Ranger's Oath

by Blake Arthur Peel

  Under different circumstances, it would truly be a wonder to behold.

  Again, my thoughts turn to the events at hand. A village is attacked at the same time we find those mutilated deer in the woods? That's too much of a coincidence for it to not be connected. My stomach abruptly growls, interrupting my thoughts. Light, I'm hungry. Perhaps Governor Prior will have refreshments at his house.

  I try to ignore my rumbling belly as we make it to the end of the road, pulling up in front of the manor house with a cloud of dust following in our wake.

  A stable boy runs out to greet us as we rein in our horses. We dismount and hand him the reins, including those of our pack mule, before striding up to the front door. It is a finely carved piece of oak with a frosted glass window.

  "I know that I usually meet with the governor alone," Elias says in a low voice as we climb the steps, "but today I want you in there beside me. Your perspective could help us figure out what is going on here, and I can't afford to leave you in the dark." He pauses just before knocking, then gives me a strangely hesitant look.

  “There’ll be no mention of the... incident,” he continues, saying the word with special emphasis. "No need to make him worry needlessly."

  I nod, but cringe inwardly. He clearly does not believe my story.

  Grunting in satisfaction, Elias hammers on the wood three times with his fist. I half expect there to be dents in the wood because of how hard he hits it.

  A plump woman in an apron answers the door and gives us a warm smile. "Ranger Keen," she says, looking at Elias and opening the door for us to enter. "Governor Prior will be with you in a moment. Please wait for him in the study and make yourselves at home."

  As we enter the house I feel even more out of place than usual. The governor is a very wealthy man, and it shows by the way his home is decorated. The furniture is made from the finest wood and leather that money can buy, and all manner of decorations including paintings, tapestries, and vases have been set on display, likely brought here from craftsmen in Tarsys. All of it makes the manor stand out from the rustic homes that are common in Forest Hill, and gives the distinct impression of superiority.

  By contrast, Elais and I are unkempt, covered in a gritty layer of road dust and stinking from days spent out in the wilderness.

  I feel like if I touch anything, I will ruin it by making it dirty.

  The plump woman leads us to a large study and closes the door, leaving us alone with rows of bookshelves lining the walls.

  I look around, taking stock of the room around me. A roaring fireplace crackles on one end of the room, filling the room with warmth while a closed balcony sits on the other side. A desk is placed in front of the balcony, facing a pair of plush sofas in the middle of the floor, and a cabinet full of bottles of liquor is set up between a pair of bookshelves.

  Everything looks rich and is spotlessly clean.

  "Don't touch anything," Elias says, taking a seat across from the door. "The things in this room are worth more than you'll ever be able to repay."

  "I won't touch anything," I reply, walking over and examining one of the bookshelves. It is lined with dozens of leather-bound tomes, some of which are thicker than the haft of my axe. They're so thick they could probably last the whole night as firewood, I think derisively.

  Reading has never been something I particularly enjoyed.

  I wander around the room, looking at the various odds and ends before finally ending up at the governor's desk. A curling map has been spread out across it, weighed down by carved paper weights of stone. It is a detailed rendering of the Emberwood, marking every single settlement and farming community within its borders.

  These are all under the governor's rule, I realize, bending over to get a closer look.

  If there really had been some sort of attack on one of these villages, then the governor would likely want it sorted out right away. The king will not be pleased when he learns that something terrible has happened to the people under his watch.

  Or our watch, I suppose.

  The rangers are charged as the protectors of the realm. They share just as much responsibility as the governor for keeping the citizens of Tarsynium safe. That is one of the reasons why every ranger must swear the oath.

  Just then, the door opens up and a fat man in rich clothing enters the room.

  Governor Prior.

  Elias stands up and I take a step away from his desk and try to look innocent.

  "Governor," Elias says, putting a hand on his belt knife and bowing slightly. I do the same with my hatchet.

  "Yes, yes," Prior says, waving his hands as if to wave away the formalities. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I understand that you have just returned from a hunt." He walks over to his desk and sits down heavily, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the sweat away from his upper lip.

  "Such is our duty, my lord," Elias states, making his way to the desk as well. I find it amazing that even while wearing boots, he still manages to move silently on the hardwood floor.

  The governor lets out a sigh and looks from Elias to me, and then back to Elias. "You know that I would not ask to meet unless it was absolutely necessary. I'm afraid that something terrible has happened in the Emberwood."

  "Your note mentioned that there has been some sort of attack," Elias says. "Tell me everything."

  Prior glances at me nervously, but my master gives him a look that seems to say 'you can trust him'. Then he heaves another sigh. "I'm afraid that one of the villages under my stewardship has indeed been attacked, as recently as a few days ago."

  "Which village?" Elias asks, his face a stony mask.

  "A small farming community called Haven. Do you know it?"

  "I've been there once or twice."

  Prior leans forward and points to a spot on the map on the eastern side of the Emberwood, near the border of the Arc. "My collector Jeramie just returned yesterday from gathering taxes from the outer settlements. When he stumbled into town he looked haunted, white as a ghost and unable to speak in coherent sentences. When we finally managed to get him to tell us what happened, he said that Haven had been completely destroyed. Down to the last man, woman and child."

  "Hells," I utter quietly, but neither of them look at me. I'd never been to Haven, but I have heard of it. The people there are said to be hardly folk, living on the very edge of civilization.

  Why would anybody want to attack them?

  It feels as if a stone settles in the pit of my stomach.

  "Did he say anything else?" Elias asks, his face still an impenetrable mask.

  Prior shakes his bald head and again wipes his face with the handkerchief. "No, that is all we were able to get out of him. The physicians are looking at him now, but he does not look good. A bad case of shock would be my guess."

  Elias grunts. "That's not a lot to go on, my lord. I'm curious to know what your thoughts on the matter are."

  Folding his hands in front of him on the desk, the governor furrows his brow in consternation. "I'm going to be frank with you, Elias. It does not look good. If my man is right and the village has been destroyed, it would be the largest tragedy Tarsynium has seen in more than a century. Part of me wants to blame bandits for the attack, punishing the community for not paying them protection money or some such. But my gut... my gut tells me that someone else is to blame."

  He leans forward conspiratorially and whispers a single word.

  "Nightingales."

  Hearing the word fills me with a smoldering anger that threatens to erupt in the form of an angry outburst. Somehow, I manage to keep my mouth shut, though I can still feel my face start to grow hot.

  Elias' reaction is much more composed. "The Nightingales are rebels and freedom fighters, not butchers. It is not their way. They're prone to harrying the king's supply lines, not slaughtering innocent villagers."

  "That may be so," Prior says, leaning back in his chair, "but my reports from the capital seem to indicate that the Nighting
ales are growing bolder. If it is a war with the kingdom they want, then what better place to start than striking out against the king's loyal subjects?"

  "Perhaps," Elias says, though he does not appear convinced.

  "Regardless," the governor continues, "we need to confirm that Haven has indeed been attacked the way Jeramie has described. I need additional witnesses and evidence before I can file a report to King Aethelgar."

  My anger begins to cool somewhat at Elias' words, though it is replaced with the same sense of dread I had felt before.

  I can tell where this is going.

  "I would like you and your apprentice to travel to Haven and confirm the destruction of the village. Search for survivors and gather whatever evidence you can. If you encounter any enemies along the way, do not engage. Your job is to merely observe and report back to me. Is that understood?"

  "Understood," Elias says.

  Then both of them turn to look at me.

  "Understood," I declare, trying to mimic my master's professional demeanor.

  "Excellent," Prior says, lifting his immense frame out of his cushy leather chair. "I will see that both of you are compensated generously for your efforts. But please bear in mind that time is of the essence. Make a hasty return if you can."

  He walks us to the front door and bids us farewell. We then make our way through the manor and step out into the light of the noonday sun. A slight breeze ruffles my tangled brown hair.

  As we mount our horses Elias looks at me, his usually hard eyes softening with concern.

  "Are you alright?" He asks, patting his gelding on the neck.

  I nod, but within I am a whirling storm of emotions.

  He looks out over the sprawling forest around us and says with a sincere voice, "Despite what the governor says, I do not think that the Nightingales are involved."

  Elias can always see right through me. I hate it that my emotions are so easy to read. I open my mouth to reply, but I cannot find the words to speak.

  An awkward moment passes, and then Elias clears his throat. "First the deer in that clearing, and now Haven. Perhaps the two incidents are connected. Perhaps not. Whatever the case, it is our duty to discover the truth and make sure that another massacre does not occur."

  Despite my best efforts, an image flashes before my eyes. Red eyes in the darkness and claws like scythe blades.

  The demon.

  I push the thought away and give Elias a grim smile. "Let's have another hunt, then."

  With that, we spur our horses down the hill, delving once again into the wild, untamed frontier that is the Emberwood.

  Chapter Six

  Zara

  The carriage bounces noisily on the dirt road, jostling me uncomfortably as I sit inside the cab. I hold myself steady, gripping the armrest and bracing myself in my seat, but it still feels like my teeth are rattling around in my head.

  Could this ride get any bumpier? I think to myself, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable in my seat.

  I've only ridden in a horse-drawn carriage a handful of times in my life, though none of those experiences had been particularly pleasant. This time is no exception. It seems that the small wooden box, more of a coffin really, shakes with every small bump in the road, and the sound of the axle grinding beneath the floorboards is straining on the ears.

  Still, I think, wincing at an especially violent bump. It is better than riding on horseback.

  My only experience with horses involved a particularly angry pony that bit my hand when I was a little girl. Ever since then, I have tried to avoid contact with the beasts. All things considered, riding in a stuffy carriage is preferable to wrangling an unpredictable animal.

  I try keep this thought in mind, ignoring my aching backside as I once again shift in my seat. Glancing out the window, I let out a yawn.

  After Arch-magister Tyrande had asked me to accompany her on this mission, it had been a mad rush to gather my things and prepare myself for the journey. I had arrived at the Pillar of Radiance with my trunk just as they were preparing to leave. Elva had sternly lectured me about how important it is to be on time, but it was nothing that I did not expect. In fact, the lecture was far overshadowed by the nervous sense of excitement I felt getting into my carriage, the lights of the city fading into the distance behind me.

  Although I had been completely drained from my sparring yesterday, sleep somehow still managed to elude me. Perhaps it was the nerves or my uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. I was only able to drift off once briefly, but even then, it was not very restful.

  At least there is plenty of food, I think, stifling another yawn.

  I reach over to the platter on the seat next to me, picking up a sweetroll and taking a decidedly unladylike bite. Next, I begin flipping through pages in the book on my lap, idly skimming the archaic text by the filtered light of the sun. It is the volume on demonology I had taken from the Academy library, its ancient parchment yellow and smelling mildly of dust.

  Tuning out the noise around me, I finally settle on a chapter titled "Understanding the R'Laar", letting its words take my mind off present circumstances.

  The bringers of Byhalya's Doom were, of course, the demonic horde that came to our world from the Eleven Hells. It is interesting to note that the demon army refers to itself as the R'Laar, which roughly translates to "world eaters" or "eaters of worlds".

  These "world eaters" are a loose-knit organization of beings that differ widely in appearance, abilities, and even genetic makeup. They are, however, united by a single purpose – the will to dominate all life.

  I take another bite of the sticky pastry and turn the page.

  In order to combat these monsters, the mages of Tarsynium, the final surviving kingdom of man, created the Arc of Radiance. The Arc functions like a shield of radiant magic that completely encompasses the kingdom in a massive dome. This shield is practically invisible to the human eye, and yet it has managed to keep the demons from conquering the surviving peoples of Byhalya. The Arc of Radiance truly is the cradle of the Light, shielding our civilization and protecting us from harm.

  Additionally, it is an unprecedented feat of magic, the greatest achievement ever attained by the mages of this world. The tallest tower in the center of Tarsys, known as the Pillar of Radiance, contains the Heart of Light, which is the source of the Arc's power. The tower can be seen from miles away, shooting a magical light into the sky and feeding the Arc with radiant energy.

  May this monument stand for another millennia.

  I eagerly turn another page.

  The R'Laar require vast resources in order to keep their infernal armada fully functioning. In fact, this was their primary purpose in coming to our world: to devour its resources the way a swarm of locusts devours crops.

  It is the belief of this magisterium that ours was not the first world to fall prey to this demonic foe, nor will it be the last. The R'Laar will continue its destructive quest until every world that the Light has created has been consumed by their lust for power.

  I quickly turn another page, forgetting about my sweetroll and instead devouring the words written on the page. I barely feel the jostle of the carriage as the book draws me in.

  Even after old Byhalya was destroyed by the demonic invasion, we still know precious little about the R'Laar and the inner workings of their society. We have a rough understanding of the different demonic species included in the horde, but as for their culture, if there is one, we remain in the dark.

  One thing, however, remains certain: our ability to protect Tarsynium with radiant magic continues to be a thorn in the side of the R'Laar. As a civilization that prides itself in its ability to conquer its foes, it stands to reason that the demonic threat is far from over.

  They will not stop until the last kingdom of man is finally crushed beneath their heel.

  We must remain ever-vigilant if we are to survive.

  I stare at the page for a long moment, reading and rereading the last two se
ntences.

  The last kingdom of man.

  Living beneath the protective shield of the Arc, it is easy to forget that just beyond the radiant energy lies a shattered wasteland filled with monsters just waiting to get inside.

  The thought sends a shiver up my spine.

  A high-pitched screeching sound fills my ears as the carriage comes to a stop. I hear muffled voices speaking outside. For a moment, I wrestle with myself on whether or not I should go outside to see what is going on. Would it be presumptuous of an initiate to leave the carriage?

  After a few moments, my curiosity gets the better of me and I decide to take a look at what has stopped us.

  Snapping the book closed, I sit up and slip my feet back into the soft slippers on the floor. They are comfortable, though I know they will offer little protection out on the road. Setting the book on the bench beside me, I cover it with a pillow then push open the side door, poking my head outside.

  At first, I am momentarily blinded by the sun reflecting on the rolling green fields surrounding us, but my eyes quickly adjust as I take in the brilliance of the Heartlands. We are in the middle of nowhere, without a town or a village anywhere to be seen, and the land itself is vibrant and beautiful, reminding me of an uneven canvass covered in emerald-colored paint.

  The air is cool and fresh, and I take in a deep breath through my nostrils, filling my lungs with the smell of nature. It feels nice to be outdoors after being stuck inside of a musty cabin for hours.

  Craning my neck, I look to see what has caused our caravan to stop, but from this angle I am unable to see around the other.

  "I must advise you to stay inside, my lady," the driver says from atop his perch. "The mages will take care of the problem, and we will be on our way in short order."

  My first reaction is to stick my tongue out at him, but I manage suppress the urge. Instead, I look him dead in the eye and step out onto the hard-packed dirt of the road.

  "I appreciate your concern," I reply, my voice thick with sarcasm. "But I am not a lady. I am an initiate of the Conclave – a mage in training."