[Ash] Upon a Pale Horse

Esplandia

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The roads north across the Salmon River Mountains had deteriorated over the winter. Now that the spring thaw had at last come it was the duty of the Peacekeepers to secure the roads and locate any damaged stretches for the states to repair.

This would be the first patrol that Angela Dreadfulwater would range out on. She’d been training with the Pecekeepers for the better part of the winter. Stuck in a cloister reading and training had certainly strained her mentally. Yet her instructor had at last informed the Rangers that she was ready for field duty.

The squadron rode north from Boomtown and made their way through the Gem Canyon towards the Payette Forest. The head ranger, Joshua Bridger, was a friendly man, just four years Angela’s senior. He was tall and handsome and she found herself admiring him whenever he rode near her. He had sandy blonde hair that he kept cut short, yet his neatly trimmed beard was strawberry blonde. And his blue eyes captivated her.

She did her best to hide her infatuation, though she could feel herself blush whenever he spoke to her. Her cheeks would burn and she’d get giggly at his compliments and encouragements.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” he said one evening after they’d made camp and he’d chosen her to go out hunting with him. She’d quickly spotted a pair of rabbits and downed them both in quick succession.

She felt the familiar heat in her face as she scooped up the rabbits and strung them over her shoulder.

“Pa taught me all about hunting,” she answered. Then felt disgusted with herself when a little giggle escaped her throat. She was a woman now and yet she found herself acting like a smitten schoolgirl.

Joshua however didn’t seem to notice. He just scanned the terrain. His hand resting casually on his hip. “It’s starting to get dark. Two jacks are good enough. Let’s head back to camp.”

The rest of the men were happy to see their hunt had been fruitful. Angela skinned and dressed the two jacks, before one of the other rangers added them to a pot and prepared stew.

It was a fine meal, even for a trail meal. Angela had rarely eaten so well, though the cloister meals had been better. Growing up on an indentured plantation she’d never eaten so well as she had since joining the Peacekeepers.

She drifted off to sleep, satisfied from the meal, and dreaming of the handsome Joshua Bridger. His blue eyes piercing deep into her soul.


Herschel Clay tasted blood in his mouth. He could smell smoke and feel the heat of the roaring fires around him. He tried to open his eyes but they were so swollen shut he could only manage a thin slit on his right eye.

Horizon was on fire. The town engulfed by flames. Around him the figures of the attackers moved about, gathering up the things they’d taken before torching the buildings. The ground was littered with the dead. People he’d known for his entire life, butchered in the streets.

He was sprawled out across a horse trough. His feet in the water and his arm dangling to the ground. He didn’t move, even if he could. He lay like that for a long time, barely conscious as the attackers finished up. They’d taken the town’s horses and livestock, their weapons and much of their food and medicine.

Now they had left. Herschel couldn’t remember when they’d gone. It seemed like he’d blinked and they disappeared. He must have passed out. He forced himself to look around. The fires were still going, but they were no longer blazing. They’d burned down as the buildings had.

He pulled himself over the edge of the trough and fell to the ground. He then passed out again. But this time not as long. Only a few minutes he guessed when he came to. His senses were coming back. He could now remember the attack. Being dragged out of his house and beaten. His brother had tried to protect him and been shot down.

He tried to sit up but couldn’t manage, instead he pushed himself over onto his side. His vision was now blurry, and he couldn’t see at all now. He realized he was crying. Tears were pouring out of his swollen eyelids. He managed to wipe them away clearing his vision. It was then that he saw more riders coming out of the smoke. Shadowy figures atop horseback. Had they come back? Were they here to finish him off? He closed his eyes, ready to face death as the riders approached.


Angela stared in horror at the carnage around her. Bodies of men, women, and children cut down and brutalized. The entire town burned down.

“Rangers, dismount!” Joshua ordered. Angela was the last to comply, still in shock. But she slid down off her mount and drew her rifle, her training.

“Spread out!” Joshua continued giving orders. She was amazed at the way he remained calm. “Stay frosty! Look for survivors!”

She complied, walking forward. She approached the body of a woman sprawled in the dirt, but moved away when she saw her skull had been split open in the back. All the bodies she approached were the same. They’d been viciously cut down, beaten, and butchered. Her stomach churned.

She felt a moment of rising panic as her breakfast rose in her throat. She hunched over, ready to puke.

“You alright, greeny?” asked one of the other Rangers. She remembered his name was Jackson. She breathed deeply and gave him a shaky thumbs up. “Good,” he said. “Puke afterwards.”

He moved off and she straightened up, once again moving about, checking the dead. She was passing a horse trough, the water colored red by blood, when the body laying next to it moved.

Startled, she trained her gun on the man. His face was badly beaten, yet one eye was opened enough for her to see a glint of consciousness.

“Help me, Peacekeeper,” he said so softy she barely heard it.

“Medic!” She screamed. “This one’s alive.”

She remembered her training, and knelt down next to him, checking to make sure he hadn’t been shot. His fingers seemed broken, and one of his legs was bent wrong.

The medic came over and took over. She got to her feet and stepped back out of the way.

Joshua came running over. He noticed the man was still conscious as the medic began to administer aid. He dropped to his knee, leaning over the man.

In a calm and reassuring voice Joshua told the man, “You’ll be alright.”

The man had started crying, tears coming out of his one open eye.

“Can you tell me who did this?” Joshua asked.

“I don’t know,” the man whispered. “They had...” He wheezed. “...crow heads...around their necks.”

Joshua smiles reassuringly at the man. “Thank you,” he said standing up. He waited as the medic continued to work, but it wasn’t long before he shook his head and stood up in disgust.

“Is he dead, John?”

John Mercer, the medic shook his head angrily. “Not yet. But he’s got a it of internal bleeding. It’s only a matter of time.”

Joshua stared at the dying man at their feet. “Give him something to ease his journey.”

John Mercer complied, and soon the man’s labored breathing eased. Angela wanted to cry, but she stiffened her back and pushed her feelings down. She’d deal with them later, as her instructor had taught her.

“What was that nonsense about crow heads?” John Mercer asked.

Joshua met his gaze, and then met Angela’s. “Listen, both of you. You’ll not repeat what that man said to anyone. You hear me. Not until we’re back to safe house. You understand?”

They both nodded in agreement. Joshua gave no further information, he just ordered them to carry on, as the rest of the town was searched.
 
The girl shivered in the cold, her worn coat barely keeping her warm, sad hungry eyes looking up as she held out her hand. Vladimir Ivanov felt a pang of pity for the child and dropped two five token bills into her hand.

“Thankee, sir.” She smiled in thanks.

He felt warm inside, the moment of pride at helping someone in need. He wished he could do more, but he didn’t have much as it was. He felt guilty because at least he had a warm bed for the night.

Before he left the urchin, he shrugged off his jacket and passed it to her as well. It’d be too big for her, but it would be warmer than the one she had.

She thanked him again and he just smiled and walked away. Better to leave now before he decided to do more than what he could afford.

There was a dampness in the air, a cold cloudy night that made him forget spring had actually arrived. Above him he could see the glow of electric lights marking the Dam’s location towering above the town. He shivered jacketless, thinking about the rich elites of the town living up there while people begged in the streets.

He wasn’t here to change the world. He’d merely been sent to inspect the dam, its power output, and report back on the structural integrity. He considered giving a bad report as his way of striking back at the rich cats, but knew that would accomplish nothing but staining his own name.

He would do his duty. He’d make sure the dam was safe and working at peak capacity and bring his report home.

He always marveled at the structures of the Old Americans. This dam had stood for so long, through apocalypse and into this new age. And, the mother willing, would stand into the next age. They elders had called it Dworshak, but the new inhabitants called it the Waterhold. A completely unimaginative name compared to the beauty of the ancient one.

He picked up his pace, feeling even colder in the shadow of the great structure, and climbed the steep streets to the lodging he’d procured for the night. The town was mostly built on the steep rocky hillside at the base of the dam, the buildings stacked on top of each other, creating a warren of narrow streets and alleyways.

He shouldn’t have been out so late but he’d been enjoying the local food, eating something called a Lumberjack burger. He had no idea what a Lumberjack was, but the burger had been incredible, and the town folk friendly and talkative.

He climbed a new street and headed down an alleyway overhung by a two story house. A man stepped out from the shadows and blocked his path.

“Vladimir Ivanov,” the man said, no hint of a question in his voice.

Vladimir didn’t like the sound of the man and turned around to make a hasty retreat, but two more men had come up behind him, blocking his exit.

“What is this?” Vladimir asked loudly, hoping someone would here his voice and investigate. Just in case this went south.

“You are the brother of Vice President Peter Ivanov.” Again it wasn’t a question.

Vladimir wasn’t going to be intimidated, if indeed this is what this was about. “Listen. I’m here to inspect the dam and I won’t be strong armed. Whatever you’re hiding I will find.”

“We don’t care about the dam,” the man said. “We have a message for your brother and the government in Atomic City.”

“And what’s that?” Even as the words left his lips he felt a sharp, deep pain in his side just between his ribs.. A hand covered his mouth from behind, stifling any scream he might have made. They removed whatever they’d stabbed him with, and then drove it into his side again. And again. And again. And again.

He lost the strength in his legs. He fell to the ground. The hand holding him let him fall. He tried crying for help but could only manage a wheezing noise. He realized he couldn’t breath, and as he tried his lungs burned. His vision was going black.

The men watched him as he died, taking in every attempt at breathe. Once he’d gone silent, the light of life leaving his terrified eyes, they stride away, leaving his body to lie on the cold ground.
 
“Our Mother, Primordia. Goddess of earth. Hallowed art thy name. Thy Creation divine. Thy love resplendent upon earth, as it is in heaven. Give our spirits and bodies Nourishment this day. Forgive us of our shortcomings, as we forgive those who transgress your nature. And let us not be lead into imbalance, but deliver us from Blight, the Shadowy Serpent. For thine is the majesty, and the power, and the grandeur, for eternity and forever. Amen.”

Lucy Tan repeated the last word, “Amen!”, hers and a few dozen more adherents voices echoing in the halls of the Papal Palace. As the echoes faded away she stood, motioning the shape of a cross with her finger over head forehead. A harp, somewhere in the gallery above, played a hymn.

She made here way towards the altar, straight up the main isle. The Priest who was overseeing the daily service saw her approach. He recognized her immediately and stepped down to greet her.

“Madam President, it’s an honor to have you here.” He held out his hand, palm down and fingers bent.

She bent forward and kissed his ring. “Thank you, father,” she said. “It was an inspiring sermon.”

He visibly flushed at the compliment. “It is strange to see you here in Juniper Valley. You have recently returned from across the Pacific? Do you seek cleansing?”

She nodded cordially. “Indeed. Her excellence told me that upon my return I was to seek her out.”

“So you seek a higher power than me,” he said, crestfallen. “I will humbly resign my duty to the Pope. The Mother be Praised!”

“The Mother be Praised!” Lucy repeated.

The priest stepped aside, his arms out penitently, and then turned and motioned a clergyman forward. He whispered something to the young man, who hurried off.

“I will inform her excellence of your arrival.”

“Thank you again, father.”

He kissed her cheeks and gave her his blessing, before returning to his place by the altar.

She didn’t have to wait long. Another clergymen, this time dressed in a plain smock, arrived to take her to the pope. She was lead from the cathedral, across the inner sanctum and papal gardens, into the Apostolic Tower beyond.

Pope Temperence III was waiting for her in a brightly lit Apartment which faced south towards a small grove of plum and cherry trees. The elder woman welcomed the president warmly, kissing both her cheeks before proffering her hand and her papal ring to be kissed.

After the formalities were past, she sent her attendees to fetch water. “Was your trip fruitful?”

Lucy hung her head. “It turned out not to be. At first I had struck a new trade deal with the Shogun, one that would have greatly benefited the Republic, and so I returned home. Yet before we even reached our shores we learned the Shogunate had collapsed and my journey was for naught.”

Temperance put her hand on the President’s cheek to comfort her disappointment. “Then it was the will of the Mother that we should not have dealings with these pagans.”

“As you say your excellence.”

The water was brought in, carried in an ornate porcelain basin, and then the Pope dismissed everyone, telling them to secure the doors on their way out. The two women were left alone.

Temperance motioned for Lucy to begin, and then she began praying over the water, blessing it.

Lucy stripped down, removing all her clothes, carefully draping them over a couch in the room. When the pope had finished praying she stepped into the basin. The water came up above her ankles. It was freezing.

The pope began to pray, reciting a litany, speaking of cleansing and renewal. Using a wash clothe she washed the President, cleaning her body of the uncleanliness she’d picked up on her voyage to a pagan land.

When she finished she said a short prayer, thanking the Mother for blessing the President with strength and wisdom. Lucy stepped from the tub and dried herself off with a towel. She then redressed herself, while the Pope carried the basin to the window and emptied it out into the grove below.

“You must not blame this outcome on yourself,” the Pope said as Lucy buttoned the last button on her blouse and grabbed up her jacket. “It was beyond your control, my child.”

“Thank you, your excellency.”

“This is a message from the Mother. If this was not meant to be, than something else of importance must need your attention. Be alert to what the Mother is trying to tell you.”

She spoke more with the Pope, but even after she left self doubt crept in. Though the failure of the trip had been beyond her control she still felt the weight of it. Perhaps the Pope was correct. She would consciously be on the lookout for any sign from the goddess.
 
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Lynn Carter scratched at his beard in furious irritation. Yet another crisis threatening to blow up what peace he’d managed to bring to the area. God forbid the Clearwater government help him put down this growing storm. And now the body of the vice-president had been brought in, apparently stabbed and left to bleed to death.

The last thing he needed was a bunch of Atomic City investigators stirring up more trouble in a tense situation between pro and anti indentured yahoos. He hoped he could find answers before that happened, bring his killer to justice without starting a civil war out here.

He crossed the outer courtyard, striding purposefully towards the stables where he would find a messenger. A few men were milling about inside, rubbing down horses, oiling leather harnesses and saddles, or just playing a hand of hold ‘em. They all snapped to attention as the Head Ranger stormed in.

He didn’t bother with ordering them at ease, but instead stepped up to his best rider, a man named Garth.

“I have a message that needs to be delivered to Atomic City,” he said, staring the young man down.

“For the Vice-President, sir?” Garth asked.

“I’ll prepare the proper papers to get you an audience. You’ll leave within the hour.”

“Yes, sir!” He snapped a salute and Carter returned it. He glanced sourly around the stable, lingering on the card game in progress. “As you were,” he ordered, and then stormed back out of the stables.

His day wasn’t going to get any better though. As he came out of the stables the doors of the stronghold were opened and a patrol came riding in. He heard the leader ask promptly “Where can I find the Head Ranger?”

He walked across the lawn, swearing under his breath as he did. “What can I do for you, Ranger?” he asked.

The man jumped down from his horse and strode purposefully to meet Carter. “Joshua Bridger, ninth Peacekeeper Division, reporting sir.” He saluted.

Carter returned the salute. “Report, Ranger.”

“I have reason to believe the Outriders are operating in this region.”

Carter quickly grabbed his shoulders. “Not another word. Let’s talk in my office.” He then ordered the rest of Joshua’s patrol to stable their steeds and get some chow.

The Head Rangers office was on an upper floor of what was once the monetary of St. Gertrude’s, until the Peacekeepers had appropriated it as their regional headquarters for the entirety of the southern GCR. Carter informed his secretary, a uniformed older man, that he was not to be disturbed. “And prepare the appropriate papers for an audience with the Vice-President. I need them in the next thirty minutes.”

Joshua took a seat across from the Head Ranger who sat down hard in his chair.

“You’d better not be mistaken about this.” Joshua reported what he’d seen and what the survivor had said. The Head Ranger listened intently to every word, stroking his chin the whole time.

“How many of your people heard this dying man’s words?”

“Just myself, Doc Mercer, and our sharpshooter Angela Dreadfulwater.” For a second Joshua had hesitated to report the girl’s name. He didn’t understand why he considered trying to protect her. It was an odd reaction. But his duty required he be honest and so he was.

“Good,” Carter said. “The less the better.” He stood and moved over to the window, stroking his beard as he stared outside. “What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this office.”

“Understood,” Joshua said.

“We are on the brink of war,” Carter spoke, a weariness in his voice. “This whole indentured servitude issue is going to heat up, and when it does there will be fighting. And when war does come, we’re gonna be caught right in the middle. But if the Outriders truly have returned it means they’re likely fanning those flames. Here are your orders: gather a task force, anyone you need and I’ll get them here for you, and ride out and find out where the Riders are based. You’ll have an open hand in this. Full support of this office. Any equipment or supplies you believe necessary are yours. Whatever it takes.”

Joshua stood up and saluted. “I won’t fail, sir.”

“I’m counting on you, Ranger.”
 
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He had his orders. As he left the Head Ranger’s office Joshua was already contemplating who he’d want on his team. He’d keep it small. Too many people and he’d likely spook these Outriders into hiding. He considered nine people, weighed the pros and the cons and cut it down to seven. Seven would be his lucky number.

He’d take Doc Mercer and Angela Dreadfulwater. They both already knew the riders were operating in the area. Mercer was also a Doctor, which was convenient. And Angela was proving to be a deadly shot. He could definitely find a use for a sharpshooter.

With him leading that made three. So that left four positions to fill.

Luckily for him, two of the people he was considering were stationed at St Gertrude’s already. They were seasoned rangers and he’d served with them in the past.

He had to ask where he might find them. The first one he found lounging in the shade of the south wall, hat over his face, snoring blissfully in the noon heat.

Joshua walked up and kicked the man’s boots hard, shocking him awake. “On your feet, soldier!” he barked.

The man shot up to attention, groggy with sleep. He effected a half decent salute. But once he noticed who it was the arm slumped to his side. “Shit, you startled me Bridger.”

“Luckily it was me, Saul. Anyone else would have your hide.”

Saul Hernandez grinned wickedly. “I wasn’t on duty anyway.”

They both hugged, a quick, manly hug, patting each other on the back hard. “I missed your singing,” Bridger said. “Rangings not the same without a good trail song.”

“At least someone appreciates my angelic voice. What’re you up this way for, anyhow?”

“I’ve got an important mission. I need some people I can trust. You interested?”

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s dangerous. And top secret to boot.”

Saul wrinkled his nose, deep in thought. “It’d be better then doing patrols up and down the Camas. I’m in.”

He shook Bridger’s hand, sealing the deal. “Now,” Joshua said. “You seen Molly around?”


Molly Burkhart wheeled her horse around, then kneed her mount into a full gallop. She dropped her lance into position, holding it rock steady. She bore down on her target, and with a satisfying clang, sent the little round piece of metal rotating on its pole. She road past whooping in victory as she brought her lance back up and slid it into its little leather holster next to her boot.

Joshua Bridger clapped loudly, thoroughly impressed with her horsemanship. Before joining the Peacekeepers, Molly has been a trick rider for the rodeo. Her ability to ride and shoot, hell to ride and do nearly everything else, was a skill that had set her apart from other recruits.

She took her riding helmet off and tossed it through the air to come down neatly on the top of one of the corral posts. She glanced at Bridger, but only for a second. She first dismounted, and then took off her gloves. She tied the horse up to the fence and scratched him on his nose, speaking words of encouragement. Once she was done she finally made her way over, slapping dust from her britches.

“If you say one word I’ll knock you off that fence, right on your ass.” Her attitude certainly hadn’t improved since he’d seen her last.

“One word about what?”

“About how I was just a little too low on that last pass and missed the center.”

“I honestly didn’t even notice,” he said. She glared at him, making sure he wasn’t joking and just waiting to laugh. But he was genuine and so she shrugged, a warming smile starting to appear. Still, he hopped down off the fence, planting his feet on solid ground. Just in case.

“How you doing, Josh?” she asked, sticking her gloves in her back pocket. “I heard they made you a Captain.”

“No, it’s still Lieutenant, but I command a whole squadron now.”

“Seems like a waste of your talents.”

He rubbed his boot back and forth in the dust. “They offered,” he confided. “But I turned it down.”

She seemed genuinely shocked. “Why’d you go and do that?”

“They only offered it to me because of my family name.”

“They told you that? They only wanted to promote you because of who your grandpappy was?”

“Not in so few words, but yes. They said any man would want to follow a man with the name of Bridger.”

She punched him hard in his shoulder. “You’re a damn fool toad, Josh.”

He laughed, a quick single syllable “Ha!” If he had had an older sister, he imagined she’d be like Molly. “Listen, I’m not just here to catch up. I’m on a special assignment and looking for volunteers. You interested?”

“What’s it entail?”

He took his hat off, placing it over his heart. “I can’t tell you unless you accept. It’s one of them type of assignments. But I ain’t lying when I tell you I really need you on this one.”

She snorted irritably at him. “You’re a damned fool. A damned fool!” She spit on the ground at her feet. “But so am I. You’ve gone and recruited me.”

That brought his number up to five. Just two more to go. And he had an idea about that. He’d need to take the Head Ranger up on his offer of anyone he wanted.

The Boys Are Back In Town —Thin Lizzy
 
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St Gertrude’s sits in the shadow of Cottonwood Butte which stands out above the Camas Prairie as a prominent landmark. Atop the butte the Peacekeepers had built a large watchtower at the summit, though mostly to keep an eye on the nearby roadways.

Joshua had been able to get both Saul Hernandez and Molly Burkhart assigned nightwatch duty, leaving the tower a perfect place for a secret meeting.

By now his last two recruits had arrived. He’d used Head Ranger Carter’s promise to get whoever he needed, and had gotten the last two transferred.

The first was a tracker, a young man named Khalil Johnson. He had ridden in from Bitterroot, and wasn’t very happy to be forcefully transferred.

The second was a much older man. He was in his late fifties, a rare age for a peacekeeper to reach and still be a Ranger. His name was Shinjiro Chiyoko, and was one of the closest things to a celebrity among peacekeepers. He was considered the fiercest ranger and a master of blades and pole arms.

When Angela Dreadfulwater entered the watchtower accompanied by Doc Mercer, she caught sight of Joshua Bridger in conversation with the two new men.

She didn’t recognize the first. He was a tall and wiry black man, and every time he spoke his head bobbed about and he had to push his glasses back up on his nose as they’d drift down with every movement.

But she recognized Shinjiro. Even among the plantations of the south his deeds were legendary. He sat atop a munitions crate, a katana resting comfortably in his lap. He didn’t speak at all but was obviously listening to the two men arguing nearby.

When Joshua saw the last two of his team arrive he cut the conversation off. “We’re all here so let’s head up.”

He held the meeting at the top of the watchtower. The sun had set, leaving a fading orange glow on the horizon. Here and there points of light dotted the prairie below where homesteads and hamlets were located.

“This mission has been deemed top secret,” Joshua began. “It’s to be shared with no one.” He left a pregnant pause as he made sure everyone was listening. Molly continued to look out the tower windows, performing her duty in spite of the intrigue. Yet she nodded at Joshua to let him know she was listening.

Angela smiled at him, and he gave her a shaky smile in response. Everyone else seemed interested, except for the tracker Khalil who just looked angry.

“Over the last few months a number of towns were raided and burned down. This was done mostly before the spring thaw and only recently have reports come in about this.

“However I and my men came across one of these attacks just after it happened. A survivor was able to describe the attackers before he died. He described them as wearing crow heads around their necks.”

There was some murmuring. Angela didn’t understand. She was still unsure of their significance. “What does that mean?” She asked.

“He thinks that it means Outriders,” snorted Khalil. “That these attacks were carried out by devil worshippers. Which is bullshit. It’s probably a bunch of rovers or escaped indentureds.”

The last comment got a rise out of her and she nearly spoke up, but Joshua chimed in first. “Whatever it is, we have to take this report at face value. Whether the Outriders are a folk myth or not, a number of towns were burnt down and their whole populations butchered. And we’re gonna stop whoever is doing this.”

He pulled a map of the Republic out of his pocket and unrolled it on a table in front of him. He pointed to a number of red X’s that he’d drawn on it.

“These are the settlements that were hit.” He pointed to the places he’d marked, tracing a curve across them. “By their location we can assume that the culprits are hereabouts...” he moved his finger to a central location from the marks “...in the Payette Wilderness. It’s rough terrain. Remote and hard to get into with a large force. Hence why our numbers are few.

“Our mission is to find these attackers and neutralize them. Command is worried about the possibility that they’re actually Outriders, thus the secrecy. Whatever the case, we’re Peacekeepers and this is our job.”
 
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Lucy Tan had received a flurry of letters from out east. She quickly sent her own dispatches out across the nation, knowing this could form into a perfect storm. And when her vice-president, Peter Alexander Ivanov, burst through her office door she wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

“Have you heard?” he bellowed. And she heard the pain and anger in his voice. He was after blood. “They’ve killed my brother. Those seditious traitors out west have murdered him.”

Lucy nodded to her secretary, who seemed flustered about Peter’s unannounced entrance, and he shut the door. “Sit down Peter,” she said as calmly as she could.

“Sit down? We need to raise the army. This is sedition!”

She could only empathize with the emotions he was going through. She had no siblings, but imagined the loss of one would be devastating to her as well. She’d want revenge. But his storming about her office and bellowing wasn’t acceptable.

“Sit down, Peter. Or I’ll call my guards up here and have you removed.”

The sternness in her voice set him aback. “I’m the Vice-President of the Grand Cascadian Republic,” he protested. And the façade of anger had now cracked and she saw the vulnerability, the loss and the pain behind it.

“Then sit down, and listen to me.” She softened her tone and he sat. tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. “He was my little brother. I was the one. I got him that job with the Ministry of Energy.”

She came around her desk and knelt down next to him, taking his hand in hers. “I promise you Peter, if the Clearwaterians are behind this, they’ll pay. But right now, we don’t know who did this, or why. Until we know more, we must maintain our calm.”

He shivered with emotion, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’ll hold you to that promise.” He whispered the words, but she knew he meant it.


It wasn’t long before she started to receive replies from the dispatches she’d sent out. But she never expected who would give her the information she needed would be. The message was short, telling her where to meet.

She went to a restaurant on the north side of Government Island, one usually frequented by the interns of the political leaders. She’d only been once. Tonight, it was empty, not a single diner but herself there. They gave her a seat looking out the window, but she sat strategically so she could watch the door.

It wasn’t long before another diner entered. A woman, dressed in a heavy fur coat and a fur hat pulled low. She was lead to the President’s table. She sat down, removing the fur hat. She was a stunningly lovely woman. Likely in her late twenties, with dark hair done into delicate curls.

“I’m surprised you’d risk meeting with me in person,” Lucy said coldly. “If anyone sees us together it could put us both at risk.”

The woman waved at the waiter, who brought over a bottle of the houses finest red wine. After her glass was filled she took a small sip, sighing contentedly after. “No one will disturb us, I’ve seen to that,” Karen Ridgeway, the head of the Atomic City Cabal said. “I’m here because I believe we can help each other out.”

“You said you knew who killed the vice-president’s brother.” Lucy poured herself a glass from the bottle and took a drink.

“Yes,” she pulled a packet from out of her coat. It was thick with papers. She placed it on the table. “There’s a new faction, if you can call them that, operating out of the mountains of Clearwater and New Idaho. They’ve been causing me some trouble.”

“And if I want this information, I’m going to have to get rid of them for you.”

“I’m giving you the information regardless. These people are bad news. Even the Revenant want nothing to do with them. They’ve got ties to the Iron Angels. But more than that are the rumors I’ve been hearing; about the things they’re doing up in those mountains.”

“Like what? What kind of things have you been hearing?”

She finished her drink and stood up, putting her fur hat back on. “About human sacrifices. Dark magic. Ritual cannibalism.” And then she walked away, leaving what she said hanging in the air. Lucy didn’t watch her leave, instead focusing on the packet that was still laying on the table. She finished her drink, then poured another one. It wasn’t until she had finished the bottle and squared up her tab that she picked it up and left.
 
Angela had always considered the mountains around her home to be tall, but now, seeing the towering oppressive colonnades around her, she realized they were nothing but foothills. Great towering stones, like pillars holding up the sky. The first few days she couldn’t help but marvel at their majesty, feeling small in their shadow. But as they climbed higher, she found herself feeling claustrophobic, as if the mountains were bearing down on her, ready to crush her at a moment’s notice.

They’d came across a great stone circle a week ago. The stones had been roughly hewn and carved with strange symbols, and figures of people being tortured and mutilated. In the center of the circle was a stack of bones and skulls. They’d been piled up in a great mound, taller than them sitting on horseback.

They didn’t tarry long, and rode off at a faster pace than they’d come riding up. Even when they camped for the night, miles farther on, they’d all slept uneasily. Joshua had ordered two guards at all times. Even he was uneasy.

The next morning they’d come across the ruins of an old rotting building. Its roof had long ago collapsed and rotted into dirt, but the concrete and steel walls, now crumbling, were still mostly intact. A rusty sign, overgrown in wild raspberries, but still surprisingly readable after such a long time told them the road they were following was ID-14, a pre-flash state route.

“I wish we could walk along the tops of the mountains,” she said to Joshua that night as they ate dinner. “I feel exposed down here, like someone could be up there watching us.”

Joshua looked up at the mountains. He couldn’t see them, but knew they were there because their presence blocked out the stars where they stood. He took a bite of bacon and beans, chewing thoughtfully. “They’re too steep,” he said. “Anyone up there wouldn’t be able to keep up with us for long. I’d say were as safe as anyone could be, down here.”

She wasn’t reassured about it, and stared up into the sky as she tried to fall asleep. Joshua pulled his own bedroll next to hers, and his presence, the sound of his breathing while he slept, comforted her.


Three pairs of eyes watched from up the hillside, seeing the flickering light of the invader’s campfire. Even from the distance they could see the guards, one sitting watch on a rock looking away down the river, the other walking around the camps perimeter.

The three watchers paid careful attention. They knew how many there were. How many horses they had. It would all be told to those who would watch this group tomorrow night, so they could verify the information was true. After that they’d return to the Barrow, and report to the Speaker.

At last, the lowlanders were sending a group out to investigate. Perhaps the time was coming, the one that was fortold. Perhaps the Great Old One would soon awaken. The three watchers remained throughout the night, silently watching, as the invaders slumbered below.
 
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