Desert Raine

By Adam D. Jones

A deadly race for an ancient secret!
In his quest to master the Gift, Raine stumbles upon evidence of a lost mine hidden deep beneath the mountain of Zatfu, a mine overflowing with enough Dae stones to make Gamon the most powerful force on the continent, as well as ancient Lodi secrets Raine is eager to learn.

But others have learned of the existence of the mine. The Republic, after regrouping to the south, has caught wind of Zatfu's potential and will stop at nothing to take control of the Dae stones.

Both forces are surprised by strangers from a distant land, visitors from the pages of history wielding strange alchemical powers and a violent thirst for the mountain’s secrets.

Meanwhile, a specter from Amelia’s past has trapped her and Marshal in a web of deceit that will upset the balance of power across the continent.

The race is on for Zatfu mountain, and the fate of Telarine hangs in the balance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam D. Jones
• Release date: Jan 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215183052

Adam D. Jones

Adam D. Jones is a fantasy author and published academic whose writing includes novels and anthologies, magazine articles, board games, and research on medieval studies. He lives in Texas where he spends time drinking coffee, listening to vinyl, and wrestling his cat.

Book preview

Desert_Raine_Cover.jpg

Desert Raine

Marshal Law, Book 2

by Adam D. Jones

Copyright

Desert Raine (The Marshal Law series, Book Two)

Copyright © 2024 by Adam D. Jones

Reproducing any part of this work without permission is not allowed.

www.AuthorAdamJones.com

Published by Archgate Press, Dallas, TX

Edited by Renea McKenzie

Artwork by Bethany Vaughan

Design by Ryan Swindoll

This is a work of fiction. Obviously. The characters portrayed are also fictional and are certainly being used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real life events represents an impressive coincidence that should be reported at once.

Prologue

Waylon had crawled for most of the day, pushing himself by his knees and elbows along the unforgiving bank of the Elari river until he saw something other than endless desert. A group of people stood in the crook of the next bend, and the sight of them gave Waylon the strength to stand.

Nothing grew here. The Elari flowed from a mountaintop to the east, near the middle of Telarine, pushing its waters westward and enchanting stones in the riverbed as it rushed across the continent. The powerful, raw Dae water was as toxic as any poison, so there were no animals or plants as far as Waylon could see. Nothing but sand.

Waylon had known it was a risky route, taking his wares across No Man’s Land, but he’d ridden this path before. The other traders were afraid and always took the long way around, which is why Waylon could usually arrive in the north and start selling and trading before they could set up their first booth. But this time his horse found a wayward snake and fell to its venom, leaving Waylon alone in an unforgiving stretch of desert next to a poisonous river.

The others watched him curiously. They made no move to help or meet him halfway, despite his staggered walk.

He fell at the edge of their camp. They shuffled closer. Waylon counted about ten of them, all staring down and not saying a word. In his blurry vision, he saw a white-haired woman approach with a smile, canteen in hand. Waylon breathed a thankful sigh; someone in this forsaken desert still had a heart.

He reached for the water, but she kept it close, and Waylon realized she was asking him a question. His mind swam in the delirium of dehydration.

Tell us…the city… Her voice was distant.

Waylon squinted against the sun. The city?

You want this water? Tell us about the old city of… She closed her eyes with a look of regret, then opened them again. Tell us of…Gamon. We have been traveling and know nothing of it.

While she waited for his response, the others leaned closer. They also bore white hair.

They took the city back. Waylon’s family had lived in Gamon since before the Republic. To him, the recent incidents were as intimate as family gossip. They run Gamon now.

Who? Her voice grew into a forceful growl.

The….the Lodi.

She stepped back. The others shared looks of concern. Waylon let his eyes finally adjust, and he saw their faces more clearly. Instead of lines and wrinkles, they were young men and women. Not old, like he had assumed from their white hair. Their skin was not only pale, but grey. Puzzled, he asked, Who are you?

Strangers. She held out the canteen but didn’t let go when he grabbed hold of it. How did the Lodi defeat the Republic?

A boy! He tugged, but she didn’t relinquish the water. He’s…gifted. A boy named Raine. He can do things with Dae stones that—

She let go so quickly that he tumbled back. The canteen fell to the ground and spilled its precious contents onto the sand. Waylon grabbed it quickly and drank, feeling the cool water soothe his throat…but his mouth went dry almost as soon as he had swallowed.

The others gathered around, and for the first time, they all smiled. The woman who led them bared her teeth in a grin, and Waylon noticed each tooth was jagged and sharp, and jutting out at a wrong angle.

Thank you. He took another drink. His hands shook, but no longer from fatigue. He looked up at their laughing eyes. I can tell you more…anything you… Waylon coughed, then felt his chest burn. What…what…

His eyes settled on the river, on the innocent-looking water that drifted along the Elari. They wouldn’t.

The woman lifted the canteen and drank greedily. She looked to the others while pointing down at Waylon. This is what we’ll do to Gamon. To all of them. She handed the canteen to another, who drank just as much.

My city… Waylon struggled to speak. What are you going to do…to my city?

"Our city, she said, and the rest of them laughed in agreement. But first…this boy. The first thing we’ll do is kill Raine."

1

Now we’ll hear from the minister of finance.

Marshal’s spirits sank.

He didn’t regret bringing change to Gamon, stopping the Sovereign, or seeing the Lodi drive the Republic out of their own capital—he only regretted all the meetings.

Yawning, Marshal forced his eyes open. He was allowed to skip most of the town gatherings. Administration was Hild’s job, anyway. But on the first day of the week, Hild gathered the important townspeople into an old schoolhouse for a morning meeting that sometimes put Marshal to sleep before they finished making introductions.

While Hild had settled easily into the work of management and organization, Marshal preferred to walk the streets of the city, like he had once patrolled the settlement of Whitesand, to make sure that every corner of Gamon was doing things in the new way.

Just that morning, he’d found a business that wouldn’t hire Lodi, even though they had plenty of jobs to fill. And early that afternoon he’d broken up a fight that happened when a few drunk Corsairs stumbled into a few drunk soldiers who used to work for the Republic; in their inebriated state, they’d forgotten they were on the same side now.

A man with a pencil behind his ear worked his way to the front of the crowded room. Same as last week. Income is down ninety percent since we ran off the Republic, so we don’t have anything to trade with.

The man read a series of numbers from his ledger while Marshal leaned back in his chair and studied the old ceiling.

There were perfectly nice buildings in the Grey Quarter for meetings like this, but Hild was uncomfortable in that part of town since the Sovereign had used those buildings to plan out his violence. Meeting in an old schoolhouse also helped Hild create the image that she wasn’t standing in the Sovereign’s footsteps but starting something new.

Amelia elbowed him.

Marshal blinked, realizing he’d nearly dozed off. A Lodi woman was explaining how to build a mill powered by a water wheel. Marshal liked the idea, but most of Gamon’s citizens hadn’t made anything for themselves in their entire life. Food and supplies had always poured in; the Lodi’s self-sufficient ways were strange to the Republic families.

The Lodi were always the busiest workers, and they still poured in from every corner of Telarine. Once they heard the Sovereign was defeated and thrown into his own jail to rot, the Lodi people arrived on foot, horseback, and even boats from the deep desert, all eager to have a permanent city for the first time any of them could remember.

Some of the Republic families left as soon as the Lodi showed up, partly because they didn’t want to share their city with different-looking people. Usually, Marshal hated to see a family leave, but bigots were more than welcome to hit the road. Given the opportunity, Marshal would have helped them pack their bags.

But that wasn’t the only reason people had left. The Republic was broken, but not defeated, and Gamon was their number one enemy. Understandably, plenty of families didn’t want to be on the wrong side of that fight.

He was thankful that many people had chosen to stay and build a city they could be proud of. Most of the Republic’s citizens were normal folk who didn’t care about the Sovereign’s stupid grudge against the Lodi. They were happy to remain in Gamon and pioneer a better way of life with their new neighbors.

Of course, it helped when Hild shrewdly offered to slash their taxes in half.

Hild raised her voice, stirring Marshal from his thoughts. Now, I believe we have a military report.

Next to him, Amelia stood and straightened her shirt. I’ll be giving this report on behalf of Balen, who was called away with an important matter and regrets he couldn’t attend this meeting.

I’ll bet he does. Balen hated meetings as much as Marshal.

Amelia continued. Another Republic sandship was confirmed to be patrolling the desert nearby, about a wheel away from the Gamon’s outer wall. We think it’s on the same patrol route as the last one.

Marshal could picture it, prowling around Gamon like a hungry animal.

It was believed that the Republic leaders were licking their wounds in a seaside town to the south, but no one was sure.

The Patricians, always hungry for power, had lined up to see which of them could take the Sovereign’s place. A man named Slayton was often mentioned as an obvious choice. He was the commander of the desert sandship fleets and one of the Republic’s most feared military men, but no one had heard from him since Gamon fell to the rebellion.

Marshal didn’t like the idea of seeing Commander Slayton arrive with every sandship in the Republic fleet. It would be impossible to fight off that many ships. Fortunately, Slayton was still traveling in the outer desert and rooting out the Lodi, probably unaware that anything had happened in Gamon. News traveled slowly on the frontier, and Marshal hoped it was traveling slow enough to give Gamon time to work on its defenses.

But someone from the Republic would eventually knock on their door. Gamon’s location at the corner of Telarine, nudged up against the Divide River, made it a perfect hub for travel and trade. The Republic was going to want their city back, and Marshal guessed they would be ready to take it by force once the Republic’s Patricians settled on a new leader.

Amelia finished her report. Seeing no questions, she took her seat. Hild motioned for one of the scientists to stand.

The scientist didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

There’s not enough Dae stones to keep our water clean, they said, nervously fussing with their work apron. In a week, maybe two, we’ll be out of safe water.

Marshal sat up. Across the room, Hild raised an eyebrow. So, Marshal, something finally got your attention?

Frontier families have been boilin’ their water for years, said Marshal. Republic families can learn, too.

A few faces scowled at him.

The scientist politely shook her head. To boil water for each family in a city this large would be an insurmountable task. That’s why the large purifiers are used, but they require Dae stones. And…the Republic took most of them when they left.

The scientist was right, but Marshal knew the debutants and stuffy landowners wouldn’t boil their own water if their lives depended on it.

Gamon ran on machines, powered by Dae stones, and hardly any Dae stones were left. After the Sovereign was defeated, Republic soldiers and scientists had fled with every Dae stone they could get their hands on, leaving Gamon with buildings full of machines and not enough stones to power them.

Marshal returned his attention to the ceiling, and the meeting moved on.

Now, we’ll hear from our trade minister, announced Hild.

A man addressed them from the back of the room. This is an exciting day. Our trading ship, the first we ever sent, should return soon. Possibly any minute!

The traders of Gamon hadn’t had any good news lately. The Republic had threatened every northern city with war if they traded with the Lodi, which meant Gamon couldn’t order supplies, or new Dae stones. A hasty trip had been organized to send a merchant vessel northward to establish trade directly with the northern cities, away from the Republic’s prying eyes.

It had been Marshal’s idea, and he was proud of himself—especially when he had volunteered Gamon’s most irritating upper-class twits for the job. They got to play the part of being heroes, and Marshal didn’t have to listen to their whining while they were gone. It was Marshal’s first foray into politics, and he’d actually enjoyed it.

There were a few handclaps at the news. Marshal grinned.

The merchant continued. If their visit has gone well, we’ll have Gamon back on track by nightfall and have established new, profitable trade routes. We’ll eventually have enough economic clout to push the Republic out of power.

Impressed, Marshal looked the merchant in the eye and gave him a smile of approval. He didn’t know the first thing about finances or money, but it sounded like the traders of Gamon were fighting the Republic in their own way, and Marshal could respect that.

"That’s a big if, said someone else. We don’t even know if the northern cities will trade with our merchants."

We sent our best and brightest, didn’t we? Marshal said it with more sarcasm than he had intended.

Hild shook her head at him. Thank you. Now we’ll hear from—

The door swung open and Marshal sat up in a hurry. Only one person ever dared to interrupt Hild’s meetings.

Post! said the courier, rushing through the room. He handed three envelopes to Marshal. Hild fumed at the interruption, but Marshal ignored her. She went on, raising her voice to recapture everyone’s attention, but Marshal kept his eyes on the envelopes. These courier letters were much more important to him than any meeting.

Much obliged. Marshal said to the courier. He tried to open the first one without looking too eager.

Marshal’s wife, Erianthe, and their daughters, Cora and Agna, were still unaccounted for. Hild had ordered every Lodi in the desert to watch for them. Reports came in every week or two from couriers all over the frontier, but so far there hadn’t been a sign of Marshal’s family.

He peeled open the first envelope. Fine sand tumbled out as he removed the thin paper and unfolded it to read the precise military handwriting.

Courier Barle.

Edge of the deep desert. Mid-continent.

No leads.

That was how the letters went. The courier gave their name, where they had been, and if they’d found anything. So far, the letters had yet to exceed three sentences. He opened the next one.

Courier Mareli.

Skirted Republic territory, southern edge to the sea.

No leads.

Marshal tried to hide his disappointment. He’d gotten hundreds of these, but it stung every time. Eventually, they’d cover every square inch of the desert until Marshal was forced to admit—

No. Old man, you stop thinkin’ that way. The only reason no one’s found them is because they’re smart and they’re good at hiding.

Feeling determined, he opened the last letter.

Couriers Eave and Erim.

Visited northern cities along the eastern side of their alliance.

No leads.

Just a thought…has anyone tried looking through the Northern Alliance’s refugee records?

Refugee records. Marshal hadn’t thought of that.

The cities of the Northern Alliance made meticulous records and copied them from city to city. The excessive paperwork always seemed silly to Marshal, but it maintained transparency and spread information across the northern coast, which, supposedly, made their loose alliance of cities able to act together as a powerful force.

Refugee records would be easy to check. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to send someone north to look through—

A large bell rang outside. The room held still. A single bell ring simply meant that another signal was coming. Repeating sets of two would mean an important visitor. Sets of three meant the waves were too high for docking. Everyone waited.

After a moment, the bells rang furiously and without pattern, a signal everyone understood perfectly.

Trouble.

2

Outside, all eyes faced westward toward the Grey Quarter and the endless sea beyond. The tall buildings blocked any view of the harbor, but Marshal could catch an occasional glimpse between them, where something out in the water had captured everyone’s attention. Marshal thought he saw the ship, the trade vessel they were waiting on, but he couldn’t be sure. They wouldn’t have rung the bell like that unless something was very wrong.

Trying not to jump to conclusions, Marshal worked his way through town with Amelia right behind him. He jogged through the Grey Quarter, running down narrow alleyways between important buildings, until he found himself at the docks, looking out over the green sea where his worst fears were coming true.

The trade ship was broken in half.

The front half sank quickly, its overturned prow pointing at the sky. Marshal swore, realizing everything they would have brought back from the trading excursion was heading to the bottom of the sea.

The rear half of the ship was sitting upright, as if it could float on its own. It was also sinking, but much slower than the rest. It would be a miracle to save any spoils from their trip, not to mention the loss of their biggest vessel.

Questions raced through Marshal’s mind, but he didn’t have time to answer any of them. Amelia! You’re on retrieval duty. Get some husks, get every boat you can, and start bringing people in.

What caused the crash? Amelia raised her hand to block the suns. I don’t see another ship.

You let me worry about that, just get out there and bring people to shore. Start with the ones already in the water and work your way to the crash.

Marshal noticed five husks standing nearby. Husks were everywhere in the city, standing oddly and watching everything. They had all been working for Gamon when the takeover happened, but their command words were well known in the city, which made it a simple task to switch their allegiance away from the Republic. It had been difficult for the Lodi to get accustomed to their presence, but soon everyone appreciated living in a city full of helpful husks.

He waved to get their attention and yelled, Help Amelia!

Follow me, Amelia shouted. We’re getting into those rowboats.

They followed Amelia across the docks, their faces calm, as if she’d merely invited them to a knitting group.

Soldiers began filling the piers. Some were Stripes, the force who protected the city, and others were soldiers, either from Gamon’s old military or from the Corsairs who had moved in. All three groups now answered to Captain Balen, the scarred veteran who had commanded the Corsairs for decades. He’d worked tirelessly to make them into one group that worked together, but they were a long way from being well organized.

Marsal held the brim of his hat low and scanned the horizon, forcing his eyes to move slow. There wasn’t anything near the broken ship, nothing to show what would have caused the wreck. He ignored the gathering crowd and squinted into the distance until his eyes saw another ship on the horizon, well hidden by the low afternoon sun. But it was too far away to have caused the damage; even the Republic didn’t have cannons that could fire that far. It was like the trade ship had broken in half on its own.

Hild emerged from the crowd. Any idea what happened to it?

No…wait. Marshal returned his gaze to the broken ship and saw something new. Look at the deck, Hild. I think something’s going on.

Most of us never saw the sea until we came here. I don’t know what to look for.

Ignore the wreck and look at the people, the ones still on board!

On the back half of the ship, Marshal saw passengers scrambling on deck. A pair of them leaped overboard without looking.

They look…hysterical, noted Hild. "But they are on a sinking ship. They’re debutantes and money grabbers, as you like to call them, not soldiers."

Marshal huffed. That wasn’t it. He watched the deck and noticed a few passengers gathered in the middle, like lost travelers on a tiny island, afraid to jump off. Marshal guessed they had overestimated their ability to swim.

Behind them, a shape emerged. A man was pulling himself up over the ship’s rail.

The figure wore a black Republic uniform with a yellow pauldron, the clothing of a Patrician. Marshal felt himself tremble as the figure jumped high into the air and landed amid the huddled passengers. He grabbed one by the neck, held him over his head with one hand, and then easily threw him overboard.

Almighty, came Amelia’s voice.

Marshal hadn’t noticed her standing next to him. What?

Isn’t that what you normally say when you’re scared?

Aren’t you supposed to be helping the survivors?

I thought it best to direct the husks from here. They get easily confused with new situations. As they spoke, she directed the husks with military hand motions. The husks in the rescue boats looked back from time to time and returned her signals.

You checked on the Sovereign this morning? asked Marshal. The figure attacking the sinking ship didn’t look like the Sovereign, he looked like a trim soldier rather than a hulking brute, but Marshal didn’t know anyone else who could do the things he was seeing.

Yes, Amelia kept her eyes on the sinking ship. I found him locked in his cell. Like always.

Then who’s out there throwing people around like sacks of four?

Where did he come from? asked Amelia.

I think he came from that boat out there. With the sun setting behind him, it would be hard for anyone to notice him swimming their way.

The first rescue boat reached the back half of the broken ship. A pair of husks hurried onto the deck and charged at the mysterious figure, but he shoved past them easily and kicked their little boat, knocking it into pieces that quickly sank. He turned his attention to the husks and wrestled them to the ground.

Marshal growled. Somebody get Raine out there.

3

In a mad dash, Raine followed Dawn through the corridors of her research building, down the stairs, and out onto the street. When Dawn got excited about something, it was impossible to keep up with her, and right now she was babbling nonstop like an auctioneer after his fourth cup of coffee.

It’s not untested, it’s just that I haven’t gotten around to testing it yet, said Dawn, shoving people aside. But if it works, then we’ll get to the sinking ship first.

That’s great. Raine reached into his robe and gripped the Dae stone, like he’d done a hundred times on the way out, making sure it was still there. It was the only Dae stone in Gamon that wasn’t embedded in a sandship or some other machine, the only one he could use to power his ability. "By the way, what are you talking about? Get to what ship first?"

Moments ago, when someone in the lab pointed out the window and screamed, Dawn had grabbed her cutlass and dragged Raine out of the room before he could get a look, and he’d missed most of what she said along the way.

Dawn didn’t slow down as the brick streets of the Grey Quarter became wooden planks of the city docks. I don’t have time to explain everything, Raine.

"It would be nice if you’d explain something. Just one thing! One! That’s all I ask."

She rushed to the