A Ranger From Adamnar

Alana felt greatly refreshed when finally woke well past midday. Bruny reluctantly let her leave after he could find no good reason to keep her there. “Master Iliard asked me to tell you that he has been called away suddenly. He will come back when he can.”

“Thank you,” Alana said. She wasn’t sure if she felt disappointment or relief. As she made her way across the stronghold compound, she noticed that people would stop what they were doing to stare at her as she walked by. By the time she reached her quarters, she wished she had worn a hooded cloak.

Her rooms had been cleaned of the blood and the broken furniture and glass had been removed. Alana pulled out her satchel, backpack and saddle bags. She had formed an idea—she only hoped she could get out of the stronghold before Laren regained consciousness. For the rest of the day she stayed in her rooms and prepared for her departure. She wrote letters to Iliard, to Cadius and Falar, and last and most painful, to Laren. By the time she was done, the sun had long since set.

It was only when her stomach began to growl loudly that Alana remembered that she hadn’t eaten since the previous morning. She put away her writing materials, donned her cloak and headed for the dining hall. She pulled up her hood when she got outside her building. She made her way, ghost-like, across the compound. She stayed in the shadows and used all her Ranger abilities to avoid being seen. She slipped into the kitchen and only then pushed back her hood. Nessa was sitting by the stove stirring a giant pot of something that smelled delicious. She took a small pinch of some herbs from a jar next to her and carefully crumbled them into the pot. Without turning around she said, “Come fer a last meal, did ya? Well, go on git yerself a bowl an’ set yerself down.”

Alana’s jaw dropped a little at Nessa’s seeming prescience. Then she shook her head and got herself a bowl. Nessa filled it to the brim with piping hot stew and handed Alana a spoon. Alana ate her meal in silence, while Nessa went back to her pot. When Alana went back for a second helping, Nessa said, “Well, I’m gonna miss ya. Yer right polite fer a baron’s daughter.”

Alana looked at her in bewilderment. ’Nessa, how do you know all this?”

Nessa chuckled. “I have my ways.” She lapsed into silence again while Alana finished her second bowl of stew.

After Alana finished, she washed her bowl and spoon. “Thank you Nessa. I’m going to miss your stew.”

“Ah well, thankee.” Nessa reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a small cloth pouch. She then took her jar of herbs and poured some of its contents into the bag. She tied the pouch shut and held it out to Alana. “This’ll do ya some good on the road. Careful though, ya don’t need much. A little bit goes a long way.”

Alana took the small pouch from the cook. A lump formed in her throat when she tried to speak. She swallowed hard and finally said, “Thank you, Nessa. I will treasure this.”

“Aw now, don’t be gittin’ sentimental. It’s jest a bag o’ weeds.” Nessa said with a smile.

Alana smiled at her. “Thank you again, Nessa. I hope I’ll see you again someday.”

“Sure, if ya like.” She turned back to tend to her pot. Alana was never certain, but she thought she heard the cook sniff just a little as she stirred.

Alana didn’t want to return to her quarters. She wandered across the compound, still in the shadows. As she neared the tavern, she heard music drifting out of the open door. She remembered that a Bard had come with the caravan. Alana liked to hear the Bards, so she decided that she would go into the tavern, probably for the last time. She waited by the open door until she saw that everyone’s attention was on the Bard, then she slipped through the door and quickly made her way to the darkest part of the bar. She didn’t pull her hood back when she ordered her drink.

Alana leaned back in her chair and sipped her ale as she listened to the Bard’s lively tune. He was better than most she had heard come through the stronghold. She glanced over at him and saw several female Rangers gathered in front of him, vying for his attention. Alana looked him over. He was handsome in an unusual way, with his long, flowing auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. He was also quite well built for a Bard. Alana could see why the other women were attracted to him.

When she turned back to her drink, she nearly jumped out of her seat. Someone had taken the seat across from her without her knowing it. When he saw her reaction, he chuckled and pushed back his hood. “You are damned hard to track down, Alana.”

Alana let out an explosive breath. “Pellou? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied with a smile, “but then again, I get distinct impression that you’re getting ready to leave us.”

Alana shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask how you know.”

He smiled wickedly. “It’s probably best that way. By the way, that was some impressive skulking on your part.”

Alana frowned. “Skulking?”

“Sure,” he replied. “I saw you crossing the compound. I guess I should say I barely saw you cross the compound.. You were almost invisible to me, and Plane Travelers are better trackers than Rangers.”

“Oh,” Alana said. “I wasn’t doing anything special.”

Pellou grinned. “Uh huh.” After a short pause he asked, “So, you gonna the miss this place?”

Alana nodded and looked down. “Adamnar is my home.”

“I’ll bet you spent all day today visiting,”

“Not really,” Alana replied. She took a drink from her tankard and continued. “I spent most of the day writing letters and getting ready to leave. I’ve been to most of the places recently and the one I really want to go to would take too long to get there.”

Pellou smiled broadly. “Well, you’re in luck because I’m all about getting there.”

Alana put down her tankard, looked at him for a moment and then said, “Parsin Cliff.”

“You gonna jump?” Pellou asked.

Alana scowled at him. “That’s not funny.”

Pellou leaned forward and said quietly, “Neither is taking a dagger to your wrist. You’re way too important to die so stupidly.” Alana’s face reddened and she bowed her head. Pellou put his hand on her arm and said, “Don’t take it so hard. Now grab your tankard. You can bring it back later.” In the next instant, he teleported them to the edge of Parsin cliff.

“I come here a lot,” Pellou said. “I’ve seen a lot bigger and grander in my travels, but this one is special.” He moved over to the edge and sat down with his legs dangling over.

Alana sat down next to him and stared off into the moonlit valley below. “Pellou,” she said, turning to look into his eyes. They were still disconcerting even though she’d seen them several times. Where eyes should have been were only sockets filled with little glimpses of a starry night sky. “Why are you here?”

“I came here because of you, Alana,” Pellou said.

Alana grunted once, took a long pull from her tankard, shook her head slowly and went back to staring out over the open valley. “Haven’t you got a thousand more interesting places you could be? Aren’t you supposed to be able to visit other worlds and other planes?”

“Yeah, and I’ll get back to it soon enough,” Pellou said. “Right now, this was where I needed to be.”

“They said you came here twenty years ago,” Alana said. “Were they lying?”

“Well they are wrong, but not in a way you’d expect,” Pellou said and smiled. He pulled a small gold flask from beneath his leathers, held up his flask and screwed off the top, “I’ll be drinking this now.” He raised his eyebrows a few times quickly, took a quick gulp, and shuddered. “This is my second time at Adamnar,” he continued, “though only Waylan would remember the first time. I came back here this time because of you, but you don’t want to hear any more of this epic destiny nonsense.” He chuckled. “The real question is, why the hell are you still here?”

“I told you, Adamnar is my home.” Alana looked down for a moment then said, “You saved Adamnar. It would have been destroyed if you hadn’t come and teleported all the Outpost Rangers into the battle. You knew I would be here and you knew the T’Rundi would attack and that you could help defeat them.”

“Well, it wasn’t the T’Rundi who attacked you. They just attacked the stronghold. Someone else attacked you,” he said. “I’d give my left nut to find that guy, but he’s been evading me for a hundred years. But seriously, Alana, listen to me. You are great and you will be greater still. There is nothing left for you to learn that anyone here can teach you. You need to get off your butt and get moving. Unless I’m quite mistaken, I’m not the first person to tell you this.”

“Oh, just Asaeria,” Alana said. “But you still haven’t told me how you knew I was going to be here before I was born.”

Pellou looked as serious as she had ever seen him. He said, “Time and space is a very complex and delicate thing. It is a web you cannot tread without damaging and a story you cannot tell without changing.”

Alana shook her head and gave up. “What will you do now?” she asked after downing the last of her tankard.

“I’ll find someone else’s destiny to screw with,” He answered with an evil grin.

She looked at him and said, “Pellou, do you have any other names?”

“Yeah, but Pellou was my first, and my favorite,” he said with a smile. “Well, maybe Crazy Pellou is my favorite.”

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked.

“I go where the Staff commands. It’s not likely,” he answered, as he took another small swig from his flask and shuddered.

Alana was up before dawn. All of her belongings were packed in the saddlebags, backpack and satchel that were piled in the middle of the floor. There were two “visits” she wanted to make before she left, then she would come back for her gear. She pulled on her long coat to protect her from the pre-dawn chill and left her rooms.

The stronghold was just beginning to stir. She could see the Rangers on the walls keeping watch. One of the night patrol groups had just come in. As she passed through the center of the stronghold, she saw that the pack handlers were readying the caravan for departure. Alana picked up her pace and headed for the infirmary.

Bruny was just coming out of the temple when Alana got to the infirmary. He went to her and said, “You’re up early. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I came to see Laren. How is she?”

“The same,” he replied. “She’s sleeping peacefully and there is no trace of the curse. She will probably sleep deeply for a another day or two. It’s the best way for her heal.”

Alana nodded. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

Bruny looked at her curiously. The tone of her voice was almost wistful. “You’re wearing your long coat,” he said softly. “You’re leaving.” Alana nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Why?”

“I have to,” she replied when she found her voice. “If I don’t, the stronghold will be attacked again, and this time it will be destroyed. I cannot let that happen. Asaeria told me it was time for me to journey outside the stronghold.”

“But surely,” he protested, “she did not tell you to leave Laren behind. She is your best friend as well as your Protector.”

“Yes, she is my best friend,” Alana replied. “And she almost died trying to protect me. I won’t let that happen again. She’ll be safe once I leave.”

“But, she’ll be hurt knowing you left her behind.”

“Yes, and with any luck, she’ll be so angry with me, she won’t want to come after me.”

“Alana, you cannot mean that,” Bruny said.

Alana closed her eyes against the burning sting. “Please, Brother Bruny, I just want to sit with her for a while before I go. Allow me that time in peace.”

Bruny took a small step back. “As you wish,” he said reluctantly.

“Thank you,” Alana said as she walked past him into the infirmary.

The infirmary was only dimly lit and, at the moment, Laren was one of only two occupants. Alana went over to her bed, sat on the edge and just stared down at her friend’s face for a long while. She looked so peaceful. Alana smiled as she remembered the way Laren was when they first met—anything but peaceful. Then, Laren hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. Now—Alana swallowed a lump in her throat—now she was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to have Laren wake up. Then she wouldn’t have to make this terrible decision, she wouldn’t have leave the stronghold alone.

Coming to the infirmary had been a mistake. It was weakening her resolve. Alana stood, reached inside her long coat, pulled out the letter she had agonized over the day before and laid it on the small table beside Laren’s bed. She bent and lightly kissed Laren’s forehead. “Goodbye,” she whispered. Then she turned and walked quickly out of the infirmary.

Bruny was still outside, talking quietly with Treise. The pair stopped talking when Alana emerged. She walked over to them and said, “Brother Bruny, thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for Laren.”

“It was an honor Alana,” Bruny replied. “I only wish I could do more. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and wait?”

“I’m sure,” Alana said a bit hoarsely. “I left a letter for her. Please make sure she gets it.”

“Of course, Alana,” he said. He held out his hand. “We will miss you.”

Alana grasped his hand. “Thank you. I’ll miss you as well.” She turned to Treise and said, “Goodbye, Treise.”

Treise bowed her head and said, “Goodbye, your Grace.”

Alana hastened away from them before she could break down or Bruny could make another entreaty for her to wait for Laren. She headed toward the north gate and was outside the stronghold almost before she realized what she was doing. She walked into the forest until she couldn’t see the stronghold anymore, then she stopped and leaned against a large tree. She turned towards it and ran her hands over its rough and gnarled skin. She could feel the life flowing through it, could feel its connection to the rest of the forest. She closed her eyes and reached out to the Heart, looking for that connection that brought her such joy and contentment.

“You are well again, dear one. It is cause for great joy. Your life is precious to me.”

“I am sorry I caused you pain,” Alana replied. “I promise you it will not happen again.” Alana felt the Heart respond to her promise with elation, but underneath the joy ran a tremor of fear. “What is troubling you?”

“Evil has strengthened. It brings chaos and destruction. You must flee until your strength grows to match it.”

“I know,” Alana replied sadly.

“I will not fail a second time,” the malevolent voice of her enemy cut in. “I will destroy you and everyone you ever cared about.”

Fury rose from within Alana’s soul. She imagined her hand wrapped around someone’s throat, squeezing tightly. “When I find you,” she responded, “I will kill you with my bare hands.” Instead of just pushing the evil presence from her mind, she envisioned a sword thrust plunging deep into an unprotected chest. For a brief instant, she thought she felt fear come from her tormentor. Then all she felt was pain as the violence of her expulsion of him exploded through her mind.

Alana opened her eyes slowly. The pain had receded to a dull throbbing in her temples. It took a moment for her to realize that she was lying on the ground. She sat up carefully, trying to piece together what had happened. A drop of blood fell onto her breeches. Startled, she put her hand on her face and discovered her nose was bleeding. “Damn,” she murmured. She dug through the pockets of her long coat and finally found a handkerchief. She smiled to herself. Uncle Iliard must have put it there.

As she wiped her face, she noticed that the sun was piercing the canopy of the trees that surrounded her. She looked up and saw that the sun was well risen. It looked like it had been up for at least two hours. “Damn, damn, damn,” she said aloud. She stood up quickly, but then had to brace herself against the tree when a wave of dizziness swept over her. Blood started to trickle out of her nose again. She held the handkerchief up to her nose and started to run back toward the stronghold.

Alana ran through the north gate and across the stronghold towards Lord Berol’s office. The caravan had long since departed. She only slowed to a walk once she was inside the main building. She shoved the handkerchief in her pocket and went towards Lord Berol’s office. Ranger Etimus was sitting outside Lord Berol’s office. “Is Lord Berol in?” Alana asked him somewhat breathlessly.

“Yes, he is,” Etimus replied. “Would you like to speak with him?”

“Yes, please,” Alana replied.

“I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you, Etimus,” she said.

Etimus knocked on Lord Berol’s inner office door, went inside, and after a moment, came back out. “He will see you now.”

Lord Berol was just rolling up a scroll when she walked in. He looked up at her and said, “Good morning, Alana. It’s good to see you up and about. Bruny said you left the infirmary yesterday, but no one saw you all day.”

“I know, my Lord,” Alana replied, “I had some things I had to do.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, pointing at her face. “It looks like your nose was bleeding.”

Alana reflexively put her hand to her nose and was relieved to find no new bleeding. “It’s fine,” she answered. “It was nothing.”

Lord Berol looked skeptical, but said nothing more about it. “So, what can I do for you, Alana?”

“I need to leave the stronghold,” Alana blurted out.

Lord Berol paused before he answered her. He took in her clothing and obvious agitation and said, “I take you want to leave soon?”

“Yes, today. Now,” she replied.

“Now?” he repeated. “I thought Laren was still in the infirmary.”

“She is. That’s why I have to leave now, before she wakes up.”

Lord Berol leaned forward and said, “Are you saying that you are deliberately leaving Laren behind?”

“Yes. She’s been through enough. I don’t want her to be in danger anymore. I…” she paused momentarily and clenched her fists. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”

Lord Berol stood up and came around to the front of his desk. He put his hand on Alana’s shoulder and said, “I know the past three months have been difficult for you and I am partly responsible for that. I think you should take more time before you make such a decision. You have only just recovered from a demon attack and…” he shifted uncomfortably, “and you did just try to take your own life.”

Alana pulled away from him and walked towards the middle of the room. She turned around and there were tears glistening in her eyes. “I know what happened and I know what I did. I also know you won’t believe me if I tell you I won’t do it again. But none of that matters. I need to leave the stronghold. You know I need to leave the stronghold. And I know you don’t want me here.”

“Alana…”

She shook her head. “A hundred and eighty Rangers died because of me. The stronghold was decimated and Ben…” she stopped speaking and turned away from him. “I don’t blame you for not wanting me here,” she went on hoarsely. “You are Lord of this stronghold. It’s your duty to protect it.”

“You did not cause the deaths of those Rangers,” Lord Berol insisted. “They were killed by the T’Rundi who attacked the stronghold.”

Alana whirled around to face him. “They only attacked the stronghold because of me,” she swallowed hard. “I know what people say when they think I’m not listening. The leader singled me out. They know he was here for me. I am an outcast. There is nothing here for me. All of my friends are dead or gone.”

“All?” he challenged.

“Well, I don’t want to kill the ones that are left. Look what happened to Laren.”

Lord Berol walked towards her. “Alana, there is always a place for you at Adamnar, no matter what anyone else might say. And you do have friends here who would miss you if you left. In good conscience, I could not condone you leaving the stronghold to travel alone. I have a responsibility to you and to your uncle.”

“I have no intention of traveling alone,” she said. “I made a promise to Uncle Iliard that I wouldn’t. I’m going to ride with Merchant Torella’s caravan.”

Lord Berol’s brows went up in surprise. “Ride the caravan? But it’s already gone. Alana, surely you can wait for the next caravan. It will you give to time to plan.”

Alana’s eyes blazed. “You don’t understand.” She pointed at her nose. “Do you see this? Today, the enemy who engineered the attack on the stronghold attacked my mind. He told me that he was going to kill me and everyone I ever cared about. I got his when I forced him out of my mind,” She rubbed her hand over her eyes. “I cannot stay here. The next time, everyone will die.”

Lord Berol stood staring silently at the young Ranger. Finally he turned and went back behind his desk. He opened a drawer and took out an empty leather pouch, unremarkable except for the single rune imprinted on it. “You uncle warned me that you might decide to leave before he returned. He asked me to give you this.

Alana went over and took the pouch. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I already have one.”

Lord Berol gave her a slight smile and replied, “I doubt you have one like this. Put your hand inside.”

Alana opened the pouch and reached into it. Her eyes widened in surprise. “There’s gold in here.”

“About a hundred gold pieces, according to your uncle,” Lord Berol responded.

Alana put her hand deeper into the pouch. She could feel the coins running through her fingers. She pulled her hand back out and looked at the outside of the pouch. She traced the rune with her finger and felt the magic tingle through her hand. “I guess he knows me better than I thought,” she said softly.

“I think so,” Lord Berol replied. “He said it should fit nicely in the inside left pocket of your long coat.” He waited while Alana slipped the pouch into her pocket. “It shouldn’t take you long to catch up with the caravan. There is a patrol with it, so the route will be safe. I didn’t send a Ranger with them this time because we are still rebuilding the stronghold. I’m sure Merchant Torella will be pleased to have his Ranger escort after all.”

“I…” Alana suddenly felt a large lump in her throat. She swallowed hard and put out her hand. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. This place is like home to me. I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

Lord Berol shook her hand. “It has been an honor to have you in this stronghold.”

“Thank you,” Alana said.

As she turned away, Lord Berol said, “You know, you don’t need my permission to leave the stronghold. No Ranger is bound to their stronghold like that.”

“I…well, I guess I knew that,” she replied. “But, when I ride the caravan, I’ll be representing Adamnar.”

Lord Berol smiled. “Adamnar could not be better represented. Take care of yourself, Alana. And know that there is always a place in Adamnar for you.”

“Thank you.” She turned away quickly and hurried out of his office. She had to leave before she changed her mind. She ran across the stronghold compound to her quarters, gathered her belongings and headed for the stables. As she was saddling Starlight, Lord Waylan came into the stables from the practice ring.

“So you’re finally leaving,” Waylan said.

“Yes,” Alana said without looking at him.

“Well, good luck,” he said.

She turned around to face him and shook his outstretched hand. “Thanks,” she said. She let go and mounted Starlight.

“You be careful, Candril,” Waylan said. Alana nodded and rode to the south gate.

Alana caught up to the caravan in less than two hours. She slowed Starlight to a walk and made her way slowly up to the front of the caravan. The lead driver saw her ride up and said, “I was hoping Lord Berol would change his mind. I wasn’t looking forward to telling merchant Torella he wasn’t gonna get a Ranger escort this time.” He let go of the reins with his right hand and reached over to her. “The name’s Larson, but everybody just calls me Lars.”

Alana took his hand and said, “I’m Alana. I’m glad to be here.” She then dropped back and rode near the center of the caravan. She saw the members of the escort patrol looking at her in surprise. She just looked straight ahead.

The second night, after they had set up the encampment, she sat by the fire a little apart from the rest of the people. She had done her best to avoid the members of the patrol group so she didn’t have to answer any questions. Part of her still expected Laren to show up. As she stared into the flames, a man sat down next to her. She recognized him as the red-haired Bard she had seen in the tavern the night before the caravan left. “Hello,” he said in cheerful voice. “You look like you could use some company. I’m Tegan, the resident Bard for this ride.”

Alana smiled at him, mostly because she didn’t want to be rude. “I’m Alana,” she answered, and stared back into the fire.

“I know who you are,” Tegan said. “I’m a Bard. It’s my job to get all the good stories. I’ll have to say, yours is one of the best stories I’ve heard in a long time.”

She made a noise that sounded almost like a snort and replied, “You should try living it. I don’t think you’d find it so good after a while.”

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s all what you make it, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Alana repeated.

Tegan stood up. “Well, I’m off to entertain the other Rangers. Maybe I’ll have better luck. And then it’s on to Erordinville tomorrow. I’ve heard a Bard can make pretty good money there.”

“I imagine so,” Alana said as politely as she could.

“Goodnight, Alana,” Tegan said as he walked towards the rear of the caravan.

“Goodnight,” Alana murmured. After Tegan left, Alana stayed for a little while longer in front of the fire. Finally she decided to try to sleep. She went to her bedroll and lay down. As had happened the night before, all she did was lay awake staring at the stars.

Her encounter with her enemy had shaken her to the core. All of the anger she thought she had control over had channeled itself into the mind of the being responsible for the attack on the stronghold. She had felt his fear and it made her glad. Had she learned nothing for all her years of training? If she could not control her anger, how then could she be this great leader or whatever it was she was supposed to be?

Tegan’s comment kept running through her mind. ‘It’s all what you make it.’ She wondered what she could possibly make of her story.

The End (of book 2)

Book 3 will follow Alana’s journey with the caravan and reveal more of what her future holds.