Remove the Shroud: The King's Ranger Book 3

by AC Cobble

  “You might, someday. You fancied Bressan’s son, didn’t you? I’m not completely blind.”

  She gripped his arm tighter as if to chide him. “I was… curious about Bressan’s son. It’s a nice dream. It’s good to have dreams. Good for Zaine, good for my brother, but I no longer dream. Not like I once did. Our stay at the inn taught me that. I no longer feel the tingle of excitement that I once did. When I sleep, which is becoming rare enough, my dreams are troubled. They have been since Spinesend. I do not think that will change, Ranger. A door has been opened. Whatever happens in our future, I don’t think I’ll sleep peacefully again.”

  “In sleep, you are closer to death.”

  “Yes. I can feel that. I can feel something, at least. The appetites I used to have, for rest, a laugh, for pretty boys, they are fading. I hardly recall what that used to feel like. At Bressan’s… I tried to make myself feel what I once did, but I could not. Something has replaced the curiosity I had—and the dreams—but I don’t know what it is. I know there is power there, power we need, but it feels like I’m walking through a room in complete darkness. I don’t know which way to go, where the hazards are that I may stumble over. Stumbling isn’t the right word, though. If I stumble in a dark room, I’ll bang my knee. With this, a stumble means my death and likely the deaths of others.”

  “I said I will talk to him,” replied Rew with a sigh. “Whatever it takes, I will make him teach you what he knows. You’re right, it’s the only choice we have. Trust him with as little as you can, though. The less anyone knows about you, the better. Cinda, I mean it. Do not show him your full power. You saw the king—Vyar, I mean—and you know what is at stake if the wrong people learn your potential. Tell no one what we’ve discussed and what you’ve begun to guess at.”

  “Even our friends?”

  Rew nodded curtly. “In some ways, especially our friends.”

  “Time and time again, Ranger, we find ourselves in trouble because of secrecy. Do you think that maybe we should be open with each other? My brother, Zaine, Anne, they want to help. If you tell us what your plans are—tell me what it is you expect me to do—then we can help.”

  “One day, but not today. Cinda, it’s for the best. You know what you need to know right now. The less everyone else knows about the future, the better.”

  “You are a frustrating man. Do you know that?”

  “I know that you’ve been spending too much time with Anne,” declared Rew crisply. They walked on a bit longer, and then he told her, “You have an inkling of what is ahead of us, the danger you will face. You know Carff and Prince Valchon, that is just the beginning. If your brother suspected as you do, do you think he’d allow you to keep going?”

  “He could not stop me.”

  “He could try.”

  They kept walking, eyes ahead. Cinda said, “You’re right. Raif is a fighter, but he fights to protect me and our family. If he thought… You are right. He would do everything he could to stop us.”

  “In time, he will understand,” said Rew, “but not yet.”

  For a day, they walked and they saw nothing. No Dark Kind, not even signs of the Dark Kind. Rew extended his senses, finding the wild land south of Stanton different from his wilderness home but close enough he could get the feel of the place. In the wilderness, he could detect the disturbances the Dark Kind caused from far away, but here, he felt nothing except for a lingering unease. They were near but not close.

  Borace loudly declared that the battle they’d stumbled across was several leagues off the road and that the narjags wouldn’t come to the highway. Rew saw nothing that disputed the man’s claims, though none of the Baron Appleby’s messengers had gotten through, so at least some of the Dark Kind must be trekking across the highway. He thought Borace’s idea had some merit, though. The valaan could be holding their minions back until they could muster enough of the foul creatures to assault Stanton. It made strategic sense, to gather strength as long as they could without giving away their presence. It was possible the valaan did not know the humans were aware of what was happening. There’d been few outright engagements, and if Rew was commanding a force, he would not want to make his presence too obvious by clustering around the road.

  He’d be monitoring the highway, though, if he were a valaan, but as a day passed and they saw nothing, Rew began to think they might make it to Carff without encountering a single narjag. He got comfortable, and it nearly cost them.

  The adventurers, with loose directions from Lord Fredrick, camped several hundred paces off the road and set a watch rotation that evening. They patrolled the immediate surroundings outside of the campsite. They went through the motions of vigilance, but before Rew could stop them, they’d started a campfire. Growling, the ranger stalked over and demanded they put it out. Borace argued, but when Rew did not back down before the big man’s bluster, the adventurers finally doused the fire.

  Rew didn’t trust Borace and his motley crew, but aside from the fire, he did not distrust them, either. They appeared to have perimeter security well in hand, and they were acting as professionally as any mercenary company he’d seen, which wasn’t truly professional, but it was somewhat close. The adventurers knew what was out there, and they wouldn’t sleep without adequate protection, but still, Rew elected to set his own watch. Quietly, he gave instructions to the others and told them that no matter what the mercenaries did, they’d be guarding their own backs.

  Raif asked him, “You expect trouble?”

  Rew’s lips twisted. “The Dark Kind are out there. The mercenaries will keep their eyes open, but that’s all we can count on. Their kind is as like to flee as to fight.”

  “Of course,” said Raif. He stood, stretching, his armor rustling. “I’ll take the first watch, then.”

  The young nobleman was strong, and the months on the road were giving him the constitution of a bull. He looked wide awake as he began to stroll around the campsite, peering into the darkness and then back over at the mercenaries where Borace was running a whetstone over his giant battle-axe. Raif was alert, but he didn’t have a ranger’s intuition.

  Rew was lying down, rubbing at the stubble on his head in the chill air, yawning and wondering if he’d been foolish to not allow a fire, when he heard a muffled snort. He froze, listening, and heard nothing else, which is what tipped him off. Had it been a mercenary adjusting his crotch before he fell asleep or a man moving on patrol, the sound wouldn’t have been cut off so abruptly.

  Springing to his feet, Rew yanked his longsword from the sheath and called, “To arms!”

  13

  With his shout, the narjags had no reason for caution, and they attacked. Dozens of them pelted out of the dark, slavering with hunger, ferocious wails cutting through the night like a dull knife. Rew lunged forward to meet them, stabbing a leaping narjag in the chest and flinging it aside, trying to give his companions time to rise, to prepare themselves. His warning, and the narjags loss of surprise, gave them the chance they needed.

  The mercenaries were a flurry of activity following his cry, and from the corner of his eye, Rew saw Borace lurching into the thick of the fight, his battle-axe sweeping in terrific blows, cleaving through narjags with ease. The big man’s face was split, his white teeth shining as he bellowed with the joy of battle. In the silver light of the night sky, the head of the man’s giant axe was black with ichorous blood, and his eyes flared with mad glee.

  A berserker. Great.

  Rew dispatched another narjag and was glad when Raif joined his side. The boy had been on watch, so he was still fully armored, and even a narjag wasn’t stupid enough to run right into the lad’s enchanted greatsword when he was ready for them.

  Raif’s arrival gave Rew a chance to look beyond the first rank of narjags. Several dozen were coming behind the ones he’d already felled. The creatures could move with stealth when they wanted to, but Rew had rarely seen so many working together without direction. When so many gathered, they were as likel
y to turn on their companions as they were to stalk up on you. Where had the things come from, and who was commanding them? Was it one of the shamans like they’d seen in the wilderness? Rew couldn’t see it, but it was dark, and he had other things to look at as a narjag came flying at him, foul teeth barred, a howl erupting from its throat.

  Rew smashed his sword into its side, hacking a gaping wound in the beast and sending it flying into the path of a narjag that was charging Raif.

  Out in front of the mercenaries, the hulking berserker Borace crashed through half a dozen of the narjags, scattering them as he whipped through, thrashing his huge battle-axe like it was a slender branch. A bloody swath of Dark Kind already lay in his wake. Raif let out a low whistle as the man swept his axe in a mighty blow, catching three narjags at once.

  “Did you see that!” exclaimed the boy.

  Rew grunted and switched to offense, darting after the berserker, calling over his shoulder for Raif to stay back and to protect the women. There were still dozens of narjags that Rew could see, and who knew how many more in the darkness. If Borace pushed out too far, the man would be surrounded and alone. Cursing, Rew paused to strike down two of the awful creatures then sprinted after Borace.

  Zaine released an arrow, the bolt whistling past Rew to take a rushing narjag in the chest. She called, “We’ll be fine, Ranger.”

  They very well could be, but Rew felt better with Raif standing beside them.

  Rew chased Borace, who was recklessly punching his way deeper into the ranks of narjags. The ranger paused to slay any of the Dark Kind his longsword could reach, but in the dark, the creatures had an advantage. They’d camped near enough to the road that the land was open, and the light of the moon shone down, but Borace was charging downhill, into the shadows where the narjags could see and he could not. King’s Sake. It was dark enough that dozens of the creatures had come within striking distance, and not a one of the watchers had seen them.

  Rew spared a glance back, seeing if help was on the way, but near the two campsites, he saw the mercenaries had clustered together and formed a protective circle, steel bristling from them like the spines of a hedgehog. They weren’t unskilled, and when the narjags approached, they dispatched them quickly, but they did not venture out. They weren’t coming to the aide of their leader.

  Lord Fredrick and Ambrose crouched in the center of the formation, either deciding that their strength was not needed or that they weren’t willing to expend it to save their companions.

  Rew muttered under his breath. While the bulk of the mercenaries were fighting confidently as a unit, the berserker Borace had plowed into the thick of the narjags alone. He was a force with his battle-axe, but against dozens of narjags at night, Rew could see where it was headed. Already, blood was streaming down the back of the man’s legs as he twisted and swung, exacting a steep price from any narjag that approached him.

  The creatures parted, and Rew shouted a warning. Borace didn’t see the valaan coming until it was on top of him, its long limbs extended, talons raking across Borace’s flesh with ease.

  The big man roared with rage and tried to fight back, but the valaan was frighteningly quick. It slithered out of range and then darted back, leaving bloody gashes everywhere it swung. Borace’s armor, more for show than protection, did nothing to stop the Dark Kind’s terrible claws. Blood flew as the mercenary spun, and his axe caught nothing but air, as if he was fighting against his own shadow.

  Suddenly, the nameless woman was there, her bronze scimitar slicing out of the night, almost taking the head off of the valaan. It dodged, and she pursued.

  Rew raced after them as the fight drifted farther from the comfort of the others. The valaan was retreating, chased by the woman, but there were still fifteen narjags snapping around Borace, and the berserker was bleeding from as many nasty cuts. The big fighter smashed one narjag in its bestial face with the hasp of his axe, spun, and chopped another clean in two, but others swarmed him from behind. One leapt onto his back, sinking teeth into his muscled shoulder. Borace stumbled.

  On the other side of the berserker and the narjags, the nameless woman cried out in surprise and came reeling backward. The valaan, caught off guard by her initial attack, had recovered and was now granting her its full attention.

  Rew swung hard, hacking into two narjags and hurling them off of Borace. He skewered another, grabbed a fourth around the neck with his hand, and threw it back and then kicked a fifth. He wasn’t fighting with enough finesse to deliver killing blows to all of them, but he didn’t have time for that. Borace had gone down, and narjags were jumping onto him like rabid dogs. Rew had to give the man a chance to stand back up if the berserker was ever going to stand again.

  A narjag lunged at Rew, thrusting forward with its spear. The ranger jerked his hunting knife from the sheath and turned the narjag’s strike, directing it into another creature that had its back to him, its mouth fastened to Borace’s thigh. The narjag squealed in surprise as its brethren’s spear skewered it. Rew rammed his knife straight down into the skull of the spear wielder. He twisted, shoving his knife to his left, dragging the dead narjag with it, using the pitiful creature as a shield. He cut down two more.

  The nameless woman cried in pain and staggered back, a gleaming curtain of blood painting half her face, her bronze scimitar whistling in a blur of speed in front of her, but it wasn’t enough. The woman was skilled, but facing a valaan was unlike anything she would have experienced.

  Shouting curses, Rew barreled into the pile still swarming around Borace, hacking and slashing his way through them on the way to the woman. The berserker was still moving, barely, but his battle-axe was on the turf. One of his swords was missing. He swung his other sword and a balled fist vainly, catching some of the narjags with his strikes, but missing twice as many as they clustered around him.

  “Rew!” cried Raif, suddenly pounding up beside him. “We’ve got this.”

  An arrow thumped into a narjag’s shoulder, and Raif kicked it away before leveling a powerful blow into a narjag on Borace’s back, sending the creature spinning into the dark, a trail of dark blood stretching behind it.

  “Go!” said Anne.

  The empath and Cinda had arrived and were grappling with a narjag that had been a breath away from hacking down on the back of Borace’s neck with a rusty hatchet. Anne had one arm, Cinda the other. Rew was on the verge of shouting at them when Cinda released a pulse of green-white energy. It clouded the narjag’s eyes. Its body twitched uncontrollably, and Anne leapt away, fervently shaking her hands as it to clear them of something foul.

  “Don’t do that where someone could see you,” growled Rew to Cinda before breaking into a sprint, chasing the valaan, who was chasing the nameless woman. She was fighting with terrific effort, and Rew was shocked she’d survived as long as she had, but when one had not faced a valaan before, it was easy to be surprised by the creature’s ferocity, speed, and strength.

  When facing a man or one of Vaeldon’s natural beasts, it was easy to judge their attributes with a simple look. Bears were big and strong. Snakes were slender and fast. Valaan were different. They were tall and thin, black tinged with blue, like a nighttime sea. They were naked, always, eschewing the peculiarities of the narjags who liked to collect and wear apparel and weapons they scavenged from people. Valaan were above that. They had no clothing, no weapons, just their thin bodies, but that trim build hid incredible strength, and they were as quick as a whip.

  The woman, her bronze scimitar and armor flashing in the moonlight, had not expected the creature’s speed, and she’d been sent stumbling backward, blood flowing, spattering on the scales of her armor. She was lightning fast, but the valaan was faster.

  Rew forgot the woman as he charged the valaan from behind, swiping his longsword at it, knowing the creature would evade the blow. It was like trying to catch a forest squirrel with your bare hands. They might pause, and they might hold still, but when you reached for them, they were a
way before you could even blink. The valaan seemed to shift, and perhaps it did, using some power that was foreign to Vaeldon, as it was suddenly three paces away, now facing both Rew and the nameless woman.

  “Blessed Mother,” she growled, “that thing is fast.”

  “I know,” said Rew, standing still, his longsword held up in front of him.

  The valaan, its skin gleaming in the night but its eyes reflecting nothing, suddenly lunged toward Rew. It was what he’d been waiting on. It was hell trying to chase down a valaan, so the easiest way to fight them was to let them come to you.

  In a blaze of speed his eye had difficulty following, the valaan slashed one of its taloned hands at Rew’s head. He swung up, catching the valaan on the wrist with the edge of his longsword and severing its hand. The appendage spun toward him, and he ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp claws which still could have left a painful gash on his face.

  The valaan was stunned, but only briefly, and struck again with its remaining hand. This time, his longsword out of position, Rew retreated, recoiling back, trying to draw the valaan after him where he could respond to another of its strikes.

  The nameless woman leapt at its back, but the valaan ducked, and startled, she toppled over it. The Dark Kind, crouching beneath her, raked its talons on the inside of her thigh where her armor did not cover and spun away as the nameless woman collapsed to the ground.

  Rew was after it, hurtling over the fallen woman. He thrust at the valaan. It twisted away again, some preternatural sense alerting it to his blow, but it wasn’t quick enough, and his longsword pierced its back, a hand length of steel disappearing in the midnight black body.