Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1)

by C. J. R. Isely

  “I’m making you beautiful,” Rowan replied lazily.

  “How long do you think it’ll be until someone tries the tunnel again?” Will asked, turning to sit backwards on Visra, his elbows propped on the horse’s wide hips.

  Rowan threw his hands in the air, accidentally showering himself in hay. “Shoot,” he started picking the pieces off of his clothing. “I’ve no idea, but that’s what I don’t get. Why not attack now, when it’s just pure chaos here? It would take a minute or two to figure out if they were from the tunnel or another castle at this point because I barely know anyone here. You know, I didn’t even recognize Vancely the other day when he came in to go to sleep? He scared me about to death.”

  “Not wrong there,” Will had to squeeze his legs tightly around the horse as it shook, nearly unseating him. “Visra, eat your grain and just stand, won’t you?”

  “See, this is what I don’t get,” Rowan said, picking up another handful of hay. Colin quietly stood, moving further away in the stall. “They are all gung-ho, right? But after we found the tunnel. Not before that.”

  “Yes, good job,” Colin said, dryly.

  Rowan ignored him, pressing on. “Either they didn’t know the tunnel was there or we screwed up something they were waiting on.”

  Will sat up. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “That’s because I’m the brains of this operation,” Rowan said, smirking.

  “Stop stroking your ego and continue your line of cracked up reasoning,” Colin said, throwing a handful of straw at Rowan.

  “Hey! That stuff is about impossible to get off of you!” Rowan started plucking the straw off his clothing, his face moody.

  “My point exactly,” Colin said smugly.

  “Both of you knock it off,” Will said. “Rowan, what was the point?”

  Rowan shrugged. “I haven’t thought much more about it but, I don’t know. We find the tunnel and get a summons to Phersal for King Kolt’s crowning. By that point, we are late already, he has been crowned, but they kept it quiet. Does that seem very Kingly?”

  “Not really. I got the impression he was a power-hungry egotistical maniac,” Colin said, resting his head in his hands.

  “I thought the same. I’d been wondering lately if they did know that tunnel entrance was there, in the barn, but they’ve just been lying low for years. Lying low until they could complete a tunnel elsewhere. We have heard they are working on a tunnel in Phersal, to meet with the tunnels here, but that would take at least another year to continue, even working from both ends. That’s a lot of dirt to move. So, what if there was another tunnel they’d been working on, trying to keep hidden until they were ready to just attack from the inside.”

  “Thornten,” Will said, his heart striking hard against the inside of his ribs.

  “Exactly!” Rowan stood, starting to pace. “And who would be the most likely to find out about that tunnel after we accidentally found the one in here? Who would be crazy enough to logic this out and need to be killed because they could put a stop to it, or they would try to find the tunnel and put a stop to it?”

  “The Ranger,” Will and Colin spoke in unison.

  “Which is why Marl tried to get him killed! You wouldn’t want to distrust your own brother, but the Ranger did to an extent!” said Will. His body tensed and he felt Visra shift uncomfortably. “Sorry, boy,” he patted the red coat.

  “Marl tells the Ranger that they reopened a tunnel and are using that one to get to Thornten. They did reopen it, but just from the entrance to right outside the walls, where Marl is waiting to kill the Ranger,” Colin continued, eyes bright with excitement. “And then?”

  “Then the Ranger knows and he’s got to find this tunnel because, if he doesn’t, the castle is at a threat from inside and outside,” Rowan finished, halting his pacing.

  “So, what, exactly, is happening with this tunnel?” Will whispered, waving his hand back to the tunnel behind them.

  “It’s a decoy for now,” Colin said, quietly. “It is too hard to launch an attack from the ground up, there’s no stairs or anything. They would find an easier way in. They would want it to be as easy as possible.”

  “And they aren’t attacking to distract us because the tunnel isn’t complete,” Will said. Visra shifted again. “Hold on, boy, I’ll get off,” he slid to the side of the horse. “They aren’t distracting us because they are too busy trying to get the tunnel complete.”

  The three stared at one another, wide-eyed. “So where is the new entrance?” Colin hissed.

  None of them spoke, each lost in his own thoughts. “I guess that’d be a question for the Ranger,” Rowan finally said, leaning back against the wall.

  “And good luck getting that answer,” Will said, patting Visra. The horse turned his head, shoving Will in the back, an expectant look on his face. “You do not need any more food, you get nasty when you have too much grain,” Visra pinned his ears again, returning his attention to his empty bucket.

  “How do you think that the Ranger got the first tunnel collapsed?” Will asked. “Actually; do you think he’s closed more than one?”

  “Hard to say,” Colin leaned against the wall, face screwed up in concentration. “The tunnels have to be constructed in such a way that they are strong enough for the people below to move through freely, without making them collapse. How do you destroy something like that without compromising the castle above?”

  “Water?” Rowan suggested, starting to shred the hay in his hands.

  “No easy access,” Will shook his head. “It has to be a design flaw of some sort.”

  “Or,” Colin sat up, “Fire?”

  “That would be another risk to the castle,” Will waved his hand dismissively.

  “He carried down a lot of rocks in his pockets and filled the tunnel then,” Rowan said, dropping his handful of hay and reaching for more. “That’s the only logical explanation.”

  Colin raised his eyebrows, staring at Rowan. “Sometimes you’re smart. Other times I am amazed you remember how to breathe without someone instructing you.”

  Rowan gave Colin a rude hand gesture, causing Colin to throw more straw in his direction. Will, distracted, ran his hands over Visra’s side. What was happening with the tunnels? Robin’s information had been that Thornten planned to attack from the tunnels as they ambushed the wall. It meant that the tunnel had to be near completion, or already built. But where were they entering the castle? How had the Ranger closed the other tunnel before?

  “Will? Hello?” he started as Rowan shook his shoulder.

  “Sorry! Just thinking about all this.”

  “Clearly,” Rowan cocked an eyebrow. “Ready to go inside?”

  Will nodded, unlatched the stall, and led his two friends into the barn alleyway.

  ***

  The three of them barely had a chance to talk over the following days. Treck, Airagon, and Frell had started training with them more and, consequently, spending more of their free time together. Will didn’t mind, as Frell, once he relaxed around them, was entertaining, Airagon was always challenging them to try harder and Treck, like Rowan, could lighten the tension brought on by extra training and exhaustion.

  “What if we climb up the west tower after lunch? We could hide out up there and sleep the day away,” Rowan said, his face breaking into a longing smile.

  Will shook his head, grinning, and turned Visra to walk through the trodden snow. They had been tasked with patrolling the outer wall of the castle, the closest patrol option available and the safest. “Pretty sure that tower is off-limits to squires.”

  “It is,” Colin confirmed. “The story goes that squires used to go up there and drink to hide from knights and one of them fell off.”

  “That’s lovely,” said Treck. “Imagine being in the courtyard when it’s sunny with a chance of squires.”

  “Treck!” Frell said, clearly shocked. “That’s not funny.”

  Rowan, barely restraining his smile,
attempted a somber nod. “It was a very serious time when squires rained.”

  Frell threw his hands in the air as the rest of them burst into laughter. “You are all ridiculous.”

  “Oh, lighten up, Frelly, my lad,” Rowan said, trying to imitate Kenta’s deep booming voice. “You should be learning to be a squire again from the lads here in Alamore.”

  “I don’t think he realized how crazy you all were when he said that. I don’t think it was this insane when he was a squire here,” Frell’s lips twitched upwards.

  Rowan’s eyes glittered deviously. “I notice that Sir Ross trusted you to be in charge of the horn,” Will laughed as Frell defensively clutched the horn hanging from his saddle as if worried Rowan would grab it. “You should blow it. We can see how fast they actually could save us if we needed it.”

  Frell leveled him with a stern look. “Absolutely not, Rowan. That’s immature.”

  Rowan threw his hands into the air. “You seriously need to live a little!”

  “If he does that,” Will said, still grinning. “He won’t live long. Ross will murder him.”

  “Airagon, race you to the edge of the wall,” Treck said, bouncing excitedly in his saddle.

  Airagon grinned, gathering the reins to the lanky grey colt. “What’s on the line?”

  “Loser untacks the horses?” Treck supplied.

  “Deal!” Airagon agreed readily.

  “Your bets are boring,” Rowan complained but it was too late as the two had already sprang forward. Visra pranced sideways, eager to run with the others, but Will held him back.

  Frell laughed. “What would you have bet then?”

  “I don’t know,” Rowan said somewhat defensively. “But it’d be better than that.”

  Airagon, some distance ahead of them now, let out a whoop as Flint passed Treck’s slighter horse. “I seriously don’t know how he got that horse as trained as he did,” Colin commented. The two riders were turning around the edge of the wall, Airagon the obvious victor.

  “Airagon has Moron Cow Magic, it’s the only logical explanation,” Rowan said matter-of-factly.

  Will grinned. “Row, do you ever hear yourself,” he had turned in his saddle to address Rowan, who had fallen slightly behind him. Instead, he noticed Frell’s eyes widen.

  The Finnwick squire swore and Will spun forward again in time to see the lanky grey turn the corner of the castle, without Airagon. Treck followed a moment later. His horse seemed out of control, head thrown in the air and tail over its back.

  Colin was the first to react, bringing his reins over to smack Strider on the flank, pushing him into a gallop toward Treck. Visra struggled with Will, wanting to follow the red horse. “Would you knock it off!” he snapped, reining the horse in. Visra raised into a low rear, ears flat, letting out a furious breath of displeasure.

  As the large red horse drew close to the grey, Colin leaned to the side, snatching Treck’s reins and pulling, with all of his force, so the horse was jolted to a halt. Flint, noticing the calm and solid sorrel horse, pranced toward Colin, eyes wide and panicked.

  “What the blazes is going on?” Will heard Colin demand.

  “That’s our cue to catch up,” Rowan announced, pushing his horse past in a canter. Will and Frell followed, Will’s heart in his throat as he watched the edge of the wall, waiting to see Airagon stomp into sight.

  “They’re there!” Treck was gasping for breath, his voice hysterical. “They got Airagon off the horse! They got him!”

  “Who got him?” Frell said, voice harsh. Will drew his dagger, wishing they had thought to request swords.

  “Thornten or the tunnel people, I don’t know!” Treck covered his face, his breath a rasp as he tried to control it.

  “Frell, I’d blow the horn now,” said Rowan, drawing his dagger as well.

  Frell’s hand rested on the horn but he hesitated. “How many were there, Treck?”

  “No idea. A horseman ran into Airagon and knocked Flint down. It scared Resa and he bolted before I could do anything,” Treck looked between them. “We need to help him!”

  “Let’s go,” Frell’s hand moved from the horn to his dagger and he kicked his horse past them before they could protest.

  “Are you bloody insane?” Rowan yelled. “We need more than us!”

  Frell ignored him, nearing the edge of the castle. Colin swore loudly and released Treck’s reins, pushing Strider after Frell. “Colin! It’s not your responsibility if he gets himself killed!” Rowan called.

  “Well that gives us a lot of choices,” Will said grimly. He didn’t wait for Rowan to argue, loosening his grip on Visra’s reins. The horse needed no further encouragement to spring forward, his muscles launching them after the other two as Frell rounded the side of the castle wall. Visra was soon next to Strider, then passing him and turning, Will braced, dagger in hand, for attack.

  He only had time to see that Frell was locked in combat with a hooded rider, before Visra leapt to the side, nearly unseating Will, as a rider, hidden in the shadows of the castle wall, seemed to appear from nowhere and tried to grab at Will. Colin and Strider appeared, running hard, and Colin steered the broad-chested sorrel into the side of the enemy horse. It stumbled and fell, unprepared for the attack, crushing the rider’s leg. Will barely had time to straighten his seat and see that Colin and Strider were both fine before another shadow moved and he was forced to turn, avoiding the head of a spear as it was thrown at him. Rowan’s familiar snarl of fury rose up as he galloped into sight, bearing down on the second rider. Will grabbed the shaft of the spear, upright in the snow beside him, and rode at the man. The man had drawn a sword and brought it up to parry away Will’s attack.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” the man’s voice made Will’s hair stand on end. Marl’s eyes flashed as he ripped his hood away with his sword free hand. “Thought that first rider was you. Pity that others have to die too now,” he smiled at Will.

  “Where is Airagon?” Will snarled, dropping Visra’s reins and gripping his spear between two hands.

  “The Tunnel boy? On his way to Thornten. I believe in trial and punishment for him, by his own people,” Marl’s smile widened. “You should get to know some of their culture. They have the right ideas with traitors and bastards.”

  Rowan pulled his horse to a halt beside Will as Colin pushed Strider at Frell’s attacker. “Right now, that horn would be rather useful,” Rowan yelled. “The useless jerk,” he muttered, turning to glower at Marl.

  Marl laughed. “Thinking that you would get help in time?” he drew his reins tighter, his black horse moving nervously from foot to foot. “I think that’s a little bit foolish, even for squires.”

  A shout caught all their attention and Will turned to see the rider that had been fighting Frell fall and lay, unmoving, in a pool of spreading red blood that blossomed from his chest. The Ranger, his black horse covered in frothing white sweat, was swinging from his saddle, leaving the gasping mare still with a white-faced and dazed-looking Airagon.

  “Bastard!” Marl snarled. Before Will or Rowan could move, Marl had spun his horse and was bearing down on the Ranger. Will and Rowan yelled together but the Ranger seemed not to notice. He stood, sword tip touching the snow beside him, watching Marl approach. Colin and Frell were exchanging uncertain looks, Frell lifting the horn from his saddle.

  Will’s heart thundered in time to the muffled strike of Marl’s horses’ hooves to the snow. In the last moment, before Marl was riding over him, the Ranger spun, his sword free hand throwing the edge of his cloak in the air to blind the horse. Marl’s horse shied sideways and the Ranger, fast and silent, grabbed the left rein of the horse, yanking, hard. The horse, confused, spun in a tight turn and Marl had to fight to stay seated, pulling to gain control of the animal again. The Ranger had already released the reins though and was bringing his sword up. With a second quick step, he brought the hilt of his sword up and into the horse’s side. The horse screamed in surprise a
nd bolted, back toward the woods, Marl losing his grip on his sword as he tried to regain control.

  “Will, get over here and let me on that horse,” the Ranger ordered, his voice cool and calm. “He’s going to get that horse turned around soon and come back. There are more riders that way.”

  Will cantered to the Ranger’s side as the man wiped the blood off of his blade with the hem of his cloak, swinging on behind Will. “Ride,” he ordered. “To the gates. You, Frell,” he barked to the squire, still holding the horn in confusion. “Don’t ever try to be a hero again. That’s how people die. And don’t bother with the horn, that man is dead,” the Ranger kicked Visra, making the horse jump in surprise. “What part of ride don’t you understand? I’d love to know,” he snarled at Will.