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

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Galanör shoved Adamar aside as he strode onto the island, not bothering to hide his despair at the elf. “First we need to find cover, or we’ll never even breach the walls.”

  The group ran over the uneven terrain, easily avoiding the sharp rocks with their natural elven agility. Galanör led them round the curving wall, desperate to find a cave under the giant school. His keen ears picked up the distinct sound of giant wings over the wind and rain. The others stopped with him to look at the sky - the warrior in him wanted to see death when it came for him. A black shadow seemed to glide through the thick grey clouds above, but only for a second before it was gone again. They were being hunted by the oldest predator in Verda.

  They had made a terrible mistake.

  The banquet hall was lined with servants, ready and eager to attend to the various royals’ every need. Reyna was greeted at the door by King Rengar, who took the utmost pleasure in introducing the elves to the great audience. Tables, covered with every kind of food, lined the walls between the servants, with smaller tables dotted around for discarded drinks and plates. Reyna felt everyone’s eyes on her at all times, as the king of Velia escorted her round the hall to meet the individual rulers of Illian.

  The princess could feel Mörygan behind her, desperate to take over from the king and steer them towards the mages of Korkanath. The group of wizards was easy to spot amidst the well-dressed royal parties. Against the backdrop of the pale grey sky, beyond the wall-length, open balcony, the mages congregated in their billowing robes and hoods, each sporting a substantial beard.

  “May I introduce Queen Isabella of house Harg, and ruler of Felgarn...” King Rengar extended his hand out to a woman in a sweeping green dress and silver crown, reminiscent of a stag’s horns.

  Reyna wasn’t used to judging human ages yet, but the queen’s face appeared slightly older than that of any elf. The princess guessed her to be around forty years old, but she dared not ask; Faylen would have her head.

  The queen bowed her head. “An honour to meet you, Princess Reyna. You should visit my home in Lirian soon; I think you would find the forest quite familiar to your home in Ayda.”

  “Thank you Queen Isabella.” Reyna bowed in return. “My parents lived in The Evermoore as children and speak fondly of that time,” she lied. Though her parents had lived in The Evermoore for a time, they had never spoken highly of it - or at least her father hadn’t - always dwelling on the humans’ emergence and how they ruined everything.

  The queen became very excited. “Well your parents are always welcome in the heart of Illian, Princess. I should love to host you all, of course.” A young freckled boy, yet to see ten winters, appeared by her side. “This is my son, Timothy. He was very keen to meet the fabled elves he read about growing up.”

  There’s nothing in your books about what we are, Reyna thought. The young child was ushered forward until he bowed and became red in the face, preferring the folds of his mother’s dress.

  King Rengar gestured to the tall man, slowly approaching from behind Queen Isabella. “Ah, Lord Tion...”

  As the king was getting ready to introduce the next rulers of the land, Reyna caught sight of Mörygan’s sideways glance, indicating their need to meet with the mages. The princess nodded subtly, before settling on Nathaniel on the far side of the room. The Graycoat’s chiselled appearance looked bemused at whatever Darius Devale was talking to him about.

  “Princess Reyna,” King Rengar’s introduction was cut short, when the tall human waved off the king of Velia and reached for the elf’s hand, kissing it lightly, “I am Lord Merkaris of house Tion, ruler of all the North.”

  The gold crown over his shoulder-length blond hair came to a point, with the head of a lion. Merkaris’s elegant clothes did nothing to hide his strong physique - he was no lazy king.

  “The north...” Reyna made chit-chat, unsure of why she felt uncomfortable in his presence. “You speak of Orith, the northern region under Vengora, the slumbering mountains. You share a border with Dhenaheim, no?”

  “Yes, my lady.” Merkaris maintained his intense gaze. “Though, we have more trouble with the Gobbers that reside within Vengora, than we do the dwarves. Not to say that our lands aren't safe. Our people have grown strong making the land safe. The elves are always welcome in my home, Namdhor, to see for themselves.” He smiled with his perfect teeth and square jaw.”

  “I would enjoy a tour of the north,” Reyna lied again. The princess had a feeling she would be lying a lot from now on. "The house of Tion? Your ancestor was Gal Tion, the first human king of Illian?"

  Merkaris smiled, as if he had a fish on a hook. "Indeed he was, Princess. My lineage is the oldest in the land. From our home in Namdhor, the King ruled from the mountains of Vengora to the Emerald Wilds in The Arid Lands."

  A man cleared his throat from somewhere behind the gathered group. Merkaris raised his eyebrow, unimpressed with the interruption. When they finally stepped aside, the princess was surprised to be greeted by the sight of a small boy, with olive skin and a completely bald head, covered in tattoos of thick, black patterns the elf didn’t recognise. The child wore very little by human standards, adorned with more jewellery than fabric. His nose, eyebrows, ears and lips were all pierced and connected by golden chains. Big brown eyes looked up at the princess with passive interest.

  “Princess Reyna...” King Rengar stepped in front of Lord Merkaris. “For the first time in our history, the ruler of Karath has graced Velia with his presence, all to meet you. May I present Emperor Faros the first, of the bloodline Kalvanari and lord of The Arid Lands.”

  Reyna blinked in attempt to hide her confusion. A child ruled everything south of The Narrows? How could anyone bow to the wisdom of a boy? There was a moment of silence that carried on for too long, while Reyna stared at the child-emperor.

  The man standing next to Emperor Faros cleared his throat again. “I am Sivilis, high court mage to Karath and vizier to the Emperor.” Styled much in the same way as his master, Sivilis’s bald head was covered with a tall hat that stood above his magical staff. A long, black cylinder of beard jutted out from the vizier’s chin at an odd angle, adding to his strange appearance. “On behalf of the Emperor, I invite you to spend time exploring the wonders of our extraordinary land to the south. The city of Karath is home to some of the greatest pleasures imaginable...”

  King Rengar sucked in a tight breath. “Yes, lovely I’m sure.” He took Reyna by the shoulder and gently guided her away from the curious emperor and his strange vizier. “Some refreshments for our guests, perhaps?”

  The mages drew closer.

  The large rocks of Korkanath had given way to a stony beach that stretched beyond their vision. The elves kicked up the tiny pebbles in their frantic search for shelter. They had all heard the dragon’s roar between the thunder-claps, and even seen a shadow flit across the beach once or twice. Korkanath’s protector knew that uninvited guests had entered its territory. Now Galanör knew what it meant to be hunted from above.

  “Over there!” Eliön shouted over the wind and pointed at an archway built into the rock.

  With a dragon on his heels, Galanör felt the instinctive urge to pray to the gods, despite his lack of faith. The group ran faster than any human could manage, closing the gap between them and salvation. Galanör reached the door first and ushered his companions through the archway, his elven eyes scanning the skies for the beast that hunted them. The archway gave way to a long corridor that cut through the island rock and stopped somewhere underneath the school. Beyond the stony beach, lay the sunken decking of the small port that harboured the ships that kept Korkanath stocked with supplies.

  "This must lead to the stockrooms in the basement!" Naiveen shouted back, as they approached the wooden door at the other end of the corridor.

  "I don’t care where it leads as long as it's inside!" Even Adamar's bravado failed when faced with a dragon.

  "Stop!" Galanör barked the order, before they could
barge through the door.

  The group came to a sudden stop in the dark tunnel, inches from the door, Ailas's hand poised over the thick metal knob. They turned to regard Galanör as if he were mad, unaware of the dragon that hunted them.

  Thud!

  Somewhere beyond the archway, behind them, Malliath had dropped onto the beach, his massive wings collapsing and blowing a gust of wind through the tunnel. Even with the sound of the heavy rain and the raging gales outside, the elves heard the sharp breath that escaped Malliath's nostrils. As one, they looked from the open archway to Galanör with the same silent question.

  "Think where we are," he instructed. "Assume everything is hexed and magically barred. There will be traps everywhere designed to stop invaders in their tracks."

  Lyra quickly faced the wooden door again and waved her hand over the surface, commanding the magical wards to reveal themselves.

  "It's been warded with a spell designed to collapse the tunnel. I can see the magic that protects it but..." Lyra looked back at them with defeat in her eyes, before looking further down the tunnel, where defeat changed to fear. "We don’t have time for the counterspell."

  The tunnel was cast in complete darkness when Malliath stepped in front of the archway. The narrow corridor was filled with the foul stench of rotting meat and sulphur, as the dragon's mouth encompassed the archway. The elves felt the air around them being sucked back down the tunnel, away from them. Galanör had never seen or heard a dragon in battle before, but he knew that when they drew in a sharp breath, it was never a good thing that followed.

  Reyna could practically feel Mörygan's eyes rolling in his head, when King Rengar steered them away from the mages of Korkanath. The princess maintained her smile and made certain to meet the eyes of everyone that watched her, exhibiting confidence and control. Rengar's family and advisors followed them like sheep around the hall, letting the other rulers know where the strongest alliance with the elven nation would lie.

  King Rengar leant into Reyna, as if they were old friends, and spoke quietly. "I know you wish to meet all the rulers of Illian, Princess Reyna, but I must apologise in advance for the barbarian you are about to meet." Reyna smiled politely, giving nothing away of her displeasure for the arrogant king. With less animation, King Rengar stepped to the side to facilitate the meeting between Reyna and a dishevelled looking man. "Princess Reyna, this is King Gregorn of house Orvish, ruler of the Ice Vales."

  "Princess..." King Gregorn made no advances to take her hand or embrace, as Reyna assumed he would, instead settling for a curt nod of his silver-crowned head.

  Gregorn’s lack of enthusiasm at meeting her only helped to endear the king of the Ice Vales to Reyna.

  His long, scraggy, grey hair and beard were very unkempt for a royal, especially when standing next to the immaculate King Rengar. All of Gregorn's fingers were adorned with rings of every mineral, which did nothing to distract from the king's dirty nails. A floor-length cape of dark brown fur flowed out from the high collar that surrounded his neck, ending with the head of a bear on his shoulder. Reyna knew from her studies on the voyage to Illian that the bear was the animal that decorated the flag of the Ice Vales, much like the wolf for Velia, or the horse for The Arid Lands.

  "I have wished my entire life to speak with one of your race." King Gregorn's voice was as rough as his appearance, though his expression was that of a desperate man. "There are ancient tomes known to only a few, that state the Ice Vales were once as lush and habitable as Felgarn, my neighbouring land..."

  "Not this again, Gregorn." King Rengar tried to silence him with a hand. "Perhaps this is a conversation for later?"

  "I agree." Mörygan nodded his agreement and looked to the mages by the balcony.

  King Gregorn persisted. "Is it true that the land was cursed during the Dark War, Princess? Orith is north of my kingdom and suffers no winter like my people. Perhaps there is a counterspell known to your people?"

  Reyna's mouth opened, but she couldn’t find the right response. It was a well known fact that Valanis had cursed the land around his fortress, Kaliban. The Western Vales, as they had been know to the elves, had frozen over after the Amber spell had trapped the evil elf in Elethiah. It was this curse that caused the avalanches and earthquakes in the mountainous region of Vengora, sealing off Kaliban and the dark secrets Valanis kept there.

  "Ah, Magikar Pondaal..." King Rengar turned his back on Gregorn and directed the group towards the balcony.

  Mörygan was only too happy to walk away from the king of the Ice Vales, his eyes fixed on the mages.

  Reyna promised herself that she would find time later to explain all she knew about the curse over his land, she only regretted that there was no counterspell to free the people of their never-ending winter.

  Not that it matters, she thought...

  As they approached the mages, Reyna dwelled on the fact that they were moments away from performing their part in the great plan. Her next conversation would have ramifications that would go on to affect all of Verda. When her part was done, Galanör would no doubt go on to complete his, and in so doing, start the beginning of a new era that would remove humanity from the map. Reyna looked at Nathaniel once more and felt a cold dread fill her bones.

  "Princess Reyna, may I introduce Magikar Pondaal, head of Korkanath, Illian's premier school of magic." King Rengar placed his hand on the Magikar's shoulder, another display of the king's influence and power in front of his peers.

  Continuing her attempts to guess human ages, Reyna judged the Magikar to be in his sixties, maybe seventies. Standing a little taller than herself, Pondaal was dressed in long purple and gold robes with a chunky golden chain around his neck, adorned with a large ruby. Reyna could sense the magic contained within, stored there by the Magikar. He had a kind face with startling blue eyes and long white hair and matching beard. It was slightly amusing to the princess that this revered human, with less than a century of life, was the master of Illian's magical school. The younger looking Mörygan and Faylen beside her both had more knowledge and experience of magic than Pondaal could imagine.

  "It is a great honour to meet you, Princess." Magikar Pondaal bowed. "To be in the presence of those who first instructed our kind to use magic is truly a dream come true."

  "The honour is all ours, Magikar Pondaal." Reyna knew her lines well. "My companions and I are curious as to how far humans have progressed with your exploration of magic."

  Pondaal lapped up the attention. "Oh, we have made great strides in your absence, Princess, though that's not to say that we don’t have so much more to learn. Perhaps with the new allegiance between our two lands, we can work together to bridge the gap?"

  Here it comes, Reyna thought. "I know of many elves who would be interested in your work at Korkanath, Magikar. My father feels there is a lot we can accomplish together."

  The Magikar couldn’t wait to get his words out. "Well that's wonderful, Princess! All of elven kind is welcome in Korkanath..."

  There it was, the legendary invitation to Korkanath. Reyna missed Pondaal's next speech, instead looking from Mörygan's smug expression to the lashing rain and gathering mist beyond the open balcony. Somewhere out there, Galanör and his team would be reaching Korkanath's shore, preparing to take the first act of aggression against the human race.

  What had she done?

  The elves could do nothing but brace themselves for the inevitable. Galanör could feel the magic building between them, each ready to project a barrier that would hold back the dragon's breath, but even their combined power would never hold out against the might of Malliath. They would be engulfed by fire and their mission brought to an abrupt end, all their efforts for naught.

  In his last moments, Galanör thought of the children he had served up to the Mer-folk, and was surprised to find his deep sadness at sacrificing the younglings. The elf had tried to live his long life without regrets, but found himself wishing he had confronted his father and stood up for hi
mself. He didn’t want to marry Princess Reyna and he wasn’t even that interested in starting a war with the humans, despite his disdain for them. Galanör had been duty-bound for so long, and now at the end of his life, he wished he could have been free, even for a short time.

  He looked down at Lyra in the dark, crouched beside him. Galanör wasn’t surprised to find he felt nothing at the thought of her dying, she had been nothing but a lover to pass the time on Dragorn. The air being sucked out of the tunnel stopped when Malliath had taken his breath - that final moment an eternity in the blink of an eye.

  Galanör didn’t want to die here, like this.

  The moment went on; the only sound their ragged breaths in the darkness. Where was the fire? Galanör could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Was Malliath deliberately prolonging their fate, drawing out their final moments to torment them?

  The meagre light that pierced the storm clouds flooded the tunnel once more, confusing the elves. Malliath's bulk shifted across the beach, his mighty claws digging up the dirt underneath the pebbles. Galanör held his breath, wondering if the dragon had simply decided to attack them a different way. The sound of giant wings flapping in the wind could be heard, moments before an explosive splash resounded further out to sea.

  "They did it..." Eliön gasped in disbelief.

  Galanör had come to the same conclusion. Reyna and the others must have finally met with the mages of Korkanath and had their invitation extended to their entire race. The elves looked at one another in relief, sagging against the walls, while they took a minute to appreciate how lucky they were. That particular part got under Galanör's skin. There was no place for luck on a mission like this, they had to use their skill and magical abilities to achieve success. It had only proved that their current situation stood upon a knife's edge. The elf tried not to dwell on his thoughts during what he had assumed was his last moments on Verda. He would be slave to his duty forever.