by AC Cobble
The Ranger’s Path
The King’s Ranger Book 2
AC Cobble
THE RANGER’S PATH text copyright
© 2020 AC Cobble
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ISBN: 9781947683266
ASIN: B08GM841ZW
Cobble Publishing LLC
Sugar Land, TX
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Thanks for reading!
Keep in Touch and Extra Content
You can find larger versions of the maps, series artwork, my newsletter, and other goodies at accobble.com. I hope you enjoy the book, and when you’re ready for more, Remove the Shroud: The King’s Ranger Book 3 is penciled for an April 1st, 2021 release!
Happy reading!
AC
1
“You’re gripping the hilt like you’re trying to strangle it, lass,” advised Rew. “Loosen up, or in minutes, your hand will cramp, and you’ll be as useless as a cat with a fork and a knife.”
Hissing in frustration, Zaine relaxed her grip on the dagger. She frowned at him. “A cat with a fork and a knife?”
He nodded but did not respond.
“A cat with a fork and a knife?” Zaine laughed, glancing to see if Anne and Cinda were listening, but the other two women were engrossed in their own discussion. Zaine turned back to Rew and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat using a fork and a knife, Ranger.”
“Exactly,” he said.
Blinking at him and shaking her head, Zaine raised her daggers again. “I hope using these isn’t half as complicated as holding them.”
He felt a small grin creep onto his lips before he tightened them and kept a straight face. He circled her, assessing her stance and her grip. She had a point. They’d spent close to an hour training, but so far, she’d done nothing but stand there and learn a few stances. One of his old instructors in Mordenhold, when Rew had been close to the girl’s age, had described it as the beginning of the dance before the music had begun to play. It was the kind of thing an old man told a young man, assuming that anything with a whiff of the opposite sex would catch the younger man’s interest. The instructor had not been wrong, and years later, Rew still recalled those lessons.
Rew grinned, but he supposed Zaine knew even less of dances than she did of fighting with daggers, so instead, he offered, “A few more minutes and then we’ll break for supper. It smells like Anne’s stew is nearly finished.”
Zaine nodded and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask whether there could possibly be any problems with her stance now, and if she was actually going to learn to fight.
“Attack me but move slowly,” instructed Rew. “We’re only working on the beginning motions, not on true sparring. Anne’s still mad at me about this morning, so I’d rather not end up with one of those blades stuck in my ribs and begging for her healing.”
Zaine snorted. “As she should be. No sparring, though? I’ve seen you fight, Ranger. There’s little risk of me putting steel into your ribs.”
He shook his head. “There’s always a chance. The most talented swordsman in the kingdom could lose to a straw-chewing farmer if the swordsman were to stumble at the wrong time, and if those two unleash something like they did before, stumbling is a real possibility.”
Grinning, Zaine glanced at where Anne was instructing Cinda on how to gather and release her magic. It seemed they’d moved back into theoretical exercises only, after a rather loud, frightening burst of sound and light had exploded from Cinda’s hands earlier.
Rew nodded to the thief, and Zaine stepped forward, extending her dagger ahead of her. The sharp point of steel was aimed at his chest, and Rew gently brushed her arm to the side and stepped around her guard. “See how easily I moved your arm? It’s because you didn’t put your weight behind the thrust. Don’t give me that look, I know it’s difficult at slow speed. This is about understanding the mechanics. Now, step forward with your leg, bend at the hip, and put your weight behind it.”
Zaine did, and Rew asked her to keep practicing. Stepping, lunge by lunge, across the campsite, the thief learned to deliver a blow with some force behind it, thrusting her daggers in front of her.
“Good, good,” said Rew. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to you about what is wrong with attacking like this and the risk of overextending.”
“What’s wrong with—“ spluttered Zaine. “Why would you tell me to do that if it’s going to get me killed? Pfah, I’m on the empath’s side, you know.”
Winking at her, Rew walked to their fire and squatted down, peering into the bubbling kettle of Anne’s stew. He declared, “It smells good.”
Behind him, the empath snorted. “You won’t find yourself out of this wilderness so easily, Ranger. It takes more than complimenting my cooking to break the bars on my jail cell door.”
“Oh,” said Rew, standing quickly. “I didn’t hear you walking up.”
“The King’s Ranger doesn’t hear two women walking across a forest floor?” Cinda laughed before plopping down on the other side of the fire. “Remarkable. And just so you know, I’m on her side.”
Rew put his hands on his hips, but the three women turned to pulling dishes out of packs, gathering utensils, discussing the day’s travel, and utterly ignoring him. He waited a moment, but none of them glanced his way, so he scooped out a heaping portion of Anne’s stew. It had been no lie. It smelled good, and he was famished.
They ate quietly, all consumed with their own thoughts, and it wasn’t long before they’d finished eating. Anne moved between the girls, placing her hand on their foreheads and whispering a quiet prayer over them. She was taking their pain, relieving the muscle aches and chafed skin caused by the day’s hike. Rew quietly cleaned the dishes as the girls sat a minute. Shortly, both of them crawled off to their bedrolls.
Once the two girls were wrapped up and breathing evenly, Anne raised her hand to Rew. “And you?”
He shook his head. “I’ll sleep well enough without your assistance, Anne.”
The empath smirked at him. “I offered.”
“Did they know you were going to put them to sleep, or did they think you merely offered healing?”
“I don’t know what they knew or did not know,” claimed Anne, her chin rising slightly.
“Ha,” said Rew, drying their bowls and spoons and tucking them away in the packs. “I thought not.”
“They need the rest,” stated Anne.
“That’s why I suggested we stop earlier this evening,” said Rew. “Those two aren’t strong enough. They’re chomping at the bit like a nobleman’s war horse, but they don’t have the stamina for a long, hurried journey. We have to take it easy, even if they resist it. We can’t wear them down in the first few days, and if you put them to sleep every night, it won’t be long before you’re exhausted as well.”
“Is Raif taking it easy?” argued Anne. “We have six days, right, before he makes it to Spinesend? That boy is a fighter, Rew. He’s going to walk
until he drops every night. We can’t catch him by coddling the girls.”
“That’s why I wanted to head out alone!” complained Rew. “I’ll have the lad back in two days if I go after him alone. What’s the sense in all of us going together?”
“We’re going together, and that’s final,” declared the empath. “Your job is to push us until we can no longer continue. I want to see them collapsed and unable to rise in the evenings. I’ll give them what healing they need, and I’ll put them to sleep when they need that. If they find out what I’m doing and complain, I’ll deal with it. If I wear down… I won’t. We have to stay together, and we have to keep going.”
“But why, Anne?” demanded Rew. “Tracking down quarry is what I do, whether it’s a beast in the wilderness or a lad off to get in trouble. Listen to my expertise. Let me get this done, and then we can take the children somewhere safe where they can ride out the Investiture.”
“We stay together,” insisted Anne.
He frowned at her.
Anne shook her head and looked at the two girls who were softly snoring in their bedrolls. “I yelled at you this morning, Rew, because they need to be involved, and everything you do is an attempt to keep them out of it. This journey is not simply about the King’s Ranger tracking down an errant noble. It is about a girl trying to find her brother and a thief trying to find redemption. We are not doing this because it is easy, but because it is necessary.”
Rew rubbed the top of his head, feeling the tight stubble there. “I don’t understand.”
“Last night, before I fell asleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’ve said,” replied Anne. “All day today, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You said Alsayer told you there was power in the blood, that when the bloodlines are crossed in the right manner, the child was always stronger than the parent? You said he told you to keep the children alive, and that he’d be coming back for them?”
Rew did not respond.
“They have to be ready when that happens,” said Anne. She gestured to the two sleeping girls. “It’s as plain as sunrise they aren’t ready now. We must train them so they’re physically capable of meeting the coming threats. We must encourage them so they’re mentally prepared. That is why you cannot go alone, because we have to show them how to survive. We have to teach them that they can. Their parents are gone, Rew. The onus is on us.”
“On us!” exclaimed Rew. “They’re not our children, Anne!”
She smiled at him. “They are now, Senior Ranger.”
He spluttered, flabbergasted at the statement.
Anne reached behind her and opened her pack. “I got you something in the market when we were supposed to be packing for the trip to Eastwatch.” She pulled out a brown, glass flask and tossed it to him. “It’s a spirit from south of Spinesend, where they breed all of the horses. It’s distilled from corn and aged in barrels, the vendor told me. The stuff smells like fire, but he was selling it for gold. I figured at that price, it had to be good.”
Rew held up the glass flask and watched the firelight flicker through the liquid.
“Have some,” encouraged Anne.
“I thought I wasn’t going to find an easy way out of the jail cell of your heart—or whatever ridiculous thing it was that you said,” muttered Rew.
“Listen to me when it comes to the children, and you will,” suggested Anne. “What’s happening with them is important, Rew. I can feel it.”
He uncorked the top to the flask and sniffed the liquid inside. “You can feel it?”
Anne nodded. “When an empath heals a person, there’s a connection. I can sense something of the patient through that connection for a time, even when the healing is finished. With these children, I can feel the maelstrom swirling around them. It’s like a giant, spinning tidal wave swooping out from Mordenhold and washing over this kingdom. The Investiture has caught them in its fury. I don’t feel that power around myself, and it’s not bestirring the natural balance in this part of the world. It’s directed, Rew. Someone, the king or the princes, is making sure they sweep up these children in this madness. They’re tied inexorably to the Investiture, and through them, I am as well.”
Rew grunted and did not respond.
“Damnit, Ranger!” snapped Anne. “That’s why you’ve been refusing my healing, isn’t it? That’s why you only let me look at your injuries after the fight with the thieves. Not enough time to heal you, you’d said! Pfah! Why did I listen to that?”
Raising the flask to his lips, Rew took a sip and let the spirit burn down his throat.
Anne stood. “I’ll heal you now. Your aches after a day of hiking along the highway will be a feather-light burden for me, and I’ve plenty of time to recover tonight.”
“No, Anne, I… ah—“
“You don’t want me to feel the Investiture’s pull on you,” stated Anne, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring down at him. “Why?”
Rew sat silently, sipping the liquor she’d given him, wondering how much he should tell her.
“Tell me, or you really will be in trouble,” she threatened.
He twisted his lips and then forced the cork stopper back into the flask. “I can’t tell you everything, Anne. I would, but it’s not… I cannot. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me what you can,” she insisted, sitting back down on the other side of the fire.
He sighed and admitted, “I can feel the pull of the current from Mordenhold as well. It’s like ropes wrapped around my soul, trying to drag me in. I’ve fought it, and I’ll keep fighting it, but eventually I will break. It’s the way it is. Everyone breaks.”
“I don’t understand,” said Anne.
“The pull you feel is the king’s magic,” said Rew. “Vaisius Morden, Eighth of the Name, is at the center of that whirlpool. He’s cast it out across all of Vaeldon, and those with noble blood, the others he means to ensnare in his mad game, will feel the relentless tug. Some may avoid it for a time if they understand what is happening. Others will be too weak or ignorant. Even more people, sadly, won’t want to avoid the pull. They’ve been preparing for years awaiting this call.”
“T-The king…” stammered Anne. “The king is the one pulling on these children?”
Rew shook his head. “Not exactly. The king cast the spell, but I worry one of his sons perverted it. I believe it is the princes who are trying to get their talons into the children.”
“How is that possible?” wondered Anne.
“It’s the way the blood flows,” responded Rew. “The child is always stronger than the parent. The king is the one casting the spell, but at least one of the princes has figured out a way to manipulate the current of that magic. What you feel through the children is the king’s might. How it found the Fedgleys… that was a prince.”
“Prince Valchon, you think?” asked Anne. “He’s the one Alsayer is working for.”
“Alsayer said he was working for Valchon,” replied Rew, “which means he probably isn’t. Baron Fedgley thought that’s who the two of them were working for, and maybe the baron really was, but Fedgley has never met Prince Valchon and certainly never discussed Alsayer with the prince. Whatever that spellcaster was doing, he did for his own purposes.”
“Fedgley hasn’t met Valchon?” asked Anne.
“Fedgley hasn’t left this duchy in a decade, and none of the princes have entered it,” said Rew.
“How can you know that?” questioned Anne.
“I just know,” said Rew, meeting her gaze over their fading fire.
“Why would the princes want anything to do with the children?”
“The strength of the blood is always stronger with the child,” said Rew. “Alsayer claimed Fedgley was the most powerful necromancer outside of the royal line, which means Cinda could have even greater potential. Either one would be a highly valuable ally during the Investiture, but I suspect there is more to it. It’s a guess, only, and my suspicion is what I cannot share. I am sorry, Anne, but it
is for the best. One thing we can be sure of, the princes will want the girl, and what they want is not what we want.”
Grim-faced, Anne glanced at the sleeping girl. “So the pull I feel through our connection is one of the princes using the king’s power to reel her in, in case her father fails at whatever task they’ve planned? Or perhaps it’s a rival prince trying to counteract what her father may do?”
Rew nodded. “It could be either one or both, I suppose. The pull of the Investiture is natural magic, ancient magic. It’s older. It is before what we call high or low. The net that was cast across Vaeldon by the king is undirected. It’s a current that will swallow thousands, but it’s rare the king would direct it at an individual. That’s not the way natural magic flows. The Investiture draws like a whirlpool into the center. Not a geographical center, mind you, but the center of the conflict. It catches those with an affinity for it. I’m not sure it would have found the children unless the princes corrupted the spell.”
“Which prince?” asked Anne.
Rew shrugged. “The only way to find out would be to follow the pull, which I think we both agree is inadvisable.”
“And Raif, why him?” asked Anne. “The boy has no high magic.”
“Maybe they don’t know that,” guessed Rew. “Or maybe they want him for leverage over his family. People do strange things to protect their families.”
They sat for a moment. There was nothing more that he was willing to say, and she seemed to understand that. She asked him, “You’ll take the first watch?”
He nodded, and Anne crawled to her bedroll.
The fire popped and crackled. Rew sat before it, his senses unconsciously extended, monitoring the area around them, his mind churning with confused, frustrated thoughts. He let his attention float, following the current of power that swirled over Vaeldon. He knew its source, but he couldn’t find it. He didn’t have the skill necessary for such a thing, but regardless, he lost himself in the waves of silent urgency as he mulled over their situation. Come dawn, he was still sitting in the same place. At the first blush of daylight, he stood, his muscles and joints protesting, his body aching like he’d aged ten years throughout the night.