The Ranger (Book 1) (3 page)

Vincent moved quickly, diving down to where the little body floated. A strange tingling sensation came over Vincent as he approached the boy, but it passed quickly.

He cut the weeds and grabbed Jace before swimming for the surface. His breath was running out. His lungs burned from the want of air. He couldn’t go any further; he opened his mouth and breathed in, just as he broke the surface. He pulled the limp body back toward the shore on the abbey’s side of the river. The strange tingling sensation came over him again, and it again passed quickly.

As soon as Vincent reached the shore he laid Jace on the ground. The boy wasn’t breathing. Vincent desperately started pounding on Jace’s chest, trying to force the water from his lungs.  The boy’s face was a deep blue.

Jace finally coughed, spitting up a lot of water, and breathed in. Vincent sighed with relief. Thomas and the other children were running down the river bank to catch up. Jace slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Vincent.

“I’m cold,” he whispered.

Vincent pulled the child close to him, trying to warm him up as he sighed in relief. He looked around, trying to figure out how far down river they had drifted. They weren’t too far from the ford.

“Is he alright?” Thomas asked as he ran up.

“Yeah,” Vincent panted, “but we should get him back to the abbey.”

Thomas handed Vincent his breastplate and sword, which he quickly buckled back on before picking up Jace.

“That’s it for today,” Thomas announced to the children, “we’re going back to the abbey now.”

The children didn’t complain as they made their way back to the road; Vincent carried Jace, who was now sleeping soundly, holding tight to Vincent. The sun was starting to drop and the travelers were starting to thin out as the group of children walked in silence back to the abbey.

Eliza, the priestess responsible for the orphanage, was waiting near the gate when they returned.

“Did everyone have a good time?” She asked with a smile. None of the children answered. She noticed Jace in Vincent’s arms, still soaking wet, and rushed over. “What happened?”

“He got swept down river,” Vincent answered. “He’s breathing but he needs healing.”

“Vincent saved him,” one of the children piped in.

“Yeah, he jumped in and pulled him out,” another one said.

“Thank you Vincent,” Eliza replied, taking the child. “We’ll make sure that he is properly cared for.” The priestess shepherded the group of children toward the abbey.

“Thomas, I’m going to get out of these wet clothes. You better go get something to eat. I’ll meet up with you later,” Vincent called to Thomas as he walked through the large central doors of the abbey that lead to the Entry Hall, as Thomas made his way to the smaller doors to the left that lead to the Great Hall.

Chapter 2: The Tournament

The Entry Hall of the abbey was enormous, rising the full three stories of the building. The floor was expertly polished white granite. Vincent felt bad for all the water he was dripping on the clean surface. He hurried through to the reception chamber as quickly as he could.

The reception chamber stood in stark contrast to the Entry Hall. The polished granite floor was the only similarity. The walls in the Entry Hall were bare stone, while the reception chamber had carved wood paneling with elegant tapestries adorning almost every surface: gifts from visiting nobles seeking to gain favour in the eyes of the Goddess. The ceiling of the Entry Hall was high and vaulting, but the ceilings in the reception chamber were low to maintain the heat from the large fireplaces in the winter. Elegant padded chairs were dispersed around the room; however, they were vacant at the moment as the nobles sat in the Great Hall for dinner.

Vincent hurried through the room. Its elegance was lost to him as he was consumed with thoughts of the events of the evening. He exited through a small door that led into the cloister in the middle of abbey. The walls of the abbey buildings towered above the small courtyard with the sanctuary on one side and the Great Hall on the other. The walls were very much like the exterior walls, plain and unadorned except for the ivy which was slowly climbing them. Many finely crafted stained-glass windows covered the walls of the sanctuary to Vincent’s right. The ground was covered with beautiful gardens of flowers of every color. A large multi-level fountain sat in the center, shooting water high into the air, a small pool of water surrounding it.

The back wall of the cloister was dominated by an alcove that led to the Great Dome, where the sacred relics of the abbey were kept. Two knights stood guard at the entrance. Vincent waved to them as he approached, but he stopped just short of them in the alcove and opened a door on the side wall revealing a stairwell that plunged into the depths below the abbey; the entrance to the dormitories of the knights in the abbey.

There were no windows in the lower levels of the abbey, and no natural light entered. Glass orbs, enchanted by the grace and blessing of Sandora and set in alcoves, provided light to the labyrinth of corridors beneath the abbey.

Vincent navigated his way unconsciously, following the same path he had followed for the past five years. It had taken him months to learn his way through the confusing tunnels. Every wall looked alike. Now the path to his room was second nature.

He opened the door to his room. It was simple, with two beds, desks and wardrobes, mirroring each other across the room. A small hour glass sat on a table between the two beds, indicating the time of day; another gift of the Goddess. A large mirror hung on the back of the door.

Vincent closed the door and started removing his ceremonial outfit. He placed his breastplate gently on his bed before pulling off his wet blue shirt. He put on a plain white undershirt. He opened his wardrobe. In the bottom there was a chest in which he stored his armour. He opened the chest and tenderly removed his chainmail shirt. He was just pulling it over his head when Thomas burst through the door. He tossed Vincent a loaf of bread and a chunk of dried meat. “You’ll need your energy if you want to do well tonight.”

“Thanks,” Vincent said, tearing into bread. “I need all the help I can get.”

“You need more ambition,” Thomas teased as he pulled off his shirt. “You have what it takes to be a great knight, you just lack the confidence.”

“Easy for you to say,” Vincent muttered. “Everything comes easy for you. I’ve had to work to get where I am.”

“Well maybe that work will pay off,” Thomas gave a sly smile. Vincent looked at him quizzically. “The Lord Abbot said that there’s a special assignment this year and they need the very best knight for it. The winner of the tournament is the likely candidate.”

“I wonder what kind of placement it is,” Vincent said pensively, a sudden sense of foreboding coming over him. He quickly shook it off. Thomas was going to win the tournament so there was no need for him to worry about it. He pulled a blue tunic out of the wardrobe and pulled it over his mail. The shirt that accompanied his ceremonial outfit, with its billowing sleeves, was not fit for combat. The tunic was much closer fitting and allowed for greater ease in wielding a sword. It too bore the hand of Sandora on its front.

“Whatever it is, I bet you get it,” Thomas grumbled. “You’re the favorite.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if
you
got it,” Vincent shot back, surprised at Thomas’s sudden lack of confidence. “You’ve always been better than me with weaponry.”

“Except for giocapugni and the bow,” Thomas cut in. “You’re just as good as anyone when it comes to giocapugni, and if they do archery I’m sunk.”

Giocapugni was an ancient form of unarmed combat that the academy had adapted for the use of weapons. It was a traditional form of combat in Pallà, and most children grew up practicing it, even the children at the abbey orphanage were taught the fundamental. Thomas, who had grown up outside of Pallà, did not have this background when he came to the academy. He had had a much harder time learning the skills.

“Well, then pray they don’t have either,” Vincent laughed as he tied on his two swords.

In ceremonial attire all knights were required to carry a sword and shield. However, combat attire allowed knights to carry their weapon of choice. Vincent preferred to carry twin short swords, whereas Thomas wielded a broad, double headed axe.

“You ready?” Thomas asked, tying his long red hair behind his head.

“I was born ready,” Vincent laughed, failing in his attempt to sound confident. “Let’s get moving,” Vincent added looking at the hourglass, “it’s nearly sunset. We don’t want to be late.”

They walked silently through the abbey on their way to the training field, where the event would be held, and exited through the main abbey doors. They turned right, following the same path Vincent had followed that morning. It took them around the side of the abbey to the small gate on the back wall.

The abbey grounds were surrounded by thick forest, but at the back of the abbey, just outside the walls, a large clearing had been formed. It was there that the knights of the academy trained.

The field itself was well kept, with very little to indicate its purpose. A small shed built against the wall housed the stairs to the academy’s hall.

The sun had almost dipped below the western mountains as they walked through the small gate leading to the training field. The sight that met them this time was significantly different than what they were used to. The perimeter of the field was lined with benches; rows and rows of benches. On the front row, right in the middle, there were six large throne-like chairs. Torches marked the edge of the field. Many of the benches were already full: people had traveled from the five other abbeys to see this event.

A few of the other new knights had already arrived and were sitting on a bench just to the left of the thrones. Thomas pointed toward them. Vincent nodded and they started walking to where they would sit.

A loud crash from behind startled them. Vincent turned just in time to see Jan, another initiate, trip over a bench and fall flat on his face while his training companion Mark stood and laughed.

“It’s not
that
funny,” Jan grumbled as he got up and brushed himself off. The four of them continued to the bench where the other six initiates sat conversing excitedly about the upcoming event. Vincent had just sat down when Auna walked over to the group.

“Is everyone ready for tonight?” he asked. There was a murmur of yes. “I hope you are, for your sakes. Your performance tonight will determine your futures as knights.” Auna cast an appraising glance down the line of initiates, a few of them shifted uncomfortably as his gaze crossed them.

“You will all be fine,” Auna finished with a smile. “Vincent, could I have a word?” Auna took Vincent by the arm without another word and led him a short distance away. “How are you feeling?” he asked at length.

“Good,” Vincent lied. He felt like he was about to throw up.

“There is nothing to worry about,” Auna said reassuringly. “You have what it takes to win. I’ve know it since you first came to the abbey. You’re like your father in every way. He would be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

“Wait,” Vincent said, shocked, “you knew my father?”

“We were good friends,” Auna replied fondly. “You are more like him than you know.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I had my reasons, and one day, I may tell you. Suffice it to say it was for your protection. Now, do your father proud, and win this tournament. I believe in you Vincent,” Auna whispered with a wink before returning Vincent to the group of initiates and taking his seat to the immediate left of the thrones.

Vincent and the others went back to talking excitedly between themselves. The benches were quickly filling. Vincent laughed as Jan started to explain his theory as to what was going to happen that evening, but his story was cut short as a sudden hush fell over the assembled crowd. Vincent turned in his seat to see four Valkyrie, the heavily armed, female counterpart to the knights and personal bodyguards to the abbots of the other abbeys, exit the small gate from the grounds of the abbey. They stood just outside the gate as ten more followed leading the six abbots of Pallà.

Vincent’s eyes quickly fell on Abbot Markov, Grand Abbot of Pallà. He resided in a special chamber below the Great Dome. He was an old man with a long white beard and a care-worn face. Age had bent his withered frame and he leaned heavily on the ornate staff he used as a walking stick. However, it was his eyes that caught Vincent’s attention; they were a deep green and seemed to burn with the fire of youth.

This had always puzzled Vincent, just as Auna puzzled him. There was some mysterious connection between the two of them; but he didn’t have time to contemplate the mysteries of the old man as something else caught his attention. Walking next to the abbot was a man he had never seen before.

There was nothing overly unusual about the man; he was tall, just a little taller than Vincent, with thick, unkempt, black hair. A thick white scar cut across his tanned face from just above his left eye to just below his left ear. The man’s eyes were just like Master Auna’s, a deep, fiery red on white. He was dressed as a Knight of Sandora, but his tunic was black and he wore a black cloak around his shoulders like a cape. He also wore a very worn looking pair of leather gloves. It was not unusual to see knights wearing different tunics as every abbey had its own colors, but Vincent had not seen a knight wearing a black tunic since he first came to the abbey. Black tunics were worn by the Rangers who brought him there. Rangers generally didn’t come to the abbey, at least if they did, no one ever saw them. He didn’t know why, but he had the strange feeling that he had seen the man somewhere before.  A white hilted sword was tied to his waist; much like the one Auna had been wearing earlier that day.

The abbots took their seats in the thrones set for them. The strange man sat just to their right. A murmur of excitement grew from the crowd; but Abbot Markov only remained seated for a moment as the other abbots settled before rising again.