At some point, you’re going to have to be you, not Kiata.
Irritation both at herself and the horse master gave Reia a burst of energy that drove her over many kilometers. The caydronan sack bounced along at her side, falling into a gentle rhythm with her footfalls.
If you can climb the Riden Mountains with a few caydronan sacks, you can handle a little running.
She winced. The Riden Flats would be a lot of running. Trouble would surely find the prince before she found him. On horseback, he could cross the plains in about a week. Even anotech enhancement and excellent conditioning couldn’t match that pace. She didn’t know how anotechs worked, but she was grateful that they allowed her to keep a brutal pace for hours. Finally, Reia stopped by a small stream and set up a temporary camp. She ate some korver jerky and washed it down with cool water. Foregoing a fire, she relied on her travel cloak to preserve her body heat and settled down to sleep. Despite the illusion of peace, Reia kept her banistick and shootav close. Soon, the natural night symphony lulled her to sleep.
Reia spent the night captive to her dream. It wasn’t the dream where she lay paralyzed in a cold, dark place or the one where she fought off korvers and bears. Nor was it the one where her sister was tied to a rough wooden pole and beaten. In this dream, Reia was a baby carried in her mother’s arms.
The infant Reia screamed and thrashed, trying to warn her mother not to walk down that long hallway or open the door to join her father. Her mother paused to soothe her, whispering comforting words she couldn’t understand. Everything felt real. Mother’s cool hand and soft voice fought the fear as she continued down the hallway, passing the same four candlesticks they always passed. Finally, they reached the terrible room.
Father spoke but Reia heard only the cadence of his words.
Something cold touched her head, pressing painfully.
Mother screamed.
Something bright and hot flashed by Reia’s face, burning her right cheek and chin.
Suddenly, she was falling.
Just as she hit the floor, she woke up.
Chilled, sweating, and grateful to be awake, Reia quickly packed her things and followed the prince’s trail. The horses left regular markers, making her job easier.
As she ran, Reia kept sane by reviewing plants. She mentally combined them to make teas and healing pastes, which would cure anything from fever to poison to cuts and deeper wounds. She could have wrestled with the dream, but she had pondered it from every conceivable angle and didn’t wish to dwell on it further. Nights controlled by the dreams were quite enough.
The second full day went much the same as the first, but this time, Reia concentrated on Master Ekris’s stories.
To regulate her breathing, she sang “The Ballad of Ferrakin Maz,” a song that took nearly three hours to complete.
Mid-afternoon, Reia came across a herd of danlas and stopped to have lunch with the three keepers. The boys chattered incessantly and insisted Reia judge their mock duels. After an hour, Reia thanked them for sharing their meal and took her leave. She’d needed the rest, but she had a prince on horseback to catch.
Thoughts of three young danla keepers—Raymi, Wehn, and Moorle—kept her company as she ran long after the moons rose. Reia loved running at night. One of the rare, fond memories of Master Kolknir’s training was the introduction to the world that came alive once the sun set. Korvers and coyotes might move lazily about in the daytime, but they hunted at night, sending up crisp, raw, and savagely beautiful howls. Even the harsh kill sounds blended with the music of hundreds of thousands of insects.
By the third day, the pace wore Reia down and the trail grew colder, but she forged onward. At this rate, she’d reach the Riden Mountains in about three weeks. Though the prince would have a large head start, Reia could catch him during the mountain crossing. She knew countless shortcuts and could track almost as well as Master Corida or Master Celdin. However, the time estimate was based upon the assumption that she could maintain the fast pace, but as the hours wore on, her pace slackened. As despair set in, she spotted a farmer’s purple fire.
Gemon Dravir had searched four different emergency stations only to find them poorly stocked. Reia stopped to help, wondering why the emergency stations had been left in such disrepair. She spent a day nursing Gemon, his wife, and their three children through a bout with cornada and earned the privilege of borrowing a horse named Donol. Cornada’s cure was simple to make. Reia had needed fresh ira petals, mesta shoots, ristal leaves, and a few other herbs, but she’d always enjoyed gathering herbs.
As she rode Donol across much of the Riden Flats, Reia thought about the Dravir family. Despite the isolation, they seemed happy. Their honest hard work appealed to her. Even as she scanned for dangers, she imagined what life would be like had she not been raised by the Rangers.
What if my parents survived the assassination? Would Kiata and I be so close? Would I be who I am?
Of the questions, Reia could only answer the last one. Every hardship that came with Ranger life had molded her. The Order had taught her that strong people had to do good. Some Rangers spent days debating definitions of good, but Reia believed good simply meant aiding others first.
As a healer apprentice, she trained to handle a banistick almost as intensely as Kiata and Todd. She’d beaten off more than a few korvers in defense of tretling herds, but she had never raised her weapon against a person outside of training sessions. Part of her didn’t know if she could, but she knew the matter would soon be decided one way or another.
By the end of the first day’s ride, Reia wasn’t thrilled about having Donol, but she could hardly blame the chestnut horse.
“You’re a good boy, but I don’t think my teeth or backside will ever be the same thanks to you,” Reia commented as she watered Donol at a spring.
Despite screaming leg muscles, Reia forced herself to get on Donol the next morning. A quick meal of dried ira petals and spring water cheered her as she prepared to continue her pursuit.
Chapter 10:
Trouble Follows
JIRA (MARCH) 27, 1538
Twenty-six days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey
Kireshana Path, City of Huz Mon
Thanks to Terosh’s reckless pace, the horses were spent by the time they reached Huz Mon. Since they arrived mid-morning, Terosh ordered his men to relax for a few hours once the horses were safely stabled. Everyone but Laocer obeyed. Terosh had hoped they would all go to a tavern, so he could leave without them. Unfortunately, Laocer stuck to his side like a rash.
Guess I’ll stick with the original plan.
They left Huz Mon in the afternoon. If they walked steadily, they would reach the foot of the mountains before the three moons had full reign over the night. Terosh eyed their goal. The Riden Mountains rose like giants hunkered down against a windstorm. From this distance, the mountains seemed as vast and endless as the Riden Flats had once seemed.
“Impressive, aren’t they?” Laocer asked.
“Definitely,” Terosh agreed.
As they reached the mountains, conflicting emotions ran rampant in Terosh. Exhilaration overpowered the other emotions but trepidation, awe, and even a slight sense of futility existed within him. He laid a hand on the nearest rock, officially signaling their arrival.
“We’ll start early in the morning. I’ll get the water tonight. Help the men set up camp.”
Laocer raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Terosh collected each man’s waterbag and walked the short distance to a small mountain stream. Feeling Laocer’s eyes on his back reinforced the need to break free. Quickly, Terosh poured tamitin powder—a horse sedative—into each waterbag, excluding his own. Too high a dose could easily kill a man, but a small dose would knock him out for a day or so.
Terosh took over the cooking so there wouldn’t be an accident. He didn’t know when the tamitin powder would kick in. Since his cooking skills were rudimentary, the men suffered through hea
ted pin peas and prazzle beans.
At least it’ll stick in their stomachs while they’re out, Terosh rationalized, trying not to feel guilty. Noticing Dillain’s eyes drooping, he ordered everyone to sleep.
“I’ll take the first watch,” said Terosh.
“Whoa, I’m real—” Dillain didn’t even finish his sentence before dropping over unconscious.
Jos Millard and Dennin Molik started to rise to help him but fell over before gaining their feet. The others dropped off soon thereafter.
“Not ... good,” Laocer managed, fighting the powder’s effects.
Terosh agreed but couldn’t turn back now. Picking up his pack, he started into the Riden Mountains determined to prove himself or die trying.
JIRA (MARCH) 28, 1538
Twenty-seven days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey
Kireshana Path, Near the Foot of the Riden Mountains
As Reia Antellio neared the Riden Mountains her desire to reach them increased. The majestic beauty of the sun shining off snow-covered peaks nearly made her forget the teeth-jarring pain of riding Donol. Reia feared she’d end up molded to the horse’s back and never move again. However, when she reached the foothills and saw trouble brewing, strength seeped back into her. Five forms advanced on a small party of Royal Guards. The soldiers’ stiff movements told Reia something was very wrong.
“Come on, boy. Let’s get there,” Reia urged Donol, charging forward.
The shadowy figures faced her as she approached.
Twenty meters from both groups, Reia pulled up sharply.
“Leave,” a broad-shouldered man ordered. “This is no concern of yours, Ranger.”
Reia hoped her voice would stay steady.
“These Royal Guards are on a mission—”
Harsh laughter cut her off.
“Well, we’ll just be on our way then since we’re clearly overmatched here,” mocked a woman. “You know nothing about us, girl.”
Would you leave if I asked nicely?
To her surprise, the farthest attacker began retreating. He spoke something too faintly for Reia to hear, and his movements held a fluid grace absent in the others’ crisp steps. The five shadowy forms melted into the mountains.
Why did they retreat?
Reia wasn’t complaining, but something about them unnerved her. Even fully rested, she doubted she could have fought them all.
“Who are you?” the lead soldier demanded. He tried to look dignified, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. He knelt on one knee, leaned heavily against a boulder, and pointed a kerlak pistol at her. His gun arm shook, and he looked ready to pass out.
“Where’s the prince?” Alarm made her voice disturbingly high.
Donol shifted and nickered, and Reia patted his neck reassuringly.
“Who are you?” repeated the leader.
“Reia Antellio, Ranger apprentice and guardian of the one you seem to have lost.” The words came out sharper than she’d meant, but she straightened her back with pride anyway.
The one I lost as well, she silently admitted.
A cautious expression crossed the soldier’s face, but he shook his head, struggled to his feet, and holstered his sidearm. His eyes glittered with anger.
“Prince Terosh left yesterday, after drugging his own men.”
The scene suddenly made sense. Railing at her bad luck, Reia flung herself off the horse.
“See that this horse is returned to Gemon Dravir of the Riden Flats.” As she spoke, Reia retrieved her caydronan sack from Donol’s back, slung the bag around her neck, and secured it to her belt so she could run.
“Wait! Where are you going?” asked a young guard.
“After him,” Reia responded. Rummaging through her caydronan sack, she came up with a handful of amtea leaves and four wuzle roots. She placed these in a pile on the ground. “Throw these in boiling water for about ten minutes. Wait for it to cool and drink the tea. It should take care of whatever he gave you.” With that, she patted Donol’s neck, made sure her banistick and shootav were secure, and took off up the nearest cliff face. She couldn’t spend time enlightening Prince Terosh’s guards. The fool was probably neck-deep in trouble by now.
Of all the selfish, idiotic things to do!
Chapter 11:
Unexpected Help
JIRA (MARCH) 29, 1538
Twenty-eight days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey
Prince Terosh’s Campsite, Eastern Edge of the Riden Mountains
An anotech warning flooded Prince Terosh Minstel with adrenaline, dashing hopes for a peaceful day. Kicking off his blanket, he drew his kerlak pistol and leapt to his feet. An instant later, three blue energy beams punched holes though the center of his abandoned blanket.
Stun beams.
The thought reassured Terosh, but he tossed the pistol to his left hand and drew his kerlinblade as well. Wielding two weapons could be tricky, but he wanted the offensive edge of the pistol and the defensive edge of the kerlinblade. The blade cast a white glow on the immediate area. His eyes probed the early morning shadows, adjusting to the kerlinblade’s added light.
Two energy beams came at him, and Terosh dodged. Though impossible to see, he sensed two darts flying toward his back. He ducked, and the darts shattered against the mountainside. Spinning, he sent three energy beams at the new threat.
“Stay your weapon,” called a man from his left. “We seek an audience.”
“Odd place to hold court,” Terosh said. A quick scan showed him four attackers arrayed in a semi-circle around him and a fifth watching from the side. Retreating a step, he felt the mountain against his back.
This is bad.
He could pin two attackers with pistol shots and maybe fight off a third with the blade, but his chances of successfully challenging four—or five—attackers were very slim.
“We wish you—” began the left attacker.
Shouting, Terosh lunged at the speaker and fired his pistol. Stun beams meant the attackers wanted to capture him, but he refused to become a hostage.
The beam grazed the man’s right shoulder. The attacker grunted, stiffened, and collapsed.
Score one for Belcross’s special powerpacks. One down, four to go.
Terosh might have redirected his flight toward the second attacker had he not sensed stun beams from three directions. He’d been told the anotechs would protect him. Though grateful for the warnings, he didn’t like relying on things he couldn’t understand. Twisting in midair, he caught two beams with his flat energy blade and let the third pass underneath his body. His arm tingled as the blade’s surge protectors compensated for the energy influx.
More blue beams struck at him. Terosh dove left to avoid one but it grazed his right arm anyway. He broke the fall with his left arm, twisting to spread the force across his back. The impact knocked the kerlinblade out of his nerveless hand. The dead man switch shut the blade down before it landed next to him.
He rolled away from more shots until someone tackled him. Terosh’s numb arm left him at a disadvantage, but Master Colander’s hand-to-hand combat lessons took over. His first punch after standing slammed into the attacker’s ear. She yelped and hit him in the gut. Her voice startled him. Chivalrous instincts told him not to hit a woman. The hesitation cleared when she smashed him in the mouth. The blow knocked his bottom lip against his upper teeth, splitting the lip. Internal morals straightened, Terosh caught the woman’s right arm, jerked her off balance, and flung her into the cliff wall. The woman rammed the mountain headfirst and slumped to the ground.
Before Terosh could celebrate, someone else tackled him. He hit the ground hard with the other man on top. Reaching up, he locked arms with the attacker. The exertion woke up his numb arm. They teetered like that until Terosh pushed the man left, rolling them dangerously close to the cliff’s edge.
Below, the fluffy green treetops beckoned Terosh to jump and let them cushion his fall. He and his attacker rolled, and Terosh found himsel
f on the bottom again. A glancing blow off his right ear clouded his mind and sapped his strength. He shook his head, knowing he had to end the fight soon.
A dagger appeared in the man’s hand and swept toward his neck. Terosh tried to edge away from the cliff without letting go of the man’s hand. They struggled for an endless moment, Terosh pushing up and his attacker pressing down, the dagger caught between them.
A red beam blasted the ground by Terosh’s head, startling him. His attacker cursed, pushed off Terosh, and hurled the dagger at the beam’s source.
“Traitor!” shouted the attacker.
Two red beams caught the man full in the chest. His legs folded, and he tumbled backward off the mountain.
The fourth attacker, a young man who looked vaguely familiar, stared in disbelief at the fifth man then leapt over the cliff.
Terosh struggled to sit up, not understanding what had just happened. He tried to think where he might have met the young cliff diver before.
“So much for honor among assassins,” he commented.
“I have a different master than they do.” The last attacker leveled his kerlak pistol at Terosh’s face. He wore dark clothes like the others, but something told Terosh the man had two weapons besides the one pointed at him.
Kerlinblade. Banistick.
Only Royal Guards, Melian Maidens, and Rangers used the collapsible, staff-like weapons. Since the man was probably not a Royal Guard and obviously not female, that left only one choice.
I thought the Rangers were on our side!
“And what does your master want?” Terosh had trouble reconciling the image of a Ranger with the idea of a threat.
“I wish to capture you, but I don’t intend to give you to their masters. Turn around and kneel.” The man adjusted his kerlak pistol back to stun.
Reshner's Royal Ranger Page 6
