Rise of the Ranger (Echoes of Fate: Book 1)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “I know, I can recall the stories you told me word for word, but that’s all they are to me, stories. Even the dragons are just paintings on a wall.”

  “We will soon bring those stories to life. You have a great part to play in freeing this world, Reyna.” Faylen held the princess close, tucking Reyna’s blonde hair behind her shoulders. “And I will be there, by your side, every step of the way.” She placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now practise...”

  Faylen fastened her robe tight around her waist, as she stepped onto the first rung. The rain came through the hatch, creating puddles under the ladder and making the rungs slippery.

  Lavo Weis.

  As the ancient words formed in her mind, the rain flowed over and around her body, keeping her dry.

  From the top deck, the ship appeared to move like a seesaw from stern to bow. The white sails were taught in their rigging, full with the ferocious winds. The elf walked across the decking, towards the platform at the bow of the ship, pausing briefly to observe the storm off the port side. Everything to the south was blanketed by the dark clouds and relentless rain. Looking starboard, to the north, Faylen could see stars twinkling on the horizon, free of the storm.

  “A beautiful night in Dhenaheim, it seems,” Mörygan announced from the platform above her. He didn’t have to shout over the wind and rain, with Faylen’s sensitive ears easily picking up his every word.

  “Yes, a pity it’s wasted on a race that prefers to live underground...” she replied, referring to the reclusive dwarves.

  Mörygan stood as a sentinel behind the wheel of the ship. Faylen could feel the magical will he exerted across the various rigging, as well as the barrier he had erected around himself, as she had done. What should have taken the skills of a dozen sailors was being performed by Mörygan alone. He directed the wind into the sails and telekinetically manipulated the rigging and sheets, pushing the ship on with as much magical assistance as he could muster.

  His shoulder-length black hair was tied in a ponytail that met his long, black and blue robes. Many of his fingers were adorned with rings that harnessed wells of magic inside their crystals.

  “Reyna has made more Seabreath for us.” Faylen offered the vial ,but Mörygan didn’t take it.

  “You mean you have made more Seabreath?” Mörygan raised an eyebrow. “She is yet to make a single batch that has the desired effect.”

  Faylen could hear the criticism in his voice and it made her blood boil. “She is trying, Mörygan.”

  “She is twenty-seven years of age. Her years of trying should be behind her.” An almost imperceptible nod of his head was all he gave in his efforts to steer the ship further north, away from the storm.

  “Her magic is coming along.” Faylen looked out to sea, not wanting to make eye contact. “She has accomplished more than I did at her age.”

  “We both know that’s a lie,” Mörygan countered. “Her magical abilities might put her ahead of any human, but she is still a child of the arts by our reckoning.” His cold, grey eyes rested on Faylen. “We all have an important task to undertake. But never forget that it is just us out here. When that line is finally crossed, we three will be well and truly stuck behind enemy lines. We will have to rely on each other’s strengths if we are to see the new dawn.”

  Faylen sighed. “Couldn’t we have brought someone else? We could have just told them I was the princess.”

  “The humans are the masters of lies, we couldn’t take the chance. Besides, this is an opportunity for Reyna. She might even redeem her mother’s cowardice.”

  The irony of who the real liers were wasn't lost on Faylen, but her focus was required on not rising to Mörygan’s comment. Had it been anyone else she would have challenged them right there and then, but there was a reason Mörygan never carried a sword - he didn’t need one. Instead, Faylen settled with giving him a glare that would kill most elves.

  “Come now,” he continued. “You and I both know Adilandra will never return, along with the others that followed her on that pointless pilgrimage.”

  Movement on the port side of the ship caught their attention. Ölli sat on the railing, watching them with his large black eyes. The rain moved around the bird as it did them, and Faylen immediately looked round for any sign of Reyna on the deck. The princess had obviously put the spell on the owl, to allow him some time in the air, but Faylen was more concerned with anything Reyna might have overheard.

  “I would be more concerned with us returning...”

  Chapter Six

  The Hunted

  In the void between realities, Adilandra watched Faylen and Mörygan through the eyes of Ölli, the white owl. The animal’s keen eyes and ears the perfect way to watch over her daughter. The elf couldn’t feel her own body or the environment in which she sat, but she could smell The Adean and hear its mighty waves rage over a thousand miles away.

  She trusted Faylen with Reyna’s life, but it churned her stomach to think of Mörygan Mörgö as one of her guardians. He wasn’t an elf to be trusted in Adilandra’s opinion, in fact, the entire Mörgö family wasn’t to be trusted. During the Dark War, more than one in their bloodline had been tried and found guilty of sympathising and spying for Valanis. She had always found it hard to believe that her husband had allowed the Mörgö’s to claw their way back up the hierarchy.

  “Adilandra!” Her name was called from the ether by a familiar voice, full of fear.

  The elf released the owl from her spell and allowed her consciousness to be pulled back into her own mind. Her eyes reverted back to her normal shade of blue, having appeared completely black for her time possessing Ölli. As her mind snapped back, so too did her body’s senses, informing her of the damp jungle ground on which she sat, and the close humid atmosphere that clung to her body like a parasite.

  “Adilandra, they’ve found us!” She followed the hand on her shoulder to the terrified face of Fallön. “The Darkakin have found us. We have to go, now!” The scar that ran from his forehead down to his right eye crinkled under an expression of desperation.

  In the distance, her elvish ears picked up the sound of barking dogs and rustling trees, as the band of human savages closed in. Fallön helped Adilandra up and passed her the large pack that she immediately slung over her back. Over the last four years her body had become accustomed to its bulk and weight. To her left, Ederön and Lörvana hefted their own packs and ran further into the jungle, away from the barking dogs.

  Close behind them, Adilandra and Fallön rushed through the giant leaves that hung limply from low branches. Their superior speed gave them the advantage over the humans, but in the jungle it only proved to work against the elves. Ederön fell over a root in front of them and skidded across the ground.

  “Keep going!” Adilandra shouted to Fallön and Lörvana. She quickly knelt down to help Ederön up, abandoning the small book that slipped from his pack.

  The barking was soon accompanied by the rapid patter of paws. They had let the dogs go. Adilandra and Ederön met each other’s eyes briefly, before turning to run as fast as possible. The fear of what was coming pushed them past logical thought and the danger their speed presented. They soon caught up with Fallön and Lörvana who were cutting their way through a thicket of plants. Their elvish swords appeared dull under the jungle canopy, though Adilandra could still make out the ornate runes that decorated each blade.

  “This is too slow!” Ederön looked back at the way they had come.

  They could all hear the banshee-like cries from the Darkakin in the distance. Adilandra could see the fear on all of their faces, the desperation that had robbed them of hope years ago.

  “We have to go up!” Adilandra deftly hopped from one tree to another, gaining height as she did, until the elf was almost at canopy level. The others followed her, as they always had, and jumped up the nearest tree using their unique sense of balance to move from one to the next.

  When the ground cleared, all four elves found their wa
y down and continued to run for their lives. If the Darkakin caught them… Adilandra knew it was better to die fighting them than to be taken prisoner.

  They ran for another hour when the first glimpses of dawn could be seen piercing the canopy. The hunters on their heels had lost their tracks in the trees and had no doubt been slowed by the ever increasing thickness of the jungle. The elves stopped to catch their breath, some leaning against a tree, others simply falling to the ground in exhaustion.

  “They’ve been hunting us for seven months...” Lörvana slid down to the ground, her auburn hair matted around her face in sweat. “What evil drives them so?”

  “What do you expect?” Ederön nursed his sore knee. “They are human after all. Wickedness is the foundation of their nature, they know no other way.”

  Adilandra winced at Ederön’s tone. Ever since they encountered the Darkakin two years ago, his hate for humanity had festered and grown. It was becoming harder to disagree with him though; the Darkakin had killed five of their expedition and captured two alive. Adilandra didn’t like to think about the two captives. After five months of tracking them down, one was still missing; sold to another tribe, never to be found, and the other had been publicly tortured to death in one of the bigger camps. The four of them had been forced to watch, no match against a whole mob of Darkakin. After four years they were the only ones left to continue with their self-appointed mission into the uncharted lands, in the south of Ayda.

  “They are the worst of mankind, but do not blanket their whole race with your hate, Ederön.” It was Fallön who still had the strength to speak up. Adilandra looked at him fondly and knew she couldn’t have got this far without his support. “Hate is what turned our own kind from the path. We few must remember what it is to be an elf. For too long have we plotted against the humans, against all of Illian. The humans lost their way because we let them. The gods charged us with teaching them and we abandoned them when they needed our wisdom most. So many elves blame the humans for what they did to the dragons, but the fault lies with us. Had we stayed in Illian we could have prevented the Dragon War and kept peace. More than that, we could have ensured that Valanis remained locked away inside Elethiah, forever. Now we’re half a world away, grasping at hope...”

  Adilandra could hear the strength of his convictions leaving him. Their bleak surroundings and dire situation was enough to rid any elf of hope, especially when they had seen all their friends and lovers cut down by savages.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Lörvana asked through laboured breaths, “how many of those speeches have you got stored away?” The group smiled for the first time in days and relaxed for a moment.

  “I don’t care what you say, Fallön,” Ederön had finished the healing spell on his knee, “we cannot be blamed for the Darkakin. They came out of the Wild Moores that twisted.”

  Fallön traced the edge of the scar across his face. “I can’t argue with that.”

  They looked to Adilandra, as they had when they first came across the Darkakin. She was the only one old enough to remember the humans when they first emerged from unknown lands. Despite the millennia of time that lay between now and then, the elf still recalled the bloody battles that took place. Some of the human tribes had been happy to be taken in by the elves, eager to learn more about the world and their place in it. But there were many who came out of the Wild Moores hungry for war with the first thing they saw. Having just pulled through the biggest war in elven history, against Valanis, the elven nation was tired of fighting and killing, and barely managed to push the Darkakin back, driving them south of the Arid Lands.

  In the centuries’ left to themselves, the Darkakin had swelled in size, growing into an empire that spanned a continent. The evil humans had found land that connected Illian to Ayda, west to east, and spread across Verda like a disease, conquering everything in their path. Since arriving in their land, the elves had heard rumours of The Goddess that apparently ruled the Darkakin. Whoever this woman was, Adilandra couldn’t imagine what it would take to govern such a people.

  “We should just be thankful they are content with the southern lands.” Adilandra didn’t want to recall the past in all its bloody detail.

  “I can’t believe they even found a way into Ayda.” Lörvana removed some bread from her pack and shared it out. “How did we not know there was land between the two continents?”

  “We’ve never travelled south of the Lifeless Isles before.” Ederön was clearly upset that they were the first to have done so. Adilandra could feel the anger bubbling over in Ederön, as it always did after a close encounter with the Darkakin. “This is a fool’s errand!” He always started the same way. “We’ve been journeying south for four years with nothing but blood to show for it. As if crossing The Flat Wastes wasn’t hard enough, we’ve found nothing but legends and drawings on cave walls since we set out. I’m just saying what we’ve all been thinking. We will never find the last of the dragons...”

  Adilandra moved to sit next to Ederön and took his hand in hers. “Have faith, Ederön. I just need a little more strength to see our journey through, we’re close now, I can feel it. You were only a child when the dragons left the Lifeless Isles, but I remember it as though it were yesterday. When all was lost, Rainael the emerald star gathered the last of her kind and flew east. We followed them to Ayda soon after, and from there I watched them leave Mount Garganafan, travelling south. The legends and drawings simply prove that they came this way.

  The Darkakin were scattered across Illian as tribes back then, they could not bring down the dragons. They’re here somewhere.” Adilandra could see the doubt that still lingered on Ederön’s face. “Think on the prophecy. Feel Nalana’s words in your bones and you will know them to be true. We don’t have the time my husband thinks we do - his plan will take years, maybe centuries to bear fruition. Valanis will be freed before then, I know it. If Valanis breaks free of the Amber spell he will consume the world. Finding Rainael and the others is our only chance...”

  Ederön squeezed her hand and managed a faint smile. “We will not let the world fall to ruin.”

  A snapping twig was the only sound that preceded the twang of a bow and an arrow dove into Ederön’s ribs. Adilandra felt the force of the impact in Ederön’s hand, as he clenched and screamed with pain. The trees around them exploded into chaos with a dozen Darkakin bursting from the jungle. Their bodies were painted from head to toe in tribal tattoos and white paint smeared across their faces. If they weren't bald they had black hair matted into long dreadlocks. The bones of smaller animals, as well as human, decorated their primitive armour like spikes, while other bones pierced their skin, decoratively.

  The elves drew their swords and staggered into the middle of the opening, ready to fight back-to-back. The Darkakin hunters wore loose wooden armour that exposed most of their body. Having fought them before, Adilandra knew the Darkakin weren’t trained to be defensive fighters - their style was pure aggression. The humans attacked furiously with serrated spears and swords, moving like wild cats and jumping into the elves protective circle.

  Adilandra deflected a spear and cut off another’s arm in the process, before ducking under a slicing sword attack. Fallön and Lörvana danced around each other, cutting down two Darkakin with perfect symmetry.

  “No!” Adilandra caught sight of two more Darkakin coming from the jungle and dragging Ederön away. He was too weak to fight them off with the arrow protruding from his ribs.

  Lörvana screamed to Adilandra’s right, with an arrow in her leg and several cuts across her body. The largest of the Darkakin band strode through and clubbed Lörvana across the face with the end of his mace. The elf dropped to the ground in silence. Fallön, enraged, charged at the large human with his sword held high. Adilandra could see Fallön’s surroundings better than he could, and knew the elf would never get close enough to strike. Four Darkakin tackled him to the ground and beat him until he stopped moving.

  Adilandra def
lected two more attacks and killed another with a clean slice, separating the wild woman’s torso from her legs. The elf stood, exhausted in the jungle heat and bleeding from various points across her body. She was surrounded by savages eager to rip her to pieces. They slowly closed in with the big one in the lead. Adilandra took a deep breath and gripped her sword with both hands. The only sound was the blood rushing through her ears.

  She wasn’t going to die here.

  “I have to save us… I have to save us all.” The words barely left her lips she was so tired.

  The large one smiled cruelly, revealing his filthy teeth, sharpened to points. Before Adilandra could take her next breath, she was assaulted from behind. The pain in the back of her head was fleeting compared to the speed with which she lost consciousness.

  Chapter Seven

  Korkanath

  The ageing auditorium was the oldest structure within Korkanath’s grounds. The stone floor had been transferred slab for slab from King Tion’s own fortress in Namdhor, centuries ago, where the first king had been taught by the earliest mages. The dark, red surface was engraved with traditional training circles that overlapped and grew in size from the epicentre, each lined in ancient runes and elvish words. With no windows, the auditorium was illuminated by dozens of floating orbs that rested inside the domed ceiling, bringing to light the encircling sculpture that depicted the final battle of the Dragon War.

  Gideon Thorn stood in the centre of the large room and scrutinised the portraits of the Magikars that lined the walls. Each wizard had ruled Korkanath through the ages, passing on their wisdom, counselling kings and queens and experimenting with new magic. Of course, all Gideon took from the paintings was an ensemble of old men with bushy white beards and ridiculous hats. They had sat in their comfy chairs behind Korkanath’s high walls and grown fat off the work of other mages, sent out into the world to do nothing but please and serve the rich. Gideon refused to follow their example. He had his sights set on a life of adventure and mystery, with matters of life and death an everyday occurrence.