by Pedro Urvi
Lasgol smiled. “So am I.”
“Well then, enough heroics.”
He shrugged. “Edwina will get you better, and soon you’ll be fit again,” he assured Molsen.
“Well, it’s not going to be soon. These are nasty wounds and they’re infected,” Edwina said as she studied them. “But you’ll get over it.”
“Thanks.” Molsen turned to Lasgol. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”
“There’s nothing to repay me for. We’re Rangers. Take care.”
Molsen offered his hand in gratitude, and Lasgol took it.
He left the infirmary and saw Ona waiting for him under a tree. Camu must be with her.
“You ought to tell Dolbarar what happened,” the eldest Ranger said.
“Right. I’ll go and report this minute.”
Ona. With me. Camu, stay hidden, he told his partners.
The panther rose and followed Lasgol at once. I camouflage, came Camu’s message. Luckily, thanks to the coming of spring, the snow was barely visible in the Camp by now and Camu left no discernible trail as he walked. Egil would probably not be in his cabin as it was almost noon and he would be at his daily tasks, but he would be able to leave Ona and Camu there. As he had guessed, the cabin was empty. He went in and let his two friends get comfortable.
You two, behave.
I good, Camu replied at once.
Ona. Good. Lasgol told the panther who chirped lovingly.
And I?
You aren’t good and you know it. So behave well.
I good, Camu insisted.
Lasgol knew there was no point arguing with Camu, so he went out, leaving the cabin locked. He presumed Egil would be at the Library, so he went to look for him before going to see Dolbarar. He wanted to tell him everything that had happened first and see what he thought before he went to report to the leader of the Camp.
On his way to the Library, several Fourth-years recognized him. Immediately they made faces and began to point at him inquisitively. Lasgol ignored them and went into the Library. It was full of First- and Second-years, who were the ones with most difficulties in reading and writing. His friend was teaching a group of five boys. When he signaled, Egil raised his head to see what was making people whisper so much. His eyes opened wide, and he smiled. Lasgol gave a sign to indicate that he would wait outside.
Egil gave him a hearty hug the moment he came out of the door. “I’m so glad to see you!”
Lasgol smiled back. “Same here, pal.”
“Everything all right?” Egil asked, sounding worried. He looked him up and down in search of any wounds.
“Easy man, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“Camu? Ona? Are they all right?”
“They’re fine. I’ve left them in your cabin so they can rest. Camu’s sleeping more and more, and now he needs to rest, especially when he’s been using his power a lot to keep himself hidden.”
“Awesome. How did the mission go? Tell me everything! You’ve no idea how often I’ve found myself wondering how you were doing. The lack of news was eating away at my stomach.”
Several contenders came out of the Library and stopped to stare at them. One of them realized who they were, and the gossip and insults began. Lasgol heard ‘traitors’ clearly, as well as ‘they ought to be hanged’. He signaled to Egil, and they moved away from the building toward the Sacred Oak Wood. There they would be able to talk in peace. It was not much frequented because of the magic power it emanated. The contenders, and even the Rangers themselves, did not feel at all comfortable in places of power; and this was one of them.
It was a beautiful place, and at once Lasgol felt a tingle at the back of his neck which warned him that there was magic here. He was glad to be back there. He looked around and saw that they were alone.
“You’re going to be fascinated…” he began with a smile.
“Tell me. I can’t bear not knowing any longer.”
Lasgol told him everything that had happened on the mission, and emphasized what he had found out about the villages of the Wild Ones and in particular about the Frozen Specter.
“It’s all absolutely fascinating,” Egil said when Lasgol had finished. He was looking thoughtful.
“What’s worrying you?” asked Lasgol, who knew the look on his friend’s face very well.
“Several things are worrying me. On the one hand, the fact that the Wild Ones are resettling their ancient domains in the Frozen Territory. Thoran won’t allow it. It’s Norghanian territory and he’ll want to expel them at all costs. He’d tolerate a few scattered settlements with a minimum presence of Wild Ones, but not huge villages with hundreds or thousands of them. That means that the north of Norghana is under their control, and the King can’t allow it because it makes him look weak before his court. Which is not entirely unwelcome to us…”
Lasgol looked at him, not fully understanding, and Egil became aware of this. “I mean my brother and the Western League. It’s one more worry for Thoran. If he goes to the north to expel the Wild Ones from those territories, the West will have a breathing-space. It’ll have a chance, because Thoran won’t be able to keep both fronts open. On the other hand, I’m very worried about that creature of death you found, the Frozen Specter.”
“You don’t think it’s really a Specter, do you?”
“Of course not. I don’t believe in the spiritual world. You know that. The fact that something may appear inexplicable doesn’t make it that. It’s simply that we haven’t been able to find a rational explanation, for lack of factual information. Once you have all the facts, you’ll find the rational explanation that’ll clear up the alleged mystery. It’s the same in this case. I’m sure that what appears to be a Specter is some other type of being or creature we haven’t seen before.”
“That’s what I was thinking myself. Do you think it’s some being from the Frozen Continent?”
“Very probably. We need more information and a full study in order to understand the phenomenon and find the explanation which will clear up this mystery.”
“I don’t think that being, or creature, will allow us to study it, and it certainly isn’t going to give us any explanation. That’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of. If we get anywhere near it, it’ll steal our souls and we’ll die.”
“I don’t believe it steals souls either. I’m sure it’s very dangerous and it causes death somehow, probably in some magical way, but from there to stealing souls is quite a leap.”
“Well that’s what it looks like to everyone who’s seen it. It looked that way to me.”
“From what you’ve told me, it might very well have frozen its victim’s heart, and hence his death and his horrified expression at the realization that he was about to die, and all the more so if the death was a painful one. Or it could be that because it brings death in an arcane form, it generates such intense and terrible pain that it causes the faces of the victims to make it visible.”
“I’d already guessed you’d come up with some kind of reasonable explanation. I agree, but I can also understand why it’s called a Frozen Specter, and why people believe it steals the souls of its victims.”
“That’s the way many legends in Norghanian folklore begin.”
“With something strange and inexplicable…”
“Exactly. But that’s not what worries me the most about this being, or creature. It’s the fact that the soldiers weren’t able to wound it. That really is worrying. Steel has no effect on it, and that makes it extremely dangerous.”
“And it can kill dozens of men, quickly.”
“Creating chaos and horror. Yes, that does make it dangerous and troubling. We can deduce that it can only be defeated by means of Magic. And that’s a massive problem.”
“Is it? The King has Ice Magi who’ll be able to defeat it.”
“Not necessarily. You’re over-hasty in your conclusion. The fact that they have magic doesn’t mean they can defeat it. To fight one kind of m
agic, you need another kind that can counter it, and not all types can. It’s the law of balance and opposite poles, which also applies to magic.”
“You don’t think the Ice Magi can defeat it?”
“I have my doubts. If that being is from the Frozen Continent, and as it seems, part of its being is frozen, then we can deduce that a magic of the element of water, of ice – which is what our Ice Magi have specialized in – might not be effective. It’s not of the opposite pole. It doesn’t upset the balance. In fact, it’s possible it might hardly have any effect. It’s just a guess, but it could be so.”
“I’m not sure I follow you completely… are you saying that Ice Magic against Ice Magic isn’t going to work?”
“Water Magic against Water Magic, to be more specific. Yes, that’s it, but of course we’ll have to wait and see. That is, if the confrontation happens. I don’t think it will, not now.”
“Why’s that?”
“One of Thoran’s greatest advantages over my brother is precisely magic. Thoran has Ice Magi. My brother doesn’t. That’s a great advantage, and the King isn’t going to do without it in his offensive against the West.”
“How many Ice Magi does he have?”
“From what I’ve been able to find out, two experienced and two newly-trained. Four in all. But only one of them is a Great Mage. And my brother has none, which puts him at a clear disadvantage.” Egil’s expression reflected his worry.
“I’m sure you’ll find some way of neutralizing them,” Lasgol said, trying to sound encouraging.
“Unfortunately the only ones with Mage Hunters are the Rangers, and they’re in Thoran’s service.”
“Doesn’t your brother have good archers available?”
Egil shook his head. “Most of my brother’s forces are infantrymen and militia who’ve been recruited from the counties and duchies of the West. He doesn’t have many archers, and those he has only know how to use a short bow. I very much doubt whether he has more than a handful who are really good archers and use a compound bow. As for long bows, I can assure you that none of them have any. It’s a discipline which is only fully developed among the Rangers. The remaining Norghanian soldiers can only use the short bow, and that not too well.”
“They prefer the axe and long knife.”
“That’s right, with the odd exceptions who know how to wield a sword – mainly the nobles and their families. My brother and his allies, the dukes and counts of the Western League, can wield a sword, but not the rest of his men. It’s a weapon for nobles and expert soldiers.”
“I see the complication. Ice Magi are formidable opponents and can create devastation.”
“It’s one of the reasons why I recommended to my brother that he should stay behind the walls. It’s the only place for his troops that’s safe from the Magi. If the Magi come to within two hundred paces of the walls, my brother’s soldiers can hit them with short bows because the height of the wall gives them an extended range. But let’s leave that problem for now. The existence of a magic being which the Wild Ones can control might be an asset for the West…”
“If they use it against Thoran.”
“Exactly.”
“For the moment they’re using it to get rid of the Norghanian presence in the Frozen Territories.”
Egil smiled. “Nobody says they shouldn’t use it further south…”
“Ohhh…” Lasgol was beginning to see where his friend was going with this.
“Not everything’s been decided in this game yet. There are many factors to take into account which might tilt the balance. Some of them we know about, others are beginning to reveal themselves one by one, there are even some new ones, and of course there are those we still can’t predict.”
Lasgol winked. “We’ll have to unveil them one by one.”
“Exactly. Unveil them and then adapt ourselves to what we find out. What I don’t doubt is that it’s going to be extremely interesting.”
“And extremely dangerous.”
“Yeah… I’m afraid of that too.”
Suddenly Eyra appeared on her way into the oak wood. She did not realize they were on one side of it and began to search between the roots of one of the century-old oaks on the far side. She was carrying a wicker basket and was presumably searching for plants or fungi. Lasgol and Egil stopped their conversation and watched her. The Master Ranger of Nature was so absorbed in her search that she did not even notice that they were there.
“Master Ranger,” Egil greeted her respectfully.
Eyra spun around and put her hand to her chest. “Oh, what a surprise! You really startled me! There’s never anyone here.”
“Ma’am,” Lasgol greeted her.
“You’re back!”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Complicated mission?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Aren’t they all?” Lasgol replied as if he were a full-fledged veteran, even though he had only survived his first mission.
Eyra laughed aloud, which made her look like a good witch of the forest. Lasgol had always thought that she looked like a witch in a Norghanian children’s story. Or at least as he imagined witches to be, although he had never seen one to judge by. Egil had told him more than once that they existed and practiced Magic of Nature, which was very different from the Elemental Magic of the Norghanian Ice Magi.
She nodded and smiled. “Most of them are, it’s true.” She glanced aside at Egil. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a moment? I want to speak to Lasgol about a private matter.”
“Of course. I’ll wait outside,” Egil said, and left the oak wood. Lasgol saw the glance he gave him out of the corner of his eye.
Eyra waited until Egil was out of earshot. “Were you able to… deal with…?” she asked.
“Yes. I was lucky.”
“Did you find enough?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He untied the leather bag he carried fastened to his Ranger’s Belt and handed it to her.
Eyra opened it with unusual eagerness, looked inside and took out one of the plants. “Wonderful!”
“These are the right ones, aren’t they?”
“They are. You’ve done a great job and given a great service.”
“Will he recover?” he asked in an attempt to squeeze some information out of her.
“There are no guarantees in this healing business. You know that. I’ve taught you that myself. But with these plants the prognosis is more favorable.”
Lasgol sighed in relief. “I’m really glad.”
“But let’s not get our hopes too high. We’ll have to see.”
“I’m not going to know who they’re for, am I?”
“Who they’re for should be of no consequence to you. They might be for a friend of yours, for me, for a leader, for an eastern noble, for the King himself. Would it make any difference? Does one deserve these plants any more than another?”
“No, of course not,” Lasgol said defensively.
“Good answer. Unfortunately, the reality of this world we live in isn’t that. But it’s the right answer. I’m glad to see my teachings haven’t been in vain.”
“The teachings of the Master Ranger of Nature are invaluable. For me and for all my comrades.”
“I hope so. I make a great effort so that you understand and value them. I know you do, and that makes me very happy.”
Lasgol waved at the plants in her hand. “I hope everything goes well.”
“So do I. It’s important, and that’s all I’m going to tell you.”
Lasgol knew he could not ask anything more, so all he said was: “Always at the service of the Rangers.”
“And of the realm,” Eyra added.
“And of the realm, of course.”
“Right. I’ll leave you now. I have to deal with these.” She walked slowly away.
Egil came back into the wood. “I saw her leave. What happened?”
Lasgol told him.
“They must be for Dolbarar, there�
�s no doubt about it.”
“Will he get better?”
“Let’s hope so. I think he will. Eyra and Edwina are treating him, and he couldn’t be in better hands.”
“Unless it’s an incurable disease….”
“If it’s incurable or terminal, then there’s nothing anybody can do. Let’s hope that’s not the case. We needn’t go to extremes. It seems to be a weakening blood disease which is spreading throughout his body, but with what little information we have, we can’t conclude that he’s beyond salvation.”
Feeling rather low-spirited, they left the Oak Wood and went to see Dolbarar: Lasgol to inform him of what had happened, Egil to get on with the errands and tasks of the day which the leader of the Camp had entrusted him with. They passed the central part of the Camp, beside the well, and once again ran into hostile glances and spiteful whispers. Something inside Lasgol began to burn. He was tired of being insulted. He had put up with it for too long, and he was not going to do so any longer. They passed a group of Second-years, and when these recognized them they began the same chorus of sneers. The burning sensation rose up from Lasgol’s stomach to his throat.
“What d’you think you’re staring at and whispering about!” he said in the purest Viggo style.
The contenders looked away and went on without confronting him.
He remembered Sergeant Okbek’s words. He was not going to let anybody step on him. He was not going to let himself be affected by the hate and incomprehension of others. If they wanted confrontation, they would have it. He was tired of lowering his head and walking on. He was going to stand up to them.
“For a moment there I thought it was Viggo speaking,” Egil said with a smile.
“Good things rub off,” Lasgol replied, laughing.
“That’s a great truth.”
“With Ona beside me I didn’t dare stand up to them in case she thought it meant we were being threatened, and attacked. But now that I’m without her I’m not going to let them get the better of me. I’m a Specialist. They owe me respect, and I’m going to make them give it to me.”
“Well said.”
As they passed the Library, four Fourth-years in their brown cloaks began to sneer at them with comments about ‘traitors’, ‘sons of the enemy’, ‘they ought to be hanged’, and other such choice compliments.
