The Ranger (Book 1)

by E. A. Whitehead

  The Abbot dropped back to the bed, drained. He was once again the worn out old man. He struggled to keep his drooping eyelids open as he whispered into Master Auna’s ear. His voice was too weak for Vincent to hear, but Auna seemed to be agreeing with what he was saying.

  “Vincent,” Auna said after the Abbot had finished speaking, “We have one more task for you. You already hold two of the sacred relics of the Order. We would entrust you with one more.”

  Abbot Markov started struggling to remove a long golden chain from around his neck. Auna quickly intervened, gingerly lifting the chain from the weak old man’s shoulders. The chain held a simple golden pendent in the shape of a cupped hand. There was nothing outwardly unusual about this trinket, but Vincent recognized it for what it was. He had seen the pendent before, he had even worn it. He had no idea how it worked, but it somehow enabled the wearer to receive their token from the Goddess.

  “As you know,” Auna continued, “this is a very sacred relic. There are only two still in existence. The other was recently captured by the Magi just before the destruction of the Earth Tower. To our knowledge, they have not discovered the workings of it yet, which is fortunate. The use of the pendant has been a close guarded secret for centuries. As guardian of the pendant we will share the secret with you. It is your duty to ensure that this secret does not fall into the wrong hands.” Vincent nodded, understanding the gravity of the thing he was about to receive.

  “Excellent,” Auna continued. “The use of the pendent is simple, almost too simple. However, one must be able to wield a token in order to command the pendent. Anyone who has the potential to receive a token will feel the pendent warm to their touch. If that is the case, you must channel a small amount of energy from your token into the pendent. The pendent will start to glow as the wearer clears his mind of thought. When the mind is adequately prepared, the token will be granted.”

  Auna dropped the pendent into Vincent’s outstretched hands. It was cool against his skin, but he remembered the first time he had worn it. It had felt so hot that he was surprised that it hadn’t burned him.

  The Abbot smiled as Vincent placed the chain around his neck, hanging next to the fire stone. The Abbot’s head fell back to his pillow. He was obviously exhausted. Auna gestured for them to leave and allow the Abbot to rest. They gathered just outside the door and the stone wall once again took its place in front of the door.

  “Well,” Trent said quietly, “it has been decided. You stay here. For better or for worse the future rests on your shoulders.

  An hour later, Vincent and Lauren sat alone in their room once again. The events of the last day still whirled in their minds. Vincent was absently turning the pendent over in his hand, the weight of responsibility settling over him like a cloak.

  “What do we do now?” Lauren asked, her voice was little more than a whisper, but it cut through the echoing silence.

  “We do what must be done,” Vincent replied. “We have faced danger before, we’ll do it again.” He finally looked up at Lauren’s face. He was surprised to see how fearful she looked. It was as though the tough outer layer had been stripped away, revealing a small, trembling child.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, moving to sit next to her on her bed.

  “It’s over, isn’t it,” she said, holding back tears. “We worked so long and hard to try to restore Pallà, and now this happens. It was all for nothing and now we face destruction by the Magi.”

  “It is not over,” Vincent replied firmly. “As long as I still draw breath I will continue to fight. I will give everything I have for our cause.”

  “But what if that isn’t enough?”

  “Then it will end,” he said solemnly, looking her in the eyes, “but it will be such an end that it will be spoken of for generations to come; even among the Eresians.”

  Lauren forced herself to smile, but it was strained. He could see the despair in her eyes, and it hurt him. He hated seeing her this way. It was such a sharp contrast to how vibrant she had been at the camp. Even when they had been running from Frost she hadn’t lost hope.

  “Come on,” Vincent said getting up, “let’s go see how the others are doing. Weston should be awake now.”

  Lauren smiled - a real smile this time - the light returning to her eyes, even if it was faint.

  “Yeah,” she said getting up, “that would be nice.”

  They walked quietly through the corridors leading back up to the abbey. Very few people were in the dormitories now. Most were camped up around the walls, waiting. Even the cloister was deserted, apart from a few sentries meant to keep the refugees away from the Dome.

  The entry hall was a little more crowded. Knights were running everywhere, with the occasional Ranger stalking about evaluating the most defensible spots in the building.

  They tried to stay out of the way of the bustling troops as they cut across the entry hall and out the main abbey doors. The grounds were not much better. Shoddy tents were scattered around the walls where knights waited for their turn at watch.

  Trent stood in front of the main gate, which was closed and firmly barred, barking orders to the Rangers that hurried past. Every now and then he took a disgusted look toward the scattered tents and shook his head. The Rangers had set up camp around the side of the abbey; their tents were in neat orderly rows.

  Vincent and Lauren weaved through the knights. When they finally reached Trent he was shouting at one of the senior knights. Vincent recognized the mark on the shoulder of his armour which distinguished him as the captain of the guard, but Vincent didn’t know his name.

  Trent noticed them approaching and turned his attention away from the knight just long enough for him to sneak away, leaving Trent shouting at the man’s back.

  “That man just won’t listen to reason,” Trent grumbled. “Would it be that difficult to move his tents behind the abbey where they would be out of the way?”

  “I’m sure he’s just trying to do the right thing,” Lauren said smiling at Trent’s antics, “his heart is in the right place.”

  “Good intentions won’t help us when the Eresians finally march against us. They may be held at bay for the moment by the barrier, but that bubble is shrinking by the minute.” Trent hushed his voice, barely daring to whisper. “The Abbot grows weaker every day. I don’t know how long he’ll be able to maintain the barrier. When that falls, the very jaws of the abyss will gape open wide to swallow us whole.”

  The smile faded from Lauren’s face once again. The weight of what Vincent had to do seemed to grow on his shoulders. The abbot had said that as long as he lived there would be hope for the Order, but what if he didn’t live? What if this battle would be his last? He didn’t want to think about that. Not now at any rate. He quickly changed the subject so as to dispel the solemn air that was forming around them.

  “Have you seen Weston?” Vincent asked, knocking the other two out of their trances. “He should have recovered by now. Where is he?”

  “Oh,” Trent replied distractedly, “he and David are watching the children around the back of the abbey.”

  “Thanks,” Vincent said, tugging Lauren behind him as he turned to leave. “We’ll let you get back to your duties then.” He and Lauren rushed off as Trent went back to shouting at anyone who came anywhere near him, as though he hadn’t been interrupted at all.

  The grounds to the rear of the abbey had been filled with the tents of the refugees, and there was very little space left. However, this did not stop the large and rambunctious group of children from running and screaming through the jumble of tents as they played. Most of the refugees were not around as they were huddling in the great hall to be out of the sun. The few that remained in their tents tried to ignore the games of the little ones, but every now and then one of the children would run into one of them, or trip on their legs sticking out of a tent. This would be followed by a string of curses from the resting refugee.

  Both David and Weston were leaning agai
nst the back wall of the abbey, laughing to each other over the antics of the children. If Vincent hadn’t seen with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that Weston had been close to death just hours earlier. It reminded him of when he had first arrived at the Ranger encampment and for a moment he forgot the impending doom that hung over them all.

  “Vincent,” a small voice called from behind him. Vincent turned just in time to catch the small boy that was flinging himself at him. Jace was smiling happily as the other children swarmed around Vincent.

  Lauren quickly distanced herself so as not to be drawn into the hoard of children now trying to climb up Vincent’s legs. She joined David and Weston against the wall, laughing as Vincent struggled to stay upright.

  Vincent put forth a valiant effort at remain on his feet with the children climbing over him, but one of the older children decided to join in the fun. He crashed into the group, finally toppling Vincent, who was now laughing just as hard as the children.

  Jace moved quickly, sitting on Vincent’s chest, looking down into his eyes.

  “We knew you’d come back,” Jace smiled. “Even when they told us you weren’t coming back we knew you would.” Jace seem very pleased with himself. “Are you going to stay and play with us?”

  Vincent tilted his head just enough to see Lauren, who winked at him encouragingly. Vincent smiled, freeing his hands from under the other children who were trying to keep him pinned to the ground. He grabbed Jace from off his chest and jumped to his feet, sending the children lying across his legs tumbling to the ground as they laughed.

  “I guess I can play for a little while,” Vincent said, setting Jace on the ground, “but you’ll have to catch me!” He set off at a light jog, going just fast enough that the children could keep up with him but not catch him.

  The world seemed so much simpler as he laughed with the children. Time seemed to slow. He could have kept playing forever.

  “Vincent!” The shout stopped him in his tracks and the children crashed into his back. Vincent looked to the source of the voice. Master Auna was rounding the abbey to where Vincent stood, once again trying to stay upright as the children tried to pull him down.

  The look on Auna’s face told Vincent that something had happened, something bad. He quickly disentangled himself from the children amidst their cries of disappointment and hurried over to the Master Templar. David, Weston and Lauren all hurried over as well to hear the news.

  “Things are not going as I had hoped,” Auna said as Vincent approached. “The Magi seem to have taken full control of the Empire. The force that marches against us is made up primarily of creatures from the abyss. At least one of the Magi marches at their head, and rumor has it that Thomas Honson marches with them.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Vincent asked, grudgingly accepting the fact that the Thomas he had known was no more, “I can’t kill my friend.”

  “Then pray to the Goddess that the barrier holds. As long as that stands they cannot get to us; but they’ve already started gathering at its border, and they’re sending patrols around its edge,” Auna said. Vincent couldn’t tell how Auna was feeling. There was a sound of despair in his voice, but his eyes seemed to show relief.

  “But what about the refugees?” David asked, sounding concerned. “I thought the plan was to sneak them out through the woods. If there are patrols then the refugees wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “I know,” Auna whispered, “but there is nothing we can do about that now. The Eresians moved far faster than I had anticipated. It’s only been a few days and they’ve already gathered and are waiting. The Magi must have known we’d never hand you over to them without a fight.”

  “What about the children?” Vincent asked, glancing back at the children, who were still playing, happily oblivious to what was going on outside the abbey walls. “They can’t stay here. They’ll be killed.”

  “What other option do we have?” Auna said somberly. “They stand even less of a chance if we try and sneak them past the Magi and their army of monsters. I never intended for it to come to this, but it has. I just hope the Goddess will be merciful to them.”

  Vincent’s mind flashed. He was standing in the cloister of the abbey building. Smoke was gushing from the windows and fire was pouring from the reception chamber. Bodies littered the ground, including the monstrous form of a minotaur. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed a small motionless form on the ground. Jace was dead.

  His mind flashed again, and he was back.

  “I’m not going to let that happen!” Vincent exclaimed, his anger showing in his voice. The others looked at him, confused. They had moved on to discuss defense strategy.

  “What are you talking about,” Weston asked.

  “Master Silva once told me that the dreams of a Pallàdrim were visions of what would be if we don’t do something to change them. I’m going to make sure that my dream does not become a reality. I’ll do whatever it takes to defend this abbey and those within it.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Auna said, a smile on his face. “The Abbot may have been right. You could be the only hope for us. Do you have any suggestions that can help?”

  Vincent thought for a moment. “If we’re going to have any chance of survival, then we’re going to need a lot more fighters than we currently have. We’ll need to train some of the refugees to assist in this battle. Anyone old enough to carry a sword should be given a chance to defend themselves. I don’t know how much time we’ll have, but we’ll need to start as soon as possible. Gather all the Rangers.”

  “Vincent,” Auna said cautiously, “with the Abbot’s failing health, the barrier could collapse at any time.”

  “Then we had better get started,” Vincent replied, trying to hide his own concern. “I refuse to sit here and wait for the Magi. If we are to die here, I want it to be such a death that the entire world will speak of it for centuries to come.”

  Chapter 21: The Last Stand

  Vincent woke with a yawn. A week had passed since they had started training the refugees to fight. They had made little progress, but at least they wouldn’t die without a fight.

  He got out of his bed and stretched. He felt bad that he was still sleeping in the dormitories while the knights slept outside in tents. He had offered to join them, but Trent had forbidden it.

  “What if the barrier falls during the night and they launch a sneak attack,” he had said. “It’s better to put more space between them and you.”

  Vincent had tried to argue the point but to no avail. He looked over to Lauren’s neatly made bed as he put on his armour. She was already gone, as usual. She disliked being trapped inside and took every opportunity to get out into the grounds.

  Vincent surveyed the golden mask for a moment before tucking his white mask into his pocket. Despite what Master Silva had said, Master Auna was the ranking Pallàdrim. Vincent had no right to wear that mask.

  Vincent left the room, walking briskly to the stairs leading to the upper level. The dormitories seemed eerie without the other knights. His footsteps boomed in a hollow echo down the empty corridors.

  As he made his way up the stairs he could hear the abbey bell ringing. It was a slow mournful chime. Vincent had never heard the bell ringing like that.

  A sudden sense of loss fell over him.

  He picked up his pace, moving at a light jog as he went up the stairs. The guard that usually stood sentry at the entrance to the Great Dome was not there. Vincent quickly looked around the cloister. There was a group of people spilling out of the sanctuary door.

  He quickly moved to join them. The bell stopped and the abbey fell into complete silence.

  “What’s going on?” Vincent asked quietly as he joined the group.

  “The Lord Abbot is dead,” the man closest to him said without turning to look at him.

  The words hung in the air like a death sentence. The abbot was dead.

  Vincent stood in shock. Abbot Markov had been abbot
since long before Vincent was born. While Vincent had never been particularly close to the abbot, he had always been a source of strength. As long as the abbot was there, they were safe. Now that safety was gone.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was pulling him away from the group. He didn’t know where he was being taken, but he didn’t care. He was still in too much of a daze.

  “We’ve got to get you out of here.” The whispered voice pulled him out of his grief.

  What? Who would even suggest that Vincent leave the abbey now? It took Vincent a moment to figure out who was speaking to him as he took in his surroundings. To his surprise the voice belonged to Trent.

  “The barrier is already failing,” Trent carried on, still pulling Vincent toward the dormitories. “When it does we will be defenseless, and the Magi will come. We don’t have a chance of surviving that assault. Like the Abbot said, you are the only hope for the order. If you survive then you could rebuild, which is why we need to get you out of here.”

  Vincent stopped, pulling his arm free.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t start with that, Vincent. You know as well as I that there is no hope here. Save yourself while you still can.”

  “I took an oath when I became a knight, Trent,” Vincent said firmly. “I swore that I would never abandon the Order, even if it cost me my life. I don’t intend to abandon that oath now.”

  “But what happens when there is no order to protect?” Trent threw back. “What if you leaving were the only way that the Order would survive?”

  “Then I would rather die standing beside my friends than turn my back on them and leave them to face their death alone. If it is the will of Sandora that I live, then it will be so. That is enough for me.”

  “As it should be enough for you,” Lauren’s voice called sternly from behind them. “The Lord Abbot said that it was the will of Sandora for him to stay. Would you fight the will of the Goddess?”

  Trent just glared at Lauren. She met his gaze until he looked away.