The Ranger (Book 1) (22 page)

“Then where did you learn them?” Silva stood up, becoming frustrated.

“I don’t know,” Vincent said, becoming angry himself. “My father showed them to me as a child, but the forms just came, I couldn’t control it.”

“I see,” Silva said, sitting back down. He clearly had not expected that answer. “Do you think you could do them on your own?”

“Maybe.”

“Go ahead, give it a try,” Silva motioned encouragingly.

Vincent stood up and moved away from the table. He closed his eyes, envisioning his father once again. Slowly, he started to move, his body mirroring the movements of the image of his father that was burned into his mind. The motion felt natural and fluid. He started moving faster. As the movement became more familiar, he moved with more precision.

“That will do,” Silva said quietly. “Please sit.”

Vincent returned to his chair. Silva returned to his thoughts. At length, he spoke.

“The technique you just displayed is one of the oldest forms of combat. It dates back thousands of years. There are few people left who could recognize it for what it is, and fewer still that could actually perform it. In fact, until just now, there were only two.”

“You and Master Auna,” Vincent guessed. Silva nodded. “Then that means…”

“That’s right,” Silva cut him off. “It was one of the secrets of the Pallàdrim.” The words hung in the air. “It is the ultimate in offense, but you sacrifice a great deal on defense. That was its only flaw. Other than that, it was perfect. It could be adapted for any weapon, and unless someone was familiar with it, it was almost unbeatable.”

“If it is as powerful as you say, then why not teach it to the other Rangers?” Vincent asked.

Something flickered in Silva’s eye. “This is a sign of the Pallàdrim,” he replied sternly. “Only Pallàdrim may learn it. Thus, if others went around using it, it might give the impression that we were training new Pallàdrim, and the Empire would rain down on us in their wrath. Unfortunately, we are not yet ready for that. Having said all this, you are never to use that technique, those forms, in public, or where another Ranger might see it and learn it.”

“But you said that there were few people who could recognize it,” Vincent protested. “I don’t see the danger.”

“Ah,” Silva nodded, “that is true; but most of those who would recognize it either are, or work for, the Magi. All it would take is for the wrong person to see it, and it’s all over.”

“Very well,” Vincent conceded.

“Good,” Silva seemed satisfied. “That will be all. Take the remainder of the day and rest. Tomorrow I’ll have a new assignment for you.”

Vincent quietly left Silva’s cabin and returned to his own. The other Rangers stopped and stared as he passed, but he didn’t notice or care. The training from the past few days was catching up with him, and his body ached all over. It took all his remaining energy not to fall asleep as he undressed. He lay on his bed and slept.

Chapter 13: Shadows of the Past

The heavy metal door slammed shut with an ominous thud, plunging the small hole into darkness.

It took Vincent’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim blue light coming from across the room. He was once again with his child self. It was cold, and the child was scared. The boy started shivering, then shaking, and couldn’t stop.

A muffled sob drew Vincent’s attention to the light. The light was coming from a small stone that was hanging around the neck of one of the little girls from the neighboring farms. She was huddled on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands.

Suddenly, Vincent was seeing though the child’s eyes. He slowly edged toward her. She didn’t react. “Are you alright?” he asked cautiously. At this, she cried harder. Vincent shifted uncomfortably before sitting next to her. “Everything will be ok,” he said, trying to reassure himself more than her. “You’ll see. Pappy is up there. He’ll take care of everything.”

A thunderous boom shook the little chamber, shaking some dirt loose from the rough cut ceiling and sending it raining down on the cowering children. The little girl grabbed hold of Vincent and was holding him close. To Vincent’s surprise, he was holding her too.

They sat holding each other as more and more booms shook the ground. The girl was still crying, while Vincent repeated to himself, “Pappy will protect us, everything will be fine,” over and over.

Time seemed to creep by as the noise got steadily closer. They could faintly hear the shouts of men now through the ceiling. One final boom shook the chamber, much louder than any of the others, and it lasted much longer. And then there was silence.

It was deafening. None of the children dared to move. What had happened up there?

Vincent’s imagination was awhirl with the possibilities. Each imagined scenario finished with his father standing triumphant over the armies of the monsters from his stories. Any second now, Pappy would fling open the door to the chamber.

Time continued to drag on, and still the chamber door remained closed. Slowly, Vincent’s mind turned to less savory thoughts. What if something had happened to his parents? He pushed those away. Nothing could hurt his parents, especially his father.

The door at the top of the ladder creaked open and light flooded the little chamber. They must have been down there much longer than Vincent had thought, as the sun had risen and now shone down on them.

A head appeared, silhouetted by the blinding light.

“They’re down here,” a voice called, sounding relieved. It was not a voice that Vincent recognized, but it apparently came from the head at the top of the ladder. “It’s alright,” the voice said comfortingly, “you’re safe now.”

Vincent started climbing the ladder. As he got higher the man came into view. He wore a silver mask that hid the features of his face. A large chunk was missing from the left side, not quite reaching his eye, and he was bleeding heavily, but Vincent hardly noticed that. He was transfixed by the eyes behind the mask. They were deep red and seemed to glow with an inner light, just like his father.

“Hurry up now,” the man chided.

Vincent hadn’t realized that he had stopped moving. He finished climbing the ladder and emerged from the hole. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

His house was gone. There was nothing left but a pile of smoldering ash. The rest of the farm yard had suffered the same fate. Burnt ground was all that remained. A large part of the forest on the border of their farms was still burning. It was all gone. What Vincent had thought was sunlight was actually the glow from the burning trees, which lit the clearing as though it were mid-day.

There were two other men sorting through the ashes, as if looking for something. They were dressed like the man with the silver mask, except their masks were white. They too appeared to have sustained serious injuries.

Vincent’s legs gave out and he fell to the ground, crying and calling for his parents. They didn’t come. He knew they wouldn’t. The reality of what had happened had hit him, hard, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying. He was scared.

One of the men noticed and hurried over. He was taller than the other two, and had deep black skin.

“There, there, boy,” the man said with a voice like soft velvet. “Everything will be ok, you’ll see.” He untied the strange knives that were strapped to his fists and picked Vincent up, holding him close.

Vincent wrapped his arms around the neck of the man, who winced noticeably but said nothing. Vincent peered over the man’s shoulder to see what was wrong. Shockingly, the back of the man’s tunic was gone and the armour had melted away. His back was covered in blistering burns, many of which were bleeding heavily. And yet he continued to hold and comfort Vincent.

“It’s not here.” Vincent could hear the other man talking to the man in the silver mask. “It must have burned up in the backlash.”

“That’s not possible,” the man in the silver mask replied calmly. “The stone was a gift from Sandora, it is indestructible.”

“Then they must have beaten us to it,” the other reasoned. “That’s the only logical answer.”

“But how? No one could have survived that.”

“Unless they came after, in which case they are probably still close by.”

The man in the silver mask paused, as if deep in thought. “No,” he said at length, “I can still sense the stone, and it is close. Ben,” the man called quietly. The man holding Vincent turned.

“Yes?”

“We need to get these children out of here,” the man said mournfully. “There’s nothing left for them.”

“Yes sir,” Ben replied. He too sounded sad.

“Take the children to the Grand Abbey. Jerome Auna will look after them.”

“And the princess?”

“I’ll see to her. You two go on ahead, I’m going to continue searching.”

“Right,” Ben nodded. “Trent,” he called to the other man, “let’s go. We’ve got to get these children home.”

Trent nodded silently and they headed off into the woods leaving the man in the silver mask and the girl with the strange blue stone behind.

***                            ***                            ***

Vincent’s eyes slowly opened. The sun had not yet risen, but he couldn’t get back to sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he got up.

Methodically, he went about getting dressed; but his thoughts were elsewhere. The holes in his past were being filled. It was starting to come back, and Trent held the key.

The sun was just starting to fill the sky with spectacular colors when Vincent left his cabin. He started walking toward the Hall in the hope of finding Trent.

He wandered slowly through the rows of cabins, lost in thought, until something caught his eye. Someone was on the training field. Vincent had never seen Trent on the training field except to train others. He went to check anyway.

As he approached the field, he saw two dark forms moving at remarkable speed. Not nearly as fast as Silva had moved, as Vincent could still follow him without Furtivos, but it was still much faster than a normal person.

One of them Vincent recognized as Trent, his height and the grace of his movements gave him away instantly. At first he thought the other might be a shadow knight, but there was something different about this one. The usual shadow knights were somewhat rigid in their movements, while this one was fluid and elegant. Also, the other shadow knights were simple dark forms. This one, however, seemed to suck in all the light from around it, leaving a large, dark halo.

The dark one noticed Vincent and stopped.

“You have a visitor Trenton.” Its voice was deep and seemed to flow with as much elegance as the figure had moved. “We shall continue tomorrow.” The figure slowly faded away and was gone.

Trent walked calmly over to where Vincent stood. There was just enough light to make out his face.

“’Morning Vincent,” Trent said cheerily. “It’s a surprise to see you up and about this early.”

“What was that?” Vincent asked curiously.

“A Shadow Elemental,” Trent replied. “That particular one is Sabey, Lord of the Night.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “So what has you up this early? With the training you did yesterday, I half expected you to sleep all day.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Vincent said, choosing his words, “and I have some questions for you.”

“Then ask away,” Trent said while stretching. “There are no secrets among friends.”

“You and Benjamin used to be partners, right?”

Trent stopped mid-motion.

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly, “why do you ask?”

“Lauren told me once that you and Ben were the only people she knew who had been sent on a black class mission, and lived. What was it like?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Trent started to walk away, but Vincent stopped him with his next question.

“Was it the night my parents died?” Vincent’s voice was sharper than he had wanted.

“How did you know?”

“Tell me Trent,” Vincent demanded firmly. “I need to know what happened that night.” Trent was clearly troubled by this.

“The Magi attacked your home,” Trent began. His voice was weak and trembling, Vincent had never seen him so unnerved. “Your father sent word, asking for help. He had been a Ranger, so he could handle himself in battle; your mother was also fairly skilled, as was Jared. But they were three against hundreds, and those hundreds were led by ten Magi. That alone had sealed their fate.

“When we received word here at the camp, the battle was already underway. There were five companies awaiting orders at the time. The command was given and class assigned: black, a rescue mission at all costs. The farm wasn’t far from here, still, traveling as fast as we could it took us nearly half an hour to arrive to their aide.

“Your parents, and Jared, were wielding their tokens like their lives depended on it. Soldiers and monsters flew through the air as the three of them cut their way through, keeping the hoard back from the cabin.

“When we arrived the Magi knew their window of opportunity was closing. As we entered the fray, the army commanded by the Magi started to retreat, but Magi don’t give up that easily. They grouped together and forced their way through the retreating ranks until they reached your father. He was one of the greatest warriors that I’ve ever seen, but ten Magi against one Ranger was too much for even the best of us, as your father was. He started to pull back.

“The other two saw him as he retreated and ran to join him. Together they stood valiantly, blocking the threshold of the little cabin, but they were tired. As their movements slowed the Magi pushed harder. Then it happened.

“One by one, the Magi cut them down. I can still remember their cries of anger and frustration ripping the air. The Magi struck again, and again; but their deaths allowed us to live.

“Even as they fell, their tokens started to consume them. The Magi had acted hastily and were trapped. The rest of us saw it coming, an immense wall of fire, earth, and water, tearing through everything it touched.

“I was too injured to run, so Ben picked me up in his arms and ran. The others were running too. As the wall approached, more and more of the Rangers disappeared. Soon we were alone. I could see the wall, feel the heat. It moved fast, too fast. Then, just as the flames were licking at Ben’s back, it vanished. As fast as it had come, it was gone. The whole thing only lasted a matter of minutes.”