Remove the Shroud: The King's Ranger Book 3

by AC Cobble

  Remove the Shroud

  The King’s Ranger Book 3

  AC Cobble

  REMOVE THE SHROUD text copyright

  © 2021 AC Cobble

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  ISBN: 9781947683273

  ASIN: B08RSK8QGB

  Cobble Publishing LLC

  Sugar Land, TX

  Keep in Touch and Extra Content

  You can find larger versions of the maps, series artwork, my newsletter, and other goodies at accobble.com. It’s the best place to stay updated on when the next book is coming!

  Happy reading!

  AC

  Contents

  Keep in Touch and Extra Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Thanks for reading!

  1

  Rew stared at the rain as it swept over the dark green hills like a matron’s broom across a dusty floor. Mist billowed ahead of the roaring gale, swept up from the force of the falling water and the raking strength of the wind. Great curtains of water scoured the hills. Stands of trees were alternately visible through the cloudy gray and obscured when another sheet of blowing water lashed across the land in front of him.

  On the porch where he stood, cold droplets of water pattered against his face, flung by the fury of the weather. The icy liquid seeped into the thick wool of his cloak. He could feel the damp reaching his skin, and he shivered, but he stayed where he was, watching the storm.

  He reached up and wiped his hand across his freshly shaven pate, brushing away the cold water, knowing more would accumulate there in a handful of breaths. Distant thunder rumbled, barely audible over the roar of the wind, a portend that the storm was far from finished.

  Rew had spent the last decade outside in the wilderness. He’d spent many a day holed up and watching the rain, but in the forest, he had the protection of the trees. Out there, south of Spinesend, it was all open, sprawling hills, and there was nothing to stop the wailing onslaught of wind and water. It was impressive, watching the violent weather, seeing that ancient magic unleash its fury upon the world. Rew did not enjoy getting rained on, but he gave respect where it was due, and nature had long since earned his respect.

  “Any break?” asked Anne.

  He’d heard her come out of the front door of the inn a moment ago but had not turned. He shook his head and kept his gaze out on the countryside as she joined him. He told her, “We’ve a few days of it, still.”

  Anne grunted, leaning against the railing beside him. “That’s what you said a few days ago.”

  “It was true.”

  She gave a mirthless laugh and stood back up. She tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders and complained, “King’s Sake, Rew, it’s wet out here.”

  He finally turned and grinned at her. “I know.”

  “Then why are you standing out in the cold?” She waved at the torrential rain pounding down in front of them and hammering the roof of the inn like a mad drummer’s beat. “Bressan’s ale barrel is still half full, and I’m sure he’d enjoy your presence at the game board. He’s up twenty to none against Cinda, last I heard, and Raif hasn’t even finished a game with the man before tipping his king.”

  “You or Zaine could play him.”

  “Zaine doesn’t know how to play Kings and Queens.”

  “But you do,” reminded Rew.

  “I know how, but I don’t enjoy the game,” remarked Anne. He didn’t respond, and after a moment, she asked again, “What are you doing out here, Rew? We’re not going anywhere until this passes over, and you’re saying there’s more to come… Blessed Mother, even I can see it will be days yet before the roads are passable. Travel on the highway right now would be like wading through soup. We’d need a boat just to make it the half league into Laxton.”

  “I know.”

  She moved next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you want to get farther away from Spinesend, but we can’t. We’re stuck here, Rew, so let’s make the best of it. Have an ale. Play Bressan in Kings and Queens.” She gave a short, constricted chuckle. “I cannot believe I just said that. Soak it in, Rew. That may be the very last time I ever encourage you to have an ale.”

  “I don’t want an ale, I want to move. It’s not Spinesend I’m thinking of, Anne. I’m finished hiding, and I’m finished running. My thoughts are ahead, on Carff.”

  “As are Raif’s,” remarked the empath, fussing with her shawl as the billowing mist began to soak through it. “He’s thinking of his sister—rescuing her or confronting her, depending on the hour you ask him. But that’s not what is on your mind, is it?”

  “I’ve given very little thought to Kallie Fedgley, to be honest.”

  “You’re thinking of Alsayer.”

  “He’s part of it,” acknowledged Rew.

  “And… Prince Valchon?” asked Anne. “I don’t understand, Rew.”

  Rew reached up to wipe more droplets of water off his head and told her, “Anne, it’s time I face up to what’s behind me, what I’ve been ignoring for the last decade. What I’ve ignored for my entire life, really. It’s time that is over. I can’t tell you everything, and I am sorry for that, but I cannot. I will tell you that Prince Valchon is a part of it. All of the princes are. And now that I’m done running… Pfah. This rain. I feel the need to move, to go, but you’re right. We can’t go anywhere until the storm passes. We’d spend more time pulling our boots out of the mud on the highway or wading across flooded streams cross-country than we would making progress. I know that, but it doesn’t change how I feel. That’s why I’m out here. I’ve finally decided to move forward, but I can't, so I’m waiting.”

  Anne nodded. She left unsaid that waiting inside made a fair bit more sense than waiting outside. The kind of waiting Rew was doing wasn’t about comfort, not the kind of comfort that Bressan’s Inn offered. Never again, until it was over, however that might be, would he be comfortable.

  They stood quietly for a long time, watching the rain, and then Anne said, “Rew, I will not leave the children. Where they go, I go.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Will you leave us, then?”

  He turned to her and offered a wan smile. “No, I won’t. You told me once that the children are a part of it, and you were right. More than you knew, then. More than I wanted. My past, their future, it’s tied together inexorably. You can still feel the bonds, can you not?”

  She nodded.

  “Their fate and ours are one and the same, though in the end I don’t think anyone will be thanking us for that.”

  “But the princes will not forget them…” murmured Anne.

  Rew wrapped an arm around Anne’s shoulders and drew her close. “We—both us and the children—are in terrible danger from terrible men, but so are many others. Maybe we could save ourselves. Maybe we could run far enough away and burrow deep enough into hiding to avoid what is to come, but…” He paused, unable to say it.

  “But it’s not just about us, is it?”

  “No, it’s not. Not anymore. I… For a long time, I wanted it to be. I knew it wasn’t, but I wanted it to be. While I’ve been
hiding…”

  Anne pulled herself upright, straightening her back and lifting her chin to look him in the eyes. “Life isn’t easy, is it? At least we know what we need to do, right?”

  “We…”

  She reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing his gaze to meet her own. “We. I won’t leave the children, and we won’t leave you.”

  He nodded, and the smile wavered on his face. She saw the hesitation but did not comment. She dropped her hand and stood beside him. There was nothing else either had to say.

  She was guessing that he knew what to do, that his next move had already been planned, but it wasn’t. He knew what he wanted to do, which even he had to admit wasn’t the same as having a plan. It was a wiser man’s game, plotting out the moves, the reactions, the results. He didn’t know what would happen if he was successful, but in Spinesend, he’d realized that he knew what would happen if he did nothing or if he failed. That truth lay behind him. Ahead of them was the unknown, the wilderness, and he’d been drawn to that all of his life. It was only now that he realized why.

  “I’m cold out here, Rew.”

  He hugged her tight. “Let’s go inside, then. I could do with one of Bressan’s ales, and maybe I’ll give him a go at Kings and Queens.”

  “Good luck to you,” said Anne, grinning. “Better you than I. I swear that man sees three or four moves ahead.”

  “Perhaps,” said Rew. “The best players hold the entire board in their head, you know? They see where each piece is, and what it can do. They play out several turns in their imaginations, figuring out the possibilities, the potential responses, the next logical moves. Each new position is like a book they’ve already read—at least that’s what I’m told. I’m not a good player, but I’ve learned that to beat the best players, you can’t challenge them at their own game. The trick is to do something they would have never imagined.”

  “That sounds like a way to get beat, too,” murmured Anne, leading him toward the door of the inn.

  “Sometimes.” Rew laughed. “Sometimes, that’s a way to get beat right quick, but there’s another strategy, too.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “When you’re getting beat, and there are no moves you can make to get out of it, you flip over the board.”

  “Attack. Attack!” bellowed Rew.

  Zaine, twisting like an eel, slithered forward and delivered a hard thrust.

  “Ouch!” cried Raif.

  The big fighter dropped the linen-wrapped wooden dowel he’d been using as a practice blade and grappled with the thief. He twisted, lifting her to fling her down on the ground. As he held her high, the thief kicking and wriggling helplessly in his arms, he must have thought twice about it, because, more gently, he flopped her down and then pinned her with his body weight.

  “That’s unfair,” cried Zaine, struggling beneath the heavy fighter. “I hit you!”

  “Enough,” said Rew, crouching beside the writhing pair.

  Raif rose up onto his knees, breathing heavily. Zaine, from her back, tossed a handful of straw at his face.

  “You gave him a good blow,” said Rew, pointing to the spot Zaine’s practice dagger had struck Raif, “but the big lad wears armor there. Many of your opponents will as well. But even if he wasn’t armored, that strike would've punctured his lungs but missed his heart. Without Anne’s help, he’d almost certainly die within a few hours, maybe a day, but he’d still have some fight left in him. With a bigger foe like Raif, it’s just as important to get away after you do your damage than it is to land the blow.”

  Beaming, Raif stood, brushing the straw off his hands, and declared, “One for me, then.”

  Rew rose as well and poked the boy again in the ribs where Zaine had hit him. “Did you hear the part where I said you’d die in a few hours? It’s only worth winning a fight if you live long enough to see the next sunrise.”

  Raif shrugged. “Winning is winning.”

  Rew frowned at him and shook his head. “Lad, you risk too much. When it’s for real, your armor may deflect some of the damage, and Anne can heal some of the wounds the armor doesn’t prevent, but sooner or later, you’re going to be felled by a blow that you cannot get up from. You fight like this, and it’s not a matter of if—it’s when.”

  “What would you have me do, Ranger? I either fight to win, or I do not. We can train on maneuvers and skills, but when it’s real, I only know of one way. I understand what you’re saying, but once the steel is crossed, I don’t hold back.”

  “Brave words, but mark mine. You continue like this, lad, and you’re going to pay the ultimate price,” warned Rew. “Don’t believe me? Then go to one of those taverns the retired soldiers lurk in and tell me how many berserkers you find there. Winning is nice, but if you want to survive to be an old man, you’ve gotta think.”

  Raif’s lips tightened and he shrugged.

  Rew held his gaze for a moment then shook his head and pointed Raif toward the open door of the massive stables they were sparring inside of. “Why don’t you go check on Anne and your sister?”

  “I’d rather stay here,” muttered Raif, looking out the open doors, seeing the pouring rain splashing down into the cold puddles and rivulets outside of the stables. A damp, chilly breeze whistled softly through the open doors, and Raif turned to Rew, allowing the weather to make his point for him.

  “What Anne and your sister are trying is dangerous. Anne will do her best, but she’s not the guide that Cinda needs. Someone needs to check on them, often.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Raif collected his cloak and spun it over his shoulders. “You’ll owe me a mulled wine when I return, Ranger.”

  Rew waved the boy toward the door, and Raif strode out into the downpour.

  “You think he’ll ever make right on that tally of his?” questioned Zaine, rolling to her feet easily.

  Rew shrugged.

  Raif, feeling the pride of young nobility, had insisted that he and his sister would pay their own way on the journey to Carff. It was all well and good, except the boy and the girl didn’t have more than a handful of coin between them. All of their wealth had been left in Falvar or lost in Spinesend, and now they traveled with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, Raif’s greatsword, and the provisions Rew had purchased for them on the road. Someday, Raif promised, he would compensate Rew for every expense down to the individual ciders and wines. Periodically, the fighter would update Rew on what he thought was owed, and Rew would ignore him.

  Zaine rubbed her backside. “It’s nice that he’s so generous with his imagined coin, but I wouldn’t mind him having a few other considerations. The overgrown oaf doesn’t know his own strength.”

  “He’s taking it easy on you,” said Rew, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you feel him hesitate before you both went down?”

  “Why would he take it easy on me? You didn’t tell him to, did you? I can handle myself, Ranger.”

  Rew scratched his beard and glanced down at his feet.

  “What?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “What?” demanded Zaine, shuffling closer so that even with his eyes down, he couldn’t avoid seeing her.

  “I think that, ah, Raif is fond of you.”

  “Fond of me?” Zaine laughed. “What are you talking about? He’s fond of—oh. But…”

  “But we’re on a dangerous journey, and you don’t have time for that,” suggested Rew. “I know. I’d talk to him, I would, but a lad his age… It’s all they think of, Zaine. It’s best you ignore it, and in time, it should pass.”

  Zaine shook her head, kicking the straw at her feet.

  Rew frowned at her. “What?”

  Flushing, Zaine looked away.

  Rew swallowed. “Ah, Zaine, I’m old enough to be your father. Really, you’re a lovely lass, but—”

  The girl coughed and started gagging. She stared at him wide-eyed, shaking her head.

  Rew raised a hand toward her but didn’t think it app
ropriate to touch her just then. “Zaine, you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s common that a young woman sees an older, more experienced man, and—“

  “Ranger, I’ve no interest in men,” interjected Zaine.

  “Well, of course not,” he said. “I only meant that wisdom can be attractive, but I feel a responsibility toward you and—“

  “I like women,” cried Zaine. “I’m… fond of Cinda.”

  The ranger and the thief stood staring at each other for a long moment. Finally, he asked her, “Does she know?”

  Zaine shook her head, her face still a rosy shade of red. “Cinda’s mooning all over Bressan’s eldest son. Watch her. Every time he bends down to get a mug off the bottom shelves, she’s staring at his backside. Why do you think she keeps ordering ales? She doesn’t even drink ale. Raif keeps taking them, believing he’s teasing her. I’ve thought about telling him just to see what he’d do, but I worry about Bressan’s son. He’s a good lad, and like Raif said, when it comes time to fight, what little thought Raif ever keeps in that thick skull of his flees like a hare.”

  “Maybe she’s, ah…”

  “Cinda told me what she’d like to do with the innkeeper’s son.” Zaine shuddered. “The only thing that’s holding her back is the foolish notion that noblewomen should only lie with noblemen. Purity of the blood, you know? They put more faith in that than they do the Blessed Mother. I guess she hasn’t heard the stories I have about what those lords and ladies get up to when the other isn’t looking.”

  Rew glanced toward the open doors and the pouring rain outside. “I see.”

  “Does your font of wisdom, acquired after so many long years, grant you any advice you’d like to share about this situation?”