Ranger's Oath

by Blake Arthur Peel

  Everyone knows that rangers are an important part of the kingdom, but they are rarely seen in civilized society. The King of Tarsynium pays them to live on the edges of society, guarding the Arc from any outside force that would seek to do the kingdom harm. Mages have always had a healthy distrust of rangers, considering them to be dangerous warriors who adhere to no laws but their own.

  They look like normal men to me. Hardly the stuff of legends.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a kindly old woman who directs me to a side wing of the mansion. She says that this is where the other mages and I will be sleeping, and that we should settle in before supper is served.

  The other mages do not speak to me, or even acknowledge my existence. They look down on me since I have yet to be raised to full mage, and it comes as no surprise when I am given the smallest of the bedrooms, which really is little more than an oversized closet. In truth, I don't really mind. Any initiate would kill to be in the position I am now, traveling across the country with some of the brightest minds the Conclave has to offer.

  I make my way to my new bedroom just as a pair of servants are bringing in my things. Thanking them for their help I begin to unpack, taking out my books and sorting through my clothes.

  A few minutes in I hear a knock at my door, and I look up to see that it is Elva. She is regarding me with a hint of amusement on her otherwise impassive face.

  "How are you feeling?" She asks, stepping inside and clasping her hands in front of her.

  I stand up and try to block her view of my underwear sitting in a pile on my bed. "Excellent, Arch-magister," I say, plastering on a big smile. "The trip was very comfortable, thank you."

  "We've been over this before, child," she says sternly. "You may call me Elva."

  "Forgive me, Elva," I reply, faltering only a little. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  Her eyebrows knit together as stands there, studying me like I am some sort of puzzle to be solved. "You are probably wondering about the true nature of our mission here. You should know that I have kept you in the dark for a reason."

  I give her a questioning look.

  "I wanted to see if you possessed the virtue of patience," he says, continuing. "It is something that many your age lack tremendously. I am pleased to inform you that you have passed my little test. We've been away from the city for three days and not once have you asked why we left in the first place."

  I shrug my shoulders. "I just didn't think that it was my place to ask."

  She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. "I believe that I can trust you, my dear. How would you like to accompany me to a private meeting with the governor?"

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but I quickly reply, "I would be honored, Elva."

  "Excellent," she responds curtly. "We are going to discuss recent events with him and the two rangers that are stationed in this backwater town. The rangers are an outdated organization, relics of an age when men still had reason to fear the world beyond the Arc. However, I have been told that they have become embroiled in the troubles we are here to investigate. No matter how backward these woodsmen may appear, they are not without cunning. Stay alert, and let me do all of the talking. Understood?"

  I nod my head.

  "Good," she replies. "Let us depart." Turning on her heel, she strides out of the room without another word.

  I take a deep breath before following her out into the hall. Time to prove yourself, Zara, I think as I subconsciously touch the talisman hanging from my neck. Don't mess this up.

  Rangers are a reclusive bunch. I never thought I would ever have a chance to meet one of them, much less sit in the same room and have a formal meeting with them. Are they the uncultured bush people that most of the mages think they are, or are they truly the legendary fighters in the stories? I suppose that only time will tell.

  This trip is becoming more interesting by the minute, I think, hurrying to catch up with her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Owyn

  Elias and I wait with Governor Prior in his study, idling away the minutes before the mages come to meet with us. The governor paces anxiously between the window and his desk, muttering to himself and dabbing his forehead every so often. He looks even more nervous than usual, I observe from my place on the far side of the room.

  My master stands as still as a statue beside the governor’s desk, his furrowed brow indicating that he is deep in thought.

  I turn back to stare at the books lining the many shelves on the wall. What does somebody do with this many books? Surely, he doesn't have the time to actually read all of them. The very thought of studying so many books makes my head ache.

  Reading is for people who don’t have anything better to do.

  The door to the study opens and two mage women step inside. The first one is older, probably middle-aged, and I recognize her as the sour-faced leader who met us outside the manor. The second appears to be the same age as me, pretty, with chestnut hair and soft brown eyes. Her expression, even the way that she walks, mirrors what the older woman is doing, and with just a single glance I can tell that her confidence is more feigned than real.

  Probably some spoiled rich girl, I think, watching the way she moves from across the room. This is probably the first time she’s ever left the city.

  My first reaction is to be guarded as the mages enter the study. I draw my lips in a tight line as I regard them. Mages are tricksters, untrustworthy, and masters of manipulation. They use whatever means necessary to get what they want.

  Elias looks the way he always does, stoic and unbending.

  The governor smiles nervously at the newcomers.

  "Please," he says, simpering. He motions for them to enter his study with an emphatic wave of his meaty hands. "Make yourselves at home. My servants are standing by to supply you with anything that you should desire."

  They sit down on the cushy sofa near the hearth. Elias remains standing, and so I decide to do the same. An awkward silence ensues, and Prior shoots us an angry look.

  "Arch-magister Tyrande," he begins after a moment, practically groveling. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

  The older mage, the one he referred to as the Arch-magister, wastes no time in diving right into the discussion.

  "Governor Prior,” she says tersely, “the Conclave has received reports that there has been a disturbance in your province. Care to elaborate?"

  The governor looks stricken. "A... disturbance, Magus? Well, yes, of course. One of our villages has been attacked. But we only learned about it a couple of days ago. Truly. I was going to notify the capital as soon as we were able to gather a little more information –"

  "At ease, governor," the Arch-magister interrupts. "This is not a condemnation. I was merely trying to understand how much you know about the situation."

  "Ah, yes of course." He relaxes a little bit, but still seems to be on edge. He produces his handkerchief again from out of his pocket and begins wiping his upper lip. "One of my tax collectors returned from his rounds early, in shock and babbling that the village of Haven had been attacked. But his mind is now addled. We have not been able to gather more than a little information from him."

  It’s a wonder I’m not addled, having seen what I saw.

  I catch myself glancing again at the younger mage, how her slender body sits primly next to her much less attractive master. She catches me looking at her, brown eyes making contact with mine, and I quickly glance away, my cheeks flushing with heat.

  "Have any attempts been made to look into the incident further?" Elva leans forward, her eyes intent on the sweaty governor.

  Prior nods. "Yes, Magus. I sent the ranger Elias and his apprentice Owyn to investigate the situation. They only returned to Forest Hill last night." He gestures over at us, all too eager to turn the mage's attention away from himself.

  The Arch-magister regards Elias with the same intensity that she had with the governor. She doesn’t even bother to look
at me. "Were you able to learn anything, ranger?"

  Elias seems completely unfazed by her presence. "Yes, Magus. When we arrived at Haven the village had been completely destroyed, its citizens murdered in brutal fashion. We managed to bury the dead before returning to deliver our report."

  The younger mage brings up her hand to cover her mouth in shock.

  The Arch-magister, however, does not seem surprised at all. Instead, she looks like she is mulling over the ranger's words, weighing their sincerity. Eventually, she stands up from her seat and turns to once more regard the governor.

  "Then it is as we feared," she says ominously. "The first blow has been struck. The Nightingales have attacked the sovereign nation of Tarsynium in cold blood."

  My expression twists into one of incredulity, and I am not the only one. Everyone in the room, with the exception of Elias, is looking at the Arch-magister as if she has just declared something completely ridiculous. If the Nightingales attacked, then that would mean all-out war. There hasn't been a real war in Tarsyinium in decades.

  But the old woman is not finished. She fixes both of us with a cold stare and says, "You two will submit yourselves to a panel of mages for interrogation. If there is even a hint that you have been collaborating with the enemy, then I will not hesitate to sentence both of you to exile."

  What in the Eleven Hells? My jaw goes slack as I stare at her in shock. We were out there at the governor's request! We have an alibi! There has always been bad blood between the rangers and the mages, but to threaten us with exile is more than severe... it's bloody psychotic.

  Prior lets out a horrified gasp. “Exile, Magus? Doesn’t that seem a little... extreme?”

  The Arch-magister shakes her head. “The most extreme measures are often the safest, governor. Especially when it comes to traitors. If there is even a small chance that these rangers are involved, we must do what is necessary to protect the realm.”

  Elias takes a step forward, his broad frame appearing to loom over the bitter old mage even from the other side of the room. “My apprentice and I are servants of the realm,” he says in a dangerously low voice. “We have pledged our entire lives to protecting Tarsynium from its enemies. We are not traitors.”

  “This is not a condemnation,” she replies coolly, reiterating what she had told the governor. “We simply need to ensure that there are no connections between you and the rebel insurgents. If it is as you say, and both of you are innocent, then you have nothing to fear. I can assure you that my colleagues and I are honest upholders of justice.”

  The thought of sitting before a panel of mages makes my skin crawl, even though I know there is nothing to fear. I would rather die than find myself working together with the Nightingales. But looking at the Arch-magister’s icy expression sends a shiver down my spine.

  After a moment Elias gives her a curt nod. “Fine,” he growls, though he does break away his intense stare. “We will submit ourselves to your interrogation.”

  “Excellent,” she says evenly, as though she expected this response the whole time. She then turns her gaze back to the governor. “My ward and I will gather the other mages and reconvene shortly. Where, might I ask, would be the best place for us to go?”

  Prior clears his throat. “The basement will probably do just fine, Magus. I’ll have some of my house servants go down at once to clear a space for you.”

  She gives him a slight nod of the head then stands, and I watch as the young brown-haired mage stands as well. “Thank you, governor. Rangers, I shall send for you when we are prepared to commence the hearing. Good day.”

  They stride out of the room without another word.

  As soon as the door closes I turn to Elias. “Master, you cannot seriously be considering submitting yourself to their questions. Mages cannot be trusted!”

  “I will do what I have to,” Elias replies sternly. “And you will as well.”

  I try to rein in my emotions, but the words come tumbling out. “Me? Why? We've done nothing wrong!”

  He folds his arms in front of him looks at me disapprovingly. “Because our fight is not with the mages. They are our allies, no matter how uncomfortable that makes us. Our duty is to the realm. We must do whatever is necessary to get to the bottom of whatever is going on, even if that means sitting before all of those mages and answering their foolish questions.”

  I fight back the desire to curse in frustration.

  Governor Prior grunts as he pushes himself up from his desk, breaking the uncomfortable silence that follows. “Well... I’d better see about preparing the basement. It wouldn’t do to keep the Arch-magister waiting.”

  We follow him out of the room and make our way outside to see to the horses. There was no telling how long this will take, and our animals will need to be fed and watered. Right now, I wish that I could climb into the saddle and ride far away from here.

  The thought of facing monsters in the woods is more appealing than facing down a panel of mages.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zara

  At the urging of the Arch-magister, I make my way with the other ten mages to the basement of Governor Prior's mansion. They whisper with one another quietly about the information Elva had just given them, talking about the rangers and what transpired in the border village of Haven.

  I pause for a moment, staring out a window at the beauty of Forest Hill. Was it a mistake for me to come out here? I think to myself, overwhelmed. It's as if I caught up in something that is much bigger than myself.

  Turning, I follow the blue-robed mages downstairs, already feeling left behind.

  First, I find out that the Nightingale rebels have declared all-out war on the crown. Then, I learn that I am to take part in the interrogation and possible exile of two of the kingdom's rangers. The thought makes me shake my head in wonder. How in the Light did I get wrapped up in all of this?

  As I descend into the wide chamber below the manor, everything starts to feel so surreal. A vain hope remains that I will wake up in my dormitory and realize that I am late for class, and that all of this has been nothing more than a strange dream.

  Only, as I step into the basement, I realize that all of this is real. My choices have led me here, and now I am being forced to live out the consequences.

  Oil lamps have been lit in sconces on the lower level, casting the stone walls in a flickering dim light. Servants have set up chairs in a wide semicircle, all facing one lonely chair resting against the far wall. We all take our seats and wait for Elva to arrive. Some of the mages talk with each other in hushed tones, but I sit quietly on the end, wringing my hands in my lap.

  When Elva finally enters the room she takes her place in the middle of the semicircle, beckoning for the servants to bring in the ranger named Elias.

  I watch as the powerfully-built man comes down the stairs, his eyes hard and his head held high. He is wearing his ranger cloak, but I notice that he no longer carries any weapons with him. Elva must have had them confiscated before the interrogation.

  Light, I think to myself as he sits down across from us. He looks just as dangerous, even without that big knife of his.

  When he is seated, Elva stands up and begins directing the meeting.

  "Elias Keen," she declares authoritatively. "You have been brought before this body to testify of your investigation into the massacre at Haven. Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?"

  Elias looks as if he is carved out of stone. "No," he replies evenly.

  She sits down. "My fellow mages," she says, looking down the line of chairs on either side of her. "You have all been informed about the circumstances surrounding this meeting. You may now ask your questions at will."

  A portly mage by the name of Willus stands up, fixing the ranger with a watery-eyed stare. "Ranger Keen," he asks in a deep voice, "would you recount what happened when you found the village two days ago?"

  Eyes straight ahead, Elias replies tersely, "It was we had indicated to the
Arch-magister."

  After it becomes apparent that no further explanation is forthcoming, Willus lets out a grunt. "Indulge us with the details, if you may."

  "The village was sacked," Elias responds, biting off the words curtly. It is obvious that he resents the fact that is being forced to sit here. "Everyone was killed. My apprentice and I found their bodies hanging from a nearby elder tree by their necks."

  The details of the event are even worse than I had imagined. An entire village? Slaughtered? Suddenly I start to feel very ill.

  Willus, however, looks skeptical. "All of the villagers, Ranger Keen? Hung from a single tree?"

  Elias returns the mage's skepticism with a look of pure iron. "Yes," he replies, deadly serious.

  Another mage, a mousy woman named Torrie, speaks up. "Evoker Willus, an elder tree can grow to be three to four times larger than the common oak. If it was a small village, then such an occurrence is plausible."

  This seems to placate Willus somewhat. But he is not done asking questions. "And what, might I ask, did you and your apprentice do after you found the dead villagers?"

  "We buried them," Elias replies coldly. "In the middle of the village green. Then we returned as quickly as we could to report our findings to the governor."

  Willus nods and sits down, and an elderly mage named Jarrus stands up.

  "Ranger Keen," he asks, "would you please share with us any evidence you were able to uncover at the scene of the crime?"

  "Aside from a few old blood stains and the ruined buildings there was not much evidence to be found. The bodies we buried did not have any visible wounds on them, which seems to indicate that the wounded were carried off. If I were to guess, I would say that this was to hide the nature of the wounds from whoever would find the bodies. As of yet, I do not know who was behind the attack."

  "The attack was perpetrated by the Nightingales," Elva declares, and many of the mages nod their heads in agreement.