The Ranger (Book 1) (8 page)

Vincent clumsily rolled out of the way, grabbing the sword of one of his fallen comrades, and slashing at the beast’s leg, cutting a large gash.

The creature let out an angry cry as Vincent stumbled to his feet. It lashed out in rage, charging wildly as it swung its heavy mace. Vincent had to move quickly to avoid its deadly blow, but his broken ribs were slowing him down.

They danced around the fountain, Vincent trying to keep it between the two of them. Suddenly the beast roared in rage again and crashed through the pool of water towards him. The mace swung, hitting the fountain in the center of the pool, shattering it.

Vincent managed to dodge again, swinging his own weapon in response, hitting the beast in the side, cutting another deep gash. He quickly moved away from the thrashing creature.

The beast roared and charged once more. It had slowed considerably due to its wounds. This time, Vincent stood his ground. He dodged the mace and stabbed at the beast’s throat.

The roar died as the blade found its mark. The beast, however, continued its charge, plowing into Vincent; burying him beneath it as it fell.

It took some time for Vincent to pull himself out from under the heavy body of his foe. The force of the minotaur falling on him had only worsened his difficulty breathing. Every breath was painful and felt like knives digging into his chest. He left the blade lodged in the creature’s throat and went in search of the swords he had lost when the minotaur had hit him the first time. He found the blades on the other side of the cloister; fortunately, they were undamaged.

Adrenalin was pumping through his veins. His breathing was still tight, but the pain was less sharp. The thrill of battle was taking over. Vincent embraced his token. He pulled some fire from a burning window with his token and sent it flying at the corpse of the minotaur.

He surveyed the cloister once more. The doorway to the reception hall had collapsed. The only remaining entrance to the abbey was through the sanctuary. There, the door had been knocked down and flames poured through the opening. Vincent ran into the burning abbey, batting flames aside as he went.

The sanctuary too stood desecrated with the bodies of minotaurs, knights, and other creatures Vincent didn’t recognize. He ran for the door connecting the sanctuary to the reception chamber. The reception chamber showed obvious signs of battle, with bodies of both men and beasts littering the floor. The room was wreathed in flames.

He rushed on to the entry hall where he found a few knights and Valkyrie battling a group of minotaurs. The knights and Valkyrie were sorely outnumbered and were being pushed back quickly. Vincent entered the fray, hacking with all his remaining strength. Minotaurs fell left and right under his blade.

More kept flowing through the open main door. The knights were falling fast. Vincent pulled the flames from the reception hall with his token and sent them flying at the wave of minotaurs charging through the door. The blast sent them rocketing back out, temporarily stopping the flow.

He gathered what little strength he had left and continued through the main door. Outside, the battle raged on. The remaining forces from the abbey were fighting a losing battle against what seemed like an endless stream of minotaurs and other creatures that kept pouring through the gates. Vincent couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Just minutes earlier he had thought the minotaur a myth. Now, he was faced with tens of thousands of them, destroying all that he held dear.

The anger started mounting in Vincent again and he raised his sword once more, preparing to fight. Suddenly, he noticed two people fighting at the very centre of the chaos. Master Auna was battling a giant cloaked figure.

Vincent forgot everything else. He ran through the fighting, narrowly avoiding several swings from both knight and monster as he recklessly pushed his way through, trying to come to the aid of his teacher and friend.

As Vincent approached, Auna noticed him and paused a moment to shout something that Vincent couldn’t make out over the noise of the battle. His foe quickly took advantage of his lowered defenses and struck, stabbing him through the heart.

Anger boiled inside Vincent as he watched his beloved teacher’s lifeless body crumple to the ground.

Vincent ran on, filled with rage. The cloaked figure turned to face Vincent, freezing him in his tracks. The figure’s face was shadowed by a drawn hood. Vincent fought his fear and charged again, sword raised. Before he could strike, a hand wearing a heavy gauntlet shot from the figure, faster than Vincent could see, knocking the sword aside, shattering the blade.

The figure moved again, punching Vincent in the stomach, knocking him flat on his back. He stomped his foot down hard on Vincent’s chest and raised his sword high into the air, ready to strike.

“And so dies the hope of Sandora,” the voice echoed like the growl of a wolf from the shadow of the hood. The voice did more to terrify Vincent than anything else he has seen; he knew that voice.

The blade started to fall. Vincent stared up at the cloaked figure. The hood of the cloak was suddenly blown back.

Vincent woke with a start. A stone ceiling was above him. He sat upright and looked around, not daring to believe what he was seeing.

He was in his room, comfortably sitting in his own bed. Thomas was still in his bed, snoring softly. Vincent quickly checked himself over: no cuts, no burns, and no bruises. Nothing. He was fine.

He fell back into his bed and let out a sigh. It had all been a dream. Vincent closed his eyes once again, but sleep didn’t come. The face from under the hood haunted him. It was Thomas’ face.

Chapter 5: The Journey Begins

“Vincent!” Master Auna’s voice called. He knocked hard on the door. “Vincent, are you awake yet?” Master Auna’s voice again, slightly more irritated this time.

“Vincent!” Auna called once more. This time the door opened and he stuck his head into the room. He shook his head disapprovingly at Vincent lying in his bed. “Hurry up and get ready. Master Silva wishes to leave as soon as possible.”

“Alright,” Vincent said, not really hearing Auna’s voice as he thought about what he had dreamed. He had been up most of the night, reliving it in his head. It had all seemed so real, all of it: the smells, the monsters, the pain, everything.

Auna turned his attention on Thomas’ motionless form. “That goes for you too, Sir Thomas.” Auna closed the door hard. Thomas jolted awake with a grunt at the sound.

“It wasn’t me, I swear,” he said, disoriented as he woke.

Vincent got up and stretched, while Thomas moaned and rolled over. Vincent shook his head with amusement as he watched his friend groggily pull himself out of bed. He went about methodically packing the few remaining things in his room into his travel pack. Only a few shirts and a small, worn, wooden sword remained. Vincent paused before he gently placed the sword in the pack. His father had given it to him for his fifth birthday, just hours before he had been killed. A fine pattern of rolling flames was carved on the blade.

He grabbed the new tunic and looked at it, admiring how new it felt. It was stiff, black-tanned leather with a handprint embossed over the heart. It also had no sleeves.

“I guess it’s meant to be worn with chainmail under it,” Vincent said, looking mournfully at the pile of mail on the floor. He picked it up; it was melted and distorted beyond use.

“Then use your new shirt of mail,” Thomas said, pulling on his own mail. “It’s there on your chair.”

Vincent wasn’t going to question this fortunate turn of events and went on dressing. He tied his swords around his waist, so they both sat on his left hip. Lastly, he threw on his new black travel cloak, and surveyed himself in the mirror.

“Vincent,” Master Auna’s voice again, sounding even more irritated, “are you ready yet? Master Silva is not a patient man.”

“I’m coming,” Vincent responded as he opened the door, tossing his pack onto his shoulder as he went. As he stepped into the hallway, he stopped and turned to look at Thomas, who was still in the room.

“This is it,” Vincent said quietly, “We’re not a team anymore.”

“For now,” Thomas replied. “I’ll be joining you soon, and we’ll be a team again; you’ll see.”

“If I get the chance, I’ll come visit you in Spacco,” Vincent said with a smile. “You can tell me about all the adventures you’re sure to have there.” Vincent dropped his bag, returned to the room and hugged his friend. “Thank you for everything. I don’t think I would have made it through without you. May the Goddess watch over you.”

“You’ll need the Goddess’ protection more than I will,” Thomas answered, obviously trying hard to fight his bitterness. He clapped Vincent on the shoulder. “You’ll be a great Ranger.”

“Vincent!” Auna’s voice echoed down the hall.

“I’ve got to go now,” Vincent said, rushing out of the room and picking up his pack. “I’ll see you around.” Vincent turned and rushed down the hall to catch up with Auna.

When Vincent finally caught up with Auna, he was standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the abbey, arms crossed and a look of severe disapproval painted on his face. “If you’re quite ready, Master Silva would like to leave,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m ready.”

“Well it certainly doesn’t look it,” Auna remarked. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not as much as I should have,” Vincent admitted. “I had… a troubling dream.”

The disapproval vanished from Auna face and was replaced by a look of concern. “What kind of dream?”

Vincent recounted the dream as Auna listened intently. When Vincent finished, Auna was silent for some time. At length he spoke, obviously choosing his words carefully. “Vincent, you must be mindful of your dreams. It is not uncommon for those with the token of fire to have visions. They see things that were, that are and sometimes, things that may yet be. Dreams can be warnings, and often there is something to be learned from them. Then again, sometimes they are just dreams. It takes a great deal of practice to tell the difference, so if you ever have a dream like this again I want you to tell Master Silva.”

“I will,” Vincent replied. “But this dream… it was just a dream wasn’t it?”

“That will take some time to discern,” a voice said from behind. Vincent turned to see Master Silva standing behind him. Vincent was startled as he hadn’t heard him coming. “But either way, we need to get moving. We’ve got a long way to travel today. The earlier we start the better.” He walked past Vincent and continued up the stairs.

Vincent started to follow, but Master Auna stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You take care of yourself out there,” he said, concern evident in his voice. “So much depends on you.”

“I will,” Vincent whispered in reply. “Thanks for everything.”

Vincent continued up the stairs, trying to hide the sudden loneliness he felt. Silva was at the far end of the cloister when Vincent exited the stairs. He hurried to follow, but Silva disappeared into the abbey before he could catch him.

Vincent followed him into the abbey, but he lost sight of him once again in the crowd of people in the reception hall; all bustling around in their preparations to return to their abbeys. He eventually made his way to the entry hall, where he found Master Silva waiting for him.

“Have you said your goodbyes?” Silva asked, his voice cold as steel.

“Yes,” Vincent replied. He barely got the word out before he was cut off by Silva.

“Good, let’s go then.” Without another word he turned and walked out the giant carved doors of the abbey into the early morning light, a regal sway in his step. Vincent followed.

They walked out the main abbey gates and turned left down the road, heading westward, toward the mountains. The forest grew thick on both sides of the road, adding to the shadow of the early morning. There were no travelers out yet and the road felt empty, even the birds weren’t singing.

They traveled in silence. Silva’s face showed no emotion, his steely eyes darting from shadow to shadow. They continued down the empty road. The sun was now climbing higher in the sky, and the summer heat was starting to set in. They passed the ford in the river where the children had gone swimming the day before. A strange feeling came over Vincent as he crossed the river, realizing that he had not been that far from the abbey since he had gone to live there. His skin tingled as they came out of river on the far bank.

“Life as a Ranger is very different from what you’re used to, Vincent,” Silva said abruptly, breaking the silence. “Knights generally stay around the abbey to which they are assigned and help in that community. Rangers, on the other hand, have no boundaries. You travel a great deal and see a lot of the old kingdom. As a result, your combat skills will need to be finely honed at all times.” Master Silva seemed more sympathetic than he had at the abbey. “You will be expected to follow a very strict training schedule every day. The first three months will be particularly difficult for you as you are greatly inexperienced in real combat; experience that normally takes years to accumulate. Usually a knight needs at least five years of experience in high combat zones to even be considered for acceptance to the Rangers. You have no experience, so pay attention to those who do; you’ll learn a great deal.” Vincent nodded numbly as he listened.

“In fact,” Silva said, a smile creeping across his face, “I think we’ll start your training now. Try to keep up.” Silva darted away down the road. Vincent couldn’t help but smile as he sped after him.

They ran for about ten minutes before Silva stopped. He turned to Vincent, who was trying to catch his breath. A broad smile now covered Silva’s face.

“Congratulations, Vincent,” he said, a jubilant tone to his voice, “You’re a Ranger now. There are a few things that you need to understand.”

“Like what?” Vincent asked, curious.

“It was not by chance that you won that tournament, Vincent. You have been chosen, marked, and therefore you were meant to win.”

“What do you mean, I was meant to win?” Vincent asked uncomfortably.