Exiled

by Blake Arthur Peel

  “Let’s go find some place to settle down for the night,” I say, keeping my voice low. “We can try to get our bearings tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Zara replies, coming to stand hesitantly beside me.

  I take her hand and begin pulling her along, carefully picking my way through the darkness. The ground is rough and stony, and several times we stumble, scuffing a large rock or walking into a small crag. As always when a difficult situation arises, I find myself mentally going over the mantra of the Ranger’s Oath:

  I swear by my life and my hope for salvation that I will abide by the Oath of the Rangers until my dying breath.

  Our solemn duty is to protect the borders of the realms of men, from those enemies that would seek our destruction. The wilderness shall be our homestead, the sun and stars our only hearth. We will sacrifice everything, even our very lives, for the defense of the kingdom, unto the death of those who would do us harm.

  We are the watchers in the woods, the arrows in the darkness.

  None shall pass by while we stand guard.

  Historically, the rangers were established to keep a careful eye on the Arc of Radiance, to make sure that no demons got through to threaten the rest of mankind. That charge never fully vanished, though after many years, memories of the R’Laar began to fade. In recent times, the rangers function more like patrolmen, wandering sheriffs who look after the interests of the king and crush rebellions when they arise, occasionally putting down a rabid beast or two.

  It seems that fate has thrust us back into the fight to fulfill our ancient oath. Now, it appears that I am in the center of it all, watching the borders from the outside despite the fact that I am not yet even a full ranger.

  The Light is not without a sense of irony, it seems.

  “The arrows in the darkness,” I whisper to myself, repeating the line from the Oath. “I really wish that I had a few arrows right about now.”

  We continue on our way, wordlessly trekking through the unforgiving landscape when a sound rips through night air, chilling me to the bone. It sounds like a howl, though it is unlike any animal I have ever heard before, even a darkhound. The noise is guttural, like a deep shrieking sound, and it echoes of the stones of the hills, causing us to freeze in our tracks.

  “What was that?” Zara hisses, her hand squeezing mine more tightly.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “But whatever it was, I don’t want to stick around and find out. Come on.”

  I keep moving forward, tugging on Zara’s hand to follow. The light of the stars is enough to go by, though the uneven terrain makes it difficult for us to move quickly. Soon, we turn a corner into a ravine and the glowing dome of the Arc falls out of sight.

  Again, we hear the strange howling noise. This time, it sounds close.

  Our hands start to become slick with sweat, and I can tell from the way that Zara is holding me that she is starting to get nervous.

  We need to find a place to hide, I think to myself, squinting to try and find somewhere we can get out of sight. All around us, jagged rocks and scraggly brush choke the sloping ground. There has to be someplace we can hunker down for the night.

  Finally, I spot a large boulder with a small, sheltered overhang. It rests just a few paces away at the base of one of the hills.

  "There," I whisper, climbing through some bushes on my way to the boulder. Their thorny branches scratch and tug at my breeches.

  "Ow," grunts Zara, her leggings not as durable as my leathers.

  We eventually arrive at the spot, but not before another howl tears through the air, this one now joined by more distant-sounding ones.

  "In here," I say in a hushed tone, ducking down beneath the overhang. Zara quickly follows, pressing up against the back of the rocky wall. I pull a few stones and some branches to cover the entrance to our little hideout, further concealing us within the crack. Then we wait, barely daring to breathe.

  The howling continues, reverberating off the stone of the hills, drawing closer until they are so close we have to cover our ears. Outside, something moves in the darkness, passing through the ravine with heavy, lumbering footsteps. In an instant the howling stops, allowing for a terrifying silence to fill the void. I shift slightly from my position beneath the rock, peering out through the crack to see if I can catch a glimpse of whatever is following us. Zara squeezes my arm warningly, clearly worried for me to make any noise, but I ignore her, determined to see what is hunting us.

  In front of our hiding place, not ten paces away, is a nightmarish creature that I have never seen before. It is four-legged, approximately the size of a large horse, only it plods along the ground like an enormous lizard, its belly scraping the dirt. Along its back is a series of ridges that appear to be spiny quills, similar to a porcupine, only on a much larger scale. Its tail, which curls behind it, is plated with carapace and is barbed at the tip like a scorpion, and its feet bear curving talons that scrape against the stones. Like all other demons, its eyes glow a bright, malevolent red, like twin coals set into its skull.

  Looking on in horror, I watch as it lifts its large, wedge-like head into the air and sniffs, reptilian nose sucking in air as it slowly swings its head from side to side.

  What in the Eleven Hells? I think, mesmerized by the grotesque creature. That thing makes darkhounds look like pups!

  It continues wagging its head, sniffing the air and trying to determine where we have gone. Then, apparently unable to locate us, it opens its mouth wide and lets out a furious scream, which causes me to fall back inside the overhang and plug my ears.

  The howls from its fellows come to match it, and eventually, the creature begins crawling away into the darkness, continuing its search for food elsewhere.

  As it departs, Zara moves over to the crack to steal a glance at the monster, her eyes going wide as she lays eyes on it.

  She and I sit there in silence, clinging to each other while the howling grows fainter and fainter. Then, after a while, there is only the sound of our breathing and the faint rustle of the wind. We are, for the moment at least, alone once more.

  "What was that thing?" Zara whispers, voice trembling.

  "No idea," I reply, voice equally quiet.

  "I've read at least a dozen books on the R'Laar," she says. "Not once have I ever come across anything like that."

  I don't respond. There are no words I can offer as we sit there beneath the rock.

  After a few minutes, Zara continues. "Now what do we do? I don't want to go out there while those things are wandering about."

  "I think we found our shelter for the night," I say quietly. "Let's wait for daybreak, then see if things are safe. At the very least, we should be able to see them coming in the light of day." It's not a perfect plan, but it's better than nothing.

  Zara lets out a small sigh and nestles up close to me, resting at the back of our miniature cave. It feels strange, bedding down outside of the Arc, but I find myself feeling grateful that I am not alone.

  Whatever the morning brings, at least we will be together.

  Closing my eyes, I attempt to find some sleep. Although, something tells me it is not going to be a very restful night.

  Chapter Seven

  Zara

  The morning sun rises, bringing light to the world and ushering in our first day on this side of the Arc.

  Hesitantly, we push away the rocks and emerge from our hole, muscles protesting from being cramped for so many hours. Sleep had been impossible to come by, and not only because of the uncomfortable nature of our accommodations. The howls of the creatures had persisted throughout the night, only finally vanishing as dawn’s light crept over the horizon.

  I follow Owyn out into the ravine, blinking against the change in brightness. It looks like a completely different world from the one I had imagined in the night, its appearance much less sinister.

  The hills are dry and arid, a desert unlike anything found in Tarsynium. Rocks and tangled thickets of b
rush cover the ground, adding some variation to the dusty brown dirt that comprises these hills. Above, the sun grows gradually brighter as it climbs into the sky, and the air is surprisingly hot, despite it being early morning.

  “I think it’s safe,” Owyn says, his posture becoming less tense as he steps away from the rocky overhang. “We appear to be alone.”

  “Perhaps those things are nocturnal,” I suggest, picking my way through the thorny brush.

  “My thoughts exactly,” he replies. He stops and looks around, apparently trying to figure out our location. “I think the Arc is that way.” He points in one direction, then looks up, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Judging by the position of the sun, I’d say that way is north, and that way is west.” He points in two other directions.

  “Where do you think we should go?”

  He shrugs. “One place is as good as any,” he replies. “So long as we have decent shelter.”

  I swallow, throat feeling parched. “There are other, more pressing concerns I think. Like getting water and food.”

  He grimaces. “That may prove difficult. These hills look like they haven’t seen rain for months.” He kicks a small stone, sending up a cloud of dust to prove his point. “Water will attract food, and if anywhere is going to have water, it’s these ravines.”

  Gesturing in a random direction, I say, “Shall we begin exploring, then?”

  He nods, and we immediately begin wandering through these rough and barren hills.

  The way is much easier to traverse in the daylight, though this introduces a slew of other problems as well. The higher the sun climbs, the hotter it becomes, scorching the land mercilessly as we try to keep to shadier paths. Why in the Light is it so hot? I find myself thinking, wiping away a bead of sweat from the side of my face. It’s winter inside the Arc of Radiance. Shouldn’t the seasons function similarly out here?

  The more I think about it, though, the more it sort of makes sense. Radiant shields, especially those conjured by powerful mages, are meant to preserve. Everything within the shield is maintained and protected by the magic, preventing outside influences from causing harm. Whatever malign influences that have destroyed this outside world have been kept out by the Arc, leaving Tarsynium preserved. I suspect the transformation of this land has something to do with the demon’s magic, which appears to suck the life out of all living things.

  We continue on for what seems like hours, pushing through brambles and climbing over dusty stones. My robes soon become ripped and tattered, my skin scraped and bloody.

  Owyn and I talk little as we go, the gravity of the situation weighing down on us. We are exiles now, in a hostile realm ruled by demonic monsters. It is not the sort of thing you survive.

  My stomach growls, a long, empty wail that seems to echo through the hills.

  I can feel myself start to blush. “Sorry,” I say awkwardly as Owyn looks back over his shoulder.

  “It’s alright,” he replies. “I’m hungry too.”

  I pause, using this as an opportunity to catch my breath. “Do you think we’ll be able to find anything out here? I mean, it’s called the wastes for a reason.”

  He hesitates before responding, eyebrows knitting together. “I think so. I mean, those creatures last night have been able to survive out here, so that means there must be a food source. Also, these,” he crouches down and touches one of the short, thorny bushes. “There has to be some water here, otherwise these plants wouldn’t be able to survive.”

  I nod, though his words do little to ease my worry. This is a land we know nothing about. How can we hope to live out here?

  We continue onward, falling back into a grim silence.

  After what seems like hours, we stumble into a narrow valley between two particularly large hills. The vegetation grows thicker here, though the hills themselves are just as drab as the rest of the area. As we approach, something reflects the light of the sun, which has grown hotter the longer we have walked.

  “Water!” I declare, pointing excitedly.

  Owyn grins, picking up his pace as we rush toward the spot at the bottom of the valley.

  Sure enough, resting in a shallow depression in the rock is a small pool of crystal clear water. It is no more than one feet deep at its center, and is perhaps ten feet in diameter, stretching in an uneven circle.

  As we draw near, I have to resist the urge to plunge my hands into the water and start thirstily lapping it up. My biological lessons at the Academy immediately come to mind, reminding me of pathogens known to make people sick.

  “Do you think it’s safe to drink?” I ask Owyn, who crouches down and examines the water with a critical eye.

  “I think so,” he says after a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  He points to the center of the pool. “You see those ripples?”

  I squint my eyes, only just now noticing small, almost imperceptible ripples undulating on the water’s surface. I nod my head.

  “That means it’s a natural spring,” he replies. “Which makes sense, considering how dry it is out here. Any rain water, if it ever does rain, would quickly dry up. But underground springs would remain unaffected. That must be what’s feeding these plants.”

  “I would be more fascinated if I wasn’t so thirsty,” I reply dryly, crouching down beside him. Reaching down, I dip my fingers into it, and am surprised to find that it is fairly cold.

  Owyn is less tentative than I am. He dips his whole hand in and cups some water, bringing it up to his mouth and slurping loudly.

  I quirk an eyebrow at him. “How is it?”

  He grins. “Delicious.”

  Too thirsty to argue, I cup my own hand and take a drink, letting the cool liquid wash over my parched tongue. It tastes divine, clean and crisp like snow melt, only not quite as cold. We spend the next several minutes noisily drinking our fill, then wash off our hands and faces, further cooling us down.

  Sighing in contentment, I sit back on the rock, forgetting for a moment my hunger and my fear at being in the wastes. Something small like fresh water can really boost one’s morale.

  “We still need to find more permanent shelter,” Owyn says after a moment. “Preferably away from this spring.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “This could be the only source of water for miles,” he replies, picking up a small pebble and tossing it in. “That means animals will use it for drinking.”

  I grimace, eying the small pool. Suddenly, the thought of sharing the same water with one of those horrid creatures makes my stomach churn.

  “We’ll stay close enough that we can easily sneak down here for a drink, but I think we should keep our distance.”

  “Alright,” I say grudgingly, pushing myself to my feet. Continuing on in the hot sun is the last thing I want to do right now, but he has a point. “Let’s get going then.”

  We stray from the spring, moving out of the valley and into a ravine that seems to split one of the hills in two. It is narrow, but fairly shaded, with plenty of ledges and overhanging bushes. More importantly, however, is the small cave at the end, which appears tall enough to allow even Owyn to stand up inside.

  Creeping into the ravine, the two of us pause outside of the cave.

  “This looks like a good place,” I whisper, pointing. “But do you think anything else has claimed it?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replies. He creeps forward, looking at everything from the dirt beneath his feet to the brambles he passes, but does not linger too long over any one detail. He pauses at the mouth of the cave, peering inside. “I don’t see any sign of an animal,” he says quietly, looking over his shoulder at me, “but I want to be certain before we settle down. I wouldn’t want to wake up to find a darkhound chewing on my leg.”

  “Lovely,” I reply dryly. “Now I am going to have nightmares.”

  He cautiously steps inside, picking up a rock to use as self-defense. Then he
disappears, completely vanishing into the darkness.

  I stand there uneasily, waiting for him to return. I feel exposed out here, even in this little ravine, and a light breeze rushes through the stony valley, rustling my hair. You better not die in there, you great lummox, I think nervously. I will not be left out here to fend for myself alone.

  Finally, he emerges, unharmed and smiling. “It’s empty,” he declares, no longer bothering to lower his voice. “It goes pretty deep, but there is nothing in there but sand.”

  “Perfect,” I reply, feeling relieved.

  Making my way to the mouth of the cave, I stand beside Owyn and peer inside. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I can make out a semi-circular chamber with a floor of grit and sand. Farther back, the cave closes off, becoming increasingly narrow until nothing but a small crack lies at the end. The air is cooler inside, almost to the point of being cold, and it feels like the first safe place we have encountered since being exiled.

  “Home sweet home,” he says beside me, offering a grim smile.

  “So, we now have water and shelter,” I say after a moment, stepping inside and looking out into the valley. “Not bad for our first day.”

  Owyn glances up at the sun. “Still a few hours of daylight left. I bet we can accomplish more.”

  I let out an exhausted sigh. “You never stop to rest, do you?”

  He chuckles. “Not in a survival situation. Next, we’ll need to find some wood for a fire. It’ll keep us warm at night and help us cook food... if we manage to find any.”

  Holding my empty hands out in front of me, I give him a meaningful look. “In case you weren’t aware, I don’t have my talisman with me. How do you suggest we make a fire?”

  He gives me an odd look. “Zara, I’ve trained as a ranger.”