The Ranger (Book 1) (2 page)

“We should have just enough time for a quick review. Have you been practicing like I told you?” Auna asked calmly.

“Yes,” Vincent replied quietly.

“I’m proud of you,” Master Auna said at length. “You’ve come a long way from the crying orphan you were when the Rangers brought you here.” Vincent smiled at the praise. “But you know that everything will have been for nothing if you don’t perform well tonight.”

The smile faded from Vincent’s face. The final graduation ceremony was a tournament. The knights that had graduated competed against each other to demonstrate their abilities. The winners and those who ranked high would receive the better placements, while those who had ranked low received less favourable positions, if they were allowed to leave at all. Vincent was not concerned about losing, but he would have difficulty if he wanted to win. He did have one thing that most of the others did not have, he had been granted a Token.

“I’m still having difficulty holding the power from my token,” Vincent admitted.

“Tokens do not teach themselves,” Auna said reassuringly. “You have been blessed by the Goddess with this power and it will take time to master, but she would not have given it to you if you were not capable.” Auna patted Vincent's back where there was a small mark, about the size of the palm of his hand, in the shape of a single flame in the center of a thin ring. It was burned into his back: the Token of Fire.

In ages past, a token had been required for graduation from the Knight’s Academy, however, ever since the Pallàdrim War those who were granted Tokens had decreased. It was said that this was a punishment for the foolish actions of the Pallàdrim.

“Let’s see how far you have come,” Auna said, rubbing his gloved hands together. “I want to ensure that you have not wasted the time that I have invested in you.”

Master Auna was the only other person in the abbey that had the token of fire, so he had spent the last three months personally training Vincent, and instructing him in the use of his token.

Vincent got to his feet. Closing his eyes, he focused on the mark on his back, remembering the searing sensation that had accompanied its appearance three months earlier. Warmth filled his body, an energy that grew until it felt like his body would burst. The energy gathered in the token, which glowed red beneath his clothing. It then shot to his hands, which in turn took a red aura. He was now ready to control fire.

Auna pulled a small piece of flint and a bit of tinder from the pouch on his belt. Drawing his dagger, he struck the flint sending a shower of sparks flying on the little pile of tinder. He blew on the sparks until a small flame was sputtering in the wood shavings.

“Alright,” Master Auna said, “do it just like we practiced.”

Vincent nodded and closed his eyes once again. He could feel the token throbbing on his back and the power flowing down to his hands. Through the darkness he could see a small speck of light. Vincent reached out with his token, grabbing hold of the light.

He opened his eyes. His arm was extended, pointing at the pitiful little flame sputtering on the pile of tinder. Vincent raised his hand and the flame rose with it, the flame faltered for a second, but Vincent quickly recovered it. He had performed this activity so many times over the last few weeks that it now felt almost natural.

The ball slowly grew until it was the size of Vincent’s head. The ball whizzed through the air guided by his hand. It now burned a vibrant orange.

“Good,” Auna said, a broad smile on his face, “now form armour.”

Vincent slowly guided the ball until it landed in the palm of his left hand. He quickly closed his hand, sending the fire shooting up his arm and covering his body. A warm tingling covered his skin as the flames licked harmlessly at him.

“Very good,” Auna said, calmly clapping his hands, “that was much smoother than last time. Now, tell me, why is it important to be able to form armour using your token?”

“It’s important because a token is the only thing that can defend against another token,” Vincent replied, only half certain of the answer.

“That’s correct,” Auna smiled, “if you perform like that tonight you won’t have any problems.”

“Thank you,” Vincent accepted the complement with a smile.

“Now,” Master Auna said, getting to his feet and brushing himself off, “Thomas should have the children gathered by now, you should go join him.”

“Yes sir,” Vincent allowed the fire to puff out before saluting Auna.

“But there is one more thing to remember Vincent,” Auna continued, “As you know, you are not to cross the river for
any
reason. Is that understood?”

Vincent nodded his understanding before turning and marching away. He headed down the tree-lined path that led around the side of the abbey buildings. He took his time, admiring the buildings. The Grand Abbey of Pallà was over seven hundred years old. Most of the buildings were plain, unadorned red granite. Simple glass windows covered the openings. The sanctuary, on the other hand, was beautifully crafted with ornate stonework and fine stained glass windows along the front depicted the ten tokens granted by Sandora. Stone walled corridors connected all the buildings together, creating an enclosed cloister in the middle. The cloister housed the entrance to the most holy of holy shrines in all of Pallà, the Great Dome. The Great Dome housed the Golden Sword of Breen, and a statue of the Goddess filled much of the space.

Vincent continued on down the path to the small field behind the abbey buildings. A large group of excited children greeted him as he rounded the back of the abbey.

“’Bout time you got here,” Thomas grumbled as Vincent joined him in the middle of the large group. “I thought I was going to have to take these kids by myself.”

Thomas was shorter than Vincent, but much more muscular. His breastplate was dull, and there was a great deal of dirt on the knees of his pants. He had long red hair that hung wildly, adding to his renegade appearance. He had a light imperial accent.

“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. There 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.