by AC Cobble
Cinda shook her head. “I don’t understand. You think Worgon has been drawn into this competition amongst the princes… But why? What role is he playing out here on the eastern fringe? The princes never come to the duchy, do they? How would Worgon be serving one of them by plotting against Duke Eeron?”
Rew shrugged. “That’s the frightening question.”
“If the Investiture works as you say, then why have my tutors not taught me about it? Why has my father not said anything?” demanded Cinda.
“Another frightening question which I have no answer to. There’s only one man who can answer that,” said Rew. “Fortunately, we are going to see him.”
Discomfited, Cinda walked faster, catching up to her brother and leaning close, presumably to discuss what she’d just been told.
“Do you think she really did not know?” asked Anne.
“It’s difficult to fathom that a nobleman would keep his children so ignorant,” answered Rew, “but I don’t think she’s lying.”
They walked on, and Anne said, “I know you, Rew. I know you better than anyone, and I know you are not worried because some prince is going to assassinate his two brothers. You’re not worried that a baron did not tell his daughter how bloody their legacy is or prepare her for the violence that was certain to come into her life. What is bothering you? Is it the risk of war or something else?”
“There may be war,” he said. “If knives in the dark and magic don’t work, the princes will be forced to rely on their soldiers.”
“That’s always the case,” pressed Anne. “There is more, isn’t there?”
“There is more,” he confirmed, “but I will not tell you. I cannot.”
Anne pursed her lips.
He turned to her, stopping. “Anne, I cannot tell you.”
“I don’t like secrets, Senior Ranger.”
He sighed and shook his head, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
Anne glared at him for a moment and then hurried ahead, catching up to the younglings and pointing out a short bush that sprouted a dozen yards off of their path. He imagined she was telling them of the medicinal properties of it, but he didn’t bother to try and overhear.
The Investiture happened every generation, and if the princes did not act quickly to clear the board of their competition—their brothers—then it would devolve into a blood bath. Tragic, yes, but such were the games of the nobility. Anne was right. The potential for widespread war was always the case with the Investiture, and he’d known that since he was even younger than the younglings. He knew what was coming. Baron Fedgley, Worgon, they would know it as well. Duke Eeron would know it, and he would have prepared. There was more to it, though, that none of them knew. There was a reason Rew had fled to the eastern territory and immersed himself in the wilderness beyond the control of the kingdom and it’s nobles. He wanted nothing to do with the princes and their bloody struggle, and he wanted even less to do with their father, the king.
Anne, Blythe, and the other rangers knew some of his past, but they did not know all. Rew couldn’t help feeling his time for running, for hiding, was over. The Investiture was drawing him in. Anne and Vurcell had guessed correctly. He could feel the pull of the maelstrom on his soul. It was a tug, an urgency to act. He knew what it was calling him to do, but worst of all, he knew the terrible secret of ascension to the throne. However strong that pull, he promised himself that he would run. He would always run from that awful truth. There was nothing else to do.
He grimaced and then increased his pace to catch the others. The Investitures were always bloody. They always cost a terrible price. This time, he felt it would be worse. He could sense it like a headsman’s axe raised above the collective heads of the kingdom. Countless people would die. They would die if he ran, but more might die if he didn’t.
The crackling fire cut through the burgeoning chill in the air. The two girls huddled close to it, hands held out, their cloaks wrapped tightly around their shoulders. Rew and Anne sat back from the fire, enjoying the cool autumn air, while Jon attempted to strike up a conversation on the other side of the camp with the young noble, Raif.
Finally, the boy grew tired of the ranger’s prodding and scooted over to sit beside Rew and Anne. “My sister told me what you said about the Investiture.”
Rew nodded but did not respond.
“You think it will be war, then?” asked Raif. “The Fedgleys have not been involved in a major conflict in generations, but we’ve trained for such. We have as many men as Worgon, but most of them are tasked with watching the barrows. If we’re to pull them from that duty…”
Rew shook his head. “There is little risk from the barrows that your father cannot manage.”
Raif raised an eyebrow.
“When is the last time Falvar was attacked by ghosts from that place?” questioned the ranger. “Certainly not in your lifetime and I doubt in your father’s.”
The young nobleman blinked.
“The shades that haunt those ruins and that forsaken steppe have no interest in the living,” assured Rew. “They’re tied to their barrows, and it takes little effort to keep them there. It’s only when a necromancer releases them that the wraiths become a problem for those who are not attempting to plunder their resting places.”
Raif rubbed his fingers over his lips. “You’re right. It’s been generations since the town itself was threatened. So, you think we could pull those men and march to Spinesend? We could support Duke Eeron there in the brewing conflict with Worgon. That, or perhaps we could assemble a flotilla and head down the river toward Yarrow. There are rapids, but it can be done. He’d never suspect it, I don’t think.” The boy frowned. “It depends on Duke Eeron, I suppose. He’s the liege of both my father and Worgon. If, once Worgon’s plot is exposed, the baron doesn’t relent…”
Rew shifted, then said, “Baron Worgon won’t relent. After Duke Eeron finds out what you overheard, what does Worgon have to lose? He’ll face the executioner whether he’s taken quickly or whether he’s captured on the field of battle. The only chance he has is to fight and to win. But it’s not a simple conflict of arms you should be most concerned with. It’s what happens in the shadows. If Worgon had a spellcaster to send after you, who else does he have in his employ? He won’t roll the dice on facing both Duke Eeron and your father in the field. Even if he’s gathered an army, that’s a battle he cannot win. He’ll have another plan, lad. The hidden blade is the one that should worry you.”
Raif grunted and glanced toward the hand-and-a-half sword he’d laid beside his pack. “Whatever he tries, we’ll be ready.”
“A sword is nice to have when you need it,” advised Rew, “but it’s best if you never have to use it.”
“Worgon will fight,” declared Raif. “You said he has no choice. He’ll fight, and we’ll be ready.”
“As ready as you can be,” said Rew. The ranger stood and stretched, glancing around the camp. They’d boiled and eaten a pot of rice, beans, and salted ham. They’d washed up and laid out their bedrolls. Rew told the party, “It’s the necessaries for me and then my bedroll. Jon, take the first watch, will you? After that, we’ll each take a turn, about an hour, as best you can figure. And I’ll tell you, in the middle of the night, awake by yourself in the heart of the wilderness, it’s going to seem like longer.”
The others murmured responses and volunteered for their shifts, leaving Rew with the last one.
“Til morning, then,” he told them.
The next few days passed in peaceful, but slow, progress. Cinda and Zaine were clearly not used to the constant physical activity of hiking through the trackless forest. Raif, who had spent hours each day at arms practice, was finding that traveling in armor with a giant sword strapped to his back was an entirely different proposition. Each evening, the younglings would flop down to the ground and complain of sore legs, chaffed body parts, and blisters. Each evening, Anne would make a quick circuit, healing the minor injuries and encou
raging them. Even Jon took to accepting the empath’s offers of comfort, but when she raised an eyebrow toward Rew, he simply shook his head.
Removing the discomfort of aching muscles was no great burden on Anne, but it was a burden. Rew wouldn’t put that on her, not when a good night’s sleep would fix the problem quick enough. He told himself it was that, and only that. The connection her empathy opened, the pull he felt on his soul… He wouldn’t expose her to that. He couldn’t let her feel what he did. It was good for the younglings, though, to get them started on the journey. By the end of it, he hoped they would gain stamina, and perhaps in the open grasslands north of Falvar they could make good time.
But on the fourth morning, as he watched them pick their way across a shallow stream, he despaired. In two weeks, the younglings were not going to turn into expert woodsmen. The nobles had simply spent too much time coddled behind the walls of the keeps in Falvar and Yarrow. When they did engage in physical activity, like Raif’s arms training, it was in a controlled environment, constantly monitored and tailored toward their every need. They’d never spent time outside of those sheltered confines, and it was terribly obvious.
Jon and Zaine had gone first and had skipped nimbly across the rocks in the stream. Cinda had started across hesitantly and then promptly slipped and splashed down onto her bottom, soaking her to the waist. Her brother, trapped behind her, teetering in his armor, suddenly squawked as a rock shifted under his foot, and he crashed into the cold water face first, splashing and flailing between bursts of enraged cursing.
“Do you think he can swim?” asked Anne from where she stood on the creek bank.
Rew shrugged. “He shouldn’t need to. That water isn’t any deeper than his knee.”
Watching the boy for another moment, Rew took a few steps forward, suddenly wondering if he would need to wade in and drag the oaf to the far bank, but finally, Raif got his feet under him and stood, hands held wide for balance.
“Are there no bridges in this place?” growled the boy.
“This is the wilderness,” reminded Rew. “There are some who venture into the outskirts two or three days from Eastwatch, but it’s rare anyone other than a ranger journeys this deep, so no, we haven’t built bridges, and this won’t be the only stream we need to cross. There are deeper, wider ones farther north. You’d best learn to walk across those rocks.”
Grumbling, Raif made his way to the edge of the water, stumbling once and falling to his knee before finally scrambling up the side of the shallow bank, digging his hands into the soil, and hauling himself up.
Rew walked easily across the stones in the stream then turned to offer Anne a hand. She waved him off and made her own way across, moving slowly but confidently. It was not her first time in the forest, and she’d crossed hundreds of streams looking for supplies for her inn and her healing.
Rubbing his hand over his prickly head and glancing at the soaking wet nobles, Rew suggested, “We’ll take a moment to let you all dry off. Walking any distance in wet boots is going to rub your feet raw. Jon, get us a fire started?”
The younger ranger nodded and quickly found a flat piece of ground where they could rest. He started a fire then helped the younglings string twine between the trees where they could hang their clothes to dry.
Anne began moving about, checking to see if Raif and Cinda had injured themselves when they plopped down into the water. Rew winked at her then told the rest of the party he’d go scout ahead while they rested. Zaine asked if she could come, and he shrugged.
The blonde moved with a lithe grace that would have served her well as a ranger, though it was clear she was a stranger to the forest. Not for the first time, Rew speculated about how she’d ended up with the nobles and whether what she’d said about being in the thieves’ guild was true. She was too young, but it was a dangerous thing to claim to a pack of thieves if it wasn’t true. Rew had been watching, waiting for her to remove her boots where he could see the soles of her feet. The guilds’ marked their members with small tattoos there, a danger if they were caught by the authorities but one they were willing to risk as it ensured complete loyalty. The mark of the guild signified membership in one society but ostracized its bearers from all others. Once marked, there was no going back. So far, Zaine had managed to change outside of Rew’s view, and with Anne there, he’d been careful about trying to surreptitiously catch the young girl mid-dress.
As they moved out from the camp, he told Zaine to follow his movements and nodded appreciatively when she fell into his footsteps. She weaved around the low-lying bushes and stepped over fallen branches and leaves as he did. She was slow and hesitant, but the potential was there. He turned to look ahead, letting his lips curl into a smile. One out of three of them who wasn’t a hopeless case. It was something.
Quietly, they moved another thousand paces from where the others had set up camp. She asked him, “Anything in particular we’re looking for?”
“No,” he said, though he wondered if it was true. Was he merely looking ahead, or was he searching for signs of narjags or other foul creatures? He told her, “Us rangers have a few typical routes we take on expedition when we’re patrolling various sections of the wilderness, but there are no truly established paths. Periodically, we venture as far as the Spine, but it’s only every few years that we’ll actually cross it. The Spine marks the edge of our mandate, and it’s quicker to go through Yarrow and Spinesend on the roads if we need to reach Falvar. So, while I’ve traveled this way several times, this wilderness is too vast to know every stream, ravine, and hillock. We’re scouting ahead to make sure the travel is as easy as I can make it.”
Zaine grinned. “The nobles aren’t used to a long day of hiking. I found the same when I was guiding them to Eastwatch.”
“And why were you guiding them to Eastwatch?” asked Rew.
He heard her hesitate, and then she kept walking behind him.
“The roads would have been watched—“ she started.
“Nothing to do with the thieves’ guild, then?” he questioned, slowing so that they walked beside each other.
She stumbled, suddenly less graceful than she was moments before. “Why do you say that?”
“Had you fallen in the creek like the others, would you have removed your boots to dry them by the fire?” he asked.
“I’m beginning to understand why the empath seems put out with you so often,” muttered the girl. She reached out and tugged on the branch of a tree they were passing, trying to pull it off but letting it go so it sprang back behind them.
Rew waited, letting his question settle while they walked side by side through the forest.
“Yes, I would have removed my boots,” said Zaine. “What do you know of the thieves’ guild? There are no thieves in the territory, as far as I know. Why do you think I would have anything to do with them?”
“I didn’t always live in the territory,” said Rew. “That, and I overheard what you told those thugs when you were trying to talk your way out of the kidnapping. Did Cinda not catch onto your meaning, or did she already know?”
Zaine, staring straight ahead, replied, “I am not a member of the thieves’ guild in Spinesend or elsewhere. I hoped telling those fools I was a member would convince them to release us. It didn’t work, as you saw.”
“It didn’t,” he agreed, “but you’ve a lot of knowledge about the thieves’ guild for one who is not a member. You’ve a curiously thorough knowledge of the law as well. Are you perhaps a judge or a barrister?”
She snorted.
“What’s your involvement with the thieves’ guild, lass?” he pressed her.
“It’s complicated,” she admitted.
“An apprentice, then,” he surmised.
“I’m not,” she said. “I have nothing to do with the guild, but if I did, would you turn me in when we arrive in Falvar?”
“I’ve no authority there, lass,” he reminded. “Besides, if the House of Fedgley wants to punish you for
being a thief, then Cinda and her brother already know. I am curious, though, how did you end up with these nobles?”
“A friend of a friend introduced us,” claimed Zaine.
Rew laughed.
Sheepishly, the girl shot him another look. “They found me, Senior Ranger. I won’t say I’ve always been on the right side of the law, but I’ve been as honest with them as I am with anyone. I know you think it suspect I brought them this way, but I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve never seen a map of these surroundings. A friend suggested we go this way, and I figured we’d find passage over the Spine with little difficulty.” She shrugged. “Cinda and Raif both thought it a fair idea, and I trusted they’d know the lands better than I. Evidently, they must have thought I knew… Well, none of us were as prepared as we should have been. It started because they paid me to slip them from the city, and I did. Then, we agreed we’d carry on together. You can ask them, and they’ll confirm the truth. After helping them escape, Yarrow is no longer safe for me, so I’ve just as much reason to travel to Falvar as they do.”
He studied her, and she turned from him, flushing. She wasn’t lying, exactly, but she wasn’t telling the entire story, either. Suddenly, he stopped walking.
“I-It is the truth, Senior Ranger,” stammered Zaine.
He held a finger to his lips, looked around, and said, “Something is out there. Let’s go back to the others.”
