The King of the West

by Pedro Urvi

  The King of the West

  (Path of the Ranger, Book 7)

  Pedro Urvi

  Other Books by Pedro Urvi

  THE ILENIAN ENIGMA

  THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN GODS

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  Copyright ©2020 Pedro Urvi

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  Dedication

  To my good friend Guiller.

  Thank you for all your support since day one.

  Contents

  The King of the West

  Pedro Urvi

  Other Books by Pedro Urvi

  Dedication

  Contents

  MAP

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  The end Book 7

  Note from the author:

  Acknowledgements

  Author

  MAP

  Chapter 1

  Snowflakes were falling from a cloudy sky, swaying gently in the icy breath of a fading winter wind. Spring was close at hand, and with it warm breezes would come to the north of Tremia. The Norghanian landscape, endlessly white, would be transformed into thousands of gay and cheerful colors in the lowlands. Forests and valleys would soon awaken, and life would come back after the long lethargy of winter. Plant and animal life would burst forth under the warm gaze of a sun which had barely made its appearance during the last two seasons, and which was sorely missed.

  A thick cloak of snow covered the path. The weather was not deeply cold, so that it allowed the fields and the landscape, still in their winter coat, to be enjoyed. As far as the eye could see was covered in snow: the road, the meadows on both sides of it, the forests further east and north. The endless mountains in the distance, with their peaks and hills forever cloaked in white, gazed at men, weather, and the passage of time indifferently.

  “Don’t lag too far back,” Lasgol said as he turned on Trotter’s saddle to look behind him.

  Not lag. Play a little, Camu’s message reached him, together with a feeling of joy.

  “All right, but just a little.”

  Lasgol saw his mischievous friend bouncing in the snow on the edge of the road. He was like a child who had just come out to play in the snow after days inside, waiting for the storm to pass. His everlasting smile and bulging eyes made Camu adorable, and Lasgol’s heart melted whenever he saw him enjoying himself. He was still growing and was now the size of a wolf, but despite that, as he watched him bouncing about in the snow, Lasgol had no doubt that he was still an infant, albeit a large and rowdy one.

  Ona came up to Camu from behind, crouching stealthily, hiding her presence. Then she suddenly gave a huge leap and fell on him as if she were hunting a quarry in the mountains. They both rolled on the snow with much growling and shrieking which Lasgol interpreted as animal laughter. They fought, jumped, played and frolicked in the snow like two siblings having a whale of a time. Lasgol had to wait until they got tired of having fun, although in fact he didn’t mind. They were happy playing, and he enjoyed watching them immensely. Now that he saw them together and how well they got on, he realized how lucky he had been to achieve the Elite Specialty of Beast Whisperer, and with it Ona as his familiar.

  “Easy, Trotter, you know what they’re like… thank goodness you’re not as full of mischief as they are,” he whispered to his faithful pony who moved his head up and down as if he understood and agreed with him.

  He stroked his neck and smiled. Gradually, dear old Trotter was growing used to Ona, or rather was not as scared of her when she came near him. Lasgol had been working for days with the pony until he had managed to make him accept the snow panther. Luckily the Beast Whisperer’s techniques which Elder Gisli had taught him were coming in very useful. Even so, it had taken time. He did not blame poor Trotter for being afraid of a big cat, particularly as he already had the playful and restless Camu as a companion.

  Ona stared out at the forests for a moment, and Camu began to camouflage himself. An instant later he had vanished. Ona turned her head toward him, and seeing that he was no longer beside her she gave a great leap. She looked in all directions in puzzlement.

  Don’t be mean. You know Ona doesn’t understand that, Lasgol reprimanded Camu mentally, using his Gift.

  Yes. Fun.

  No, it’s not fun. The poor thing was startled out of her skin, and she’s looking everywhere, not understanding what happened. Come on, don’t be naughty.

  Not naughty. Play.

  You can’t play hide-&-seek with her with magic. We’ve already talked about it. She doesn’t understand how you can vanish like that, and it frightens her.

  More fun.

  Lasgol shook his head emphatically from the saddle. He knew Camu was looking at him and would see his reproachful gesture, even though he could not see his restless friend. All of a sudden, he saw tracks appear on the snow: prints of four feet going away from Ona to the east.

  I see you, you rascal.

  Not see.

  Fine, I don’t see you, but I know where you’re going.

  Not know.

  Lasgol laughed. Camu was as stubborn as he was naughty.

  “Ona. Track,” Lasgol ordered her, and made a sign to her to go east.

  The panther looked at him and followed the order, as she always did. Once she was concentrated on tracking, she stopped being perplexed. She found Camu’s trail on the snow and began to follow it. Her cat-instincts and Lasgol’s training took over, and she began to move like a lethal hunter in search of a quarry.

  She’s going to find you.

  Not see. Not find.

  To find something, you don’t need to see it.

  Yes, need.

  Lasgol shook his head and laughed. He was not going to persuade Camu, so he let him go on with his game. He watched Ona not only following the trail on the snow, but also sniffing, which meant she had caught Camu’s scent. Now she would not let go. Lasgol rubbed his hands to warm himself, and in anticipation of the hunt Ona was setting off on. Would she be capable of hunting Camu down when he was invisible? It seemed a complicated business to him, but she was very clever. She was still very young, and she might lack the experience of years, but she was very bright and intelligent.

  “What do you think, Trotter? Will Ona find Camu?�
�

  The pony neighed and shook his head.

  “You don’t think so either? I’m not so sure… I think she just might. Let’s see.”

  The snow went on falling, and he began to feel the damp and cold spreading down his back. He huddled deep in his Specialist’s hooded cloak; it was the winter one, completely white and very warm. He was also wearing the winter scarf, which covered the lower part of his face. He checked his weapons: on Trotter’s left he carried his two bows, the short and the compound, protected in leather cases. At his waist, as was the rule, he carried his short axe and long Ranger’s knife. With everything in order, he felt safer.

  Not find, Camu messaged as he reached an oak and hid behind it. Lasgol could see the tracks his friend had left in the snow.

  I wouldn’t bet on it.

  She not see. She not find.

  Lasgol watched Ona. The panther reached the oak after following the trail, which little by little was being covered by the falling snow. She sniffed around beside the oak. Lasgol could not see any more prints leaving the tree, so he guessed Camu was waiting there motionless behind it.

  Ona looked back at Lasgol, waiting for an order.

  “Ona, bring down.”

  The panther looked at Lasgol again, then ahead. He was sure she knew where Camu was. But would she bring him down if she was unable to see him? It seemed to him a curious and interesting exercise, and he was intrigued by the outcome.

  All of a sudden, Ona leapt, and Lasgol thought she already had him, that she would fall on top of the creature behind the oak.

  But he was wrong.

  The panther climbed into the tree and crawled along one of the snow-covered branches.

  Camu became visible at the end of the branch. He shrieked with joy and began to dance as he always did, flexing his four legs and wagging his tail. Ona chirped joyfully too and swung her long tail, happy to have found her friend.

  I told you she’d find you…

  Ona. Smart.

  Yes, and very good and obedient, not like you.

  Me good.

  Yeah… sure…

  How she find?

  She followed your trail. She can’t see you, but she can see your trail and catch your scent.

  Scent?

  Your smell.

  I not smell.

  Lasgol burst out laughing, Yes, you have a scent. We all do, and each one’s different. She can catch it.

  Trotter smell. Me no.

  Lasgol rolled his eyes.

  Come on, let’s move. I’m beginning to freeze.

  I not cold.

  I know, you don’t feel the cold.

  Ona not cold.

  Yeah, but that’s because I’m only a poor human and we humans feel the cold, and we even freeze to death.

  Humans strange.

  Sure, and you two are perfectly normal.

  Yes, perfectly normal.

  Lasgol laughed. “Come on, Trotter, let’s get moving. We’re almost there and I want something hot to eat tonight. And I’m sure you’ll appreciate a good stable to rest in.”

  The pony set off.

  Camu, we’re off.

  His friend looked at him with his head to one side, then leapt off the branch and came to him.

  Lasgol whistled. “Ona. Here.”

  The panther obediently took up a position behind Lasgol too, keeping a small gap for safety, as he had taught her, so that Trotter would not be nervous. Camu fell into step with her and licked her affectionately with his blue tongue. Ona responded with a soft deep chirp which was almost a purr.

  They had been traveling for many days, but luckily, they were reaching their first important stop before they set off for their final destination. Lasgol was looking forward very much to this break in his journey. He had already parted from his friends several days earlier. First it had been Ingrid’s turn to say goodbye, setting off to the west. Then Viggo, to the south. And finally Astrid, to the capital Norghania.

  Lasgol heaved a long sigh. Trotter looked back at him.

  “Easy, boy, there’s nothing wrong,” he whispered, and stroked his mane.

  The separation from his friends had left a hole in his stomach there was no ignoring. He had an empty feeling inside him because of his comrades’ absence, and he could find no way to fill it. He had spent so long with them, always together, that he had forgotten how to face life on his own, without help. He took a deep breath. Now he had to carry out the orders he had been given, and he had to do it alone. He was a Ranger Specialist, and most of the time they acted on their own. He knew that, accepted it, and felt he was ready for it. He had spent four years training to be a Ranger and another to become a Specialist: yes, he was ready to face practically anything, and that was what he would do.

  As Trotter went on at an easy but confident pace, he gazed at the falling snow. It was covering everything with a beautiful white cloak, and it made him melancholy. Only two days had gone by and he was already missing them terribly, all of them, and especially Astrid. Their parting had been hard, very hard, for both of them. They were in love, and their young lives were moving apart. Both of them knew they would have to confront mortal dangers, and that there was a clear possibility that they would never see one another again. This certainty had deeply affected both of them.

  “We’ll meet again soon,” Lasgol had assured her.

  She had nodded, then hugged him as if she were going to lose him forever. “Promise.”

  “I promise. Nothing will keep us away. Never.”

  “Not even death?”

  “Not even death, because it won’t catch us. Our love will manage to find a way around it.”

  “Don’t let it get you… I’d die of sorrow…”

  “I won’t,” he had assured her.

  They embraced tightly, unable to part, wishing that by some whim of fate they could go on being together. Their feelings were raw, and the love they felt for each other was so deep that separation and absence were going to break their hearts.

  “Send news to the capital as soon as you’ve finished your mission,” Astrid said.

  “All right. I’ll try to meet you there.”

  Astrid nodded. “Don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t. And you be very careful. I have a bad feeling about your mission.”

  “Because it’s the King who’s calling me?”

  Lasgol nodded. “He’s dangerous.”

  “All Kings are.”

  “This one in particular. Don’t let him send you on a suicide mission.”

  “I’ve got no intention of dying. I want to grow old by your side.”

  “Before that we’re going to have a few dangers to get around.”

  “We’ll do that. I’m absolutely sure about it.”

  Lasgol nodded and managed a smile. He wanted to appear strong for her, for both of them.

  “See you in Norghania.”

  “Soon.”

  They embraced before parting. He wished that that moment could last for all eternity. He loved her and was happy in her arms. He knew they had to go their separate ways, that there was no alternative, and it hurt him as though his heart were being pierced with a red-hot dagger.

  “I wish we could…” she said.

  “We have a duty to perform… We’re Rangers.”

  Astrid nodded. “I know… We’ll do it.”

  “For Norghana.”

  “For Norghana.”

  They kissed long and passionately, and when they parted, he took her hand and kissed it.

  “I’ll always love you.”

  “And I’ll love you too, my sweetheart.”

  And those words remained engraved on Lasgol’s heart with the fire of a love both pure and ardent.

  He sighed heavily and came out of his reverie. Wiping the snow off his face, which was not letting him see properly, he guided Trotter towards the end of the journey. The pony plodded on without complaint, as he always did. He was a faithful partner, and he could always be co
unted on. This made him think of Viggo and his parting words, shortly after Ingrid had left them.

  “Hey, weirdo, don’t get into any trouble.”

  “I’m not a weirdo, and you know I never look for trouble to get into, not like some…”

  Viggo smiled. His expression suggested that he had never so much as broken a plate in his life. He spread his hands wide.

  “Me? I’ve no idea what you mean…”

  Lasgol rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and I’m an Infallible Marksman.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t enjoy a bit of trouble every once in a while to spice things up, but your trouble always comes with strange mysteries and that damned magic. That I don’t like at all.”

  “I don’t get into trouble. What happens is that we stumble upon unique and complex situations…”

  “Call it what you like, but don’t get into anymore ‘situations’, either unique or complex, because I won’t be there to get you out of them.”

  Astrid, who was watching the scene with folded arms from her saddle, chuckled in amusement.

  “You won’t be there either…”

  Her face shadowed. “True. Now we’re going to have to look after ourselves.”

  “Stay alert, and for the love of the Ice Gods, don’t get into any more trouble until I’m with you again,” Viggo said very seriously.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Attaboy.”

  “And you?”

  “Me? I’ll be fine. Isn’t this Viggo the Elite Specialist and Natural Assassin you’re talking to? Before long my name’ll be a legend among the Rangers.”

  Astrid burst out laughing. “First you’re going to have to prove yourself… that’s what I think.”

  “Piece of cake. As soon as I get sent on my first mission, I’ll triumph.”

  Lasgol and Astrid shook their heads.

  “And when the bards and troubadours are singing my deeds throughout the kingdom, you’ll find you’re not laughing quite so hard.”

  “The worst thing is that you mean what you say,” Astrid pointed out.

  Viggo’s expression said ‘of course’.