Remove the Shroud: The King's Ranger Book 3

by AC Cobble

  Cinda glanced at Rew, a question in her eyes. Rew turned to see where Raif and Anne were rooting through the wagon.

  The empath told him, “Found his coin purse hidden beneath the bench. Decent amount of silver there. More than a farmer would carry. Plenty to buy food for a few days for a hundred men, if that’s what he was up to. Found a sword too. It’s seen use, Rew. Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

  “He’s not going to live to tell anyone my name,” said the ranger. He tightened his grip as the bandit tried to move.

  “There’s nothing else here,” said Raif, crawling out from underneath the wagon and reaching into the back. He lifted an empty sack and shook it. “We saw what they were doing with this at the farmhouse, and I don’t think there’s any mystery to that, at least. As we guessed, this is a straightforward run for provisions.”

  Rew turned back to the bandit and saw there was no suppressed surprise or hidden glee. The man was he appeared to be—a leg in the supply chain for those in the fortress—but what were those men up to if not banditry?

  “Looking to make a name for yourselves?” guessed Rew. “Hoping that in all of the chaos, no one takes time to stamp you out? What’d they promise you—gold, women, land? That’s not how it works. Only the boss’ll end up with the spoils. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a handful of silver at best. Certainly no more than you’re carrying in that coin purse right now. How about we make a deal? We let you keep that purse, and you tell us what we want to know. You run off and spend it, and we’ll forget you were a part of this.”

  The man shook his head slowly. “You’ve no idea, do you? My bad luck, eh, to get taken by five adventurers looking to be heroes. Well, you’ll all be dead in a day or two and me as well, no matter how this conversation ends.”

  Rew studied the man, and the man met his look stoically.

  “They’ll kill me if they learn I was captured,” added the man. “They’ll kill me if I were to run. King’s Sake, they’ll kill me no matter what I do. Chances are, they’ll take their time, or feed me to the new arrivals. I’ve seen the way it goes, and I’d rather end it myself than go through that. You folks don’t look like you’ve got it in you to make this messy, and I ain’t talking because of a death threat, so make it quick, will you?”

  Rew pursed his lips, looked around the group, and then nodded. The man understood his situation as well as they did. “Fair enough.”

  Rew’s hand dropped to his waist, and before anyone in their party could react, he leaned forward, whipped out his hunting knife, and swept it across the bandit’s neck. The man hardly reacted. He had no time. Blood fountained down his front. The light left his eyes, and he collapsed.

  7

  The next day, six distinct tongues of pale green flame danced across the hearth of the farmhouse. It was Cinda’s signal. Six men were coming Rew’s way. Outside, hidden behind the cart they’d taken from the dead bandit, Raif and Zaine would be seeing the same. Beside Rew, Anne’s jaw tightened. She didn’t bother to draw the knife at her belt, but she was crouched and ready to run out after Rew. He stood next to the door, watching the flame until all six fingers of spectral fire winked out.

  Rew waited a breath then heard a startled scream from outside of the farmhouse. He burst out the door, his longsword in hand. Five men looked at him in surprise. A sixth was kneeling in the midst of them, frantically trying to reach behind his back to the feathered arrow embedded there.

  “Nice day, isn’t it?” asked Rew.

  The five men gaped at him stupidly until another arrow thunked into one of their legs. The man staggered, screaming, and his companions scrambled to draw their weapons. Rew charged.

  One of the men was felled before he even drew the shortsword at his belt, Rew’s longsword plunging into the man’s chest with enough force to burst out of his back. A second man ripped a dagger from the sheath at his side, but Rew released the hilt of his longsword, stepped toward the second man, and grabbed his wrist. He chopped at the joint of the bandit’s elbow, forcing the man’s own dagger back at him and stabbing it into his open mouth.

  The bandit fell away, choking on his own steel, and Rew reached over to slide his longsword out of the body of his first victim, who had toppled down at his feet. The two remaining uninjured bandits faced Rew together, their faces panicked at the surprise attack, but they had time to recover and consider how to react.

  Until Raif came pelting toward their backs, his enchanted greatsword raised above his head, a battle cry on his lips. The two men spun, one leaping away, the other staring like he was facing an avalanche. Raif swung, his giant sword cleaving into the startled bandit before the man even thought to raise his own blade in defense.

  The second man who’d darted out of Raif’s way was equally as surprised when Rew caught him, grabbed a fistful of hair, and jerked his head back. Rew rammed his longsword beside the man’s spine. Spluttering weakly, the bandit died.

  Zaine’s first target flopped down face first, dead. Her second victim was limping away, the arrow sticking out from the back of his leg like a flag. Rew glanced at Raif, who was looking at the man he’d just chopped down. Seeing the boy was lost in shock for a moment, Rew hurried after the limping bandit, caught him quickly, and then killed him.

  Cinda and Zaine were approaching from their hiding spots, and Anne was standing near the farmhouse, her arms crossed over her chest. Raif put a boot on the man he’d slain and yanked his greatsword free.

  “Well done,” said Rew.

  He studied the faces of the children, assessing how they were holding up. For now, they were stunned and silent, but he knew the realization of what they’d done would catch up soon, and by then, it would be best if they were away, safely ensconced back in their hidden canyon.

  “Raif, help me drag these men into the farmhouse. Anne, can you and the lasses look around and see if we missed anything?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him and then nodded, evidently guessing he was trying to keep the girls busy so they didn’t have time to consider what had happened.

  Rew and Raif dragged the bodies into hiding, the women circled the building, and then Rew led them toward the canyon. He’d considered waiting to see if the bandits would send someone out to look when their supplies didn’t arrive on time, but he worried that they might send more than the party could handle. He would avoid a pitched battle as long as he could. So instead, they crouched down in their canyon hideaway, and Rew watched as Anne checked on everyone. They’d received no physical hurts, but killing a man was no easy thing.

  “If feels… strange,” said Raif, working a cloth over the blade of his greatsword, cleaning away the bandit’s blood.

  “It felt good to me,” murmured Zaine. She saw the others look at her and hastily added, “I’ve been around men like that much of my life—thieves, rapists, and killers. In the stories, sometimes, they are heroes, taking from the rich to feed their families. What I saw wasn’t like that. In the guild, they cared only for themselves, and it was the most vicious and bloodthirsty of them that rose to leadership. They’d stab the rest of us in the guild as easily as they would a mark. Whoever these men were working for, whatever they are doing, they are killers, and they deserve what they got.”

  “Aye, but do we deserve to be the ones who dispense that justice?” asked Raif. He tossed down the bloody rag he was holding and said, “I killed that man before he even had the chance to see me coming. That wasn’t combat, not a fight. It wasn’t a legal execution, either. It was a murder. Back in Falvar, it’d be the baron who decreed guilt, set the punishment, and made it legal. Now that’d be me, I suppose, but we’re not in Falvar, and I’ve no right to handle this sort of thing. It… it isn’t comfortable, is it? Those men broke the law and committed murder, but so did we.”

  “Rew is the King’s Ranger,” retorted Zaine. “If you want to worry over the legalities, he’s got the authority, sort of. We’re acting as his, ah, deputies.”

  Raif shrugged, as if weighing
her logic, but it was obvious he was still torn. He was a nobleman, a fighter, and he was trying to frame it in terms he was familiar with. Raif was trying to treat it as a solvable question of law, but what the boy was feeling was no question of law. Rew knew that. He’d felt the same, long ago. The boy had attacked a man from behind and killed him in cold blood. It was unfair. That was what was eating at the lad.

  “Not all is black and white," said Rew. “There was much about these men that was evil, but most of them would not have been completely evil. There was justice in what we did, for those victims we found on the highway and for those that surely lie in the future, but it’s always a question, isn’t it? Who has the authority to dispense that justice? Under the king’s law, I have the right, but should I? Should any of you? Good and fair questions, but not the ones that matter.”

  Raif frowned at him.

  “Regardless of the king’s law, the important question is whether we’ve the moral authority to do what we just did,” said Rew quietly. “It’s not just these thieves, you see, but about what we mean to do in Carff and beyond. Because I’ll tell you right now, there’s no law we can cite to cover what is going to happen. We’re not just breaking the law. My intention is to break the institutions behind the law. It’s not about what some nobleman scribbled down on a decree a hundred years ago. It is about what we are or are not willing to do in pursuit of what we think is right. What you’re struggling with, Raif, is whether you can sleep at night knowing you’re doing wrong for the greater good. How far will you go, and can you live with it afterward? Are you willing to do what is necessary for us to finish this?”

  The nobleman snorted and picked his rag back up, looking at the blood which soaked it through. “I’ve a glimmer of what you’re attempting, Ranger. How many, do you think, will die during the Investiture? Either by the hands of the princes and their minions or because of the disruption this chaotic competition causes?”

  “Many,” responded Rew. “Thousands already have. Could be hundreds of thousands by the time it’s all over. Maybe more. To be honest, I have no idea.”

  “I suppose that’s the answer, then,” mumbled Raif. “Hundreds of thousands? Doesn’t matter if I like this or not. Doesn’t matter how I sleep. The cost to us is irrelevant. We can’t allow the Investiture to happen. I don’t know what your plan is… but I hope it’s a good one.”

  Rew smirked at him. The power of youth to adapt to change. Raif’s moral code was far from malleable, but the fighter preferred things simple. That there was a justification was enough for him, no matter the questions it raised.

  “Raif is right. The blood we shed will stain our hands,” murmured Cinda. “There will be a dark cloud over our souls when we finish, but we have to, don’t we? These men killed innocents on the highway, and we all heard the wagon driver. He reveled in it, and it’s just a matter of time before they kill again. The princes will do far worse. We can twist words to convince ourselves it is all right, that we’re doing good, stopping men who would do bad, but Raif is correct. None of that really matters. Hundreds of thousands may die. We’ve got to try and stop that, but we’d be just like these bandits if we enjoyed it.”

  “Wise words,” acknowledged Rew. “That we feel guilt is proof of our humanity, but it is still something we must wrestle with. It’s something that, I have found, it helps to talk about.”

  Anne snorted at that, but he ignored her.

  Cinda looked down at her hands, slowly fiddling with her fingers. Without looking up to meet his gaze, she whispered, “I will do what is necessary. I do not know what that is yet, but I will do it. The darkness we bring on ourselves, the sacrifices we make, will be worth it. We can bear the burden for those we can save.”

  Rew grunted and did not respond. Sacrifices. She was closer to the truth than she knew.

  “Bad people doing bad things,” said Zaine. “It will always be that way, no matter what we do, but we can stop some of it, so we should. I didn’t much like putting an arrow into that man’s back, but I’d do it again tomorrow if it meant one less party of travelers has to die. The dead we found were someone’s parents, husbands, and wives. The families of those merchants will never even know what happened. That’s why I’d do it again, and why I’ll keep doing it until they stop us. I know we can’t get them all, but we can try. The old life, the old Zaine, is gone. This is who I am now, who we are, I think.”

  Rew offered her a tight smile.

  “When we fled for Falvar, even when we left there for Spinesend, we did so because of the crimes committed against our family,” said Cinda. “It’s bigger than that. I see that now. Our life, what it once was, is already dead. We can’t go back to that world, but maybe we can prevent that from happening to someone else. Maybe we can stop that from happening to a lot of families. That’s what we’re about, isn’t it, Ranger? You want to stop the Investiture, once and for all. What happened to us, to our parents, won’t have to happen again.”

  “I don’t know if we can succeed, but it’s worth trying,” murmured Rew.

  “I might’ve been the last one to see it,” said Raif, twisting his huge greatsword in his hands, watching the freshly scrubbed steel gleam in the light, “but I see it now as well. There is no normal for us, is there? There’s no return to Falvar to take the throne upon which our parents sat. I’m the baron, technically, but I’m not really, am I? I’ll never rule Falvar. Not while any of the princes or the king still live. Cinda is right, our old life is dead.”

  No one responded to him.

  “What we were has died. We just didn’t know it until today,” stated Raif, his voice rising, his eyes burning. “What we will be remains to be seen, but I think I can speak for all of us, Ranger, in that we’ve had our eyes opened, and we do not like what is there. I didn’t like how today felt, none of us did, but it was the right thing. I don’t know if that was the test the king was referring to, but it was a test, wasn’t it? A test of whether we’ve the mettle for this, and I think we do.”

  Anne was busy sorting their food, preparing a meal, and Rew saw her head bobbing, as if she was nodding to herself. The empath forged connections. She cared for humanity. She knew that sometimes before something could be properly healed, it had to be broken.

  Rew stood, stretched his back, and smiled at the three children. “We’ve a hard road ahead of us. Choosing to take this path is difficult. Staying on the path will be difficult as well, but I think you’re all correct. It’s the right thing to do. As long as killing doesn’t feel right, but we are compelled to do it, we’re headed the right direction.”

  “I’m glad that’s settled, then,” said Anne, chiming in with false brightness. “Let’s eat.”

  The mood of the group was subdued, and Rew ate quickly. When they were finished, full dark had fallen, and the forest around them was pitch black. He stood, brushing his hands off on his trousers. He told them, “I’m going out for a bit.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Zaine quickly, reaching for her bow.

  Rew shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  “It ought to be a joint effort, Ranger,” said Raif. “We proved ourselves earlier today, didn’t we?”

  “You did well,” acknowledged Rew, “and you’ll have a chance to prove yourselves again in the coming days. We’re in this together, but tonight is my time to go alone.”

  The children made as if to protest, but Anne held up a hand to stall them. “You did what you needed to do today. Let Rew do what he needs to do tonight.”

  The ranger put a hand on her shoulder appreciatively and said, “Set a watch while I’m gone, will you?”

  Then, he vanished into the night.

  He’d seen three watchmens’ outposts the night before, but he was more careful this time to scout the perimeter of the fortress, and he found two more. Each outpost was manned by one man who was alert but not so alert that Rew figured they’d found the dead bodies in the farmhouse yet. With the wagon traveling at least a day round trip and
then transferring the goods, it fit they might leave one day and return the next. Sometime the next morning, though, the bandits would grow suspicious about their missing men and provisions.

  That gave Rew one night to work.

  He started with the watcher farthest from their encampment in the canyon, hoping the outlaws took that as a sign of which direction he was coming from in case they discovered the results of his work before he finished. Like a shadow ghosting across the landscape, Rew moved silently and approached the first of his targets.

  The man was sitting on stump, hidden behind a screen of bushes. He was facing outward, so Rew snuck up behind him, in between the man and the sparse light from the fortress. The ranger was careful to keep himself out of that low light, so that there was no chance the watcher would spy his shadow. The watcher was alert, but Rew was the King’s Ranger.

  He stepped on quiet feet a pace behind the man then lashed out with his hunting knife, burying the steel through the bandit’s neck, piercing his throat and vocal chords, killing him silently. Rew removed his blade, wiped it clean, and then leaned the man against one of the sturdier bushes so that, from a distance, it would appear he’d fallen asleep. Rew moved to the next one.

  This man was standing, shifting his feet, evidently struggling to stay awake on the cold, quiet night. Rew flicked a throwing knife at the man’s dark form and smiled grimly as it thunked into his eye socket. The outlaw fell backward, landing with a soft thump on the lush grass.

  Two more men fell to Rew’s hunting knife, and each one was placed carefully on the off chance there were other wanderers in the night. Each of the watchers had a sword of some kind and a well-oiled crossbow. Rew took the crossbow from the last man he killed and aimed it at the fifth when he approached him. That man was sitting in the crook of a tree branch a few paces above the ground. Like the others, he was looking outward, and he had his crossbow in his lap.