Rise of the Ranger (Echoes of Fate: Book 1)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  The ruckus on the other side of the double doors grew louder, as dozens of feet ascended the stairwell. Gideon’s best friend, Abigail Rose led the class of third years into the room, instructing them to line the auditorium’s circular edge. Her welcoming smile always put him at ease, not that he wasn’t use to teaching the younger classes by now. For the last three years the teachers of Korkanath had called on him to assist them with classes, as well as tutoring small groups on his own, though today was new, even for Gideon.

  The young teenagers milled around the edges, sticking with their friends and whispering about Gideon’s presence. As third years they all wore the same red robes with wide hoods down to their waist. Gideon remembered his third year well, as a thirteen year old mage-to-be, he had been so excited to finally pick his wand or staff. The boys and girls around him now, were only five months away from choosing the instrument of magic that would stay with them for the rest of their life.

  “I know you were all expecting to be taught by Master Banthora this morning,” Gideon’s words silenced the group, “but he has accompanied the Magikar and the high council to Velia on school business. Master Banthora asked me to continue your meditation techniques today.” The disappointed looks on their faces was exactly what Gideon was going for. “I know, I know, but don’t forget how important it is. Meditation is the best way to harness raw magic and contain it within a crystal. You all have this test at the end of the year when you come to pick your staff or wand.” He had disappointed them quite nicely. “So I thought instead of meditation, Miss Rose and I could demonstrate a few magical spells with each instrument.” The mood of the class changed immediately to one of elation. “Miss Rose...”

  Abigail strode into the middle of the circle, opposite Gideon. “Thank you Mr Thorn.” Her smile betrayed her lack of surprise at Gideon’s change in lesson plan. She knew him too well.

  “Miss Rose here favours a wand, as you can see.” Abigail removed her wand from its leather holster around her thigh. “It has an ash coating with the feather of a griffin infused. Its Demetrium core runs through the length of the haft. You should already know by now that Demetrium ore is extremely conducive to magic. Now...” Gideon reached over his shoulder and unclipped the small staff from its sheath on his back. When his hand gripped the middle of the staff it instantly grew outwards in both directions. “My staff has an oak finish with the hair of a centaur inlaid. If you want a compact staff like mine, then make sure you engrave the spell into the wood before adding the essence of any magical creature, doing it the other way around can result in loss of eyebrows. You should also bear in mind that if you choose a staff you will require more Demetrium for the core.” Gideon walked round the edges of the group, letting them all admire the intricate artistry of his staff. The students looked on, wide eyed, trying to make out the ancient script that spiralled the length of the wood.

  Abigail muttered a spell while pointing her wand at the back of her head, creating a telekinetic effect that tied her copper hair into a ponytail. “Who here can tell me the difference between a wand and a staff?”

  The teenagers shuffled in their groups until a bushy haired girl stepped forward. “There is no difference, Miss Rose. The Demetrium core serves as an equal conduit in both instruments, the choosing of either is simply a tradition passed on from the archmages’ of King Tion’s court.” The young girl stood defiantly against her peers’ obvious derision.

  “Well said.” Gideon took the lead again. “However, there are advantages and disadvantages to both. The wand can be concealed and easily used in confined spaces. The staff on the other hand can be used as a physical weapon in a tight situation, and believe me; sometimes the best option is to just hit a golem or a gobber over the head with a strong piece of wood.” His little quip had the desired effect.

  “Is it true Mr Thorn that you fought off a Golem and defeated a whole nest of Gorgons in the Vrost Mountains?” an enthusiastic boy asked. The story grew with every new version Gideon heard.

  “When you reach your eighth year you will all get the chance to leave this island, accompanying a master into the field and helping them with their research or experiments. Of course, the real world doesn’t have all the rules Korkanath adheres to, and real world problems may occur. Today, Miss Rose and I are going to demonstrate a few ways to help you deal with those problems. For your benefit we will say the spells aloud.” Gideon motioned for Abigail to take her position across the room. “Anything you like...”

  Abigail raised her eyebrow with a menacing smile to match. “Vala!” A ball of molten fire exploded from the end of her wand.

  “Darvuun!” Gideon braced himself, as the molten fire collided violently with a brilliant flash against his arcing blue shield.

  The fire dispersed across the field and fizzled out into sparks that rained onto the ancient stone floor. With a choir of gasps, the students took a quick step back from the magical display.

  Gideon let the class settle before continuing the lesson. “Now the ancient language is still being deciphered today by the high council and the Magikar. For every word we use, so too did the ancients. But you must not only think the ancient word, but also understand its meaning and be sure to mould the spell correctly. Vala means fire, but the will of the caster combined with a wand or staff can change the form of the spell...” Gideon swept his staff into a semicircle and uttered the fire spell. Instead of creating a molten ball of fire, the staff erupted with a constant stream of the blazing energy. “That’s called dragon’s breath.”

  “Mr Thorn, is it true that elves don’t need wands or staffs to use magic?” The girl’s accent suggested she was from the north, Gideon guessed her to be from Dunwich.

  “Having never met one I couldn’t say for certain, but our oldest tomes would suggest this to be true. I’m sure Master Sorrento has shared her theory that the elves descended from the ancients, and that the key to understanding true magic lies in their blood.”

  “Yalai!” Abigail’s spell was barely audible over the blast of ice that burst from her wand.

  “Vala!” Gideon’s counterspell caught the ice a metre away from his face. The opposing elements clashed mid-air, cancelling each other out in an explosion of sparks and steam. “Ebori.” Gideon swung his staff around his body until his image vanished from sight. The class broke out in whispers and gasps of awe and shock.

  Abigail held her wand up defensively, and slowly walked around the line of students. “Mr Thorn is demonstrating the ancient word for, hidden. Mages have used it for centuries to hide and conceal their secrets, be it a relic, jewel or even a person. It does however take considerable concentration, causing most mages to draw on their crystals. As their will fades, so does the illusion. However,” Abigail’s eyes scanned the room from side to side, “there is a spell capable of countering Ebori.” She moved her wand from left to right as she said the incantation, “Revasai...”

  The ancient word for reveal made the air ripple momentarily. Gideon’s lunging form emerged from the spacial distortion, his staff angled to strike Abigail in the face. The attack wasn’t rehearsed, but Gideon was confident in Abigail’s abilities to evade and counter. They had spent hundreds of hours sparring together while practising for their exams in their sixth and seventh years at Korkanath. Though staff casters were known for their more aggressive fighting styles, Abigail had studied almost every technique when sparring with a wand. Gideon had the scars to prove it.

  “Alsa!” Her spell blinded Gideon, knocking him off balance.

  Gideon felt a firm hand on his shoulder before a swift knock to the back of his leg put him on his back. Sensing the imminent attack, he flicked his staff up and shouted, “Lavo!” Despite his lack of vision, Gideon heard Abigail fly backwards and skid across the floor. He placed his hand over his eyes and whispered, “Hyal.” The healing spell brought his sight back instantly. Rather than the expected looks of amazement and awe, Gideon was greeted by looks of horror and shock.

  “Clas
s dismissed!” The sharp instruction came from the familiar voice of Master Vorn. The third years hurried from the auditorium, making sure to avoid the master’s eye.

  Gideon was joined by Abigail, as he used his staff to help him stand. Master Vorn held an unyielding glare on them both. It was clear the master had never liked the quick rise of Gideon, from passing his first year exams at the top of his class to teaching the juniors in his tenth and last year.

  “I believe Master Banthora instructed you to continue their meditation techniques,” Master Vorn’s pale complexion was exaggerated under the white glow of the floating orbs, “not endanger them by showing off!” His long green robes concealed the sharpened nails the master was notorious for.

  “Master-”

  “Silence! You are three months away from graduating to the grade of mage. Until then, Mr Thorn, you are under my supervision. Remember, until the Magikar and the high council return, I am in charge of Korkanath. You will lead no more lessons in their absence and you will certainly keep your staff in check outside of the sparring hall. Failure to comply with my wishes will see you on cleaning duties for the next three months, starting with Malliath’s lair.” The thought of such a job gave Gideon shivers. “And you will wear your student robes from now on. You’re not on some grand adventure here.” Master Vorn stood aside and swept his robe dramatically, indicating the end of their conversation.

  With their heads bowed, they both left the auditorium, deflated and a little angry. The third years had already disappeared by the time Gideon and Abigail walked out onto the high walls of Korkanath’s perimeter. On a clear day the thick walls of Dragorn could be seen to the south-east and even the great port city of Velia to the west. Gideon looked out onto a grey horizon with no sun in sight and rain clouds moving in from all sides.

  “He has a point you know...” Abigail pulled the band from her hair and let the copper ringlets flow down to her chest.

  “Not you as well?” Gideon adjusted the strap on his back to make certain the end of his staff didn’t hit him in the head.

  “We both know you’re on track to becoming one of the best mages Korkanath has ever produced. In a few years you could be Vorn’s equal, on your way to being an archmage or even the next Magikar.”

  “Don’t you need wrinkles and a heart condition for that job?” His humour did nothing to deter Abigail.

  “You know what I mean,” she continued. “You should take a little more care when addressing the masters and actually do as you’re told for a change. I know you disagree with the way things are run here, but if you follow the right path you might actually be in a position to change things here for the better.”

  Gideon sighed. “I don’t want to change things here. I want to change things out there!” He looked west, to the shores of Illian. “I want a life outside of these walls. I don’t want to teach or study the old tomes, and I certainly don’t want to be chained to some king or queen as a court wizard. I want to see the world, Abigail!” Gideon jumped onto the wall a little higher than his waist. “I want to see what the whole of Verda has to offer!” he shouted over the roar of the ocean below.

  Abigail laughed at his dramatics. “Perhaps not a court wizard, but I can definitely see you making an excellent career as a court jester!” They both laughed together and Gideon hopped off the wall, his curly dark hair made a mess of in the growing breeze.

  “I just want an adventure...” Gideon leaned against the wall and looked over Korkanath’s grounds.

  The high walls contained a large area filled with towers and glass domes, decorated with herb gardens and statues. Almost every tower had cobwebs of vines growing around the stonework. Beyond the northern wall, Gideon knew there to be a different kind of structure, situated at the base of and dug deep into the ground. The cave was the entrance to Korkanath’s underground network that had long been abandoned after the island’s protector, Malliath the voiceless, had chosen the dark whole as its lair.

  “And where would we start this adventure?” Abigail asked playfully.

  “We?” Gideon looked her in the eyes and regretted it. He had always tried to stop his empathy from getting in the way when it came to Abigail, but upsetting her upset him, and she wanted something he didn’t, at least not yet, not while there were adventures to be had.

  “Yes we!” Abigail punched him in the arm. “We both know you wouldn’t last a day beyond these walls without me.”

  Gideon laughed. “I’m inclined to agree.” He could feel the probing look Abigail gave him. Gideon knew it was one of hope, that maybe this time he would confess his feelings for her after so many years. He changed the subject. “You know it’s a full moon tonight...”

  Abigail’s gaze lingered another moment, before looking away, deflated. “You sound like one of the first years.” The hope and playfulness was gone from her voice.

  “Come on! Everybody knows Malliath hunts on a full moon. Do you remember in our ninth year, when that whale carcass was found on the northern shore? That was after a full moon!”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “That was almost six years ago, Gideon. He wasn’t seen that night and he hasn’t even been heard since. I don’t think he likes to be seen...”

  Gideon could hear the sadness in her voice and knew it wasn’t over him anymore. “It’s never sat well with you, has it?”

  “I think he should have been allowed to die with the rest of his kind, not caged and enslaved for all time.” Abigail sounded almost ashamed.

  “Well he had to expect it.” Gideon tried to defend the choices of his ancestors, even if he didn’t fully agree with it himself. “Malliath started a war with our kind. Even the elves saw the folly in his actions, that’s why they didn’t help and left Illian altogether. Imprisoning Malliath may not have been the right thing to do but, maybe the right thing to do wasn’t what was needed.”

  “The right thing is all we should ever do. And I thought you weren’t paying attention to Master Harl’s history lessons.” The hint of a smile returned to her face.

  “Don’t get me wrong, most of the time I have to enchant my eyes to stay open, but if there’s anything that’s going to keep my attention, it’s talk of dragons!”

  Chapter Eight

  First Kill

  After a whole day of riding with nothing but dry bread and stale water from their stores, the three unlikely companions stopped to make camp for the night. As part of her ongoing test, Nathaniel had Elaith go off in search of food for them to cook over a spit. With her expected life on the road, she would have to spend many a night hunting game for sustenance, while performing her duties as a Graycoat. Theirs was an uncomfortable life, filled with violence and danger that demanded high energy only obtained from a healthy diet.

  “Two squirrels and... is that a hedgehog?” Nathaniel inspected Elaith’s catch with disbelief.

  “I’ve been out there for two hours, Nathaniel! There’s nothing to hunt.” Elaith dropped the animals at his feet and sat by the fire, exhausted.

  Nathaniel picked up the hedgehog by one of its spikes and flung it into a nearby bush. The Graycoat was careful to keep Asher in his peripheral vision at all times. The ranger sat on the other side of the fire, patiently sharpening his broadsword. Without a word, Asher stood up and drove the blade into the ground. With one hand, he removed the strange bow from within his cloak and the old strip of red cloth from his belt with the other.

  “And where are you going?” Nathaniel fought back the urge to stand up and block the ranger’s path. Escorting Asher to Velia was his mission, and even though he was going willingly, it didn’t feel right that the old assassin wasn’t in chains.

  “Don’t worry, Graycoat, the three of us will walk through Velia’s gates tomorrow night.” Asher’s thumb flicked a latch on the bow’s handle, setting off a sequence of miniature cogs. In the blink of an eye the bow snapped and unfolded to reveal its curving shape.

  Nathaniel tried not to stare at the incredible intricacy of the weapon a
nd its mechanical engineering - the design was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It had to be a dwarven mind behind its creation, or possibly elven, though doubtful with their long term absence from Illian.

  Asher left his sword in the ground and disappeared into the dark, beyond the fire light.

  “He doesn’t speak much, does he?” Elaith rolled out her blanket onto the hard ground.

  “We need more firewood...” Nathaniel’s comment came out as an order.

  Elaith dropped her head but kept her murderous gaze to herself.

  In less than an hour, Asher had returned with a small deer slung across his back. In the fierce orange glow of the fire, the ranger had been the perfect picture of an Outlander to Nathaniel. The lines around his eyes, combined with his fang tattoo, had given Asher a grim façade.

  Elaith continued to struggle with the dying fire, throwing twigs into the darkness, while Asher waited with the newly skinned carcass.

  “This stupid storm has made everything wet!” The young Graycoat poked at the sky with a wet branch.

  “Hold this.” Asher handed her the deer, before fixing the spit the way he liked it. The ranger fixed his eyes on the dying fire and casually waved his hand over the top. The flames burst to life, encompassing the spit.

  Nathaniel shot forward on his log. “How did you do that?” He was sure Asher wasn’t concealing any wand. Even Elaith, a novice in the ways of magic was looking at him in amazement.

  Asher continued to prepare the deer without offering any explanation, leaving the Graycoats to ponder the increasing mystery of the ranger.

  Not long after the deer was ready, Elaith fell asleep on her roll and Nathaniel didn’t have the energy to wake her up and discipline the young woman. They should have discussed sleeping in shifts while in Asher’s company, now Nathaniel would have to stay up and wait for him to fall asleep. There was an awkward silence between the two men, the crickets and the crackling of the fire, the only sound.