Category: Novel

The relations betwixt the elven and dwarven races were ever fraught with contention. Both being long-lived species, they exhibited a gradual evolution in terms of technology and philosophy. The relatively peaceful co-existence they achieved in the two decades preceding the Daemon War stands as a notable accomplishment. One is left to ponder how their relations might have progressed absent the calamitous destruction suffered by the Jeweled Empire during the war. Had the war not so thoroughly discredited the elves’ perception of themselves as preeminent among the intelligent races, one must question whether there would have been a popular clamor to reassert their dominion by subjugating their dwarven neighbors and relegating them to the status of second-class citizens within the Jeweled Empire. Though attitudes towards the dwarves have indeed improved—especially after two among their number played pivotal roles in the restoration of the Crystal Blood—the dwarves remain wary when venturing beyond their ancestral territories. Thus, the historical narrative is shaped by these complex interplays of power, prejudice, and the inexorable march of time. – Foreword from “Modern Commentaries” by Scholar Gemina Res

KURT

Kurt Volker ignored the disgusted looks from the elves in the public house as he collected his food and drink from the counter. Dwarves were used to dealing with elven disdain. Not that all elves were bad people. Most of Kurt’s dearest friends were elves. If he thought all elves were incorrigible louts, Kurt wouldn’t have served the Imperial government for the past ten years. Still, by and large, dealing with elves outside his friends tried his patience. Worse, the elves in this public house were low-class. They reveled in their supposed superiority. Kurt sat back down and took a sip of the watered-down ale.

Ten years. Ten years since Kurt last set eyes on the boy. No, Rin wouldn’t be a boy anymore. Humans sprouted up fast like elves. Unlike elves though, humans kept right on aging like a spring plant. Dwarves were more like trees. They took a long time to age. Kurt looked much the same as he did ten years ago. His hair was still the same brown. The few gray whiskers in his neatly trimmed beard were there well before the boy disappeared. If anything, those whiskers were caused by Rin’s various misadventures. On the other hand, Kurt was maybe a bit stouter than when Rin last saw him. Too much time playing diplomat in Lisandra. Too much fine food and drink and not enough honest work. Kurt hoped the carefully tailored clothes and fine cloak hid some of his recently gained girth.

Kurt’s mind dwelled on when he found the small, dirty boy amid the terror gripping Lisandra almost thirty years ago. Rin was the only good thing to come out of the Night of Blood and Fire. Kurt was sent out by Lord Ranier to save as many dwarves living in Lisandra as he could. So many were murdered by the mobs before Kurt could reach them. All he saved were three silversmiths and their immediate families – and one human boy. Kurt left Lord Ranier’s service to raise the boy. It took a while for the people in his home village to become accustomed to Rin. Fortunately, Rin was Rin. The boy’s cheerful attitude converted all but one or two of the stalwart farmers. Rin wasn’t a perfect boy, but he was a hard worker and always willing to help. To anyone who knew him, Rin was always happy. Even when they were nearly killed so many times during their adventures to bring back the princess. Then he just disappeared. Just vanished without so much as a note. It wasn’t until almost two days later Kurt found out the boy left on a ship to the Republic. The pain and confusion of why Rin decided to leave wracked Kurt for months afterward.

Kurt cleared his head with a shake. Human boys needed to find their own way in the world. That’s what everyone said. Rin would find his way back home when it was time, just like he promised. Much to his shame, Kurt wasn’t sure Rin would return home. Not until Kurt felt Rin’s pulses reappear in the medallion. The promise guided the boy. How else to explain Rin’s sudden appearance in the medallion’s pulsing close to where Kurt’s duties brought him. Marteen could wait a bit longer. It was that own elf’s fault anyway he was where he was. Kurt followed the pulses to Black Cove.

Kurt was surprised Rin was coming to such a disreputable area instead of Lisandra. Maybe Rin was a smuggler. Kurt wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he didn’t know what happened to Rin in those human lands. Kurt didn’t even consider Rin became a pirate. The boy was too honorable. Contraband was one thing, but stealing and murdering from innocent traders? No, the boy couldn’t have changed that much.

The apple slice slipped from Kurt’s hand as the medallion pulsed like thunder. He took a few deep breaths. Rin was home. The boy would know Kurt was here and waiting for him. He absentmindedly brushed his cloak and beard. Anxiety pulsed through Kurt stronger than the medallion. He berated himself for acting like a foolish old man. Still, Rin was finally home. Soon, he would walk through that door. The two would embrace like a father and son should. They would have the night to reminisce about good times. It wasn’t like Marteen was going anywhere. It wasn’t Kurt’s fault the bloody, drunken fool of an elf managed to land himself in trouble. Again. Granted, Kurt would have to deal with that afterwards, but after Rin and he had a nice long chat. Even Marteen wouldn’t complain.

As the hours grew later, anxiety got the better of Kurt. He still felt Rin’s presence in Black Cove. Was he avoiding Kurt? No, that didn’t make sense. Why would Rin avoid his father? The boy was carousing with his crew. That made sense. If Rin was a smuggler, he would need to keep up appearances before sneaking away to join Kurt. Those books from the human lands made such things clear. Smuggler crews were close, like soldiers. Kurt understood that bond from his years serving in Lord Ranier’s guard. Kurt gulped the brandy to settle his nerves. God of Iron, he was a hardened veteran of too many battles to be this nervous. Finally, Kurt felt Rin coming closer. A wave of relief washed over him. Kurt sat up straighter as he felt Rin standing just outside the pub.

The human who walked through the door looked very little like the boy Kurt remembered. All the soft, boyish features were now hard and angular. Rin’s face was leaner and covered with dark stubble. The long hair was gone, replaced with a short, soldier’s cut. The green eyes that always sparkled like emeralds were now cold. There was a new long scar on Rin’s right cheek. The boy grew to a bit over six feet tall. Still shorter than the elves around him, but a good eight inches on Kurt. A long brown coat hung past Rin’s knees and covered the odd blue tunic and gray slacks. Where had he seen those clothes before? Kurt lips tightened as Rin pulled back the coat to reveal the gun on his hip. Kurt shuddered involuntarily at the sight of such a human weapon.

Kurt waved to his son, but if Rin saw, he ignored it. Kurt sat back down bewildered and hurt as Rin strode up to the bar. The barkeep was aghast that a human stood in his public house. The murmuring from the patrons wasn’t friendly either. Black Cove was strictly segregated. There were only a few areas where humans and elves mingled, and this public house wasn’t one.

As Rin stepped up to the bar, the barkeep shouted something in Mariean and gestured to the door. Kurt understood the language, but he was sitting too far away to make out what the barkeep said. Mareian words tended to sound alike unless Kurt paid close attention. Rin’s expression didn’t change.

“I think you have served a human,” Rin replied in Imperial. His voice was a much deeper baritone than Kurt remembered. Kurt grimaced as he heard the boy throw in a hint of a noble’s accent. Rin knew how offensive that was to elves. The boy always pushed just a bit too far. Why couldn’t he have grown out of that habit? The room went dangerously quiet.

“Screw off, round-ear,” the barkeep said, switching to a much coarser Imperial, “I don’t care if you can speak the proper language. I don’t want your coin. You’re bothering my customers with your stink.” Some of the elves muttered in agreement. One let out a muffled chuckle.

“I wouldn’t eat or drink anything in this Protector-forsaken place unless I felt like spending the next three days in bed,” Rin said, matter-of-factly, “Unfortunately for me, the human I’m hunting came here. Now, since I’m supposed to be polite, I’ll do you the favor of offering some coin for the information.” Rin slapped down three, heavy gold coins on the bar.

“Do us both a favor. Accept the coin and answer my questions.” The barkeep’s eyes went wide with fear at Rin’s words. Kurt was confused. What did Rin mean about hunting? Hunting what?

“I don’t serve humans,” the barkeep said, just a bit too quickly. The barkeep looked over Rin’s shoulder at two men sitting near the bar. They stood up from their table with murderous glares. From their weapons and stances, these two weren’t run of the mill thugs. Probably Reclamation veterans. Each had maybe ten inches and three stone on Rin. The two elves drew their swords and moved to opposite sides of the boy. So, not only ex-soldiers, but they knew how to fight together.

Patrons scampered out of the way. Rin looked over at the two elves, giving each a cursory inspection. Rin turned to the two elves with an annoyed expression on his face. A familiar fear shot through Kurt. He felt it anytime he watched Rin fight. Granted, Rin fought against worse odds before, but at least his own weapons were drawn.

“This isn’t your fight,” Rin said, “Sit back down and enjoy your drinks. Otherwise, things get bad for you.” Where did Rin learn that command voice?

“I’ve always wondered how such small people believe they’re our equals,” the bigger one said.

“You won’t like finding out.”

“You don’t look hard to kill,” the elf said.

“A lot of dead men said the same thing.”

The smaller elf circled behind Rin and attacked. Kurt saw the brilliant flash of flame and heard the ear-splitting roar before he realized Rin drew the firearm. Burnt brimstone and coppery blood odors filled the room. The second boom deafened the dwarf. As the gray smoke dispersed, both elves lay dead on the floor, blood pooling under the bodies. Rin grabbed the barkeep by the neck. With a quick jerk, Rin yanked the elf over the bar.

“Of all the Protector-damned stupid things to do!” Rin yelled loud enough for Kurt to hear through his ringing ears. “You got both of those men killed for nothing!” Rin whipped the gun’s barrel across the barkeep’s face. The barkeep sputtered in broken Mareian.

“Quit lying to me!” Rin hit the barkeep again. Blood flowed down from the barkeep’s mouth.

The glint of a dagger drew Kurt’s eyes as another patron started to stand. The elf didn’t see Kurt step next to him. Kurt’s massive hand clamped down on the elf’s wrist and squeezed. The elf let out a startled yelp of pain as the dagger clattered to the floor. Rin looked back and locked eyes with Kurt. There was no happiness, or even gratitude, in those green eyes. Only frustration. A deeper pain than Kurt had ever known lanced through him. Rin returned his glare to the barkeep.

“A human!” Rin barked at the barkeep, “Blond hair. Dark clothing. May have called himself Smythe.” Rin backhanded the barkeep. “Tell me everything you know now! Do not make me kill anyone else!”

“Let him up,” a new voice ordered. An elf walked out from behind the bar pointing a crossbow at Rin. Two more were in the door with swords drawn. All wore the green armbands of the local constables.

“Not a chance,” Rin snarled at the constable, “I’m a Mareian ranger on a hunt. This one has information on my quarry. Go back outside and let me do my job.” The constable tightened his grip on the crossbow. The room was silent except for the stifled sobs of the barkeep.

“Stop pointing that crossbow at a Hero of the Empire!” Kurt ordered. All three constables reflexively lowered their weapons as they stared at Kurt in shock. Kurt took a step forward and pulled his medallion out. It gleamed in the dim light of the public house.

“I am Hero Volker, and that is Hero Acciaio,” Kurt declared. “Do not interfere in Hero business!” The constables snapped to attention. Rin shot Kurt an angry look.

“Rin Acciaio?” the crossbowman asked incredulously, staring at Rin, “Rin Acciaio’s a dwarf.” Rin’s head turned slowly and locked on the constable.

“What do you mean, a dwarf?” Rin asked, his words dangerously enunciating the last words.

“Rin Acciaio, the dwarf archer as good as an elf,” the constable answered, “That’s how I’ve always heard it. The Heroes of the Empire who rescued the last of the Crystal Blood. Jevin Folim the disgraced Crystal Guard who led the Heroes, Selene Onale the scholar who found the prophecies, Marteen Madrigal the greatest swordmaster of his generation, his sister Ela the hunter who could track anyone, Sasha Tikeri the mercenary, Pallus Parn the nobling, Trennis Permstar the courtier, Kurt Volker the dwarven champion, his son Rin Acciaio, and Ral Evaster the betrayer.” Rin’s head whipped to Kurt with an accusing look. Kurt just nodded. There would be time to explain later.

“Well, I’m not a dwarf, whatever you heard. Now be good little constables and leave so I can finish my interrogation,” Rin said. The three constables retreated out of the bar with a surprising haste. As soon as they were out of sight, the patrons stampeded for the door. The few too drunk to waddle out of the public house slithered under their tables. None wanted to be in the same room as two Heroes of the Empire, especially when one was clearly enraged. Rin waited for the running to finish.

“Rin,” Kurt said.

“Not now,” Rin cut him off. He lifted the barkeep off the floor and slammed the man up against the wall. “You were telling me about the human.”

“Are you really Rin Acciaio?” the barkeep asked in a terrified voice. Rin returned his pistol to its small scabbard on his belt and pulled the medallion from under his shirt. The barkeep took one look at the gold disc and swallowed hard.

“They gave me money not to say anything,” the barkeep stammered, “The human met them here. They talked in the back.”

“Who’s ‘they?’” Rin asked, his voice cold and emotionless.

“No names, but they were nobles,” the barkeep answered, eagerly. “Paid in full Imperials.”

“Did the human leave with them?” Rin asked. The barkeep nodded furiously. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” the barkeep said. Rin tightened his grip. “I swear to the Goddess, I don’t know! They didn’t say, and I was careful not to pay attention.” Rin stared intently into the barkeep’s eyes. Rin tossed the man to the floor. Kurt stood dumbfounded as Rin strode to the door. Rin paused at the doorway. He turned back and looked at Kurt.

“You coming?” Rin asked, impatiently. Kurt stared as Rin turned and walked out of the inn. After a moment, Kurt shook himself and trotted after Rin. The boy was untying his horse like nothing had happened.

“What under the God of Iron was that?” Kurt demanded, storming down on Rin.

“That won’t work anymore Kurt,” Rin said, “I’m not that boy anymore.”

“Who are you then?” Kurt demanded, “The Rin I knew wouldn’t beat a man bloody for information.”

“I have a job to do. I will do whatever I need to do to finish my job and go home.”

“You are home,” Kurt said.

“No, I’m not.”

“What about Illana?”

“The Protector damn Illana,” Rin said. His words were cold enough to chill the dwarf’s bones. Without another word, Rin climbed on his horse. Kurt stood on the pub’s step agape as Rin started riding away. After a few moment, Kurt pulled himself together and climbed onto his own horse.

Kurt trailed Rin for the rest of the day. He thought he would have all his questions answered. Why did Rin disappear ten years ago? Where had he gone? What had he been doing since then? Instead of answers, Kurt was left with more far more difficult questions. Who was this man Rin had become? What turned him so hard? And worst of all, how could Rin say that about Illana?

It was Rin’s life in the Republic of Marei. Kurt read how brutal things were in the human lands. That might even explain why he reacted that way at the mention of Illana’s name. As he continued to ride, Kurt reached a hard conclusion. Kurt did something to drive the person he cared for the most in the world into the clutches of those who twisted him into a person Kurt couldn’t recognize. The very idea was almost too painful to contemplate. As the daylight faded into dark, Kurt decided he needed answers. They might be painful, but the uncertainty was tearing him apart.

Kurt hesitated when he saw the campsite and the cookfire. Collecting every scrap of courage he could muster Kurt rode into the camp. Rin looked up from the fire as Kurt neared. He didn’t say anything as Kurt dismounted, tended to his pony, grabbed his saddlebags, and walked stiffly over to the fire. Rin just tended to the rabbit roasting on the spit. The two sat in silence. After a long while, Rin wordlessly handed Kurt a tin cup. The dwarf gratefully accepted. Peering into the cup, he saw it filled with coffee with just a hint of cream. The boy remembered. Maybe that was a hopeful sign. Kurt took a long gulp of the scalding liquid as Rin divided up the rabbit. The two ate in silence. To Kurt’s surprise, it was Rin who spoke first.

“Of all the places in the Empire, why did you have to be in that public house?” Rin asked.

“I haven’t seen or heard from you in ten years,” Kurt answered, “I needed to see my son. I needed to know what happened to you.” Rin stared wordlessly into the fire. It was a familiar mannerism. The boy did that when he didn’t want to look at someone. Kurt braced himself and asked the question.

“What happened to you?” Kurt asked, “You just vanished without a word. Not even a note. What did I do to make you leave?” Rin locked eyes with Kurt. The green eyes danced with anger and pain. Kurt pushed down the sudden tightness in his throat.

“Nothing. You did nothing,” Rin said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“If I didn’t do anything, then why did you leave?”

“You didn’t need me anymore, Kurt. None of you did. We rescued Illana, brought her back to Lisandra, and what happened? All of you were showered with rewards. You were given positions in the Empire. Not me. Not the human. I was ignored – and none of you said a thing. Not a damn thing.”

Kurt’s mind raced back to the days after their group finally made it back to the capital. The days after returning Illana to the Crystal Palace were a blur. The entire population of Lisandra erupted into an almost constant celebration. Kurt was dragged into endless discussions of how the dwarves would fit into this new era with the return of the Crystal Blood. Rin was there, but Kurt couldn’t remember what the boy was doing. Was Rin pushed to the side? To Kurt’s eternal shame, he just couldn’t remember.

“Son, I am so sorry,” Kurt said. The last bits of rabbit fell to the ground as Kurt slumped down and sobbed. “I swear, I didn’t realize what was happening to you. We were all so busy, and I just assumed you were busy as well or with Illana. I wish you told me. I didn’t want you going away. I never wanted that. I didn’t want you to become…” Kurt’s voice trailed as he saw the cold look on Rin’s face.

“Become what, Kurt?” Rin asked. The flat tone was all the more stinging for its lack of anger. “I’m proud of my life since I went back home. I’m a Mareian ranger. I did that all on my own. I wasn’t following some stupid prophecy. I was choosing my own path. My own life.”

“Please, Rin, I wasn’t trying to insult you. Before I saw you walk into that public house, all I could remember was the happy, little boy who dragged me all over the Granite Mountains. Then all the sudden, you killed two men and beat and threatened that barkeep.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve seen me kill, Kurt,” Rin replied, sharply.

“This was different. I’ve seen you kill in the heat of combat. Back in the public house? There was a coldness I’ve never seen in you. It was shocking.” Rin sat quietly for several minutes. Kurt focused on what he could salvage of his dinner. Did he say the wrong thing and drive Rin further away?

“So why do they think I’m a dwarf?” Rin asked, breaking the silence. The non sequitur jarred Kurt. He looked deep into his coffee cup before answering.

“I don’t know where it started. It took root before we heard it in the Crystal Palace. At first, I corrected anyone who said you were a dwarf. No one listened. No one wanted to believe a human would fight alongside dwarves and elves. And no one believed a human could use a bow better than an elf. A dwarf was somehow more believable. I knew when you returned to fulfill the promise, that would be put an end to it.”

“Kurt, I didn’t come back because of the promise. I’m here because a human sorcerer is tinkering around with some very evil magic. I’m here to find him and bring him back to the Republic.”

“Rin, you promised her,” Kurt said, shaken by Rin’s words, “You looked her in her eyes, and promised you’d be with her when it was time for her to assume the throne.”

“I was a kid when we made that promise. A stupid kid who didn’t know what the Empire really was. I’m not that stupid kid anymore, and I’m damn sure not going to honor a promise to help the damned Empire.”

“Pallus is the same age as you,” Kurt retorted angrily, “He understood what was being asked of him.” Rin’s eyes lit with rage.

“Let me be clear. The Empire made it clear it didn’t owe me anything for helping to return Illana. I don’t owe the Empire, or her, one damned thing.” Kurt bit down his retort. Instincts honed as a diplomat over the past decade told him to calm down and look at it from Rin’s point of view. If what the boy said was true, then of course Rin felt betrayed. If the Empire betrayed him, why should Kurt expect Rin to feel any loyalty to the Empire, or the person expected to embody the spirit of the Empire? Kurt let out a long breath. This wasn’t an issue that was going to be resolved tonight.

“Rin, please, I’m trying to take in everything you just told me,” Kurt said, “I haven’t seen you for so long. I don’t want to spend our first night arguing.” Rin pursed his lips and nodded silently. Kurt smiled at his son.

“So, tell me, what exactly is a ranger? Marteen described them as fearsome cavalry troopers, but the ones at the embassy act more like constables.”

“We’re both. Sort of,” Rin answered, giving Kurt a genuine smile. “Originally, the rangers patrolled the steppe along the border with the Northern Kingdom. We were forced to be both soldiers and lawmen for the frontier towns and farms. About ten years before the Daemon War, some Senators tried to overthrow the Republic and set themselves up as a cabal. The legions, the constables, even the personal guards of the Senators – all of them were paralyzed. It was the rangers who rode into Marei City, killed the usurpers, and returned control to the Senate. After that, the rangers were officially charged with upholding Mareian law and borders.”

“So, the rangers sent you after this sorcerer because they knew you grew up in this part of the world?” Kurt asked.

“No,” Rin answered around a mouthful of rabbit. Kurt gave his son an old-fashioned look. Rin just shrugged. “He did the ritual in my patrol area, it’s my responsibility. So, now I’m hunting him down to bring him back.”

“What kind of ritual would make you go across the sea to get him?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know, but he murdered eighteen people to fuel it,” Rin said. Kurt choked on the coffee.

“Eighteen people?” Kurt asked. “And you have no idea what the ritual was for?”

“No. The demon helping the sorcerer didn’t even know.”

“God of Iron, you talked to a demon?” Kurt asked.

“They’re just part of the Badlands, Kurt,” Rin replied.

“Wait, the Badlands?” Kurt asked, his eyes nearly popping out of his head, “That place Marteen only talks about when he’s really drunk?” Rin nodded as he sipped his mug of coffee.

“Honestly, it’s not nearly as bad as Marteen’s stories make it out to be,” Rin said. “I wouldn’t raise a family there, but it’s not the terror-filled land he describes.”

“How can you say that? I remember Marteen’s stories. Two thousand soldiers of the Reclamation Army marched into those lands and only twenty elves walked out – none were ever quite right afterwards. Including Marteen. How do you not go insane?”

“The Badlands doesn’t affect humans like it does elves,” Rin answered. “Besides, most of those elves died from dehydration, not from going insane.” Kurt took a long sip of his coffee as he grappled with what Rin told him. Not just about why he left, but what he had been doing back in the human lands.

“Why don’t you get some sleep Kurt? I’ll take the first watch.” Kurt gratefully accepted the offer and trudged over to his bedroll. Sleep was elusive as his thoughts kept hammering through him.

I don’t know if I can adequately explain why the Night of Fire and Blood happened, Mr. Ambassador, but I will try. It is important to understand the depth of feeling among the population when the infant princess was born. She was the promise for the healing of the Jeweled Empire. Her kidnapping shattered that hope among everyone, but particularly among the commons. As commons, they had no other way to express such base emotions. It was very unfortunate that it was the dwarven and human residents of Lisandra who were the primary victims. – Ambassador Rela during the initial negotiations for re-opening trade between the Jeweled Empire and the Republic of Marei

RIN

A day later, Rin was on a ship to the Jeweled Empire. Bruno didn’t get the sorcerer’s name, but he found the ship the sorcerer boarded and where he was heading. Bruno was surprised that the locals did remember the odd man wanting passage to Black Cove. According to the people Bruno talked to, the sorcerer acted like he got his information about Fools Port and smugglers from a paper novel. Most of the smuggler crews brushed off the sorcerer because they didn’t trust him. One of them finally agreed to take him to Black Cove at an exorbitant cost. The man didn’t even bother haggling, which caused a lot of talk down around the docks.

Rin hated the ocean. He hated the smell and the constant rocking. His father’s family made their livelihoods on the sea for generations. The blood that yearned for the spray of the ocean skipped him. Nausea kept him from eating much since walking on to the ship, which didn’t help his mood.

Neither did the medallion pulsing happily as the Sea Dancer slipped through the waves to the Jeweled Empire. Rin grasped the small gold disc from beneath his shirt. It was a few centimeters in diameter and thick like a Kingdom guilden coin. One side was inscribed with the thanks of a grateful empire. That turned out to be a lie. On the other side was the promise to return. He looked hard at those elven words. Pain and anger threatened to rise up from where he buried it. As far as Rin was concerned, that promise was broken a decade ago. He was only going to the Empire to find the sorcerer and bring him to justice. Everything on that continent could burn as far as Rin was concerned. He thought about throwing the medallion into the sea, but his hand stopped as soon as he started to take it off. The flash of a familiar face in his mind’s eye stayed his hand.

A soft cough startled Rin. He tucked the medallion back under his shirt before turning to face the ship’s ancient sailing master. There was something familiar about the wizened man, but Rin couldn’t place it. The man was short and stooped, with a few whisps of gray hair peeking out from under a weathered top hat. He gave Rin a toothless smile and straightened his worn topcoat.

“Captain’s compliments, and we should be in Black Cove tomorrow afternoon,” the sailing master said, “Provided the Protector continues to send us the good winds like He has.” Dutifully, the sailing master fingers danced in the Sign of the Protector.

“Thank you,” Rin answered politely.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, this should be an interesting homecoming for you, sir,” the sailing master said quietly. The words jolted Rin.

“Excuse me?” Rin asked, his voice dropping to a warning tone.

“You don’t remember me, but I remember you,” the sailing master said, giving Rin another wide smile. “Of course, forgetting you would be hard. You’re a spitting image of your poppa.” The sailing master gave Rin a knowing look.

“You knew my father?” Rin asked, surprised by the man’s words.

“Everyone who did business with the pointy-ears before the Night of Fire and Blood knew your poppa. Man was a genius trader. He knew every elf merchant in the city and kept us out of trouble too many times to count. When those bastards lynched your folks, the crews of all the Mareian ships in Lisandra Bay were ready to charge into the city to get revenge. If those elf soldiers didn’t stop us, that is. Of course, we thought you were dead too at the time.” Most of Rin’s memories of his parents were just fragments. Except for that night. Those were crystal clear. The terror of his parents’ screams as the mob hacked them apart. Rin’s breathless run to find help. Finding that help. Rin stomped down on that last one. He wasn’t ready to think about the old dwarf yet.

“Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to drudge up bad memories,” the sailing master said, breaking Rin’s reveille. “I just remembered how happy Captain Lucius was when you turned up alive. Fifteen years after the Night of Blood and Fire, and there you were, standing on that dock in Lisandra, asking for passage back to the Republic with a bag of elf gold.” Rin’s mind clicked on when he’d seen the sailing master before.

“You were on the Consuls’ Trader!” Rin said, astonished at the turn of fate that brought the two of them back together again.

“Oh, aye. Before your grandmother – that dark-hearted bitch, if you’ll excuse me from saying so – blacklisted us all for ferrying you back,” the sailing master said. “We heard you and her parted ways, uh, less than amicably shall we say, before she decided to make us all pay for it.”

“You mean when she declared vendetta?” Rin replied, with dark humor. His throat suddenly became tight. “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me she would take it out on all of you. I was just trying to stay alive at the time.” Rin remembered cautiously walking up to Captain Lucius at the Trader’s gang plank. After a few minutes of stumbling through barely remembered Mareian, the tall man dressed in blue jacket with heavy gold embroidery snatched Rin and dragged him onto the ship with a wide smile. The fortnight sailing back to the Republic was a happy time. Rin was treated like a long-lost son or younger brother. Rin added another large tick-mark in the book he kept in his head. Someday, his grandmother would pay for all the harm she inflicted with her vendetta.

“Don’t apologize son,” the sailing master said, “Any of us would have done it, even if we knew ahead of time what it would cost us. We owed your poppa that much.” The sailing master’s words made Rin pause. For the past ten years, Rin assumed the Trader’s crew treated him so well because of his grandmother. Had it been because of his father instead?

“If you don’t mind me asking, son, where were you all those years?” the sailing master asked, “The captain told us it had something to do with all that ruckus when the elves got their princess stolen.”

“I grew up in the dwarven lands, then got caught up in something I thought was a good idea but turned out bad. In the end, I just wanted to get away from everyone in the Empire,” Rin answered. He hoped he hadn’t offended the older man with such a cryptic answer, but Rin didn’t like talking about his life there. The sailing master just nodded. The two of them were quiet for a minute, listening to the sounds of a ship underway.

“So, what’ve you been up to since we dropped you off on the docks?” the sailing master asked, breaking the silence. “Besides upsetting your grandmother so fiercely?” If anyone else asked, Rin would have told him the carefully prepared cover story of being a bounty hunter chasing down a mark. It just seemed wrong to lie to a man who lost everything helping a desperate eighteen-year-old kid.

“Joined the rangers,” Rin answered, trying to keep his voice casual. The sailing master was quiet for a long moment. Rin started to second-guess his decision.

“Good profession, that,” the sailing master said, as if Rin said he was a bookkeeper or a farmer. The two men stood in silence, looking out at the horizon. The winds were picking up briskly. It looked like the sailing master’s prediction about the timing of their landing was correct.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to ask your name,” Rin said.

“Kromer, son. Jonas Kromer,” the sailing master answered.

“Well, if it means anything, Mr. Kromer, I’m truly grateful for what you and the crew did for me,” Rin said, extending his hand, “If there’s anything I can do for you, please ask.” Kromer grasped Rin’s hand in an iron grasp.

“I might hold you to that if the Republican Navy’s feeling a bit frisky before we make port,” Kromer answered light-heartedly, “Having a ranger vouch for us might just keep them for peeking into some of the holds.” Kromer winked mischievously. For the first time in weeks, Rin felt some of his burdens ease as he laughed at the small man’s half-joke.

Within a week, the Sea Dancer approached Black Cove. According to hack adventure paper novel writers, Black Cove earned its name for being an illicit port for smuggled goods and reveling pirates. In truth, the name came from the black, volcanic sand ringing the harbor. Despite the name’s mundane origin, Black Cove did its best to live up to its infamous reputation. As the Sea Dancer glided into the harbor’s waters, Rin saw at least three ships on the Republic Navy’s “sink-at-all-costs” list, including the infamous pirate ship Night Stalker.

The Sea Dancer slid into one of the many rough-built slips cramming the port. Sailors scrambled down the brig’s sides to secure the ship’s lines. Rin watched the activity. The captain made it clear that for the pittance Rin paid for his passage, he could wait until after the crew offloaded the far more valuable cargo. Time was money for smugglers just as it was for legal traders. The quicker the cargo was off loaded, the quicker it got sold, and the sooner the crew could spend their shares. The whorehouses and gambling dens beckoned from across the wharf.

The wait gave Rin time to study the other ships tied up at the dock. Three slips down was the ship that carried the sorcerer to Black Cove. He committed the faces of the ship’s sailors to memory. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be forced to be too rough when he questioned one of them. Rin always preferred when people cooperated. Violence took valuable time. Rin needed to find the sorcerer and get off this cursed continent. Finally, Jonas Kromer told Rin he was free to leave the ship. Rin shook Kromer’s hand one more time before slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder, picking up his saddle, and leading his horse down the gangplank.

As soon as Rin’s boots hit the dirt road at the end of the dock, a wave of power shot through him. Rin momentarily lost his footing. The medallion’s pulse was stronger than ever. The damn thing thrummed like a drum through Rin’s body. Holding tight to his horse, the pulsing subsided. As the pulsing quieted, Rin realized he felt different kinds of pulses through the medallion. Five different kinds.

Protector damn it all, it’s them! With just a bit of concentration, Rin could discern which pulse belonged to who and how close they were. His eyes widened. One was close. Very close. Rin concentrated on the pulsing, and he knew who it was. Of all people, what was he doing here?

Rin shook himself. Fate, planning, or coincidence didn’t matter. Rin was here to find the sorcerer and bring the man back to the Republic – alive or dead. Everything else could wait. The thought stopped him in his tracks. Did he want to see the others? No. Just finish the hunt and be done with it.

Besides, they didn’t need me once Illana was returned. Why would they want to see me now? Just thinking her name sent a pang of familiar hurt through him. Pushing the pain back down, Rin grasped his horse’s leads and walked into the town. It was time to get to work.

The port side of Black Cove looked more Mareian than elven. The wooden buildings thrown up beyond the docks had the Mareian squareness and harsh angles. Even the streets were laid out in the familiar Republican squares. Rin chuckled to himself at the contrast of the orderly nature of the town to the rowdiness of its denizens. It took a few hours, but Rin singled out one of the sailors for interrogation. Rin watched from the shadows as the man walked out of a whorehouse, stumbling back towards the public house where his crewmates waited. From the cut of the man’s clothes, he was the ship’s second or third mate. Senior enough to have useful information, with just enough experience to know better than to fight with a ranger, and just young enough to forget to bargain. Rin scruffed the sailor by his jacket collar and yanked him into the alley next to the public house. Nice thing about illicit ports, everyone ignored anything not happening to them or their crewmates.

“What under the Protector’s Eyes?” the sailor blubbered as Rin slammed him against a wall.

“You had a passenger on your ship. I want to know about him,” Rin said with a calm tone. The sailor lunged with a rigging knife. Rin sidestepped the drunken attack with contemptuous ease before grabbing the sailor’s arm and twisted it behind his back. A sharp squeeze and the knife dropped to the dirt ground. The sailor cursed and struggled. This one had more fight in him than expected. Frustrated, Rin slammed the man’s face into the wall with a bit more force than he intended. The familiar wet crunch of a broken nose was followed by a muffled cry of pain.

“I will say this once,” Rin said in the same calm tone, “You will tell me about your passenger. You don’t have a choice about that. Your only choice is exactly how mangled your body will be before you tell me. I would prefer not to go through all the trouble of crippling you.” The sailor stopped struggling. Common sense was finally emerging in his alcohol-soaked mind.

“Who are you?” the sailor asked, spitting blood across the wall.

“Ranger,” Rin answered. The sailor froze. According to the stories, rangers would go anywhere and kill anyone who tried to get in their way. While the first part was mostly true, the last part was just hack writing. Still, the mythos was useful on occasion.

“Sweet Protector, we didn’t know he was hunted!” the sailor said, starting to weep. “We thought he was just one of those Kingdom nobles trying to escape their civil war. I swear, we didn’t know he was hunted!”

“Why did you think he was a Kingdom noble?” Rin asked, loosening his hold just a bit.

“His accent. He was trying to sound like he was from the Southlands, but it was just a bit forced, you know. Like one of those stage shows. We’d seen another of them nobles use it when he was trying to get to the Southlands,” the smuggler said. Rin added that fact to the little he knew about the sorcerer.

“Where was he going?” Rin asked.

“The Poison Well,” the smuggler answered, “It’s a public house up in the elf part of town. He gave us each four gold senatiums to forget him. Not enough when one of you comes asking, though.” Rin released the man. The sailor pulled out a handkerchief and held it up to his bleeding nose. Rin picked up the man’s knife and handed it back.

“What’s his name?” Rin asked.

“Smythe,” the sailor said, shrugging his shoulders. Smythe was one of the most common surnames in the Kingdom. On Torra, that would have made the hunt more difficult. There were so many Kingdomers fleeing their civil war. Humans were rare enough in the elven lands that it wouldn’t matter what name the sorcerer was using. Someone would remember him once he left Black Cove.

“You will not speak of me or that your passenger is hunted. If I catch wind otherwise…” Rin let the sentence trail off. Better to let the man’s imagination fill in the details. The sailor nodded with a jerk before sprinting out of the alley. Rin looked up the road to the elven side of Black Cove and grimaced. It could never be easy. He untied his horse’s reigns and started to trudge up the road towards his medallion’s pulsing.

Chapter 4

Among the prominent nations of our world, the Mareians are particularly noteworthy for their commercial acumen. It is indeed a peculiar historical phenomenon that, despite the First Families of Marei eschewing trade as an ignoble pursuit, numerous “Second Families” ascended to prominence by constructing extensive and resilient trade networks. These networks exhibited remarkable fortitude, enduring the calamities of the daemon invasion and the subsequent War of Reclamation, thereby illustrating the enduring nature of commerce. The Mareians imposed their most prolonged trade embargo following the pogroms during the Night of Fire and Blood. This decisive action can be attributed to the systematic extermination of their traders by elven perpetrators. The Mareians collectively resolved to impart a lesson on the consequences of being deprived of legitimate commerce. However, in true Mareian fashion, the official embargo did not entirely deter them from engaging in trade with those possessing the requisite capital. Thus, the Mareians navigated the complex domain of commerce with a pragmatic approach, ensuring the continuity of trade even amidst adversity. This tale underscores the principles of economic resilience and adaptability, traits that have long characterized the Mareian people. – Excerpt from “Wealth and Trade” by Scholar Imini Loc

RIN

Fools Port was notorious in the Mareian Republic for good reasons. With Juniper Bay a mere thirty kilometers to the north, legitimate shippers avoided Fools Port’s unreliable harbor. The tides fluctuated too fast, sandbars appeared out of nowhere, and the strange winds seemed to delight in slamming ships into the shoals. No respectable captain would risk his ship, his sailors, and most importantly, his cargo, to those conditions. Not even the Republican Navy risked its ships in Fools Port. As a result, Fools Port evolved into a haven for those whose cargoes were somewhat less than legal, or those bound for less than legal destinations. As that particular business boomed, the town absorbed smugglers’ culture. Lawmen weren’t welcome, and that went double for any ranger.

As he rode through the town, Rin wore a ranch hand’s green cotton shirt and denim trousers. His uniform was at the bottom of one of his saddlebags. There were enough veterans around that Rin’s worn cavalry boots, wide brimmed hat, and long brown duster wouldn’t draw much notice. Rin didn’t want to wear the duster in the humid heat of Fools Port. It was bad enough in the dry heat of the Badlands, but at least there it had the advantage of keeping the grit from getting everywhere. He needed the long jacket to cover his ranger-issued scimitar and revolver. Those would definitely draw unwanted notice, but Rin wasn’t about to walk those streets without proper weapons.

Rin didn’t have a lot of information on the sorcerer. Demons weren’t very good at distinguishing one human from another. The description Rin managed to pry out of the demon was the sorcerer was taller than Rin, blond hair, and wore a dark cloak over light colored clothing. That was about as good as Rin was ever going to get from a demon. Rin knew where to get more. Rin dismounted in front of one of many identical warehouses clustered around the wharfs. A bell chimed as Rin walked into the warehouse’s front office. The man at the counter looked up and froze as he saw Rin.

“Hello Bruno,” Rin said, casually, “Nice to see you again. How’s business?”

“Who knows you’re here?” Bruno hissed. He quickly drew the drapes on the few windows.

“The rangers know I’m in Fools Port, but not who I was going to see. I didn’t see anyone I recognized coming in, or anyone who looked like they recognized me,” Rin answered.

“Do you know what would happen if she knew you were here, cousin?” Bruno asked.

“Our grandmother hasn’t sent anyone after me since I killed her last thug a couple of years ago,” Rin answered. “I half-hoped she dropped the matter. I’m guessing she hasn’t.” Only his grandmother could make demons seem reasonable. “Sorry, cousin. She’s lashing out at everyone lately. More so than usual, and no one knows why,” Bruno said, finally hugging his cousin. “So, what are you doing in this place? Last I heard, you were out in the Badlands.” Bruno motioned Rin over to the counter and shoved a mug of bitter wine into his cousin’s hands.

“I’m hunting someone. According to my information, my quarry came here to catch a ship,” Rin explained. Bruno arched his eyebrow. He knew better than to get between a ranger and his quarry.

“Why would he catch a ship here if he’s coming from the Badlands? Why didn’t he just go up to Blackstack and grab the railroad? He could have gone anywhere from there,” Bruno said.

“Because he’s heading to the Jeweled Empire,” Rin answered.

“Well, it makes sense to send you,” Bruno said, after a few moments, “You did grow up down there. You even have that nifty necklace they gave you.” At its mention, the medallion pulsed.

“Let’s not discuss that,” Rin answered flatly. Rin didn’t like to think of his years growing up in the Jeweled Lands. He didn’t want to deal with the cold anger down in his gut. He couldn’t let that cloud his judgement. Especially not when he was hunting someone as dangerous as the sorcerer.

“Sorry cousin, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” Bruno said, seeing the dark expression on Rin’s face. “I know. I apologize.” He took a sip of his own wine and smiled at his cousin. Bruno was one of the few members in his father’s family willing to talk with Rin.

“So, what can I do to help you?”

“First, I need to find out what ship my quarry fled on. Then, I’ll need to get passage to follow him down to the Empire,” Rin answered.

“He must be pretty bad for you to hunt him that far,” Bruno mused, “So what’s this guy’s name? I can ask around.” Rin gave his cousin a weak smile.

“I don’t know,” Rin said, “All I know is that he’s taller than me, blond, and was wearing a dark cloak when he left the Badlands.”

“How do you expect me to find someone in this town with just a vague description?” Bruno asked incredulously.

“Granted, there aren’t many blondes who come through here, but there are enough to make it hard to nail down just one.”

“People will remember this man,” Rin answered. The magic released in that kind of ritual stayed with a person, like an almost imperceptible odor. The people in Fools Port tended to be more sensitive than most. They would remember an odd blond man. Maybe Rin would get lucky and find out the sorcerer’s name.

“So, what if he’s already on his way down to the elves?”

“I’ll need you to find me a ship.”

Chapter 3

In the chronicles of our valiant struggle during the Reclamation War, we encountered no adversary more daunting than the Mareian Rangers. These formidable foes were not merely adept horsemen, akin to the Kingdom’s Hussars, nor simply exemplary marksmen like the Mareian Chosen, nor merely accomplished woodsmen, reminiscent of our own Imperial Scouts. Each Ranger was a paragon of all these virtues, underpinned by an indefatigable spirit that drove them to persevere against insurmountable odds—far beyond the endurance of any ordinary soldier. Tales of their rigorous training, necessary to earn the esteemed title of Ranger, were recounted around our campfires, intended to instill a profound sense of respect and caution. The presence of even a single Ranger on the battlefield was a harbinger of doom for many, with the extent of the carnage constrained only by the ammunition at his disposal. Within their ranks, it was said, there were those whose very presence invoked trepidation amongst their comrades. These were the Rangers who ventured into the desolate and perilous expanse known as the Badlands. Thus, they became legends in their own right—a testament to the valor and tenacity that epitomized the Mareian Rangers. – excerpt from “Memoirs of the Reclamation War” by Lord Junis Vallen, commander of the Eagle Division

RIN

In the Republic of Marei, common wisdom was one shouldn’t enter the Badlands if one wanted to remain alive – or sane. The Badlands were a cursed expanse of desert. Most people went mad in a few months. Rin was one of the few who could traverse the Badlands and keep his sanity. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

The magic might not make me insane, but seeing things like this might, Rin thought. After nearly eight years working in the Badlands as a Republican ranger, Rin thought he’d seen all the horror the cursed lands could throw at him. He should have known better. Rin climbed down off his horse and carefully tread on the sandy ground. His horse refused to go any closer. Common sense was for Rin to gallop back to Fort Killian as fast as he could and return with as many of his fellow rangers as he could. Sometimes, unfortunately, common sense needed to be put aside to get the job done. Particularly when dealing with demons.

“Just as I told you,” hissed the foul creature, as it shimmered into visibility. Rin ignored the demon as he studied the scene.

Most people thought of demons as monsters who tore through army platoons without effort. Some demons could, but most of them were little more than shadows. Nothing like the daemon they once had been. When those monsters opened gates two centuries ago, the daemon slaughtered millions. The races of the world threw whatever they could forge, build, or cast against the invaders. It wasn’t until almost all the world’s natural magic was locked away by Killian’s Benevolent Betrayal that the races of the world had a fighting chance. Without being able to tap into natural magic, the daemon were vulnerable. They died, but they didn’t leave this realm. They became demons and drawn to the Badlands because somewhere in the cursed land was where Killian performed his ritual.

“Done what required. Fulfill your bargain,” the demon said, with a voice like a loud, malicious whisper. Demons were able to use a bit of their own magic. Enough to channel the trickles of the world’s natural magic still left into powerful spells. Demons used their magic to lure idiots looking for power. Those idiots never understood that the demons’ magic also allowed them to enforce the bargain. Any demon’s ultimate goal was to gain a shard of a person’s soul. The power of a soul allowed the demon to fully come into the world with all the power and terror of the long-dead daemon. A souled demon was immensely powerful on its own, but it could also bind any other demon and use their power. Most of Rin’s job was stopping fools looking for demons before the demons found them. That didn’t mean he was above bargaining with the demons when necessary. He just had to be very careful about the terms.

Demons ranged the gamut from simple innocent-looking tricksters to true horrors that hurt a person’s mind just by looking. Most demons tried to mimic humans when dealing with people, but for some reason they could never get the details quite right. The eyes were too big, or the hair was a metallic color, or there were tentacles instead of fingers. There was always something off. This demon didn’t bother with pretenses. Rin wasn’t a short man at nearly two meters, but the demon towered over him. Its current form was a slimy, bulging mass of gray flesh, tentacles, and claws. There was only a small protrusion with eyes and mouth. Usually, these kinds of demons just slaughtered anything around it until it was put down. Rin was surprised when it approached him the night before to bargain for information.

“No, you haven’t done what was required,” Rin replied. The demon shrank back from Rin’s gaze. It wasn’t going to do anything stupid while Rin still held the prize of a soul shard. Demons were often depicted in paper novels as wily, cunning foes. They could be – if you forgot what they were after. Above all else, the demons wanted soul shards. All their promises, all their gifts, all their magic was devoted to gaining those precious shards. Hold that out as bait, and a demon would agree to damn near anything.

Rin covered his face with a bandanna. The cloth cut the stench down to bearable. Torn human innards smelled bad enough. After baking in the hot sun, the odor would make most people wretch. Unfortunately, the stench wasn’t what was causing Rin’s stomach to flop over. According to the demon, this scene was two days old. Badlands scavengers never passed up a free meal, but there weren’t even any flies on the bodies. Eighteen people tied hand to foot in a large circle, including the half-dozen children. From their features and clothing, these people were probably refugees escaping the Northern Kingdom’s civil war. Instinctively, Rin undid the leather lashes on his sword and revolver. Rin could feel the wrongness from the remnants magic of a powerful spell. Damn, the demon was telling the truth.

Rin swallowed again and took another step to inspect the bodies. From the bruises and scrapes on the men’s faces and knuckles, they tried to put up a fight. Examining the expressions on the faces, these people were alive when the ritual symbols were cut into their flesh. Just looking at the symbols gave Rin a headache. The perpetrator murdered all of these people to fuel the ritual. Rin had seen it before. Use the demon to bring in the trickles of natural magic and then use a sacrifice to intensify it.

“What was this ritual?” Rin asked as he stood up from his examination. The demon’s flesh pulsed quizzically.

“What about the bargain?” the demon asked, ignoring Rin’s question.

“You told me you watched a human attack these people two nights ago, tie them up, and do a ritual.” Rin said, keeping his voice calm as he stepped back to his horse.

“You promised a shard!” the demon boomed.

“If you want me to give you a shard, then you need to tell me everything. That was the bargain,” Rin said.

“Told you everything,” the demon retorted, but it sounded pleading. The promise of a shard was too strong.

“If you told me everything, you would be able to enforce the bargain. You haven’t, so you can’t. Tell me everything or the bargain is forfeit,” Rin told the demon.

“Shard! Give the shard!” the demon wailed. Rin reached back and yanked the grapegun from its scabbard. He brought the double-barreled weapon up to his shoulder and touched off the first barrel. The demon let out an otherworldly howl as shards of obsidian penetrated its form. The gray flesh darkened as the demon became stuck between this world and their original one.

“Everything, now!” Rin demanded, “Or you get the second barrel – and it’s silver.” The demon quivered. Obsidian anchored demons to this world without the protection of a soul shard. While anchored, silver could banish a demon. For a time, at least. There was only one way to permanently banish a demon.

“Human said it would trade a shard for help,” the demon croaked, “Helped get these humans. That all! Human did its own ritual.” Rin quirked his eyebrow up. Since the near elimination of natural magic from Killian’s Benevolent Betrayal, there were only two sources of magical knowledge – the deities and the demons. No religious order would use such a horrific ritual, and no demon would have told a human about a ritual that powerful without getting a shard in payment. The rangers would have known if there was a souled demon. If the sheer carnage didn’t alert them, other demons would have been tripping over themselves to do so just to keep from being enslaved. Still, the demon was bound by the deal to tell Rin the truth. It could leave out parts, but whatever it told Rin must be true or the bargain would be forfeit. Demons who forfeited their bargains suffered the same fate as those who were bound with obsidian and hit with silver.

“What was the ritual for? What did it do?”

“I don’t know. The human was talking foolish things.”

“What did the human say?”

“It would find the heart of magic.” The demon pulsed with terror as Rin considered the words. Find the heart of magic? What under the Protector’s gaze would that mean? Rin studied the demon. It wasn’t lying. It wanted the shard too badly.

“You helped the human. So why didn’t you get a shard?” Rin asked, looking up at the demon.

“Ritual broke the bargain!” the demon exclaimed. The words sent a chill down Rin’s spine. Demon bargains were unbreakable. Not even clerics wielding the power of their gods could break a demon bargain. Magic that could break a demon bargain terrified Rin.

“Where did he go after this?” Rin asked, motioning to the human corpses.

“That not the bargain,” the demon protested, “Give shard!”

“The bargain was you lead me to this place and tell me everything you observed,” Rin said, “If the sorcerer said or hinted anything about where he was going, then you would have observed it.” The demon snarled as its flesh pulsed angrily.

“Hate humans. Especially hate you,” the demon said.

“I’m not fond of you either. Now answer!”

“Demanded human give shard. It said no. Tried to invoke bargain. Magic broke bargain. Threatened to kill human. It laughed. Said it was too busy to deal with demon. Had to catch a ship to elf lands.”

“So why didn’t you kill him?” Rin asked, ignoring the sudden pulsing from the medallion around his neck. Rin ignored it. Damn thing started up anytime someone mentioned the elves.

“Magic strange after ritual. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right,” the demon admitted. An unknown ritual that disabled a demon? What under the Protector’s Gaze could do that? Whatever it was, Rin needed to find out.

“Told everything. Now give shard.” Rin felt the wave of power as the demon invoked the bargain. Rin scanned the flat sandy area. His eyes locked on to the light glinting to the north. Well, it was about damned time. Rin looked at the demon.

“I, Rinaldo Batista Acciaio, give you a shard of my soul,” Rin said. As soon as he uttered the words, a wave of weakness hit him. Rin collapsed to the ground. The demon screamed in exaltation. Rin felt the unnatural shift in the air as the demon absorbed the shard of his soul. Rin rolled over and with the little bit of strength he could muster, flashed his signal mirror. The demon should have known better than to make a deal with a ranger.

Rin barely blocked a clawed tentacle with his mirror. The blow tore the signal mirror from Rin’s hands. Black fluid erupted from the demon’s body as the bullet struck. The report of the rifle echoed a second later. The demon quivered before screaming in agony. Silver could put down a demon once it was anchored in the world, but the demon would reappear anywhere from a month to a few years later. To permanently banish a demon, it needed to be pierced by star-iron. Every ranger carried a few of the precious bullets.

The demon went into spasms as the star-iron expelled its unnatural presence from the world. The demon’s body went still as the daemon ghost struggled to remain in this world. The fight lasted a few seconds. The demon’s body splattered across the ground as the daemon ghost was shoved out of this reality and back to its own. Rin felt his strength come back as the shard of his soul returned to him. The gamble paid off better than expected – and much worse. As much as he wished he could shove this duty off on anyone else, Rin knew he had the best chance of catching the sorcerer responsible for the horror in front of him. He staggered over to his horse and pulled out his writing tablet.

Rin was finishing his short report as his partner trotted up. Like Rin, Sergeant Nico Ignaccio had traditional Mareian features. Nico’s hair was straight and black, but unlike Rin, Nico kept his long enough to be tied back. Rin found short hair was much cooler in the heat of the Badlands. Nico was short and heavily-muscled, where Rin was of above average height and slim. Both had skin darker than the normal olive tone due to long days in the Badlands sun. Nico’s dark eyes normally twinkled with amusement.

“You were late with the shot,” Rin growled as Nico approached.

“Why are you always such a sheep’s cock? Most people would start with ‘that was a great shot, Nico. Especially from that distance. And with a star-iron bullet’,” Nico said.

“Yes, it was an excellent shot. Thank you. Now, I need you to help with that,” Rin said, pointing to the ritual site. Nico’s indignation evaporated as soon as he saw the ritual site.

“Sweet Protector, what happened here?” Nico asked. “I’ve never seen a demon ritual like this before.”

“It’s not a demon ritual,” Rin said.

“The Protector would ynever condone such a thing in His name. Not even the elves’ god would do this. Even to humans,” Nico said. Rin stopped himself before correcting his partner. Rin didn’t have the time to explain why he knew the elves worshipped a goddess. Nico was already too inquisitive about Rin’s past. The man absolutely refused to take the hints to leave well enough alone.

“If this wasn’t a demon ritual, then what was this?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Rin said. He held out his account of what the demon told him. “I need you to take this to the major. He’s going to need to get some scholars down here. Maybe they can figure out what happened.” Rin hoped they would find something that contradicted what his instincts were telling him.

“If I’m supposed to be taking this to the major, then where are you going?” Nico demanded.

“Fools Port, as fast as possible.” Rin climbed up on his horse.

“Fools Port? Are you insane? They’ll kill you as soon as they see your badge. Why under the Protector’s gaze would you go there?” Nico asked, perplexed.

“Only place in the Republic I can find a ship to take me to the elf lands fast enough to catch the bastard who did this,” Rin answered. He spurred his horse into a gallop as Nico’s jaw dropped. The medallion around Rin’s neck pulsed happily.

Chapter 2