My first instinct was to reach for my gun. But, luckily, my brain was faster than my hand this time. He was the Grandmaster. Of *our* order. And in a church no less! I relaxed and cursed myself for a damned fool. Once everyone had filed out, save for those old biddies that will stand in the hallway and donkey jaw until sunrise (there is a couple of them in every church), Father Jager approached Dusty and embraced him. Dusty returned the gesture with more warmth than I'd ever seen him show.
Father Jager stepped back, "Dusty, you old devil! It's wonderful to see you again! Life been treating you well?"
Dusty nodded, "As well as can be expected. I am glad to find you whole, Master Jager."
Jager scoffed. "All this time and still formal as a hymnal." He turned to me and gave me a broad smile, extending his hand. "And you must be Dodger. It's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh. I'm Father Maximilian Jager." I took his hand, his grip was soft and gentle and we shook.
"Nice ta meet ya Padré." I said as our hands came apart. "I'm just gonna shoot straight with ya. You ain't exactly what I expected."
He laughed. It was a genuine, carefree laugh. "You expected a big brawny fellow? One toting guns the size of canyons and a knife like excalibur?" Then he cut his eyes at me in a knowing, sardonic fashion. "And certainly someone with a heartbeat."
If I could have blushed I would have. "Sorry, Padré." I muttered."Guess I made a bit of an aahahha..." I sputtered to a stop because I almost said ass in a church. The old priest laughed.
"Thank you for catching yourself." He said, leading us up to the base of the sanctuary. "I cannot tell you how many times I have had to give a good hard thump to some of these roustabouts for swearing in God's house. You are a very polite young man, Mr. Williams."
Dusty scoffed "Only when we have company." He muttered. "So do you need help or do you still got it?" The old Marshal asked.
"Long as I have my life." Returned the priest. He reached down and pulled up an iron bar that had been so cleverly concealed in the old boards at the base of the sanctuary that I don't think anyone would have found it if they had started looking for it when Rome was still kicking about. But as surprising as the bar itself was, the next thing made my blood run cold. I felt, physically felt, the drawing of this Creature's will. His eyes were glowing red coals in their sockets a deep shimmering red.
The dust of the floor rose about his feet and there was an aura of monstrous energy that seemed to pour off of him in a red wave. He pulled up on that Iron bar and a huge section of the floor came up. It was about 6 feet long and roughly 4 feet wide and the bottom of this opening was a piece of an inch thick plate steel. God and all the saints! The insanity of that strength! It was titanic! To cover the sound of this door, I guess it was hooked to the bell tower in some fashion because the bell began to roll. Once the door was open I could see stairs leading down. The priest motioned us down and we went quickly, with Jager bringing up the rear.
The priest pulled down the door and Dusty grabbed my hand. At first I didn't realize why. Then it clicked. We had to be standing in utter darkness. No light could pierce that entrance. The priest whistled through his teeth. "Shoowee. That it'll get the old ticker a-pumpin. " he said, grinning. The red of his eyes faded. "Just walk down and take the third door on the left." I did as I was told, guiding Dusty through the darkened hall. There was an entire complex down here! It was at least the size of the church, if not larger. And weapons hung on the wall everywhere as we walked. All sorts of things from bows and axes to swords, flintlocks and even things I was more familiar with such as rifles and pistols. Each of them had a plaque with a name and short paragraph under the weapon. Some had pictures and some didn't. There were hundreds or thousands. There reside so many remembrances that one could spend two years in those catacombs and never read them all.
"Welcome to the Hall of Stories." Father Jager intoned. His joviality seemed to have faded and his voice was reverent. "For 700 years, all the Rangers who have lived fought and died, are honored here. Their weapons are taken, what is left of their bodies is buried or burned according to their faith and a memorial is made for them here." We turned into the room at the end of one hall and the priest cast his hand out. Torches along the wall sprang to life, as if by magic. Which they had. The room we entered was now bright, a coal forge burned in the center of the room. "Now, do you know why you are here, Apprentice Williams?"
I shook my head. I had been awestruck by these austere and honored surroundings. This was home to the Rangers. Where this holy charge was given and kept alive. The center of protection for two worlds. You wouldn't really understand if you weren't one of us but to say I was impressed would be an understatement. So yea, I had to give myself a bit of a shake. "Huh, what? Uhh... sorry. No Padré I don't quite get it."
The Grandmaster shot Dusty a disappointed look, then smiled. "Bad Dusty, Bad Devil!" He said playfully. Dusty looked chastened and mumbled something about having more time. "Well, I shall explain." Jager said. "You have reached the end of your tenure as an apprentice among us. It is time that you be put through the Crucible."
I cocked my head. "What is the Crucible, Master?"
Jager nodded. "It is your last test. A final choosing if you will." He cleared his throat. "This will determine if you have what it takes to be one of us. If you succeed, you will be granted full access to our network. You will receive the gifts that are given us and you will be a Ranger in full." His voice turned suddenly grave. "But know this, if you fail, Dodger. You will die. Now is your only chance to cry off. No harm, no foul. Your memory of the hall will be removed and the rest altered but a little to remove the memory of Rangers from your mind. Dusty will be just an incubus Marshal and your teacher. You won't remember the other bits." He looked into my eye. "Now, choose."
I would like to tell you people that I didn't hesitate that I said I'd do it without a second thought. But, as you have probably guessed, I am only human and I balked. I could risk death in some mystery test or just forget. Now, forgetting may not seem appealing to you folks but let me tell you something when the barrell of this particular gun is against your head, crazy thoughts run across your brain. But... I really only had one choice. If I was going to find Sumter's gang, I needed these people. I needed their talent and I needed what they knew. Plus, deep down I knew that I was meant to keep the peace. My daddy was a sherriff, and his daddy. I was just going to keep a different kind of peace.
I looked into those ancient gray eyes, staring out of a too-young face. "I'm ready."
The father nodded, "Then let's begin. Look deep into the fire. See all of it. Feel its heat." I did as I was told staring deep into the fire of the forge. Its coals fluttered and danced their red flames flickering across the heated stones of the hearth. The priest threw a handful of powder into the forge. "Now... breathe." His voice was a soft command that I obeyed. I breathed in the smoke with long drawn breaths. It was a sweet smell and an intoxicating smell. I breathed as much of it as I could, drawing in great lungfuls of the stuff. I blacked out.
When I woke up from my nap, I thought about the strange dream I had just had. Dreams about monsters and all sorts of insanity. It was ridiculous. I got up off my bed and stretched to my fullest. It was a strange thing. I couldn't remember when I had fallen asleep. I had milked the cow that morning and fed the chickens while Deirdre had made breakfast. I'd been retired as a Marshal for ten years or more. I'd done enough by 30 that I figured I would let somebody else do the job, but I still wore my gun. Just some habits ya can't get rid of.
I walked outside. Deirdre sat in the porch swing. She was as beautiful as the day we had met, so long ago in Dodge City, of course she had a small streak of gray running through her lovely brown hair. *It was on the road to Little Rock* I shook my head. There it was again. That had been happening a lot lately. Little crazy thoughts popping up out of nowhere. I had learned to ignore them. I went and sat beside her and gave her a kiss. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing in a rough old shack like this?" I asked her and put my arm around her.
She snuggled into me. "Oh I fell for an old rogue Marshal and he trapped me here." I chuckled then nearly bust out laughing as she suddenly yelled across the yard. "Elisa Lorraine Williams! Don't you dare hit your brother with that stick or I'll tan your hide young lady!"
I looked over and sure enough, our youngest daughter was about to crack my oldest son, Dean, across the head with a hickory limb. She dropped it like it was on fire, her little blue eyes *How can you see her eyes at this distance? Think!* were all innocence. "I was only gonna bonk him real light-like. I'se Just funnin!"
"Don't you be bonkin nobody for no reason, ya little heathen now go play with your little ones." Deirdre snapped. Elisa lit out, heading toward the creek to play with little Jacob and Marla. "I swear they're gonna drive me stark raving mad."
"Awww, they're just being babies. If Dean gets whopped one good time, might teach him to keep his eye on his surroundings." I kissed the top of her head. "Never can be too vigilant."
She scoffed. "Vigilance from a fourteen year old. You expect a lot Jake Williams but once a Marshal always a Marshal, I guess. Leastwise you always think like one."
We passed a couple hours like that just sitting there. God it was wonderful. Then a cloud of dust rose in the distance. Oh, hell. It was the local deputy and he topped the hill like Satan was touching the horse. He pulled short in front of the house, his mount sliding to a stop.
"There's been another one Marshal!" Bill cried. Not even a hello. But I didn't need one. I knew exactly what he was talking about anyway. There had been a series of murders over the last few weeks in the city near where we had our place. Once every while, a body would turn up dead. I'd turned them away each time they had asked for my help *Coward*but this was the second body inside a week. The attacks were escalating. I saddled My old horse, Rosie. Just as I was about to mount up Deirdre came into the barn. Her face was sad and pleading.
She threw her arms around me. "Don't go, Jake. I'm begging you." She said. It was almost a whine.
"Darlin, I have to. I can't just let it go." I told her hugging her fiercely. "That's too many dead in too short a time. I've already let it go too long." I told her, stroking her hair. *Damn right you have, coward* I growled through my teeth. "I'm no coward." I told the voice in my head.
She leaned back and looked up at me, tears running down her cheeks. "I know you aren't but I will give you anything. Just please don't get involved in this! Please! You could get hurt! Think of the children!" She was begging now.
I pushed away from her and swung into the saddle. "I'll be careful." I told her. "But it's like you said. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger." Ranger? Where had that come from? "Marshal. I meant Marshal. I'll be back when the job is done. I rode out. I didn't stop to look at my kids. I knew if I did, that I wouldn't let myself go and somebody had to stop this.
I rode to town with the deputy and we went straight to the undertakers. A man was laid out on the table, ready to be prepared for burial. I walked around him and took a good look at the body. There were three wounds. All punched straight in through the chest and all the way out through the back. I shook my head.
"Looks like they're getting stabbed with some sort knife or somethin." Said the deputy then he sighed. "But you know more about this sort of thing than we around here do."
I scoffed. "Nope, don't know more. Just seen a bunch more dead men. Anyway, they aren't being stabbed. They're being shot."
The deputy shook his head. "Can't be. Somebody would have heard a gun go off. And the clap of iron ain't been heard at none of the places where the dead folks show up."
I gave him a look, "Ya know, Bill. Guns ain't the only thing that shoots." I pointed at one of the wounds on the dead man's back. " These are arrow marks. They was shot with a bow or crossbow. At fairly close range too. My money is on bow, for what it's worth. Three shots in a short period of time with no folks who saw it happen. Had to be a bow..." I stopped short. Something glittered in the wound. "Hey, hand me that pair of pliers over there." Bill did as I asked and put the pliers in my hand. I reached into the wound and pulled out the glittering piece.
"Is that gold?" Bill asked, shocked. "Who the hell shoots somebody with gold?"
"It's not gold Bill." I told him holding it up to the lamplight. "It's fools gold. Real gold ain't that scraggly. guess is they carved it into an arrowhead. Only question I have is why?"
*Because this man was a leprechaun. They can only be killed using pyrite* came the voice in my head. That was ridiculous. *check under his arm there will be a mark like a gold coin* I don't know why I listened to that voice. The notion was absolute lunacy but I looked anyway. Sure enough, a tattoo of some old coin, done in gold ink. What? Insanity. "Hey Bill, was this man a criminal or anything like that?"
Bill shook his head. "Name was Joe O'Brian. Was a coachman from Wells Fargo. Protected their money for damn near 7 years. Never had a problem and had fought off 10 attempted robberies. Always insisted on driving the bullion, whenever it needed to be carried. Just like all the other ones. Strangers every one of em, just folks passing through."
I looked up at him still holding the pyrite. "We got anybody else coming through? Oddballs like this?"
Bill scratched head underneath his old flop hat. "Only them gypsies what's outside of town."
I didn't go back home as much as 90% of me wanted to. If I did, I'd just pass this information off to somebody like Bill. I wouldn't pursue it and it wouldn't stop. I needed to finish this. I had a funny feeling that I needed to watch the gypsies. So, that night, I staked myself out a little piece away from their camp. I wasn't avoiding the traveling people. They were friendly enough folk but I didn't want anyone to know I was there. So I snuck close and made myself comfortable in a little ditch in the ground, out of the reach of their firelight. It had bushes and all kind of stuff for cover, made a Good place to hide. And so I waited and watched. I got into the ditch around 6 and waited for what felt like eternity but it was only about four hours. The fires had been allowed to burn low and the night was quiet.
I heard the crunching of feet and saw one of the traveling folk, a boy that didn't look any older than seventeen. being lead out into the woods by a woman. I couldn't make out details, just silhouettes caught in the light of the dying flames. I couldn't make out the details of the woman because I only got a glimpse as she disappeared into the little grove. At first I ignored it. Just two folks doing a little step dance in the dark but then I heard a sound like a dog that had been suddenly kicked or a rat being stomped. I was going to ignore it but that strange voice that sounded so much like mine shouted*Look toward where it came from you fuckin simpleton!* The yelp had come From the direction the couple had gone.
I crouch-ran into the thicket, my hand easing my well-worn revolver from its holster. I stopped dead and my blood glacial in my veins. The light showed a figure crouched on the ground, blood running through fingers that clutched a wound on his shoulder. He was more beast than man. His ears had become rounded and ratlike, as had his nose. A tail snaked out, skinny and pink on The ground behind him. But as eldritch as that damned thing seemed, it was cowering at the feet of the figure that stood before it.
"Please..." He begged, sniffling in terror. "I haven't done anything bad! I'm always careful... please."
"Shut up, monster! I'm doing the world a favor. I couldn't afford silver arrows but figured this would do for you." Said the figure that had turned my blood to ice water. In the shifting moonlight stood Deirdre, a knife in her hand. "You're going to hell, just like every other monster that comes through my town." She raised the knife and started forward. No, it wasn't a knife. It was a letter opener. My mother's silver letter opener. I stood frozen. Deirdre leapt forward and tried to bury the blade in his neck, but he flinched hard and she got his shoulder instead. Her hand covered his muzzle, cutting off his scream of pain. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had to do something... My body seemed to move on it's own. I broke cover and raised my gun. It was pointed at nothing.
"Drop the knife, Deirdre! Now!"
She ran forward and grabbed the rat boy by his hair, pulling his head up and exposing his neck. She was crying. "Damn you, Jake! Why did you stick your nose in this? You didn't have to!" She pressed the tip of the letter opener against the rat boys skin.
"Deirdre, please my heart. Drop the knife. I can't let you kill him in cold blood!" I adjusted my pistol by a hair, closer to them. I was fighting every ache in my heart to move the barrel by that tiny fraction. "Why?"
"Look at him, Jake!" She yelled shaking him and pressing the tip of the knife against his neck. "Can't you see he's a monster! He is dangerous!" She blinked "He was gonna take advantage of me right here in this thicket! You have to shoot him!" I blinked. Was that true? Was he going to hurt her? Maybe it was, I started to lower my gun.
My vision went blurry and it felt like somebody had slapped me in the jaw. *Don't believe it!* screamed that voice again. *she was leading him! Not the other way around! This was a bushwack!* I snarled. "Go away!"
"I will, Jake! I swear! Just shoot him and we can go home! We can sit with Elisa and Dean tonight, and keep teaching them to read. We can listen to Marla and Jacob argue over their toys!" She was weeping and pressing the knife further into the boys neck, blood began to well around the end of the silver blade. "Let's just end this and go home Jake!"
My children. My babies. I was aiming a gun at their mother... and I mean why? The thing she held was obviously a monster. Some sort of human rat. Rats weren't any good for anything except eating your food stores. I started to lower my gun again but my arm seemed to disobey. In fact it adjusted the sight even closer to the two of them.
*God damn you, Dodger!* that voice in my head snarled. *She can't do this! Five people are already dead and here she is threatening a boy that hasn't done any harm to anybody! You have to stop her!*
I was short of breath, my heart was hammering in my chest. He or it, was right. But it was Deirdre! My Deirdre! This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. No. Not this. I clamped my hands to the side of my head. I screamed and walked back and forth. I wanted to tear out my eyes so that I didn't have to see it. Why was God doing this? What had I done?
*God above. Look this isn't your fault, calm down. But this has to end! She has made her choice and if you don't act, right now, there will be a 6th body and that blood will be directly on your hands. Try to get her to come peacefully.*
"Please let him go." I begged her, whipping my gun up again. This time my hands moved on their own with the same ease they always had. My sight was directly aimed at the two of them. "Please. I can take you in and we can get this all settled quietly. I'll make sure you don't hang. Please, baby, put down the knife."
She shrieked at me. "I thought you loved me, Jake! Were our vows a lie?" Her knife dug in more, if it went any deeper it wouldn't matter if she dropped it cause blood would come pouring out soon.
"I do love you, with all of my soul but I can't let you hurt him! You've killed 5 people Deirdre!" My hands were shaking. "Please, drop the knife. Let's just talk about this."
"He will hurt our kids, Jake! They're monsters! They only want blood and death! I was saving the world!"
"From what? A randy teen who was just following a beautiful woman?" I cried out. "Now, drop the knife Deirdre, you are under arrest."
"NO!!" She screamed and drew her arm back to plunge the knife into the rat boy's throat. The thunder of my gun and the spray of Deirdre's blood was quickly followed by my own screams of misery. It was a scream that tore my throat, made my neck hurt and it was primal misery. I pushed myself up and back away from the forge that was suddenly in my vision. I'd killed Deirdre! Oh God, no! Please no! I began wailing and tearing at my eyes. I wanted the image behind my eyelids gone! A world without her was a world unworthy of seeing.
Then arms like steel bands wrapped themselves around me, and I heard a voice. The voice was a man's, soft ancient and commanding. "You did well, Dodger." The voice told me. Then I felt myself knocked to the floor, my arms pinned under me. The pressure that had been on them, suddenly shifted to my neck. Breath was a thing of the past. That voice spoke again, calming and gentle like he was dealing with a spooked horse. "Sleep now, and all will be well upon your waking. It's ok. Shhhhhh... just sleep." My vision first went hazy then grey then I knew no more except the blissful denial of unconsciousness.