Ranger Rising: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 1 (Ranger Series)

by Salvador Mercer

  “Yes.”

  “And it talked back?”

  “Well, more like screeched, but I understood him,” Elister said, the smile being replaced with an expression of confusion.

  “Okay, and who did you talk to before that?”

  “So many questions. Well, if you must know, since we have time, I had a good chat with Core. I had to convince him to help us.”

  Targon probably had the same look of confusion on his face the old man had. “The bear? You talked to that large bear?”

  “Yes.” And again, the nod.

  “Where is the bear now?”

  “Core is right up the trackway not more than two or three stone throws away keeping watch since Argyll isn’t here to do so.”

  “Wait one second. Let me rephrase the question. When was the last time you talked to a human being, a real person?”

  Elister walked over to one of the two tree trunk stumps that were sitting just off the front porch and sat on one, scratching his head. His staff had been sitting next to Targon’s weapons, so now he had both hands free. Putting his elbows on his knees, he hunched over and rested his chin in his hands and started to mumble. “Hmm. Let me see . . . hmm . . . how long . . . hmm . . .”

  “Fine, who did you talk to last if you can’t remember when?”

  “Well, that is an easy question. Why didn’t you ask that first? I talked to your grandfather, Luc,” Elister said, now sitting upright, rather pleased with himself for remembering the answer.

  “He’s been dead for five years. You mean to tell me you’ve not talked to a single living soul in five years?” Targon asked, coming over to sit next to the old man on the other stump.

  “I speak to living things every day!” Elister responded with a slightly hurt look on his face.

  “Understood, sorry. I meant human living being, not animal.”

  “Ah, yes, well, then, you are correct. It was longer than five years ago. I think the last time we talked he was just a boy.”

  “Why, that would have been over fifty years ago!” Targon exclaimed, trying to wrap his mind around the information the old man had just given him.

  “Yes, seems about right. You are very perceptive.”

  “So, you two were boys, then? Were you friends?”

  “No, not a boy. I was traveling in the area and decided to look in on Mars and Melinda and found young Luc playing just over there, near that brook,” he said, pointing to the Bony Brook where Targon often played and bathed.

  “How old are you?” Targon asked, his mouth gaping open.

  “Not sure. I think I slept a few years here and there, but by last count, I think I am eleven twenty-three, give or take a decade or two.”

  Targon just looked at the old man in awe. Now he was sure the old man was crazy, and he must have had the wild bear hit him on the head. Over a thousand years old and talking to animals? Yup, crazy was the right word. “Not possible, old man, but let’s not argue the details, though one hundred and three I might believe, just the right age for dementia to set in.”

  “Indeed!” huffed Elister, taking the indignation in stride.

  “Really though, old . . . I mean, Elister. I need to get going and see if I can find my family. They were on those Kesh lock carts, and I believe they may have passed the old keep on the trade road nearby sometime today,” Targon said as he headed to pick up his weapons and prepare to leave.

  “They actually passed by here yesterday,” the old man said, still seated but looking intently now at Targon, eyes narrowing a bit. “Don’t you have some other guests you are responsible for?”

  Targon finished putting his bow and quiver across his back and was tucking his axe into his belt. He had to admit, he felt fairly well for having just been hit in the head with a rock and having had a knife stuck in his abdomen earlier that morning, though it was obvious to himself that the knife missed any vital organs and was nothing more than a deep flesh wound. “You mean the city folk from Korwell?”

  “Them and our little neighbor from the old road. What’s her name?”

  “You must mean Marissa, and you seem to know an awful lot for someone that hasn’t talked to anyone alive in over half a century. What about her?”

  “Well, she is one of us, not, what did you call them? City folk.”

  “I’ll be back for them soon enough, right after I free my family.”

  “You’ll need more than that bow and axe to free them, I’m afraid.” They crossed the mountain pass this afternoon and are now in Kesh. The pass is well guarded.”

  “But maybe my family is in a different cart, maybe they are still in Ulatha,” Targon said pleadingly, almost begging Elister to give him different facts.

  “I’m afraid not, again,” Elister said, bowing his head in sincere sadness. “Dareen and Ann are already in Kesh.”

  Targon ran over to the old man and practically shook him till he stood and faced him. “How do you know this and how do you know their names?” Targon practically yelled, still shaking the old man’s shoulders.

  “Calm down, Targon! As I said, I know your family. Baldric, Dareen, your brother, Malik, your sister, Ann, your grandparents, Luc and Julia, Luc’s parents, Mars and Melinda, their parents . . .”

  “I get it! You know about me and my family and our history, but HOW do you know about my mother and sister NOW!” Targon had quit shaking the old man and started to feel a tear forming in his eye.

  “Argyll told me. He talked to your mother this very day and returned this afternoon. They are doing well, or as well as can be locked in a Kesh slave cart.”

  “How . . . how could she talk to a bird?”

  “Well, a falcon actually, but yes, she has the gift. All the Terrels do, though it lies dormant in most of you, especially the men of the family. Your mother is an initiate of the druid order.”

  “Nonsense!” Targon retorted, looking about for his black cloak. There is no magic in Agon, just death and suffering.” Finally finding his cloak hanging on an old nail against the wall of the cabin, Targon headed north along the trackway at a quick walk.

  “Where are you going?” Elister asked, following him up the trackway.

  “I’m going to find my mother and my sister,” Targon replied without looking back.

  “It’s not safe, Master Terrel,” Elister responded, using the more formal title for Targon. “You forgot your pack too!”

  “I don’t need it,” Targon said.

  Targon quickly passed the bear without even seeing him, but Elister stopped on the trackway as the large bear rambled onto it and waited patiently. “Follow him, please, Core. See to it he returns when he learns what I’ve already told him.”

  The bear snorted and pawed at the ground.

  “I don’t care if it’s going to rain soon: in fact, it might clean you up a bit from your long hibernation. You could use a good bath,” Elister said to the bear. A few more snorts and a growl and the bear still didn’t move. “Well, I won’t be around much longer, and you will need him soon enough. We just need to save him from himself first.” The bear snorted one last time. “I hope you’re right, Core. I hope you’re right, indeed.”

  With that, the large brown bear just snorted once and trotted off the trackway, following the young human. He didn’t need to see him directly, as he could smell him and his blood very clearly in the dusk’s cooling air. It would be easy to follow the human, and so human and bear traveled north along the trackway for the better part of a few hours at a very quick pace before they arrived at the ancient trade road. The human looked left toward the bridge over the Rapid River for a moment, and then he squatted, looking down at the ground. Finally, he stood and walked along the edge of the road east toward the old ruined keep that could just be seen at the base of the mountain pass. Targon was headed for Kesh.

  The sun set, and like the night before
, the small band of refugees huddled around the small fire near the old hunting blind. Salina wasn’t happy that some of the children were foraging for food so far from the blind, but she had to admit they didn’t have many options. The loosely knit band of refugees fleeing from Korwell was seriously lacking in strong men. It seemed, in hindsight, the Kesh leaders had made a conscientious decision to kill any man or boy old enough to wield a sword. This didn’t make much sense to her if they wanted slaves, as a man in his prime would be stronger and more valuable than a young boy, child, or even a much older man.

  Salina looked at the group as they talked lightly around her. With the exception of her son Cedric, and, of course, Will Carvel, they really didn’t have anyone able to wield a sword. Sure, Horace could fight if pressed, but at sixty-five, he already had one foot in the grave, as the old saying went, and the next oldest to Cedric was Thomas at twelve. Between eighteen and fifty, there were only her son and the injured sergeant of the gate.

  Salina grabbed her slender sword from the wall of the blind and pulled it from its leather sheath. She grabbed one of a few old rags she had and started to clean and wipe her blade from hilt to tip. No, she thought, as wife of the captain of the guard, I will fight, and I am in my prime. That made three of them.

  “Going to kill something?” Will asked her, sitting beside her and looking intently at her sword while gingerly pulling at the bandages on his left arm.

  Salina allowed herself a rare smile as she looked back at Will. “Only cutthroating thieves from Kesh . . . and maybe a squirrel or possum if one comes close enough,” she said with a small chuckle.

  “Aye, food is scarce,” Will said solemnly, “but maybe that’s a good thing. It keeps everyone’s thoughts on eating and not the sorrow and pain that come with loss.”

  “Did you lose anyone?” Salina asked while returning to her sword polishing.

  “Not really. There was, however, a rather nice, big bosomed wench that served ale at that old pub just outside the gate. The Pickled Pig. Did you know it?” Will asked.

  Salina laughed louder this time, getting a few looks from the older ladies, especially Celeste and Emelda. “Will, you old coot, the Pickled Pig was no place for a lady. We passed by it all right when heading to the town’s market, but I’ve never stepped foot in the place. What was her name, by the way?”

  “Hehe, yeah, I guess I frequented the less savory taverns in town, didn’t I? Her name was Inga, and she came from a little town far to the west near the Trovis Mountains before reaching the Western Sea. Far from home she was, but alas, I fear for her and the owners. I’d give mightily for a pint of ale and a word from her right now. Indeed, I would.”

  “Well, I’d sell my dress for a drink from the Pickled Pig,” Salina said, a smile appearing on her pretty face.

  Will and Salina sat in silence. Salina kept working on polishing her sword, which was now so shiny and clean that she could eat off of it, and Will watched the others as they ate pine nuts and wild cabbage. At least Marissa had found a few berry bushes, and her, Monique, Thomas, and Cedric, who said he was standing guard, managed to gather enough berries to eat during the day, so their diet had at least a small variety to it if nothing else that day.

  Agatha took Karz from where he lay next to his mother while Yolanda picked Amy up, and the four all went into the blind. The night before, when Targon had left, they had decided the younger children and the ladies would sleep in the blind while the men and boys slept and kept a watch outside. Emelda and Horace got into a serious ruckus when Horace refused to sleep inside the blind. Being her husband and all, she simply wanted him safe, but his refusal had made both Will and Salina chuckle. “I’ll not be coddled by an old bat,” Horace had said of Agatha. Luckily, Agatha was already in the blind and no doubt heard, but she had the sense to keep it to herself. In the end, Horace stayed with Will outside along with Cedric and Thomas.

  “Do you think he will return?” Salina asked Will as she finally finished polishing her sword and put it away.

  “You’d know better than I,” Will responded. “You had that pretty sit down talk with the lad down by the river. What did he say?”

  “Well, he said he would return, of course. You heard him well enough last night. He said his home was just over a half day’s walk from here. He’d need an entire day to just get there and return, much less do anything, so it’s early yet.”

  “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

  “Now, Will, you know how I feel about him. We would have all died back there had he not found us. Nothing personal, Will. You fought bravely and we would have never made it out of the town if not for your bravery and that of our soldiers. We are all thankful, but it would have all been for naught out here in the wild without his help.”

  “Agreed. I’m fond of the lad meself. Reminds me of, well . . . me when I was his age, but without the frontier skills. I’ve been thinking just how little we knew about the wilds here until we ran into the young lad. Seems he knows more than any of us about our own lands.”

  They had become accustomed to at least Cedric and Thomas stepping away from the blind, Marissa too, for that matter, so it was nothing of import when they did, and both Salina and Will assumed they didn’t stray too far. In fact, as Will had said, the loss of food kept them distracted from their personal losses, so when a panting Thomas arrived at the south end of the blind, out of breath and sweating profusely, they weren’t surprised to see him but rather at his state of arrival.

  “Quick! Cedric says you must come and see this!” Thomas said, fear in his voice.

  “What is it?” Salina said, pulling her sword out and standing to face him. Will awkwardly stood, using his one good arm to balance himself, and then looked for his sword near the blind’s wall.

  “Bandits!” Thomas said, his eyes wide with fear and excitement. “You have to come now!”

  Will finally found his sword and started for the south opening of the brush line, but stopped when he looked at Salina, who was shaking her head. “What is it, my lady?”

  “Not like that, Will. You can barely stand, and you clink loud enough when you walk for the dead to hear you.”

  Will tugged a bit at his chainmail shirt and looked sheepishly around. “Then who’s going?”

  “I will.” Salina sheathed her sword, which was now getting a workout, and grabbed her cloak and then pointed to Horace. “Stand watch here with Will and get everyone else inside!”

  Horace reached for the Kesh blade, and Jons grabbed at one of the crossbows, trying to point it south. “Jons, not tonight, all right?” Salina’s voice came softly now, the fear and edge of panic gone, the voice of a loving, concerned, and kind mother now replacing it.

  “Aw, I want to fight!” Jons said, just barely able to lift the bow up, much less point it anywhere. Olga and Celeste were already scurrying around the blind, heading inside, and Monique offered her hand to Marissa.

  “I need you to protect the ladies, Jons. Can you do this for me?” Salina asked gently.

  With a small pout but head held high, Jons muttered something they all took for a yes, and Salina watched him go inside with Monique and Marissa, taking one of the crossbows with him. “Will, see to it the fire is put out, and stand guard. Don’t shoot at anything in the dark until you’re sure it’s not us,” she said with a nod at the lone remaining crossbow.

  “I will. Do you think we’re safe with Jons and that crossbow?”

  “See to it that we are,” Lady Salina said, pulling her cloak tightly about her. “Now, Thomas, let’s go, but take me to Cedric slowly and keep it quiet.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Thomas replied, scurrying south into the dark, Lady Salina following right behind him.

  Will looked over to Horace, who was even now kicking dirt on the fire. “Bloody hell,” Horace said as they were plunged into darkness.

  Targon traveled unt
il he reached the old keep and then ducked behind a tree just to the north of the road. He stood there for a long while. There was no light and no movement coming from the keep. He knew the crazy old man’s bear was following him. At first, he was distracted and didn’t hear it, and the bear was trying to be silent. In fact, if the bear was following any one of the numerous city folk, Targon was sure the bear wouldn’t be heard. However, Targon wasn’t one of the city folk, and, well, despite all its attempts at being quiet, the bear was a bear. How could one not hear a half ton bear following you? Targon thought.

  The bear had stopped some distance behind him, and Targon was relieved because he wanted stealth at the moment and the bear’s presence worried him. Targon’s waiting finally paid off. There, at the base of the keep, was the faintest glimpse of a dark red glow. Someone had lit off a pipe or stick. Targon remembered his grandfather having a long pipe and occasionally smoking some southern Safron weed back in the day. This time, the habit was giving away the location of whoever stood at the old keep. More time passed, and then he saw movement at the top of the broken keep’s tower. A figure slowly backed away, and another moved in to take his place.

  Some sort of changing of a guard, Targon thought to himself. What am I doing here wasting time? His thoughts were almost screaming out loud, and he was upset for wasting so much time. Caution demanded patience, and despite his urgency, he knew he could do no good for his family if he was captured or worse, killed.

  Just then, the winds changed direction, and he felt the first pings of rain on his hand and hood. Oh great, now we have rain. What else can happen? Targon touched his side and it felt sore and a bit stiff but not much pain, and his headache was slowly subsiding, though he knew it would take a few days for the bump’s swelling to die down. Either he should be embarrassed for fainting with such a minor flesh wound or the old man’s healing skills were a force to be reckoned with. Either way, he was thankful for the help, and for the first time since this nightmare began, he did not feel he was alone, or at least alone with regards to carrying a large responsibility on his shoulders. Crazy and old, yes, but useful and kind too, so he’d take what he could get. He was just about to make a decision on what to do next when he was startled by the bear coming up behind him.