Ranger's Oath
Arc of Radiance: Book I
***
Blake Arthur Peel
RANGER'S OATH
Arc of Radiance: Book I
Blake Arthur Peel
Copyright © 2018 by Blake Arthur Peel. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission from the author.
https://blakearthurpeel.com
Cover art by Rob Erto
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Arc of Radiance
Chapter One | Owyn
Chapter Two | Zara
Chapter Three | Owyn
Chapter Four | Zara
Chapter Five | Owyn
Chapter Six | Zara
Chapter Seven | Owyn
Chapter Eight | Zara
Chapter Nine | Owyn
Chapter Ten | Zara
Chapter Eleven | Owyn
Chapter Twelve | Zara
Chapter Thirteen | Owyn
Chapter Fourteen | Zara
Chapter Fifteen | Owyn
Chapter Sixteen | Zara
Chapter Seventeen | Owyn
Chapter Eighteen | Zara
Chapter Nineteen | Owyn
Chapter Twenty | Zara
Chapter Twenty-One | Owyn
Chapter Twenty-Two | Zara
Chapter Twenty-Three | Owyn
Chapter Twenty-Four | Zara
Chapter Twenty-Five | Owyn
Chapter Twenty-Six | Zara
Chapter Twenty-Seven | Owyn
Chapter Twenty-Eight | Zara
Chapter Twenty-Nine | Owyn
Chapter Thirty | Zara
Chapter Thirty-One | Owyn
Chapter Thirty-Two | Zara
Chapter Thirty-Three | Owyn
Chapter Thirty-Four | Zara
Chapter Thirty-Five | Owyn
Epilogue | Zara
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Arc of Radiance
"Ranger's Oath"
"Bringers of Doom" – August 1st, 2018
"War Echoes" - Forthcoming
"Exiled" - Forthcoming
"Prince of Darkness" - Forthcoming
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Map
Chapter One
Owyn
The curving yew creaks as I pull on my bowstring, pressing the fletching of the arrow to my cheek as I stare down the shaft at my prey.
A stag, standing twenty paces away in a clearing, dips its antlered head into the grass and begins severing stalks with its teeth. For a second I marvel at its muscled frame, and the way it remains alert even while grazing in the woods.
And yet, I think, watching it with one eye closed, it doesn't even realize that it is about to die.
I exhale softly and let the arrow loose, the bowstring launching it forward with a snap. In a flash it soars through the trees, embedding itself deep into the stag’s flank and causing it to jerk with the force of the impact. The animal then bolts a second later, running away with the reckless gait of a wounded animal.
“Nice shot, Owyn,” Elias murmurs from his spot in the bushes next to me. Coming from the grizzled ranger, the compliment carries weight.
“Thanks,” I mutter nonchalantly, though inside I swell with pride. I lower the bow and turn to look at my master. “Are they supposed to run off like that?”
Elias nods. “It’s rare for an archer to kill a beast of that size with a single arrow. It’ll run for a bit, but eventually it will tire from blood loss and collapse. For now, we follow it.”
He stands up from the ferns and shoulders his bow, his grey-green mottled cloak making his broad frame blend in almost perfectly with the foliage around him.
Shouldering my own bow, I follow Elias out of our hiding place. My master has been a woodsman since before I was even born. As his apprentice, I want to learn everything I can from him.
Among the rangers, the man is practically a legend.
We make our way to the spot where I shot the stag and sure enough, there is a blood trail leading deeper into the forest. Wordlessly, we backtrack to find our horses, then begin our pursuit through shady trees of the Emberwood.
This forest that has become my home, I think to myself fondly as I gaze at the woods around me. The golden light of the sun filters through the branches above and casts everything in a warm, emerald glow.
To my eyes, untrained as they are, it is difficult to follow the trail, but Elias knows the woods the way a hawk knows the sky. Tracking game is as easy for him as breathing is for me. We weave past trees and wade through the undergrowth with ease, moving at a steady pace that only rangers can manage. As we ride I hold both the reins of my mare and those of the pack mule, which plods along easily beside me.
It isn't long, however, before we find the stag quivering in a growing pool of red.
I dismount, eying the beast uneasily as we approach. I cannot help but feel sorry for it. Its hind legs have given out, and it lifts its head pitifully to regard us, mewling in pain. It makes no move to flee from our presence as we draw near.
It knows that it is dying.
Elias reaches to his belt and pulls out a knife, a long-bladed, slightly curved weapon that he hands to me. “Here,” he says gruffly. “It’s time to put it out of its misery. A clean cut across the jugular should do the trick."
I take the knife in numb fingers and stare at it for a moment. The cold steel glints imperiously in the sunlight. “You want me to kill it with this?”
Elias nods gravely. “It’s the right thing to do.” He walks over to the stag, crouching down and pointing to a spot on its neck. “Start here and guide the knife across the throat. This will sever the main artery and kill it quickly. A good, clean death.”
He moves out of the way as I approach, watching me with an appraising eye. I barely register his gaze. My eyes are focused on the stag laying in front of me, noticing the way it strains to keep its head up, and the way its huffing breaths sound labored.
It dawns on me that this animal is in pain and dying because of my actions.
Kneeling down, I quickly locate the spot Elias had indicated. The knife feels as heavy as an anvil in my hand. Raising the unforgiving steel to its neck, my eyes flicker down and meet the stag’s. They are deep pools of black fear as the animal senses what I am about to do. My stomach twists as the knife quivers in my hand.
I suddenly feel very ill.
“I don’t think I can do this, master,” I say shakily, feeling a profound sense of shame at the admission. “I’m sorry.”
“You must,” Elias says, cool and unmoving. “It is part of being a ranger. Sometimes you will find an animal in the wilderness that needs to be put down. Better for it to die quickly rather than slowly. It would be a crime to let it go on living like this.”
I take a breath and look back at the stag, and this time I am careful to avoid looking at its eyes. I place a hand under its neck and grab a handful of fur, then I raise the knife. Squeezing my eyes shut, I plunge the blade into the stag’s flesh and begin to saw downward, gritting my teeth in disgust. The skin is much tougher than I anticipated, and I can feel the knife catch on
rubbery tendons as I saw. Its body goes rigid and I feel it start to shudder, warm, wet blood washing over my hands.
Then, after one final spasm, it lays perfectly still.
Grunting, I open my eyes and stand on wobbly legs, looking from the stag’s lifeless body to my bloodstained hands. They look so red in the afternoon sun.
“Take this,” Elias says, handing me a clean rag. “For the blood.”
I do my best to wipe off my hands and clean the knife before giving it back to my master. The rag had gotten most of it, but my fingernails and the cracks in my skin are still stained a deep red.
Elias takes the knife back but does not return it to his belt. “You did well today, Owyn,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It is one thing to shoot an arrow from a distance, but something else entirely to take a life when you are close enough to look it in the eyes. Remember this feeling. Killing only gets easier the more you do it.”
I nod but do not reply. I still feel a little queasy.
Squatting down, Elias wastes no time in opening the stag’s belly and pulling out the entrails, placing them in a neat pile in the dirt. The sound makes my skin crawl but I force myself to watch him finish. I never know when I might be expected to do this myself.
When it is all done, Elias calls me over. “Help me get the carcass up on the mule,” he says, stepping around the corpse and grabbing it by its hind legs. “It’s time that we start heading back to town.”
Together we hoist the dead animal up onto the placid grey mule, strapping it down so that it can remain secure during the ride back. Despite my disgust, I am amazed at how light it is without any of the guts. I still feel a slight pang of guilt, though, when I see its proud head lolling like a rag doll.
Once we are finished, we mount our horses and begin riding due east for Forest Hill, a journey that will likely take us a full day to complete.
This means spending another night beneath the trees in the Emberwood.
As we begin to ride my eyes catch a glimpse of the stag, which bounces limply to my side. Grimacing, I turn and look out at the forest around me instead, letting my thoughts drift to other, less grisly things.
The Emberwood is the largest forest in Tarsynium, growing along the western border of the Arc of Radiance. It is known for its beauty, as well as its diverse plant and animal life. For the last couple of months, it has been my refuge.
When I started this apprenticeship with Elias I knew nothing of forestry. I was just an orphan that needed purpose in life. Now, I am constantly being instructed on the harsh realities of nature, learning everything involving wilderness survival. Today was my first hands-on lesson on hunting. My stomach churns at the thought, and I am reminded of the dried blood caked beneath my fingernails.
Most importantly, I am being trained to be a fighter. Aside from being expert woodsmen, rangers are skilled warriors. They are the protectors of the kingdom’s borders, and have been for a thousand years.
Or so the legends say.
As we continue our ride I begin to lose myself in thought, idly watching the oak and ash trees as they pass by. I think of the Ranger's Oath and what has brought me to this point. I think of my childhood in Edenshire and the summers I had spent there, pretending I was the fabled knight Luca Dhar fighting with the Legion of Light.
Those thoughts, however, inevitably lead me to think of the death of my mother, and so I quickly begin thinking about other things. It pains me to think of my mother, but I find that the longer I stay here, the more this forest is beginning to feel like home.
I continue to look at the forested land around me. Every so often I catch a glimpse of the Ironback Mountains rising up in the distance to my left, where the lowland trees give way to the mighty pines of the north. I have never been to the mountains, but I hear that they are as beautiful as they are dangerous.
I am shaken from my thoughts as Elias abruptly pulls his horse to a stop, raising a fist to signal for me to do the same. I pull on the reins, bringing my horse and the mule to a halt as well.
"What's going on?" I ask. "Why are we stopping?"
Elias does not reply. He merely dismounts and walks into a clearing that lies just ahead.
Frowning, I hop out of my saddle and jog to his side. What could have brought us to a halt? I wonder silently. Usually Elias wants to get as much riding out of the way as possible before the sun goes down.
I open my mouth to ask him, but the words die on my tongue when I see what has caught Elias' attention.
The clearing in front of us is littered with bodies.
I quickly realize that the bloody limbs that are strewn about are not human. They look like deer, but it is still a grisly sight to behold. The clearing, probably no more than twenty paces across, looks like the floor of a slaughterhouse. Probably a dozen deer carcasses lie scattered about, though it is hard to tell since most of them have been torn to pieces, gore staining the grass everywhere.
Judging by the smell, the bodies have been out in the sun for more than a few days.
"What happened here?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not sure," Elias replies, sounding genuinely disturbed. This is the first time I've seen the man shaken. He continues to study the scene in front of us, concern painted plainly on his weathered face. "A predator of some kind would be my guess," he says after a moment. "Perhaps there is a rabid wolf about."
I suppress a shiver. "I've never seen a wolf do anything like this."
We move into the clearing to get a closer look at the carnage. The smell is almost unbearable. I choose to breathe through my mouth, but even then, it is barely tolerable. The rot in the air is so thick that I can almost taste it, and it takes everything in me to keep from covering my mouth with my sleeve to block out the smell.
It looks as if a herd of deer had been attacked by a whole army of wolves, only the wolves were not interested in food, but in tearing the poor animals limb from limb. We walk past the stinking corpses and I can't help but wonder if the stag I had killed had been a part of this group, that maybe some of these deer were his family.
The thought makes me feel even sicker.
"I need to mark this spot on the map," Elias says after a few minutes. "The other rangers should be informed about events like these. If there is a rabid animal roaming these woods, we'll need to be extra careful."
I watch him go back to the horses, but stay back to continue surveying the clearing. Once Elias is gone, however, I quickly cover my mouth and nose with the edge of my cloak.
Some of the deer have long claw marks raking their skin, I notice, crouching down to inspect a particularly ravaged body. These gashes are far too deep to be from common wolves or cougars. And why has most of the meat been left behind to rot? Looking around I realize that there are also no carrion eaters feasting, or even flies buzzing around my head. Where are the buzzards? Where are the crows and the maggots?
Suddenly I start to feel like I am being watched, an uneasy sensation that prickles my skin and makes me forget about the horrid stench of the corpses.
I turn and look at the tree line, scanning for any signs of life.
Nothing.
A branch rustles off to my left and I spin, trying to locate the source of the disturbance, but again I see nothing.
Then something emerges from shadows.
It is a hulking creature that resembles a great wolf, only it is unlike any wolf that I have ever seen. The figure is as black as midnight, with thick, matted fur covering its body from head to tail. Despite its size it moves through the undergrowth with an easy grace, reminding me of a panther on the prowl, and great scythe-like claws adorn its feet, rending the earth with every step. A long, toothy snout lifts up and sniffs the air, revealing a glowing red eye on the side of its monstrous head, and I feel my palms begin to sweat.
I remember the stories people whispered when I was a child, tales of monsters that could devour whole villages and fight with the strength of a hundred men. The
red eyes of R'Laar are all too common in campfire tales.
My breath catches in my throat as I realize exactly what this creature is.
A demon.
I take a step back and wince as a twig cracks under my foot. Instantly the demon turns its gaze on me, its eyes like two burning coals smoldering in its skull.
My breath catches in my throat, and I feel the hackles on the back of my neck begin to rise.
Heart pounding, I back up and nearly trip over the rotting corpse of a deer. I barely manage to catch myself, and then begin to run, pumping my legs as fast as I can toward Elias and the horses.
"What's wrong?" Elias asks urgently, looking up from the map he is holding.
"A demon," I breathe, all pretenses of bravery gone. "Over there, in the trees." I turn and point, but when my eyes fall on the spot where the monster had been, there is nothing there.
It has completely vanished.
Chapter Two
Zara
A smoldering ball of magefyre comes hurtling toward me.
My body reacts by instinct, diving out of the way as it whizzes past my head. I conjure a shield of radiant magic as I fall to block any residual heat that may burn me. It clings tightly to my body like a second skin.
I land hard but in an instant I am back on my feet, gripping my talisman and pulling in source energy to cast another spell. My opponent, surrounded by a radiant shield of his own, looks at me warily, his hands both shimmering with flickering blue magefyre.
"Fas morag ti ma'tel," I intone, channeling the source energy into a tight sphere in my fist. My skin tingles from the power, sending a shock up my arm, but it does not burn me.
Magic does not harm the person channeling.
I extend my arm forward, palm facing out, and release the source energy, shooting a radiant missile at my opponent. He raises his hands as if to block, his magefyre dissipating as the beam punches through his shield like an arrow ripping through paper. It strikes him square in the chest and sends him tumbling backward, landing in a heap on the grass.
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