The King of the West

by Pedro Urvi

  The landscapes of southern Norghana were much flatter and greener that those of the center and north, and Lasgol was grateful for the change in scenery. The green fields, barely covered with snow and in bloom, were something he had not had much opportunity to enjoy. Nor was he the only one, since Ona and Camu were having a wonderful time playing among the tall grass and flowers – Ona in particular. Every now and then she would stop to sniff at some new flower she had never seen before or an insect she did not know. For some reason insects caught her attention and she would study them intensely, without missing a thing. To Lasgol’s surprise it was not that she was fascinated with them or enjoyed their exotic beauty; instead she would leap and catch them with her claws, showing incredible agility and skill. She did not miss a single insect, however tiny. When she caught one, Camu would eat it and encourage her to catch more. Lasgol found their behavior deeply strange and interesting at the same time.

  The only one of his partners who behaved with some semblance of sanity was Trotter. He never complained or protested about anything and most of all, he did not do odd things. Lasgol, who was very grateful for this, whispered endearments to him and patted his neck gently. When they reached a clearing with a stream running through it, Lasgol decided to rest a while and let the pony drink and graze. Before he could say a word or send a mental message, Camu dived into the water in search of trout, river-crab, frogs or any other animal he could chase. Ona followed him in delight, which was strange as she was a great cat, and they are not known to be fond of water.

  Lasgol shook his head and let them play. What choice did he have? He dismounted and took the satchel of provisions and his two bows, the short one and the compound. He liked to have them at hand at every moment: a wary man lived to be old. He let Trotter loose so that he could freshen up and graze, and the poor animal, seeing the exhibition Ona and Camu were making of themselves in the river, moved off to drink further upstream.

  Trotter, good boy, Lasgol said in a mental message. The pony looked back at him and moved his head up and down as though nodding.

  The sun was high in a clear sky and the temperature was very pleasant, which they were all grateful for. Lasgol sat down on the rocks and tended to his weapons: first his bows, then his knife and axe. A good Ranger always had to keep his weapons in excellent condition. Danger could appear at any moment, and anyone who was not ready might end up in a grave, particularly in the current uncertain times in Norghana. When they were finally tired of playing, Ona and Camu came back to his side, soaking wet, and they lay down beside him to dry in the sun. Shortly after this they were both sleeping like logs.

  “I guess it’s my turn to keep watch,” Lasgol said with a resigned smile. Trotter was looking at him from a few paces away where he was quietly grazing. Thank goodness I’ve got you, he messaged, and the pony nodded again in agreement. Lasgol was unsure how much of what he transmitted Trotter was able to grasp, but he had the impression that it was more than he had thought.

  He took the opportunity to eat some salt meat from his provisions, and after a while the two sleepyheads woke up.

  Did you have a good rest? he asked them.

  Yes, rest, Camu said as he stood up on his four legs. Ona stretched and gave a lazy chirp.

  Good thing we’re in open country and we can see the enemy leagues off. Otherwise…

  No danger, Camu transmitted.

  Yeah, but there might have been.

  Not here.

  There could always be danger, and we always need to be on the alert, Lasgol said. He felt like a father lecturing his children, or rather like an older brother.

  Ona grunted and began to look alert.

  Lasgol smiled. Sure, now you’re listening.

  Camu began to dance.

  Why don’t you try to improve your skills instead of sleeping and dancing all day?

  Camu stopped dancing and blinked hard. I try, he transmitted, making it clear that he was offended.

  Lasgol had known that the comment was going to sting, but he liked to tease him once in a while. Fine. Let’s do a few useful things. I’m going to go over all the ingredients in my Ranger’s belt in case I’m getting low on any of them. Then I’ll prepare a couple of elemental arrows, just in case.

  I busy, Camu replied, sounding piqued.

  Lasgol held back a smile and set to work. Camu, three paces away from him, shut his eyes. He was trying something. Lasgol did not know what it might be, but knowing him he would be trying out something new. Ona, seeing that Lasgol was working and Camu concentrating, lay down between them and watched them attentively. When Lasgol had put all his ingredients in order he began to make a fire arrow. It was not his favorite, but it was the simplest to prepare, since he had no workshop at his disposal and was in open country.

  As he was making it, kneeling on a blanket, he glanced at Camu a couple of times. He was still, with his eyes shut, and since Lasgol could not perceive any magic coming from him and had seen no golden or silver flash, he guessed that he was not succeeding at whatever he was trying to do. Ona had stretched out beside Camu and was watching everything Lasgol was doing, since Camu seemed to have been turned to stone. Lasgol went on to make a second fire arrow. They were very effective, although he had to be very careful carrying them. Luckily, the quivers the Rangers carried were especially designed for that purpose, with separate lined compartments for the different types of arrows. Egil was fascinated by them, as well as by the special belt they wore. Lasgol found them well-planned and adapted for their purpose, but he was not as fascinated by them as his scholarly friend. For him they were useful, rather than anything else.

  He looked up to keep an eye on Camu, but could not see him. He had vanished, and so had Ona. Where had they gone?

  “I can’t afford to let my concentration slip for a single moment,” he muttered to himself. “I bet they’ve gone to play somewhere around here.” He could see Trotter, very relaxed beside the stream, but of Ona and Camu there was no trace. He sighed. It was like having to look after two mischievous children who ran away to play the moment he stopped paying attention. Suddenly he felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle. Was Camu using magic? If so, and if he himself had felt it, he could not be far away. He waited a moment, but they did not come back, and as he had to finish the arrow he decided to keep working without stopping to worry.

  Suddenly he became aware of a shadow and turned on his knees. Ona was back beside him, but there was no Camu.

  Ona. Good. Where’s Camu?

  The panther looked at him, then to his right, and chirped with something like a moan.

  Where Camu? he asked the panther. She repeated the gesture and the chirp.

  Lasgol looked at her, baffled. Camu, are you okay? he asked.

  There was no answer.

  If you’re hiding, it’s not funny. Make yourself visible.

  There was no answer, nor did Camu appear. Lasgol cursed under his breath and turned to finish his arrow so that he could start searching for the playful creature. He must be playing one of his tricks. One of these days he would have to teach him that they were not really funny at all. He rolled the two arrows in the blanket and was about to take them to the quiver when he saw the shadows change, and turned to see why Ona had decided to move.

  Camu appeared in the exact spot where he had been before Ona was staring at him, not entirely happily.

  Camu… what on earth are you doing?

  The creature stared at him with his bulgy eyes wide. New skill.

  What new skill? And why weren’t you answering me?

  Concentrating. Can’t.

  Ona growled unhappily beside him.

  Camu, behave. You frightened Ona, Lasgol scolded him, and turned to put his arrows in the quiver. He did this with extreme care, wondering how he could make Camu understand that his games would get them into trouble one day. He turned to tell him off.

  And he had a shock.

  Neither of them was there.

  “By all
the icebergs!” Lasgol shouted aloud. Where are you hiding? Come back at once! Enough with the games!

  There was a long silence, and he realized that this was simply impossible. They had been only two steps away a moment before. He looked around and saw only green fields dotted with flowers of different, intense colors. It was normal enough for Camu to have vanished – he loved to play hide-and-seek – but where had Ona gone?

  Then suddenly the two of them became visible, precisely where they had been before. Lasgol leapt backwards.

  Not go. Always here, Camu transmitted.

  Lasgol was so astonished that it took him a moment to grasp what had happened. You haven’t moved?

  No. Always here.

  So why didn’t I see you? Why didn’t I see Ona? You I can understand, but her?

  I tell you. New skill.

  Lasgol’s eyes widened. You camouflaged Ona?

  Yes. I camouflage Ona.

  That’s fantastic!

  Ona growled again unhappily.

  Ona not like.

  I can see that, but it’s great!

  I tell. She not understand.

  How did you do it?

  Not know sure.

  Do it again, please. I want to see it.

  I do, Camu transmitted, and shut his eyes. A moment later he and Ona vanished in front of Lasgol.

  Lasgol clapped his hands in delight at his little friend’s success. It’s amazing!

  Camu became visible, and with him Ona, who complained once again and this time moved away from her friend amid growls and moans.

  How does it work?

  Not know.

  Okay. Can you do it again with Ona at the same distance she is now?

  Try. Camu shut his eyes and vanished a moment later. Ona, on the other hand, stayed visible.

  It doesn’t seem to work at a distance.

  Camu became visible again. Ona. Come, he transmitted to the panther, but she protested and moved further away still.

  She doesn’t seem to want to. Try with me, Lasgol suggested.

  Camu repeated the skill, with Lasgol beside him in the same spot where Ona had been. Nothing happened.

  How odd. I wonder why.

  Not know. Ona yes, Lasgol no.

  Let’s try with some other things. This is an amazing discovery.

  Can’t.

  Why?

  Tired. No energy.

  Ah, you’ve overdone the experimenting. Don’t worry, sleep and get your energy back.

  Almost before the message was finished, Camu had lain down and was fast asleep. Lasgol waited patiently for him to wake up, but it took him a whole day and night. When he woke up they experimented until he had nearly exhausted his inner energy, but they got no further. For some unknown reason he could make Ona vanish, but not Lasgol. In addition, it only worked if Ona was practically glued to his side. Even so, this was a new skill they could use to make Ona pass unnoticed, as long as they could teach her not to get nervous at the magic and not to move from Camu’s side, both of which were very unlikely. Whatever the case, Lasgol was very happy about this new skill of Camu’s. He thought of naming it, but was unable to think of anything suitable. He decided to wait until he saw Egil again and allow him to do the honors. He would surely be delighted to.

  With his spirits cheered by the new discovery, Lasgol set off to the meeting point to begin the mission Gondabar had entrusted him with. Camu was so proud of his new skill that every time Ona was distracted he made her vanish, which she did not find in the least amusing. Afterwards he did his happy dance to celebrate, while she growled at him in annoyance. Lasgol laughed and could not avoid smiling from ear to ear. Even Trotter seemed happier, although this might have been because Camu was too occupied torturing poor Ona to mess with him.

  When they arrived at the village of Norwestal, Lasgol took a good look at it from a distance. It was the furthest settlement to the southeast. Beyond the village he could glimpse great forests. According to the map he was looking at, the border with Zangria was a day’s journey away. When he realized that he could almost see it, his skin crawled. In the village he met a great number of Norghanian soldiers, who were very busy. This was not a good sign. Soldiers tended to idle when there were no urgent orders. These ones were working hard, unloading and checking carts of supplies which must have arrived recently.

  Lasgol decided not to go into the village, but instead to make his way on to the frontier fort of Mortgon, half a day’s journey further south. They went on into the forest and found it easy enough to reach the fort. This was not very large and nor did it look very sturdy, but it served its purpose. It would withstand a few attacks by an enemy force.

  He turned to Camu. Ona and I are going to the fort. You wait here until I come for you. Do you understand?

  I wait.

  Behave.

  I always behave.

  Yeah… yeah… keep on experimenting with your skills, see what else you can develop.

  I try.

  Lasgol said goodbye to Camu, stroking his crested head and back.

  We’ll be back soon.

  He made his way on to the fort, with Ona beside him, telling her to be calm and stay close to him all the time. The soldiers were not happy about having snow panthers nearby.

  They arrived at the heavily guarded gate. “Ranger Specialist Lasgol Eklund,” he called loudly. He could see bows aimed at him from the part-stone, part-wooden towers on each side of the wrought iron gate. In front of the gate a dozen soldiers with round wooden shields and one-handed axes were watching him uneasily.

  “The panther’s with me. She’s my familiar,” he announced. The soldiers relaxed a little, but not too much.

  “Let him through,” came a voice. It sounded authoritative. Lasgol guessed this must be an officer.

  The soldiers at the gate moved back, and with a tremendous shriek the gate opened inwards in two parts. Inside, the fort was like an anthill, with more than a hundred soldiers in it. He walked in slowly, concerned about Ona. The soldiers moved away and pointed at her with worried expressions, some with fear in their eyes. Lasgol set his chin and walked confidently so that nobody would dare question his presence, still less that of Ona.

  “The officer in command?” he asked a couple of soldiers who had the air of veterans.

  “Far end, on the right. The best-looking barracks.”

  Lasgol gave a nod and went on past twenty or so men practicing combat with axe and shield to the accompaniment of a sergeant’s yells, and several of them stopped to look at him. The sergeant glanced aside at him and barked at his men to carry on practicing.

  Lasgol went past two weather-beaten, rather unwelcoming barracks and went up to the one which had been pointed out. At the door were two soldiers on duty. Lasgol introduced himself, and the officer must have heard him, because the door of the barracks opened and a senior officer came out to meet him.

  “The new Ranger they’re sending me?” he asked directly.

  “Commander Emerson?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Yes, I’m the Ranger they’re sending you.” Lasgol showed him his orders.

  The officer glanced at them. “Welcome, Lasgol. We’re grateful for any and all help. We’re short of Rangers, and the Zangrians keep moving their men to try and distract us. A new explorer and tracker will be very much appreciated. Nice animal,” he added, pointing at Ona, who stared at him, suddenly tense. She did not like to be pointed at.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Have you had any experience with Zangrians? I’m asking because you look young, and I haven’t seen you near the southeastern border before. I’ve spent half of my life here, and I know just about everybody who’s passed through this area.”

  “No sir… in fact I don’t know much about them,” Lasgol was forced to admit, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “I’ll explain briefly. The Zangrians are a crude people with a short temper, shorter even than our own, and that’s one of
the shortest in the continent as it is. They’re belligerent, and their King Caron doesn’t much mind going to war. In fact, it’s thought to be one of his aims. He wants to expand his power, and for that he needs to conquer more lands. He’s spent years having confrontations in the south of his kingdom, by the Thousand Lakes. He’s in dispute with King Dasleo, the monarch of Erenal, over them. Dasleo isn’t a warrior king, but nor is he going to let himself be trampled on. Erenal is very rich and prosperous. Caron is also looking north, towards our own kingdom, because now he sees us as weak. He’s a dangerous king, with a people who will gladly follow him into war. They’re dangerous. If their efforts at the Thousand Lakes are fruitless, it’s very likely that he’ll try the same thing here, in our kingdom.”

  Lasgol tried to take in all this information. There was one detail that did not fit. “Don’t we have a peace treaty with Zangria?”

  “We have a peace treaty with them, that’s true. But there’s a small setback: the monarchs who signed it are no longer alive.”

  “Uthar…”

  “On our side, and Volkstren on the Zangrian side. It seems that King Caron doesn’t fully intend to honor the agreement signed by his predecessor.”

  “But aren’t treaties between nations binding when they’ve been signed by previous kings?” Lasgol asked. The moment the question had left his lips he knew he was being naïve.

  “Every king tends to have his own ideas and only respects what interests him. I don’t have much confidence that King Caron will respect the peace treaty, and nor does Duke Orten. King Thoran’s brother doesn’t trust the intentions of the Zangrians, and that’s why we’re here.”