Ranger's Oath

by Blake Arthur Peel

  "I do not believe that is true," Elias responds. I am amazed at how blunt the man is when facing down an entire room of mages.

  There are more than a few mutters at the ranger's comment.

  "And why do you think that the Nightingales are not involved?" Elva asks, raising one of her eyebrows. "I find it peculiar that you would be so eager to defend them."

  "I am not defending them," Elias replies simply. "I am only stating the facts as I understand them. The Nightingales have always been content to raid granaries owned by the king or to rob tax collectors. They've never been in the business of executing entire communities of innocent people. Their war is with the king, not with his subjects."

  I watch as Elva leans forward, regarding Elias like he is some anomaly to be studied. "Curious," she says after a moment before settling back in her chair. "Elias Keen, are you prepared to swear before this magical tribunal that you are in no way involved with the Nightingales, or their attack on the village of Haven?"

  "I swear," he says, without breaking eye contact.

  "Very well." She stands up again and casts her eyes around the room. "All those who believe the ranger Elias Keen to be innocent in collaborating with the Nightingale rebels, please raise your right hand."

  I raise my hand, along with most of the other mages in the circle, though not including the Arch-magister.

  After a quick count, Elva nods her head. "The majority stands with the accused. Ranger Keen, you are free to go. But know that we will be keeping an eye on you."

  Without saying another word, Elias stands up and exits the chamber, moving with an easy grace that reminds me of a mountain lion. I can barely hear his footsteps as he strides past.

  A wiry servant girl pokes her head in the room, and Elva tells her to bring in the ranger's apprentice, Owyn.

  We wait for a few minutes before the younger ranger enters the room and sits down in the chair. He looks like he is trying to be brave, but it is a poor front. The boy is clearly nervous.

  Owyn glances around the room, looking like a cornered animal, but he sets his jaw and looks at right at Elva, expression grim. His eyes catch my attention, and I find myself studying them from across the room. They seem to belay his age, with hard lines at the corners that should not belong to one so young. There is intelligence there, but also sadness.

  Those eyes have a dark, almost haunted cast to them.

  "Owyn Lund," Elva says, the quiet conversations in the room dying down. "You have been brought before this body to testify of what you saw in Haven. Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?"

  He shakes his head. "No, Magus." There is no defiance in his tone, only thinly veiled timidity.

  Has this boy ever even seen a mage before?

  Elva opens the interrogation as she had before, asking her fellow mages to ask their questions.

  Jarrus, who was interrupted before, stands up again and begins speaking. "Ranger Lund, in your own words what transpired in the village of Haven?"

  Owyn takes a deep breath. "We had just returned from a hunting trip when Governor Prior told us about the attack at Haven. He wanted us to go there as soon as possible to investigate so that he could know exactly what was going on. My master and I set off immediately, barely stopping to rest, but when we arrived,” his voice trails off as if reliving a traumatic memory. After a brief hesitation, he continues. "It was all gone."

  He visibly shudders, then takes another breath, regaining his composure.

  "It looked like Haven had been hit by an army. We found all the villagers... even the children, dead in the village's elder tree. It was as if they had been hung there specifically so that we would find them."

  Jarrus, unperturbed by Owyn's story, continues with his questioning. "And what did you and your master do next, Ranger Lund?"

  "We buried them," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

  It was clear that recounting the tale is dredging up some painful memories. As I sit here, I cannot help but feel sorry for him.

  Next, a plain woman stands. I cannot remember her name.

  "You are very young, Ranger Lund, but that still does not put you above suspicion. To the best of your knowledge, have you or your master ever conspired with the rebels who call themselves the Nightingales?"

  Owyn's eyes widen in shock. "No, Magus. Never. I swear it!"

  "This is a safe place, child," she says, pressing the point. "You may speak out against Ranger Keen without any repercussions if he is in any way involved."

  It could be my imagination, but for a split second I think that I see a flash of anger in his eyes.

  "No," he says firmly. "Elias is a great man who follows his duties above all else. There is no way that he is involved in any of this."

  The plain woman sits down as Elva speaks up. "Strong words coming from a mere apprentice," she sounds vaguely impressed. "However, I would like to echo my associate's words. This is a safe environment. You may speak freely here. Is there anything that transpired in the last week that you would like us to know?"

  I watch as Owyn seems to be wrestling with something, an internal struggle about whether or not he should say something. I assume that Elva can sense it as well.

  "I swear as the Arch-magister," she presses gently, "that your words will have no consequences in this room." I can tell that she is trying to sound welcoming, but it comes off rather patronizing.

  Still, it appears that her prodding may be working.

  Owyn clears his throat. "You promise not to tell my master?"

  Elva nods. "I promise."

  "Alright," he says, resigned. "I... may have seen something in the woods while my master and I were out hunting. Before we went to Haven."

  Collectively the mages lean forward, hanging on every word that he speaks.

  He continues. "I had just felled a stag with my bow when we were making our way back to Forest Hill. We stumbled upon something in the woods, a clearing full of deer. Only, the deer had all been killed. Torn apart. It was a meadow full of body parts that had been left out to rot in the sun."

  I lean forward as well, suddenly very intrigued by the young man's story.

  "There were no carrion eaters in the clearing, and we could not locate any visible tracks or signs of struggle. Elias thought that it must have been a rabid animal. Maybe a wolf or a cougar. He left to go mark the spot on his map, and that's when I saw it. Something lurking in the trees."

  "What did you see?" Willus asks, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

  "A demon," he says, and I can feel my blood run cold.

  Almost everybody in the rooms bursts into laughter, chuckling loudly at the young man's claim. The only two mages not laughing are myself and Arch-magister Tyrande.

  She is chewing her lip in an odd display of nerves, her eyes narrowed at the apprentice.

  "Can you describe this creature?" She asks over the sound of her colleagues' laughter.

  Owyn's face starts to flush a deep crimson. "It was large and moved on all fours like a bear, only it was not a bear. It moved like a panther, and had a head like a great dog or a wolf. It had huge claws and glowing red eyes." He seems ashamed for even having brought it up. "I know it sounds crazy, but I've seen every predator in the Emberwood, and this thing did not look like any of them."

  The laughter dies down as Elva stands, her face as serious as I have ever seen it. She silences the last of the snickering with a cutting motion of her hand. "All those who believe the ranger Owyn Lund to be innocent in collaborating with the Nightingale rebels, please raise your right hand."

  Everybody raises their hands.

  "You are free to go, Ranger Lund," Elva says, lowering her arm. "But a word of caution for you. Claiming that you have seen a demon in Tarsynium is a serious offense. If any citizens were to believe your story, it could cause a panic that could badly weaken the kingdom, and give the rebels an opportunity to seize for power. I would admonish you to never bring this up again, to anyone. Your ability to sp
eak freely ends when you leave this room. Is that understood?"

  Owyn nods, looking more than a little crestfallen.

  "Excellent," Elva says. "You are dismissed."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Owyn

  As I step out of the interrogation room, I feel like a complete and utter fool.

  Why in the Eleven Hells did I bring up the demon? I should never have even mentioned that part. Light, I am such an idiot.

  I pass several servants on my way up the stairs, but I rush past them, intent on getting out of there as fast as possible. When I step out into the main hall, though, I find Elias waiting for me with my weapons in-hand. He gives me my bow and my quiver, then hands over my hatchet as well.

  The grip of the miniature axe feels good as I accept it, and I quickly slide it into my belt loop, glancing up at Elias.

  "How did it go?" He asks quietly.

  "Aside from making a fool out of myself, I'd say it went well." I reply, forcing a smile.

  He nods. "Mages can have that effect on people. Especially ones like the Arch-magister. The more you deal with them, the less that will happen."

  We leave the governor's manor without as much as a word to anyone else, making our way down the steps and toward our horses in the stable.

  "I brought up the demon in the interrogation," I finally admit as I lead my horse out by the reins.

  He regards me silently for a moment, then asks, "How did that go?"

  I sigh. "About as well as you might expect. They laughed at me and told me to never speak about it again."

  Elias grunts. "That sounds about right."

  We mount up and begin riding down the hill, the cool wind feeling good on my flushed face. After that debacle with the mages, I am glad to be getting far away from here.

  It is not long before we pull up in front of the town's inn. The wooden two-story building has been our home ever since coming to Forest Hill, and as we approach my nostrils fill with the scent of cooking meat, which causes my mouth to water.

  We tether the horses in a stall, making sure that they have plenty of feed and water, then make our way to the front door.

  I pause, however, before going up the steps.

  "What's wrong?" Elias asks, turning to look curiously at me.

  "There’s still some daylight left," I reply after a brief hesitation. My stomach rumbles but I ignore it. "I think I'm going to take some time and train for a bit. I'll come back later for supper."

  Elias eyes me for a moment before finally nodding and heading inside. Warmth and sounds of laughter gush out as the door opens, but instead of following him I make my way around the back of the inn, where a private yard has been carved into the hillside. It is well-manicured and green, complete with a wooden practice dummy and several bales of hay with canvas targets. Many of the local hunters use this area to practice with the bow, but lately Elias and I have used it for training.

  I set down my pack and walk over to the practice dummy. It is a wooden replica of a man, and it is holding a mock sword and shield in the rough approximation of a fighting position. Blowing out a breath, I pull out my hatchet and begin hacking away at the dummy, practicing different techniques with heavy strokes.

  Thunk.

  The blade sinks into the wood with a dull thud.

  Thunk.

  I pull it out and attack again in quick succession.

  Thunk. Thunk.

  It feels good to vent my frustrations on the practice dummy. The exertion works my muscles and helps me to relieve the anger that has been building up inside.

  The nerve of those arrogant mages, I think, continuing to whack the thing with my hatchet. Are they so confident in their magic that they can't entertain the possibility of a demon getting through the Arc?

  Thunk.

  I know what I saw. That creature was real... no matter what anyone else says.

  Thunk.

  As I train my thoughts turn to the mangled deer, and then to the villagers, slaughtered women and children hanging like rag dolls from the elder tree. My attacks take on a new intensity. I savagely hack at the wood until my muscles are burning and my hatchet blade begins to dull.

  Panting, I take a step back and examine the dummy. It has been chipped and gouged to the point where it is barely recognizable.

  Light, I'm going to have to carve us a new one pretty soon.

  I hang the hatchet on my belt and go to grab my bow, pulling an arrow from the quiver on the ground and knocking it to the string. Taking a few steps back, I pull, aiming down the shaft and taking a bead on the dummy's chopped-up head.

  Letting out a breath, I loose, the arrow launching across the field in the blink of an eye and thudding right in the middle of the wooden man's head.

  The demon, the village, the mages... all of this is connected somehow. It has to be. But why is it that I am the only one who seems concerned? Elias said it himself. The Nightingales, Light curse them, are not involved. If it is not them, then who killed those villagers?

  I shoot another arrow, this time hitting it directly in the heart, then another, hitting it in the torso.

  The older mage woman, the Arch-magister, she did not laugh at me. In fact, she seemed to turn angry when I brought up seeing the demon. Why would that be her reaction?

  Picking up another arrow, I accidentally nick myself on the finger, drawing blood. I curse and throw it to the ground, anger once again bubbling up inside of me.

  None of this is fair. None of it. All I want to do is help, but no one will believe my story.

  I drop my bow and pull out my hatchet. Letting out a scream of frustration, I throw it at the dummy, hitting it square in the forehead, the blade biting deep into the wood. When my vision clears I notice something strange about the arrow I had shot before.

  I have split it right down the middle.

  The fury seeps out of me as I jog up to the dummy, replaced with amazement at what I have managed to do. I had apparently thrown the hatchet so perfectly that I managed to cleave the arrow in two.

  Despite myself, a small self-satisfied smile splits my face as I pull the hatchet out, the two halves of the arrow falling lightly to the grass.

  I wonder if Elias has ever managed to do that in all his years as a ranger?

  Abruptly, my stomach growls, reminding me that I am famished. Giving one final look at the mangled dummy, I bend down and pick up my gear. I unstring my bow and make my way back around to the front door, feeling slightly better than I had before. My weapons training has done much to temper my anger, but I still find myself troubled by recent events.

  Something strange is definitely afoot, and I'm not sure Elias and I are equipped to handle it.

  Pushing open the door, I enter the common room of the inn. It is a wide room filled with tables and glowing candlelight, as well as the sounds, smells and sights associated with most taverns. There is a fire roaring in the hearth and someone strumming a lute in the far corner. Men play dice and drink, laughing while serving girls bring them mugs of ale from behind the bar.

  Many of them glance up at me as I step inside, but quickly return to their activities, recognizing me as the ranger's apprentice. If any had heard me yelling outside, they give no indication now.

  I find Elias sitting alone at a table on the far side of the room, hunched over a bowl of stew, and I move to sit next to him. As I pick my way through the common room I overhear conversations buzzing around me.

  "What do you think those mages are doing sniffing around here?"

  "Didn't you hear? They've come to demand more taxes for the capital."

  "That's not what I heard. I heard that they're here to put down a rebellion started by the Nightingales in the north."

  "Damn Nightingales. Traitors and charlatans, all of them."

  Their voices fade from earshot as I approach Elias' table, and I take my seat after setting my pack down on the floor. "How's the stew?" I ask, waving at a serving girl to bring me some food.

  Elias g
runts as he shovels a spoonful of beef broth into his mouth.

  "It smells good," I say, leaning back in my chair. Although, I think wryly, anything sounds good after weeks of living on venison and dried bread.

  He swallows and fixes me with one of his stony stares. "How was training?"

  I shrug my shoulders. "I'll probably need to sharpen my axe tonight."

  His lips turn up slightly on one side. "That sounds familiar."

  The server brings over a steaming bowl of stew and a mug of chilled wine. I thank her, grateful that the matronly woman remembered that I do not like drinking ale.

  "I've been thinking," Elias says quietly as I plunge my spoon into the broth. "Those mages do have something of a point."

  I give him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

  "Our oath states that our job is to protect the people of Tarsynium. Inciting irrational panic is the opposite of that." He says it with all the tact of a sledgehammer.

  Immediately my heart sinks. "You don't want me to talk about the demon anymore, do you?"

  He shakes his head. "I do not think that it would be wise. At least not until we have more information about what we are dealing with. I'm not saying you're in the wrong. I'm just saying that when mages are concerned, we should move forward with extreme caution. Their authority supersedes our own in these kinds of situations."

  I nod, but inside I can't help but feel a little betrayed. Doesn't he trust me? Haven't I proven myself to be a good apprentice? I push all thoughts of being a ranger out of my mind. If nobody is going to believe me, I am going to stop pushing the subject. Maybe they are right, and maybe I've just been jumping at shadows.

  Maybe I am wrong.

  Choosing to shove all thoughts of this aside, I lean forward and begin digging into my stew.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zara

  A ball of magefyre floats in the air beside my head, smoldering with a soft blue light that casts long shadows in my bedroom. I sit cross-legged on the lumpy bed, engrossed in my book on demonology as the day grows late outside the room's only window.