The Ranger (Book 1) (11 page)

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.”

Vincent turned, looking out across the mountains. Waves of men were flowing toward the tower. Suddenly, the ball of fire on top of the tower erupted, shooting columns of fire at the advancing armies. It did not take long for the ranks to break and the men to flee.

“Our fortifications were too strong for them. We felt invincible; which may be why our fall was as great as it was. Had we prepared like we should have, as we were told to, it may have all been different.” Silva stopped, obviously depressed. Vincent continued to watch the invading army. With each wave they grew bolder. At length, Silva continued.

“In preparation for the last great assault by the Eresians, they acquired the services of the Magi, the servants of Katrina, The Beast Mistress and Dark Goddess of the Abyss. They are little better than werewolves, except the ‘gift’ of Katrina allows them to control the disease. Much like true werewolves, those they bite become infected, except their victims lack the control granted by the Dark Lady.  The Magi hate Sandora and all who follow her,” his tone somber. “They joined the Eresian Empire as their Elite Army.”

Vincent turned back to the advancing army. It had changed. Hundreds of cloaked and hooded figures now marched at the head. As the fire tower began to target them, they transformed. Great wolf-like creatures bounded up the mountain, dodging the fire as it shot at them.

“With the gifts they received from Katrina, they were able to overcome our defenses. They destroyed the great towers; only fire remains intact now. All the others are simply ruins; shadows of their former glory.”

The scene shifted once more. Vincent now stood in the plains surrounding Gesta. Hundreds of Pallàdrim were lined up on either side of him, each wearing a strange silver mask and a suit of black armor. In the distance, he could just make out the line of the Eresian Army as it advanced.

“The Magi marched at the head of the Eresian Army, destroying all in their path until they reached Gesta, capital city of Pallà.” Silva had composed himself again, but resentment still rang in his voice. “It was there we made our last stand. By that point, only about seven hundred Pallàdrim remained; the rest of the knights were scattered, but we fought anyway.”

The Eresians drew close, charging at the line of Pallàdrim. Fire erupted from the hands of the front rank, cutting men down where they stood. As with the tower in the mountains, the lines were scattering before the force of the Token of Fire.

“There were more soldiers than I could count, yet the Eresian forces broke against our lines. We were immovable. Our victory was to be glorious, unlike anything before it. Then the Magi joined the battle.”

Just as Vincent had witnessed in the mountains, the Magi darted around the raging fires and charged the lines. Swords were drawn all along the line as the Pallàdrim engaged the Magi. The Magi cut through the line of Pallàdrim, leaving destruction in their wake.

“We were pushed back, briefly,” Silva stated breathlessly. “The tides were turning against us. We rallied together and pushed back, regaining lost ground. Once again they fell upon our lines. But then, the Grand Magi used his gift. He transformed into a monstrous beast and tore through our ranks, killing all in his path. All Magi can transform, but this was something else.”

A giant shadow grew from the midst of the Magi, standing almost three times taller than the rest of the army. Great bat-like wings spread from its back and monstrous claws grew on its massive hands. The creature tore through the ranks of the Pallàdrim, leaving only death.

“The King called the retreat, and shortly thereafter, he surrendered.”

Vincent felt himself pulled backward. He landed in a chair with such force that it fell over backwards. Slowly, he got up and righted the chair. He was back in the cabin.

“The Royal Family and all remaining Pallàdrim were exiled.” Auna explained as Vincent recovered from the shock of what had just happened. “The Emperor allowed us to live, and the people to continue their worship on the condition that we didn’t fight against the Empire, or train new Pallàdrim. The Magi didn’t like this, as their goal was the total destruction of the Order of Sandora, but they didn’t dare oppose the Emperor, at least, not openly. If this were the only condition, we would have happily submitted to their rule; however, the Magi have been growing in influence in the Empire, and have restricted the rights of the people of Pallà. The Imperial Garrisons have been removed from the majority of the towns in the province, leaving them undefended. The Rangers are now the only source of protection in most of the Old Kingdom. Also, the Emperor has now imposed a heavy tax on the people. It is all the workings of the Magi, trying to force an uprising to justify an invasion. And if things continue the way they are, they’ll have their uprising, and the people will be swept away. In the days after the Great War we could have done something, calmed the people, but now we are too few.”

“There were ten of us left back then,” Silva explained. “Two died shortly after the battle due to their wounds. Five others were hunted down by the Magi during the ensuing centuries, leaving only Jerome, myself, and the Guardian: the defender of the Royal Family. Then, they found the Guardian and killed him with most of his family and all but one of the Royal Family. I now am the guardian of the last heir to the throne.”

“We’ve been on the run for centuries, Vincent,” Auna had a serious tone to his voice, “but that’s about to change. I believe you have the potential to become a truly powerful Pallàdrim, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since Breen was gifted the first token over five thousand years ago.”

“If the Magi are really hunting me, and if they know all about me, why didn’t they send Frost to the abbey to get me?” Vincent asked. “I mean, I spent hours away from the abbey just sitting on the riverbank. It would have been easy.”

“There are greater powers than you understand at work Vincent.” Auna replied with a smile. “Abbots are given remarkable powers to protect the people of their abbey. Some are more powerful than others, but they can all repel evil to some extent. The creatures of the abyss and the followers of Katrina are almost entirely ruled by the evil desires of their hearts and therefore cannot penetrate the barriers created by the abbots. Some of the abbots are only powerful enough to shield their sanctuary, like Abbot Lowe in Gesta, while others can cover the entire grounds of their abbey despite the encroaching evil all around them, like Abbot Foster in Spacco. Abbot Markov is truly powerful. He is able to create a barrier that stretches all the way to the river; but the far shore is beyond his protection, which is why you were never permitted to cross.”

“But how can I make a difference?” Vincent interrupted, not really paying attention to Auna’s explanation. “I’m just one man. You’ve been fighting for hundreds of years, and I, by your own mouth,” Vincent pointed at Silva, “have never seen real battle.”

“Vincent,” Auna put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and gave him his familiar, encouraging smile, “you will make all the difference. The fact that the Magi are hunting you means that they fear you; they fear what you will become in time. That fear is well founded. You controlled an elemental, Vincent; they are made of flames from the high plane. Normally, only high ranking Pallàdrim, with years of training, can do that. Not even Jason, not even I can do that, and you did it naturally. They are right to fear you.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Vincent whispered. “Like I told you, I’m no leader. I don’t know the first thing about leading an army.”

“Vincent, I’ve known you since you were a small child. I have seen you rise to every challenge you were confronted with. I know that when the time comes, you will be equal to the task,” Auna said comfortingly. “But we’ll be there to help you along the way. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“But still, what if I fail you? What if I’m not what you think I am? What if I just can’t do it?” Vincent let his fear show in his voice.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Silva sounded frustrated. “You are the Chosen One. You have been marked. You are the hope of all those that worship the Great Goddess. You won’t fail.”

Suddenly, Vincent was standing on the training field at the abbey. This was different from when he had been transported by Silva, this was
his
memory. Hundreds of people were cheering him. A searing pain shot through his back as Mayberry pressed his hand into his token.

“I see great things in store for you, Chosen One. You may yet be the hope of many,” Mayberry’s voice seemed to ring ominously.

He was transported away to an empty road in the woods and a great black centaur stood before him.

“At last I’ve found you, Hope of Sandora.”

The scene changed again. Vincent was lying on the ground; a giant boot was pressing down on his chest.

“And so dies the hope of Sandora.” The voice echoed like the growl of a wolf through Vincent’s mind.

Then he was back in the chair in the cabin. One thing was clear: it couldn’t be coincidence, not that many times, even if one was just a dream. There was something more going on, and Vincent was determined to find out what it was.

“I’ll do what I can,” Vincent said after a few minutes of reflection, “but I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all we can ask,” Silva said, the frustration disappearing from his voice. He got up and stretched. “Now, I think it’s about time for you to get to bed. You have to get up early tomorrow, and it’s going to be a long day.”

The sun had set. The darkness pouring in from outside was pushed back by the lone flickering candle on the table as Auna and Silva left the cabin.

“I’ll see you in the morning Vincent,” Silva said as he left.

Vincent stood alone in the room as the candle slowly sputtered out. He undressed, hanging his new armor on the rack in the corner of his room. His bed welcomed him, and he was quickly asleep.

Chapter 7: Training Begins

Vincent awoke early the next morning. The sun was slowly creeping over the horizon sending rays of light cascading through his small window. He sat up and yawned. The events of the night before still felt surreal.