“No,” Vincent said firmly. “No, they can’t kill you.”
“If only that were so,” Silva said, shaking his head. “But don’t worry; I have lived long enough. I have grown tired of running. It is up to you to carry on. You are our hope. Please don’t let us down.”
Vincent looked at the mask once more. He tightened his grip on it and nodded.
“Good,” Silva said, sounding relieved, “go now. I wish to be alone.”
Vincent left the cabin, still looking at the mask. The camp seemed to be in chaos now as the Rangers rushed to pull down tents and prepare their things for the march to the abbey. Trent was the only one who seemed calm, standing in the center of the training field, shouting orders to the Rangers who ran past him.
* * * * * * * * *
The Rangers were gathering on the training field. Silva was already standing there, with Trent at his side. Organized ranks were forming. It was the most structured gathering of Rangers Vincent had ever seen.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the Rangers to join the gathering. Vincent and Lauren were standing in the front row, next to David and Weston. A hush fell over the group as Silva stepped forward.
“Rangers,” Silva began, “for many years now, we have been preparing for the day when the Eresian Empire would move against us. That time has come, and we must stand together. As we speak, the Magi are preparing to march against the Grand Abbey, to destroy everything that it stands for. We cannot stand idly by and let that happen. Unfortunately, I doubt that we will succeed. There are thousands of soldiers at their disposal, and we number a meager five hundred. So, the time has come when we must decide where our loyalties truly lie. Do we run from certain death, or do we stand and meet it head on? I cannot make this choice for you. I will not order you to die against your will. So now is your chance. If you do not wish to stand with us, to die by our sides, then go now. I will not think any less of a man who leaves.”
Silva turned his back on the ranks of Rangers. An uneasy murmur spread through the group as most whispered about what Silva had said. The murmur grew in intensity, but not one man broke ranks. After what seemed like an eternity, Silva turned back to the Rangers. The look on his face showed that he had expected at least some of the men to have left. He smiled.
“Rangers,” he continued, “I am honoured by your bravery. Some might wish that we had more men, but not I. I would not take one more man above those that are gathered here. We may be small in numbers, but we are large in heart, and that cannot be destroyed. I will miss standing with you, my brothers.” Silva broke off speaking and Trent stepped forward.
“The mission on which we are about to embark will be one of legend,” Trent shouted. “Our black class mission is to reach the Grand Abbey and defend it, to the last man. We have received reports that the abbey at Spacco has already fallen, and the Sanctuary of Senno has been corrupted. There is no hope of receiving reinforcements from either location. We stand alone. Therefore, we must…”
A thunderous boom cut him off. Everyone turned to the source of the sound at the back wall of the encampment. It sounded again. A few people took a tentative step toward the noise.
The third boom sent a large chunk of the wall tumbling down, revealing two giants swinging their clubs at the wall. As the section of wall crumbled, a horde of creatures came gushing through: trolls, minotaurs, gnolls, ogres and goblins.
“Run,” Silva commanded as three Magi walked through the hole in the wall. “Head for the abbey. Go now!”
Vincent grabbed Lauren’s arm and started to run, but Silva caught his shoulder.
“Here, take this,” Silva said, shoving his sword into Vincent’s free hand. “Remember, protect her at all costs.” Silva turned, embracing his token as he went, forming a sword of flames and charged at the coming horde.
“Come on,” Trent called grabbing Vincent’s other shoulder. “We haven’t got much time. We need to hurry.”
Vincent took one last look at the man who had been his mentor and then turned and ran with the others.
Most of the others had already forced their way through the small gate, so Vincent and Lauren didn’t have trouble getting through. Outside the wall was chaos. Most of the Rangers were running in the direction of the Grand Abbey, but a few remained behind to fight the monsters that were quickly rushing around the outside of the wall from the back.
Arrows were whistling between the trees. Vincent had to duck more than once to avoid being hit. Grabbing Lauren’s arm again, Vincent ran for the road. She struggled, trying to get him to let her go, trying to make him let her stay behind; but Vincent’s grip held firm. They broke from the forest onto the road just as an arrow found its mark in Vincent’s right shoulder. Lauren broke the shaft before encouraging him onward.
A steady stream of Rangers was running down the main road to the Grand Abbey, however, several were having difficulty due to deep wounds in their arms and legs. Trent led the pack, carrying a wounded Ranger on his back and supporting another.
Lauren finally broke free, drawing her short sword and turning toward the forest.
“We can’t just leave them here,” Lauren said, pointing at the injured Rangers, who were slowly staggering along. “We have to help them.”
Vincent couldn’t disagree with her on this one. He drew his blade and stood next to Lauren, encouraging the wounded men to keep moving. David and Weston rushed by not long after, leading another small group.
“You two had best get a move on,” Weston called as he hurried past. “The main force from the back wall has made its way around, they’ll reach you soon.”
They could hear the approaching hoard through the trees. Suddenly, the white blade in Vincent’s hand, the one given to him by Silva just minutes before, started to heat up. Looking toward the sky, Vincent could see flames soar above the trees, and they were expanding rapidly and coming straight for them. The sword in Vincent’s hand suddenly turned black and icy cold.
“We need to go,” Vincent shouted to Lauren. “Now!”
“But we can’t leave them,” she protested.
“There’s no time,” Vincent shouted back, grabbing her arm and running.
The screeches from the monsters in the forest grew more frantic, but Vincent ignored them and kept running. Glancing behind him, he saw the trees at the edge of the road burst into flames as the unstoppable wall of fire marking Silva’s death advanced.
Lauren, who was still fighting to be free of Vincent’s grip, looked back at the same instant. She stopped fighting against him and started to pull him to go faster.
They ran as fast as they could, passing some of the slower Rangers as they went. They didn’t look back, didn’t dare slow down, fearing the consequences. They were catching up with David and Weston. To Vincent’s shock and amazement, David had a large smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Vincent’s shock turned to horror as Weston tripped over a tree root sticking out of the road, and fell flat on the ground. The smile dropped from David’s face as he watched his partner fall. He stopped and quickly went back for his friend. Vincent wanted to stop, wanted to go back and help; but he had to keep going. He had to make sure Lauren made it safely to the abbey.
The wall was steadily gaining on them. The Rangers ahead of them started to run faster as well, but it seemed to make little difference, it was still gaining on them. David and Weston were back on their feet, but the wall was licking at their backs as they ran. Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the fire was gone.
Chapter 20: The Gathering Storm
Vincent and Lauren stood, panting, as they looked behind them. The forest on both sides of the road was gone; burnt to flat ground. There was nothing left.
Vincent turned, still in shock, and started walking once again toward the abbey. Lauren quickly followed. Many of the Rangers were still staring behind them, still disbelieving what had happened.
There was silence through the woods as the stricken group of R
angers plodded onward. They walked for hours, oblivious to everything.
It was nearing dawn when the abbey came into view. A wave of relief came over Vincent as he grabbed Lauren’s arm and pulled her toward the gates of the abbey. She was barely conscious as Vincent started pounding on the large wooden doors.
The booming knocks echoed across the empty grounds. Very few people would be awake at this hour, but at least a few guards should be posted on the walls.
One of the doors creaked open just enough for one of the Knights to peek through.
“Who is it?” the Knight asked, sounding very disgruntled. “The gates don’t open for travelers until daybreak. You’ll have to wait. There is another two hours till sunrise.”
“We are not travelers,” Vincent said, so tired he could barely speak. “We are Rangers; and we are all that are left.”
The door swung open. The Knight stood in the opening, holding his lamp high above his head. The group of Rangers around Vincent was a sorry sight. Their cloaks were dirty and torn. Ash smeared their masks, most of which were hanging around their necks. Some looked as though they wouldn’t last another step. Kai, whose shirt had been completely burned off, but was otherwise unhurt, was carrying four Rangers in his arms and one on his back, Trent was almost carrying two others, while David was helping Weston, who had been severely burned. Barely a hundred had survived.
Vincent took a step forward and his legs finally gave out. The knight at the gate rushed to help, motioning for the others on the wall to come and help. Before long the abbey was stirring as priests and monks rushed about, trying to rejuvenate the battered Rangers.
It was near midday when they finished working on the last of the Rangers. Vincent had been placed in his old room in the academy dormitories. It felt good to be back in his old room; although, it was different without Thomas and his competitive nature sharing it with him.
Instead, Lauren sat on Thomas’ old bed. She had needed little healing and had slept most of the morning. She sat silently, staring blindly into space. A single tear ran down her cheek.
Vincent’s shoulder had healed well, and he now felt much better. Yet, there was still an empty feeling at the loss of Master Silva. It was a loss that Lauren no doubt was feeling as well, probably even more than he was. Silva had been like a father to her, had taken her in, and now he was gone. Vincent wanted to say something to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come.
A loud knock on the door startled them both. The visitor didn’t wait for an answer, but opened the door and walked in. Master Auna stood in the doorway, accompanied by Trent.
“Good,” Auna said as he walked in, “you’re both awake.” Auna swept into the room, wearing his red robes, Trent quickly followed before Auna hastily shut the door. “Do you have the mask?”
“Yes,” Vincent replied hesitantly, going to his pack and pulling it out. Auna seemed noticeably relieved.
“And the stone,” Auna asked, becoming anxious once again. Vincent pulled the glowing gem from under his shirt. “Good,” Auna sighed, “then all is not lost.” Auna looked noticeably relieved at this news.
“For the time being you must both remain here,” Trent added, allowing Auna time to compose himself. “However, Abbot Markov has not decided what is to be done with you yet. We cannot simply hand you over to the Eresians as they demand, but if you remain here it will draw the Magi, and we are not in a state where we could repel them.”
“Do you think that the Magi will simply leave the abbey alone if I leave?” Vincent replied, annoyed at Trent’s lack of judgment. “I’ve only know about the Magi for a few months and even I understand that.”
“He is right,” Auna said somberly. “I fear that we are nearing the end.”
“But there must be something we can do,” Lauren said, coming out of her trance. “I won’t accept that everything we’ve worked for was for nothing.”
Auna said nothing for a long time. He seemed lost in thought, as if debating something in his mind. Vincent could almost hear him muttering to himself under his breath.
“Yes,” he said at length, “that is what we will have to do.” Vincent looked at his former mentor with a sense of curiosity. “I must take you to see the Abbot. He has been very ill recently, but necessity demands that we interrupt his rest.”
“I don’t understand,” Vincent said as Auna started to usher them into the corridor, “you and I both know that he is going to tell me to stay here. Why bother him now, we should be trying to come up with a plan.”
“This is a plan,” Trent said as he hurried Lauren to catch up with Auna, whose long legs had already carried him to the stairs, leaving the others behind. “The Grand Abbot has the ear of Sandora. He can ask her for guidance.”
This thought had never occurred to Vincent. He had prayed many times, performing the ritual ceremonies, but he had never considered actually asking the Goddess for advice. The very idea of talking to a god seemed ridiculous to him. Yet here they were, going to ask the Abbot to speak with Sandora on their behalf. Things couldn’t be that bad yet, could they?
As they joined Auna at the top of the stairs they were quickly guided past the guard at the entrance to the dome. Vincent had only once before been allowed inside the dome, when he had received his token. Much of the space was dominated by a huge statue of the Goddess, with a much smaller statue of the first Knight of the Order, Breen, at her feet. Statues of the various abbots who had served at the Grand Abbey lined the walls. There was still an empty spot for Abbot Markov.
There was an aura of calm within the Dome. It allowed those who visited to feel closer to the Goddess. It also held its own defensive warding, independent of those granted by the abbot. Small wonder it was the most holy location for the Order of Sandora.
Auna led them behind the statue of the Goddess and opened an ornate wooden door revealing a steep spiral stair. Auna formed a ball of fire in his hand and started down into the darkness below, motioning for them to follow.
The ceiling was low going down and Vincent had to stoop as he went. Auna, in front of him, was almost doubled over, using the ceiling as a support as there was no railing. Vincent nearly tripped and fell more than once. He was surprised that the Abbot could even use these stairs considering his age.
The stairs seemed to continue forever, spiraling deeper under the abbey. The stairs ended in a white stone wall. The wall was smooth and looked like it was made of one piece of stone. The only marking on it was a small golden hand etched in the middle.
Vincent opened his mouth to ask what they were supposed to do now, but Auna placed his still glowing hand over the golden image and the wall started to glow. Vincent watched in amazement as the stone in front of them started to roll up like two pieces of parchment revealing a simple wooden door.
Auna knocked gently on the door before opening it slowly.
“Inside, all of you,” Auna whispered, “and be absolutely silent unless spoken to.”
They quickly filed into the room. It was large and spacious, though it had very few decorations. A full bookshelf stood against the far wall, with even more books piled on the ground beside it. A thick layer of dust covered most of the books; however there were a few on the tops of the piles that showed wear from frequent use. A single tapestry hung on the wall directly above the large bed in which the Abbot lay sleeping in. It was a finely woven image of the Goddess with her hands open in a welcoming embrace. While it had been well maintained, it was obviously very old, with edges starting to fray slightly. The room was dimly lit by an orb sitting in a strange holder on the ceiling directly above the bed.
Auna quietly moved next to the bed and gently placed a hand on the sleeping abbot’s shoulder. He looked a lot older than Vincent remembered. His face was white and his skin seemed taut and shrunken.
“My lord,” Auna whispered softly as the abbot stirred, “I’m sorry to disturb your rest, but we have urgent need of you guidance.”
Abbot Markov slowly opened his eyes and t
urned his head to survey the people standing in his room. A weak smile graced his face as his eyes rested on Vincent; eyes that no longer burned with the fire of youth. A sense of loss fell over Vincent as he looked into those eyes, which had once held so much life and energy. Now all they reflected was the weight of the world, pressing down on the frail old man.
“Vincent,” the Abbot whispered, “I am glad you have come. I wished very much to see you one last time before the end.”
“That is why we have come, my lord,” Auna said uncertainly. “The Eresians march against us, and we need the guidance of the Goddess. There are those who feel that the abbey would be safer if Vincent were to leave and seek shelter elsewhere. I, however, believe that there is little hope for the Order either way.”
The Abbot turned his head and looked at Auna, as if staring into his soul. He held that gaze for some time before he spoke.
“You speak truth,” the Abbot spoke solemnly. “There is little hope. It has been so since Vincent was brought to us. I foresaw this day long ago.”
“Then what are we to do?” Trent cut in abruptly. “We cannot simply lie down and accept defeat.”
“No, we cannot,” the Abbot agreed. “We must hold our ground here. It will be a desperate battle, but so it must be.”
“What of the boy?” Auna cut in. “Should we send him away, or should he remain here?”
The Abbot paused, staring hard at Vincent. He almost seemed to be debating something in his mind, his mouth moving slightly as though he were talking to some unseen, unheard force. Finally he seemed to reach a decision.
“The Chosen must remain here,” he said, sitting up. His voice echoing faintly around the room. The voice almost startled Vincent as it was much stronger than he had expected from the frail man. “The Great Goddess has decreed that he must lead us against our foe. So long as Vincent lives there is hope for the Order, and as long as Lauren lives there is hope for the restoration of the Old Kingdom.”
The Ranger (Book 1) Page 28