The King's Ranger: The King's Ranger Book 1

by AC Cobble

  Cinda glared back at the ranger.

  “During the Investiture, all is at risk,” continued Rew. “You have to avoid it as best as you can, protect what you can. Right now, you can protect Falvar and the people who reside here. You can protect your family’s seat and their legacy. You might be able to protect yourself. But if you’re pulled into the maelstrom of the Investiture, all of that may be lost. Not just you, Cinda. It is not only your own life you risk. It is everyone in this room and in this town.”

  “What is Falvar without my father?” asked Cinda. “What are any of our lives worth if his is worth nothing?”

  Rew met her eyes and shook his head. She was not ready to see with clear vision. She didn’t understand what forces were at play, how deep the machinations of the princes went. He didn’t know how to convince her, to explain to her the risks.

  So instead, Rew offered, “Your father was taken, not killed. Alsayer, whatever his plans, went to a great deal of trouble to keep Baron Fedgley alive. There is still hope for your father, but help must come from another quarter. For now, you must guard what you can. Look out for yourself. Look out for your people.”

  “My sister is in Spinesend,” said Cinda. “She has connections there and can help recover my father. Or, if you are right and there’s nothing she can do, then we must warn her and bring her back to Falvar.”

  Rew sat back and crossed his arms over his body.

  “What?” demanded Cinda. “You’d have us abandon my sister as well?”

  “Your sister is right under their noses,” said Rew. “They have not forgotten her, Cinda. By the time you get a message to her… It’s dangerous, warning her. As long as she’s ignorant, no one has a reason to harm her. If she knows and tries to come here, they will.”

  Cinda looked away.

  “Lady Cinda,” said Commander Broyce, “we can begin fortifying the town today. That’s common sense, no matter what else we do. We can follow the tracks of the Dark Kind on horseback and scout their location without engaging them. We can do these things today, and they will help Falvar. What we do about your father… we do not have to decide this morning. Let us begin our work around the town while we formulate a plan for the baron. In tomorrow’s council, we’ll know more, and we’ll have better direction. I am not suggesting we ignore the peril the baron is in, but the ranger is correct. The people of Falvar are at risk as well. While we strategize, let us protect them.”

  “You’re right, Commander Broyce,” said Cinda, drawing herself up. “Let’s do that. We’ll begin repairs of the gate today, and… the rest of it. You men know what to do. Tomorrow, we’ll make plans to free my father. And do not think to put me off, Commander Broyce. We will secure Falvar first, but I will not forget my father. All of you, understand, he is my family, and I will do whatever it takes to get him back.”

  “Would your brother like to be appraised of the military matters?” asked Commander Broyce. “I was told he’s become quite the fighter while in Yarrow. I respect your council, Lady Cinda, but it is Raif who is the heir. While your father is gone, he should take command, and while I’ve no doubt he will agree with your decisions, he should be involved in arriving at them. I know he is recovering from the magical attack yesterday, but I would like to keep him informed, at least. Do you think he’s well enough for visitors this morning?”

  “Yes, of course…” said Cinda, looking around, brushing her hair back over her ears.

  Rew frowned. It was an hour past daybreak. Not late, exactly, but there was much to do. Was Raif taking that much longer to recover from his injuries than his sister? Anne was up to her elbows in the injured from the fight at the gate the day before, but it was more important that Raif survive. If the boy was in danger, surely the empath would have said something about it.

  Rew stood. “Has anyone checked on the lad this morning?”

  Cinda called over a servant and instructed, “Go find my brother. Tell him he’s needed in council. If he’s unable to attend, I will go to him.”

  “Of course, m’lady,” said the woman, bowing and backing away. The servant’s face was clouded with worry, but she hurried to perform her task.

  Cinda turned to the others and said, “He took the attack yesterday worse than I did. Both the physical strike from the spellcaster and our father’s kidnapping. When the ranger told us our father had been taken to Spinesend, Raif was mad with rage. I worry he may have exacerbated his injuries from the fight yesterday.”

  The military men nodded. They’d seen the wreckage that Alsayer had wrought in the throne room, and it took little to imagine the torment it would be to absorb one of his strikes.

  They waited patiently, the men taking bites of the breads and meats that had been provided to break their fast, sipping their coffees. No one spoke. Cinda sat silently, staring up at the dais where her parents had held court. The chairs had been damaged from the battle the day before and carried away for repair. There were deep scores on the stone walls where Alsayer’s attacks had landed. The staff had done what they could to clean the room, but the broken stone would take weeks for masons to replace. Another reason not to have the council meetings in the room, thought Rew, but things were tense enough without him questioning that decision.

  “My father’s greatsword,” asked Cinda, “was it damaged in the fighting yesterday?”

  “I don’t know,” responded Commander Broyce, glancing toward the dais where the greatsword normally hung beneath House Fedgley’s banners. “It looks naked up there, doesn’t it, without the thrones and that legendary blade. It’s enchanted, you know? I would have thought it’d take more than a stray… Ah, I don’t know. Perhaps high magic could damage even a weapon such as that?”

  Rew stood and walked toward the dais. Behind him, he heard Cinda calling over another servant to inquire about the missing sword. Rew walked up to the dais and looked at the empty hooks. There was no scarring on the wall, nothing to imply a stray bolt of energy had struck the weapon. He looked down and saw a stool. It was high enough that a tall man—

  The servant Cinda had sent for her brother returned. “He’s not in his rooms, m’lady. I’ve asked the footmen to check outside for him.”

  “Check the baths as well,” said Commander Broyce, gesturing with his coffee cup. “After yesterday, we could all use a good soak. The walls, too. Maybe he went to look out over the town or the barrowlands. He’s the eldest Fedgley in the city, now. He’ll feel responsible for those people and those lands, but for now, his time is best spent in this council. I’ll talk to him.”

  Rew, standing in the blank space where the thrones had sat, saw Cinda. She looked confused. It wasn’t in Raif’s nature to shirk from a challenge or a difficult fight. The boy was a true-born warrior. Rew rubbed a hand over his head and turned back to the bare wall where the family’s enchanted greatsword had hung. It was the sword Raif’s ancestors had carried when they’d won the barony. They’d all been fighters, then. Raif had wanted to earn his share of greatness with the blade, to prove his worth to his father, to reclaim…

  Rew glanced back at Cinda, and as their eyes met, he groaned. “Blessed Mother. The lad has left.”

  The sun hung low on the horizon, blazing vibrant red and orange, casting its light on the pale stone of Falvar and the jagged spires of the Spine in the distance. Lit by the falling sun, it looked like the mountains and the buildings were cast in flame—an echo of the fire and blood that had scarred Falvar the day before.

  Rew, Anne, Cinda and Zaine walked from the town to the quiet settlement at the foot of the Falvar bridge. The doors of the hovels were all shut tight now, the shopkeepers who’d held out after the attack by the narjags finally fleeing to the safety of Falvar’s walls when word of a fire elemental in their midst had spread. Rew wasn’t sure how long it would take them to return, or how they would overcome the disruption to their lives, but he hoped they gave it time. The elemental was gone, burnt out, but the narjags still roamed the barrowlands.

 
It was a terrible disruption these people faced, but he wondered, perhaps it wasn’t such an awful bargain. The trials and deaths of the nobles meant little to the chandler or the tanner. None from the settlement at the foot of the bridge had been killed in the attack by the narjags or the inferno that had raged through the thieves’ hideout. Maybe it was only a few days that they would need to crouch behind the walls of Falvar. Then, they could return to their lives, unconcerned with the pain their leaders still faced. Rew hoped it was that way, that the impending devastation the nobles wrought in pursuit of the throne and the power that flowed from it would only strike their own. Rew offered a prayer to the Blessed Mother that it would be so, that the common people, the innocents, would hardly notice what was coming.

  But he didn’t think that would be the case.

  Rew led the party up the steep slope of the Falvar Bridge, and they turned around, looking back over the small settlement at its foot beside the river and to the walled city beyond. Water bubbled below them, rushing through the narrow banks beside the village and heading far away from that place. The hovels and warehouses by the river were empty, the gates of the town closed, the people huddled inside to wait out the coming night. Above the keep hung the banner of the Fedgleys, but it was Commander Broyce who was running Falvar now. He would be in charge until a Fedgley was able to return.

  Rew sighed. If a Fedgley was able to return. The moment they’d realized that Raif had fled, Cinda had run from the throne room, ignoring Rew, ignoring her advisors. She’d left the keep and gone straight to the makeshift hospital that was setup for the wounded soldiers. Cinda had gone to Anne, and Anne had gone to Rew.

  He closed his eyes, blocking out the image of Falvar shaded in orange and red. Cinda had known he couldn’t say no to Anne.

  “How far to Spinesend?” asked Cinda, interrupting his grim thoughts. “A little less than a week?”

  “A little less than a week,” confirmed Rew.

  “It doesn’t feel like home,” said Cinda, staring at Falvar.

  “You were living in Yarrow for several years before you returned here,” said Rew.

  “And my family is gone,” said Cinda. “Our banner is there. Our soldiers are there, but this is no longer our place. In the ways that matter, it is no longer ours.”

  Rew shrugged and did not respond.

  “We will find your brother,” assured Anne, coming to stand beside them. “He has a head start on us, and he’s young and full of spirit, but he cannot outrun the King’s Ranger.”

  Cinda looked at him, and Rew nodded. Alone, he could run the boy down in a day or less, but the others couldn’t keep his pace. They were going to slow him down, but in the time they had before Spinesend, he was confident they would find the boy. If all went to plan, they would catch him before he went too far and got himself into real trouble.

  “After we find him?” asked Cinda.

  “I don’t know,” said Rew, turning from Falvar and walking away.

  Cinda looked to Zaine, who was leaning against the guardrail of the bridge. “You can identify the man that has my father?”

  “I know I can,” said Zaine, turning her back to the town as well and falling into Rew’s footsteps. “Cinda, whatever I can do to help, I will. I know much of this is my… I will help however I can. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Yes, it is,” agreed Cinda, her soft footfalls stalking Rew down the other side of the bridge.

  “Spinesend is not safe for you, lass,” he told her. “The Investiture has begun. Your father was drawn in because of his blood, and they’ll want yours as well. You should drop this and find somewhere safe, and when it is done, you pick up the pieces.”

  Cinda laughed mirthlessly. “Somewhere safe to hide, Ranger? There is nowhere safe, nowhere to hide. You know that better than any of us, don’t you?”

  Rew glanced over his shoulder at the party that trailed behind him. A noblewoman and a spellcaster. An innkeeper and an empath. An orphan and a thief. The King’s Ranger.

  He sighed and turned back to the road. “Come on. We’ve a long way to go.”

  Thanks for reading!

  My biggest thanks to the readers! If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be doing this. Those of you who enjoyed The King’s Ranger, I can always use a good review, or even better, tell a friend.

  My eternal gratitude to: Felix Ortiz for the breath-taking cover and social media illustrations. Shawn T King for his incredible graphic design. Kellerica for inking this world into reality. Nicole Zoltack coming back yet again as my long-suffering proofreader, joined this round by Anthony Holabird for the final polish. And of course, I’m honored to continue working with living legend Simon Vance on the audio. When you read my words, I hope it’s in his voice.

  Terrible 10… you know.

  Thanks again, and hope to hear from you!

  AC

  Want more? The Ranger’s Path: The King’s Ranger Book 2 is scheduled for a January 1st, 2021 release and it’s up for pre-order NOW!

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