The Ranger (Book 1)

by E. A. Whitehead

  “But how do we know he will respect the traditions of your people,” Vincent protested, “after all, he has betrayed them once before.”

  “Do not misunderstand me, Vincent,” Kai said, sounding slightly offended, “While his treachery runs deep, he betrayed us to gain power. He still cares for the people and will not allow their total destruction. I doubt that even he anticipated the Magi using our people to start a war.”

  “Then why not ask him to free the people? He must know what the Eresians are planning,” Vincent continued. “If he truly wanted to protect his people, he would free them from the slavery he has placed them in.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” Kai sighed in frustration. “The traitor is both prideful and arrogant. He will not admit that he made a mistake, even if it cost him his life. He will personally fight any who come to hurt his people, even the Eresian Army, because he believes that he can win.”

  “Vincent,” Silva cut in, “the only tactic that has ever been known to be successful in doing battle against Draylor has been long range, heavy artillery. In the canyon leading to the caverns, there is no room for that. Your battle must be fought at close range, but remember, the Eresians must not know you wield the Fire Token. Use any measure necessary to protect that secret.”

  “Yes sir,” Vincent nodded.

  “We need to go, every moment we wait here the Eresians are moving closer to the caverns,” Trent said, putting a hand on Silva’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back.”

  “Very well,” Silva agreed, “you must be off without delay; but there is one more thing.” Silva seemed almost anxious as he spoke. “The scales of the Draylor are almost invincible and there are very few holes in their armour; you will need a special weapon to pierce them, so take this,” Silva said, drawing his sword. “The sword of a Pallàdrim is one of the few things that can pierce a Draylor’s hide. As long as I am alive, that blade is unbreakable.”

  As Silva spoke Kai started to glow bright white as he transformed into a monstrous dragon. His scales were a deep black with a fiery red patch running down his back from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, and they shone brightly in the early morning sun.

  “Climb on,” Kai growled, his voice even deeper than normal, “and hold on tight.”

  “One more thing,” Silva said as he handed Vincent his sword, “Draylor are incredible creatures, they learn fast and are full of surprises. Not even I know the full extent of their abilities.”

  Vincent nodded as he took Silva’s blade. It was perfectly smooth and felt warm in his hands. An elegant golden pattern wove its way up the sides of the blade, forming the image of rolling flames. He gazed at it with a sense of wonder before climbing onto Kai’s back with Trent, holding tight to the spines that ran down his back between his wings. Kai reared onto his hind legs, preparing to take off.

  “Remember,” Silva called as Kai kicked off from the ground, “the fate of the Order is in your hands.”

  The wind whistled past Vincent’s ears as the soared through the sky. It was exciting, yet terrifying. Peeking over Kai’s shoulder, he could see the earth far below. The distant mountains were approaching fast. A journey that had taken days by foot was now accomplished in less than an hour.

  Each beat of Kai’s great wings carried them higher and higher into the sky. Vincent could feel the muscles in Kai’s back working to keep them in the air. The longer they flew, the deeper Kai’s breaths became.

  It took nearly six hours for them to reach the canyon path leading to the caverns. Kai descended carefully so as not to be seen. He could barely stand as he touched down. His huge form trembled at every breath.

  “Are you alright?” Vincent asked, sliding from his back.

  “I will be shortly,” Kai said, gasping for air. As Trent dismounted Kai flashed and was human again. He dropped to his knees, panting.

  “I think we beat the Eresians,” Trent said, taking in his surroundings. “I can hear their marching drums though, so they shouldn’t be long.”

  “Then I need to hurry,” Kai said, stumbling as he tried to stand. “I must not be seen by the Eresians, they know what I am.”

  “But you can hardly stand,” Vincent said, helping his old companion to his feet.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Kai said, brushing off Vincent’s hand. “I’ll be fine in a moment. Besides, there’s a secret entrance to the caverns just around that ridge, so I should be able to sneak in undetected.”

  “Well, whatever it is you need to do, just do it fast. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to delay this battle,” Vincent said.

  “I’ll do what I can,” Kai replied as he started to walk away into the canyon and was lost from view.

  “I think we should head down the mountain and meet the Eresians at the entrance to the canyon,” Trent said after a moment of meditation. “It would not look good from the Eresian perspective if they found us sitting at the gates of the caverns, looking like guards.”

  Vincent agreed with his logic, so they started off toward the entrance of the canyon. The sun was high in the sky, and the wind blew hot off the desert at the base of the mountains. In the distance, Vincent could see the dust cloud being kicked up by the approaching Eresians. Despite their distance, their drums could be clearly heard.

  “It will be close to an hour before they reach us,” Trent said, dropping to the ground, “You’d best save your energy, Vincent. You are going to have a very difficult battle later.”

  Vincent found a large rock and sat in its shadow. It gave relief from the sun, but not the stinging wind. He pulled his cloak over his head, trying to protect himself from the blowing sand; but it had little effect.

  “By the way, Vincent,” Trent added, “I’ve been thinking; if you are going to use your token to deflect the Draylor’s fire, which you’ll have to do if you want to live, I think you’ll need a shield. It would make an excellent excuse for how you deflect the fire. Just use your token and deflect it as it reaches the shield.”

  “One problem,” Vincent sighed, “where am I going to find a shield out here in the desert?”

  “I’ll take one from one of the Eresians,” Trent said, “Their tower shields would work perfectly, they’re a little bulky, but you should be able to hide entirely behind one.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Vincent said, huddling further into his cloak to hide from the wind.

  The hour passed slowly. Vincent was relieved when he finally heard the approaching steps of the Eresian Army. He quickly got up and joined Trent where he stood on the road. The approaching army seemed to take little notice of them, continuing their march despite the appearance of the two figures on the road.

  The legionnaire, marching at the front of the group called a halt abruptly a few paces from where Trent and Vincent stood. He removed his helmet and shook his long red hair. Vincent was once again glad of the mask he wore as he was confronted by the familiar face of Thomas Honson.

  “What business do you Rangers have here?” Thomas demanded, “This has nothing to do with you. Or do you intend to defend the Draylor and their actions?”

  “Our errand is much like your own,” Trent replied. “We, too, are concerned by the sudden change that has come over the Draylor. We wish to investigate. However, should it come to battle, it is clear that you would require our assistance.”

  “The Eresian Army needs help from no one,” Thomas spat back.

  “Be that as it may,” Trent continued calmly, “your people have little experience dealing with the Draylor; we have much. If you want to have even a hope of defeating them, you will accept our help.”

  “I wouldn’t trust them, commander,” one of the soldiers whispered from behind Thomas. “They’re Sandorians. They’re obviously trying to trick us.”

  “I am a Sandorian,” Thomas snapped back, turning and flashing the golden pin in the shape of a hand on his chest. “We will accept your offer,” Thomas said, suddenly turning back, “not because we ne
ed your help, but because you need ours.”

  “Very well,” Trent said graciously, “we will accept your aid.”

  “Good,” Thomas said, smiling condescendingly, “seeing as you know the terrain better than us, would you lead our march?”

  “If you wish,” Trent replied, “however, I have one request.”

  “Go on,” Thomas said, hiding his curiosity.

  “When we arrive at the gates of the cavern, we have a grievance with the Elder of the Draylor. I ask that you do not interfere with our encounter with him. If we are successful, you may not need to enter battle with the Draylor at all.”

  “As long as it does not endanger my people, then we will not interfere,” Thomas agreed, “but I will be the judge as to whether or not my people do battle.”

  “Very well, but believe me,” Trent said with a smile, “interfering would only endanger your people more.”

  “We shall see,” Thomas glared. “We are wasting time here, let’s continue our march.”

  They continued on into the mountains, following the path through the canyons to the gates of the Draylor Cavern. The beating drums set a quick pace, but Vincent kept up without difficulty.

  The gates leading to the cavern were once again closed. The setting sun shone brilliantly against the golden gates, and many of the Eresian soldiers paused in awe of the spectacle.

  “We have arrived at the gates,” Thomas said sharply. “Conclude your business quickly that we may be about ours.”

  “As you wish,” Trent said, nodding to Vincent who started walking toward the gates. “I will need your soldiers to stand back, for their own safety,” Trent added.

  Vincent stopped just before the gate, where they had encountered the guard on his last visit to the caverns. No one challenged his approach this time. Vincent stood uncomfortably before the gate. He could feel the eyes of the army behind him burning into his back.

  “I seek to challenge the Elder of the Draylor, in retribution for his actions,” Vincent called out as loudly as he could. From the corner of his eye he could see Thomas cast a suspicious glance in his direction at the sound of his voice, but he ignored it. The silence was deafening, but Vincent didn’t budge. The minutes dragged on, but still there was no answer to his challenge.

  Just as Vincent was about to give up and turn back, the gate started to creep open. There, standing in the robes of the Elder, was Nicholas, the smith.

  “Who dares challenge my rule,” Nicholas bellowed as the door opened. “I rule this people with an iron fist, none shall oppose me.”

  “I challenge the legitimacy of your rule,” Vincent replied calmly. “The acts you have caused your people to perform are unpardonable. Step down or be destroyed.”

  “A mere human thinks that he can defeat me?” Nicholas laughed. “If you were a Pallàdrim, you might have had a chance, but this, boy, is insulting, I will not battle you.”

  “Do you fear to fight me then?” Vincent called as Nicholas started to turn his back. “Or do you simply have no honour to answer a challenge to your rule?”

  “Your impudence will get you into trouble, boy,” Nicholas spat back, his eyes glinting angrily. “You dare question my honour? Very well, we shall battle as you desire. I shall be merciful and kill you quickly. Prepare yourself, we battle in one hour.”

  Nicholas turned and returned to the caverns, the gates swinging shut behind him. Vincent heaved a sigh of relief. He had half expected Nicholas to charge at him at that very moment.

  “It seems you were right, Ranger,” Thomas said, approaching Vincent and Trent. “But the Draylor has a point, how can one man hope to beat a grown Draylor in fair combat?”

  “This is no ordinary Ranger,” Trent replied, patting Vincent on the shoulder. “He has been specially selected by Master Silva for this mission. He has what it takes; but he will need one of your tower shields.”

  “A tower shield,” Thomas asked, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, “what for?”

  “The breath of a Draylor can be deadly,” Trent explained. “He will need some way to deflect it.”

  “Very well,” Thomas nodded, “you may use a shield.” He motioned and one of the soldiers stepped forward and gave Vincent his shield. “As for you, Ranger,” Thomas added, turning his attention to Vincent, “you remind me of an old friend, but surely you couldn’t be him, as he is dead.”

  “It is as you say,” Vincent replied hesitantly, trying to mask the sound of his voice, “the dead cannot return to life.”

  “That is true,” Thomas agreed, sounding disappointed, and bitter, “they cannot.” Thomas turned and started walking slowly back to his waiting troops.

  The hour passed far too quickly for Vincent’s liking. The gates opened suddenly, revealing the monstrous form of Nicholas strolling confidently toward Vincent. His form was made even more impressive by the large, jagged suit of plate mail that he wore.

  “I must say I am surprised that you are still here. It is not too late to change your mind, human,” Nicholas sneered through the slit in his helmet. “I will forget your impudence if you leave this place now and never return.”

  “I will not leave until you answer for the attack on Spacco,” Vincent replied calmly, tightening his grip on Silva’s sword.

  “So be it,” Nicholas growled, drawing his massive two-handed long sword.

  Vincent stared in disbelief as the huge scabbard dropped to the ground. The blade was longer than he was tall. His surprise didn’t last long as Nicholas lunged forward. Vincent managed to clumsily knock away the blow, but he wasn’t used to using a shield and it was getting in the way.

  Nicholas attacked again. The force of his blows was incredible. They reminded Vincent of his last encounter with Kai at the Academy.

  The shield slowed Vincent down more and more, as the battle continued, and his frustration was mounting. Nicholas in his human form couldn’t shoot fire at him anyway.

  Another slash from Nicholas nearly found its mark, nearly ending Vincent’s life. He had had enough. He tossed aside the shield and embraced his token, allowing Furtivos to flow through him. A sense of pure calm flowed through him as the world slowed around him. He easily dodged the blows that Nicholas sent and struck back; gouging the heavy steel armour he was wearing.

  Now Nicholas was becoming frustrated. Vincent could see his opponent’s swings becoming wider, and more frantic as he easily stepped out of the way. More holes were appearing in Nicholas’ defense, and Vincent was taking advantage of them. Small trickles of black blood were oozing from the many gashes in Nicholas’ armour.

  Suddenly, Nicholas started to speed up. His blade started to match Vincent’s, blow for blow. Vincent started drawing deep from his token, desperately trying to increase his speed. It worked, everything started to slow even more, except Nicholas; he seemed to be increasing in speed.

  Vincent’s arms and legs felt like they were burning as he continued to increase in speed, but Nicholas was still matching him. Vincent was suddenly grateful for the hours of training he had spent with Lauren on the beam in the camp as he bent and twisted in ways he had not thought possible as he dodged the deadly blade swinging at him.

  Nicholas sped up suddenly again, hitting Vincent with the back of his hand across the face, knocking him to the ground. Vincent could feel the mask crack under the blow, but it held together. He was pretty sure the blow had broken his nose and he could feel blood trickling down his face.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Nicholas spat grudgingly. “You have proven that you are as fast as I am. Let us see if you can match my true strength.”

  Nicholas began to glow as he started his transformation. His armour seemed to be absorbed into his skin as his body grew and contorted. He was the biggest dragon Vincent had encountered, making the guard from his first visit look tiny. Even Kai was small compared to this monstrous figure. Nicholas towered over Vincent now, his blood red scales glistening in the sun. It seemed that a spine was growing out of every scale on his
back, and two huge spikes stuck from his tail.

  He spread his wings and roared. Vincent could barely suppress the urge to cover his ears at the deafening sound; but he wouldn’t let his foe have that satisfaction. Nicholas seemed to hiss in anticipation as he glared at Vincent with his black eyes. Vincent wished at that moment that his still held the Eresian tower shield.

  Fire, unlike anything that Vincent had ever seen or felt before, burst suddenly from Nicholas’ mouth. Vincent dove out of the way, barely missing the deadly blast. The singed hair on the back of his head was testament to how close he had been to death.

  Vincent started scrambling desperately for the shield he had abandoned; knowing his only chance to defend himself against this new threat was to use his token, which he couldn’t do in the sight of so many Eresians.

  Another jet of flames shot from Nicholas’ mouth. Vincent darted behind a large rock to get away, but it was only a temporary shelter as the rock started to melt under the heat.

  He could see the shield lying on the ground, just out of reach. It wouldn’t take much to get it, a quick sprint and he would have it, and the fight would be on even ground again, but that sprint would mean exposing himself to the flames. Time was running out, and the decision had to be made.

  The growing heat at his back, emanating from the slowly melting rock made the decision for him. Vincent shot from behind the rock, diving for the shield on the ground. He grabbed it and whipped it around so it stood between him and the huge dragon; but not before the stream of fire shot toward him, burning his left shoulder.

  Vincent nearly fainted as the memory of the wound he had received in that same shoulder months before at the hands of Mayberry shot through his mind. The flames felt much the same, meaning that they must be from the High Plane. Vincent finally understood why Silva had sent him. If Draylor fire was from the High Plane, then he was the only one who could stand a chance at victory in close combat.

  Vincent was now using his token to deflect the flames away from the shield, but just enough so that it looked like they were still hitting the shield. He started moving forward, slowly creeping toward his adversary. Nicholas did not seem to like this, as he started backing away; but there was only so far he could go before he ran into the wall of the canyon.