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

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  How many fortresses would he have to break into before he could taste real freedom? For how much longer would he be bound by his duty and honour?

  Chapter Forty-Two

  A Heavy Conscience

  Not long after dawn and a modest breakfast, Reyna walked along West Fellion’s outer wall, accompanied by Faylen, Lord Marshall Horvarth and a small company of Graycoats. Nathaniel was notably absent, as well as his ward Elaith and the ranger. The princess felt uncomfortable without them and oddly vulnerable. Faylen and herself were more than capable of defending themselves, probably more so than any of the knights that surrounded them, but it didn’t change the way she felt.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. The great storm that had steered them north on their crossing to Illian had invaded the land and continued to hunt them ever westward. Somewhere beyond that storm her father was preparing their army and building ships for the inevitable attack. If his plan for the dragon eggs was anything to go by, then they had several years before they would go to war, however.

  The lord of elves would expect a report from them soon, wanting to know everything Reyna had learned. The princess was to gather as much information about the various armies of Illian and who held what alliances. It would be her information that told the elven army where to strike and how many would be needed. Faylen was in possession of the diviner, but had yet to communicate with anyone in Ayda and inform them of the Arakesh’s involvement.

  They would find it troubling to know that the head of Valanis’s hand was behind the attacks. Reyna’s father had suspected that there were forces opposing them, but none could have guessed that it would be any remnant of the dark elf’s forces. If Alidyr and the other dark elves had been in Illian for a thousand years, it stood to reason that they would have contingencies in place for the elves return. The princess could see the folly in their announced arrival now. They stood against an enemy that had been planning this war long before the lord of elves had even decided to take back the country.

  “You seem troubled, Princess.” Horvarth walked beside her, with his hands clasped behind his back.

  For the most part, the Lord Marshal had been a graceful host. The man had an air of honesty about him that came across as refreshing after meeting the royal families. The respect his knights gave him was easy to see and even easier to understand.

  “I fear that we have placed your home in peril, Lord Marshal.” Reyna stopped at the edge and looked down.

  A team of sweaty and hardened Graycoats were busy removing and replacing the giant pikes with fresh ones, while a separate group of topless knights ran around West Fellion’s perimeter, keeping fit.

  “We have dealt with the Arakesh before,” Horvarth replied. “If they come for you it will be a single assassin or a small group. Stealth and darkness are their weapons, Princess, but here we will expose them to the light.”

  Reyna followed his gaze and noted the extra fire-pits being fitted to the top of the wall, as well as the many torches being nailed into the stone. Further out from West Fellion’s perimeter, Graycoats were already erecting giant pyres that could be lit at night to illuminate the surrounding land.

  “Have you ever encountered one yourself, Lord Marshal?” Faylen asked.

  “As a younger man I had the displeasure, yes. I was escorting a dignitary from Skystead to Palios. To save time we cut through The Vale and on through The Vrost Mountains. I regret allowing the head of the guard to make that decision now; we should have stuck to the Selk Road. I have no doubt that the assassin trailed us the entire way, but she didn’t strike until we made camp in the mountains...”

  “Did she succeed in assassinating the dignitary?” Reyna asked.

  “Sadly yes. She killed everyone but myself and another guard, lucky enough to survive having his hand removed. I struck her a wound across her back that would rightly kill any man, but she slipped into the night and vanished. I hunted her for many days but never found a body.”

  Darius Devale chirped in, “They are more monster than man.”

  “Asher is no monster,” Reyna fired back. “He has turned his back on their order and made a new life for himself.”

  “A life of killing still,” Darius replied just as quick.

  “Enough.” Horvarth held up his hand to silence the knight. “New life or not, Princess Reyna, the ranger is in possession of vital information, information we have sought after for centuries. We cannot pass up the opportunity to question him.”

  “But how many words are being exchanged?” Faylen whispered into Reyna’s ear.

  They continued to walk around the grounds, as the Lord Marshal pointed out the different defences they had in place. All the while, Reyna scanned the face of every Graycoat in search of Nathaniel.

  In the courtyard below, students and knights trained side-by-side with practice swords and light armour. Some honed their technique against a straw-filled dummy, while others fought one another under the supervision of a trainer. Younger recruits, who looked to be children in Reyna’s eyes, assisted the much older Graycoats in the stables. New knights appeared on horseback, having received the Lord Marshal’s call to return. For all their numbers, training and preparation, Reyna felt no safer than she did with Nathaniel and Asher by her side.

  “If I might ask, Princess,” Horvarth clasped his hands behind his back, “why did you choose Velia to liaise with? Rengar is a good king, but Alborn is not the richest or most powerful region. I would have thought King Merkaris in Namdhor would be a better choice.”

  “Why do you say that?” Reyna asked.

  “Well he’s a descendant of Gal Tion for a start, the first king of Illian.”

  “Not the first...” Faylen muttered under her breath, so that only Reyna could hear.

  “That alone commands a certain level of respect from the people,” Horvarth continued. “But he also rules over the north. All of Orith is his to command, and a wealthy region it is too. It is rumoured that he even trades with the dwarves in Dhenaheim.”

  “My father didn’t want to upset the balance and tip the scales too far in one king’s direction. Velia was the closest kingdom with the mildest climate; though we hadn’t foreseen the storm that overshadowed our arrival.” Reyna lied all too easily now, and she hated it. Velia had been chosen because they could give Galanör the signal when permission had been granted for elves to enter Korkanath.

  “Elves are truly as wise as the legends say.” Horvarth smiled warmly.

  Reyna returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. There didn’t seem to be any wisdom in going to war, even to justify ending the threat of Valanis’s return.

  Later that evening, before they were expected at the Lord Marshal’s table, Reyna paced in their shared quarters, staring at the diviner, dormant on the table. Faylen sat cross-legged on the bed, failing to meditate while the princess was so restless. She looked at the black orb and shared Reyna’s concern. Very soon they would be expected to contact the lord of the elves, or whoever Mörygan spoke with in Elandril, and inform them of their progress.

  Ölli flapped his wings by the narrow window, eager to fly away and hunt. The owl only served to remind Faylen of Reyna’s mother, Adilandra. She missed her oldest friend and their long talks into the night. They could walk through The Amara for hours, discussing the gods in private and talking about their hopes and dreams for Reyna. Those walks and conversations soon became more secretive, as the lord of elves made his plans for Illian and the future of the dragon race. Adilandra had commanded her to keep Reyna safe in her absence, though she needn’t have asked; the princess was as much a daughter to Faylen as Adilandra was a sister.

  Faylen looked back to the black orb, wishing there was some way to communicate with her old friend and make certain she was safe, or even alive. No elf had journeyed into the south of Ayda before.

  No, she thought. Such worries were unfounded, especially when the gods themselves were in support of her pilgrimage. Faylen truly believed, as Adilandr
a did, that the queen was the one Nalana spoke of in her prophecy. That knowledge gave her sour feelings towards her own part in all this. Faylen was doing the bidding of her king, playing a crucial role in a plan that wasn’t in line with the will of the gods. Mörygan had already been taken from the mission, a possible indication that the gods desired a different course for Reyna and herself. The princess clearly had doubts about her father’s plan and voiced them all too willingly. Her mother’s daughter, indeed.

  The weight of right and wrong hung heavy on Faylen’s shoulders. The elf had been in service to the royal family her entire life. Serving was all she knew, and going against the lord of elves was the worst crime she could commit, yet every fibre of her being and faith told her that it was right. Valanis was the real threat, not mankind. Though they had many flaws, humanity could not be blamed for their nature and the need to take and expand. Faylen knew in her heart that the king wanted to take back Illian and wipe out humanity for the land and some twisted sense of justice. But they were firmly set on their course now. Eventually the army would invade and march on Elethiah and destroy Valanis, but not before decimating every town and city between there and the Shining Coast.

  Unless...

  Faylen looked at Reyna, pacing endlessly. If Elethiah could be breached with elven magic, perhaps there was a chance she could infiltrate the old citadel and find the frozen remains of Valanis. Magic was often more bark than bite, and Faylen couldn’t imagine that killing Valanis was any harder than removing his head from his shoulders, while he remained frozen in place. If she could report that Valanis was truly dead, then the king wouldn’t have just cause to invade. Reyna would be safe in West Fellion while she journeyed to Elethiah, but travelling alone was never a good idea when so much rested on an individual. But who? She couldn’t risk Reyna’s life and the Graycoat’s would be of no use to her. The magical wards that surrounded the city were designed to keep all at bay.

  That thought struck her with a new idea. She had already seen a man stand up against one of the most powerful elves who ever lived, though she knew not how. Asher’s resilience to magic must have been something gifted to him during his training at Nightfall. There was no telling what Alidyr Yalathanil had done to him and the other Arakesh.

  Could she do that? Did she have the courage to help Asher escape and travel to Elethiah, accomplishing what so many had failed to do a thousand years ago? Could she truly leave Reyna? Faylen wouldn’t be going anywhere safe, but at least she would be able to keep her eye on the princess if she stayed. The thought of Adilandra’s bravery bolstered her own. If her queen could have the courage to journey into lands unknown then Faylen could make it to Elethiah.

  Now she just needed to help the ranger.

  Nathaniel waited in the shadow of the stone arch, hidden from Ned Fennick, as he entered the courtyard. The veteran Graycoat walked out into the moonlight, wiping his knuckles with a white cloth, which quickly turned red. He had been with Asher for several hours, no doubt breaking one of the many bones in his hands during the questioning. There was no telling what would be broken on Asher.

  “Get me ice, boy!” Fennick barked at the young Graycoat that followed him about.

  Once out of sight, Nathaniel entered the cells beneath the keep. Already prepared, he retrieved a small pitcher of water and a handful of dry bread, holding them both out to be seen clearly. The two guards stiffened slightly at the sight of him, but kept their swords sheathed, seeing no threat from the order’s ugly duckling.

  “What are you doin’ here, Galfrey?”

  Nathaniel recognised the knight’s look of disgust, as well as his first name, Talbot.

  “Fennick ordered me to-”

  “High Commander Fennick,” Talbot quickly corrected.

  Nathaniel blinked slowly to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “High Commander Fennick ordered me to make sure the prisoner is fed and watered.”

  “An’ why would he do that, eh?” Talbot had always been slow minded, an exceptional fighter, but still slow.

  “Because if he dies from dehydration, thirst that is, then the High Commander won’t be able to question him anymore.” Nathaniel explained it as simply as he could.

  Talbot shared a look with the other guard, whose name Nathaniel had forgotten. A non-committal shake of the head and a subtle shrug later, the guards went to work on opening the heavy door. Each of the four iron bolts made a loud noise, slotting into the wall.

  Talbot sneered as Nathaniel walked past him. “At least they’ve finally foun’ a job worthy of the great Nathaniel Galfrey...” The door closed behind before Nathaniel could reply.

  The Graycoat lost his breath at the sight before him. Asher hung suspended by four chains to keep him off the floor, a floor now heavily stained with blood. The ranger’s head hung low over his chest, while his greying hair plastered his face. His torso was bruised, cut and even burnt in some places. Nathaniel looked to the black pokers left at the ranger’s feet, their ends still glowing orange. The room was lined with a gutter that constantly burned with fire, to keep the room in light.

  “Back for more, Fen-dick?” Asher’s words were surprisingly strong for a man in his condition.

  “It’s me,” Nathaniel replied, crossing the room.

  Asher looked up with no sign of relief on his battered face. His left cheekbone was surely broken, along with his nose. Both of his eyes were black and his right eye was almost entirely red. Several cuts marred the skin between and split his lip in more than one place.

  Nathaniel immediately put the pitcher to Asher’s mouth and helped to tilt his head back while the ranger drank his fill. He groaned in pain, as the water washed over his cuts and ran down his chest, its transparency quickly turning red before it touched the floor.

  “Why did you come here?” Nathaniel asked, frustrated. “I told you they would do this. Now they have you, they’ll never let you go, even if you tell them everything.”

  Asher choked for a moment before replying, “It seemed like a good idea at the time...”

  “Have you told them anything?” Nathaniel asked, inspecting some of the more serious wounds to Asher’s body.

  “He hasn’t asked anything yet.” Asher’s head dropped to his chest once more.

  Nathaniel didn’t know what to say to that. Ned Fennick was a bastard, but to beat a man senseless and ask no questions was something else.

  “Have you really been calling him Fen-dick?” the Graycoat asked with a forced smirk.

  “Yep.” Asher looked up again and managed a half-smile, before the two shared a short laugh together. “I think it’s starting to grow on him...”

  “I’m going to help you.” Nathaniel didn’t know how yet, but he knew he had to try.

  “Forget about me. The Arakesh will be coming, you need to prepare.”

  Nathaniel gave him more water. “The guard and patrols have been tripled. New pyres are being erected everywhere and the blacksmiths in Vangarth are sending more supplies every day. We’ve got enough arrows to block out the sky now.”

  “It’ll be different this time,” Asher explained. “They sent a team and failed, they sent their best assassin and he failed. They won’t make that mistake again. You need to prepare for several teams to strike at once, each from a different angle. You need to expect them to breach the walls and be ready for that fight. They’ll watch you for days and attack when they know your every move. It’ll be in the darkest hour, when the moon is low and the current guard are coming to an end and they’re tired as hell.”

  “We need you out there, advising us.” Nathaniel couldn’t see any way that the Lord Marshal would allow an ex-assassin to walk freely among West Fellion’s walls.

  “You need to keep her safe.” Asher looked him in the eye with more intensity than he was used to seeing in the detached ranger. “If they’re right about Valanis, then there’s a lot more at stake than just a few lives. Elves are powerful; they might just be the only ones who can stop this war from ever
happening.”

  “You realise there’s no payout for all of this.” Nathaniel couldn’t quite figure out why Asher had so much concern for the welfare of the country. There was a very good chance that the ranger would die inside this cell, be it at the hands of the Graycoats or the Arakesh.

  “I’ve already made the deal of a lifetime. It would be nice to retire knowing I did something good for once...” Asher’s head dropped again.

  Nathaniel could see the shame that hung over the ranger. His deeds as an assassin would haunt him forever, no matter how much good he did.

  “What did the Father ask you to do, all those years ago? What finally broke the cycle?” Nathaniel had wanted to know ever since he met Asher.

  The ranger hesitated. “Have you ever been to Dunwich?”

  “Many times, I grew up in Longdale, remember? Dunwich is just south of there.”

  “Then you know of the governor that presides over the town. You know that he has a daughter, Esabelle and a son, Thomas.” Asher clamped his jaw in what looked to be an effort to control his emotions.

  “I actually met Esabelle once, a fine young lady, much loved by the townsfolk, but the governor of Dunwich doesn’t have a son...” Nathaniel could see where the ranger was going and lost his words.

  “Fourteen years ago, when Esabelle was only six years old, she had a brother. Thomas was only four...” A single tear streaked down Asher’s bloodied face. “I wasn’t alone. I was mentoring a new Arakesh, eager to kill for the Father. I didn’t even hesitate when I put the dagger in Thomas’s heart.” More tears ran from his eyes. “He awoke only a moment before I killed him. I saw the shock and pain fade from his eyes, as his life ebbed away. I had never killed a child before, in all my years...” Asher was looking past Nathaniel now, as if he was there again, inside the governor’s house. “The other Arakesh deliberately woke Esabelle up, just so he could see her terrified look before he murdered her. Before he could strike I put my blade through his eye, killing him instantly.”