

  During these months I cared for Scout, who had grown much since I had found him. The time was approaching for his first flight—the day he’d begin his training to become a bird strong enough to ride.