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His king has commanded a quest. See the beauties, horrors, and wonders of the land. Camriddeon will travel far in the name of peace, and in the name of progress.

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The Crying Rider

“What’s your name, son?”

“…Carson.”

“You’re crying. Why is that?”

“I killed someone…”

“So here’s how I got here…” Carson smiled, and took a sip of his drink. “I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I’ve got just about nothing on me. Horse is gone, my sword and knife gone. I’m happy I woke up to find I still had the clothes on my back!”

He chuckled. That had been a cold night. Sitting out under the stars, trying to figure out if his coat was best served as a blanket or a pillow. Shivering made him choose the blanket, and his neck in the morning wished he had a pillow.

Carson ran a hand through his thick mane. Yup, there was the dirt he had built up. Dirt, muck, dust, everything found its way into his hair on the long walk.

The bar itself was just a few steps above quiet. Filled with elves, dwarves, and gnomes just as much as with humans, everyone was looking at Carson sideways. Not trying to challenge him, but get a measure. See how dangerous he was before making a move.

That was all right, he’d been in this mood before. Keep going with the story.

“Now, I’m used to danger. You Ride with Harsk, you expect the unnatural to just show up. But I’m not seeing anything! There were no monsters, no bandits, no beings of unspeakable evil waiting to destroy the world. Barely a bush with enough scrag to start something that, if it really applied itself, would one day become a real fire.”

Cold. It had been constantly cold. He had his coat, and his fire. He had his knife, and then finally started to get some shut eye.

He knew which way to go. Harsk had always told them where to go if something went wrong and everyone was truly separated: North. Find the Great Lakes, and on the southern banks there will be a city known as the Last Peace. That’s where everyone else would be heading, so that’s where he would be too.

“I got me some shut eye, and I kid you not, when I woke up, there was a snake the size of a damn creek, just sleeping beside me.”

“Get out!” One of the bargoers said. The dwarf stared, wide-eyed and confused.

Carson held up his hand. “On my own honor. It must have been cold too, and the best thing it could find was my fire.

“Now, you wake up to find scales in your bed, no offense to those present who may have them, but us humans just want to start screaming. I wanted to, but it looked just so peaceful, laying there. As wide as a horse, and longer than I could see, but the damn snake was so cute. Just laying there, purring.”

“Purring?” An elf in overalls spat. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

“It was a…a rattle, right down in its gullet,” Carson laughed. “The brute finally looked up at me. Shook the sleep out of its eyes, and had to blink a few times just to get a really good look.”

His hands shook. The ice in his drink rattled against the glass. “I was staring in the face of a predator. It could swallow me whole without a tickle on its teeth. I could be lost within its coils. I stood there, fully awake, as it decided whether or not I was worth enough effort for breakfast.”

He sighed, and took a drink. And another. The corner of his mouth twitched as he finished the drink. He tried not to smile as he poured himself another. This was the best part. The waiting.

An entire saloon was starting at him openmouthed. Cards were put up, the music stopped playing. Nobody was doing anything. They just stared in wonderment, trying to find the next answer. But they were too scared to ask.

It was a pregnant pause. Long enough for Carson to finish the second drink, and even start pouring the third before someone mustered up the courage to say. “What happened next?”

Carson slowly turned in his seat. Looked the woman hard in the eye, almost daring her to repeat the question. “What happened next? What happened when one of Harsk’s own Riders faced down a monster from the bowels of the earth?

“I’m one of the most dangerous men to ever walk this planet. Demons run in fear of me, whole armies quake in fear at the sound of my name. What do you think happened?”

A gasp resounded. Carson grinned, and downed the drink.

“The snake gave me a lift into town. Was the least it could do for the hot bed.”

They stared for a while, not entirely comprehending. Carson nodded. “I mean, it was a bumpy ride, but come on, are you going to pass up a free ride?”

“With a giant snake?”

“I’m a Rider,” Carson said. “Why do you think I joined up with Harsk?”

When nobody answered, he laughed. “A free horse.”

That broke everyone. They burst into laughter. The dwarf howled, while many of the elf farmers could barely contain their mirth.

Carson leaned back, content. These farmers and small-towners took a while to get going. He was used to not being trusted, but they had been almost stone-like. Some had looked like they wanted to hang him on the spot.

But this was what he was good at. He knew how to talk. Might not be the best fighter, certainly wasn’t Harsk’s favorite. But when they were meeting up with good people, scared out of their wits, that’s when he came in. putting people at ease, and helping everyone walk away safe.

“Bullcrap.”

Carson frowned, and looked around. He knew that voice.

A man stood in the doorway to the bar. A man’s man, a handsome, tanned face over a burly physique. His button-down shirt stretched over his frame, and the shrugged-on jacket would have engulfed Carson and a well-endowed date.

He was also wearing a gold star over his left breast.

“Terrance?” Carson said.

The Rider smiled. “Bullcrap. Or maybe snakecrap on this one.” He laughed, and clapped Carson on the back. “It’s good to see you!”

He spun Carson around, and stood him up. “Everyone, listen up! This here is the first Rider, ladies and gents. Harsk’s voice, the one person that can make all of us gruff bastards sound presentable. The silk glove, the pretty hand.”

Terrance hugged Carson close. “It’s thanks to you we’re even let in places, pretty boy. And you survived, and made it up here!

“A toast!” He bellowed. The bartender jumped up, and grabbed a bottle. He started to pour drinks for everyone, and everyone scrambled to pick up the drinks.

“To Carson. To Harsk! To the greatest group of heroes this world has ever seen, the Riders! May they always be welcome, may their word never be broken, and may they always work for justice.” Terrance slammed down the drink. Carson quickly followed suit, as did the rest of the bar. A cheer rose up, and Terrance was the loudest.

Carson smiled, enjoying the praise quietly. Terrance smacked his lips, gave a laugh for good measure, and nodded. “Thanks, folks. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to take our man of the hour and enjoy some good old talk.” Terrance led Carson to a table near the back, taking a bottle with them. Terrance sat with his back to the wall, and smiled.

“I haven’t paid…” Carson began, and Terrance waved him off. “Please, don’t worry about it. I’ve got a tab with the bartender. Come on, sit down. Let me bend your ear a while.”

“You don’t have anywhere you have to be?” Carson asked.

“Hmmm?”

Carson pointed at the badge.

“Oh! No, not yet anyways. I’ve got some time.”

“Time.” Carson laughed, and looked at Terrance. “Time as a sheriff. When did this happen?”

“Believe it or not, just a month ago.” The big man propped his feet up on the table, and let out a big sigh. “I rolled into this podunk town, thinking I’d just find some food and water on my way North, and what happens, but I walk in on the sheriff’s funeral.”

Carson winced.

“Mmhmm. Got a deadly case of being shanked in the back. Old, dull blade too. No witnesses, and no one was talking. Shouldn’t be my business, but the townsfolk were terrified. And when a real Rider comes into town…well, can you blame me for helping out?”

“Not at all, not at all.” Carson kept his voice quiet, small. Tried to keep himself innocuous.

Everyone forgot that the Riders were still people. Heck, the Riders often forgot themselves. Harsk was so demanding as a boss, so dedicated to the cause, that the Riders often saw themselves less as men and more extensions of his will. It made things easier, but now that the reins weren’t being pulled, their selves were coming back.

Carson remembered that Terrance was big. Big hearted, big mouthed, with a temper that burst as big as the sky.

“Hey, now, come on.” Terrance tapped a glass as he filled it. “Don’t make me drink alone. Looks bad, and you’re all about appearances.”

Carson let that go, and took the drink. Alcohol was starting to get to him, and he could already feel a slurring in his thoughts.

“You, made it out all right?” Carson asked.

Terrance frowned. “You mean out of that place? Carzic’s?”

Carson nodded. The big Rider nodded.

“Six men had me bound and gagged. Dragged me, I don’t know how many miles. Took more than a day and a night. All I could hear was the pitter patter of hoofbeats, and nothing else. No whispers, no chanting. I could barely hear them breathe.

“Finally they stopped. I heard a squeal, and then another. I’m thrown from my horse, and then it screams too. Can’t understand it. Screams all around me, I’m tearing at my hood trying to get free. Stop the screaming, please stop the screaming! And then, it did. Six more thumps, and silence.”

Terrance downed his drink. “When I finally get the hood off, every last one of them cultists have a knife plunged into their own hearts. Bastards killed themselves, and died with smiles on their faces.” He looked up at Carson. “That happen with you?”

Carson nodded. The eyes still stared back at him. Wide-eyed, delirious with laughter. They were happy. They had fulfilled Carzic’s orders to the last. There was nothing left for them in this life.

Terrance laughed. “Idiots. Could have taken all of us out in a single blow, and then piss it all away through some cult suicide.” He spat. “The world’s better for losing their stupidity.”

“There’s something to be said…”

“Hang on a tick,” Terrance said. He stood up, and looked out. “Nevix!”

An elf turned, confused. “Sheriff Terrance?”

“Just sheriff’ll do Nev.” Terrance stood in the center of the room. “I’d have a word.”

Carson turned around. Nevix was tall, lanky. One of his pointed ears was missing a patch. His face was ruddy with drink, and wobbled, supported by two elves behind him.

The bar grew quiet again. A few started to slip away. “Where’s everyone going?” Terrance asked. “Just talking with a rancher.”

“About what, sheriff?” Nevix asked.

“Well, lots of things, really.” Terrance scratched his neck. “See, I just started working here, no clue as to which way’s up and what’s down. And this town…well, it just makes no sense. Mysterious, you know? All this cosmopolitan lovey dovey stuff.

“So many humans and dwarves, living ‘mongst you elf blighters. I mean, how can two races that love iron so much live next to those tree-huggers that can’t stand the stuff? But then again, you were here for centuries, truth be told. That’s what I hear, anyways. You elves built this town.

“Then gold was discovered, and all the humans and dwarves moved in, trying to get rich. Started pushing, getting uppity. Don’t want elves in a mining town, now, do they? The fact that you were here first didn’t seem to matter much to the old sheriff. One way or another, we humans and them dwarves were moving in. What’s mysterious is that there hasn’t been a big ole fight yet.”

Terrance shook his head. “It bugged me. Bugged me for weeks. Everyone’s talking nice, everyone gets all congenial like. But there was a dead sheriff, and nobody knows nothing. Just a friendly talking-to the old Sheriff bastard give to you over at your ranch, night he died.

“So I checked on over there tonight.”

Nevix ran at Terrance. The man stepped forward, and slammed a boot in the elf’s gut. He flew backwards, cracking his head against the bar.

“All those weapons, stockpiling. And those plans. Bringing elves through the river lands. For what? To take over from the humans? Establish a nice little elf-only abode?”

Nevix spat. “We weren’t trying to take over. Most of you were good. But the Sheriff and his boys were trying to run us out. Not happening. Not ever.”

The elf stood up, and glared at the room. “It was ours first, human. You killed our forests. Tried to take it. We’re just taking it back.”

Terrance grabbed the elf by the throat, and shook. “Not while I’m sheriff.”

Terrance slammed the elf’s head against the wood. And again. There was a sickening crack, wet. Nevix groaned. Terrance kept throwing the body into the wood until it stopped shaking.

Terrance sighed, and stood up. He leaned over, and picked a rag out from behind the bar. “Listen up, elves. I’m only going to say this once.”

He wiped his hands clean. “You can hate humans. You can hate dwarves. You can curse my name every day of the week and hope I develop pox on Sunday. Long as it ain’t a spell, don’t hurt me none.”

He tossed the rag towards the two elves. “But if you want to start anything, remember this. You’re not dealing with some dumb Sheriff. You’ve got yourselves a Rider to wrangle with. And I came to play.”

Terrance walked out the door. “Come on, Carson.”

Carson winced. Eyes turned towards him, and he could feel their hatred. The rage, all directed straight at him. Their gaze seemed to sear into him, trying to glimpse the true depths of evil lying in his soul.

He got up, and walked over to the body. Terrance gave a loud sigh. “We don’t have time for this.”

Carson ignored the other Rider. He knelt down, and laid a hand over the body.

“Great Hermes, the Guide, the Merciful…” He mumbled. “Guide this spirit through the Underworld, that he may find peace in Elysium…”

“Carson!”

“Hades, give him swift entrance to a just ending. Artemis, look over one of your chosen few, the rest of his life after. Demeter, give his crops and his descendants good health and prosperity…”

“And Hera a good marriage for them, and Aphrodite make them hot and…”

“Shut up, Terrance.”

The second Rider stared, open-mouthed and furious. He could barely contain his rage as Carson stood up. Carson bowed to the other two elves.

“If it please you, I would aid in any burial of the remains. I cannot imagine what you are going through. Please accept my apologies, and one day find it in your heart to forgive us.”

Carson marched out the door before anyone could respond.

“Carson! Carson, you damned idiot, wait up!”

Terrance grabbed Carson’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare do that to me ever again.”

“Do what?” Carson asked.

“Embarrass me. Make me look weak in front of the town.” Terrance’s eyes narrowed. “Challenging my authority.”

“Authority.” Carson turned up the collar of his coat. “I’m sorry I challenged your authority to carry out murder in a bar.”

“It was an execution,” Terrance muttered. “Carried out on a confessed killer.”

Carson breathed slowly. “It was a butchering. Senseless, cruel, and designed only to intimidate.”

Terrance could only stare for a while. Then he laughed, a low rumble in the back of his throat.

“Right. I forgot. I’m talking with the pansy. The wuss. The crier.”

Carson turned back, shocked.

“Oh, you thought that story wouldn’t get out?” Terrance shook his head. “How Harsk found you? The great leader of the Ride, chasing down the rumor of a demon summoned to earth. Rolling into town to see that he came too late. Only you left. Standing over a demon’s body, crying like someone took your favorite toy. You had just avenged your mother’s death, and gave the son of a bitch as much as you got. And bawled.

“What kind of pussy does that?”

“Come back!” Harsk shouted.

It all came back to Carson. The wet night, rain hanging on the bloody corpses. The fresh water smell mixed in with the iron bite, and the salt in his eyes. He had stormed away from the legendary Rider, ran even.

“You don’t understand,” Carson said. Tears ran down his face as he ran. “I’ve killed someone!”

“A demon, boy!” Harsk said. “The thing had it coming.”

“But I killed it!” Carson screamed. “I stabbed it, and kept stabbing until it wouldn’t move, and then I set it on fire!”

“You did the right thing.”

“Stop saying that!” Carson wailed. He stood there, and cried at the sky. Cried for his mother, who he had fought with the night before her heart was ripped out. Cried for the townsfolk who died trying to save themselves.

Cried for the demon, that had had to die. And cried for himself for having done evil, even when he tried to pretend it was good.

He was only fourteen.

“Now listen up, wimp.”

Terrance pushed Carson to the ground. Carson gasped for breath.

“Let me talk this time. I’m going to do my job in this town. I’ll clean it up, bring the order that Harsk always envisioned. And unlike you, I’m not going to puss out and be afraid to get my hands dirty.

“While you.” Terrance scooped up some dirt, and rolled it through Carson’s face. “Are going to go to bed. At the hotel, for free, since I’m such a nice guy. Then you’re going to wake up, pick out your favorite horse in the stables, and ride away. And we are never going to see each other, ever again.”

The Rider slammed his fist into Carson’s throat. “Because if I ever hear that voice trying to speak for me again, someone’s going to get hurt. Understand?”

Carson nodded. He waited until Terrance left before spitting out the blood. He staggered to his feet, looked down the one street in town, found the hotel sign, and started walking.

People talking. People always talked, and most often about the stories that hurt the most. This must have been one of those tales that was whispered about, but that everyone knew.

He walked into the hotel. Mentioning Terrance’s name got him a free room, and even a bath. True to his word, that Terrance. And on the ground floor of a two-story building, that was a bonus.

Carson walked in to the bath. Shed his clothes, washed them, and set them in front of the fireplace to dry before he got in himself. He sank in to the water, and groaned in appreciation. There was a growing warmth, settling into his bones. Someone must have sprung for a heating spell.

This bath, the chance to just soak and remove some of the grime from the road, might just make it all worth it. Carson didn’t leave the tub for a good half an hour, not until his clothes had stopped steaming.

Slipping into warm clothes, settling on a bed that was five glorious steps above stone, and just sitting there. Thinking.

Carson never looked like he thought through every word spoken. It came so fast, and so easily, people always concluded that he just flew off the cuff.

They never thought that he considered every situation, and what had to be said for every reaction that Harsk and the Ride might come across. A different response for anger than sadness, whether the rage needed to be turned rather than quelled, or even outright challenged in turn. Placating when need be, while never compromising Harsk’s ideals.

A lot of thought went through Carson’s head. So he was used to the considerations as he turned it towards Terrance, and the town.

In one way, the Rider was really just applying Harsk’s philosophy on a wider scale. There’s evil in the world: remove it, and in such a manner that evil will think twice about rising again. Neither Harsk nor Terrance considered prison sentences to have any merit. And Riders never seemed to practice much mercy.

Just Carson. Just the pansy of the group.

The night was growing longer. Carson decided to go for a walk. Well past midnight, he found himself walking alone. Pocketed a key from the hotel, and just kept on down the street.

For others, with no lanterns, and the light from the bar the only source piercing the darkness, they might have felt fear. And for the pansy of the group, the one who cried, he must have been shaking in his boots.

But no one understood Carson.

He slipped in to the sheriff’s office without a sound. His footsteps barely scratched against the floorboards as he searched the main room. Found a new knife, but not what he was looking for. Not in the toilet, either.

He found his quarry in the back. Terrance was asleep in one of the empty jail cells, a bottle of tequila still in his hand.

Carson’ mouth twitched. He felt the tears rising up again. He fought back a sob, and slid the knife into Terrance’s heart.

The Rider’s eyes snapped open. Carson slapped his hand over the man’s mouth. There was a moment of struggle, but this wasn’t the first time Carson had killed a man. He knew what to do.

It was only until Terrance slumped over, and his pulse died, that Carson sat next to him on the bed, and cried.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I didn’t want to do it. But you were hurting people. And I made a promise to Harsk.”

He closed Terrance’s eyes. “Everyone knows the first part. How I ran away. That I was too much of a coward to face what I had done. That’s all true. But Harsk tracked me down later, just as I was leaving town.”

“You need to join the Ride.”

“Like Hell.” Carson hitched up the farm animal. He had a wagon loaded with as many valuables as he could loot…picked from the rest of the town. Nobody was alive but him, he figured they were his own.

“You’ve seen the face of evil,” Harsk said. “Felt it on your breath. And you stood strong, didn’t break.”

“I broke,” Carson said. “Broke hard enough to kill.”

“Then I need that brokenness.” Harsk sighed, and scratched his head. “Look, you can’t ever go back to normal. That part of your life is gone. But you can help us, and help the world.”

“Why?” Carson asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to…”

“No,” Carson said. “Why do you want me? The boy who cried, the boy who ran? You’ve got tougher men, stronger men. Men who can fight without crying.”

“Which is why I need someone like you.” Harsk said. “I need someone who can look at evil, and do what needs to be done without dying inside. To know what it means to feel.”

“Your Riders need that?”

Harsk laid a hand on Carson’s head. He smiled. “I need that.”

Terrance was true to his word. The room had been paid for. And there was a horse waiting for him in the stables when he walked over the next morning. It wasn’t until he was on his way out of town that whispers had started up about what might have happened last night.

Carson felt a twinge of regret. There might be more race baiting. And when they sent for a sheriff, they’d have to take a side in the growing conflict. There was going to be more bloodshed.

He didn’t cry for the future souls. He had spent his tears on the present, and the past. Let the future sort itself out when it arrives. He’d cry then.

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