The King of the West

by Pedro Urvi

  The Master Ranger nodded. “Well done.”

  Lasgol had tried this with Ingrid, Astrid and Viggo during the breaks on their journey, before they had gone their different ways, but without success. There were some commands and techniques he could not manage to get to work. Gisli had told him to go on trying, that with daily practice he would eventually manage it. He only hoped it would not take too long, or else would only start to work after something unfortunate had happened.

  Ona looked at him and chirped distrustfully. The command had not worked completely, but at least she had not lashed out at Esben, as she had with Viggo. His friend had been given a terrible fright. Luckily, and thanks to Viggo’s incredible reflexes, Ona had not clawed him, but Viggo had cursed for a long while and ended up saying that neither of Lasgol’s creatures were to be allowed near him ever again: the one because he slobbered all over his face and the other because she was a danger to humans. Lasgol had not been able to persuade him that she was nothing of the kind.

  “Keep teaching it to her. She still doesn’t understand, but she soon will.”

  “I hope so…”

  “Don’t worry. Although there’ll be plenty of days when you feel frustrated, remember that when you finally get it, you’ll feel like the happiest man in Tremia.” Esben gave him an encouraging smile.

  “That’s for sure. Every time she learns something new, I feel an immense joy and satisfaction. It’s just that it takes a lot of time and effort.”

  “Like all the good things in this life. Nothing comes free and nothing’s given to you as a gift. Everything involves effort. Anyone who doesn’t make any effort, never gets anything.” Esben smiled.

  “Very true,” Lasgol agreed.

  “You’ve managed something exceptional. Being a Beast Whisperer is something that’s within the reach of very few. To be one, you need to have an inborn talent.”

  “Thank you.” Lasgol felt honored.

  “You’ve got something special, with tracking and with animals too. I’d already realized that. I wasn’t surprised that you managed to go to the Shelter. And nor does it surprise me that you’ve come back a Specialist.”

  Lasgol wanted to tell him that he had also attained the Specialty of Tireless Tracker, but for some reason he felt embarrassed and held back. It seemed to him that it would sound like bragging, although he knew it was not. He had attained it through enormous effort and hard work. Nor would it have been bragging for bragging’s sake, because Esben had been his Wildlife teacher. But even so, he did not tell him. He felt a little strange, like a child who has done something he does not want to admit to his teacher. He supposed it was because of the experiments… and that was something he certainly had no desire to talk about. Whatever the reason, he simply nodded.

  “Are you on your way to the Library?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The Librarians won’t let you in with a panther.”

  “Oh, that’s true…”

  “She might be your familiar and friend, but to everybody else she’s a dangerous wild animal.”

  “Yes, I understand that.”

  “I can look after her while you go inside.”

  “Would you? That would be fantastic.”

  “Repeat the command.”

  “Ona. Friend,” he said. He pointed at his own heart with two fingers, then at the Master Ranger.

  The panther watched the command attentively and chirped in acknowledgement. Lasgol smiled and stroked her head. Esben did the same. Ona turned her head toward him, showing her fangs.

  “He’s a friend,” Lasgol whispered, still stroking her. Esben did the same.

  Ona looked at Lasgol, who was smiling at her. Then at Esben, who was smiling too. And then suddenly she relaxed. She stopped showing her fangs to the Master Ranger, half-closed her eyes and enjoyed the petting.

  Lasgol was surprised. She rarely relaxed as fully as this. She looked like a huge kitten. All that was missing was for her to start purring.

  “Go on. I’ll stay with her.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lasgol turned and was about to go into the Library. Ona turned to follow him.

  “Ona. Stay,” he ordered her.

  The panther sat on her haunches.

  “Ona. Good girl,” he told her with a smile, and went into the Library.

  He found it exactly as he remembered it. The ground floor was full of students from different courses, all of them working at long oak tables. Against the four walls lay hundreds of tomes on huge shelves. The upper floor was exactly the same, except that there was one more set of shelves, with a door in the middle which crossed the hall from side to side, dividing it in two. It was very curious. The unmistakable smell of old books and oil lamps reached him.

  Several students raised their heads from their books to see who it was, and watched him with interest. Lasgol remembered how he himself always warily watched strangers arriving at the Camp, whether they were Rangers or not. Behind an enormous desk he saw one of the Librarians, who seemed to be older than the building itself, and went toward him. As he was crossing the hall, he saw a group of three students at the back, with one Librarian – whom Lasgol recognized – teaching them. The scholar had his back to him, so he did not see him. When he reached his side he stood there watching, without saying a word.

  At once he realized that he was teaching those poor souls to write. They were First-years, and judging by the difficulties they were having, he guessed that they could neither read nor write. It was not surprising. There were many in the realm who had not had the good luck to be able to learn: farmers, woodcutters, shepherds and cowherds, fishermen and others like that. They would have to work hard so as not to fall behind in the training. He felt bad for them, but then he thought about who was teaching them and did not feel so bad about it. They would learn fast.

  “Ahem…” he said, and cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard.

  The three students looked at him, and the Librarian turned around.

  “Lasgol!”

  “Hi, Egil!” Lasgol said with an enormous smile.

  Chapter 3

  Egil stared at Lasgol in utter astonishment. His mouth was still half-open in an attempt to say something that could not quite come out. It took him a while to get over the surprise.

  “I’m so happy to see you!” he cried at last. He hugged Lasgol so tightly and with such an impact that he nearly toppled him over. Lasgol recovered his balance and returned both smile and hug.

  “The pleasure is all mine!” he replied with a broad smile.

  “What on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d still be at the Shelter!”

  “Surprise!” Lasgol said, and burst out laughing at the irrepressible joy of seeing his friend again.

  “I’m so glad to see you!” Egil said. He was smiling from ear to ear.

  “And me to see you. How are you?” Lasgol was studying him with a critical eye. In fact, he looked well, which eased his mind.

  “I’m very well. They keep me very busy, as you can see.” Egil indicated his pupils, who were watching them curiously. “And you? How are you? What are you doing here? Why didn’t you warn me you were coming? Has anything happened? Are you all right? Is everyone well?”

  Lasgol raised his hands to stop his friend’s torrent of questions. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. But things have happened… I couldn’t send you Milton…”

  “From the look on your face I’d say they’re not good things.”

  “You’d be right.”

  Egil was looking around to see twenty or so students staring at them. “This isn’t the place to talk…”

  “I know what you mean. I stopped here first in case I found you, though I thought you’d be helping Dolbarar.”

  “I do that too. In the mornings I help here in the Library. We’re short-handed at the moment. One of the librarians isn’t in very good health and hasn’t been able to do his duties for weeks. And then there are a number of First-years
from the latest batch who can’t either read or write, and those who can are only at a very basic level. In the afternoons I help our leader with the mail, errands, logistics and assorted tasks. There’s a lot to do, and there aren’t many of us left at the Camp.”

  Lasgol smiled. “Wow, you really are busy.”

  “This is wonderful!” Egil said, and hugged him again.

  The Librarian put his index finger to his shriveled lips to chide them. “Shhhhhh!”

  Egil winked. “Come with me. I know where we can talk without being bothered.”

  The two friends made their way to the Library basement amid curious glances and an outbreak of whispering from the students, who were following every moment of the unexpected encounter. They came to the door of the forbidden chamber.

  “Here? Isn’t it still forbidden to go in here?” Lasgol asked.

  “Yes, but now I have access.” There was a smile and a triumphant gleam in Egil’s eyes.

  “Dolbarar lets you go in?”

  Egil took out a heavy wrought-iron key and opened the door. “Yes. Now he trusts me completely.”

  Lasgol was astonished at this. “I can see you’ve earned his respect and trust.”

  “It was hard, but yes, that’s right. Our leader trusts me completely now.”

  “You’ll have to tell me how you managed it.”

  Egil smiled and nodded. When they went into the chamber, they found it deserted. There were several tomes on the central table and the fire was lit.

  Lasgol gave Egil another heartfelt hug. “I’m so happy to see you all in one piece! You’re just the same. You haven’t changed the slightest bit.”

  “Don’t you think I’m stronger and a little taller?”

  Lasgol was forced to be honest. “Well… actually… nope. You look just the way I remember you when I last saw you.”

  Egil laughed. “That, my dear friend, is because I am exactly the same. Working as a Librarian hasn’t made me grow or develop any muscle. At least not in my arms and legs. Maybe here.” He tapped his head.

  Lasgol laughed too. “I’m more than sure that your mind muscles are always developing. If they grow any more, you might need another head!”

  The two friends looked at each other for a long moment, holding each other’s arms, not breaking the embrace. They had not changed too much in the last year, but both appeared more mature, and wiser, as a result of their age, the experiences they had been through and the new knowledge they had acquired.

  “Did you manage to graduate? I would imagine you did, but I didn’t get any news, and that led me to worry a lot. I sent Milton, but he came back without a message. What happened?”

  Lasgol nodded. “I did graduate.” He shrugged. “And you’re not going to believe it, not only in one elite specialty, but two.”

  “Two? That’s fascinating! Tell me all about it!”

  Lasgol laughed. “I knew you’d say that!” He told him what had happened with his elite specialties in the Harmony Test, and all the ugly business of the experiments he had been subjected to by Sigrid and the Elders. Egil was listening to every word as if it were the last one Lasgol would ever say.

  “Really interesting… and fascinating… Beast Whisperer and Tireless Tracker. If we think about it reasonably, I’d say that these are almost certainly the two specializations you’re best aligned with. Yes, I’d have chosen those two for you as well.”

  “I suppose the Harmony Test was right, then.”

  “That would seem to be the case with you. It’s very curious, the alignment system, and especially the use of magic in the test. That’s something fascinating… I find it intriguing and interesting.”

  “At the Shelter not many things are usual… the opposite, if anything.”

  “And these experiments… I can understand the reasons, the search for knowledge is usually a great motivator. Achieving superior results is a very laudable goal. However, it needs to be done with the greatest care, and taking every precaution. Only then should they have tested you. Particularly knowing that there’d already been failed experiments in the past. The path to enlightenment could be a very risky one if one is not very careful.” He was scratching his head.

  “They want to develop Super-Specialists.”

  “An honorable goal indeed, and I understand that. I even congratulate them for putting all their efforts into it. However, sometimes the search for perfection, for the greater good, blinds the scholar so that he errs in his vision and his aims.”

  “It gave me the impression they were pretty blind to all that, all except Engla and Ivar, who were absolutely opposed to the whole thing. I believe it was thanks to them that I wasn’t made to go on.”

  “In the long run it’ll get them into trouble if they don’t modify the methods used to achieve their goals, in my humble opinion.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “I’m sure you’d have been a Super-Specialist worthy of the greatest esteem,” Egil said. His smile was caustic.

  Lasgol smiled back. “Best not to have died in the attempt.”

  “Very true. In spite of what you’ve told me, I’d have liked to be able to go through the experience of the Shelter. It sounds an incredibly interesting place.”

  “Wait until I tell you about Snowflake and the climbing, and you might not be so eager.”

  “Harsh physical training?”

  “Exactly.”

  Egil nodded, with a shy smile. “Then I’d better not be so eager.”

  “As to whether anything happened… actually it did. I was in trouble, deep trouble” Lasgol went on to tell him about what had happened during the climb, then Astrid’s poisoning, and finally what had happened with Erika and Isgord. Bitterly and sadly he told the story of how both had tried to end his life, and the terrible final outcome.

  Egil was shaking his head. “That’s horrific! How did they get as far as they did at such extremes? I didn’t know Erika, but I can imagine it with Isgord. Hatred is a deep feeling that can poison a person’s soul little by little until it affects their reasoning. I’m sorry that his own hatred brought about his end. I always hoped that he might find some way of stopping hating you and going on with his life. It’s a shame, and an important lesson to remember. Life is too short and valuable for anyone to allow hatred to destroy it.”

  “Hatred is a very bad counselor,” Lasgol agreed.

  “Promise me you won’t let anything like that happen to me.”

  “What d’you mean? Nothing like that’ll ever happen to you.”

  “We all feel hatred. Some to a greater extent than others…”

  “You don’t hate, not like Isgord.”

  “Perhaps not like Isgord, but remember, I’ve lost my father and my elder brother. Yes, I hate. I hate deeply…”

  Lasgol saw Egil’s deep gaze and his clenched jaw. Yes, his friend hated what had happened to his family.

  “I won’t let anything like that happen to you,” he assured him, and put his hands on his friend’s shoulders to emphasize his words.

  “Thanks, pal.”

  “You can always count on me.”

  “And you on me.”

  “I do,” Lasgol assured him.

  “Of course that’s why I hadn’t heard anything from you. You were convalescing.”

  Lasgol nodded. “My ribs still hurt, but I’ll soon be as good as new.”

  “How are the others?”

  “All well. Ingrid managed to become an Archer of the Wind.”

  “Great specialty! The most prestigious of the Archery ones, from what I’ve read in the advanced tomes. I never had the least doubt that she’d get it.”

  “When you see her, tell her to show you her weapons, they’re impressive. Especially a tiny bow she calls the Punisher. She can release at a distance of two paces and kill a man with it.”

  “Fascinating! I’ll have to study it in detail.”

  Lasgol smiled. “Molak’s Sniper bow is something worth seeing, too.”


  “New, special weapons for Archers. How interesting! Are those two still together?”

  “Yes. And they’re the best. No question. They’re made for each other. They’ll probably vie for being First Ranger someday.”

  “Sometimes what seems to be made for someone isn’t what the heart wants after all.”

  “I have the impression it is. They manage pretty well.”

  “They’re moved by common interests and likes. That helps a lot in a relationship, from what I understand, although my knowledge is scarce in that area.”

  “Your knowledge is ample in every area!”

  Egil blushed. “As for love affairs and personal relationships, I still have a lot to study and learn. Don’t you want to vie with them for the post of First Ranger some day?”

  Lasgol shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. I don’t want that position.”

  “It’s a great honor. It makes you the best of the Rangers.”

  “Who serves the King directly. Look at what happened to my father Dakon. No, I don’t want it. I’m perfectly happy to be a Specialist Ranger. I’m very happy with what I’ve achieved. I don’t aspire to being the best among the Rangers.”

  “I think you would be if you tried.”

  “You say that because you’re my friend, and an optimist. Not because you really believe it. I couldn’t even dream of being able to beat Ingrid or Molak.”

  Egil smiled and winked. “You’d be surprised…”

  “Needless to say, Viggo hates every moment Ingrid and Molak are together,” Lasgol said in an attempt to change the subject.

  Egil burst out laughing. “Poor Viggo. I can imagine.”

  “You know what he’s like.”

  “Was he successful?”

  “Not only was he successful, he attained the most difficult specialization in Expertise: Natural Assassin.”

  “Impressive! That really is an achievement! Our friend is full of surprises and skill which my intuition tells me are innate and which we know nothing about. I can’t see how he could have managed otherwise.”

  “You’re not wrong there. He moves and fights with really exceptional ease. Extraordinary. Scary.”

  “That’s remarkable! I’ll have to ask for a demonstration and study him.”