They hadn’t rested long before another group of a half dozen Rangers spilled into the Concourse from the other side of the market. Two were supporting an injured Ranger while the others fended off swarming ferrifae.

“Oi!” With a yell and a piercing whistle, Dog Mask caught their attention and the group shambled towards the flaming enclosure.

Though the heat haze rising from the flames obscured his view, Ethan would recognise the gait of his father anywhere.

“Father!” he screamed, fatigue forgotten as he gathered the iron lid and bone club. He stepped towards the marketside gap, craning his neck to better see between the two half circles of flame, but a firm hand on his shoulder held him in place. Ethan glanced up at Bird Mask, his eyes tracing the constellations carved into the beak.

“Don’t go running off again now, lad, it’s too dangerous.”

Ethan took a deep breath and nodded, keeping his feet in place with effort.

Prince Edrick and his Rangers moved sluggishly, affected by the siren chorus, and one of the Rangers succumbed. The ferrifae swarmed his fallen form before the others could aid him.

Prince Edrick turned as if to make back for the Ranger, but another pulled him away, forcing their onwards march. They wended slowly through the stalls. Ethan’s heart would stop each time they moved behind a tent, hiding them from view.

The two archers picked up station near the gap facing the market. Drawing their bows, they lit the tips of their arrows in the circle of silver flames and drew their strings taut.

Ethan held his breath, watching as the Rangers picked their marks, arrow tips tracking the tiny lights as Prince Edrick’s group manoeuvred closer. The arrows loosed, one after the other. One arrow hit a fae buzzing on the group’s fringes, consuming it in a bright blast, while the other sailed wide. It embedded in the frame of a stall and the wood quickly caught alight.

The Ranger swore, but deftly notched another arrow. Three more fae were felled and another arrow sailed amiss before the Rangers’ quivers were empty. Still more fae swarmed the ailing group.

“Can we go help them?” Ethan begged. “We can take more fire to them, and I can make a clamour.”

Bird Mask exchanged nods with the Lead Ranger, and he crouched to Ethan’s level.

“You kids need to stay here. We will go out there and help Prince Edrick and the others, alright? Pass me the pot lid.”

Reluctantly, Ethan handed it over. The Ranger took it and, with the Lead Ranger and another two in tow, they left the confines of their fiery sanctuary.

Ethan listened to the clang of the pot lid as Bird Mask struck it with the handle of his torch. It grew fainter as the Rangers traversed the market towards his father and the swarm of fae lights. Ethan itched to follow.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Easy there, kid, leave it to them now, alright?” A Ranger wearing a boar mask carved with bees watched Ethan until he nodded his promise. Satisfied, she returned to feeding more wood to the circle of flames.

Ethan watched and waited, sweat tracking down his face and soaking his nightshirt from the heat of the fire. Anxiously gripping his grandfather’s club, he listened to the distant clang of wood against iron. Again, he felt awed by how seamlessly the Rangers worked together, even in the face of an unknown foe.

A pang rippled through his chest. Had he stayed with the Rangers at the Central Citadel instead of running off, would his grandfather still be alive? If Ethan hadn’t run off, would the two young children now resting beside him lie dead with their father instead? Could he have somehow prevented either fate, if he had worked as the Rangers did now, as a tight-knit team?

The impossibility of it all was too much to think on, and so Ethan only did what he could: stand vigil as the Rangers rescued his father.

The sound of clamouring iron grew louder as the Rangers approached once more. Prince Edrick was limping as he held a torch aloft, shielding the injured Ranger and his bearers. The others fended the ferrifae away from the break in the fire as the group passed through.

As before, the ferrifae spun away from the flames and into the distant night, flitting amongst the market stalls, perhaps in search of easier prey.

“Father!” Ethan gasped, rushing forwards.

“Ethan?! What on earth are you— Your hair— Where’s your mother, your brothers—”

“A dragon came into our rooms,” Ethan gasped between sobs as he hugged his father about the waist. “It killed all the Rangers. It k-killed Failen.”

At that, the Ranger in the bird mask gasped. “No,” he breathed, sinking to his knees. “He promised me he’d be safe in the Palace...” The Ranger in the boar masked placed a hand on his shoulder as he began to weep.

Ethan hugged his father tighter. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry... The dragon turned on us next, so I r-ran past it, made it chase m-me outside and leave the others behind. I saw the city burning and— I didn’t know what to— I don’t know if they’re okay.” Ethan dissolved into sobs, pressing his face into the ash-stained fabric of his father’s uniform. “Grandfather, he— I— He’s dead. The ferrifae got him. It was my fault, I’m sorry.”

Prince Edrick clutched his son tighter.

The group sat quietly in their shock and their grief, tending injuries as best they could.

“We need a plan,” Dog Mask said to Prince Edrick. “We can’t stay here much longer, we should head down towards the Central Citadel.”

Edrick nodded, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he stared into the flames. Ethan was curled up by his side, already half asleep.

Edrick spoke, his voice gravelled with smoke and exhaustion. “Last report I heard told of one dragon left in the Village itself. I heard reports from my brothers’ teams that two were felled in an initial battle by the Great Fall. I saw three others pulled apart by the fae lights myself. One is unaccounted for, last seen moving towards the Darkwood massed with ferrifae. We aren’t certain, but we presume it neutralised.”

“Prince Edrick, your brothers, they...”

“I know,” Edrick whispered, smoothing a hand through his son’s hair. “I know.”

“This... I don’t wish to be callous, but you are our acting King.” The Lead Ranger crossed his chest with his club of bone in a display of fealty reserved for the highest ranking commander. “My Liege.”

The other Rangers followed his example. Edrick nodded tightly, accepting their oaths, eyes hard with grief and resolution. Ethan held up his grandfather’s bone club, presenting it to his father and liege lord with a bow of his head.

Edrick accepted it, pressing a palm to his son’s cheek before handing it back. “Why don’t you hold onto this for the time being.”

Ethan looked up at his father, vision blurred with tears he fought not to let fall, and grasped the handle with a solemn nod.

Addressing the group at large, Edrick said, “We’ll rest a little longer, gather our strength, and then make towards the Central Citadel.”

Ethan sat back down on the ground, holding the club close.