“Sorry,” Vincent replied, “Master Auna wanted to talk for a minute.”
“Of course,” Thomas said dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “how silly of me, I should have known that Master Auna would have wanted to talk to his favorite student.”
“Let’s just get going,” Vincent sighed. “We don’t have all day.”
“Alright,” Thomas called to the gathered children, “We’re going to go now.” The children cheered excitedly. “We all need to stay together, does everyone have a buddy?”
“Yes!” The children shouted, holding up the hands of their buddies. The younger children were all paired off with one of the older ones.
“Good, now remember,” Thomas continued, his face hard as stone, “don’t wander into the woods, they’re full of gnolls that would love to eat a wayward child.”
The younger children all huddled closer to their buddy while the older children laughed.
Vincent gave Thomas a shove, “Wolf-men?” He said incredulously. “Don’t scare the kids with foolish wives tales.”
“They’re not wives tales,” Thomas said defensively, “I grew up on the other side of the mountains where the Rangers don’t patrol. I’ve seen gnolls; and they’re not wolf-men, they’re wolves that stand on two legs and carry weapons. Werewolves are the wolf-men; they are much worse.”
“Have it your way,” Vincent said, rolling his eyes, “let’s get going.”
“Right,” Thomas called again, “follow me, double file. Vincent, you take the back.”
They walked back around to the front of the abbey where the large gates stood wide open. They marched past the guards and turned left. The road was full of travelers, mostly merchants from the Empire en route to Gesta, the capital of the Pallà Province of the Eresian Empire. Four hundred years had passed since the Kingdom of Pallà had fallen to the Empire, but the old capital still stood in all its former glory as the economic centre of the Province.
They had hardly left the abbey when a small voice cried from behind them, “wait for me!” Vincent turned to see Jace, a little five year old from the abbey, running behind them, tears streaming down his pudgy face. “I wanna come too.”
Vincent paused and waited for the child to catch up. He put the child in line in front of him and they carried on. The day was becoming steadily hotter as the sun climbed higher in the sky, but the forest lining the road gave welcome shade. The other travelers on the road generally ignored the band of children as they made their way along.
It was a long walk to the river, made longer by the slow pace they had to maintain for the children. A shallow ford allowed travelers to pass without difficulty.
When they arrived at the river, they moved a little upstream along the bank, away from the road, to the little sandy beach where the children could play freely.
“Alright,” Thomas said once they had all gathered, “have fun.”
The children stripped down and ran into the water, splashing and playing happily, glad for the relief from the hot day. Vincent and Thomas moved a little way from the water, took off their breast plates and stretched a little. Vincent was sweating heavily under his armour. They both sat in a patch of shade where they could see the children.
“I never thought when my parents told me they were sending me to become a Knight of Sandora that I would be babysitting children while they play,” Thomas sighed in frustration. “There are so many more important things we could be doing.”
“Give the children a break,” Vincent said. “They’ve had a rough time. It’s not easy to be an orphan. Sure, it is better for them in the abbey than anywhere else, but it’s a hard life.”
“I don’t get why you’re so protective of these children, Vincent. It doesn’t seem so hard,” Thomas replied flippantly, “all they do is play all day. When they’re hungry, they’re fed. What’s so tough about that?”
“You could never understand, Thomas. You had parents your whole life, you don’t know what it’s like to lose everything,” Vincent said. It was the first time he and Thomas had truly discussed Vincent’s past. They had always been good friends, the best even, but their personal lives beyond the academy had never seemed appropriate for discussion.
“I was one of them, Thomas. I know what it’s like. I have no memory of my parents. I would give anything to be able to remember them, even if it was just a glimpse of their faces. Many of these children are the same. It’s even worse for those who still remember. You’ve never heard their cries at night,” Vincent’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Calls for parents that will never answer; tears that no one can dry. That’s why I care so much about them. I would gladly die to keep them from suffering any more than they already have.”
“Why don’t you try to become a Ranger?” Thomas asked suddenly. “Then you would really be able to make a difference.”
“That is my goal,” Vincent admitted, “but you’ll likely be chosen before I will.”
“It’s true,” Thomas smiled, “no one is more qualified than I am. My brothers will look foolish with their Imperial uniforms once I become a Ranger. But look at it this way, once I’m in, I can put in a good word for you.”
“We can do it together,” Vincent said feeling reassured. “We’ll both be Rangers one day; the most powerful Rangers that there ever were.”
“Are you ready for tonight?” Thomas asked as he stood up and drew his sword, flourishing it a few times.
“I hope so,” Vincent replied, standing up in turn. “I really don’t want to get stuck with a boring placement. That would make it more difficult to get noticed by the Rangers, but I’ll probably get one of them anyway. I’m bound to mess something up.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about” Thomas laughed, “you’re Master Auna’s favorite, remember? I bet you get the position here at the Grand Abbey.”
“We’ll see about that one,” Vincent gave a forced laugh.
“Master Auna never did seem to like me. I’m probably going to get something super boring,” Thomas went on, “like Spacco, or Vangelico. I’ll really have to work hard to get noticed in one of those places.”
“Vangelico is one thing, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and nothing ever happens there; but what about Spacco? It’s a thriving city with a huge abbey,” Vincent asked.
“There’s an Imperial Garrison there,” Thomas explained. “The knights there never do anything; it’s all done by the Imperial Guards. They have all the fun.” He muttered bitterly.
“Well then let’s practice a bit so that we’re sure to get the good placements,” Vincent said as he drew his sword.
“Alright,” Thomas said, taking his offensive stance. “Let’s take it from the top.”
The tournament was different every year. They tested four skills that were learned in the academy. Vincent and Thomas squared off to practice the sword forms. The sword was Vincent’s preferred weapon, while Thomas preferred a broad axe. Thomas charged swinging his sword in the opening move of the form they were practicing. Vincent met the swinging blade with his own, in the mirror image of Thomas’ form. They moved gracefully from motion to motion; their blades dancing with perfect precision. Vincent felt calm, and the forms flowed perfectly. They were quickly lost in the movement of their blades.
“Help!” The cry from the river froze Vincent’s blood and he dropped his blade as he turned to see what had happened.
To his horror, little Jace had wandered too far out into the water and had been caught by the current; he was quickly being carried downriver. Jace was flailing frantically and could barely manage to keep his head above the water.
Vincent ran to the water’s edge, following him downstream, trying to get ahead of him. The current whipped him past the ford. Suddenly Jace dropped from sight, beneath the water.
Vincent drew a knife from his belt and dove into the fast moving water. It was deathly cold; but he swam on, fighting the strong current. He gasped for air before plunging beneath the surface. Th
ere was no sign of the boy. He dove deeper, moving further downstream; still nothing.
He resurfaced for air before diving again. Deeper still he plunged. The river was starting to get wider and deeper. His time was running out; then he saw him. Jace’s leg was caught in some weeds at the bottom of the far side of the river. His body floated limply as the current continued to tug at him.
Vincent moved quickly, diving down to where the little body floated. A strange tingling sensation came over Vincent as he approached the boy, but it passed quickly.
He cut the weeds and grabbed Jace before swimming for the surface. His breath was running out. His lungs burned from the want of air. He couldn’t go any further; he opened his mouth and breathed in, just as he broke the surface. He pulled the limp body back toward the shore on the abbey’s side of the river. The strange tingling sensation came over him again, and it again passed quickly.
As soon as Vincent reached the shore he laid Jace on the ground. The boy wasn’t breathing. Vincent desperately started pounding on Jace’s chest, trying to force the water from his lungs. The boy’s face was a deep blue.
Jace finally coughed, spitting up a lot of water, and breathed in. Vincent sighed with relief. Thomas and the other children were running down the river bank to catch up. Jace slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Vincent.
“I’m cold,” he whispered.
Vincent pulled the child close to him, trying to warm him up as he sighed in relief. He looked around, trying to figure out how far down river they had drifted. They weren’t too far from the ford.
“Is he alright?” Thomas asked as he ran up.
“Yeah,” Vincent panted, “but we should get him back to the abbey.”
Thomas handed Vincent his breastplate and sword, which he quickly buckled back on before picking up Jace.
“That’s it for today,” Thomas announced to the children, “we’re going back to the abbey now.”
The children didn’t complain as they made their way back to the road; Vincent carried Jace, who was now sleeping soundly, holding tight to Vincent. The sun was starting to drop and the travelers were starting to thin out as the group of children walked in silence back to the abbey.
Eliza, the priestess responsible for the orphanage, was waiting near the gate when they returned.
“Did everyone have a good time?” She asked with a smile. None of the children answered. She noticed Jace in Vincent’s arms, still soaking wet, and rushed over. “What happened?”
“He got swept down river,” Vincent answered. “He’s breathing but he needs healing.”
“Vincent saved him,” one of the children piped in.
“Yeah, he jumped in and pulled him out,” another one said.
“Thank you Vincent,” Eliza replied, taking the child. “We’ll make sure that he is properly cared for.” The priestess shepherded the group of children toward the abbey.
“Thomas, I’m going to get out of these wet clothes. You better go get something to eat. I’ll meet up with you later,” Vincent called to Thomas as he walked through the large central doors of the abbey that lead to the Entry Hall, as Thomas made his way to the smaller doors to the left that lead to the Great Hall.
Chapter 2: The Tournament
The Entry Hall of the abbey was enormous, rising the full three stories of the building. The floor was expertly polished white granite. Vincent felt bad for all the water he was dripping on the clean surface. He hurried through to the reception chamber as quickly as he could.
The reception chamber stood in stark contrast to the Entry Hall. The polished granite floor was the only similarity. The walls in the Entry Hall were bare stone, while the reception chamber had carved wood paneling with elegant tapestries adorning almost every surface: gifts from visiting nobles seeking to gain favour in the eyes of the Goddess. The ceiling of the Entry Hall was high and vaulting, but the ceilings in the reception chamber were low to maintain the heat from the large fireplaces in the winter. Elegant padded chairs were dispersed around the room; however, they were vacant at the moment as the nobles sat in the Great Hall for dinner.
Vincent hurried through the room. Its elegance was lost to him as he was consumed with thoughts of the events of the evening. He exited through a small door that led into the cloister in the middle of abbey. The walls of the abbey buildings towered above the small courtyard with the sanctuary on one side and the Great Hall on the other. The walls were very much like the exterior walls, plain and unadorned except for the ivy which was slowly climbing them. Many finely crafted stained-glass windows covered the walls of the sanctuary to Vincent’s right. The ground was covered with beautiful gardens of flowers of every color. A large multi-level fountain sat in the center, shooting water high into the air, a small pool of water surrounding it.
The back wall of the cloister was dominated by an alcove that led to the Great Dome, where the sacred relics of the abbey were kept. Two knights stood guard at the entrance. Vincent waved to them as he approached, but he stopped just short of them in the alcove and opened a door on the side wall revealing a stairwell that plunged into the depths below the abbey; the entrance to the dormitories of the knights in the abbey.
There were no windows in the lower levels of the abbey, and no natural light entered. Glass orbs, enchanted by the grace and blessing of Sandora and set in alcoves, provided light to the labyrinth of corridors beneath the abbey.
Vincent navigated his way unconsciously, following the same path he had followed for the past five years. It had taken him months to learn his way through the confusing tunnels. Every wall looked alike. Now the path to his room was second nature.
He opened the door to his room. It was simple, with two beds, desks and wardrobes, mirroring each other across the room. A small hour glass sat on a table between the two beds, indicating the time of day; another gift of the Goddess. A large mirror hung on the back of the door.
Vincent closed the door and started removing his ceremonial outfit. He placed his breastplate gently on his bed before pulling off his wet blue shirt. He put on a plain white undershirt. He opened his wardrobe. In the bottom there was a chest in which he stored his armour. He opened the chest and tenderly removed his chainmail shirt. He was just pulling it over his head when Thomas burst through the door. He tossed Vincent a loaf of bread and a chunk of dried meat. “You’ll need your energy if you want to do well tonight.”
“Thanks,” Vincent said, tearing into bread. “I need all the help I can get.”
“You need more ambition,” Thomas teased as he pulled off his shirt. “You have what it takes to be a great knight, you just lack the confidence.”
“Easy for you to say,” Vincent muttered. “Everything comes easy for you. I’ve had to work to get where I am.”
“Well maybe that work will pay off,” Thomas gave a sly smile. Vincent looked at him quizzically. “The Lord Abbot said that there’s a special assignment this year and they need the very best knight for it. The winner of the tournament is the likely candidate.”
“I wonder what kind of placement it is,” Vincent said pensively, a sudden sense of foreboding coming over him. He quickly shook it off. Thomas was going to win the tournament so there was no need for him to worry about it. He pulled a blue tunic out of the wardrobe and pulled it over his mail. The shirt that accompanied his ceremonial outfit, with its billowing sleeves, was not fit for combat. The tunic was much closer fitting and allowed for greater ease in wielding a sword. It too bore the hand of Sandora on its front.
“Whatever it is, I bet you get it,” Thomas grumbled. “You’re the favorite.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you got it,” Vincent shot back, surprised at Thomas’s sudden lack of confidence. “You’ve always been better than me with weaponry.”
“Except for giocapugni and the bow,” Thomas cut in. “You’re just as good as anyone when it comes to giocapugni, and if they do archery I’m sunk.”
Giocapugni was an ancient form of unarmed com
bat that the academy had adapted for the use of weapons. It was a traditional form of combat in Pallà, and most children grew up practicing it, even the children at the abbey orphanage were taught the fundamental. Thomas, who had grown up outside of Pallà, did not have this background when he came to the academy. He had had a much harder time learning the skills.
“Well, then pray they don’t have either,” Vincent laughed as he tied on his two swords.
In ceremonial attire all knights were required to carry a sword and shield. However, combat attire allowed knights to carry their weapon of choice. Vincent preferred to carry twin short swords, whereas Thomas wielded a broad, double headed axe.
“You ready?” Thomas asked, tying his long red hair behind his head.
“I was born ready,” Vincent laughed, failing in his attempt to sound confident. “Let’s get moving,” Vincent added looking at the hourglass, “it’s nearly sunset. We don’t want to be late.”
They walked silently through the abbey on their way to the training field, where the event would be held, and exited through the main abbey doors. They turned right, following the same path Vincent had followed that morning. It took them around the side of the abbey to the small gate on the back wall.
The abbey grounds were surrounded by thick forest, but at the back of the abbey, just outside the walls, a large clearing had been formed. It was there that the knights of the academy trained.
The field itself was well kept, with very little to indicate its purpose. A small shed built against the wall housed the stairs to the academy’s hall.
The sun had almost dipped below the western mountains as they walked through the small gate leading to the training field. The sight that met them this time was significantly different than what they were used to. The perimeter of the field was lined with benches; rows and rows of benches. On the front row, right in the middle, there were six large throne-like chairs. Torches marked the edge of the field. Many of the benches were already full: people had traveled from the five other abbeys to see this event.
The Ranger (Book 1) Page 2
