Ranger's Oath

by Blake Arthur Peel

  The signal has been sent.

  Along with the other mages, I channel the energy into magefyre, compact ball of blue flames dancing in my palm. The flickering fire shoots out of my hand like a storm, burning the demons and men in front of me and igniting the pitch beneath their feet.

  In a matter of seconds the entire road becomes a conflagration so bright that I fear I may go blind. The very air seems to shimmer from the heat of the inferno.

  After a few moments I break my concentration, ending the spell and releasing the latent energy within me. I watch in sick satisfaction as the gorgons and shadowlings writhe in agony in the midst of the magical flames, their skin sizzling and sloughing off like wax melting from a candle. The bewitched Nightingales stand like statues as they burn, as if they feel no pain at all.

  Forcing myself to look away, I disappear into a stand of trees behind me and begin creeping up the hill to join the others behind the barricade.

  Halfway up the path I stop dead in my tracks as a darkhound steps out from the shadows, its fangs bared and glistening in the lights of the fire. My heart leaps into my throat and for a moment I just stand there, frozen and unable to move.

  The darkhound barks, a guttural sound that cuts through the sounds of battle like a knife. Then, before I can even begin pulling in source energy, it lunges toward me, jaws snapping hungrily.

  Pitifully, I raise my hands as if I can stop the beast's advancement with willpower alone. But just before it reaches me, a glinting flash of metal spins from somewhere above and embeds itself in the shadowling's spine. The darkhound yelps and spins, looking for its attacker. Then, an arrow whistles through the air and plunges deep into its eye socket.

  It falls, twitching to the ground.

  Owyn emerges from some bushes up the hill and pulls his hatchet from the monsters back. The blade emerges from its spine with a sickening crunch. Giving me a lopsided grin, he says, "That's two, mage. We'll be even before this night is over."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Owyn

  Zara purses her lips and wags a finger at me. "If you think I'm going to let you save me again, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

  This only makes my grin widen.

  "Come on," I say, waving for her to follow me up the hill. "Let's get up there and join the others."

  We pick our way up the narrow trail and find a small opening in the barricade, slipping inside and sealing it behind us with a barrel of stones. Then, we pass through the weary defenders, finding Elias near the front of our gathered host and watching the blue fires burn with a grim expression.

  "You and your fellow mages did well," he remarks as we approach. "The rest of the demons pulled back. I think your combined power was too much for them to defend against."

  "Good," Zara replies. From the light of the blue flames, I can tell that she is extremely tired. Using so much magic appears to have worn on her. "It's only a matter of time before they will be back, though. What is the plan?"

  Barus, who is now dismounted from his horse, steps over to our little group and interjects. "This is it, Magus," he says determinedly. "We make our stand here. This is where we either hold out against them or fall."

  I look up the hill where the governor's mansion stands, silently watching us before a canvass of stars. Reality sets in, reminding me that we are all that's left between the townsfolk hiding inside and an army of bloodthirsty demons.

  Eleven Hells... this is it. Once those fires die out they are going to throw everything they have at us. Will we be ready?

  Elias seems to recognize the discouraged looks Zara and I are both wearing. He clears his throat, then points. "We have positioned all our archers in the buildings and trees around us. They will put pressure on the demons as they try to break through our barricades. Barus and the Nightingales will hold the line here while the remaining militia will wait in reserve. They will rotate in shifts as the front line tires out. They have shields to defend them against enemy crossbows."

  "And what if they bring out that magic device?" I ask, pointing out the obvious danger.

  "That is where Zara and the other mages come in." Elias says. "When we see that thing prepare to fire, they will combine their strength and create a shield of radiant energy. Again, they will maintain it in shifts so that no one will tire out."

  I nod, but still feel skeptical. It is plain how tired Zara and the other mages are. Can they really keep it up all night?

  “Prepare yourselves,” Elias says as a young runner boy hands him a fresh quiver filled with arrows. “The time is fast approaching.”

  Sure enough, I can see that the magefyre trap is starting to fizzle out, leaving behind a mass grave of twisted and blackened bodies. Through the haze I can see the massive demonic host beyond, waiting for their chance to converge on our location once again. Moloch stands at the front of his gorgon line, black sword piercing the ground before him like a tombstone. His glowing red eyes regard us with hatred beneath his crown of gnarled horns.

  “Are you going to be alright?” I ask Zara in a low voice, feeling genuinely concerned for her well-being.

  “I’ll be fine,” she replies coolly. She takes a long gulp of a water skin and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then hands it over to me. “You just worry about yourself, alright?”

  “Easy for you to say.” I take the water skin but do not drink. “One of you mages is easily worth ten or twenty of us mere mortals.”

  Our conversation is interrupted as a blanket of green energy snakes out from the hands of several of the gorgons. The shimmering tendrils lace over the low fires on the road and begin to snuff them out, making it safe for them to pass once more. As they do so, Moloch lets out an otherworldly cry that is echoed by the demons surrounding him.

  The shout is so loud that I have to resist covering my ears.

  When the fires are finally out the magic dissipates, and the combined horde surges forward in one big group. Elias gestures with his bow and the archers stationed around us begin loosing their arrows at the charging army.

  “Brace the barricade!” Barus shouts. “Don’t let any of them through!”

  Using shields and spears, a few even using their bare hands, the defenders brace the makeshift barricade and prepare for the monsters to collide.

  When they do the resulting crash is immense. The low wall, made from junk and furniture and anything else that the townsfolk could scavenge from their homes, buckles under the pressure of the gorgon’s charge. It is all our people can do to keep it from caving in and letting in a flood of demons.

  Arrows and magic missiles fly overhead like angry insects, killing troops on both sides, while those on the front lines poke wildly with their swords and spears, trying to score a lucky hit on the other side.

  Amid the chaos and the bustle, I manage to take a step back and ready my bow. I begin firing arrows as fast as I can pull them out of my quiver, the bowstring snapping violently as launch arrow after arrow. Gorgons and shadowlings become pincushions before the onslaught, feathered shafts sticking out of them like quills on a porcupine.

  Zara’s voice calls out to me over the sounds of battle. “Where are the other mages?” Her voice sounds frantic, almost on the verge of hysteria. “Have you seen where the rest of the mages are?”

  I cast my eyes about the battlefield, but cannot spot the telltale blue robes of members of the Conclave. Shrugging my shoulders, I shout back, “I can’t find any of them, Zara.”

  She bites her lower lip, clearly worried, when another ear-splitting roar rips through the air.

  We look to see that Moloch has taken to standing on a broken wagon behind his battling troops, striking a triumphant pose in his thick black armor. “Behold, the fate of all who defy us!” He raises his great sword into the air with both hands, impaled upon which is the figure of a man, bloodied and broken.

  Zara gasps in horror. “Willus!”

  I squint and see that the body is indeed wearing blue-colored robes.r />
  Other gorgons begin raising weapons in a similar fashion, all bearing the corpses of mages who had not been quick enough to escape from the road after their trap with the magefyre.

  Zara is the only one left.

  The sound of Barus’ deep voice shakes me from my horrified stupor. “The machine!” He cries over the sound of fighting. “They are bringing forth the machine!”

  “Oh, Light,” I say in sudden understanding. “They’re going to bring down the barricade...”

  “I don’t think I can hold a shield all on my own, Owyn,” Zara says, her face growing even paler. “I don’t think that I can–”

  Then, an explosion rocks the battlefield that ripples through the very earth.

  Like the sound of a thousand tree trunks breaking in half, the center of the barricade explodes inward, throwing debris and corpses back with a blinding flash of green light. Zara and I are both knocked backward by the blast, an intense heat rushing past us in a blistering wind. A high-pitched ringing fills my ears, and for a moment I lay there, too stunned to even move.

  Hope has been snuffed out of me like a candle in a rainstorm.

  Somehow, I manage to prop myself up on an elbow and blink away my blindness. Our forces have been blasted completely in half. A gaping hole now occupies the space where dozens of people had been just moments before, fighting for their lives against an overwhelming force. Bodies, dirt, and shattered splinters of wood now litter the field, reminding me of the dead deer Elias and I had found all those days ago.

  It feels as if it has been a lifetime since that day.

  Like an unstoppable tide of destruction, Moloch leads his demons through the divide, his leering visage twisted into a victorious grin. The reserve militia, who have apparently recovered from the effects of the explosion, scramble forward to intercept the demons, but it is a pitiful attempt at defense. As soon as they meet Moloch and his troops they begin dying by the score.

  A few of the Nightingales who had managed to survive the blast join the fight as well, but they are sorely pressed. The demons push them relentlessly up the hill.

  Words come unbidden to my mind, a mantra that I have recited a thousand times before. One that has always given me comfort in times of need.

  The Ranger's Oath.

  I swear by my life and my hope for salvation that I will abide by the Oath of the Rangers until my dying breath.

  Our solemn duty is to protect the borders of the realms of men, from those enemies who would seek our destruction. The wilderness shall be our homestead, the sun and stars our only hearth. We will sacrifice everything, even our very lives, for the defense of the kingdom, unto the death of those who would do us harm.

  We are the watchers in the woods, the arrows in the darkness.

  None shall pass by while we stand guard.

  Staggering to my feet, I watch as Moloch cleaves two men in half with one mighty swing of his sword. I marvel at how powerful the great red demon is, how large and intimidating he appears before ordinary men.

  Then, his red eyes fall upon me and he grins wickedly, hefting his blade and making his way toward my position.

  Suddenly panicked, I reach for a blade, for anything, so that I can defend myself. My hatchet lies several feet away, covered in a thin layer of dirt, but it is too far for me to get to in time. Not seeing any other option, I scramble forward, reaching desperately for the handle. Moloch lifts up his sword to impale me through the back, time seeming to slow down as my life flashes before my eyes.

  It's too late, I find myself thinking. I'm done for.

  Just as he is about to plunge his black blade into my body, something collides into the tall demon's chest, knocking him off-balance and stopping him from making the killing stroke. Astounded, I look up to catch a glimpse of my savior.

  Elias squares off against the great demon, wielding his belt knife and a short sword that is already stained with dark blood. His blades lash out like lightning, deflecting Moloch’s ebony sword and gouging the flesh on his arm.

  The demon lets out a furious scream and turns his full attention on Elias, but my master is far too quick for his lumbering movements. He dodges out of the way of Moloch’s attack and strikes out again, leaving trails of dark blood in his wake.

  Suddenly finding myself out of immediate danger, I begin searching around for Zara. I call her name, but it comes out as more of a croak. Finally, I spot her laying a little way up the hill from my position. Crawling on my belly I make my way over to her side to see if she still lives.

  "I'm sorry," she says softly. Her lip is split and it dribbles blood as she talks.

  "For what?" I ask in reply.

  "I wasn't... strong enough," she whispers. Her voice is so quiet, but I can read her lips over the raging sounds of battle.

  I force a smile. "You were amazing," I say, trying to sound comforting. "The best mage I have ever known."

  She smiles back, but we both duck our heads as a bolt of green energy blasts a hole in the grass a few feet from our heads. I quickly glance about and see that the remaining militia are badly outnumbered. Many of them have fallen, and they are being pushed back by the demons so fast that it is practically a retreat. Demons and men alike, however, give Elias and Moloch a wide berth as they fight, apparently not wanting to get in the way of their titanic struggle.

  I gaze back at Zara, who is still wincing in pain. At least I won't die alone, I find myself thinking. It's a gloomy thought, but it still gives me some small measure of comfort.

  Abruptly, many of the gorgons pause in their relentless push forward. Their bestial faces all look upward in surprise.

  Then, magefyre begins pelting them like hail.

  Like a storm, Arch-magister Elva Tyrande leads the remaining mages down from the governor's mansion, hurling magic missiles and balls of fire at the demons in a colossal display of power.

  I watch in fascination as the very air around them appears to shimmer as they channel, their talismans glowing brightly as they begin destroying every enemy they can lay their eyes on. Gorgons burst into flames and large holes are blasted into darkhounds, the destruction so complete that it almost seems impossible. In a matter of seconds, the course of the battle begins to turn.

  My mouth hangs open wide as I watch, the lights so bright that they sear my eyes. Elva wields radiant magic like a master artist, her movements precise and her effects devastating. Wherever she looks demons die, and it appears there is no limit to the amount of source energy that she can channel.

  The scene is nothing short of spectacular.

  Amidst the chaos Elias begins to push Moloch even harder, and in the blue light I can see that the big demon is covered in dozens of bleeding cuts.

  The monster roars in anger, commanding his troops to press onward as he tries unsuccessfully to slay Elias. But even has he screams the demons begin to fall back.

  Ducking to avoid decapitation, Elias lunges forward with his blades held high. He feints to the left, then spins right at the last minute, driving his belt knife deep into the monster's neck. Red eyes bulge in surprise, and Elias follows this attack up by jabbing the tip of his short sword right into Moloch's belly. The blade plunges to the hilt and Elias steps back, letting the demon lord fall to his knees. He lets out a death rattle in the form of an incomprehensible gurgle, and when his body finally hits the ground, it lands with a very loud and very heavy thud.

  Upon seeing their master executed so handedly, the demons begin pulling back in earnest, the retreat devolving into a full-fledged rout. The mages, spearheaded by Elva Tyrande, blaze a path down the hill, leaving scores of charred demons in their wake. Upon seeing the mages’ magical inferno, the defenders begin to take heart, pushing the enemy harder and chasing them out of their town.

  In a matter of minutes, the battle appears to be over.

  Grunting, I haul myself to my feet and extend a hand to Zara, helping her up as well. She takes it and winces as I pull her to standing position. Then, together, we gaze
down at Forest Hill, the light of a dozen fires illuminating the retreating R’Laar.

  “It’s over,” I breathe, relief mixing with emotion at having survived the battle. “I can’t believe that we won.” Looking over at her, I see that Zara has tears in her eyes.

  She blinks and shakes her head, the tears rolling down her grime-stained cheeks. “I do not think that it is over,” she replies, glancing from me, to the bleeding corpse of Moloch, then back out into the night. “I think that it is just beginning.”

  Sobered, I take her by the hand and follow her gaze down the hill. We stand there for a while, lost in our own dark thoughts as we watch the demons retreat into the woods, scattering like chaff on the warm summer breeze.

  Epilogue

  Zara

  The sun rises to the east of Forest Hill, a red orb painting the sky in a soft orange hue and gradually brightening the darkened world. It illuminates a scene that will be burned into my memory forever.

  The quiet border town, once so quaint and peaceful, has been reduced to little more than ash. Buildings lie in ruins with corpses littering the ground almost everywhere I look. Those that survive are left with the grim task of gathering their dead for burial and rebuilding what was lost.

  Walking amid the desolate remains of the town, I hurry down the path to where my colleagues are gathering near the bottom of the hill.

  Although we have won a great victory here, there are no songs to be sung – war is much less glorious than it is portrayed in all of the textbooks. The bards always seem to gloss over the horrors, the ghastly sights, sounds and smells that can only be understood by one who has experienced them firsthand. I watch numbly as the triumphant defenders weep over their destroyed homes and their fallen friends. Although the women and children of Forest Hill have been saved from death and enslavement, they had emerged from the governor’s home to find a very different world than the one they had left. Many of them have lost fathers, brothers and sons, and have been left to pick up the pieces alone and haunted.