Rienspel Issue III: The Rangers

By Ryan P Freeman

What Rien discovers about his own past might kill him...
Pursued by assassins, Rien flees north, searching for sanctuary in Firehall. Travel with Rien as he joins the Rangers. But from the start, these outlaws seem to know more about Rien than he does himself. With fresh dangers lurking around every trunk, their untimely deaths seem near at hand... or worse.
Every epic has its own humble beginnings... continue with Rien as he traverses the Great Forest in the third issue of the Rienspel series. Join up with The Rangers – as they defend the land from the ancient machinations of a horrifying foe.
Rien’s tale continues with the next installment of the Rienspel series: Rienspel, Issue IV: Firehall – OR – Read the entire series by snagging a copy of The Phoenix of Redd, Volume I: Rienspel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan P Freeman
• Release date: May 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781985159686

Ryan P Freeman

Ryan was born in Portland, Oregon on February 24th, 1988. She's the (upper) middle child out of four (three sisters – how she survived them is a secret). Currently, she has family scattered all over the western states.Ryan was always a big reader growing up. Ever since her second-grade teacher, Mrs. Yorth spent extra time after school helping her learn how to read, she's been devouring books (so to speak). Growing up in Oregon meant plenty of time for reading since there’s about 7.3 fully sunny days per year there.To this day, she loves the smell of rain, the rumble of storms, and the scent of pine forests. Her favorite stories growing up were old tales with Robin Hood and King Arthur - along with a ginormous rambling list of other myths, legends, and fantasy works.Ryan graduated from high school in 2006 and first attended Central Christian College of the Bible in Missouri, where she met her wife and began writing what would later become Rienspel. Then, by happy coincidence, since they were both already planning on it anyway, they transferred to Hannibal LaGrange College (now University). In 2010, Ryan graduated with a B.S. in Communication Arts.Stephanie Lynn Worcester (aka ‘Steph’ aka ‘Stephalughagi’) and Ryan were married just after graduation. Still writing, she started working in talk radio out of Albuquerque. Later, Ryan and her wife moved back to Hannibal, MO in 2011 where she eventually worked in marketing for an area non-profit, was offered a job as a pastor, joined the St Louis Writers Guild, and founded the Hannibal Writers Guild.She began publishing her fantasy works in 2016. As of June 2018, she is represented by Patty Carothers of Metamorphosis Literary Agency. Ryan lives with her wife in an old Victorian about 300 yards from the Mississippi River.

Book preview

Rienspel, Issue III:

The Rangers

© 2018 by Ryan P. Freeman

All rights reserved. Copyright under Berne Copyright Convention, Universal Copyright Convention, and Pan-American Copyright Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Cover designed by Laura Faraci

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Or just visit http://ryanpfreeman.com

Praise for Rienspel:

"Rienspel is a libation to the human soul. It is fantasy at its purest: a celebration of the myth, of the beauty of nature, of friends and family and forgotten goodness. The world and characters the author has created are simply unforgettable. Best of all, Rienspel is an unrivaled example of how fiction can indeed be true."

- R.E. Dean, Author of Blood for Glory

Freeman’s style combines a John-Grisham-suspense and a C.S. Lewis-high-fantasy flare, to keep his reader hooked. Page-after-page, I found myself wondering, ‘what’s going to happen next’. Readers will be asking for the sequel.

- Donna Lowe, Speaker and Author of Radical Love...Forever Changed

and Examine Your Heart

"High adventure meets high-fantasy in Rienspel. In a world of tall trees and elves reminiscent of Tolkien or Terry Brooks, Freeman brings the inquisitive Rien to life in a Celtic inspired world. With a few twists along the way Rien’s exciting adventure will carry you through to the very last page." - Brad R. Cook,

Author of The Iron Horsemen Chronicles

Chapter I

Flight

Rien awoke just before dawn. He couldn’t remember ever stopping the night before, but somewhere along the way, he must have quit his northward flight due to sheer exhaustion. The silent trees filled the horizon in every direction - a misty grey darkness clung about the hills just barely visible against the woodland features. If it hadn’t been for the Firebird, the boy would have been chilled from the quiet dewy solitude. The air was still and calm. The faintest breath of wind rustled through the forest like the sound of a showering waterfall. The Rillian could see the wind move like an ocean’s wave from one end of the gentle valley to the other, softly passing over his skin like a kiss. The still sound of showers could be heard, like a million little cymbals all resounding as one. Rien stood for five full minutes trying to place the cause of the noise in the empty glade… until, quite by chance, a single droplet of rain fell on his head from a broad green leaf somewhere high above.

He jumped.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard just the sound of rain before, Rien thought, gazing serenely around. It was like some sort of wild treat. Something special meant just for him.

The Firebird perched contentedly on his shoulder, preening itself. The bright, molten colored flames liked the imperceptibly brightening air with its pale oranges and cool yellows and seemed to match the dawning of the new day with its very hues. But Rien remained absolutely still. He didn’t want to break the rain’s spell over the near indistinguishable moment when night actually, finally, turns back again into day.

Then, somewhere off the left, he imagined, the first birdsong began warbling. And then, off somewhere behind him past the rise, another joined. And then another, and another - and then - as the first rays of sunshine crested the hills, an entire symphony of birds sang in humble thanksgiving for the start of a brand new day. Listening to birdsong in the morning, one sometimes knows how there is a melody to it - a rhythm. Just like how each new day begins on Main Street in town always opens the same way, too. Garbage men come and go with their beeping truck; the shopkeepers open up their doors to the tinkling of little bells, sweeping their storefronts; mailmen come and dogs bark as school buses sway past…

The forest was like a neighborhood. Rien felt like he finally understood this. Even though he had lived in the forest all his life, Rien had never really been a part of the wild of it all. But, now somehow he felt like it was his home. As if, somehow, it had always been his home. Sweeping his eyes northward, Rien felt as if over just the next rise, he would then not be so many miles up a trail, but entering yet another sprawling room of some grand house out of all the old tales. Looking over to the flickering bird at his right, the boy smiled as he heard Phoenix song join in the morning melody, too.

The day seemed to swim idyllically by, like some hazy summer dream slowly unfolding before him. The seconds slid sluggishly past like snails on a garden wall in the shade. When he finally stopped for the day on a little rising knoll, Rien could look out and away back south where he had made his progress. Wisps of milky white clouds trailed at the edge of sight - and maybe - just to the left of a trickling ribbon where he knew the forest river lay, would be Nyrgen. He half imagined a little stream of puffing chimney pipes where they would all be fixing the evening meal just about now.

His stomach rumbled suddenly. Clutching his gut momentarily, Rien began rummaging in his leather bag. The little fire he had made earlier (with the Firebird’s help) crackled merrily before him, warming the brown material. Methodically, the boy laid out its contents before him and gazed intently, thinking. A few slabs of marbled venison wrapped in leaves; a few dried apples; his canteen, full for the moment thanks to a little nearby spring; his hunting bow; string; and quiver with only four arrows (he frowned at this). He sighed and rubbed his chest where the Phoenix brand stretched against