A Ranger From Adamnar

“What I can’t figure,” Tulan said in a whisper to Alana at the long dinner table, “is why there was any question over your advancement.”

“Yeah,” Grace chimed in, “You’re better than all of us by far. It’s not much fun for us with you around.” As soon as she said it she regretted it. “I meant we can’t really learn much while we’re sparring you. You’re just too fast.”

Alana just stared down at her plate. Her moodiness lately had all her friends confused. Waylan had recommended her for advancement after just five months with him. Few students ever made it out of his class in just five months.

“This is the biggest news to hit this place in a hundred years,” Shiri said.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Tulan said. “Besides, this shouldn’t be news at all. No one is supposed to know who tests and who doesn’t.”

“Yeah, but how can you keep this kind of news secret?” Shiri asked.

“Some loose mouthed Ranger just couldn’t keep normal news to himself,” Grace said.

Alana looked up from her plate and immediately regretted it. Many of the other trainees and several of the Rangers in the dining hall were looking at her. She immediately looked back down at her plate again. She got up from her uneaten dinner and left the table.

“Hey, where are you going?” Tulan asked.

“I need some quiet,” Alana said without looking at him. She turned and left the dining hall. As she walked out she heard Shiri say, “You’d think she’d be more proud to be on course to tie the best Ranger trainee record ever.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. She believed she didn’t deserve to be promoted from Waylan’s class. She stared angrily at the ground as she walked back to her barracks. She didn’t even feel like running. She considered going to the temple but didn’t know which would be worse, a room full of bright eyed young trainees asking her a thousand questions or Chief Priest Bruny trying to console her. She believed she didn’t deserve consolation for what she had done.

“Congratulations, Alana,” a Ranger called over to her from across the courtyard. She didn’t answer or even look at him. She quickened her pace.

When she arrived at her barracks she stared at her bunk and walked quickly down the bay towards it. She didn’t answer any of the greetings or well wishes she got along the way. She sat on her own bunk and looked at Ciaran’s empty bunk. Ciaran deserved to be a Ranger more than she did, Alana thought. Ciaran had never nearly killed another Ranger.

She briefly thought Waylan was advancing her just to get rid of her. She lay there on her bunk staring at the empty bunk above. Nata was out running with her training group.

None of the other trainees enjoyed sparring with her any more. She was too quick. They couldn’t hit her. When Waylan would goad them into attacking or shout them into action, Alana would counter any attack they sent her way and usually disarm them or knock them to the ground. Waylan sparred with her more than all the other students combined.

He even held a special one on one class for her after the main class was done before the noon-day meal. These last two weeks before the testing, Alana had taken to asking that lesson to be longer and longer so she wouldn’t have to go to the noon-day meal with everyone else. She would arrive in the dining hall as the other students were leaving. Waylan no longer told her she was late in getting back to class from lunch. She took a long lunch and wandered into class an hour late.

Usually when Waylan and Alana sparred, everyone else stopped. Several other Rangers took time off from their schedules to watch the private lessons. Waylan was teaching her how to string together longer and longer combinations of sword play. They often fought for five to ten minutes swinging, parrying, blocking and moving without stop, and without landing a single blow. At the beginning of the last week, Rangers and other trainees began skipping lunch to watch the training session, and then go with Alana to lunch late. At the beginning of the week, applause broke out whenever Alana got a good hit on Waylan, but by the end of the week, applause broke out if either of them could get a good solid hit. Of course Waylan still beat her in the end.

All of the accolades and attention just made Alana angrier. She no longer spoke to anyone and always tried to eat alone. If anyone spoke to her she asked them to leave her alone. The only trainee who had yet to say anything to her, other than the occasional, ‘Get out of my way runt,’ was Laren, who, for all Alana could tell, wanted as little to do with her now as she ever did. Right now, Alana liked that just fine.

Near the end of the second week since the leak, about half way through the morning lesson, as Alana was pounding Tulan into the dirt yet again, Waylan shouted, “Enough! Alana, walk with me.” And he walked out of the arena towards the front gate. Alana took the last weapon Tulan had away from him, dropped it on the ground, sheathed her own weapons and walked after Waylan without even saying goodbye or giving the customary head bow after sparring. Tulan just stared after her, visibly hurt.

Alana jogged slightly to catch up with Waylan. He walked at a brisk pace out the front gate into the forest. She walked to the left, her legs moving quickly to keep up with his long stride. When they were out of earshot of the stronghold he began running hard. They ran together for the better part of an hour, straight south.

In no particular place, Waylan stopped. When Alana stopped, he turned to face her, put his hands on his hips and asked, “Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

Alana got angry all over again. “Why did you advance me?” she practically shouted at him.

“My counsel is my own to keep. I do not answer to trainees.”

“If I fight angry, it’s because you have taught me to be angry,” Alana said, glaring at him.

“Have you had enough of Ranger training, trainee?” Waylan said through a sneer. He raised his right arm and pointed out into the forest. “Because if you’re all done with us you can just keep running south.”

Alana’s dagger was in her hand before she knew it had left her scabbard. She surely hadn’t drawn it. Waylan’s sword was out just as quickly, “Come on trainee, let’s see some of that world famous Candril anger.”

Alana’s jaw went slack and she loosened her grip on her dagger. She could not speak. She could barely breathe. “I..I don’t...I’m not like my father,” she whispered.

“Yes you are. You’re just like him. Despite all your uncle has done for you, when steel hits steel, you’re your father’s daughter to the bone—through and through.” Alana began to tremble. “You know the biggest problem with you Candrils? It’s not your anger. It’s not that when things get tough you replace thinking with hate. It’s that you can’t forgive—not even yourselves. Your father can’t ever forgive his father and you can’t ever forgive him,” Waylan said, his sword still at the ready.

Alana fell to her knees and dropped her dagger, put her head in her hands and wept. Waylan went down on one knee and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Alana you nearly killed me,” Waylan said softly. “If it hadn’t been for Bruny, I’d be dead right now. And do you know what?” he asked.

Alana looked up from her hands.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” he said. “You must forgive yourself for your mistakes. You will be a great Ranger some day. With a little luck you might even follow in your uncle’s footsteps.” Tears were still streaming down her face as she stared at him. “But not if you can’t forgive yourself and move on. It’s one of the things that makes Master Candril a great man. He has all the passion of a Candril tempered by the wisdom of a Novadi.” Waylan said. Alana could hear the respect in his voice.

“You have that potential,” Waylan said. “You have that choice. You must make that choice. You must choose to let go of your hatred of your father and your hatred of yourself, as your uncle has done.”

Alana bowed her head and nodded.

When Alana and Waylan returned to the practice arena, the trainees were sparring. They stopped. Alana paired up with Tulan. Grace moved over to pair up with Waylan.

“I’m sorry, Tulan,” Alana said. “I was very disrespectful.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tulan said. Alana thought he didn’t sound very forgiving. He was still looking at her with a flat expression, his weapons at the ready, waiting for Waylan to signal a start.

Alana sighed. She may have pushed him too far. He was always nice to her and lately she’d been giving him nothing but contempt, mostly what she felt about herself. Her heart wasn’t in the sparring. He disarmed her but didn’t press his advantage. He stood looking surprised.

“Don’t play easy on me, Alana,” Tulan said. “I don’t need your pity at my slowness.”

“Tulan you’re the best trainee at weapons in this class,” Alana said.

“That’s not true. You are,” Tulan said.

“So you’re not going to fight me?” Alana said.

“You’re not going to fight me,” Tulan answered. “Why should I bother?”

“You two knock it off and get to sparring,” Waylan shouted from the far side of the ring.

The group sparred for another hour before lunch. As the class broke, as was custom of late, everyone left as far away from Alana as possible. Alana thought it ironic. Outside the class, all the people who really didn’t know any better, were her best friends and closest buddies—always congratulating her and patting her on the back. In the class, however, no one wanted to be anywhere near her.

As the trainees departed the ring, Tulan was walking with Grace and Shiri. Alana jogged to catch up with them. Another trainee from Tavian’s class shouted over, “Good job Alana!”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather walk with your adoring crowd?” Tulan asked. He walked ahead away from the three young women.

“Don’t worry about him,” Shiri said. “He just has to blow off some steam. He’ll come around.”

“I had no idea he was so angry with me,” Alana said. The three continued walking towards the main dining hall. Many people congratulated her and wished her luck on the upcoming test.

“Well, you really treated him badly,” Grace said. “He really looks up to you and you made him look like a complete fool.”

The remainder of the day was without further incident. Tulan steered clear of her. They had running and early evening bow practice. Alana was abysmal at this. She could barely see the targets. After months of trying to hit targets after dusk she was still only just slightly more likely to hit the target than miss it.

That evening, Alana went to the most secluded spot she could find in the stronghold. The setting sun threw the last of its red rays over the high stone wall, where they dropped like rubies on the scattered leaves. Alana sat with her back against a large old tree. She hadn’t bothered to go to dinner. She wasn’t hungry. Tulan still wouldn’t speak to her. All of her friends were either angry at her or bewildered by her moodiness. Of course, how could they understand? She hadn’t told them anything. She had kept her shame to herself. That had only allowed it to grow larger and darker in her mind.

Waylan had been right—she hadn’t been able to forgive herself for her mistake. And today, once again, she had allowed her anger to control her, despite all the work she had done with Lord Chasimar. What was wrong with her? How did she end up like this? Uncle Iliard had always been so patient with her. Maybe Waylan was right. Maybe she was just like her father. His explosions of temper had always frightened her—even though none of them had ever been aimed at her. When had she become like him?

She didn’t know the answer to that question, but she knew one thing—if she didn’t learn how to control her anger, she could never become a Novadi warrior. She put her head in her hands and tried to think. What was missing? She had learned the meditation techniques very quickly and they had helped her focus her fighting skills.

Her head shot up out of her hands. That was it! She had focused so much on improving her fighting skills, that she had completely ignored the whole reason she sought greater control in the first place. Alana smacked her palm into her forehead and murmured to herself, “Idiot.” In addition to that, she had made the situation worse by keeping her feelings to herself instead of talking to her friends. She had been so afraid they would condemn her. True, she had gotten assurance and forgiveness from Asaeria, but it wasn’t the same thing as having the comfort of knowing that your friends loved you no matter what. “Damn, damn, damn,” she said aloud.

“Alana, is that you?”

Alana nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Ben’s voice. She really was going to have to work on paying better attention to her surroundings. She leapt to her feet and said, “Ben, I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was looking for you in the dining hall, but you weren’t there and no one knew where you were. Your friend with the red hair...what’s her name?”

“You mean Shiri?” Alana said.

“Yes, that’s her,” he replied. “She went looking for you in the barracks and when she didn’t find you there, your friends started to worry.”

“Huh,” Alana said, “I doubt it.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

She sighed. “Because I’ve been acting like a complete ass for the last month.”

“What do you mean?”

Alana shrugged. “I just have. I’ve been mean to everybody, especially Tulan. Now he won’t even talk to me. But I really can’t blame him.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it because everybody is talking about you tying Lord Berol’s record?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I don’t give a damn about Lord Berol’s record.” She saw the hurt look on Ben’s face and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It doesn’t have anything to do with Lord Berol. It’s…it’s me.” She suddenly felt like she was going to cry and most definitely did not want to do that in front of Ben. She bit her bottom lip and turned her head as she tried to steady herself.

Ben, however, was a very observant young man. He put his hand on her chin and turned her face back towards him. “Alana, tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t think you can. I don’t think anybody can.”

“I won’t know unless you tell me,” he replied.

Alana pulled away from him and slumped against the tree. “I made a huge mistake and almost killed Waylan.”

“What happened?” he asked.

She told Ben everything about her first fight with Waylan. “And then,” she went on, “I did it again today. Only this time he was ready for it. I think he was expecting it.”

“What makes you think that?” Ben asked.