Ranger Rising: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 1 (Ranger Series)

by Salvador Mercer

  About another mile upstream, he came across some packs and gear that had washed ashore. He rummaged about and managed to secure some dry beef and an empty canteen. The pack stayed afloat as it carried a few empty flasks that gave it some buoyancy. He moved on further with apprehension, not knowing what he was likely to find. Much to his surprise, he happened finally onto a small group of brigands. Three in total, two quite dead and the third barely breathing, but this one he recognized. It was Dorsun, who was on the lead raft when they had crossed, but now he was sitting with his back to a boulder facing the river. The other two lay near the water, one face up, the other facedown, arrows and bolts sticking from their torsos. Dorsun had a nasty arrow still sticking from his abdomen and several bloody cuts and bruises along his knuckles and hands as if they were sliced while trying to claw his way out of the raging river. Suddenly, the chieftain’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “Master?” he said, barely audible as he gasped for air and then was taken by a fit of coughing.

  “I am here, Dorsun. Can you hear me?” Khan asked, as Dorsun’s eyelids had just as quickly fluttered shut again.

  “You live,” Dorsun gasped, spitting blood onto his lips. “Did you kill them?”

  Khan was surprised to find anyone alive, but also elated that he was not alone. Quickly, that feeling left him as it dawned on him Ke-Tor had marked him for elimination. He didn’t think Dorsun could know anything of the matter that had transpired after Dorsun was injured, but he also felt suspicion creep into his mind. Dorsun was a lieutenant of the Bloody Hand Company, and the actual leader of half the patrols he had led to, what appeared to be, their doom at the hands of a wild bear and Ulathan rebels. Khan thought carefully before speaking. “No, Dorsun. Most of the Ulathans escaped, and we lost most of our company. We are scattered and lost. Whom do you serve?” Khan asked the last question quite pointedly.

  Dorsun appeared to be more alive than Khan first thought as the brigand’s eyes opened wide and a frown came across his face, followed by a grimace of pain, before the man finally spoke. “I serve Kesh, Master . . . and you.”

  Khan thought for a moment and then stood and took a stride over to the dead corpse of one of the other brigands, pulling a dagger from his belt as he did so. Turning to face Dorsun, he squatted next to the large brigand who was wheezing laboriously. Khan held the dagger across the other man’s throat. It would be a mercy to kill him now, to relieve the man from his pain. To Dorsun’s credit, the man held still, and despite his weakened state, he looked Khan right in the eyes. “If you had to make a choice, Dorsun, between serving Kesh or serving me, what would you decide?” Khan didn’t think this was a very fair question considering the other man’s circumstances, but he needed to make a decision soon.

  “I serve you both,” Dorsun finally said softly, trying hard not to start another spasm of coughing, which was no doubt painful. “I serve you, Master, and you serve Kesh.”

  Khan steeled himself for what was to come next. “I no longer serve Kesh, Dorsun. Do you understand me? I serve only myself.” Khan paused to allow his comments to sink in and give Dorsun the dignity to respond. He fully expected the man to reject this notion of a rogue wizard repudiating his own order, the most powerful order in all of Agon. No, better to be dead than to be a renegade hunted by wizards and Arch-Mages.

  Dorsun attempted to look around at his surroundings. Khan thought that maybe the man saw the questioning as a trap. When he did answer, Khan was slightly surprised. “Do with me as you will, Master, but if allowed, I will serve Khan, not Kesh.”

  Khan looked intently at the man for any signs of sarcasm or deceit. He remembered the man’s concerns about raiding in the Earlstyne Forest, and he knew Dorsun was a veteran of many campaigns and raids and had managed to survive them all. Dorsun’s life hung in the balance, and it could teeter in either direction. Finally, and mostly due in large part to the merciful side of Khan, the blade was tucked into the wizard’s belt and Khan pulled one of his blue orbs from his necklace, leaving a lone Talaman hanging there. He gently placed the small pearl-like pill to Dorsun’s lips. “Swallow this, quickly!” Khan ordered.

  Dorsun took the small orb and swallowed it, which brought on another fit of coughing, and Khan saw the man grimace in pain. Khan did not know how far gone Dorsun was, but he hoped the Talaman would save his life. Khan stood for a long while and waited patiently but alertly as his eyes darted to and fro, spending most of their time on the forest and keeping a watch on Dorsun. Soon, Dorsun began to respond, moving a bit, and the fits of coughing died off. Khan saw the color start to return to the man’s face. “This is going to hurt. Try not to scream,” Khan stated, leaning over and grabbing the arrow shaft in his right hand while pushing on the man’s abdomen with his left.

  “Argh.” Dorsun stifled the words as he brought his leather-clad arm up to his mouth. The arrow came out with a pulse of bright red blood, and Khan quickly grabbed a strip of cloth from his cloak’s hem and placed it over the brigand’s wound.

  “Hold this,” Khan said, and Dorsun put pressure on his own wound to staunch the bleeding. Khan left the man where he lay and proceeded to drag the bodies of the other two brigands over to the flattest spot he could find near the river. Khan wasn’t overly joyed at his task, but he searched the bodies of the two, and, retrieving what he could that was beneficial, he started to collect large rocks and lay them over the bodies, creating a cairn.

  When he had finished, he started to feel the exertion of his efforts. It would be midday soon, and his Talaman was quickly wearing off. Before the effects left him completely, he wanted to finish the most strenuous of his work. He gathered what wood he could, though nothing was completely dry, and started a small fire at the edge of the forest not far from where Dorsun rested. He used a small amount of black oil and one of the brigand’s flint sticks to ignite it. Sure that it would not go out, Khan walked over to where Dorsun sat almost in a state of sleep except for the fact that the man opened his eyes without moving any part of his body and just looked at Khan.

  “Come on, man. Up you go,” Khan said, offering a hand.

  Dorsun took Khan’s arm, hands grasping each other’s elbows, and Khan hefted the man onto his feet, escorting him over to the small fire and setting him back-first against the nearest tree to the fire. Dorsun looked up at Khan, weak but obviously feeling better from the smaller dose of the Talaman that had been given to him. “Thank you, Master.”

  “Please, from now on I go by my name only. Agreed?” Khan replied, wrapping his own cloak around Dorsun’s shoulders.

  “Agreed . . . Khan,” Dorsun said unfamiliarly, trying the moniker on for size, so to speak. “Why did you help me?”

  Khan looked at the freshly made cairn where two of his brigands lay never to see the dragon’s fire again. Finally, Khan looked back to Dorsun intently and sighed before speaking. “Frankly, it was still a selfish act. I am alone, and my own mentor turned on me.” This got a look of surprise from Dorsun’s face as the news sunk in to the brigand lieutenant. “We have somewhat of a history together, and I personally chose you to lead my half company as I trusted your expertise and loyalty. Now loyalty can be not only a virtue but a vice as well to me. The only way for me to be accepted back into Kesh society is to kill my master, Ke-Tor. Do you understand my situation?”

  Dorsun nodded and looked into the fire. “So the dagger finally came for you . . . Khan.”

  “Yes, but it was actually a sword. The damn coward couldn’t do the deed himself.”

  “Who?” Dorsun asked, looking at Khan intently.

  “He had Gund do it, though for all I know it could have been you. Gund just so happened to be one of the few swords around,” Khan stated, looking suspiciously back at Dorsun.

  “No, Master . . . uh . . . Khan. I would never do such a deed, though many of us would relish the act. Not for him and not for you. On my word I tell you this. Gund was one of your
master’s servants, not a true servant of Kesh.”

  “I believe you,” Khan replied, at last the look on his face softening as he looked around the forest, “but nonetheless, a wizard is most vulnerable when alone and unprepared. I now find myself in just such a situation. I need your help, and you can’t help me if you die here on the riverbank as your companions did.”

  Dorsun allowed the words to linger a bit before answering, as if mulling over how to respond. “Khan. You saved my life where most others would have left me to my fate. You know our order best, and the life of a single Kesh is not valued much. I am sure it cost you dearly to use your powers on preserving my life, and for that, I am grateful. I will serve Kesh by serving you.”

  Khan looked at him intently. “You understand what that means? We are both likely to die soon, anyway, but before we do, I plan on doing as much as I can to make Ke-Tor pay for his betrayal. Things must change. We are too weak to continue this way. Kesh will perish eventually, despite the High-Mage’s machinations and plotting against the other realms. I do not know the way, but the events of the last few years, and especially yesterday, have shown me our society and my own order in a new light. I intend to do something about this and am glad to have you with me.”

  The two men sat in silence and thought upon the events leading to their predicament. Khan had made a fateful decision to save Dorsun, and little did he know, it would change the course of his life forever.

  Targon returned much later than he had wanted to. The sun was waning in the west, and he labored under burden. He had managed to kill a buck, and carried it over his shoulders back to his home. He had to travel far, almost to the shadow of the mountains, to find it. He knew a few conies wouldn’t feed so many mouths. Finally, after much effort, he arrived through the strange new trees to see the rear of his house. Marissa looked up from the garden area where she was planting something and waved him over.

  “Good afternoon, Marissa,” Targon said, walking over and setting the buck down on the ground, stretching his arms and rotating his shoulders for good measure.

  “Hoi, Master Targon,” she said, her mood much alleviated from the morning. “Looks like a mighty fine deer you have there. Is that for us?”

  “Of course. Do you know how to skin and butcher an animal?” he asked.

  “Not really. My father and brother could skin, and mother oftentimes cut the meat, but I spent more of my time drying the pieces she gave me in our smoke shed.”

  “Sounds like you know how to preserve the meat, then, and jerk it. I am not sure we will have much left after long, but it’s a good skill to have nevertheless. Here, help me carry it ’round to the front, and let’s see what the others are up to.”

  “Yes, and you can talk to Lady Salina, too!” Marissa replied, smiling.

  “Is she better, then?” Targon asked.

  “Much! She even managed to come out to the porch earlier for some fresh air. She asked about you, you know.”

  “Really? Well, that is great news. Yes, indeed, let’s see how she’s doing,” Targon replied, thinking he understood the young girl’s mood change now that Lady Salina’s condition was explained to him.

  Soon, they had come around the front, and Targon couldn’t say he was surprised to see both little Jons and Horace pointing crossbows at him. Olga and Agatha came out and admired the catch and started at once to hang the buck and get started on the butchering. Targon was invited inside, and everyone was abuzz about the news of Lady Salina’s recovery. Targon heard Agatha barking orders to have someone help grab some wood and make poles of them to hang the buck on as he entered the cabin.

  “It is good to see you, my lady!” Targon exclaimed, looking her over and seeing Monique was brushing her hair with his mother’s crude brush. Apparently, someone had found one of his mother’s simple dresses for Salina to wear. The contrast was remarkable compared to her more elegant blue dress she had worn previously. Her garb now was a simple light brown, almost khaki in color, with small, light-colored flowering embroidered here and there on the dress.

  Karz sat at his mother’s feet and looked up at Targon as he entered the room. Salina did not respond at first, instead standing on her feet, surprising everyone in the room. Celeste rushed to her side, and Monique grabbed the lady’s arm to steady her. Salina took a few steps toward Targon and then embraced him in a long, deep hug. “I heard what you did for me,” she practically whispered in his ear.

  Targon embraced her in return but released the deep embrace to grab her by her shoulders and lean back so he could see her face clearly. “I did nothing nearly as brave as what you did for us, my lady.”

  Salina smiled, as she was flanked still by Monique and Celeste, and also held Targon now by his shoulders. “What I did was necessary. My boys were involved, but they both told me how you carried me for nearly half a day and saved my life, and for that, I am most grateful.”

  Targon somewhat blushed. “In truth, the old man of the forest, Elister is his name, did more for you than I did.”

  “There would have been nothing for the kind gentleman to do if you hadn’t have gotten me here in time. Again, thank you, Targon.”

  Targon was about to reply when that screeching cat voice was heard from the doorway. “By the daughter’s moons of Agon, what are you doing standing there?” Agatha screeched at Salina. “And you, Master Targon, making an ill woman stand to greet you! How rude! Put her down this instant and quit smooching on all the ladies you meet!”

  Targon stuttered, seeking a response, and turned a brighter shade of red, but Salina interjected. “Now, Agatha, I stood on my own and embraced my hero. The decision was mine and mine alone, and we were only embracing, no smooching . . . I am a married woman, so how dare you accuse me of smooching!” Salina winked at Targon in mock offense, turning to replace the wink and smile with a scowl as she looked at Agatha intently.

  Agatha tried to wave her off as she approached and took Salina’s arm, replacing Monique and shooing her back. “Now, my lady, you know I didn’t mean you no offense. I was directing my comments at young master Terrel, as he is called around here, and didn’t want him smooching and making you stand and all, seeing as you’re sick, and were near death not long ago when . . .”

  “Enough!” Celeste practically screamed. “Give the lady’s ear a rest, will you!” And she started to guide Salina back to her chair. Monique was now smiling and holding her hand across her mouth to hide her giggles while Karz simply didn’t care but was beaming from ear to ear just happy to see his mother up and about. Agatha harrumphed and took a deep breath but said nothing and just helped the lady to sit.

  “It’s good to see you up and about,” Targon finally said.

  “Good to see you, too,” Salina responded. “Again, thank you, and not only for what you did for me, but for allowing all us . . . city folk into your home. We must be a terrible burden for you, especially with your family missing.”

  Assured that Salina was comfortable and sitting, Agatha gave Targon a swift glance and exited the room to oversee the butchering of the buck. Celeste hesitantly stepped back and sat on a chair near the table while Karz sat at his mother’s feet.

  “May I continue, my lady?” Monique asked with the brush held over Salina’s head.

  “Please do, and thanks, I felt like a bird had made a nest in my hair.” Salina chuckled. Monique continued to brush her hair, and Celeste spoke softly from her seat. “Yes, Mister Targon. Thank you for taking us in, and I am sure the lady and I speak on everyone’s behalf.”

  Targon waved them off. “This is the least I can do. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Speaking of which, has anyone seen the old man? Elister is his name.”

  “I woke not long after you left, but no, I’m afraid there has been no sign of him yet. I do hope he returns soon, though. I’d like to thank him personally as well, for his aid and kindness in my time of need,” Salina said.r />
  “Well, he said it would be a while, so I won’t worry till morning, but I agree with you that it would be nice to see him again. I have a few questions of my own to ask him.”

  “I’m sure you do. We all do,” Salina responded with a gleam in her eye. Targon smiled and left the room to wait for the old man’s return. At least we are eating, he thought to himself. Oh, and no one has died yet. Not since Sarson in the old crevice. They may actually live longer than he had hoped. Hope. The one thing he wanted and the one thing they needed. Targon desperately missed his family.

  Ke-Tor was tired of riding. Am-Ohkre led them at a blistering pace after losing nearly two days in Korwell, and they had traveled cross country almost due east from the capital. They came across no survivors and were debating on whether to stop and camp for the night or continue on in the darkness. One horse was already limping, having cut its leg on a sharp rock when they had crossed a small brook in haste earlier in the day. Occasionally, Am-Ohkre would stop to peer into his Orb of Seeing, or critir, and adjust their course accordingly.

  This was frustrating to know the Arch-Mage could so easily manipulate the orb. It took Ke-Tor considerable effort and time to direct the orb to show him what he wanted to see, and now the Arch-Mage was peering into his critir as if it were some picture window and not a powerful tool of magic. Such was the ease of which Am-Ohkre mastered the orb. Finally, at a suitable place, the Mage ordered them to prepare their camp.

  Within an hour, all the tents were set up and the appropriate sentries posted. Ke-Tor was summoned from his own small tent to the larger tent of Am-Ohkre. Another slight, thought the wizard.