Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1)

by C. J. R. Isely

  The smile dropped from the knight’s face as it hardened once more. “I tried to. Best I can promise is a temporary solution. He’ll be back,” Ross shot a look at Will and cleared his throat. “But we are getting dangerously close to matters that aren’t for the boy.”

  “I think he’s talking about us,” Rockwood whispered to Will who, despite the momentary feeling of disappointment, couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

  Henry stood, clapping a hand on Sir Don’s shoulder. “You can take Novin, then? The boy won’t be too exhausted for another long ride?”

  “No, he’s had time to recover and he’s a resilient lad,” Don said, standing. “I’ll have to tell him now, probably, so we can ride out by noon.”

  “Where are you and Novin going?” Will asked, sitting up straighter.

  “Shadow Dale. If we’ve lost Phersal and Bronswick, we will need some of our neutral neighbors to step up and help us. King Giltor is a reasonable man, if a little too eager, so Sir Richard, myself, Novin, and Haru will be making that ride.”

  Will thought of how cold the two-day ride to Phersal had been and shuddered. “How long is that in winter?”

  “Two weeks,” Don grumbled. “Thank you kindly for the reminder.”

  “You’ll survive. Two weeks is a breeze for a knight of Alamore!” Sir Rockwood said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  “And yet, I notice that you have opted for patrolling the border and road.”

  “Rowan is twelve!” Rockwood protested. “You wouldn’t have made Novin do that at twelve!”

  Henry raised his eyebrows at Will. “You best be more mature than those two, lad.”

  “He is,” Ross confirmed. “Though that’s not the highest of hurdles,” he fixed Will with a steely gaze that instantly made the squire uneasy. “You’ll be riding patrol as well, though not along the border. You, Rowan, Colin, and Airagon will take the main road. The three of you had to deal with enough in Phersal and I don’t want Airagon near the border on that animal until he’s gotten it exposed to more. This will mostly be a chance to ride out on those horses and work some of the edge off of them. From what I have heard, Visra needs to burn off some energy.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Will said, nodding. He couldn’t place the discomfort even at this simpler journey. It had to be because they had been locked in for so long, nothing else… not Marl…

  The knights remaining at the table had shifted the conversation to the tunnel entrance in the barn, where they had loaded down the hatch with the entire supply of hay and grain for the winter, but Will wasn’t listening. In his mind, he could see Marl at the window, as he had been the day that Will asked to become a squire. He could see him turning his falcon shaped dagger in his hand. He could see how Marl’s face had closed off, becoming dark and cold. He could almost hear the spite in the man’s voice. He had been offered a once in a lifetime chance to become a knight and his father hadn’t just been indifferent, he had been furious. How hadn’t he ever known something was wrong with that reaction? How hadn’t he questioned it before these weeks, locked in the castle and his own thoughts?

  “Will, would you mind waking Colin and Rowan?” he jumped as Ross addressed him, nodding before the request had fully sunk in.

  Once in the squires’ chamber, he saw Novin packing a bag at the foot of his bed, Haru trying to make his hair lay flat, and Airagon sitting up, yawning. “Rowan, time to get up. We got work to do today,” Will said, passing the foot of Rowan’s bed and tossing the covers off his feet.

  “I hate you, sometimes,” Rowan groaned, rolling over and bringing his feet back under the blanket.

  Will moved to Colin’s bed, grinning. “Colin, up you get.”

  Colin sat up with a yell that quickly woke the others, making Will startle backwards, nearly stumbling to the floor.

  “What the blazes is happening?!” Vancely squeaked, falling off of his bed.

  “Cripes, Colin! Take it easy!” Loper said, laughing sheepishly as he relaxed.

  Colin, face red with embarrassment, turned to Will. “Sorry, bad dream. Wasn’t trying to scare you.”

  “Well, now I’m awake!” Rowan complained, chucking his pillow at Colin. It missed, striking Will in the side of the head. Will and Colin both pounced, shoving Rowan from his bed, roaring protests, onto the floor.

  After a moment of trying to pin and sit on Rowan’s stomach, in which Will got the air kicked from his lungs, he fell back on the ground laughing and gasping for breath. “You’re a brute, Rowan.”

  “You are all insane,” said Haru, standing over Will. “You three better get up and say bye to Novin and I. You are all getting a few weeks of freedom from us.”

  “Weeks? Where are you going? The bathroom? What did you eat, so I know what to avoid?” Rowan asked innocently.

  Will tried and failed to hide his laughter in a fit of coughing while Haru rolled his eyes. “Alamore help us the day we rely on a Sir Rowan to keep the castle safe. We’re going to Shadow Dale with our knights to see King Giltor and assure he will be on our side.”

  “Lucky dogs!” Colin said, standing and brushing the dust from his off-white sleeping tunic. “I’ve always wanted to go to Shadow Dale.”

  “In the winter?” Novin asked, grinning. “Because, in that case, we can switch!”

  “I think I’ll pass, but thank you,” Colin said politely.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Airagon, you could have just asked them for a horse, you know? You didn’t have to settle on Moron Cow,” said Rowan, sitting comfortably back in his saddle.

  The four of them were outside the walls now, the land stretching out around them, sparkling under the most recent fresh blanket of white snow. Will smiled, his discomfort of the morning almost entirely gone in the relief of fresh air and miles of scenery.

  “I like my Moron Cow,” Airagon patted the grey’s arched neck and the animal’s skin shivered in surprise. “How else is a knight to ride to battle if not astride a fine bovine?”

  Rowan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe on a horse who isn’t scared of its own shadow?”

  “Airagon, don’t pay attention to Rowan,” Colin advised, pushing Strider into a long trot and drawing ahead. “He wouldn’t have named the horse that if it hadn’t outsmarted him at one point or another.”

  “I can’t wait for you to be a Count and myself a Lord so that I can send you rude messages by courier and it’s all official,” Rowan said, scowling at the back of Colin’s head.

  Will clucked to Visra and the bay launched forward with more enthusiasm than he’d been expecting, forcing him to grab a handful of mane to straighten himself. The air was freezing, biting into his exposed face, making his eyes hurt, but he had forgotten how it felt to ride without the limitations of the arena. The road only had a few inches of light powdery snow that flew up with each hoof fall.

  To the east, Will could see the shapes of the knights and soldiers patrolling the border. He could make out the black and white of Ross’s large paint stallion and the lanky movements of Rockwood’s horse. The knights had told them that they were not to join in the border patrols until they had their horses worked and ready again. It was a relief as when Will had mounted, the first thing Visra had done was attempt to swing round and bite his leg, then crow hopped halfway over the drawbridge. The only horse who seemed to be behaving was Colin’s Strider. The large red chestnut, just ahead of he and Visra, was alert and attentive to his rider’s slightest movement.

  Will loosened his reins, leaning his body forward. “Up, Vis.”

  The bay leapt forward, moving into a canter, passing Colin and the chestnut. This had to be what it was to fly! He could feel Visra asking for more slack, wanting to launch forward and leave the others behind. Part of him wanted to do so, to gallop down the road and back to the group. Thinking of the knights’ warnings and concerns, however, he slowed Visra down again, waiting for the three to catch up.

  He had reached the thick trees that edged the valley. The
frozen branches rattled in the breeze, sparkling like gemstones in the sunlight. The cold air stung Will’s nose as he inhaled, shivered, and ran a hand over Visra’s neck, looking down at the black mane in front of him. “You’re a pretty good horse, I guess.”

  Visra’s ears flitted back to catch his words before pricking upright again. Will followed the horse’s gaze and frowned in bewilderment. Rowan and Colin were still riding toward him on the narrowing path into the forest, but Airagon had turned the grey around and was trotting back up toward the castle.

  “Everything okay?” Will called as his friends came nearer.

  “It’s all good!” Colin reassured him. “Airagon’s worked Flint into a sweat and doesn’t want him to get a chill, so he’s heading back. We probably should as well.”

  “The horse is called Moron Cow,” Rowan reminded Colin, pulling his horse to a halt beside Will. “And a chill might have meant a better horse. I don’t get Airagon’s obsession with that beast.”

  Will shrugged. “I mean, he likes him so maybe he can train that horse to be decent,” he shivered again, sitting up straighter. “Well, if we need to head back, let’s do so.”

  “Without even stopping by to see your own father? That could break a man’s heart,” said a voice from behind Will.

  He didn’t have to turn to know who it was. He didn’t get the chance to swing round and face the man before something smashed, hard, into his back and knocked the air from his lungs. He doubled forward, slipping from the saddle into the snow, gasping. He could see boots moving forward, Rowan and Colin struggling to get their horses out of reach before both hit the ground beside him. A boot shoved Will’s side, rolling him onto his back. His blue eyes were met with the cold black eyes of Marl.

  “Well if we didn’t just manage to make the best of finds, boys,” Marl called to the men around them. Will could hear the laughter and self-congratulatory tones of Marl’s followers. The man crouched beside Will, one knee pressing, painfully, into Will’s shoulder. Will inhaled sharply in pain, struggling to pull away.

  Marl looked up, in the direction Airagon had gone. “We need to move. I have no doubt that these three will be missed as soon as that other one gets back without them.”

  Will shifted, managing to take advantage of Marl’s distraction long enough to bring both knees up, into his father’s back. The man swore and hit Will, hard, across the face. “Draviar, knock them out or I will kill them,” his eyes met Will’s once more and his face contorted halfway between a smile and a snarl. “Try that again, Will, and I’ll kill both these pests you brought with you. I can promise you, too, that their deaths would be agonizing.”

  Will froze, heart thundering in his ears. How had this happened when, moments ago, they had been riding without threat or danger? The border was being patrolled! The blood in his veins seemed to be shot through with ice. The knights were riding the border but Marl had been living in Alamore’s main town. He wasn’t the threat they were looking for.

  A hand appeared at the edge of his vision, handing Marl a cloth that he forced over Will’s mouth and nose. He tried to pull away but the foul smell forced itself into his lungs. The corners of the world were growing darker…darker…and he slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Get up.”

  Will gasped as he hit the ground, hard. His eyes opened but the world around him was unsteady and out of focus as he tried to pull himself up.

  A boot hit him in the side, knocking him back to the earth. He could hear laughter. His fingers scraped the hard earth and he squeezed his eyes shut. He had to focus. He had to figure out what was happening, where he was…what…

  He opened his eyes again, panic flooding his stomach as he looked around. Where were Rowan and Colin? He looked up and saw Marl’s gloating face. Hot anger rose inside and he tried to stand again. Marl snorted, his boot hitting Will in the chest this time.

  “Stop it!” he could hear Colin yelling and then the thud of a blow.

  “Touch them again and I will kill you,” Rowan’s snarl was followed by a grunt of pain.

  “Well, well, Marl, I must say, I’m impressed,” the voice was low and cold, the speaker out of his line of sight. Something about it was terribly familiar. He knew he had heard it before. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he raised his head again.

  Beside Marl stood a slighter, taller, man with the same jet-black hair and eyes. He smirked down at Will, his handsome features made cruel by the emotionless smile that curled his lips. “You know, you ought to get better at raising boys, Marl. The lack of faith is quite troubling,” King Tollien purred.

  Marl snorted. “He’s not my son.”

  Will’s body shook with pain, rage, and weakness as he forced himself to his feet. He hated how his body swayed, as though he stood on a pitching ship instead of the hard cobbles. Cobbles… he looked around, his mind working to catch up with his surroundings. They were surrounded by buildings and people. A town square, but he’d never seen this place, he was certain. Even in his hazy state, he knew he didn’t know any of his surroundings.

  “This here,” King Tollien said as though reading his mind, “is Thorwal. It’s Thornten’s main city, the largest one, and right outside our castle gates. What do you think of it?”

  Will didn’t reply, instead turning to Marl. Hate, betrayal, pain, all fought inside of his chest as he stared at his father. “You betrayed Alamore,” he snarled.

  Marl let out a mirthless laugh, stepping closer to Will and looking down at him. His cold dark eyes held nothing but contempt. “Betrayed implies that I ever had loyalty. The only thing I have ever felt for Alamore is hate. I’m not a traitor to my family, unlike your own kind, William,” with that he struck, the back of his gloved hand hitting Will hard across the face.

  Will staggered, his hand flying automatically to the pain searing through his cheek. Bright lights flashed in front of his eyes and he could hear Colin and Rowan both shouting.

  “Shut them up!” Marl snarled. “I don’t truly care how, just shut them up!”

  “Don’t you dare touch them!” Will barked.

  “Like father like son,” Tollien remarked, coolly. “At least he’s got a backbone.”

  “A backbone is merely another bone to break,” Marl snapped. He stepped forward, grabbing Will by the front of his tunic. “I will do as I please. You fight, you talk back, I take it out on all of you.”

  “Then I won’t fight,” Will said, his voice pleading. “I won’t. Just let them go and I will not fight or say anything.”

  Marl raised an eyebrow. “Squire,” he said, turning toward the men holding Rowan and Colin, “put them in the stocks. We can let the villagers have at them,” He looked back down at Will, his teeth bared. “I am about to teach you a lesson about playing the hero, boy.”

  Marl shoved Will in the chest, hard, before he could react. He hit the cobbles, his palms splitting on the rough and frozen stones. The sun glinted off the blade of Marl’s sword as he drew it, the slither of metal on metal the only sound in the square. No one moved, they only watched in silent fascination as Marl lifted the sword in his hand, seeming to weigh it.

  “Have you ever been struck with the flat of a blade or a dull blade in practice, Will? Or do they still have boys like yourself train with sticks?” he asked, sneering down.

  Will forced himself to swallow the fear rising in his throat. He would not answer, he was determined, but he struggled to keep himself emotionless. He thought of the Ranger, always cold and collected, of Ross, hard as steel, and felt his back straighten. If he was going to face Marl, it would be like he’d seen the knights face death over and over. He glowered at the man he had known as his father. He had never hated someone as he did now.

  “Don’t you dare! I will kill you if you touch him!” Will turned and saw Colin writhing, trying to break loose of the young brown-haired man who restrained him. He raised himself up, kicking backwards, into the man’s shins. The man grunted and sta
ggered.

  “Maybe seeing you fall will teach your squire friends a little respect, William,” Marl taunted. Will barely had time to turn to face Marl before the sword was swinging toward him. The flat of the blade struck the side of his arm with enough force to send him sprawling across the cobbles again. Warm blood was rising where his left side had taken the blow, the fabric of his tunic turning dark. It was as he tried to rise again that the pain struck. His surroundings vanished, replaced with red and black and agony. His fingers gripped his arm, his head spinning. Somewhere in the distance, he was sure, he could hear Rowan and Colin yelling. He had to pull himself together and help them…

  The next blow struck his hunched over back as he tried to rise. This time there was no blood, only pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down hard on the scream that wanted to break loose. It had to stop, something had to make the agony stop…