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

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  A delicate finger touched his back. “It will take me too long to find a way around these enchantments.”

  Asher grunted as he adjusted his body to better see the table in the corner. “Over there. My ring is on the table, under the red cloth.” Faylen moved to the table and lifted the cloth to see his black crystal ring. “Put it on my finger.” The ranger wiggled his fingers.

  Faylen picked up the ring with a curious glance at Asher. Without warning, the elf’s hand went into spasm and clenched tight around the gem, as her knees gave out. She cried out in pain, though her voice was deeper and unnatural. The table and all his belongings floated into the air at the same moment the fire in the gutters climbed the walls. As suddenly as it started, the phenomenon ended when Faylen managed to throw the ring away. The table dropped to the floor and the fire died down.

  “What is that?” The elf sounded exhausted and yet full of energy all at once. It occurred to Asher that no one besides himself had ever actually touched the crystal before.

  “Put it on my finger, quickly!” The noise had alerted the guards, who were now working on sliding the bolts out of the door.

  Despite her obvious reservations, Faylen used magic to levitate the ring across the room and placed it over Asher’s right index finger. The ranger wasted no time. He willed the ring’s superior magic to freeze the manacles and chains until they were so weak he only had to tug at them to be free. If Meister Kalantez’s enchantments offered any resistance he didn’t feel it. What he did feel was the floor as he fell to his hands and knees, his legs unable to support him. Asher whipped his head back, removing the hair from his face, and sighed in relief ,when the black crystal went to work on healing his ailments. Bones cracked and popped back into place, while his cuts and bruises sealed up and faded. It was as if he were coming up for air after a long dive. The clarity of the room took on a sharpness it had been missing for a couple of days.

  The heavy iron door swung open , just as Asher rose to his feet, his body remade. The two Graycoats stared at him with disbelief, their mouths ajar. They looked dumb-founded from him to the frozen chains that lay scattered across the floor.

  “Guarantees are hard to come by in this life boys,” Asher met their stunned faces with a menacing expression, “but I guarantee you, if either of you pulls a sword, I will break your goddamn neck.” Asher meant every word. After what he’d been through, cracking a couple of necks was just what he needed.

  The Graycoats hesitated with their hands over their hilts, until good sense won the day, and they attacked Asher with their bare hands. The ranger batted their fists away with ease, twisting wrists and bending arms, before he countered with a flurry of strikes that targeted the knight’s nerve clusters. In seconds, both men were rendered unconscious.

  Asher stood over them, heaving as his newly healed muscles which rippled in the firelight. It felt good to be strong again. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders and head, enjoying the freedom. That need to fight was always there, just under the surface.

  Nightfall would never leave him.

  “Where did you get that ring?” Faylen managed to stand, though she still massaged her saw hand.

  Asher looked at the black crystal set into the silver ring. Nasta Nal-Aket had always taught him to keep his strengths a secret, but there would be no secrets kept from the elf now. Faylen was too old and wise to be lied to, especially after touching the ring.

  “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” Asher could see the featureless face of a woman giving him the black crystal as a child, but he couldn’t remember why anymore.

  “Let me see it.” Faylen hesitantly gripped Asher’s hand and raised it to her face for better inspection. “As black as night...” The elf appeared to be losing herself to the depthless facets of the crystal. “It cannot be...” Faylen manipulated his hand to see it from every angle. “There are many magical trinkets in the world, but none as powerful as this.” Faylen met the ranger’s eyes. “Except for one and this cannot be it.”

  “Why not?” Asher had a feeling he already knew why.

  “Because if this is what I think it is, it should be much bigger than a shard. It should be the size of a finger.”

  Asher gave the elf a hard look. “I cut this piece away years ago, from a black crystal the size of my finger.”

  Faylen gasped and stood back as if the ranger was plagued. The elf continued to look from him to the ring and back.

  “You have Paldora’s gem...”

  Asher didn’t see how it could be possible that he would have such a legendary relic, but he knew her words to be true. In some way he had always known that the crystal was of great importance, but he couldn’t remember why. The situation in which he had been given the gem was long forgotten, thanks to Nightfall’s vigorous upbringing.

  “Where is the rest of the gem?” Faylen asked with considerable concern.

  “I threw it away after I crafted the ring. Arakesh don’t have many possessions and the crystal caused many to become suspicious.”

  “Where? Where did you throw it away?” The elf was suddenly a lot closer.

  “In a place where no one will ever find it...” Asher would have elaborated if it weren’t for the ringing of bells in the distance.

  They both looked around, fearing they had done something to sound an alarm, but no one knew of his freedom. The ranger wasted no time in fitting his leather armour to his chest and tying his bracers to his forearms. It felt good to have his sword on his hip again, its weight offering comfort. The spiked pommel was dull in the firelight and in need of a polish. He strapped the quiver and attached his folded assassin-bow to the side, hanging both over the top of his green cloak for easy access. Finally, he admired the silvyr, hour-glass blade, gifted to him by the dwarven smithy Danagarr Bairnson. The ranger quickly sheathed the fine sword on his back. All the while, Faylen paced the fire-lined room, as if the weight of Verda were on her shoulders.

  “Time to go,” the elf said at last, pulling a small white crystal from a pouch on her belt.

  “Wait.” Asher held up a hand. “We need to see what the alarm is.”

  Faylen closed her hand around her crystal and looked past Asher. It was clear to see that she was concerned for Reyna. The two stepped over the Graycoats and ran down the corridor, the ranger more than happy to leave the cell behind. As they rounded the final corner, the two came to a sudden stop when Reyna, Nathaniel and Elaith blocked their path. There was a moment of surprise on Nathaniel’s face, as he looked over Asher’s healed appearance.

  “What are you doing here?” Faylen hissed.

  “We’re coming with you.” Reyna looked at them both. The princess wasn’t to be argued with.

  “No you’re-” Faylen was interrupted by Asher.

  “What are the bells for?”

  Nathaniel appeared distracted, looking up to the ceiling as if he could see the keep above. “They’ve never had need of them before...” The Graycoat’s steely expression was all Asher needed to see to understand what was happening.

  “They’re here!” Elaith drew her sword.

  “Then it’s the perfect time to leave.” Faylen pushed past them. “We can use the distraction.

  Asher could see the conflict on Nathaniel’s face. The knight wanted to stay and help his brothers and sisters in the fight against their oldest enemy.

  “Stay if you must,” Reyna said softly, with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  Nathaniel glanced at the ranger. “What we’re doing is more important.”

  Faylen groaned in a very un-elf-like way. “Well come if you’re coming!” she called over the sound of the bells.

  A light rain covered the five, as they cautiously entered the courtyard, keeping close to the walls in hopes of avoiding detection. No one cared. Several Graycoats ran past them with abandon, heading for the steps up to the outer wall. Many looked at the five companions but none questioned them or tried to detain the ranger. The knights shouted
to each other from across the fort, rallying their forces to the main gate and the outer wall.

  Asher had a very bad feeling.

  “Nathaniel!” Reyna shouted to the Graycoat, who had made a dash for the steps. Faylen sighed when Reyna and Elaith followed him without hesitation.

  Asher gripped the hilt of his broadsword, ready for the inevitable fight that would occur when he was noticed. The ranger wasn’t entirely sure if he could stop himself from cutting Ned Fennick down if he saw him. He climbed the stone steps and joined the others on the outer wall. The entire platform was lined with a thousand Graycoats, most of whom had been recalled. More were filing out of the keep and making for the main gate. Asher had never seen so many Graycoats in one place before.

  The ranger found a gap between Faylen and Nathaniel at the walls edge. There were few things left in life that could shock the old assassin, but the sight before him now left him with his mouth open. He couldn’t get rid of the surprise that marred his face, as he looked out over a field of Arakesh. The moon shone down over what Asher estimated to be around five hundred assassins. Never in the history of the Arakesh had so many been brought together for a single purpose.

  Faylen was watching him. The elf looked from him, to the ring, to the army at their gate. The Arakesh hadn’t been amassed to kill one elf, royalty or not, they had been sent for Paldora’s gem.

  At the head of the dark army, a figure stood alone, dressed in black and gold with a hood and mask that covered his mouth and nose. His cloak billowed about him, as the storm gathered overhead and the rain picked up. Thunder rumbled about them with stray bolts of lightning striking the fields around the Arakesh.

  The Graycoats were a mix of emotions, judging by their expressions. Some appeared eager for such a battle, while others looked to be on the verge of running for The Evermoore, to the north. The ranger might as well have been invisible.

  The sound of a sword being unsheathed behind him, forced Asher to turn away from the dark spectacle. Ned Fennick was crossing the small bridge, between the inner and outer walls, with four Graycoats at his back. Nathaniel pulled himself away from the terrifying view and came to stand beside the ranger.

  “You will suffer a great price for this, traitor.” Fennick glared at Nathaniel, before he got a closer look at Asher’s unscathed features. The broad knight stared blankly at the ranger, examining him from head-to-toe.

  “Ned!” The Lord Marshal came striding down the outer wall with a pair of knights either side. Horvarth paused to lock eyes with Asher, before looking past him to the Arakesh. “You have spent a long time trying to convince the world you’re something else, ranger. Your actions thus far appear to support that claim.” The leader of West Fellion looked over the elves and Nathaniel. “Do you swear by all the gods that you had no hand in this, and that you will lend your sword this day?”

  Asher looked at Faylen, who now wanted to take Reyna away from West Fellion, even if it meant heading towards Elethiah. Her need to keep Reyna safe was all over her face.

  “Lord Marshal?” Fennick pleaded.

  “Perhaps you haven’t seen what’s at our door?” Horvarth snapped. “His blade will claim more Arakesh than your own.” He looked back to Asher. “What say you?”

  Nathaniel removed the bow from his back and Reyna notched an arrow, signifying their joint decision. Elaith nodded and hefted her sword, proud to be wearing her coat, while Faylen sighed and looked back to the army with dismay.

  “Don’t let them breach the main gate,” Asher replied. “If they get inside the walls we’ll be overwhelmed.” The ranger lifted his head to the moon. “If we can hold out until daybreak we might have a chance of repelling them, the dark is their greatest ally.” The sound of the rain drowned out almost everything, as it bounced off the multitude of leather coats and swords.

  “He speaks nonsense, Lord Marshal,” Ned flustered. “We outnumber the Arakesh two-to-one!”

  “Your numbers count for nothing in the dark,” Asher countered.

  “As you say.” Horvarth stepped onto the turreted wall. “LIGHT EM’ UP!”

  As ordered, torches were taken out of the fire-pits and dropped into the moat of pikes below. The fire climbed the walls when the oil poured into the moat was set alight. In seconds, West Fellion was encircled in a fire that could be seen for miles.

  Hidden deep in the canyons of The Arid Lands, Alidyr sat cross-legged on the floor of his private chambers. The elf was surrounded by a circle of ancient runes and elven glyphs. He had prepared this particular spell days ago, before the army had even left Nightfall. Twenty of his best warriors had volunteered their bodies to be branded with a spell of the ancients that allowed the Father to see through their eyes. At least that’s what he told them. In truth, once Alidyr had enacted the spell, he would be able to control any one of them.

  His eyes glazed over with a milky white, as his consciousness traversed Illian in the blink of an eye. The elf was now looking through the eyes of Jai Hadrok, a young and talented assassin who had proven himself on many missions. Beside the young killer was the older, more experienced warrior, Ro Dosarn. The five hundred strong stood in the cold rain with hardened discipline. They didn’t complain, they didn’t ache, and they didn’t even shiver. This weapon he had created for his master would bear fruit once they retrieved Paldora’s gem for him.

  Standing as a wall in front of them all was Adellum. His magnificent bow was in hand; ready to carve a path through the Graycoats until he found Asher.

  Everything was about to change.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  A Little Raucous

  Galanör awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep while it was his turn to keep watch as Gideon slept by the fire. The familiar sound of large feet padding across the desert floor had found the elf’s sensitive ears, however. The last time he had heard that particular sound was back in Malaysai, when the guards had patrolled the streets astride giant lizards. Using magic, Galanör waved his hand quickly over the fire and stole the oxygen from the hungry flames.

  Darkness consumed them, as the only light filtered down from the stars. The moon was distant now and low on the horizon, offering little illumination to the elf’s fears. He reached out and nudged the mage vigorously, since the human wasn’t easily roused, even in the dangerous Flat Wastes.

  “What’s wrong?” Gideon called out, alarm creeping into his croaky voice.

  Galanör clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shh...” The elf continued to stare into the distance, desperate for his vision to adjust in the dark.

  The mage joined him on his knees and followed Galanör’s gaze across the desert. Gideon’s expression told of his blunt human senses, only Galanör could hear the approaching feet. The elf slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, trying to focus his efforts on hearing.

  “I don’t see anything,” Gideon whispered.

  “Shh!” Galanör gripped the mage’s leather jacket, around his shoulder.

  His keen ears caught the familiar sound of a spear whistling through the air. The elf pushed Gideon away, while he dived the other way. The spear flew between the two and drove into the hard ground. The padding feet picked up speed until Galanör could hear the guttural breathing of a large beast.

  “Gideon!”

  The mage responded by rolling to his knees and bringing up his staff. A fireball exploded from the end of his staff and streaked through the dark, lighting up the desert ground before it finally struck the meaty leg of a giant lizard. The lumbering beast toppled over its own momentum, sending its Darkakin rider sprawling out in front. His cries of surprise were cut short when the bulk of the lizard rolled over him.

  The charging feet of more lizards could be heard over the injured creature’s panting. Galanör couldn’t discern their number, but guessed it to be at least a dozen. The elf conjured a ball of light and launched it high into the air. He quickly counted nine more riders making their way across the wastes, each wielding a spear or a bow. Without thinking
, he retrieved both scimitars and braced himself for their attack. Gideon apparently had no intention of waiting.

  The mage ran ahead, as if to meet them, before he dropped to one knee and brought his staff down hard into the ground. Galanör wasn’t sure which spell Gideon used, but the mage certainly filled it with enormous will. The ground cracked outwards from the end of the staff, replicating a spider’s web. When the giant lizards crossed into the broken ground, the land exploded, as if it were built upon geysers. One lizard was fired high enough into the air to take all four of its feet off the ground. Another had its head taken clean off by the heavy slab of rock that shot up through its neck. The fallen beasts created havoc for the others and caused collisions that crushed their riders.

  Two Darkakin were able to let loose a pair of arrows into the gloom. Galanör held his breath, seeing that both arrows flew true, aimed at Gideon. The young mage stood up and whipped his staff aside; creating a wall of magical energy that swept the arrows away. Gideon followed up his defence with a lightning spell. The burst of energy closed the gap between the mage and the approaching rider in a second and caught the Darkakin in the chest, launching him backwards into the night.

  Only two riders remained, and both charged at Galanör. As skilled hunters, the Darkakin didn’t even shout out when they found their prey, always trained to remain silent. The elf met their charge with a flat out sprint of his own. With incredible precision, Galanör flicked his right scimitar towards the furthest rider, while at the same time launching himself into the air, using the nearest lizard’s head as a stool. As the flying scimitar plunged into the furthest Darkakin’s chest, Galanör flipped his body over the closest rider and landed behind the saddle. A horizontal swipe removed the Darkakin’s head. Galanör pushed the rest of the rider’s body from the saddle and took control of the lizard for himself.