Ranger's Oath

by Blake Arthur Peel

  A few of the soldiers help the wounded Barus from his place behind Owyn, but he is in no place to confront the crowd. That responsibility falls, strangely, on Elias' shoulders.

  The grizzled ranger dismounts and faces the eager onlookers with a grim expression, and I find myself annoyed by how well-rested and unperturbed he appears. How is it that nothing in the world ever seems to bother him? I shake my head and force my sore limbs to get me out of the saddle, walking over to where he is standing.

  Owyn comes and stands next to me.

  Raising his arms to quiet the crowd, Elias begins to speak. “Please. Please! One question at a time.”

  Someone shouts above the din and the gathered Nightingales finally begin to quiet down. “What happened out there?”

  “It was a slaughter,” Elias replies stoically. “We're all that’s left."

  People begin to murmur to one another. Someone else raises a hand. “What about General Pyke?”

  Elias shakes his head. “I’m afraid that he is dead. He was killed fighting Moloch in single combat. He died bravely.”

  More murmuring.

  Elias continues. “They were waiting for us. We were lured into a canyon and ambushed by both demons and turned Nightingales. It was probably just a fraction of Moloch’s army, and yet it was all they needed to completely wipe us out.”

  Somebody steps forward. I recognize him as one of the men charged with ‘escorting’ us on our first night here. “That means Barus is now our commanding officer. We need to defer to his judgment on how we should proceed.”

  “Barus is in no condition to command anybody,” Elias declares, staring the man down with his iron gaze. “He needs rest and time to heal. In the meantime, Dagger’s Point should double the guard and prepare for war.”

  “Who are you to make demands of us?” A bald Nightingale shouts angrily. There are more than a few nods and mutters words of agreement. “You’re nothing but a kingsman. We don’t take orders from you!”

  Elias does not back down. “I’m the man who rescued your men and pulled us out of that Light-forsaken canyon,” he snaps. His intensity is enough to make the man take a step back. “If it weren’t for us, everyone would have been massacred by the demons and you would be left here wondering what had happened. Then it would be too late to do anything of consequence.”

  Most everybody tries to avoid his gaze, the mood of the crowd growing sober in the failing light.

  “The only hope we have,” the ranger continues without missing a beat, “is for us to stand together. Moloch does not see Nightingale and kingsman. He sees humans of Tarsynium, those he seeks to conquer and turn into slaves. Our petty quarrels mean nothing if this kingdom falls to their might.”

  With that he turns on his heel and begins making his way to the great hall on the far side of the courtyard. Owyn and I glance at each other, then race to follow him up the stairs.

  “That was a good speech,” Owyn comments when we reach him. “Do you think they’ll listen?"

  “They’d better,” Elias replies gruffly.

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  “Because if they don’t, every single one of us will be dead before the winter sets in.”

  Pushing open the double doors, we step into the main hall of the wooden lodge, looking more like ragged refugees than conquering heroes. A pair of guards hurriedly steps up to us from their place by the braziers, spears held nervously in their hands.

  “Where is Barus?” Elias demands, approaching them without even slowing his stride. “We need to speak with him immediately."

  “The captain,” one of them replies, before grimacing and correcting himself, “I mean, the general, is not to be disturbed.”

  “The fate of the Emberwood hangs in the balance,” Elias growls, looming over both of them as he stops just before the tips of their spears. “It is imperative that we speak with him. Now.”

  They look nervously at each other, but after a moment they lower their spears and step aside. “In the back,” one of them replies, casting his eyes downward. “The surgeons are seeing to his wounds.” As if to emphasize his point, a muffled scream comes from a room behind the braziers.

  We proceed forward without another word.

  Elias opens the door and I can see Barus laying on a bed, his shirt off and a rolled-up piece of leather clenched in his teeth. A woman with a white apron and bloodstained hands is pulling something out of his upper arm with a pair of forceps. Tears spring into his eyes from the pain she is causing.

  With a mighty tug, the surgeon finally manages to pull something out of the ghastly cut on Barus’ arm: the broken head of a crossbow bolt. The bearded man leans back on the pillows and the leather falls from his lips with a sigh.

  The surgeon places the forceps and the metal shard into a small bowl and then begins stitching up the wound.

  Wincing, Barus looks up at us with glassy eyes. “Ah, the rangers and the mage.” His voice is husky, whether from exhaustion or emotion, I cannot tell. “What can I do for you?”

  “How are you feeling?” Elias asks, his voice carrying little compassion.

  Despite everything, Barus grins. “Considering the fact that I've lost my general and half my body weight in blood, I’d say I’m doing well.” Then his smile turns to a snarl as the surgeon tugs one of the stitches tight. It's been hours since our battle in the canyon, and I can already tell from the swollen red flesh that an infection is setting in.

  “You are now the general of Dagger’s Point,” Elias states matter-of-factly. “We need your advice. And your help.”

  “My help,” Barus breathes, resting his head back against the headboard. “I cannot even help myself. It's my fault that we rode headlong into that trap. I persuaded General Pyke to go. His death... all of their deaths are on my hands.”

  “We can still make this right,” Elias insists, stepping closer to the wounded man and taking a knee at the side of the bed. “I need your help if we are going to prevent any more deaths in the future. We still have a chance to save the Emberwood, maybe even Tarsynium itself.”

  Barus looks at each of us and grimaces as the surgeon pulls the final stitch tight, looping the gut to form a knot. “You saved my life back there,” he says thoughtfully, “even though you had every reason to leave me behind. I captured you. I mistreated you. And you repaid me by giving my life back to me.” Shifting in his bed, he tries to sit up but falls back on the pillows with a grunt. He says the next words through gritted teeth. “If there is anything I can do to repay that debt, consider it done.”

  Elias looks back at us, and I see the barest hint of a smile on his weathered face. Turning back to regard the new general, he speaks with a careful tone. “You remember as well as I do what the scout told us. Moloch plans to march on Forest Hill and consume the entire Emberwood. We cannot let this happen.”

  Barus raises a bushy eyebrow. “So what do you propose?”

  “We need the rest of your troops to defend Forest Hill, to stand and fight so that we can put a stop to this once and for all. Only by standing together can we hope to defeat Moloch.”

  The bearded general lets out a wheezy chuckle. “Even if I could convince my Nightingales to march to your defense, what makes you think that your governor would even want our help?”

  “We can convince him,” Owyn says, speaking up. “I'm sure that we can.”

  “And I can speak with the mages,” I add, squaring my shoulders and lifting my head high. "There has to be a way to get them to listen to us."

  Elias nods in approval.

  Barus actually appears to be considering our proposal. “It will be extremely difficult, getting our two sides to work together. And even if we do succeed, we all know what the demons are capable of. We will be hard pressed to stop them before they consume the entire kingdom.”

  “So, can we count on your help?” Elias asks, extending a hand for him to shake.

  After considering for another moment, Barus takes his hand. “You h
ave my word,” he replies.

  I feel a wash of relief spread through my entire body. Perhaps we do have a chance to win after all.

  “I will spread the word to my people,” he continues. “They will be ready to depart by dawn. You’ll have fifty archers and a hundred swords at your disposal. Make those demons pay for every single one of my men they’ve butchered.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Owyn

  “I never thanked you for saving my life back there,” I say awkwardly, pulling my horse up to Zara’s. “I would have been a goner if you hadn’t used your shield to stop the arrows in that canyon.”

  She glances over at me, one of her eyebrows arching up. “And what about the fireballs?”

  For a moment I am taken aback. “The fireballs?”

  “Yes. I seem to remember burning a few of those demons before they could make you their dinner.”

  “Oh yeah,” I reply lamely, my cheeks growing hot. “How could I forget?”

  “I also recall shielding you from that darkhound several days ago," she continues, lips turning up into a self-satisfied smile. "I burned that one with magefyre as well.”

  My embarrassment begins to cool, replaced with a mild annoyance. “Yes, yes. You’ve saved me more than just once. Thank you, oh gracious Magus.”

  “Five times,” she corrects, voice cool.

  “What?"

  “I’ve saved you five times.”

  I stare at her, jaw hanging open, utterly flabbergasted by her arrogance. I'm trying to thank you, you little...

  Then I see her face break out in a grin.

  “Oh,” I reply, my annoyance subsiding somewhat. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Astute observation, ranger,” she declares, offering a mock bow in her saddle. “And you're very welcome. I serve Tarsynium in any way I can.”

  I fix her with a stoic expression, trying hard to emulate Elias, but the façade cracks and I find myself smiling as well.

  "There's a smile," she says, pointing at my face. "Careful, Owyn, you wouldn't want your master to see – he might reprimand you for actually enjoying a pleasant conversation."

  She giggles as my cheeks flush once again, and several of the Nightingales marching beside us roll their eyes.

  “I really do owe you,” I reply when her laughter subsides. “You just wait. The next time there is a battle, I will be there to pull you out of danger.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she says, still grinning that mischievous grin of hers.

  For a time, we ride in silence in the middle of the long column of soldiers. We have been on the road for several hours, the midmorning sun filtering through the tree branches above us and offering spots of light in the forest gloom. I can already see hints of the coming autumn in the woods around us, the faint scent of decay mingling with the late summer air.

  By the time I look back at Zara, the momentary humor we had felt has vanished like smoke on the wind. “Do you really believe you can convince the mages to help?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  She considers this for a moment before finally nodding. “Yes,” she replies, though I can see that her confidence is more feigned than real. “I have to. What other option is there? The only alternative is failure... that, and the inevitable destruction of all we hold dear.”

  “You won’t fail,” I say seriously, looking directly into her big, brown eyes. “What are a few pompous mages compared to a demon slayer like yourself?”

  Her smile returns and for a moment, an amiable warmth settles between us, like a physical energy that reminds me of the sun. It banishes the darkness of our current situation, radiating around us as we ride, and suddenly I know what it is like to have a peer.

  I know what it is like to have a friend.

  For the next several hours we talk of small things, enjoying each other’s company as we make our way to Forest Hill. All of Dagger’s Point has emptied, the Nightingales marching beside us down the leafy forest road. Elias and Barus ride at the head of the column, each carrying a large white flag on our journey southward.

  Barus had insisted that even with his injuries he would be able to fight, but Elias had told him on multiple occasions that he would need his leadership in the coming conflict, not his sword.

  By the time we reach the outskirts of the town, the sun is already on its final descent through the eastern sky.

  Farmers and townsfolk look up in alarm as we pass their homesteads, clearly surprised at seeing the battle-ready Nightingales marching through their land. Luckily, nobody engages in fighting and no insults are thrown. They merely watch us warily from their fields as we pass by and then return to tending their crops.

  Elias commands us to halt on the main road as soon as the hill is in sight. He says that he does not want any militiamen or mages to think that this is some sort of attack. He sends a rider ahead to inform the governor of our arrival.

  Then we wait for a time in uncomfortable silence.

  Finally, perhaps an hour later, a delegation rides from the top of the hill down to our position. By the looks of it, it is mostly mages, but at the head of the group I see Governor Prior and Arch Magister Elva Tyrande, the former looking nervous and the latter looking displeased.

  They pull up in front of us, all of the mages holding their talismans at the ready.

  When Elva speaks, all eyes immediately go to her. “Subtle, Ranger Keen, bringing an army of rebels to our very doorstep. A simple admission of your treason would have sufficed.”

  “I am no traitor,” Elias replies evenly. “And neither is my apprentice, nor your ward. We are here to help you."

  “Ah, yes,” she says, turning her icy gaze on Zara. She practically shivers beneath the Arch Magister’s stare. “My ward. Come back to betray me one final time before we destroy you?”

  “Elva, please,” Zara begs, her posture wilting somewhat under the hostile looks of her former colleagues. “Listen to him. We are not traitors. The Nightingales have agreed to help us in our fight against the demons.”

  Several of the mages scoff at her words. Elva continues to stare her down with cold fury.

  “She’s telling the truth,” I interject, leveling a glare at each of the scornful mages.

  “There are no demons, child,” Elva states coldly, ignoring my words. “The only threat here is the one that rides with you. The Nightingales threaten the peace and prosperity of Tarsynium, and all that it stands for.”

  I can practically feel the soldiers around me bristling at her comments, but General Barus raises a gauntleted hand, gesturing for them to stand down. “We stand opposed to King Aethelgar, it is true,” Barus says in his deep voice, “but today we carry an offer of truce, at least until the demon threat has been dealt with.”

  Governor Prior speaks up as he wipes his bald forehead with a handkerchief. “A truce? You believe that there are demons as well?”

  Barus nods solemnly. “There is an army of them hiding in the Emberwood, and they plan on marching on Forest Hill next. Many of my men have already died fighting them.”

  “The Nightingales captured us after I rescued Zara and Owyn from their false imprisonment,” Elias says in his typical gruff fashion. He looks pointedly at Elva as he says this. “We quickly found out that they had had run-ins with the demons as well.”

  The Governor turns to look at the Arch-magister. "You imprisoned them?" He asks, aghast.

  Elva does not reply.

  “They are led by a gorgon named Moloch,” Zara says, gaining a bit of her courage back as the rest of us support her claims. “He has used an ancient magic called ‘mindflaying’ to control the actions of the people he captures. That’s why those Nightingales attacked the inn that night.”

  Suddenly, the mages in the delegation do not look so certain. They eye one another and mutter quietly to themselves. Shaking her head, Elva appears unfazed. “If your claims are true, then why have we seen little evidence of demons on this side of the Arc? The word of a traitor is precious li
ttle for us to go by, even in such dire circumstances.”

  Seeing my opportunity, I speak up.

  “You want evidence? I’ll give you evidence.” I reach into a sack hanging next to my saddlebags and grab what I had hidden there. A foul smell like rotting meat wafts up and threatens to overwhelm me, but I proceed to pull out a hairy, decomposing head of a darkhound that I had taken from one of the spikes at Dagger’s Point. I throw it unceremoniously on the ground in front of the mage’s horses. “That is what we are up against!” I cry, wiping my hands on my pant leg.

  Several of the horses rear up in fright, and I hear more than a few of the mages spit curses at the sight of the demon’s head.

  Zara catches my eye and I see the corner of her mouth twitch up in a small smile. “My fellow mages," she says, "that is the head of a shadowling known as a darkhound. The gorgon Moloch has scores of these at his disposal, and they are headed for Forest Hill as we speak.”

  Governor Prior pales considerably and for a moment it looks like his is going to faint. Even Elva looks like she is at a loss for words.

  “Let us put our past differences behind us,” Elias says, raising his voice for all in the company to hear. “Let us unite against the oldest threat humanity has ever faced. As you can plainly see, these are not fairy tales that we are fighting. They are real.”

  Panicked, the governor nods vigorously. He averts his gaze from the rotting head in front of his horse and looks over at General Barus. “Nightingales, consider yourselves welcome at Forest Hill. You’ll receive no trouble from me or my people.”

  Zara and I grin at each other, and I can even see a hint of a smile on my master’s lips as well.

  “What?” Elva asks incredulously, turning her gaze on the sweaty governor. “You cannot seriously be considering working with these traitors.”