Ranger's Oath
Page 24
Elias had, of course, led many of the remaining Nightingales into the Emberwood to hunt down the demons who have fled. It is sure to be a long and arduous process, rooting them all out of the woods, but I’m sure that it is a challenge to which the ranger is well-suited.
Owyn had gone with his master, not wanting to be left out of the action. I, however, had decided to stay behind and help the townsfolk. The thought of witnessing more death makes me want to be sick.
“I’m fine, you bloody vultures!” A voice shouts off to my right. General Barus berates several of his Nightingale soldiers while leaning heavily on a crutch, favoring a wounded leg. “I’ve weathered much worse than this. Go, make yourselves useful. Try to salvage this damnable contraption!”
The soldiers cringe under their general’s harsh words, then turn to examine the molten metal gathered on the ground. The strange device that the R’Laar had used to decimate our meager walls had been destroyed, reduced to a pile of slag by the retreating gorgons. Apparently, they had not wanted us to have access to their superior technology, even if we do not yet have any idea how it works.
I sidestep the desiccated corpse of a darkhound and continue on my way, covering my mouth with my sleeve to block out the stench and the smoky air around me.
It is not long before I approach the blue-robed mages gathered in a small semi-circle near a gutted farmhouse.
Of the ten mages who had accompanied Elva and me from Tarsys, only four remain, the rest having fallen in the battle last night. Those left are among the most loyal to the Conclave, and two of them had outright refused to fight during the siege. It seems that the presence of living, breathing demons on their very doorstep was enough to change their minds.
They look up as I approach, stepping aside with pale expressions on their faces. Several of them even have tears in their eyes. As they part they give me a view of what they have been looking at. It looks like a human body, covered in gore. As I walk up to the corpse, however, I see that it is no corpse at all.
It is Arch-magister Tyrande.
Elva looks up at me from her back, eyes glazed and a river of dried blood running from the corner of her mouth. Her usually perfect hair is askew and her pristine robes are rent at the torso, revealing the broken shaft of an arrow protruding from her stomach. Judging by the sheer amount of blood pooled around her, it does not appear that she will survive.
For a moment we simply stare at one another, and I am surprised to realize that I feel nothing looking down at her pitiful form. This woman, once so powerful and intimidating to me, has been brought low, her lifeblood leaking away from a wound too terrible to be repaired.
Staring down at her, I can help but feel that she got what she deserved.
“Zara,” she wheezes, feebly raising a crusty, bloodstained hand to wave at me. “I am glad to see that you survived the night.”
“No thanks to you,” I reply acidly. The other mages gasp and give me angry looks. Even with a mortal wound, the Arch-magister should not be spoken to in such a way.
Elva’s mouth twitches up into a ghost of a smile. “Child... it was us who turned the tide of the battle. Without our intervention... the enemy would have won.”
I resist the urge to sneer at her. Even now, on the brink of death, she cannot bring herself to call the demons what they truly are. “If you had intervened in the first place, then so many would not have died last night. We could have beaten the demons before they even breached the first gate!”
“Perhaps,” she says softly, before descending into a fit of wet coughing. When she gains control of herself again, she continues. “But I do not desire to argue with you, initiate. There is something that you need to know.”
With considerable effort, she manages to lift her head up and look me in the eye. “The Conclave knows that the R’Laar have gotten through the Arc. We have known it all along.”
The revelation feels like a slap in the face.
“You... knew?”
She closes her eyes and nods. “That is why we came here. To get the situation under control.”
My shock is swiftly replaced with white hot anger. “You knew, and yet you decided to do nothing? We brought you evidence of their presence and you chose to exile us! What... how –”
“Unfortunately, I cannot explain everything,” she interrupts, still maintaining her air of command despite her grave situation. “This accursed arrow has seen to that. But you must know that I only had the best intentions in mind.”
“The best intentions?” I cannot keep the incredulity out of my voice.
“Yes,” she replies simply. “We knew that the Arc had been compromised, but we did not know to what extent. I was tasked with keeping everything suppressed so that a full-fledged panic did not engulf the kingdom. The Nightingales provided the perfect scapegoat, someone I could blame for the attacks. That’s why I was so adamant that it was them behind it all. I had no idea so many demons had actually gotten through...”
Elva winces suddenly and goes rigid, as if in great pain. One of the mages jumps to her side immediately, but whatever it is passes quickly. She wearily waves him away.
“Zara Dennell, I need you to deliver a message to the High Magus for me. Tell her what has happened here, of the threat that we are dealing with.” After a moment, she adds, “And tell her I am sorry that I failed.”
My first reaction is to laugh in her face, to tell her that she can find someone else to be her bloody messenger. But then, after a moment's consideration, I decide to nod my head, even though it pains me to do so. “I will deliver your message.”
“Good,” Elva rasps. “We do not fully understand why the Arc is failing, but if they know the extent of what we face, then perhaps the Conclave will divert more resources toward finding a solution.” With a frail gesture she beckons be forward, and I reluctantly comply. When I am crouching by her side, she begins to speak again.
“In the name of the Light, and as these four mages as my witnesses, I hereby recommend that you be raised to full mage within the Conclave. You’ve served the kingdom well, Zara Dennell. Your abilities will surely be needed in the days to come.”
Nothing that has transpired over the last few days can compare to the shock I feel at hearing those words. I stand there, sputtering like a dimwit, unable to form a coherent response. This woman, who had ordered my exile not three days ago, had just given me the greatest honor that any initiate has ever received. Has the entire world gone mad?
“Congratulations, Magus,” Elva says, and for a second she actually looks a little proud. “I always knew that there was something special about you, and it appears that I was right.”
“I... don’t know what to say,” I manage to get out. I cast my eyes about and see that the other mages look to be as puzzled as myself.
“Say nothing,” Elva replies, leaning her head back down against the ground. As I stare at her, I realize just how frail she looks lying there. “Inform the High Magus... protect the kingdom. You carry the hope of Tarsynium with you now, child. Do not fail in your quest as I did...”
It takes me a few moments to realize that she is dead. Her body, so pale compared to the blood staining her lower half, lays perfectly still in the morning light, her expression giving the appearance that she has finally been able to find some small measure of peace.
Equally surprising, I find that there are tears now streaking my own cheeks. Why am I crying? I think to myself. This woman betrayed me! And yet, despite my anger, I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness at her passing. The Arch-magister saw something in me, led me to this Light-cursed adventure, and raised me to become a full mage. Even with her flaws, she was a talented magic user. Her loss is truly a blow to the Conclave itself.
After a moment I stand up and regard the mages around me. They are weeping as well, and each of them wears a look of fear and apprehension that mirrors what I now feel in my heart. Sniffing and wiping my cheeks, I vow silently to myself that I will not fail in this quest.
The High Magus will know of what happened here, and the R’Laar will be kept from snuffing out the last embers of humanity left on Byhalya.
I will gladly give my life for such a noble cause.
“Come on,” I say to the mages, who look as if they badly need someone to lead them. “There is still much work to be done.” With that, I turn and begin searching for someone to help.
And I am surprised again to see that they are following me.
The End
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A thousand years before the start of Ranger’s Oath, the Legion of Light marched against an unstoppable army of demons. Standing firm against the tide of darkness, they gave everything to save the last remnants of humanity.
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About the Author
Blake Arthur Peel is a fantasy junkie, and has been since his youth. Growing up on a consistent diet of video games, cartoons, and fantasy novels, he has always created worlds and stories in his head. Now, he finally has the opportunity to give life to those worlds by publishing his own novels.
Nowadays, Blake lives in Tennessee with his wife and two boys, who are well on their ways to becoming nerds just like him.
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