The Ranger (Book 1)

by E. A. Whitehead

  “Yes sir,” Trent was smiling mischievously.

  “Weston,” Silva went on, “teach him the secrets of stealth and tracking; two hours a day.” Weston nodded but said nothing.

  “I will take him for four hours every morning to perfect his token,” Silva finished, standing up. “I’ll show Vincent to his quarters.” He motioned for Vincent to follow and started to leave, but stopped abruptly just as Vincent had gotten to his feet.

  “I almost forgot,” Silva said, turning back to the seated Rangers, “He’ll need some training in simple agility and acrobatics.” The group nodded in agreement. “Lauren, I think you’ll be best for the job. One hour a day.”

  “What?” She said, outraged. “I don’t have time to baby-sit.”

  “You will teach him agility and acrobatics,” Silva said firmly. “And work on his Giocapugni skills while you’re at it; he’s out of practice.”

  Lauren cowered once again under his gaze.

  “Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

  Silva nodded, more to himself than anyone else, before turning once again to leave. They walked quickly as Silva led Vincent through the lines of cabins. At the very end of the middle row, they stopped. Silva opened the door of one of the cabins and ushered Vincent in. It was simple: a main room filled half the cabin with two small bedrooms coming off of it. A round table sat in the middle of the main room with two chairs around it, and a small mirror hung on the wall between the two side rooms.

  “This cabin will be your home from now on,” Silva said as Vincent looked around. “Normally a team shares a cabin, but as you are not currently assigned to a team you have this one all to yourself.”

  Vincent walked into the room on the left without saying a word. The room was small, hardly big enough for the bed and chest that filled most of it. In the corner there was a small armour rack. The window overlooked the large, empty, field.

  “That’s the training field,” Silva said, moving to look out the window with Vincent. “That’s where you’ll meet me every morning an hour after sunrise.” Vincent nodded and dropped his travel pack on the bed.

  “There are, however, some things we need to discuss before we start training tomorrow,” Master Silva’s voice was serious again. “Have a seat Vincent,” he said, indicating the round table in the main room. “This could take a while.”

  Chapter 6: The Pallàdrim’s Tale

  Vincent sat at the table across from Master Silva. Master Silva’s face was unreadable.

  “Vincent,” he said after a moment’s pause, “I don’t really know where to begin, but I need to make one thing painfully clear: from this point on, you must not, under any circumstance, let anyone who is not a Ranger know that you wield the Token of Fire.”

  “Why?” Vincent asked, confused.

  “This is going to be very difficult for you to understand, but try,” Silva said before explaining. “When the Eresian Empire conquered Pallà, the old kingdom, they allowed us to maintain our worship of Sandora, on the condition that we never again trained anyone in the use of the Fire Token.”

  “I still don’t understand. Why wouldn’t they want people knowing how to use the Fire Token?” Vincent was still very confused and Silva’s explanation wasn’t helping.

  “I’m getting there,” Silva said calmly. “During the war, the vast majority of the Pallàdian Army consisted of knights from the abbeys. In those days there were hundreds of abbeys and thousands of knights; but the captains of Pallà’s Army were exclusively Pallàdrim.”

  “I’ve heard all about this already,” Vincent said. “They taught us the history of the Empire at the Academy.”

  “You’ve heard what the Empire wants you to hear,” Silva said with a smile. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were taught that the Pallàdrim all went mad and led the armies of the Kingdom against the Empire which had no choice but to defend itself, resulting in the fall of the royal family.” Vincent nodded, so Silva continued. “They also told you that the Pallàdrim were all destroyed in that last battle, didn’t they?” Again, Vincent nodded his agreement.

  “The Pallàdrim were not completely destroyed, Vincent.” Silva said. “Believe me, I know. I was there. I saw it.” Silva’s red eyes seemed to bore into Vincent’s soul as he spoke.

  “No,” Vincent said shaking his head as he stood up. “No, no, no. This is some kind of joke, isn’t it? Some trick you play on the new guy. I mean, for you to have fought in that war, you would have to be four hundred years old.”

  “I’m four hundred and fifty six, actually.” Silva said calmly. “That’s another secret of the Pallàdrim: we are not touched by age; but please, have a seat, there is much more to tell.”

  Vincent sat back down, still disbelieving.

  “The primary criterion to become a Pallàdrim was the Token of Fire. That is why the training of fire users was outlawed. You were probably unaware, but the Empire has been monitoring your training to ensure that we weren’t trying to resurrect the Pallàdrim. If we did even one thing they didn’t approve of, the Eresians would have rained down on us in their wrath and destroyed the Order entirely. That is why we had the special placement this year, so we could whisk you away from the prying eyes of the Empire.”

  “But like you said, the Empire already knows about me. The event didn’t change anything,” Vincent said in protest.

  “I realize this,” Silva said, still completely calm. “So we took necessary steps to ensure that the Eresians would lose interest in you entirely.” Vincent looked at him quizzically so he went on. “We experienced an incredible stroke of luck earlier today when Frost attacked,” Silva explained. “You were long gone when the knights from the abbey arrived to come to our aid. All they found was the torn tunic with some of your blood on it. When the Rangers arrived, they told them that they had not seen you, and that you were believed dead. They then sent word to the abbey, telling them that you had perished in the attack. Everyone who knew that you had the Token of Fire now believes that you are dead.”

  “What are you saying?” Vincent asked, becoming upset. “I can’t see any of my friends again?”

  “It is regrettable, but necessary.” Silva continued. “Now we will be able to train your token without fear of interruption. You have been chosen Vincent, you have been marked. Sandora selected you, and it will be you who resurrects the Pallàdrim and restores the Kingdom of Pallà to its former glory.”

  “Then you are trying to resurrect the Pallàdrim,” Vincent said, stunned. “Not that I have any love for the Empire, I mean, the Pallà Province has been neglected for centuries. If it weren’t for the Rangers, there would be nothing left here. But still, to wage war against the Eresians would be suicide.”

  “A week ago, I would have agreed with you,” Silva smiled.

  “What has changed since then?”

  “You,” Silva replied. “You have been marked by the Goddess; you are her champion, the Chosen One. You are destined to lead the armies of Pallà against the Empire.”

  Vincent shook his head. “No,” his mind was reeling and he felt like the wind had been knocked from him. “No, I’m no leader. There’s been a mistake. You’ve got the wrong person. There’s no way I could do something like that.”

  “There’s no mistake, Vincent,” a familiar voice came from the door. Vincent turned to see Master Auna standing in the open entry. “You have been chosen.” Auna moved next to the table as he talked, pacing. “It wasn’t chance that your home was attacked when you were a child, or that you were found and brought to the abbey. The Magi knew of your birth and came to destroy you before you became a threat to them. The Rangers made sure you survived that attack.”

  “But Master Auna, why didn’t you tell me before?” Vincent asked, feeling betrayed. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

  “We kept it a secret because, until last night, we didn’t know for certain. It wasn’t until Mayberry, the Chief Captain of Sandora’s Army, appeared and marked you that we knew,” Auna answe
red.

  “I need to think about this,” Vincent said, standing up abruptly. It was all just too much for him to believe.

  “Take as much time as you need,” Silva said with a smile, “But please try to be quick. There is still much more we need to tell you.”

  Vincent nodded and started to leave.

  “Oh, one more thing,” Silva added, “I would advise against leaving the walls, it’s getting dark.”

  Vincent left the cabin. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows. He walked slowly around the walled encampment, thinking about what he had been told; oblivious to everything else. Despite his misgivings, it all made strange sense to him, as though he had known it all along.

  A cool breeze hit Vincent’s face, the first breeze he had felt since he had entered the camp. He looked around and realized that he had arrived at the gate through which he had entered the encampment earlier that day. He paused a moment, considering the possibility of just running away. After a moment’s reflection, he decided against the idea. Whether or not he accepted Silva’s story, he still intended on continuing as a Ranger.

  Vincent started to walk again, away from the gate. He had not taken three steps when a faint scream ripped through the air. Vincent turned; it had come from outside the wall.

  He looked around, hoping to see another Ranger close by that he could send to investigate, not wanting to disobey Silva’s warning. There was not another soul anywhere in sight. Vincent hesitated in front of the gate, unsure of what to do.

  The scream cut the silence again; it was high pitched, a woman’s voice. Vincent threw caution to the wind, drew his swords and rushed through the gate in the direction of the scream. He crashed blindly through the brush, occasionally hearing the scream again and adjusting his path to follow it.

  The forest ended suddenly, giving way to the road. Vincent had no idea where he was. He looked around cautiously. His eyes quickly fell on the form of a woman, collapsed in the road. He quickly rushed over to the motionless form. There was something strange about the body on the ground. The feeling continued to grow as Vincent got closer.

  Vincent knelt next to the body and carefully rolled it over. To his horror, he found that it was not a woman, but a dummy dressed in woman’s clothing. He dropped the dummy as the blood chilling blast of a horn cut the air as it had that morning. It was very close now.

  He had just scrambled to his feet when a giant creature burst from the forest on the other side of the road. It had the body of a horse with the torso of a man: a centaur. It was completely black with long dread locks. A long white horn hung across his chest and a silver bracer adorned his left arm.

  “At last I’ve found you, Hope of Sandora,” he spat with distain. “Jason thought he could hide you from me, but he forgot that Frost never loses his prey.” His voice was deep and dark.

  “What do you want from me?” Vincent asked, mustering his courage.

  “Me? I want nothing from you,” Frost replied. “It’s my master who wants you; dead that is.” He laughed a deep cruel laugh. “Any last words before I plunge you into the abyss to meet the Dark Lady?”

  Vincent tightened his grip on his sword, taking a defensive stance.

  “Good,” growled his foe. “I can have some fun after all.” Frost reared with a yell and charged at Vincent, who barely managed to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled.

  Vincent embraced his token and felt the welcome warmth fill him. He was unable to do anything else as Frost charged again.

  Vincent stepped aside once again, but this time he brought his blade up and slashed at his advancing foe. His sword was met with Frost’s mace and was knocked out of his hand. He didn’t have time to retrieve it as the mace swung again. Vincent held his remaining sword firmly with both hands.

  A barrage of blows followed. Vincent managed to block them all, but each one sent a shock down his arm. A shower of sparks flew from the weapons as they collided. Vincent was becoming desperate. He wouldn’t be able to continue for long as his arms were growing tired under the force of the blows.

  Then it came to him. The sparks. They were the answer he was looking for.

  The next blow came, sending another shower of sparks. Vincent quickly reached out and grabbed them with his token. Immediately his arms were engulfed with flames.

  The sudden eruption of flames startled Frost, and he backed off. Vincent quickly formed a ball of fire and hurled it at Frost. The ball hit him in the stomach and he winced. However, he quickly recovered, glaring at Vincent with hatred.

  “You’ll pay dearly for that,” Frost growled.

  Vincent started preparing another ball, but before he could let it fly, an arrow whizzed past his ear and buried itself in the flank of the charging centaur. Frost cursed in pain as his leg gave out and he toppled to the ground.

  “This isn’t over yet, boy,” He shouted as he staggered to his feet and galloped into the forest, limping noticeably.

  Vincent turned to find Lauren standing behind him, bow still in hand. A very angry scowl adorned her dusty face.

  “Thank you,” Vincent started to say with a smile, but he had hardly got the first word out before Lauren slapped him hard across the face.

  “What was that for?” Vincent started to ask, but was cut off again.

  “Jason told you not to leave the camp, but you left anyway,” she scolded. “You could have been seriously injured, or worse. You’re still far too inexperienced to fight alone.”

  “But,” Vincent tried to cut in, but his face was once again met by Lauren’s hand, resulting in a resounding slap. “And that one?” Vincent was losing his patience.

  “That’s for using your token. Jason also told you what would happen if the Eresians found out that you were still alive. Never use your token in public!” Lauren was shouting now. “If anyone had seen you, it could have meant the destruction of the entire Order.” Lauren paused, becoming quieter, but still just as angry. “So help me, if you do anything to endanger the people of Pallà, death would be favorable over what I would do to you.” Lauren stalked off into the forest. Vincent followed.

  They walked in silence. The sun was now hanging over the horizon, and the light was getting dim. After walking for what could have been the rest of eternity as far as Vincent was concerned, they arrived at the small gate. Lauren walked through without looking at Vincent.

  He followed quickly through the opening and nearly ran into Master Silva, who was standing on the other side.

  “Done thinking?” Silva asked; he was smiling.

  “Yes,” Vincent replied glumly, still upset by the scolding he had received from Lauren.

  “Excellent!” Silva said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s continue our discussion.” Silva started off in the direction of Vincent’s cabin with Vincent in toe.

  Auna had found another chair and was sitting, happily flying little fiery birds around the candle on the table. Vincent and Silva sat in the two vacant chairs.

  “Did you enjoy your walk?” Auna asked without looking away from his birds.

  “What was that thing out there?” Vincent asked, ignoring Auna’s question.

  “Ah, did you meet Frost?” Auna asked as the birds perched one by one on top of the candle and disappeared. “Perhaps you’d better answer this one Jason.”

  “Frost is the hunter sent out by the Magi,” Silva explained. “His sole purpose is to hunt and destroy the Pallàdrim. You’re fortunate that he underestimated you. Had he come with his pack of lupis, it could have turned out differently.”

  “But who are the Magi?” Vincent asked, still confused. “They talked about them in the history lessons, but they never explained who or what they were.”

  “That brings us back to our earlier discussion,” Silva smiled. “But first, I’ll need to tell you a bit more about the Pallàdrim.” Silva paused. “Perhaps it would be easier to show you.”

  Vincent was intrigued, what could they possibly have to show him?

 
; “Those who share the Token of Fire have a unique connection, Vincent.” Auna explained with a smile. “Not only can we sense the presence of another fire user, but we can share memories and thoughts directly, as if they were your own.”

  “How does that work?” Vincent asked.

  “Just relax,” Silva said, placing a hand on Vincent’s forehead, “you will soon understand everything.”

  The world suddenly warped around Vincent. He felt as though he was falling, pulled by the hand on his forehead. Then his feet hit a stone floor. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

  To his surprise, he was standing on top of a massive tower, overlooking a city. More surprisingly, he was alone. He looked out over the city. It was gorgeous and seemed to stretch on forever. Golden banners flew from every tower.

  “This is the City of Gesta, as I remember it,” Silva’s voice echoed inside his head, “before the war.” Vincent gazed in wonder. Could this really be Gesta over four hundred years ago? The scene shifted again. The feeling was unsettling. Vincent now stood at the base of a different tower. It was square, made of polished obsidian with pillars of fire climbing the four corners, meeting at the top to create a giant ball.

  “The Pallàdrim long defended the kingdom. One thousand years ago we, that is the Pallàdrim at the time, built five great towers on the border of Pallà and the Eresian Empire as a line of defense. There was a tower devoted to each of the elemental tokens of Sandora. Only a possessor of the tower’s token could open its door.

  “The Tower of Fire was built as the chief tower, with Water and Earth next to it, and Lightning and Shadow on either end. Those towers kept the kingdom safe for over five hundred years. Keep in mind Vincent: the towers were built only to defend. They were not meant to be used for aggression. It is against the teachings of Sandora to wage war for greed or power. We wished only for the safety of our families. But the Eresians for the most part didn’t follow those teachings and wished only for total control of this world. So, they tried repeatedly to advance into our territory, but never managed to cross the mountains.”