Gauntlet

by Matthew C. Gill

  “Wishful thinking to be sure,” Dyzon declared with a giggle. With a wave of his hand he further added to his implied insults before stepping off the train to land skillfully into an empty seat beside Caess. The dutiful diminutive driver took only a glance to ensure everyone was once more back onboard before he directed the trusty transport to pull clear from the Titan Train. In a trailing cloud of dust the bold bandits disappeared once more into the distance. Taking with them what treasures they had thieved and leaving only terrorized travelers.

  Marshall turned his attention back to the second curious conveyance as it now circled in a slow circuit. If he had overheard everything correctly and these were rival renegade rogues then he figured they had a decision to make presently. Either they were going to try their luck at locating any left-over loot before the Titan Train reached town, or they could turn tail. Some might assume there was a chance that the thwarted thieves would chase after the bandits who seemingly bested them. But there was something in what he had heard that hinted to Marshall that it wasn’t altogether likely to expect.

  This Eris person had claimed for whatever reason that robbing the Titan Train was somehow assigned to them. And while no two criminals can be considered to act alike, Marshall knew enough to know that they also didn’t typically permit competition among themselves either. So either something strange was going on here between these two bickering bands of bandits or he just walked into a ridiculous rivalry. Possibly even both; he wasn’t going to rule anything out. He was about to be new in town after all.

  The Titan Train slowly returned to a more appropriate pace and as it did the reluctant would-be robbers retreated back the way they came. “We’ll be on back to town soon enough,” the old man said softly. The sudden sound tugged at Marshall’s attention like a leash until he spun around in his seat to face the elderly excavator. “How regular are little experiences like this,” Marshall asked, careful to keep the harsh edge dulled from his tone.

  “Those two have been at each other for months now,” he explained. “See, one will pull something or other off and then next the other has to. We got ourselves a visit from the Bull-Boys today, odds are now we’ll see something out of them Dizcords Daemons lot soon enough. That Eris isn’t exactly the most forgiving or friendly of sorts. Word is she may be on this side of civilized, or as close as an Uraor can be but she is still one of them savage sociopaths.

  Before long I’d wager they’d both be at each others throats like two packs of dusk hounds. You ever seen some dusk hounds tear into something? Well it isn’t exactly a pleasant sight, mind. But I gather someone not exactly familiar with the ways out here isn’t liable to understand the matter. Out here the New Republic don’t rightly reach far enough to have a say in much. As long as they keep getting fed the shipments they seek they aren’t about to nose in on any local disputes.”

  “Wait a tick,” Marshall interrupted quickly. “You said the local law, he don’t come out here into this area to enforce anything. So if he can’t be bothered to keep the peace for anyone on their way to or from town, then how much safety is there for anyone who lives there?”

  The old miner licked at his dry lips and then squinted to regard Marshall with a serious stare. His expression was as firm as granite and wisdom pooled itself in his marble eyes. “You’re starting to catch on pup. Out here on Newport nobody comes expecting an easy life or a safe one. You work for every scrap you can and make do with whatever this world will let you keep. It’s as simple as that. I’ve been robbed more times then I care to keep a count on and have had my share of hardships. But I still got my life and the drive to dig my way back in and cast my lot again. Who knows, I may strike it rich or I may find myself a final home in the dirt but as long as I have the ability to keep moving forward I am going to. Most folks who come to Newport all have that in common. Especially those who decide to make a try out of the town. That’s why they named it what they did; Redemption. You’ll either find it out here through your own sweat or you won’t. But ain’t nobody never found it for themselves by worrying over who was going to look after them.”

  While the toothless traveler’s words lingered with Marshall the Titan Train finally began to come to its rightful stop. A sharp signal marked the massive mechanical beast’s ended journey, at least until its next trip back. And as it did the passengers all began to shuffle their way to depart. But Marshall found himself oddly distant as he moved through his own motions. Automatically he reclaimed his stored baggage and ensured all his belongings still securely strapped together. His mind was still hung on the old man’s words and how they had reached into him.

  They had named this town Redemption, and people had been flocking to it for one reason or another to try and find it. He figured for most that meant finally finding a worthwhile life after making it to Newport. But so far all he had seen was people still looking for their dream. Maybe things would be different once he had a look around town. “Yeah, how much does one old miner know anyways,” Marshall decided before stepping out the door.

  Episode 4 – This Is Your Stop, Now State Your Business Stranger

  The frontier town of Redemption greeted Marshall as he left the Titan Train and it’s crackling Thunder Rail. Carved from the rising ridges that rose to become the reaching mountains Redemption sat at the feet of the rocky range. Surrounding it was a sweeping sea of salt flats that shimmered in the sun. The arcing expanse of stretched steel snaked its way back behind him as it ran up alongside to skirt the edge of town before doubling back on itself. This was the end of the line; people either settled in Redemption or took their chances going any further on their own.

  Most of the other passengers had already disembarked save for Marshall and a handful of others. One of whom caught at his attention with a shout as she struggled with a crewman over a small bag. “But I paid for my ticket,” the weary widow objected weakly. “Not my problem,” the man mentioned as he ripped the property free from her grip. Already Marshall could see the woman was falling to tears and he decided he had seen enough sorrow visited upon others for one day.

  “Release that lady’s luggage at once,” Marshall demanded as he snatched a firm hold of the man’s arm. “Mind telling me what is going on here or do I need to inform the Sheriff that we have a man mugging the elderly?” The crewman shot Marshall a furious glare and clutched a steady hold at the bag. “This is none of your concern stranger. Every passenger is responsible for his or her passage, and this lady only paid for part of hers up front. The remainder of her ticket was purchased en-route but that money was stolen. It’s simply rail policy that she forfeits her belongings to cover the remainder of what she owes. We are not responsible for lost or stolen valuables that occur in transit.”

  “But I already paid!” The widow wept as her strength began to fail her in the face of loosing what little seemed left to her. Reaching deep into a vest pocket Marshall fished out his last remaining Regal and tossed the coin at the waiting crewman. “That should more than cover her expenses now release her property before I decide to change my mind and remove it from your possession personally.”

  Catching the coin easily with his other hand the belligerent bag-man’s eyes widened at the sight. A whole Regal was more than enough to pay for the woman’s trip ten times over and he wasn’t about to offer to make change even though they both knew he couldn’t. “Sure thing mister,” he offered as he released the bag to fall to the dirt. Marshall immediately retrieved the luggage for the lady and carefully dusted it off before handing it back to her still shaking hand.

  “Th-Thank you,” she gratefully whispered with a sniffle. “Don’t mention it, ma’am,” Marshall added with a slight tip of his hat before turning to bid her farewell. Doing a good deed always left him feeling better inside and planted a grin on his face. Even if it had cost him his last coin, no lady deserved to be treated that way.

  “Greetings, traveler,” a smooth level voice called to Marshall the moment he had turned back around.
Leaning back on a slab of stone was a broad shouldered man with the weathered features of someone at home in the rough environment. A bright badge of silver gleamed on his breast and Marshall didn’t need to read it to guess that it said Sheriff in scrawling script.

  “Good day to you, Sheriff,” he politely returned the salutation with a slight nod and started to walk towards town. Before he could move a full two steps a quick gesture called for him to stop. “Not so fast friend,” the Sheriff interrupted. “I like to make it a point to officially meet every new face that finds its way to our little town. And seeing as how you are another one of those fresh faces I think we should have a little talk. Why don’t we start by you telling me who you are what business you have here in Redemption?”

  Already Marshall was finding this local lawman irritatingly annoying. What nerve did he have asking him who he was when he obviously didn’t care about his sworn duty enough to put a stop to these train robberies? And what about the attempted strong-armed mugging that nearly occurred to that poor woman only moments ago? No, he was well past the mood to play nice.

  “I’d like to report a crime or two Sheriff,” Marshall mentioned with a veiled hint of sarcasm. He tossed out the claim like a baited lure and waited to reel it in to see what manner of man he might catch behind the badge. A raised eyebrow and crooked grin looked back at him as if there was some humor in the sentiment of a reported crime.

  “Alright, stranger, let’s hear it; why don’t you open my eyes for me. Go ahead and reveal to me what breeches to the law I ought to be crusading after. Do be so kind as to let me know before we get started if I’ll need to write any of this down.” The Sheriff made it a point to cross his arms and focus himself fully on Marshall.

  “First of all, Sheriff, there was a robbery that took place on the train ride here,” Marshall recalled holding a finger up to mark the matter. “Secondly, there is no way you missed that unfortunate woman nearly taken advantage of. She was almost mugged, man!” As he spoke Marshall tried to keep his head lowered slightly to keep his growing frustration shrouded from view. Making a display as a disappointed drifter was one thing but outright disrespecting the local authority was bound to earn him an overnight stay in a prison cell. Already he had begun to fear his mouth might have outpaced his self-restraint.

  With a Yawn the Sheriff paused for a moment to patiently ensure all complaints had had their chance to be brought before him. “You heard the man mister, that woman was responsible for her debt same as you. If it is the policy of the Thunder Rail to not cover anything lost then that is the way it is. That is as simple as a customer-relations problem as I see it. And as for anything that occurs outside of the town well it isn’t under my mandated authority. Now unless you have further issues to bring before me, my name is Pierce Arbiter and you can find my office in town. It’s the one with the words ‘Sheriff’ hanging above it.”

  “Thank you kindly for your time then Sheriff Arbiter,” Marshall remarked as he once more moved to make his way towards town. “Hey,” Arbiter called from behind him. “You never answered my questions. Who are you and what are doing here in my town?” This time though Marshall didn’t stop to turn back around before he answered.

  “I’m just passing through, Sheriff,” Marshall replied. “And your name,” the Sheriff demanded again. “Oh, nobody of any account,” was the only explanation Marshall offered before another booming bellow erupted from the Titan Train. Arbiter watched as this newcomer continued on towards town and scratched at the stubble sprouting on his chin. “Well, we’ll soon see about that then won’t we,” he remarked to himself. “Welcome to Redemption friend.”

  Episode 5 – Redemption, a Fitting Name

  Marshall roamed about the dirt pounded paths that served as the streets of Redemption as he considered what to do next. His original plan upon arrival was to secure himself a place to stay and set himself up while he settled into the new town. But now that wasn’t exactly a viable option. As he looked around him he noted only a handful of other people shuffling about town. A few merchants and shop-tenders peered out from their windows to watch him walking down the street. And a handful of townsfolk mulled about in hushed whispers scattered about.

  Marshall had the distinct impression that the town of Redemption had perhaps grown too used to being robbed, mugged and terrorized on a regular basis. Nobody deserved to live in constant fear. And if the Sheriff wasn’t about to do something about it then he would. It’s part of the reason he had come all the way out here, a big part of why he was even on this little rock.

  Redemption; it truly was a bit of irony that the town had been named so. He had made the choice to redeem himself and gone looking for the perfect place. A place where a hero was needed, somewhere he could make a difference. Here in Redemption all he saw was the need for someone to make a stand. This was as perfect a town to throw down a defiant challenge against those who would prey upon the weak or helpless as ever there could be. And the name alone was a fitting sign. He would make his start here and begin his career as a crime fighter. What better place to do that then a town ripe with criminals and in need of some hope?

  Thoughts of the faces he had already encountered on the Titan Train drifted back to his mind every time he closed his eyes, even for a moment. They held the sorrowful emptiness of cattle in a way, void of a life that didn’t know helplessness. How had the people here lived this way for any time at all? And then Marshall pictured the old widow who nearly lost her only piece of luggage as a crewman attempted to recoup the lost ticket revenue taken by the robbers. This truly was a depressing place.

  People still moved about up and down the street around him but no one approached or hailed him with greeting. Aside from the seemingly polite encounter with the Sheriff upon exiting the Titan Train he wondered if there was a single hospitable soul left here in Redemption. He couldn’t blame them though, if he was visited by violent villains on a regular basis he might be a bit over-cautious himself. Still, there had to be some kind hearted decent person somewhere in this town. Didn’t there?

  Lost in contemplating the matter Marshall found himself absent-mindedly still wandering about the streets of Redemption. His thoughts drifting back and forth from present events to some older encounters he tried to push back down and out of mind. Looking to distract himself from such matters he once more began to scan his surroundings for someone who might be able to provide his some manner of charitable advice or insight. His eyes immediately settled on a single young lady exiting an establishment.

  The placard above the door was a simple enough sign that he didn’t need to be spelled out to explain the type of business it dealt in. All anyone needed to see was the unmistakable image of a box and shovel to understand that this could only be the office of the local undertaker. What reasons this lady might have to visit such a merchant of morbid matters was beyond Marshall but something told him that perhaps he might have luck asking her for advice.

  There was a sort of mysterious quality to this maiden, moving in slow precise movements with a relaxed and refined care. She was dressed smartly in a neat charcoal pinstriped top and trousers that was accented by a crisp black vest. A coal color topper sat tipped slightly askew upon her head with a flawless braided bun of russet resting to the rear. Everything down to the pristine knee-length buckle-top boots spoke of an almost obsessive attention to detail. If anyone might be able to point him in the appropriate direction it had to be this meticulous maiden.

  “Lovely day, isn’t it Miss?” Marshall called to her before removing his hat to approach her with his head bowed slightly. “My name is Marshall Lawson and I find myself at the mercy of being new to Redemption. If you could be so kind as to remedy my ignorance and point in the direction of a charitable place where I might find shelter I would be ever so grateful.”

  A pair of amethyst eyes answered Marshall by analyzing him with a scrutinizing stare in response to the request. The ladies lips pursed before pulling to the left in a curious e
xpression that he couldn’t tell was meant to mean disdain at being interrupted or simply caught off guard. Considering where she had just left he hoped he hadn’t caught her at an unpleasant time.

  “Apologies stranger, but were you addressing me by chance,” she asked awkwardly. There was a pleasant undertone of cheer in her voice that made Marshall smile briefly before he realized he should answer. “Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed with a nod. Something about his answer seemed to prompt a half-puzzled grin to form upon her face only to be shaken off with a muffled giggle.

  “Well then,” she began and recomposed herself. “If that is the case then it would be quite unforgivably rude of me not to avail you of my familiarity with Redemption, or at the very least try to provide some manner of response. As the matter stands the best advice that I can offer is for you to make your way over to see Grandma Grael over at the General Good. You can find her down the street and around the bend. Just make sure to inform her that Miss Donovaen sends her regards. I am sure that will be more than sufficient to provide you enough to secure her attention and your foot safely in the door. But let me just say it’ll be up to you to convince her to let you stay for any length. Likely Grandma is about the best bet for a new name come to town seeking hospitality.”

  “You have my gratitude then,” Marshall offered before replacing his hat. “Best of luck to you Mr. Lawson, I must take my leave now. I have other matters to see to.” Respectfully Marshall made sure to wait for the lady to leave first before he himself went about finding this Grandma Grael. With any luck perhaps he would be fortunate enough to find himself a bed for a night or so while he got a better feel for the situation here in Redemption.