I snapped upright, breathing hard and heavy. A pale hand laid itself on my chest. "Easy, Ranger. You are ok." Said Jager. "Everything is well and all manner of things are well. You passed. Your loved one is alive and well."
"She can't be! I blew a hole in her head! Oh God! Why?!" I screamed. I could still feel the buck of the gun in my hand. I could remember seeing the trees behind her through the hole in her skull. I started to weep. "What have I done..."
The Grandmaster pulled me into an embrace. "No, no my son. It wasn't real. None of it was real. That was only an illusion created by the Crucible. Do you remember?"
My heart slowed and logic seemed to come back. I wasn't in my 40's. I looked down at my hands. "But... how? It felt so real. Why?"
Father Jager shrugged. "It was a thing invented by an alchemist long ago. The origins of it are lost to time. Tribal communities have used ot for centuries as a trial of manhood. We modified it for iour use. It is used to determine your willingness to do right, even at great personal cost. You did well." He smiled at me, "So tell me do you feel different?"
I looked myself over. The first thing I noticed was the gnawing thirst. I said something about it and the Grandmaster handed me a bottle. I downed it and nearly gagged. Damn incubus blood! God above! "Ugh! That was awful. Dusty, I guess?"
Jager shook his head. "Believe it or not we have another young Ranger in the hall who was willing to make a donation to the two of us. I like the taste of succubus myself. It is quite refreshing. A bit like red wine."
I screwed up my eyebrows. "Red wine? It tastes like all the fruit in the world covered in sugar then molasses and mashed up with ice cream. It's way too sweet."
He scoffed. "Pfah! You're crazy." He chuckled then leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. He gazed at me over them. "But, food preferences aside, how do you feel?"
I thought about it then. I felt good. Strangely good. My body felt stronger. I looked down at myself and blinked. I had always had a toned physique but now I looked like my muscles could cut diamonds. And there was something else, a nagging sensation to head in one of the four directions. A feeling that I needed to do something or had forgotten to go get something. "I feel strange. Like I have some goal but I don't know what it is. Like I need to ride toward something. Hard and fast."
The priest nodded. "That is the sensing. It will lead you in the direction of spots where evil is being done. The closer you get the stronger it will become. It can't pick evil out of a crowd unless that evil is strong enough to stand out. Even mortals will be shaky around something that strong. This is just one of the gifts you have been granted." He shrugged. "The exact nature of how talents is given is unknown and varies from Ranger to Ranger. They aren't incredible in most cases. Sometimes it's as simple as not getting lost or as complex as being able to weave minor magics." He grinned. "But I have never seen your gift before and I have been a Ranger since close to the beginning of our order. The gift of tenacity." I opened my mouth to ask what that meant but he held up a hand. "Don't bother asking. I have no idea. As I've said, it's new to me too. We will just have to see. Now, I believe Dusty is upstairs waiting to give you his goodbyes."
I'd been kicked by a mule. "Goodbye? What? Why?" I didn't know what to think. Dusty had been my constant companion and teacher for most of my life, at least where it really counted. Shooting, writing, reading, music, hunting, math... all of it could be laid at his feet. And now he was just going to leave? I was actually kind of hurt. But then the father spoke up and my hurt faded to a dull ache.
"Of course." He said simply. "Your time as an apprentice is over. You must ride forth on your own. Having more than one Ranger travel together for any length of time is a danger for us." He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his slender frame. He placed his hands together behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. "We are few in number as it stands. We are growing, slowly of course, but even so our numbers aren't sufficient. If a large group of us were caught in ambush it would deal a devastating blow to our order."
I nodded. I didn't like it, not one whit, but it made sense. Dusty had to go. He had to find another to teach. He had to train someone else to do what we do and honestly, I don't think there has been a man to do the job better before or since. Not even me. "When does he leave?" I asked.
The Grandmaster stood. "He is making ready as we speak. If you wish to speak to him I suggest you go now."
I nodded and sprang to my feet. It was only then that I noticed that I was still in my clothes and boots, the only thing missing was my boot knife and my gun belts. "How long was I out?" I asked patting myself over.
"About 2 hours I'd guess." He replied. "I honestly would have had you declared dead if I didn't know better." He said with a grin. "Dusty has your kit."
With that he turned around and walked out the door, down the hall and up the stairs. I followed as best I could. We went up another flight of stairs and I thought *How big's this damned place?! All under a church?! How does nobody find it!* "It's six floors down. And nobody finds it because I and a few wizards insure that it cannot be found by those who have never been here. Well, mostly. There have been exceptions of course but they are rare." Jager explained, out of the blue. I shivered with superstitious fright and tried to lay my hand on a gun that wasn't there. Could he read my mind? "No, I can't read your mind, Dodger." He said, his cheerful grin broadening till he seemed on the edge of laughing. "I have just done this particular walk with over a thousand Rangers so I know all the questions from experience." My stunned look caused him to chuckle. "Come along, Ranger and let's say goodbye."
With that we went back upstairs and then turned. we weren't on the same floor we had come in. We walked through a dirt passage, braced by wooden beams. It looked more like a mineshaft rather than the old stone walls of the sanctuary. After about fifteen minutes I was about to ask where we were going when my nose was assaulted by the pungent smell of incense and sex. I nearly gagged.
"Horrid, isn't it?" Ask Jager, making a face of disgust. "We are four feet below and still the stink goes this far down. I hate that we have an exit into that place but, it's necessary in case of emergency. Let's continue." And so we did. We walked for another little bit but now chat was flowing between us. He told me a few stories of his life before he became the Grandmaster for the Americas. You know how I said I thought Dusty was old? He couldn't hold a candle to Maximilian Jager.
The Grandmaster had been born in 1219, under the rule of King Arthur, on the isle of Avalon off the coast of England! He had been born a peasant but had been knighted for valor when he had stood alone, defending a church filled with all the inhabitants of his small village, against the ravages of bandits! It was after that that he had turned. Not by choice, but because a woman that he had loved had seen him get run through and could not have born the thought of letting him die. He hated the curse until Sir Galahad had prayed over him.
"Galahad, I believe was a man truly blessed by God." He told me. "When he prayed, a man could feel the connection between him and the Father. It was a powerful, and at the time, a painful thing. I wanted his blessing but I thought that I was going to receive damnation. But when he was done I felt whole again. My thirst was subdued, though still there, and my powers were still intact. Go forth, he told me, and give yourself unto the Lord. Become a soldier in his name. In the battle for peace, and in the battle for souls, be ever faithful from this day forward. And I did. I ran right to a monastery."
He smiled wistfully. "After my training as a priest, I felt the call to the sword again. It felt like a divine calling, so I threw my lot in with the Knights Hospitaller." I was about to ask how that lead to being a Ranger. But I didn't need to. The ancient vampire rolled right on. "It was Galahad, of course who inducted me into our order. Just a couple of years later. I served faithfully for centuries. I was oft hailed for my bravery but I always rejected such notions, I was an undead thing and I was cheating. But in our order that didn't matter. And so when the chance to go to the colonies came, the Grandmaster of the European continent told me to go and begin our work here. I was promoted and sent west. From that day to this I have been Grandmaster of the new world." He stopped short and pointed at a ladder. "Here we are. Up you pop, lad."
I cocked my head. "You ain't gonna see Dusty off?"
Father Jager shook his head. "The sun has risen, and though it affects me less than most of my kind, it still causes me great pain." Without warning the old priest embraced me, then stepped back and placed his hand on my head, using his thumb to trace a cross on my brow. "Et nomine Patri, et Fillae, et spiritus sancti. Go forth, blessed in the light of Almighty God and may you ever turn your guns toward the cause of light and love. I hereby give you a penance that may never be fulfilled. I command that you go forth and do the work of the Lord all the days of your life, and should you sin and fall to wickedness go quickly and beg for forgiveness." Then he made the sign of the cross in the air in front of me, his eyes closed and reverent. "In the name of The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."
"Amen." Seemed to leap from my mouth on instinct and the priest laughed. I was completely caught off-guard and my face must have said it.
"Don't look so shocked. I *am* a priest you know. Did you think you could escape without at least one prayer?" He swatted me on the back. "And come back for Mass someday. I do a real humdinger of a homily. Now, git."
"I'll see ya around, Padre." I told him then, as instructed, I got. I went up the ladder into an old cave and sunlight was pouring in, golden and sweet. I blinked as it stung my eyes. We must have been walking in the dark. I stepped out into a set of woods and scrub and there was Dusty, doing the finishing touches on his saddle, and getting Horse ready with a final brushing. I greeted him and he turned and looked at me, impeccable as always in his suit and bowler. We just stood there in silence, awkward and quiet.
"I am not well versed in the art of goodbyes. Especially to my best student." He harumphed into the silence. "And so I will say this. Of all my students, of all the apprentices I have had over the years, I think you may well be the most perfectly forged. You listen and you pay attention." He looked into my eyes. "Keep those traits, lad. Always trust logic and your instincts. Those two will not mislead you. "
"Thanks Dusty. I appreciate it." I said then cleared my throat. "For what it's worth, you were a damn fine teacher you old ponce." I forced a smile and he returned it, though his was more natural. More genuine.
He snapped and turned to his saddle. He took off my gun belts and handed them to me. "There is supposed to be some big ceremony surrounding the passing of weapons to a new Ranger. A swearing of oaths and other lovely things. But, you do not need fancy words. Your honor is more than proven." Then he pointed to my belt as I strapped them on. "But I did do my job. It is time to put away childish things. I think your new piece will serve you better than the holdout gun."
I looked down. The gun in my holster was different, larger and the handle had a mother-of-pearl grip. I pulled the weapon free, cradling it in both hands. It was a Remington 1858 New Army. These guns were known for their large caliber and impressive accuracy. To give you an idea, most pistols of the day were sighted in at 25 yards. Good and serviceable in a gunfight in which a man might use a small gun. But the 1858 was accuracy tested at 75 yards. It was a rifle, held in the hand. I looked up at Dusty. "Thank you, Dusty. For this and everything else." I spun the pistol and slipped it back into the holster in one smooth movement. It was a good weapon. I sighed, "I ain't good at goodbyes either so," I stuck out my hand. "Good hunting, Ranger. I'll see ya around sometime."
He shook my hand firmly. "Same to you, son. We will meet again, I am certain." And with that he turned and swung into his saddle. He looked down at me and I looked up at him. We didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. Well, nothing either of us would say out loud. Men are like that and we weren't any different. I patted Horse and turned away. Then Dusty spoke up again. "Oh, Dodger there is one thing I must ask you, painful as it is." He held out his hand. "I need your badge. Since you no longer ride with me, I cannot in good conscience allow you to carry the title of deputy Marshal any longer."
It hurt but I understood. I flipped my poncho over my shoulder and unpinned the badge from my chest. I looked at the star in the light. I was going to miss it. Then without a word I flipped it to him. Then he turned and spurred Horse and struck off.
I mounted Rosie. He had headed East, probably headed back out toward Arkansas. I felt a slight tug in that direction myself but, no two Rangers could ride together. They all rode alone. Lone warriors against the dark. So I turned south, a lone Ranger, full in my prime. I was going south, maybe to Oklahoma, maybe further. Didn't matter where. I had a job to do.