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

by AC Cobble

  Whether he could taste and enjoy the food or not, they’d been through a lot, and it was foolish to ignore a hot breakfast when they had one. His motion seemed to break a spell on the party, and they all began eating again, except for Raif, who was staring at his plate, confused.

  “Do you think we can be allies?” asked Baron Barnaus.

  Rew chewed for a moment then swallowed. “Allies? I already rid your city of three hunters who I believe we can agree would have ravaged this place if I hadn’t intervened.”

  “And I believe we can agree there’s no doubt those hunters were only in Olsoth because of your presence,” retorted the baron, bobbling his hands as if they were scales. “Hundreds of my people are dead, and hundreds are worse than dead, Ranger. I visited them in the infirmary, and they’re just… lying there. We’re discussing whether or not killing them would be a mercy.”

  “Perhaps the hunters struck Olsoth to get to us, but they were already on the plains before we arrived in the region,” argued Rew. “Sooner or later, they were going to attack. The balance is in our favor, Baron.”

  “Boys,” said Anne, leaning forward and glaring at the two of them. “Does it really matter what happened in the past? Barnaus, you’re hoping we rid you of your liege. It’s a dangerous pursuit, and if we’re successful, I imagine all of Vaeldon will be waiting breathlessly for what Rew intends next. His support will be a boon for anyone hoping to obtain the throne in Mordenhold, or anyone hoping to keep any landholding in Vaeldon, I suppose. For his support in the future, what can you offer?”

  Baron Barnaus steepled his fingers and smiled at the empath. “No simple woman, are you? I’ve been wondering why the ranger keeps you in his company.”

  “She has a fair point,” said Rew. “If all you intend is to let us go on our way, that’s not enough for me to consider you anything other than another noble. Besides, you saw what happened below. Do you really think you can keep us here if we want to leave?”

  Baron Barnaus pursed his lips and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Of course. I ask much, so I must give much. There are two things I can offer you. One, information. I’ve spent time in Iyre. I know Heindaw, and I know the people in his court. I can tell you who is dangerous. I can describe his spellcasters and their capabilities, and I can tell you what I suspect Heindaw has been developing as a weapon for the Investiture. I can map out the city for you and describe the protection he’s arranged around himself.”

  “Information is a valuable commodity,” conceded Rew.

  “I can also save you time,” continued Barnaus. “It’s a long walk to Iyre. It’ll take you at least a week and a half if you left today. While on the road, the Investiture may very well pass you by. Who knows what could happen while you’re hiking north, and if you think to portal into Iyre, you should know Heindaw has prepared for it. Of course he has. If he hadn’t, Valchon would have already appeared there and cast his maelstrom over the city. You heard about Stanton? Going to Iyre is a long, tiring journey, but I can help. I have access to a portal stone. It’s an established connection which Heindaw will not detect, and I’m the only one who knows about it.”

  “If I show up in Heindaw’s basement…” began Rew.

  Barnaus shook his head. “You’re right. The portal stones in the palace will be more closely guarded than Heindaw’s own bedchamber. It’d be suicide, even for you, to attempt strolling into there. I have another way. Heindaw’s predecessor in Iyre—the king—is an enchanter as well, did you know? An enchanter who had a mistress who was my mother. When Vaisius Morden the Eighth won over his brothers and took his seat in Mordenhold, my mother went with him, but before she did, she left me the secret of the portal stones she used to visit him in Iyre. As far as I know, the king is the only other person who realizes the stones exist, and because the connection is established, Heindaw will have no idea you are in his city. I’ve tested it myself several times, and I’m certain the passage is safe.”

  Rew frowned. “Your mother went to Mordenhold…”

  Baron Barnaus’ eyes flashed. “When Morden was crowned, I was named Baron of Olsoth and given enough work to keep me busy for years. By the time things settled, the letters had stopped coming. I never saw my mother again, Ranger. I’m not a complete fool, so I’ve never mentioned her to the king, and I’ve stopped checking the faces of the women I see on my rare visits to the capital. I asked Heindaw once, and he laughed and changed the subject. I don’t know the details, but I suppose I don’t really need to, do I?”

  “You don’t have children, do you?”

  “No children,” confirmed Baron Barnaus, his voice cold and eager. “No children, just a hope. I know I can’t do it myself, but you…” The baron shrugged. “If you are successful, and you see fit to grant me your blessing, I’ll do the best I can for whatever people I end up ruling. I swear that to you, Ranger, but if you do not grant me your blessing, I will still do what’s in my power to stop the reign of your father, just as you do. Either way, the promises of nobles fade as quickly as an echo, so I will not ask for yours. Instead, I’ll offer what assistance I can, and trust that you remember me when all of this is over. Assuming we both survive, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Rew. “Valchon must know we are here by now, so we need to keep moving. I suggest we rest another day while you tell us what you know. After that, how quickly can we access the portal stone?”

  “It’s right here in Olsoth,” said Barnaus, showing a wicked grin. “I agree that speed is important. A day of rest and discussion, and at dawn, you go to Iyre.”

  They questioned the baron about Heindaw and his court, learning the talents of his spellcasters, the organization of his soldiers, and the layout of the small home the portal stone would take them to. It was much that Rew already knew and confirmation of what he feared. Heindaw had been plotting against his older brother Valchon from afar, and he’d intentionally goaded the invoker, hoping Valchon would move first against Iyre where Heindaw had spent years layering traps around the city and around his palace. The efforts Heindaw had made in Spinesend and elsewhere in the Eastern Province had been to anger Valchon and to spur him into a rash attack. Cutting through the traps Heindaw had laid wasn’t going to be easy.

  The prince had set a complex network of wards throughout the city, and the palace was nearly covered with them. His entire military force was held close, along with his spellcasters. He’d been training specialty units for the coming battle, with which he hoped to surprise Valchon. He’d enchanted unique equipment, which he would utilize in the final confrontation. Knowing Heindaw, it was much that Rew would have guessed already, but it was good to understand a few specifics.

  Unfortunately, while Barnaus related rumors of an elite force recruited and held ready in the Arcanum, he clearly didn’t know the whole truth. He didn’t know Heindaw had been attempting to raise the dead, and as far as he knew, when the Arcanum had been destroyed, Heindaw’s minions had gone with it. Had Salwart been successful raising any of the dead? Were those creations all destroyed in the king’s attack, or would they have to face them in Iyre? Or it could be none of that. It could have been a failed experiment which Heindaw had spread rumor of to distract Valchon.

  Rew sighed. The baron had even less information about what Salwart and Heindaw had been attempting in Spinesend with Baron Fedgley. The ranger probed as best he could, without revealing his own hand, and came up empty. If he had to guess, that meant the real plot was Fedgley, and the Arcanum was a feint to sow confusion, but guessing Heindaw’s intent was a more complicated ball of thread than Rew had time to untangle.

  Most disappointing, Barnaus had no knowledge of the nameless woman or the Sons of the Father. He was aware of the cult, as anyone familiar with Iyre would be, but according to him, the temple had never burned down, and the cult had little to do with local politics. Descriptions of the nameless woman made the baron simply shrug. He spent most of his time in Olsoth, but when he’d been in Heindaw’s court, he had
n’t noticed anyone meeting her description.

  “A beautiful warrior woman adorned in enchanted armor? I would have noticed, Ranger. I might not have children, but I have the same desires as all men.”

  It made Rew nervous, knowing the woman was out there and that, somehow, she’d slipped away from their camp in the hours before Valchon’s hunters had found them. Rew assumed she’d been in league with Heindaw, but how had she sensed Valchon’s men? Had it truly been recognition of the hunters that spurred her flight? If so, where would she have gone?

  When they’d exhausted much of Baron Barnaus’ knowledge and the nobleman had left to tend to the damage in his city, the children sprawled out on couches and beds and promptly fell asleep. Rew was eying them enviously, wishing another night wedged in front of the door didn’t sound so unpleasant, when Anne came and sat down in front of him, crossing her legs and settling on the floor.

  “Do you want to explain?”

  Rew rubbed his hand over his head. “No.”

  “I couldn’t see… but I felt a connection between you and that sword, Rew. It’s… not just a sword, is it? It’s alive. There’s an echo of it within you, a hurt. I’d say anger, but it’s beyond that. Rage like I’ve never encountered. Do you feel that always?”

  “Alive isn’t the right word,” he murmured, “but something like it. And yes, I feel it every time I touch the hilt, though its manageable until I release the powers trapped within. Then… I’ve survived it so far.”

  Anne waited patiently, sitting at his feet, watching him.

  He coughed and looked everywhere but at her.

  “Don’t tell me it’s too dangerous for me to know the truth,” said the empath. “You only get to use that excuse once.”

  Sighing, Rew leaned forward and grasped her hands. “The sword is imbued with the soul of Erasmus Morden, Vaisius’ father. I can call upon his power through the blade.”

  Anne’s jaw fell open, and she stared at him wordlessly.

  “He’s been imprisoned in the steel, entombed there by his own son, for over two hundred years. Using this longsword, calling upon Erasmus, is how I learned of what Vaisius Morden had become and how I learned to defeat him. The king knows his father is trapped within the blade, of course. He used this weapon himself in the early years when he fought the Dark Kind and consolidated Vaeldon. Over time, Erasmus grew in understanding of his prison, and he fought back against Vaisius, making this weapon useless to the king. Later, others picked up the blade, but there is incredible danger in utilizing it fully. From what I’ve discovered, everyone eventually gives into temptation. They draw too much or too often, and they fail.”

  “But… the king’s father?”

  “Erasmus holds great hatred for his son,” continued Rew. “That’s the rage you felt. It’s his hurt as well, hurt at his son’s betrayal, maybe, but sometimes I think it is regret he did not act first. For decades, this sword sat untouched in the king’s palace. I don’t believe my brothers know it is Erasmus entombed within, but they do know the cost the blade exacts. Morden family history is littered with stories of those driven mad by this weapon. The king and my brothers do not believe I have the capability to cast high magic and hence am not able to draw upon the power of Erasmus. They’re wrong.”

  “High magic?”

  “I’m a son of the king,” murmured Rew. “I chose a different path, but that old path is not closed to me.”

  “That hatred, how does it not consume you? The hurt, how do you bear it? What I felt through our connection still is an ache inside of me. It’s not like any pain I’ve ever experienced. It does not go away.”

  “No, it does not,” replied Rew with a bitter smile. “I try to avoid utilizing the power of the sword. It’s the only thing I can do to combat Erasmus’s hunger. It’s been years since I last had to draw upon his strength. Today… I didn’t think there was a choice.”

  The empath’s expression was clouded with grief, a mirror to his own sorrow. She’d felt it. She knew.

  Rew cleared his throat. “Vaisius Morden is his father’s son, Anne. Erasmus was not a good man. He’s… evil, and when I activate this blade, he is a part of me. I can feel him coursing through my blood and connecting with what is already there. He is a part of me. His thoughts, his memories. You felt that when you healed me, didn’t you? It’s like filth upon my soul.”

  “Erasmus is a part of you, but he is not you.”

  “You felt it?”

  Anne looked away and nodded.

  Squeezing her hands, Rew continued. “I do not fear I will become him and be compelled to commit the same atrocities he did, or his son, or his sons… my uncles, my brothers. I don’t fear I will become them, but I fear Erasmus will become me. He fights me, tries to take control. He seethes, Anne. He yearns for revenge not just against his son but against all. Today, after I killed the hunters, I could feel the blade thirsting for more blood. The sword—Erasmus—would have helped me slaughter anyone I turned the edge against. He would have reveled in the blood if I’d struck down all of Olsoth, but when I stopped, the blade wanted me. The will of Erasmus is a part of me, and it wanted to plunge that sword straight through my own neck. I fought it, and I won, but it’s close every time. So close.”

  “Oh, my.”

  Rew sat back. “This sword has the properties of any enchanted blade. It’s sharp, sturdy, but… I fear to unleash what it can truly do. I fear that one day, it will mean my death. I know that within moments of unleashing that force, I won’t be able to stop it—stop myself—from taking the lives of others. Every time, it gets harder to bend Erasmus to my will. It gets harder to sheath the blade. It’s a gamble on how quickly I can act against how quickly I can reseal his tomb. Anne, I have not always been quick enough. You… you understand? People have died because I lost the wager against time, against Erasmus.”

  She freed a hand and wiped the back of it beneath her eye. She cleared her throat and said, “You turned from that path when we went to Eastwatch.”

  “I’ve changed, but I’m still me.”

  “I sensed the connection between you and the blade when I healed you,” she admitted. “I’m still tied to you, and today when you fought those hunters, something… traveled between the sword and you. A bit of Erasmus, I suppose, joined you. That is why you find it more difficult to control him after each use. After each time, there is more of him inside of you. Rew, I, ah, I said that you were not him, that you would not become him, but… You’re right. The taint is upon your soul. It’s not you, but it’s there. I think he’s… escaping, bit by bit, into you. That’s what the king spoke of, in the Arcanum, isn’t it?”

  Rew nodded. “Erasmus, while not as powerful as Vaisius, was the most powerful spellcaster the world had seen during his era. His talents would dwarf anyone outside of the Morden line, even today. When I began using the blade, before I became a ranger, I wasn’t as cautious as I should have been. I learned from him, but he learned from me as well. He’s been brooding for centuries, and with me, he found what he needed. You’re right. It’s me. I’m his way out of this prison. I am his path to revenge.”

  “I don’t think you should…”

  “I agree, Anne,” said Rew, giving her a small smile. “I won’t use the sword again. Not like that. You understand now, why I never allowed you to heal me? This… darkness is always with me. Part of it will be with you, now. I knew if you felt that…”

  She brought herself upon her knees and put her hands on his legs. “Rew. I can feel that darkness, but I also feel you. You’re fighting it. You always have. You always will.”

  He tried to smile and did not respond. She spoke of a certainty that he did not share.

  Standing slowly, she rubbed her hips. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve still got some sleep to catch up on. It’s been years since I could hike like we did these last days and not pay for it.”

  “Me too,” said Rew, “but—don’t argue—I’m going to sleep in front of the door
again. I slept in the chair last night. It was comfortable enough.”

  She didn’t look like she believed him, but she left him there in the chair with one of his feet propped against the door, guarding against anyone coming into their room. He sat there, but he did not sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  True to his word, Baron Barnaus showed Rew and the others to a hidden portal stone which took them to the city of Iyre. The portal stone was concealed within a wardrobe in a sumptuous apartment near the baron’s own rooms, and it led to a simple townhouse several blocks from Prince Heindaw’s palace. Presumably, there were furtive ways one could take from the townhouse to the palace, but Barnaus wasn’t familiar with those, and as Rew looked around the small home, he didn’t see anything obvious.

  Zaine rapped on walls, peeked behind furniture, and finally admitted, “If there’s a hidden door or tunnel, I can’t find it.”

  “One of the princes created this and hid it,” said Rew. “Maybe there’s something we could find if we searched hard enough, or maybe they portaled from here to the palace. If wards were laid around the edge of the city, they could move freely within it. Or who knows? Maybe the prince and Baron Barnaus’ mother just walked out the front door late at night, and no one ever noticed.”

  “However they did it, it’s been a long time,” remarked Anne sourly.

  The empath was standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking disdainfully at the thick layers of dust that coated every surface. There was some evidence of traffic from the portal stone to the front door, but Barnaus had said he’d used the portal stones several times in the past. He certainly hadn’t used the kitchen. It looked as if it’d been decades since anyone had been in there, which Rew supposed was the truth. The prince won the Investiture, but then Vaisius Morden took his soul. This was the prince’s place, not the king’s. Even if the king had taken knowledge of the townhome from his son’s memories, he had no reason to be sneaking about the city.