The Ranger's Path: The King's Ranger Book 2 Page 2

  Anne’s eyes fluttered open, and she scowled at him. “You stayed up all night?”

  “I did,” he said. He ignored her look and added, “If you plan to take their exhaustion each evening, then you need your rest.”

  Anne flipped back her bedroll and staggered to her feet.

  “Eat quick. We’ve a long way to go,” advised Rew.

  Rew tossed the thick branch up into the air in front of them, and a sputtering, crackling stream of blue sparks raced after it, flashing a pace to the left of the flying wood in a disorganized, curving flight. The sparks blinked out a dozen paces beyond the branch before it thumped unharmed onto the dirt road in front of them.

  “Not bad,” said Anne.

  “More sparks than lightning,” remarked Zaine.

  “I missed,” groused Cinda.

  “You missed,” acknowledged Rew, “but you flung high magic. Your aim is something we can work on, but we can’t do it until you’re able to consistently release your talent. You’re doing well, lass. Don’t get discouraged.”

  Anne, walking beside him, glanced at Rew out of the corner of her eye and offered him a knowing smile. Encourage the children, she’d told him. He would do the best he could.

  “I’m not sure those sparks would have done anything had you hit the branch anyway,” said Zaine.

  They kept walking, and Rew stooped as they passed the branch he’d thrown. He picked it up and hefted it. “Your bow, Zaine.”

  “What?” asked the thief.

  “Let’s see how you fare.”

  Frowning, the girl unslung her bow off her shoulder and awkwardly stretched the string between the two ends. The party kept walking, and she had to hurry to catch up to them. “Stop for a minute?”

  Rew shook his head. “We didn’t stop for Cinda.”

  “Well, I can’t shoot while I’m walking!” cried Zaine.

  Rew looked at her and did not respond.

  “Fine,” barked the thief. She drew a feathered shaft from her quiver and nocked the arrow. “I’m ready.”

  Rew tossed the branch back into the air, throwing it high and slow so that it flew on an easy arc.

  Zaine’s bow twanged, and her arrow streaked well in front of the branch and soared down the highway. It landed in the tall grass beside the road several seconds before the branch came back to earth and two dozen paces past where the branch landed. The thief cursed, but no one commented as she strode ahead to search the grass for her arrow.

  Rew winked at Cinda, but the noblewoman frowned back at him.

  Two days outside of Falvar, and the girls were ignoring each other when they could, tolerating each other when they could not. Despite nearly opposite backgrounds, they’d grown close during the flight from Yarrow to Falvar, but that relationship had been shattered when it had been revealed Zaine had been part of the plot to betray Baron Fedgley. She’d offered profuse apologies, she’d explained she didn’t know what was going to happen, and she’d declared she wouldn’t rest until she could make it right, but words only went so far. Cinda still recalled the grisly death of her mother and her father’s outraged confusion as he was flung through Alsayer’s open portal. Cinda’s parents had been killed and captured, and it wouldn’t have been possible without the role performed by Zaine.

  Rew couldn’t tell what the noblewoman thought of the thief’s apologies, but he appreciated that the two of them had avoided the hair pulling and screeching he’d been worried was going to happen.

  When they paused to eat their midday meal, Rew caught Anne away from the girls and whispered, “At least they’re being quiet, not wrestling each other in the dirt, right?”

  Anne rolled her eyes and responded, “There will be frost between them until they’re forced together again. When we find Raif or when we find trouble, they’ll come together.”

  Rew frowned. “You think? If someone betrayed me like that, I’m not certain I’d handle it as calmly as Cinda has. I certainly wouldn’t forget anytime soon.”

  “Zaine betrayed Cinda, but given the turmoil in the noblewoman’s life, Zaine is also her only friend. Not to mention, Zaine is the only hope Cinda has of recovering her father,” reminded Anne. “And of course, without Cinda, what chance does Zaine have of a better life? She can’t approach any of the thieves’ guilds in the duchy now, and how would a girl her age, coinless and alone, travel to anywhere outside of these lands? They’ve reasons to dislike each other, but they also have reasons to cling to each other tighter than ever.”

  Rew grunted.

  Anne smiled. “Love and hate, it’s not the first time a relationship between two girls has been defined that way, Rew. Give it time, and you will see.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” muttered the ranger.

  “You never had a sister?”

  Shifting uncomfortably, Rew responded, “Not really.”

  “A brother, then?”

  “Not… not like you mean.”

  Anne pursed her lips and raised a hand as if she’d ask more, but she dropped it. She knew some of his story; enough of his story that she must have realized delving into further detail was dangerous. Instead of probing, she offered, “I’m here to talk, if you ever want to. You don’t have to tell me all, but maybe if you told me some…”

  He nodded his thanks but did not respond. He looked over to where the two girls were sitting on opposite ends of a fallen tree trunk. They were both eating the hard biscuits and salted ham the party had brought from Falvar, and both were staring straight ahead, barely acknowledging each other.

  “They’ll be fine,” assured Anne.

  “We should get moving soon,” advised Rew.

  Anne adjusted the shawl on her shoulders and said, “I’ll tell them. They’re already complaining of blisters and sore legs, but they know we can’t catch Raif unless we move faster than him. If we get moving, at least we’ll be a bit warmer.” She paused and then asked, “Have you seen signs of his passing?”

  Rew shrugged. “I’ve seen signs on the road, but none I can be certain were the lad’s.”

  “If he didn’t come this way…”

  “He did. He came this way, and we’ll catch him.”

  2

  Later that afternoon, as they were still hiking along the flat highway, Rew held up a hand to slow them. Beside the road, the tall grass was bent. He leaned over, peering at the bowed and broken blades. He looked up and down the border of the road. Decades of traffic had compacted the soil into a hard surface where no vegetation grew. He couldn’t discern anything from the scuffs in the dirt, but it was obvious someone had walked away from the path.

  “One person left the road here,” he said. Then, carefully, he followed the trail.

  It was not difficult. He suspected any of their party could have done it. Someone had stomped through the grass one hundred paces off the road to the edge of a forest. There, just short of the trees, Rew found signs that the person had laid down, tossing and turning, flattening the grass. They’d also collected an armful of wood, arranged it into a pyramid, and failed to light it.

  “Raif,” surmised Rew.

  “How do you know?” questioned Cinda, glancing around as if her brother might be lurking just out of sight, waiting for them.

  “What other traveler wouldn’t know how to light a proper campfire?” asked Rew. “He stormed out of Falvar in a rage in the middle of the night, and I suspect forgot to bring anything to start a fire with. If he forgot food as well, this chase may be shorter than we expected.”

  The others watched as the ranger methodically circled the camp, looking for additional signs, but there were few.

  “He did bring something to eat, at least. There are crumbs here from a loaf of bread, but I don’t think there’s anything else we can learn. At the very least, it’s confirmation we’re on the right track.”

  Cinda wondered aloud, “How far ahead is he?”

  “He camped here last night, so two-thirds of a day,” replied Rew. “He could be m
oving faster than us, but he’s not far out of reach. Look there, that’s the impression from where he set down his pack. It’s small, which makes me think he brought minimal supplies. He’ll eventually have to find food, and that will slow him down.”

  Cinda nodded, looked around the group, and said, “Let’s go get him, then.”

  They began hiking, but an hour later, Rew called for another pause. They were on a straight stretch of road, the river five hundred paces to one side, the edge of a forest five hundred paces on the other. The travel was easy, the scenery bucolic. Because of the recent trouble in Falvar, they’d seen few other travelers. Those that they had seen were merchants guiding long trains of wagons or the individual coaches favored by the wealthy. All of them were headed to Falvar. No one stopped to speak to them, and they didn’t bother waving their fellow travelers down. It was possible someone had seen Raif, but they didn’t need word of a missing nobleman traveling alone getting out.

  The land between the Falvar and Spinesend wasn’t any more dangerous than other highways within the kingdom, but any time control passed from one noble’s domain to another, there was risk; a risk of soldiers during hostile times, a risk of bandits during peaceful ones. With the Investiture beginning, Rew had no idea what to expect. Was Duke Eeron involved in the capture of Baron Fedgley, and would he have soldiers on the road? Would bandits take advantage of the confusion and hop back and forth between the two territories, raiding inadequately protected travelers?

  There’d been no time for bandits to have established themselves following the attack on Falvar, but such men were like roaches. They had an incredible sense of opportunity. The attack might have been days ago, but for months, the protections of the baron would have been drawing back as he dedicated his resources to the barrowlands where he was harvesting wraiths for Prince Valchon. Bandits, with the unnatural senses such men had for weakness, could have already been moving into the gap for weeks.

  Rew, looking at the grass along the highway in front of him, shuddered at the thought of Prince Valchon and the rage the man would feel when he realized Alsayer had betrayed him, taken the wraiths, and the baron. Bandits were hardly a concern beside that. Rew frowned and stared curiously at a small spot in the dirt.

  “What are we looking at?” wondered Zaine. “Did Raif relieve himself here earlier this morning?”

  Anne shushed the girl, and Rew paid her little mind. He turned, studying the grass on the river side of the highway then crouched, looking closely at the thin, emerald green blades.

  “I don’t see anything,” complained Zaine.

  Rew drew his bone-handled hunting knife and used the tip of the blade to move grass aside, peering at the soil underneath.

  The women, even Zaine, were quiet behind him. The thief had spoken true. She wouldn’t see anything. It wasn’t like the grass that Raif had disturbed the night before. This was something else. Rew worried what it portended. He kept moving the grass aside, looking at the dirt underneath, until he found what he’d been looking for. Small impressions of a clawed foot that had padded lightly across the earth, barely disturbing it, hardly leaving a visible trace, but everyone and everything left some mark upon the world.

  Rew stood and sheathed his hunting knife.

  Zaine raised her hands, palms to the sky as if seeking answers from above. “Well?”

  “Look there,” instructed Rew, pointing down.

  “At…?” asked Zaine. The other two women remained silent, but he could see their skeptical expressions.

  “Rangers you are not,” he said. Then, he walked to the far side of the road and tapped his boot on the dirt. “This discoloration, the dots where it’s darker, see that? That’s water that fell hours ago. You can tell from the pattern of the droplets the direction of movement. Something came from the river, crossed the road, and headed toward the forest. It moved with incredible stealth, and if it wasn’t for those droplets of water, I never would have spotted the tracks.”

  “An animal?” wondered Cinda.

  “An animal, but one that should not be here,” said Rew. “These tracks appear to be from a northern river otter, but we’re not in the north, are we?”

  The women blinked back at him, not comprehending.

  “The otters are native to the Northern Province and thrive there,” explained Rew. “They’re larger and more cunning than the variety you’d find in the eastern province, and for centuries, the northerners have trained them to perform simple tasks.”

  “You think a trained river otter crossed this road several hours ago but are worried because these creatures are native to the Northern Province?” questioned Cinda, looking between the ranger and their other companions. “And you’re gathering all of that based on a few droplets of water on the highway?”

  Rew nodded and did not respond.

  “How does that help us catch up to my brother?” asked the noblewoman.

  Rew sighed and gestured for them to continue. “It doesn’t, I hope. The Investiture has started, lass, and we need to keep our eyes open for any and all signs. Anything that is unusual is as like to be trouble as it is not. And trouble is something we cannot afford to deal with if we’re going to catch Raif before he reaches Spinesend.”

  “Fair enough,” muttered Cinda.

  “If we encounter a river otter, should we hide behind you?” asked Zaine, failing at a valiant attempt to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  “It’s not the otter we need worry about, lass. It’s the otter’s master,” said Rew, ignoring the jest in her tone. “And yes, if we encounter a river otter and its master, get behind me.”

  He opened his mouth to add more but stopped. Rew had met several men and women who knew the secrets of taming the wild creatures of the world, but only one of them had the ability to travel quickly from the Northern Province to the Eastern. He cringed at the thought and forced it away.

  Zaine drew herself up, smacked her fist against her chest, and cried, “As you command, Senior Ranger.”

  He shook his head at her antics and started walking without comment, the others falling in behind him. Rew reminded himself that she was young and brimming with the vinegar her harsh life had filled her with. She didn’t understand. She wasn’t ready for… Rew grimaced, thinking of what Anne had said the day before. The empath had been right, of course. The children weren’t ready for what was coming. He didn’t agree, though, that there was anything to be done about it. The Investiture was happening now, and it was already too late to prepare.

  They hiked on, the road easy, but the girls were wheezing and blowing after another hour, unused to the constant, relentless pace. Even Anne began flagging, her soft-booted feet dragging in the dirt. She had demanded he push them to the brink, and he’d conceded the logic of doing so, but from the labored sounds of breathing, he judged the women weren’t far from that brink. He decided to call a halt. A couple of hundred paces off the road, toward the river, he’d spotted a giant willow that would provide them excellent shade and cover. If the towering, puffy white clouds drifting above the willow brought rain in the night, they would appreciate shelter. The willow was close to the river, and all of them could use a dunk to wash off the dust from the road as well. Finally, the low, gently-swaying branches of the willow would help to contain the light of their fire. It was the best spot to camp that he’d seen so far that day, and it would be foolish to pass it by.

  The girls collapsed like grass in a thunderstorm as soon as they made it beneath the branches. Grinning at each other, Anne and Rew made a rough camp and started the campfire. It seemed they weren’t the only ones who’d recognized the attractiveness of the site, and there was already a well-used fire pit bounded by fist-sized rocks. In moments, Rew had a merry blaze growing in the circle, and he stood and stretched.

  He looked to the girls, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “You don’t think we’re done for the day, do you?”

  “Done?” asked Zaine, pointing at the fire. “If we’re to keep hiking, wh
y’d you build a fire?”

  “Not hiking, no,” Rew acknowledged, “but I think it best if we keep up your arms and spell practice. Yesterday wasn’t enough. You need to practice daily. We don’t know what we’ll find in the days ahead, but the danger isn’t over. Alsayer warned me, remember? But I don’t need that traitorous bastard’s word to know you’re still at risk from the princes, the thieves’ guilds, and I can only imagine who else.”

  Zaine swallowed and then cursed. “King’s Sake, the thieves’ guild. I didn’t even think of them. Surely they’d…”

  Rew snorted. “They’d be understanding that most of the Falvar guild is either captured or dead? In Spinesend, they knew your mission, lass. I don’t think you ought to expect a hug and a warm bed when we arrive there.”

  Grimly, Cinda staggered to her feet. She looked down at the thief. “He’s right, Zaine. Whatever is ahead of us, we’re better off if we can defend ourselves.”

  Groaning, the slender thief rose, and Rew led them out into the grass between the willow and the river. There was a log there where a tree had fallen during some long-ago storm. Rew went about collecting branches and sticks and then stuck them down into the soft, half-rotten wood. In moments, he had a dozen tiny targets.

  “We’ll start at twenty paces. See what you can hit,” he said.

  “Those sticks are the width of my finger!” protested Zaine.

  At the same time, Cinda complained, “I haven’t thrown a spell half that far!”