THE PEACEKEEPER

     The relentless desert sun beat down on Anya’s weathered face, baking
her sweat into a salty crust. She squinted. The man that had been
following her rode nearer as she waited on him. He was young, maybe
just past his teens, in that white hat of the Paladin order. What does this bastard want?

     Anya, Peacekeeper of Amalitor, floated her hand toward one of the axes that
hung from her waist. Amalitor doesn’t need their kind. Too soft, too forgiving for
the lawlessness here. 

     As the young man drew closer, Anya’s lips pursed. Sweat stained his white
hat. He wasn’t wearing the weapons of a paladin, either. Good. She’d have had
to respect those bangers that spit lead.

     He stopped in front of her, panting. “I’ve been looking for you.”

     She shrugged.

     “You’re a peacekeeper. Anya?”

     “I am.” There was no need to deny it.

     “I’m Eldrin, Paladin apprentice. Your commander requested I take over this
duty.”

     Anya snorted. “Wyndil? I doubt that. He doesn’t care who does the job. Just
that it gets done.”

     Eldrin grimaced.“This is different. He knows—he wanted the church in
charge. So things didn’t go wrong.”

     The kid’s tiny sword poked from his waistband, like a toy you’d give a child.
“You’re not even a Paladin. Just a kid with a butter knife, strutting about the
desert.”

     Eldrin’s expression didn’t change except a faint blush on his cheeks.

“I assure you, Peacekeeper, I am legitimate. Thievery is just as much a
transgression against the church as it is against Amalitor.”

     “Good, but it happened here,” she snarled.

     “The church is everywhere.” He sighed. “And…. I know who holds the cattle
now. You don’t.”

     She frowned. She’d been tracking the rustlers, fifteen of them, but they had
double backed so many times. It would be easier to just find the cattle. If the
church’s information was good.

     “Yeah. Who?”

     Eldrin bit his lip. He didn’t seem to want to tell her. “A shepherd named
Malston has them.”

     Anya blanched. That name. She recovered her composure and smiled. The
smile felt cold on her face despite the heat. “Malston, huh? Finally, some news
that isn’t a waste of my time.”

     Eldrin’s brow furrowed. “Finally?”

     Anya’s smile faltered. “That doesn’t concern you,” she muttered, her voice
tight.
 

     “The information just said he has the cattle, not that he was—”
 

     “Shut your ass, apprentice. That snake’s the rustler. He deserves justice.”
 

     Eldrin raised an eyebrow. “He may. We won’t know until we get there.”
 

     Anya met his gaze. “Yes,” she said, her voice clipped. “Let’s see what the
old dog has to say. Do you know where is ranch is?”

      “I do. But this investigation is for the theft. Not a vendetta.”
 

     Anya smiled. Cattle thievery received the same punishment as murder. You
can only die once. Justice would be done today for all his transgressions. She
extended her hand to the apprentice. “I’ll follow your lead.”

     Eldrin wrinkled his brow and bit the inside of his lip but shook her hand.

     They rode to Malston’s small, ramshackle hut in silence. The desert

gave way to scrubby grassland. How many times had she

dreamed of riding to this distant outpost and taking her revenge? How
many times had she been persuaded not to, often by her own conflicted sense
of the law. He’d been found not guilty. But they were wrong.

     The two dismounted. Anya strode ahead of Eldrin, her hand hovering
near the hilt of her axe. After years of waiting, Malston will finally receive his
comeuppance.

      As they approached the hut, cattle bellowed somewhere in the

distance. A few sheep were corralled in front of the house. Strange he'd

have both sheep and cattle. They usually didn't get along. A young girl,

no older than ten, played in the dirt. She had the same fiery red hair

as Anya. Anya barely noticed her. Today’s not a day for child’s play. She

kicked open the door to the hut.

     A gruff-looking man with a weathered face and calloused hands emerged
from the back room, eyes widening.

     “Anya,” he stammered. “What brings you here?”

     Anya narrowed her eyes. “The stolen cattle,” she spat. “And justice.”

     Malston’s face paled. “Stolen cattle? I’ve stolen nothing.”

     Anya scoffed. “A liar and a murderer.”

      Anya lunged at Malston, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him
against the wall. The young girl, who must have followed them two into the
hut, screamed and ran at her. All small ferocity and anger.

      “Stop.” Eldrin rushed to intervene.

     Anya ignored him and the child, her face contorted with rage. But as she
raised her fist to hit Malston, the young girl, with surprising strength, grabbed
her arm. Malston shoved Anya, sending her stumbling.Malston leaped

after her, punching her in the stomach. Her wind left her lungs in a rush.

     “I never wanted this, dammit,” he said. His next blow hit her chin. Lights
blossomed around her. No, not like this. He can’t kill me, too.

     Anya rolled and drew her ax. This bastard didn’t deserve a fair fight. She
slammed the butt into Malston’s temple. He fell, and she raised her ax to end
it.

     Eldrin grabbed her arm, his firm grip unexpected. “No, this isn’t the way.”
 

     Anya ripped her arm free, her voice a low growl. “It’s my way.”
 

     Eldrin met her gaze, his voice steady. “This isn’t about justice. It’s about
revenge, and it won’t bring your father back.”

     Anya’s eyes widened for a moment, then hardened. “You know nothing
about it, boy,” she spat, pushing Eldrin aside.

     “I know you’re father died in the square. I know it was a fair fight.”

      Anya froze. “That’s what the liars said. My father wouldn’t lose.”
 

     Eldrin shook his head. “You weren’t there. You were off fighting the
Islanders in the War for Faerelm. Serving your City and Peer. You can’t know.”

     She couldn’t but she did. Her father had been murdered by the man that lay
on the ground in front of her. She might not know how, but she knew that to
her core.

     Anya scowled. “Since you know so much, did you know that this asshole,
after murdering my father, sold my sister into slavery. She was only two…”
 

     A tear threatened to fall. Anya wiped it away, and raised her ax again. “He
deserves death. Cattle thievery just his latest crime.”

     Eldrin tackled her. They wrestled, a tangled mess of limbs and dust. Anya
refused to be denied her victory. She head-butted the apprentice and his nose
ran with blood. She rose. Eldrin didn’t.

     Anya screamed, a primal sound of rage and victory. From behind, someone
grabbed her ax handle. She slammed her ax behind her hard, expecting to
catch Eldrin in the stomach and end his meddling. That’s all the church does,
meddle in things it can’t understand. Demand our love and loyalty and give us
nothing in return. Instead, there was a sickening crack of metal on bone. The
feisty child fell, the round imprint of Anya’s ax handle indented in her head.
She bounced off the ground but didn’t move.
 

     “Daughter,” Malston screamed.

      No, not another innocent. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want.

     Eldrin rushed to the girl’s side. He removed a bandage from his bag and held
it against her bleeding forehead.

     Anya turned back to Malston. “You. You caused this. You may have been
found innocent of my father’s murder, but you still receive justice. Cattle
thieving carries the same sentence.”

     “Wait,” Eldrin shouted. “You’re no more judge, jury, and executioner than I. Only
Paladins have that responsibility.”

     “So he can wiggle away again. I don’t think so.” Anya spat.

     “If you murder him, you’ll be judged.”

     The matter of fact way the apprentice said it made Anya pause. The threat
hung in the air. And it was indeed a threat. A very real one. “You don’t even
have bangers.”

     “They’re called dragons and you’re right, but the one I serve carries a dragon
on each hip. Do you want to die, Peacekeeper?” Eldrin stressed her title.

     She didn’t. “Fine.” She spoke to Malston lying at her feet. “Confess and I’ll
make this quick.”

     “No,” he rasped. “I stole nothing.”

     Anya scowled, her arms around her ax shaking. “Prove it.”

     “That’s not how this—” Eldrin began.

     Malston cut him off. “I’ve got a receipt for the cattle. It’s in the back.”

     Anya dropped her ax. No, the bastard is going to escape again. “Go get it.”

     Malston stood. “How is she?” he asked Eldrin.

     “Unconscious, but should be fine.”

     Malston bowed his head. “Thank you.” He shuffled back to the back room
and returned with a scrap of parchment. He handed it to Anya.

     Her eyes narrowed. She handed it to Eldrin. “Could be a forgery,” she said.
 

      “No, it’s got a scrivener stamp. This is legitimate. 'Sold by Ragnen.' Who’s
Ragnen?” Eldrin asked.

     “He rode from the west with about fifteen riders. Said they had birthed too
many this spring and needed to sell.”

      Anya had been tracking exactly that many rustlers. “Raiders from the Far
West. You knew, didn’t you? They didn’t own these cattle.”

     Malston shook his head. “I did not. The cattle were thirsty and scrawny.
They would have died if I didn’t buy them.”

     Eldrin nodded, apparently satisfied. “You’ll have to split them with the
rightful owner. That’s the church’s solution.”

     Malston nodded. “Fine.” He seemed happy to be alive.

     Eldrin turned to go, but Anya wasn’t finished. “There’s still the matter of
selling my sister into slavery. I heard what you did. I demand justice for that.”

     “That’s not a crime in Amalitor,” Eldrin said. “Would you rather him have
just let her die?”

     “Shut up, boy. This is a personal matter. I want justice in the square.” I
should have done this so long ago. Anya smiled. It’s
going to feel so good to spill his blood.

     Malston looked at the unconscious girl, then back at Anya. His shoulders
slumped. “I told that story. To keep you away. When your father died, she had no one
to raise her.”

     “So you sold her. How much did you get?” A hot blush crept up Anya's neck and her stomach twisted.

     “That was a lie. I kept her for you, but—”

    “But she was too much trouble?”

     Malston's smile seemed melancholy. “No, not at all. Before you got back, I
loved her as my own child.” He nodded at the unconscious girl. She’s… she’s
your sister,” Malston said, his voice thick with emotion.

     Anya’s hand froze, the axe falling slack in her grip. Her face contorted,
emotions battling: rage, disbelief, and an unfamiliar one, joy.

     “My sister?” she whispered.

     Malston nodded, tears welling up in his calloused eyes. “I took care of her
for you. But now she’s my daughter.”

     Anya slumped to the ground, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The
anger that had fueled her for so long was gone, replaced by a deep, hollow
ache.Eldrin gently pulled the axe from Anya’s grasp and placed it on the ground.
He knelt beside her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and offered one of his
church’s prayers. She let him, the words strangely comforting.

     Malston was not the villain she had constructed in her mind, but a man who,
in his own way, had carried the burden of protecting her family. Bile rose in
her throat. How could I have been so sure and so wrong?

     The weight of Eldrin’s prayer settled on Anya like a shroud. The man
kneeling before her was no longer the monster she envisioned. Perhaps the
claim of murder is only a figment of my rage, too. Perhaps, father just lost. Tears
filled her eyes. Yet, the embers of rage still smoldered within her, fueled by
years of a fabricated narrative. The thought of Kailyn, her own flesh and blood,
being raised by this man, the man who killed their father in the square, even
if it weren’t murder, was too much for her.

     The silence stretched out for what seemed forever. Any broke it, her voice
hoarse. “He may not be a murderer, but he stole my sister.”

     Eldrin’s brow furrowed. “He protected her, Anya. He raised her as his own.”

     “He took her from me,” Anya countered, her voice hardening.
“She needs a family,” Eldrin pleaded. “She needs you, but she also needs
him. You can’t just rip her away from the life she’s known.”

     “He did when he killed my father.”
 

      Kailyn still lay unconscious on the dusty floor. The young girl’s brow
furrowed, her face contorted in pain. Anya felt a pang of guilt, a flicker of doubt.
But the image of a two-year-old Kailyn, abandoned and alone, provided her
inspiration.

     “No,” Anya said, her voice firm. “She’s my sister. She belongs with me.”
Eldrin sighed. “So reason can’t prevail here? Then it must be law.”

     Malston rose to his feet, his shoulders squared in a desperate attempt to
appear strong. “She’s my daughter. You can’t take her away.”

     “The church says she’s not. Anya is next of kin. It is her duty to raise the
girl, not yours.” Eldrin seemed to believe his words held some kind of power.
Anya knew better. She eyed Malston. His face reddened and his hands
twitched. Don’t. But he did. He grabbed her ax still lying on the ground. She
pulled her second ax. So be it. He slashed at her as he rose, but he was old
and slow and she was already out of reach. She hacked into his throat. Blood
spurted high into the air and splattered onto Eldrin’s face and white hat. His
mouth gaped, like a fish trying to breathe air.

     “Will I be judged for that?” Anya asked, unworried.

     Eldrin shook his head. “No, he was the aggressor. I am witness. Oh no…”

     Kailyn stood, eyes wide.

     “Kailyn,” Anya whispered.

     Tears streamed down the girl’s face. She ran to Malston and cupped his
head in her lap as the last of his life blood spilled onto the shack floor. She
wouldn’t remember their father. The man was likely the only father she knew.
And he was dead. I had killed him and hurt her. Oh no.

     Kailyn screamed, a horrific scream of pain that sounded from the depths of
hell.

      Anya kneeled in the sand and extended her arms to comfort her sister.
“Kailyn, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that. Come here. It’s ok—”

     The child, in one fluid motion, grabbed the ax from her dead father’s hand
and sliced through Anya’s stomach. Intestines poured onto the sand. The
child never stopped screaming as she slashed Anya again and again. Eldrin
grabbed her from behind to stop the slaughter.

​

* * *
 

​

     Her screams haunted Eldrin’s dreams for years. Until they faded into the
cacophony of all the other screams.