Ranger's Oath

by Blake Arthur Peel

  Owyn nods. "Yes, it was. How did you know that?"

  "Mindflaying," I whisper, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place inside my mind.

  "What are you talking about?" He asks, looking concerned.

  I look him directly in the eyes and say with a serious tone, "Owyn, I believe your story. I believe everything."

  His eyebrows shoot straight up. "What?"

  "I need you to take me to the place where you saw the demon," I say quietly, looking around to make sure that I am not being overheard. "Where all of this began. Can we leave Forest Hill tonight?"

  Chapter Seventeen

  Owyn

  The sun has not been up more than two hours and yet I am completely drained from the events of the night. By the time I make it up to my room, I crash on the bed and fall asleep with little trouble, entering a dreamless sleep, the first one I've had in days. By the time I wake up, it is already late afternoon.

  I had slept for most of the day.

  Lifting my head off the pillow, I rub the sleep from my eyes, feeling much better than I had before. The wound on my arm aches painfully, but luckily the stitches seem to be holding up well.

  My mouth, however, feels as dry as cotton, and my stomach protests angrily from lack of food.

  It's been almost a full day since I have last eaten.

  Getting out of bed, I make my way to the washbasin and splash some water on my face, my empty stomach continuing to groan. The cool liquid feels good on my skin, and once I pat myself dry I begin to feel a little more refreshed. I quickly put on my ranger's cloak and boots, then make my way to the door of my bedroom.

  When I pull it open, I notice a plate sitting on a wooden stand in the hallway, filled with food beside a tall glass of water. Mrs. Ellis, the innkeeper's wife, had put it here so that I could eat as soon as I woke up.

  What a wonderful woman, I think to myself, bringing the tray inside. I make a mental note to thank her the next time we talk. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I began to shovel the bread and cheese into my mouth with vigor.

  I barely even taste the food as I eat, washing it down with the water between great, chomping bites. It isn't long until even the crumbs have been devoured, and I lean back against my bedframe, letting out a contented sigh.

  Then, sitting alone on the floor of my room, the memories of what had transpired come rushing back to me, a heavy weight settling over my shoulders. I remember the mage girl, Zara, and the things she told me, and how she wanted to sneak away to the forest tonight and visit the spot where I had seen the demon.

  I also remember the fact that I had killed a man the night before.

  Closing my eyes, I relive the terrible events of the fight, guilt at having killed somebody washing over me like a flood of shame. Of course, I think after a heart-wrenching moment, according to Zara, those men were no longer men at all.

  She had said that the Nightingale agents who had attacked us had likely been subject to mindflaying, which she explained was a spell that demons cast on humans so that they could control them. One of the signature side effects of mindflaying was the white film covering the victim's irises, as well as a tendency to become bloodthirsty and wild.

  She had called these victims mind slaves.

  I bury my face in my hands and shake my head. What in the Eleven Hells is that crazy girl thinking? Going out into the Emberwood when there are Nightingales or worse roaming the woods!

  Still, the mindflaying would explain why the Nightingale scouts would brazenly attack Forest Hill, and why they seemed to fight in such a wild and reckless way.

  And Zara was the only person who believes that I actually saw a demon.

  Sighing, I push myself to my feet and test my arm by rotating it like a windmill. The muscles are achy, and there is a sharp pain radiating from my wound. I am going to have to be careful not to over exert myself, at least until the stitches heal. What does she expect to find in visiting that clearing, anyway? I find myself thinking as I test out my arm. The demon seemed to vanish after I told Elias about it.

  Darkhound, I mentally correct myself. She had said that it was a darkhound.

  I make my way to the window and stare through the glass at the rolling slope of the hill in front of the inn. There are still a few hours before sundown – more than enough time to pack.

  "No," I say aloud to myself, turning away and sitting down on my mattress. "Absolutely not. I have an oath to live up to, a duty to the realm. I can't just go abandoning my master to go chasing shadows."

  But wasn't the Ranger's Oath about protecting the realm against such things?

  The words from the pledge come echoing back to my mind:

  Our solemn oath is to protect the borders of the realms of men, from those enemies who would seek our destruction.

  We will sacrifice all, even our very lives, for the defense of the kingdom...

  I let out a groan. Walking on hot coals sounds more appealing to me than going out and searching for demons with some pretentious mage girl from Tarsys.

  And yet, in my gut, I know that it was the right thing to do.

  Plus, I think to myself with the barest hint of a wry smile, she isn't hard to look at. Even if she is a mage.

  Getting up from the bed, I trudge over to my pack and begin loading my things. I stuff clothing, blankets, tinder, and a whetstone into my saddlebags, along with anything else I might need for the journey.

  I quickly realize that we are going to need food while we are out there. There will be little time for hunting. Somehow, I am going to have to make my way down to the kitchen and steal some provisions without anybody seeing me. Of course, I would have to leave Mr. and Mrs. Ellis some money to reimburse them for what I took, but the thought of sneaking away without telling anyone makes me uneasy.

  Especially when my thoughts turn to Elias.

  Hopefully my master will be gone long enough for me to slip away. I can't imagine that he is being idle while I rest. To be perfectly honest, my guess is that he is out with some of the men from town, scouting the woods to make sure that no other Nightingales are lurking around.

  I take a moment to restring my bow and fill my quiver to capacity with arrows. Then, I move to pick up my father's hatchet, noticing that it is still encrusted with blood from last night. I stare at it for a moment, leaning against the wall, then proceed to clean it in my washbasin. Dunking it into the water, I use my fingernails to scrub the blade, the water quickly turning a deep red as the blood comes off. When it is finally clean, I dry it with a washcloth and slide it into my belt.

  With my pack full, I move to the small desk next to my bed and sit down, pulling out a blank scrap of parchment and a quill. Thinking quickly, I begin writing a note to Elias, explaining why I am leaving and asking him not to follow me. I am not a very good writer, and I know that he is not one for reading, so I keep it short.

  Hopefully, my note will help lessen the anger and worry he will no doubt feel once he finds out that I am gone.

  Taking a breath, I get up and shoulder my saddlebags, then step out into the hallway, my jaw set in determination.

  As I make my way over to the stairs, I try to be as stealthy as possible. I creep slowly, careful to step lightly so that I avoid making the floorboards creak, and peek around the corners over every open door to ensure that I am alone. The second floor of the inn appears to be deserted, so I inch over to the staircase and begin slowly descending the steps.

  When I reach the bottom, I find that the common room is empty. The glass and the debris from the fight had been cleaned up, and I notice that the bodies are gone as well. Most of the furniture is gone too, having been damaged in the fighting, though several dark stains remain on the wooden floorboards. It is going to take a lot of work to sand those down and erase that there had ever been blood there.

  Looking around to make sure that I am alone, I walk over to the kitchen to begin to search for supplies. It appears to be empty as well, so I slip behind the counter and open
the pantry door. There, I find salted venison, fruits, bread, cheese, and several jars of preserves.

  I begin stuffing as many of them as I can into my pack, trying to move quickly before anyone can come in and discover what I am doing.

  My heart leaps into my throat when I hear footsteps coming from down the hall.

  Cursing under my breath, I close the door and duck down to a crawlspace in the stone beside the furnace. It is a tight fit with my saddlebags, but I manage to squeeze in just as Mrs. Ellis walks into the kitchen, humming a tune under her breath.

  She busies herself with something on one of the tables against the far wall, oblivious to my presence just behind her.

  It's only a matter of time before she turns around and sees me crouching here, I think to myself frantically. I need to do something.

  My answer comes in the form of a small stone I spot resting on the rim of the furnace. Trying not to make any noise, I shift my body and pick up the stone, hurling it down the hall and into the common room. It clatters loudly on the floorboards.

  "James?" Mrs. Ellis asks, pausing in whatever it is she is doing. "Is that you?"

  She turns and walks into the common room, her eyes sweeping over my position without seeing me. I don't even dare to breathe until she is out of the kitchen.

  When she is gone, I emerge from my hiding place and make a break for the back door, but not before pausing to thumb out a few coins onto the counter to pay for the items that I took.

  Then, I quietly open the door and step out into the field behind the inn, not looking behind me.

  The stable is on the side of the building, a squat wooden structure capable of housing half a dozen horses or so.

  Luckily the Ellis' do not have a stableboy, so I don't run into any resistance as I enter and begin untying my chestnut brown mare. I pat her haunches as I load up my saddlebags, whispering calming words as I get her ready for departure. Then a thought strikes me.

  Zara arrived with the other mages in those fancy carriages. She probably doesn't have a horse of her own.

  I bite my lip and look around, trying to find a solution in the dim light of the setting sun. Taking food without asking is one thing, but I don't want to steal a horse if I can help it. Especially if anyone needs it to travel. When my eyes fall on Elias' pack mule, I smile.

  I seriously doubt that Elias will be going on any hunts any time soon.

  A few minutes later, I ride out of the stable on my mare, guiding the pack mule by the reins as well.

  There is only one road leading up to the top of the hill, but at this hour it is undoubtedly bustling with activity. Instead, I decide to ride into the woods behind the inn to avoid being seen. The terrain is rough, but I know of at least one trail that will lead me up to the governor's mansion. Hopefully that is where I will be able to meet up with Zara.

  Glancing at the setting sun, I click my tongue and urge the horse and the mule to go a little faster. I'll have to hurry if I am going to make it to the top before sundown.

  Every second that passes brings me one step closer to the concealing darkness of night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zara

  A breeze rustles leaves in the darkness, sounding like a thousand hissing snakes around me. I pull my initiate cloak tighter against the chill, knowing full well that my shiver has nothing to do with the cold.

  The thick grey fabric is hardly enough to protect me from whatever menace is lurking in the woods.

  Night has already fallen, and I stand by a cluster of trees outside of the governor's manor, clutching my bag tightly against my chest.

  Light almighty, if Owyn does not show up I am going to feel like the world's biggest fool.

  A twig snaps somewhere behind me and I spin, touching my crystal talisman and pulling in source energy. I drop my pack and am about to fill my palms with magefyre when the ranger's apprentice materializes out of the shadows, holding the reins of a pair of horses.

  "Sorry," he whispers, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  I release the source energy and pick up my bag with a scowl. "You did not scare me," I say indignantly. "You only startled me a little. What took you so long, anyway? I've been waiting here for half an hour!"

  "I had to make sure that there was no one watching us before I came up here." He hands me the reins to one of the horses. "The whole village is on edge with the recent attacks, and I did not want to leave without the full cover of darkness."

  "Oh," I reply, my annoyance somewhat melting away. "I suppose that makes sense."

  I look from him to the horse warily, not really sure how I should proceed. The great beast is saddled, and it looks at me placidly with brown eyes that are reflecting the light of the moon. Even so, I can't help but feel a little uneasy about mounting the animal and riding it through the forest in the dark.

  Owyn gives me a strange look. "You do know how to ride, don't you?"

  I shrug, trying hard to feign nonchalance. "I've seen it done before. How hard can it be?"

  His jaw drops open, incredulous. "You've never ridden before?"

  "Look, bumpkin," I hiss, annoyance creeping back into my voice. "I've spent the last five years living in Tarsys, training so that I could become a mage. There weren't a lot of opportunities to ride horses. So how about instead of standing there, slack-jawed, you just tell me how to do it, okay?"

  His expression darkens, and I feel a slight twinge of guilt at letting my temper get the best of me. He deserved it, I find myself thinking. He doesn't seem to grasp the fact that we need to get out of here in a hurry.

  He takes my pack and roughly attaches it behind the saddle with some ropes. "This isn't a horse, by the way," he says quietly, rolling his eyes at me. "It's a mule. But I'll show you how to ride it in any case."

  "Whatever," I snap. "Just tell me the basics, okay farm boy?"

  He glowers at me, but proceeds with a quick lesson. "Pull on the reins to get her to stop. When you're riding, use your legs to guide her. You can also tug on the bit depending on which side you want to go." He then points to the stirrups. "Use these to get her to go faster by kicking her with your heels. Don't worry, you're not going to hurt her. Other than that, follow me and you should be alright." He steps back, folding his arms and glaring. "Happy?"

  "Thank you," I say, smiling sweetly. "Was that really so hard?"

  He grunts and then walks over to his own horse, pulling himself up with ease and settling into his saddle.

  He makes it look so easy.

  Hiking up my skirts, I put one of my feet in the stirrups and clumsily pull myself onto the mule. "Okay," I mutter under my breath, "you can do this Zara." I gently tap my heels against its belly and it lurches forward, causing me to squeak in a very unflattering way.

  Smirking at me, Owyn guides his mount effortlessly through the trees and begins riding down the hill. He doesn’t look back to see if I am following.

  We take a winding, twisting path down the hill, avoiding most of the buildings and terraced farms built into its side. The game trails we follow are extremely narrow, and the path is often treacherous. I spend most of the trip holding my reins in a white knuckled grip and whispering softly to myself that everything is going to be alright.

  Eventually, however, the hill levels out and we begin making our way into the dense forest, the lights of the town fading into the distance behind us.

  Despite the cloudless sky and the stars overhead, the woods remain perilously dark, and I have a difficult time seeing our surroundings. Luckily, Owyn seems to know where he is going, and I make certain that I remain close on his horse's tail to avoid getting lost in the trees.

  It is not long before we are alone in the wilderness, all signs of civilization left behind. When I had first arrived in the Emberwood, I had thought the forest had looked so beautiful. Now, the trees look like menacing skeletons, reaching their gnarled fingers toward me in the dark.

  I hope that I am not making a colossal mistak
e, I think to myself, trying to ignore my overactive imagination. This could be one of the biggest discoveries in centuries! If there is a hole in the Arc and demons are getting through, I am obligated to go out and investigate. Elva will understand, won't she?

  Somehow I doubt it. The Arch-magister does not seem like the forgiving type.

  It feels like hours before Owyn finally pulls his horse to a stop, though in truth I have no idea how long we have been riding. Time his hard to discern without the help of the sun.

  "We'll camp here for the night," he says, sliding out of the saddle and leading his horse into a small clearing. "We can set back out at first light."

  "Why are we stopping? Shouldn't we put more distance between ourselves and Forest Hill?"

  "No," he says, tethering the reins to a tree. "We've gone far enough. Riding in the dark is dangerous, and I don't want to do any more than is necessary. Besides, we are still a good distance from where I saw the demon, or darkhound, or whatever it is called. We'll need some rest in order to complete the journey."

  The mention of the demon helps to put things in perspective. It also casts a pall over the both of us. Without saying another word of protest, I dismount and tether my mount, then begin untying my pack.

  I watch out of the corner of my eye as Owyn clears away some of the debris, picking up fallen branches and stones and tossing them to the side. I imagine he is doing this in order to make room for the tent.

  Pulling my pack free from the saddle, I approach him and set it down in some ferns. "Do you need help lighting the fire?"

  He shakes his head. "No fires."

  "No fires?" I ask, disbelieving. "How are we supposed to eat?"

  "I have plenty of jerky," he says simply, still working on cleaning the forest floor. "And bread. Things that don't need to be cooked. If my master comes out looking for me, I don't want to lead him right to us."

  I sigh. "Fine. At least we will be warm in the tent."

  He reaches for his pack and begins pulling out his bedroll. "No tents, either."