Chapter 2 - Assignment Yarokia

Going back four weeks earlier. The ranger has drifted to a frontier town, and is at a saloon. Here the mysterious messenger finds him and tells him about the mission that only he can carry out

Four weeks earlier

        The name of the saloon was Buck’s Chuck. That was good enough for Raiden. Before walking in he lowered his black veil, letting it hang around his chin and neck. There was no reason to go around freaking the local yokels by coming off as a straight up assassin. Low key was good, but sometimes trying for it too much made you stand out worse. Leaving the cold darkening street behind him, Raiden walked through the easy swinging double doors, entering a world of low burning lamplight, sooty warmth, and swirling tobacco smoke.

       “So what’ll it be stranger?” asked a scruffy old sand-bearded bartender who had his sleeves rolled up.  

       “Make it a glass of whisky” said Raiden without looking the barkeep’s way. He gauged the saloon’s atmosphere. Always had to be sure he wasn’t walking into a potential ambush.

        Buck’s Chuck’s was a grimed and dusty establishment. Tendrils of wafting cigar smoke twisted slowly towards the big oaken beams and timber ceiling, mixing with the strong odor of liquored up breath. There were over thirty customers at the moment - mostly workmen, of the lumberjack and clodhopper farmer sort, along with some cowpunchers - but there were also a few legitimate cutthroats and gunslingers in the mix. It wasn’t the guns at their belts, or the shotguns against their chairs that gave them away - most people carried an iron or two nowadays, and with good reason Raiden figured - the killers he could always pick out easy enough by their demeanor alone. There was a different aura to a murderer. Fortunately, it didn’t look anyone here was looking to ruffle any feathers.

        As if to make sure that the masculinity wasn’t overpowering, there were several prostitutes, dressed up in a provocatively sleazy manner, and overly done up in the makeup department as well. Cheap w****s Raiden reckoned. The hookers lounged about, flirting with the clientele, one with her arms over the back of a big black bearded brute who was playing cards with a group of loud cussing men at a table off to one side. Helping maintain a relaxed ambiance was a piano that was being played off in the corner by the hearthstone. Raiden recognized the tune as a moderato tempo number about love and loss on the frontier lands.

       Satisfied that the locale was alright, Raiden said, “Know what, on second thought, why don’t you just give me a whole bottle of the hard stuff”

       The bartender raised a leery eyebrow, but before he could name the price of Buck’s famed Fire Ox whisky, Raiden placed some coinage on the bar counter - more than enough to buy a set of the bottles.

       “Change is yours partner”

        The bartender, clearly not accustomed to being tipped jack-s**t, looked at the ranger dubiously, as if it might be a joke, then realizing his fortune, hurriedly pocketed the currency. The old man’s smile gushed with gratitude, “Why thank you sir. That’s mighty big-handed of you”

        Raiden took the bottle of Fire Ox and a newly towel wiped glass and headed to the corner of the saloon that was the least crowded. He found one of the only tables that wasn’t occupied, a small round two seater with an astray in the middle. He set his rifle against the wall. Always made sure there was a wall behind him. Many m***********s had put a price on his head, and bounty hunters were the sorts that liked to clip you from behind. Then he served himself a glass and leaned back, resting his boots on the other chair, and dipping his wide brimmed hat forward.

        Finally, I can relax. There couldn’t be anything better in the world at this moment than doing nothing. It was times like these, among many others, that he wondered if he’d made a mistake throwing his lot into the line of work he was in. There was nothing easy about it. But who was he fooling. He’d never had a real choice. Some things chose you, kind of like getting lassoed. Of course, if he could’ve, he mused he’d of preferred a more simple life, the rather semi-oblivious kind it seemed most people occupied themselves with. The endless missions, often on the frontlines, had taken their toll. If he could he’d take a year long leave from rangering, or heck, retire from the grind altogether.

        After finishing his last mission up in the Penascos, he’d made his way southwards. Off the Gusty Grass he followed a creek to the Grey Rock mountains, and had hiked them for nearly a week before coming to the Conifer river, by which the weathered and hardy town of Builterdown Brooks held its own.

        After tromping across country all that ways he was awful scruffy, but that didn’t matter none at Buck’s Chuck. With nothing more than flickering lamplight, one could afford to be grungy and not have it matter one way or another. Ah, good old Builterdown Brooks, this was the place.

        Raiden set to rolling himself a sepia-sage smoke. From the corner of his eye he noticed some of the other customers in the tavern shooting him a glance or two and exchanging a few whispers, nothing overtly hostile, common curiosity more than anything else. The quavering oil fire made everyone’s mug look more mysterious in a haggard carved sort of way, especially Raiden off in the darkest corner. They could tell he wasn’t from around there. All sorts of ramblers passed through Builterdown Brooks on their way somewhere else. A few of the tougher ones tested him by mad-dogging him, but when he met their gaze they quickly yielded. There was something in his eyes that no one wanted any of. The thugs at Bucks’s Chuck realized the man meant to keep to himself, and since he also looked like the type you didn’t want to go stirring any trouble with, they largely ignored the stranger’s shadowy presence.

        Absentmindedly Raiden gazed out the saloon’s dingy window onto the town‘s dirt road thoroughfare. It was just after twilight, when the sky turns a deep luscious purple. There were still folks walking about, heading home, travelers to their lodgings, others for some eats around the way at the barbecue smokehouse. A rickety carriage full of goats trundled down the road. How far away the chaos could seem at times. Builterdown Brooks was another niche of shabby civilization, sawed and nailed together at the fringe of an ungovernable no man’s land that silently threatened it all.

       By and by one of the hookers came around his table. She seemed to be as impressed with the rough lonesome look as much as she was with the prospect of the money in his possession.

       “Evening miss” he tipped his hat, “Thanks for the offer. You’re truly a beautiful, well furnished woman. One thing at a time though. At the moment I got this whisky and herb to contend with. But as the moon goes higher I just might take you up on that offer“

        Once he was alone again, Raiden struck a match on his boot heel and lit his smoke. Shortly after, the barkeep came by his table, sweeping some broken glass from a previous patron, “Say, you one of them ranger’s aint you?”

       Raiden inhaled the crispy fumes. Without exhaling, he spoke throatily through the smoke, “Who wants to know?”

       “Just an old geezer” the bartender waited, and seeing that Raiden hadn’t told him to piss off, spoke with a certain confidentiality, “It’s just that you look like you’ve traveled far and wide, and I was wonderin, if by any chance you’ve passed through Karnsaw territory? See, that’s where two of my sons done joined up with the Forpidon cavalry, the third regiment to be exact. Letters rarely make it to and from, and I haven’t gotten any word in over two years. So, I was hopin you might have tidings, any tidings”

       Raiden nodded, the smoke seeping up. He‘d been getting more questions like this lately, “Tell you the truth old timer, things aren’t going so good up in Karnsaw, but there not so good most places. You don’t have to worry though. The last I heard, Forpidon’s divisions hadn’t been called up. There still at the fort. The war is mostly still out east”

       The bartender’s eyes lit up with relief, tears not too far away, “That’s better than I’d hoped for! Thank the lord!”

       “Well then, here’s to it” said Raiden, filling the glass and passing it to the bartender so they could knock one back for the third.

       Raiden didn’t have the heart to tell him that nearly a quarter of those boys had been butchered by the Crazy Crow Warkhan tribe, and that if his sons had gotten out of that, it’d be a miracle if they survived by the time the war between the East-State and the West-State, the two greatest nations on the map, really got up and cranking. Things were just getting started as more and more of the smaller city-states picked sides with either the brown or the black coats. The conflict that was waking up across the lands was going to be one ugly son of a b***h.

       Content, the bartender went back to serving booze, and Raiden returned to the process of getting thoroughly drunk. He leaned back against the wall, tipped his hat down further this time so no one would talk to him anymore, and listened dreamily to the piano keys being tapped and pushed. He didn’t want to think about anything, not even dream tonight.

      About an hour later, Raiden couldn’t say for sure, especially now that he was a third a bottle of Fire Ox inebriated, he saw someone enter the tavern. The newcomer was more of a stranger here than he was. The figure under the long ascetic, fawn colored cloak and hood was slender and not tall. Raiden sipped his glass. The outlander turned, looking around the saloon, but the hood was pulled so low that the face was hidden. Then the stranger walked towards him. Raiden didn’t sense any danger, even so, under the table he had a hand on one of the Roan 45s, cocking the hammer back.

       Standing in front of the small table he could appreciate how travel worn and patched the cloak was. The voice of a woman with a Dakhela tribal accent spoke softly, “You’re a hard person to find Dream-Walker”

       She pulled the hood back, letting it fall to her shoulders. Revealed was the face of a beautiful young woman. Her skin was an ochre brown, and her long hair, raven dark, and silken, was adorned with a spotted hawk’s feather.

       “Aiyanna” Raiden mumbled his surprise, releasing the Roan‘s hammer and holstering the revolver, “I didn’t know I was being looked for” then he raised his hands halfway, “But look, I can’t be all that hard to find”

       “Sparrows and Bluejay told me they saw you traveling south. Once I got to this town, I knew where to look” the way she said the last part gave Raiden the impression that she meant a crappy bar. Then she asked, “What brings you all the way to the Grey Rocks?”

       “I came because there’s not much here. That’s the way I like it when I’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go”

       Standing where she was Aiyanna was being sent a few rather suspicious and depreciative ogles. Not all folk in Builtedown had seen a tribesperson, and a lot of folk, especially those that hadn’t, harbored unfavorable notions of them. She took notice, and it was plain she wasn’t too happy herself to have had to come to this den of degenerates. Raiden motioned for her to sit down with him, and this she did rather reluctantly.

        Beneath her cloak she wore doeskin shirt, leggings, and moccasins, and around her neck was a loose necklace of beads and precious protective stones. He couldn’t see it, but he knew that there was at least one big buck knife tucked away at her side. She smelled of a nice fragrant mixture of resinous salvias, lavenders, and pungent crushed leaves from the forest. Even though her unexpected arrival had ended his alone time, it was good to have some company at the tavern. He offered her a drink, which she respectfully declined.

       “So, are you going to tell me what in creation brought you all this way. Far from the Whitewood Hills aren’t you?”

       She didn’t look like she wanted to talk there because of all the people, but she leaned forward, speaking hushed, “Something happened. The Spirit Circle sent me to find you as soon as I could”

       “What an honor” Raiden said dryly, forcing his pleasant disposition to hold as he tapped the butt of his smoke into the ashtray. All she’d done was confirm the obvious. His initial surprise at seeing her was wearing off, and he was beginning to regret her showing up. When the Spirit Circle dispatched a messenger, they weren’t sending out invitations to a carousal. Someone had made a mess and they wanted a ranger to clean it up, or, something real bad was going down and they wanted a ranger to face off with it.

        There was no way around it. He sighed his surrender, “Ok, let me have it. What’s the good news?”

        She looked at him with a touch of empathy, “I’m sorry to trouble you with this so soon after your last mission. After I explain the situation, I think you’ll see why it’s come to this”

        “Oh man” muttered Raiden as he poured another whisky, this one to the brim, “This is gonna be good”

        Aiyanna took a deep breath as if one good one would do to tell the whole yarn, “Two months ago, the Dream-Catchers discovered a very powerful convergence of dark energy in the western reaches of the Broken Horn mountains. It’s been hard to identity its origin, because there’s an Angra field around its axis, like a black mist that acts as a psychic barrier that not even the most discerning Dream-Catchers can see through”

       Raiden sipped his whisky as if he had all the time in the world. Aiyanna’s beauty was distracting. He reckoned they liked to send her to soften the blow a bit, like adding sugar and juice to a bitter broth the rangers were forced to swallow.

       “Two months ago we sent Tall Bill to investigate” said Aiyanna, sighing, “And we haven’t heard anything from him since”

       Raiden waited a moment to hear more, then tilted his head incredulously, “What, are you saying you lost Bill?”

      “I’m afraid by now we would’ve received some sign. Hawk went with him. But three weeks ago Hawk returned. That is not something Hawk would do if Tall Bill were alive. The last time Hawk saw him was somewhere in the middle of the western region of the Broken Horns. Hawk had gone ahead to search the way, and when Hawk returned, Tall Bill was gone. At this point we must accept that Tall Bill isn’t coming back”

      A slow heavy shock sunk into Raiden, sobering him up quite a bit. Well I’ll be darned. He’d ridden with Tall Bill on numerous occasions. Bill was one heck of a ranger, as good as the best of them, in fact, in many respects he was the best. The darndest shot with a Rifstone .50 he’d ever seen.

      “F**k” said Raiden, almost spitting the word out. It’d been awhile since they’d lost a ranger, but overall it’d been happening more often than it used to. Not a good sign. With their numbers dwindling, they couldn’t afford to take many casualties. Before being another gun partner, Tall Bill was a friend. Now he was another face lost in the unknown night. Even after all these years, so many bodies laid out along the way, it was hard to believe that s**t like this happened.

      “It’s our fault. We underestimated the assignment” the Dakhela woman shook her head, touching her brow in weary shame.

      “So that’s what this is about, you all want me to pick up where Bill left off?”

      “That’s going to be up to you. You’ve had very little rest in recent months and we don’t want to overtax you beyond your limits. If we could have though, we would’ve come to you with this assignment to begin with. Your skills are more suited to it”

      Thanks a bunch. Raiden was quiet. He didn’t know what this assignment was about, but he knew that Tall Bill didn’t just fall into a ditch or get lost and starve in the backcountry. If this mission was unsavory enough to get a ranger killed, then it sure wasn’t an enterprise Raiden was keen to jump on board with.

       “You mind telling him why the hell Bill was sent into the outland anyhow? There’s lots of dark energy convergences. What was so special about this one that a good ranger had to sent into hostile territory? I mean, the Broken Horns are nothing but a desolation”

      “That’s true, but it wasn’t always that way. The coordinates of the nexus point to a huge canyon, known as the Valley of the Winds. On the floor of the depression there’s a mining town called Rokeden Grames, or at least there  used to be. What’s left, if anything, has been abandoned for years”

       Raiden repeated the name of the town to himself. He was drawing a blank. It’d been a long time since he’d traveled that sierra, but he didn’t recall mention of any mining town. Wasn’t strange though, in the outlands there were lots of boomtowns that bloomed for a few years before withering, like seasonal flowers. From what he recalled, there were a few gritty mountaineers and trappers that ventured the Broken Horns, but most of the folks, which weren’t many if you were to count them, lived on the periphery of the chain, a hodgepodge assortment of tough frontiers folk that tried to scrape a living off the land with heave and ho. The Broken Horns real full time inhabitants were nothing but scarce and wily creatures.

      “You may never have heard about the town because it’s so far from any of the big city-states that it hasn’t played a role in the matters we’ve been dealing with. But from what we know, being in the middle of mineral country, Rokeden was once a prosperous place. I don’t know what happened. Maybe the miners used up all the resources and moved on? More likely bands of demons, or a plague, is what ran them off. It could also be the extended drought throughout the Broken Horns that’s to blame. It’s said that most of the creeks, even the rivers have dried up”

       Raiden grimaced at the prospect of traipsing through another desert. How many dusty a*s trails had he seen now? Too many. And an empty town didn’t sound like much fun. This whole little meeting was putting him in dour mood. Just when he thought he was going to get some quality lazing time, another big garbage-pile on the horizon was rolling like tumbleweed towards him. If he was going to do this, there better be a damned better reason for getting sand blasted than what he’d heard so far.

       He eyed the Dakehla woman, “There’s something else down there besides what you’ve told me so far. Why don’t we cut to it and you tell me exactly what we’re dealing with here”

       Aiyanna responded with a certain caution, almost whispering, “The angra nexus isn’t like any other we’ve dealt with. The levels are extremely high, and it is a form of energy that we haven’t encountered before”

       Raiden frowned in consternation and intrigue, “Hmm”

       “We would never send anyone into such a volatile region without good reason. The Dream-Catchers studied the situation to the best of their ability, but,… the nexus was never our primary interest,” she paused, then spoke with quiet urgency, “From what has been gathered, there is reason to believe that someone is trapped in it. But we need someone to go down there and learn the truth”

       Raiden held his smoke against the ceramic ashtray, watching it burn.

      “We want you to go to the Broken Horns, to the Valley of the Winds, to the town of Rokeden Grames. If the target is within recovery, you’re to bring her back to the Spirit Circle base at Mount Snow Helm”

       Raiden took a big draught of Fire Ox that burned its way down his throat and into his gut. Then he filled the glass again.

        Aiyanna regarded this sequence with a disapproving eye, “Are you sure you’re getting all this I’m telling you?”

        “Every word lovely. It’s all easier said than done of course. You know, if this person is being held prisoner in the nexus, I’ll probably have to go inside it too. I’ve done it before, but it’s always risky” Raiden was tasting the whisky like a connoisseur as Aiyanna tried to ignore his drinking, “Did you say bring her back? Hmm, are you going to tell me who this is we’re after? You’ll understand my curiosity, seeing that if worse comes to worse, and we know it likes to do that, there’s always the chance I might not be coming back”

        Aiyanna nodded, “I was getting to that. It’s important I give you some background information, to help you find her, and to know how to talk to her if you do” then her gaze slowly dropped, as if she couldn’t think of how to put it into words, and her tone was somewhat dejected, “We think it’s someone we knew, a young woman from the northwest, Parifica Orest. Her name is Yarokia”

        Raiden repeated the name in his mind. It sounded awful familiar.

       “She’s from the northwest land of Parfica Orest, and she grew up in a town named Chelten, by the Purple mountains, on the frontier of the Soues prairie. Her life was peaceful. She was raised by both parents, had one brother and two sisters. The whole family worked together on their homestead and with the neighboring ranchers”

        Raiden puffed his smoke as he listened.

       “As an adolescent she became well renowned as a prodigy piano player. On a few occasions she traveled to the city-state of Lodestron to play for the royal court. Around that time members of the Spirit Circle discovered she had potential beyond just music”

        “Yarokia was sixteen when she became a Spirit Circle apprentice. Over two years were dedicated to instructing her. Though it was largely dormant, the medicine of healing in her was vast. She was going to decide whether to go to Lodestron to study at the music guild first, or to Snow Helm, but neither of these promising plans ever came to fruition”

          “As you know, the forces of the Witch commenced military incursions in the northwestern territories nine years ago, forcing the majority of Parifica’s population to abandon the region. Yarokia was eighteen years old. The train destroyed, the people fled across the plains to reach Lodestron, but most of them were finished off during the crossing. That’s where we thought Yarokia had been lost”

         “Rangers tried to track her down for months in the lawless outlands of the Midwest territories. They gleaned what information they could, mostly unrelated rumors. They thought they were closing in on her trail, but never found any definitive proof. The search was eventually called off. But since then, on more than one occasion we thought we had found a possible clue, a description that matched hers in an isolated settlement here and there. The last lead was that she’d gone south, towards the South-Midwest outland. Nothing was ever verified. We concluded that she’d probably perished in the bordering desolations”

         The ranger and the Dakhela tribeswoman were quiet, their minds drifting in the hypnotic dancing of the oil lamplight and the echoing notes of the piano that swam amid the raucous revelry.

         “It’s thanks to recent efforts, including yours, that the Dream-Catchers’ vision has been freer. If we will had to contend with the Green Shaman of the Uktelzub tower, the Dream-Catchers sight would still be deflected into meandering, and they might never have found this nexus”

        Raiden gazed at the distorted reflections on his glass, “You sure it’s her? Couldn’t it be a mistake?”

       “Through deep requiem the Dream-Catchers have attempted to contact the prisoner of the nexus. It seems she cannot hear them, but they have heard her, or better said, overheard her, though very faint, at times when she has prayed for someone to help her out of the darkness. We have to keep in mind that such a nexus can act as a powerful disruptive overlay, and so they can’t be a hundred percent certain whose voice it is, or if it even is a person and not a deception, but, they are very confident it is Yarokia”

        During the ensuing silence between them the rest of the saloon seemed faraway, even though there was sporadic bursts of lurching laughter and some singing, it was almost as if it were a world in which the ranger and the tribeswoman were just drifters in.

        “It seems our worse fear concerning Yarokia has come to pass. Retainers of the Night-Circle found her before we could. If they didn’t know before, by now they’ve learned of her inherent potential. That’s likely the only reason she wasn’t simply eaten and is instead still being held captive”

         Raiden solemnly envisioned Yarokia, or whoever it was down in that forsaken place, once as a child, happy, free, living a life that contrasted so nightmarishly to the one she’d been subjected to now. It amazed him that while he was kicking back at Buck’s Chuck the nature of evil things that were underway elsewhere.

        “So, if my math is right, she could’ve been stuck in that place for the past seven or so years?”

        “The last report of anyone having claimed to see her is just over that. Rokeden was thought to still be inhabited at that time. It could very well be that she went there then, and hasn’t left since. Let’s hope it hasn’t been that long though“

        Raiden’s frown was dark, and his voice grim, “Any idea who’s behind this?”

        “We suspect the involvement of two different demon orders. There was once word out that the Witch of Glukgatha was after Yarokia, and that she’d put a high price on her capture. But the Witch takes all her captives to her stronghold on the Smoking Cliffs. That’s over three hundred miles from the Broken Horns. And the Witch doesn’t have the patience or the skill to craft a nexus. That’s why we suspect a second order which is yet unknown”

          Raiden hoped it wasn’t the crone of Glukgatha. That sick b***h was among the most twisted and malignant of all Night-Circle bosses. But no matter what devil it was, it was going to be bad. Raden had had it with their kind. They’d fucked with too many people. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine the horrors Yarokia had been submitted to. The torment they could engender was unspeakable. Raiden’s voice was steadied with restraint, “When I get a chance, I’m going to make those b******s pay proper”

        Aiyanna’s smile was subdued. There’d always been thunder in this ranger. It could unbalance him at times, but such a force was also a worthy ally for an errand of this ominous nature.

        “Before you decide to jump back in the saddle, it’s my responsibility to fill you in on the other details, namely; the route you’ll take, and the hazards you may encounter along the way, and the ones you will. After you hear me out, then you decide if you’re up to this”

        Aiyanna spoke like a teacher coming to the lesson upon which all else hinged, “You’re to make your way west, past the Copper Rust Hills, and across the Burned Flats. The wastes are so decimated that little exists there anymore, therefore, your passage should be relatively straightforward. But make sure to direct your path towards the southern reaches of the Broken Horns”

       “Demons of manifold strains are liable to infest any wasteland. However, in recent years, a lot more wayfarers than usual have disappeared in around the Broken Horns, and the sparsely populated settlements along the Cimrel river have been getting raided with increasing regularity. This is the result of a large Warkhan tribe that has been using the passes and canyons. Their stronghold we believe lies somewhere near the middle, on the eastern side of the Inner Range of the Broken Horns”

        Raiden raised a wary eyebrow, “What tribe you reckon?”

       “Every indication points to the Red Skulls. Most victims aren’t left behind, but those that are, are always scalped, and the crimson death head is found carved or painted somewhere near the site of the massacres”

        An almost queasy nervousness, numbed slightly by the whisky, swirled and fluttered through Raiden’s gut and chest. Yup. That was Red Skull work alright. Top notch. It made sense. Chief Angry Bull’s tribe had been engaged in a blood soaked feud with a rival Warkhan tribe, the Crazy Crows. It sounded to Raiden like Angry Bull and his boys had gotten out while the going was still good and headed down to the Broken Horns in search of a new haunt where they could roam and rule unchallenged.

         “It’s extremely improbable that there’s any link between these Warkhan and the nexus. Such energy manipulation is far beyond them. But beware. We don’t know how many Warkhan there might be. And remember, they always have at least a few shamans with far-ranging vision and the power to witch their sentinels with spells of concealment”

         She looked at him, a bit scolding, as one does to someone who has repeated the same mistake too many times, “Raiden, you must do your best to avoid them. These demons are probably the ones that got Tall Bill, and they’ll be on the lookout for others to follow. Move with the utmost stealth, take every precaution to avert engaging them, or any secondary threat for that matter, for to do so could compromise the entire mission. If the Red Skulls discover your presence, they’ll stop at nothing to hunt you down”

        Raiden didn’t need any reminding. He got a handle on his nerves, and looked at her in a way that only lacked a sly wink, “I got troubles enough that come my way, I aint looking to have anymore plopped on top”

        “Good. Keep that habit going, because once you get past the western side of the Broken Horns, the eastern could pose difficulties as well. There are reports of another gang of demons that are hanging out there, big gun-toting riders that are waylaying and murdering at all the ways in and out of the eastern Broken Horns, and within nearly a hundred miles of the sierra’s reaches. For all we know they’re not demons, but just a band of human outlaws. In which case, nothing you can’t handle”

         Raiden pursed his lips as if fascinated by this last tip. He tried thinking who those riders might be. There was a nudging towards an answer, but he came up short. There were so many degenerates that had made their haunts in the wastelands it was hard to say.

         “Making that far is only the first step, and in all likelihood, the simplest. When you reach the Valley of the Winds and go down to Rokeden Grames you’ll have to be at your sharpest. With any dark energy axis you can never quite know what to expect, and that definitely applies to this one. This nexus could very well be a category nine or higher”

        Raiden took a drink, letting the liquor wash around in his mouth as he sized up the challenge. He’d broken past many Angra defenses, but never a level 9. That didn’t mean he couldn’t pull it off, but cripes! - that was about as bad as it came in terms of dark energy matrixes. He had a sinking feeling. The way everyone in Rokeden had supposedly hightailed it, and the mountains had dried up. Did it all coincide with this nexus? I mean, just what the hell was that badness doing down there anyways? Had the Valley of the Winds become a base of operation for an unknown demon order? He downed the Fire Ox. It didn’t sit right. There were too many mysteries for his taste, and he doubted he was going to like all the answers, much less walking hundreds of miles to find out what they were in person.

        Raiden set his glass down. The Dakhela woman seemed to be tracking his thoughts, and he wasn’t keen on hearing what she was going to say next. Heck, the longer she kept at it the worse it all sounded.

        She took Raiden’s skeptical gaze as a cue, and made no attempt to hide the severity of what followed, “There could be a very powerful demon connected to and sustaining the nexus. Whoever this is, it’s clearly a master at the weaving and binding of dark energy. Everything else about it is unknown. It is not unlikely that it is an Akuma”

         Raiden’s next sip went own the hatch with some difficulty, and he kept quiet to play off his unease. An Akuma? They were only a tier below a full-fledged demon boss. Some demon bosses had actually gone from Akuma to their current rank. Was this a joke? Whatever enthusiasm he’d been building was starting to drain.

        “Whether this demon is present or not, we should assume it doesn’t work alone. One way or another, the nexus will be guarded. Therefore, anticipate powerful guardians of the Night-Circle, as well as other factors no one has foreseen”

        “If you choose to follow through with this, it’s important I stress to you that you’ll be going alone. Rokeden is nearly a week’s ride from the closest outposts, and further than that from any real help if you were to need it. We’re trusting solely that you’ll be able to adapt and overcome on your own”

        Most of Raiden’s missions were solo runs, but usually weren’t anything as bad as what they were asking him to do this time.

         “I know it’s asking a lot. If we had time we’d would mobilize a team to go with you, but unstable situations across the map have spread us thin. I’d go with you myself, but at first light I’m riding northeast, to Centralia, to summon rangers to guard the roads and trains that the Witch has begun targeting. We mustn’t allow her to cut off Lodestron from the other city-states”

         “There’s no time to wait for anyone else” Aiyanna sighed, “We may not know much about this adversary, but we know that the main strength of dark energy axis’s are illusions of unconsciousness. That’s why we chose you. Your spirit vision is the most developed of all the rangers, you walk through light and shadows, between realms, places, where others dare not go, and that makes you the best equipped to see past our enemies’ smoke and mirrors”

         Raiden nearly scoffed at how mangled the compliment seemed at this point. Whether or not the mission played to his strengths, Raiden preferred an upfront fight. Things could get real weird when you were dealing with all that hocus pocus. You could never quite know what the heck to expect.

        “The truth is, I’ve always believed you have the potential to be the most effective ranger ever. There’s no one in your outfit that can see what you can. But let’s hope you aren’t tested, and that you’ll be in and out of the Broken Horns with minimal opposition”

          Raiden tried not to chuckle at the naivety. After all the missions he’d been on, he’d stopped getting his hopes up a long time ago that any of them would be easy. Members of the Spirit-Circle could speculate until their beards grew to the ground. At the end of the day he was the one who was going to have to go take on the grueling undertaking. Hope for the best, but plan for the worse, else it was liable to sneak up and slit your throat while you were looking towards too much bullshit optimism.

        “There’s one final thing” Aiyanna sounded like she was going to admit a painful secret she’d been withholding, “If Yarokia has been captive as long as we fear, we are lead to assume that the Akuma purpose is to enslave her, to break her will so that they can warp her energy for their own uses, or, to consume it entirely. At this point the dark energy could be so deeply meshed in her mind and body that she has been altered beyond repair. Therefore, what I’m saying is that Yarokia may have already passed into darkness, and so we can’t be certain she can still be saved at all”

         The piano’s tune sounded suddenly alone. Nothing had really changed, but Raiden could hear the melody more clearly - the individual notes, bleeding and echoing. He asked the question he dreaded, “What should I do if she’s become one of them?”

        Aiyanna took a swallow of unease, then looked into his eyes and held his gaze, “First, you must do everything possible to free her. Even if a wraith of her former self is all that remains, then break the spell that binds her spirit so she can move on to the Higher-Circles. But don’t endanger yourself needlessly. It’s possible Yarokia herself is the greatest danger of all now” then she grew stern, nearly devoid of emotion, “If she’s become a nightwalker, do not let compassion stay your hand, do not hesitate. Destroyer her. End her misery, and pray that in doing so her soul may yet find its way to Great Spirit”

        Raiden understood why Aiyanna had waited to discuss this part until the end. Before he accepted the mission, she wanted to be sure he was capable of killing the young northwestern woman from Chelten if he had to. He nodded his grim compliance.

        Seeing his gloom, Aiyanna reminded him, “We wouldn’t ask you to go if we didn’t think there was still a chance for Yarokia. We mustn’t give up on her, and we must continue to believe there’s a higher purpose that’s been ordained her. She deserves another opportunity to live. This is something you should understand”

        Raiden set his glass down and looked away, through the dusky window, but he was looking much further than that, he didn’t know where, somewhere deep in the past maybe.

       “So, now that you’ve heard it all, what do you say? Will you take this assignment on behalf of the Spirit Circle?”

        His silence surprised him. Doubt and fear, good old buddies that liked to gang up on you at the same time. There was a foreboding he couldn’t place, like a storm brewing over a land, threatening him with its lightening, keeping him caught in a doorway of indecision.

        “I understand your hesitancy” said Aiyanna, “Remember, this mission wasn’t originally mandated to you. We can’t ask you to do everything, and you must be at full strength. Therefore, if you refuse, you may see out your leave, and we’ll try to find someone else”

        Raiden squinted into the lambent flames. Outside he was taciturn, but within a slow angst and anger reeled. All these years? Prisoner to those psychos! He hoped she’d resisted, fought back, but it was a long time to not be broken. Probably it’d of been better had she died in outlands, because he doubted he could help her out much at this point. Wasn’t it better to be honest that he was going to be over his head on this one? But who else could take up the charge? If he left it in someone else’s hands they could botch it up worse. That’d really make it so Tall Bill had bitten the dust for nothing.

        There was a feeling that pushed against the current of his despondence, that old in the nudge in the gut. What it seemed to be telling him sounded crazy - that this was simply something he had to do, that it could be more important than all the other missions he had under his belt, and that deep down, there was nothing more important to him than helping this lost woman. This was a messed up world - it scraped and bruised you where it never really stopped hurting, chained you up, and could shatter hope like a fine crystal glass dashed on cliff rocks. But what had happened to Yarokia had crossed the line. No one deserved to be cast asunder. She could no longer pull herself up on her own. She needed someone to pick up the shards and show her it wasn’t all beyond fixing, that a new and good thing could be forged with the remnants. Why him and not her? What had he done to deserve to be standing here today? If no one had reached out a hand, he’d still be lost, might have never have gotten back up.

        “F**k it” said Raiden, “I’ll do it” - And I’m on the warpath against any hellion that stand in my way.

         Aiyanna searched for any irresolution and found none. She smiled. Once the ranger had set his path, he followed it to its conclusion.

        “Very well. The assignment is now under your charge“

        Raiden sat back in the chair. Well that was simple. He sighed, his posture relaxing now that he’d made up his mind. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to think about the job tonight. He wanted just this evening to not think, not worry, “Well, now that all that’s settled” he motioned the bartender to bring another glass, “How about a drink sister?”

        “No thank you“, her expression was remonstrative as unfazed, he poured his own glass, “Are you planning on finishing that whole bottle?”

        “I like to see things out. Shouldn’t turn back with only two fifths left”

        “Shape up soon. You’ll need to be at the top of your game if you’re going to do this” then she asked, “When do you plan to set out?”

        “First light. No time to waste I figure”

         “Good“ said Aiyanna, and she accompanied him a few more minutes at Buck’s Chuck just to be polite, listening to the piano. When she stood she said, “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but tomorrow I must make my way northeast to Centralia”

         “Yeah. You can bunk at the inn tonight. There are plenty of rooms”

          Aiyanna smiled, “The Dakhela prefer to sleep under the stars”

         Raiden preferred to catch his winks that way too, but for a change he thought he’d try a night with the guard of four walls and a roof.

        “So long then ranger. And good luck. May the Powers protect you”
       “Same for you” said Raiden, raising his glass perfunctorily.

       Aiyanna made the tribal gesture for goodbye, then threw the hood back over her head and left the saloon. Raiden leaned back, tipped his hat over his eyes, and took a big drag of sepia-leaf as he listened to the piano play “On My Way Darling“, a number about crossing the great wilderness.

*           *           *

          Before dawn the next day Raiden left Builterdown Brooks with nothing but his Strider-hawking rifle, two Roan pistols, and a rucksack over his shoulder. He always left town when everyone was still asleep, so no one would know which direction he’d gone. Through the morning he traversed the Grey Rock mountains forested foothills, and in the afternoon was moving out past the very last of the lonely ranches and into the frontier land where it was a bit rockier, drier, and there weren’t quite as many evergreens. It was getting towards the end of the day when he realized he was being followed by someone a few hills behind him.

          The rider caught up to him just as the sun was going down. It was Aiyanna. Raiden was genuinely surprised to see her. The Dakhela woman had come riding a spotted mustang painted with painted with blue woad symbols of power. Her cloak and hood were flapping in the wind, and her feathered earrings danced in the wind. Across her back she wore a quiver of arrows and on the side of the horse was tied an osage flat-bow. Raiden reckoned had she come upon an unwary traveler this way, they might’ve filled their drawers on all of a sudden.

        “Decided to come along?” Raiden grinned.

        “Where’s that big black horse of yours?” she asked a bit shocked, “You’re not thinking of footing it three hundred miles are you?”

        “Done it before. But no, not this time. Night-Wind’s out roaming with his kind” and he assured her, “I’ve but to call to him, and he’ll find me as sure as the sun goes down”

        Aiyanna looked around as if danger could be anywhere on the horizon, then she dismounted in one motion, “I’ve come to wish you good luck ranger,”

        Raiden knew it was because she was afraid he really wasn’t going to be coming back.

       Aiyanna reached into her saddlebag, “And to give you this”

        She handed him a pouch. In it was a beautiful translucent glass crystal ball that fit into the palm of his hand

       “The light of Atahira-Pahana” said Aiyanna.

       Raiden recognized the orb. It was one of her prized possessions. It surprised him that she’d hand it over to him.

       “The spirit of Dawn goes with it. It’s light will not be put out in any gloom”

       “Thank you” said Raiden, doing a little bow.

       Aiyanna stood, as if she had something more to say. The wind blew strands of her hair across her face. She was worried for the ranger.

       “If it were not for my errand that takes me north, I would go with you, believe me”

       “I do”

      Then she paused again, as if momentarily lost, “Be careful Raiden. And, remember that you are greater than your past. You walk through sunshine and the shadows, not because of the darkness you fear that is in you, but because of what is deeper than that. And that power will never abandon you,” then she added, “Some day you will realize that your true freedom does not lie in the absolution of all the wrongs you believe you bare, but in finding what you have always had”

        Raiden listened, the wind whistling. He hoped it was true.

        Her smile of encouragement was strained, “I have great faith in you Raiden. You may not believe it, but you are a beacon of hope, and inspiration, to many, including myself”

        Aiyanna stood there a little longer, as if there was something else she needed to say, and she couldn’t look into his eyes while she thought about it. She couldn’t bring herself to say it in the end, and so she mounted up, “Bring the daughter of the northwest back to the day”

       “You got it. I won’t return until I have, or been laid low trying”

       “I’ll send help if I can, but the Great Spirit goes with you. We will meet again Raiden, when it is over”

       “After taking care of this I aim to head northeast to Centralia to see what I can do about helping take out that damned Witch”

       Aiyanna smiled, “I hope to see you soon Dream-Walker. Good luck again”

       Then she wheeled her horse and road away. Raiden watched her go, down the hill, and out on across the big empty region that extended north and east. Then he continued on his way. It was twilight and the first stars were already twinkling in east. Miles away already, Aiyanna turned to watch the ranger going on alone towards the desolations. She tried not to cry.

*            *            *

        The starry night stretched over the desert silence, like two oceans sleeping, one above the other. Raiden and Aiyanna had parted ways hours ago and it was past midnight. Standing on the edge of the Rusted Hills territory, now and then he felt a rushing of wind. It was a stony and broken country, but it was getting flatter the further he progressed. He climbed up one of the few knolls, a boulder strewn prominence that overlooked the cold tundra. The land was illumed by silver-blue starlight. He closed his eyes and focused.

       Half an hour later, from afar there came a strident whinny that pierced the frosty stillness. Raiden inclined his hearing. From the north came a jet shadow, galloping smoothly across the empty wilderness.

       Night-Wind had been Raiden’s horse for over a decade now. He’d first come across the mustang during a night up in the Penascos mountains. Raiden had probably been on his way to dying, having received a shot to the gut during a shootout on one of the remote highways. He‘d been trying to get to the nearest town, but his prospects didn’t look good. He’d lain down, pretty much giving up at that point, but still praying. That was when he’d felt the sudden surging of wind, and turned to see a black mustang, the stars behind it. The horse had been completely untamed, but for some reason it remained by Raiden, snorting and huffing, and doing a bit of impatient prancing. When he worked up the strength and courage to approach it, the mustang knelt so Raiden could mount up, and with no saddle, it had borne him all the way where he needed to go, and had been doing such for him ever since.

         There was an old legend about a herd of spirit mustangs, known as the Dream Horses. It was said they could only be seen far away from places where people lived, and only at night, when the moon was absent and the stars in full reflected on the horses. It was also said that if you got close enough to reach out and touch one, that they could bare you, running up into the sky, beyond this world, and across the White Bridge of stars that lead into the realm of bliss where the ancestors and the Great Spirit resided.

         Raiden wasn’t sure if it was a load of bull or not. He’d never seen one of those Dream Horses, but he kept the hope alive he might one of these nights. If they did exist, he believed Night-Wind was in some way descended from them, and that the day his beloved steed died, his spirit would go to join that magical herd.

         At the sight of Night-Wind galloping across the land, Raiden’s heart rose at this display of unfailing faithfulness. The powerful stallion would bare him through the world of the dead and the damned if need be.

         “Here old boy! Here I am!” said Raiden as he went down to meet it. The steed sped up towards him. When they met, Raiden caressed the horse’s mane and neck, and kissed it, and the horse puffed and danced about, “I’m glad you’re excited! I need you old boy! Wasn’t for you, I’d of given this up a long time ago! You’re the best a ranger could ever ask for”

       And so once again horse and rider were reunited to do the work of the enigmatic Spirit Circle. They set off west under the slow shifting stars, on towards the Burned Flats and the formidable Broken Horns beyond. From the start they were constantly on the move. A singular and uncanny urgency spurred them on during the day, but it was by night that they traveled swiftest, when it was cold and Raiden’s spectral senses were at their peak as well as the mustang‘s unrivaled power.

       As Night-Wind’s hooves thudded ever lightly, covering many yards with each stride, flying over the expanses of desolation, Raiden’s mind drifted to the future, towards the foreboding of those big storm clouds. He’d never accept that destiny was determined by chance and circumstance. If that were so, then it was all meaningless, knocked about by chaos alone. Raiden didn’t argue it wasn’t that way. He’d set out upon the hard road to one day becoming a spirit-sky master to prove it wasn’t.

       Under the swishing wind in his ears, the words of a familiar voice echoed softly down the halls of his mind, “When you begin a new path, remember that it cannot take you anywhere you will not know to go. Some trails lead east, other west, south, north, but no mater the terrain they cross, they all move along the same hoop, the one at the center of things. There might come a time on your journey when you think you’ve lost the way, a clouded night with no illumination to guide you. Be ready, search for the center of things, and you will know you cannot be lost”

         The stillness beneath things was the place from which White Elk had always spoken. Over the years there’d been times Raiden had glimpsed a shaft of the quiet light living there. Those moments had been fleeting, but enough to gain an inkling. If you could find the center of things, it was better than any fort, it was a place where the tempests could not reach, where instead of futility pushing, heaving, striking out at nothing and at everything, you could act upon a more powerful will. Raiden wanted to find Yarokia and bring her out of the howling blizzard and into this place, and show them both that they could see above the dark thunderheads of this world.

        I’m going to find that place, the heart of things. I won’t fail you master.

        A few days later on the morning horizon Raiden saw the first drab outline of the Broken Horns. Night-Wind sped up of his own volition. The ranger had set out many times to counter the ploys of devils. Every soul was of inestimable value. However, on this ride, he felt a mysterious confluence of unseen powers which he hadn’t had a presentment of before, like winds from different corners of the earth were converging towards the very place he too was riding towards.

Author's Note

This is probably the longest chapter of the book. I might actually make the last few pages another mini chapter. What I'd like to know is whether you think it's too much info, or if there is unnecessary aspects to it, or if you think it's about right, or, if you'd even want to know more (though I won't be adding any). Thanks for your time

Reviews

[Jennie Baron]

I don't have much to add to what the other reviewers have said, but their words are worth taking to heart. The "something real bad was going down" didn't specifically bother me because it seemed like Raiden's voice and that was the nature of his thoughts...I am gaining respect and sympathy for Raiden's character and getting to like him. Yes, "in the wind" is repetitive, and you do have "bare" a couple of times when it should be "bear." But overall this is a fantastic chapter!

[Kuandio]

Thank you again. These are some long chapters you read, so I'll have to be getting around to reading some of your stuff in the near future

[fwvalidus]

Another good chapter! The scene in the tavern was well done, good dialogue, good supporting scenery and sensory balance. A few other tid bits:

"something real bad was going down and they wanted a ranger to face off with it." --> I gotta believe you have a better way of saying this than "something real bad was going down"... your word choice is generally much higher quality. I challenge you to polish this up.

All these years? Prisoner to those psychos! He hoped she’d resisted, fought back, but it was a long time to not be broken. Probably it’d of been better had she died in outlands, because he doubted he could help her out much at this point. Wasn’t it better to be honest that he was going to be over his head on this one? But who else could take up the charge? If he left it in someone else’s hands they could botch it up worse. That’d really make it so Tall Bill had bitten the dust for nothing. --> another paragraph that seems choppy

"Her cloak and hood were flapping in the wind, and her feathered earrings danced in the wind." ---> try not to say "in the wind" twice in one sentence. Being picky here though.

[Kuandio]

Wow, double thanks for reading two chapters! What a surprise. I will keep your feedback here so that I can refer to it when I do the next revision. I feel like since last time I worked on this story I've learned a lot in terms of honing my writing craft, so I know these Dark Rider chapters will be greatly improved after the next time around.
I got to ask you though, what is it that inspired you to read this story? It's gone unnoticed for awhile? How'd you find it?

[fwvalidus]

To be honest... I don't exactly remember. BUT! I believe I came across a recent piece of writing of yours and then explored a little further. I'm a story guy first a foremost so I must have originally found a poem of yours and then I liked the sound of this story vs. the other ones... the rest is history!

[Sue Hart]

This chapter rocks. No joke. It had descriptions in the right places and was so good it was like watching a movie. The story was strong leading me to continue. I really liked this chapter. As to length, they (the agents, editors, etc. say it depends on the story. Short chapters create urgency. A fast pace. Longer ones sometimes add to flow and is needed to set the plot. So there are no set rules. A chapter's length can be anywhere from three to twenty pages. I was told that readers prefer around ten. Looks like that's up to you. For me, this was good. It led me to turning pages, per say.

[Kuandio]

Wonderful, I'm glad you liked this one better. I have seriously been considering switching this with the first chapter instead of jumping back in time to it as the second chapter and disrupting the chronology. Do you think that would be a good idea? The first chapter gets things moving though, and provides a better feel from the outset of what the conflict is about.

[Sue Hart]

Do not change anything. Work on polishing it. You can do it, look what you've already accomplished. The step back in time is clear. Good job. The beginning is strong. Just smooth out the kinks. We all do that. I can still sit down with books I wrote years ago and improve them because I've grown in my ability. It hones your skill to do that. It's also a joy.