The Ranger's Sorrow: The King's Ranger Book 4

by AC Cobble

  “REW, I KNOW YOU ARE HERE.”

  Under his breath, the ranger muttered, “Let’s hope that’s not true.”

  There was a pause while the voice echoed through the streets.

  “I SET A TASK FOR YOU. FIND ALSAYER, BRING HIM TO ME ALIVE. FIND KALLIE FEDGLEY, BRING HER TO ME DEAD. I FELT HER SOUL WHEN SHE DEPARTED. I FOUND HER. I FOUND YOU TRICKED ME. IT WASN’T HER I NEEDED. HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?”

  Thinking it best not to answer even quietly, Rew helped Cinda and the nameless woman out of the cistern and then began leading them down the street, staying close to the walls, hiding within the shadows.

  Rew knew the voice. He’d heard it since he was a child. It was the king. Vaisius Morden must have portaled into the Arcanum the moment he felt his spy perish, and was now amplifying his words, casting them through the entire compound. Pausing, Rew frowned. Why would he do that? The king was likely telling the truth. If he’d found Kallie Fedgley’s soul, he could have learned everything that she knew. The king knew it was Cinda, now. The king wasn’t the type to ruminate on such things once the circumstances changed. He acted decisively. He acted quickly.

  Pointing to a building, Rew led the others silently into an abandoned tower.

  “YOU LEARNED THE SECRET OF THE SWORD? BE WARNED. MY FATHER WILL USE YOU TO HIS OWN ENDS. YOU CANNOT TRUST HIM. THERE’S A REASON I LOCKED HIM AWAY. DO NOT LISTEN TO HIS HONEYED WORDS. HE’LL USE YOU TO ESCAPE. DO. NOT. TRUST. HIM.”

  The old man had a point, but that’s not why he was speaking. He was trying to drive Rew out of hiding. The sacrifice in Jabaan had worked. Rew was no longer bound to the king, but a company of the black legion were. They wouldn’t have been affected by Reynald’s poison. Even now, they could be moving through the Arcanum, hunting.

  Rew wouldn’t risk explaining that to the others. He didn’t know how well the undead could hear or if the king had some other means to ferret them out. Fortunately, after listening to the king’s booming voice, it seemed they all agreed that hiding was the thing to do.

  They crouched down in the tower, leaving the door open but finding the deepest shadows. Rew drew more darkness about them. He gathered it like a cloak and spread it over the others. They must have felt what he was doing. Anne and Cinda had felt it before. They scooted closer, all pressed together in the corner of the empty tower, their eyes gleaming with fear.

  There was a distant wail. Arcanist Reynald? Then nothing. Then the crunch of boots and armor. A shadow passed across the doorway. One of the black legion? It was impossible to tell in the dark. Rew held the pall of darkness, his illusion, hoping it worked as well against the undead as it did the living. He’d never needed to test it before.

  The shadow moved on. A minute later, two more passed.

  Rew and the others sat in silence, too terrified to even consider moving. Lethargy weighed on the ranger. It’d been a long day. Even lying prone, it was difficult to maintain the shadow around all of them, but he did. He had to. They weren’t ready to face the king. Not yet. If they were found, it would be over.

  The king’s voice periodically called out, offering forgiveness, a chance to explain, warnings about Erasmus, and then taunts. Had the king known a little bit more of his son, he could have descended to the fort at the base of the hill. He could have forced Rew and the others to make a difficult decision, but evidently, he didn’t know that half their party was down there. The king didn’t know what levers he could pull, who he could hurt to get to Rew, or perhaps it hadn’t occurred to him. Vaisius Morden would let his own sons murder each other so that he could take the strongest of their bodies. Maybe after so many years, so many deaths, he no longer understood remorse, how one person could care for another.

  And then it was over.

  The echoes of the voice faded. No more figures stalked by outside.

  Had the king left? That didn’t seem—

  Rew grimaced. There was a tugging on him, like a fish hook sunk into his skin. He looked at Cinda, but she stared resolutely at the doorway to the tower. If she’d felt necromantic magic, she would have shown it. It was low magic, ancient magic, largely forgotten over the last two centuries. The king’s binding to Rew’s soul was severed, but they were still of the same blood.

  Vaisius Morden couldn’t work such magic from afar, but he was near them, somewhere outside. He might be able to find Rew.

  The ranger let his thoughts drift, and he pushed, stretching with his mind to the land beyond the Arcanum. The compound was old, stable civilization, but the area around was wild. Rew gathered himself there, filling the space with himself. He spread, his consciousness swelling outward along the lines of the ancient magic that coursed through the world. The king would feel it. He’d know Rew was near, but not where. Vaisius Morden wouldn’t be able to pin them down unless he brought more men, enough to blanket the entire compound. What would he do?

  “Ah, Blessed Mother,” whispered the ranger.

  Rew grabbed the others and clutched them tight, rolling so that his body was over theirs. He flung himself out, riding the course of his own low magic, running adrift along the veins of power and clutching at the king. The old man might destroy the Arcanum, but he would shield himself first. If Rew could use the connection to bridge to the king, to wrap them in the king’s high magic—

  There was a roar. There was light. There was dark.

  There was silence.

  Chapter Twelve

  When he opened his eyes, vibrant color filled his vision. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? It was a lot bluer than he would have expected.

  Then, Zaine’s head popped into view as she leaned over him. She told him, “You look rough.”

  He wasn’t sure if he was moving or speaking. He couldn’t feel anything.

  Vurcell joined the thief, frowning at him. “Aye, I haven’t seen you this bad since after that night in Carff several years ago. You remember? Probably not. That woman wagered you couldn’t drink the entire jug, and—“

  “Now isn’t the time,” chided Anne’s calm voice.

  Calm.

  Why was she calm?

  The king had just blown up… Rew wasn’t even sure. He couldn’t summon the ability to turn his head and look, but he guessed the king must have blown up the entire Arcanum, if not more. King Vaisius Morden had tried to kill them. That he’d evidently failed wasn’t reason for calm, it was reason for panic, and that wasn’t even getting started on the fact that to the best of his recollection, they’d been inside when the explosion happened.

  Blessed Mother, what had happened?

  Anne, pushing the others aside, leaned into his view. She brushed her hair back. Her eyes were sunken, and dark semi-circles hung beneath them. Her lips were parched, and even her hand seemed thin, skeletal. She did not smile, as the others had, but her eyes had the same calm acceptance he’d heard in her voice. She’d healed him. King’s Sake, she’d healed him. He wanted to fight, to thrash, to scream, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. He saw, beyond the calm, the darkness in her eyes. She finally understood.

  “I’m sorry, Rew. For what it’s worth, you will live, but you need to rest.”

  Anne’s hand, warm, the first sensation he’d felt since waking, brushed over his face, and he slept.

  When Rew returned to consciousness again, he regretted it. Not just because Anne had healed him, but because every part of his body was aflame with pain. His skin felt blistered and raw, his muscles wrenched and torn, his bones hurt with a fierce ache he’d never known before. He hadn’t thought bones could hurt, but they did. His skull roared in time with the beat of his heart, each new surge of blood vanquishing thought with a wave of agony. He would have cracked his own skull to end it, if he could summon the energy. His jaw quivered. Had he been clenching it for hours, for days?

  Long enough that he’d been moved. He no longer saw blue sky above his head but canvass. It was lit by what looked to be natural light. The same day, the next day? His stomach rumbled at the
thought.

  He heard a rustling, and then Anne was above him again. “Let me help you up. I think you can take some broth now.”

  He didn’t see as he had much choice in the matter, and before he could work up the ability to respond, Anne had put her hands beneath him and shifted him, putting something soft behind his head to prop him up.

  Opening his mouth, he began to work it slowly. It felt numb, like a stranger’s lips and tongue. He could move his eyes and glanced around the tent. He was sprawled out on a mat, a thick wool blanket over his body. The tent flap stirred from the air outside, and he could see it was day. There were several other empty pallets in the tent and Anne, who was leaning toward him with a bowl and a spoon.

  He practiced swallowing, then managed the slightest nod to her. She began trickling the broth into his mouth, and at first, he felt nothing, but as more of the rich liquid dripped down his throat, he felt the warmth. She must have just taken it from the pot. Had that woken him? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t hear much beyond the walls of the tent. It felt like his ears were muffled with wool.

  Anne was halfway through spooning the bowl into him before he garnered enough energy to speak. “What… Where?”

  “We’re two hours north of the Arcanum,” replied Anne. She frowned. “What is left of the Arcanum. You remember, the king?”

  He nodded, slightly.

  “The entire place… exploded. You dove onto us, saving our lives. We were the only things that survived. The entire complex was demolished. It was a clean, controlled blast. The damage scoured the walls of the Arcanum and nothing beyond. Whether the king was striking at us or destroying evidence of what occurred within that place, I don’t know. I supposed it could be both. All I know is that when I came to, you were lying on top of me, and while we were all the worse for wear, we were intact. The others were unscathed—more or less—but you were severely drained of life. I thought you might be dead. I poured empathy into you, but… What did you do?”

  “I…“ started Rew. He paused, trying to gather himself. “I knew the king would shield himself, so I channeled that protection. I—I am his son. I drew on our connection.”

  “Surely there’s more?” asked Anne. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing such a thing with low magic. You must have used high, but…”

  “Later,” he said. He shifted and aimed at what he knew would reach her. “I’m feeling weak. I should rest.”

  Anne nodded and began spooning more broth into his mouth.

  He was bone-tired. That was the truth. His body was more exhausted than he ever recalled being, but his mind, in fits and starts, was beginning to work again. He needed time to gather strength to talk, but he also needed time to muster his thoughts, to understand what had happened.

  Anne kept feeding him, and as she did, she told him of the last three days. They’d been unconscious for several hours after the explosion, long enough that Ang and Vurcell had deemed it safe, and they and Raif and Zaine had come looking amongst the destruction of the Arcanum. They’d found the four members of the party lying unconscious in the lee of a blown-over tower. With their assistance, the party had escaped the ruins of the Arcanum, but the former rangers had sent them north instead of sheltering them in the fort. The twins worried about emissaries from the king coming to search the wreckage.

  It’d been a wise concern, as a party of arcanists had appeared, though they’d spent no more than a few hours perusing the wreckage of the compound. It wasn’t clear to Ang and Vurcell if that was because the arcanists already knew what had happened or if they were afraid to go too close to the scene of such an incredible conflagration. It must have occurred to the learned men and women that if the king was willing to lay waste to the Arcanum, their own lives were of little value to him.

  Anne had told the former rangers what she knew, and all had agreed it was best for the party to remain in hiding until Rew recovered. Ang and Vurcell had arranged supplies, and since then, they’d all been waiting.

  Rew nodded and felt his eyelids begin to droop.

  “Sleep,” instructed Anne, putting away the empty bowl she’d been feeding him from. “On an empty stomach, this won’t do much to fill you, but I’ll give you more in a few hours when we know what you can keep down. Until then, sleep, and we’ll be nearby if you need us.”

  Wordlessly, he closed his eyes, but it was some time before he finally fell asleep. He had a lot to think about.

  The king would be actively hunting them. No matter how often Rew thought it, no matter what angle he assessed their situation from, no matter how many times he tried to imagine his way out of that simple fact, it never got better. The most powerful man in Vaeldon’s history—the man who had formed the nation itself—would be putting all of his effort into tracking them down and killing them. And once dead, he would capture their souls. For eternity, they would dance on strings Vaisius Morden pulled.

  The situation was grim.

  The others tried to stay buoyant through Rew’s recovery, but they all knew the score, and they all felt it. Cinda mentioned that they’d been planning on facing the king anyway, and Raif had declared he’d been aching to make it a fight. Zaine had tried to relieve the tension with her dry humor, but her barbs landed on raw flesh, and quickly she gave up and kept quiet. The nameless woman seemed shocked, as if she couldn’t decide how things had gone so wrong. She didn’t come to see Rew in his tent, and the others told him she rarely spoke at all. Anne was a soothing presence for everyone, performing the same functions she always had. She cooked, consoled, and chided them to not give up hope.

  It went without saying that while their challenge seemed insurmountable, doing anything possible to avoid falling into the king’s clutches was worth trying. It wasn’t a show of bravery or a commitment to doing the right thing. In truth, it was the only thing they could do. They had to admit that their situation was what it was. The truth wasn’t pleasant, but it was motivation, and that’s what gave Rew the idea which finally got him moving again.

  It’d been a week since the explosion at the Arcanum, and they’d been staying hidden in the tiny encampment Ang and Vurcell had found for them. It wasn’t comfortable, and boring was the most pleasant description anyone voiced for their week of recuperation, but the isolated camp kept them safe. As the days passed, their instincts to hide were confirmed as valid, and eventually, they stopped complaining.

  During those days, either Ang or Vurcell managed to slip away a few times to share news, but all of it involved an increased presence at the fort, the lockdown of the women’s colony, and the release of hundreds of the king’s legion on the countryside to try and find trace of Rew and the others.

  The best of the king’s legion was out there, but not the king’s rangers. The twins had obscured the signs Rew and the party had left during their flight, and no common soldier was going to be able to follow the trail. Hidden as their encampment was, the odds of random discovery were low.

  “Just a few hundred soldiers?” asked Rew. “That’s more for show than a real effort to locate us.”

  “I agree,” responded Ang. “It’s been a week. They probably think you’ve been moving since then, but the king has to put on some sort of performance for the soldiers and the women who know what happened up there. Rew, it’s better than the alternative.”

  Rew grunted. Ang was right. The king had stayed his hand and had contained the conflagration he’d released within the Arcanum. When it came to protecting his secrets, Vaisius Morden wasn’t always so considerate of those nearby.

  “What about the rangers?” inquired Rew. “Has he sent anyone after us?”

  “He won’t,” said Ang. He looked over his shoulder, as if afraid that somehow, hours from anywhere, someone might overhear him. “The rangers are… no longer the king’s. He made a mistake trying to hide the truth from us. We all know the stories, what has occurred during previous Investitures. We see it happening now, no matter how hard the king pretends we do not. It’s too much
, Rew. None of us want to serve that man.”

  “I hope no one is doing anything stupid,” warned Rew.

  Ang shrugged. “It’s too much. They’d rather follow you. Most of them know who you are, Rew.”

  Rew lay quietly. Finally, he said, “It’s not just the king.”

  “The princes—“

  “Ang,” interrupted Rew, “I want to believe what we are doing is right, but we’ve brought much sorrow to this world. I’m not the leader the rangers need, that Vaeldon needs.”

  “Rew,” replied Ang, his words tumbling slowly from his lips, “I know your sorrow. I can see it in Anne’s eyes, even if neither of you will voice it. I… Rew, right now Vaeldon doesn’t need a better king. One day, I hope that need will come, but today, we need to get rid of the king we have. It’s going to be messy, and it’s going to be painful. We know that. It’s not despite the sorrow this will cause. It’s because of the sorrow it will cause that the rangers will follow you. They’ll follow you, knowing that in the end, no matter how painful, it was for the right reasons.”

  Rew let out a sharp, bitter chuckle. “Follow me to their deaths, most likely.”

  “Perhaps,” replied Ang, “but if there’s a path to a better future, they’ll take it. I know you worry about putting others in danger, but we’re already in danger. Isn’t it safer if we walk the path together? If the rangers oppose the king alone, they’re going to get killed for nothing. We both know that’s happened before. He’s too powerful, and the others have no skills with which to face him. If you have a way, you have to lead us.”

  Ang was right. The rangers, despite their collective skill, were no match for the king. They knew that, and still, they were willing. They were willing because they knew the truth of Vaisius Morden’s reign. His power was nigh limitless, and he stood on unshakable ground, supported by the strength of an entire kingdom.