Routes of a Ranger, page 1
Copyright © 2024 D. Hale Rambo
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.
ISBN: 978-1-7361281-7-6 (Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-7361281-6-9 (eBook)
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Fiercewood Press
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United States
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Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Epilogue
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Glossary for World of Kairas
About the Author
Also by D. Hale Rambo
To my amazing mother. Sorry, I know I'm late for your birthday. But thank you for your support and encouragement day in and day out. Couldn't do any of this without you.
Chapter One
Skinny knew when she had gotten deep into a mess. Earlier in life she would’ve ignored how bad a situation could be and pressed deeper in for a variety of reasons. A bit of fun or adventure. But she wasn’t as foolish as that anymore.
What had she been thinking, letting herself get close to people? To be responsible for people? She hadn’t wanted to do it. It was one thing, taking jobs from the wanderers of this continent. They were short-term trades that she could take or leave. It gave her necessities and let her roam around the forests and hills with minute purpose, hunting and trading with other wanderers, villages, or camps. She learned new paths, visited untouched places, and committed all to memory.
It was another thing altogether taking a job guiding people, folks she barely knew, from one spot of trouble to another. But she had done it. Partly because she was already going the same direction, hoping to hop to Tovo, the northern continent, for a while. But mostly because Keen wanted her to, and he was a clever pup.
Not really a pup anymore. Skinny glanced down at his large red furry head nestled on her chest. He had grown very much in the years since they had been away from home. In size and in power. She wished she had spent more time listening to her mother about the vulpini. Maybe she’d have a chance to ask her once they got to Erto. If they got to Erto. If she was even still alive. She was rushing back to protect her mother, but how? She couldn’t protect anyone. She wasn’t capable and Carmela had shown her that in stark detail. What she had done to her, freezing her like that, should’ve been impossible. She hadn’t felt that powerless in years.
She wanted to leave, react to the panic welling up inside of her alone. She shoved it down, relaxing her breathing, and leaned into Keen, focusing on the prickliness of his fur. She smoothed the ruffled fur down on his foxy head, his warmth comforting beneath her hand. Carmela had trapped her, yes. But she was free now and she would never let that happen again.
“Skinny,” Laysa said lightly, glancing up at her, “any thoughts on which way to go? You’re the only one here who’s been to Erto.”
Snapping out of her thoughts, Skinny looked at the four expectant faces staring up at her. Zizy’s ruby-red gnomish face, pressed, her arms crossed, but she stared directly at Skinny, waiting. Laysa’s brown pebbly face, sympathetic as she leaned in with large, shining eyes. Pace’s pale-gray stony face, mouth set in a hard, determined line, muscles tight as he lay in the only bed in the room. Skinny glanced at Pace’s sister, Anya, who was standing, back against the wall near him, arms crossed. Her face was much like Pace’s except for a jagged scar that ran down one eye. A large sword was strapped to her back, and her gray-black dreads matched the dark, crackled gray of her skin. Skinny didn’t have a hard time reading her anger and glanced away.
She walked over to the table, where a map of the world was spread out, held down by a lamp, a compass, and some clay mugs. The Lovewold city outpost they were in was outlined in red on the map already. Their destination was clear on the other side of the page. She sighed and crossed her arms. Keen leaped from her shoulders to lie beside Laysa in her chair. Skinny pushed down a touch of sadness at his departure and stared harder at the map as if that would solve everything.
“I came over almost a decade ago,” Skinny said. “My boat took me through the Shattered Isles, and I arrived in Arovein.” She nodded at Zizy, mentioning the southernmost gnomish city. “That was before Camdene started a war though. Now that way, besides taking months to walk, is impassable.”
“What if we go to Zumi and travel from there? It’s farther north from Arovein and there are a few people I can see helping us if we can get to them,” said Zizy.
“It’s the same problem. Months of travel. And we can’t skirt the coastline by boat because of Camdene. There’s no direct path that bypasses them,” Skinny said, drawing her finger down around the coast of from the Kerryan nation to Zumi. There was Camdene smack in the middle. She frowned, brow wrinkling. How did Zizy not know this? Come to think of it, how did the gnome travel from one side of the continent to the other without running into Camdene?
Before Skinny could ask, Zizy burst out, “But that’s the only place I know where we can get items that will help hide us from Carmela and her goons. She can see us anywhere we go through her orb. She could be watching us now!”
“All the better then to make a plan quickly and move on so that these…relic keepers can’t ambush us,” Skinny said tensely. She placed a hand on her baton. She didn’t need to hide from someone. Now that she understood who Carmela was, she would be ready to handle her the next time they encountered her. Magic or not.
“Well then, what’s your suggestion?” said Zizy, pacing the small space. Her ruby-red curls bounced along with her as if trying to contain her anxious energy.
“We take a ship from here, head out to Tovo,” she said, pointing to the continent in the north, “skirt close to their borders instead of ours, so we can work our way around Camdene territory. Once we’re past that, then we sail directly for the north tip of Erto.”
“How far inland is your mother?” Laysa whispered.
Skinny nodded in appreciation of her not mentioning her mother loud enough for Pace’s sister to hear. “A week’s travel from northern Erto on the Treamatta trails. They’re built above the land so it’s much quicker than through the jungle floor.”
“But that does nothing to stop her from finding us,” Zizy said, words rushed. She pushed between Laysa and Skinny at the table. “We’re just screws waiting to be turned at any moment to Carmela.”
“It’s the quickest that we have. If we don’t present a threat to her, then she has no reason to follow. She knows we’re no real match for her.” Hiding would only delay the inevitable and waste valuable time to get home.
Zizy raised her hand to make another point, but Pace’s soft voice broke in. “Zizy, I know you’re worried about what Holy Speaker Carmela could do to Laysa. But we’re here and we’ll protect her. And each other. I agree with Skinny. Our quickest solution is to get to somewhere where we can be out of danger.” He said louder with more warmth, “We should follow her lead. She’s traveled more than anyone here.”
He was in better health than yesterday. Skinny was relieved to see the purple bruising gone from his cheeks and arms where the cold of the ice cavern had damaged him. So conscious of how everyone was and so protective, even to his fault. She looked away from him, a pang of anxiety spiking through her chest, and focused on Keen.
Zizy lowered her hand and sighed. She leaned on Laysa and said, “So whose boat are we taking?”
“I hope you mean ‘take’ as in ‘procure passage on,’” Pace said with a small smile.
“I might have if we had any money, but we’re basically broke now,” Zizy said. “We spent all Laysa’s coins on Skinny’s services.”
Skinny nodded. “I’m more than willing to pitch in that money to get on a ship.”
“If we scrape together all we have, I’m sure we could afford something,” said Laysa brightly.
“No boat from here is going to take them around Camdene territory. No matter how close you skirt Tovo,” broke in Anya. She clasped her arms tighter together, talking directly to Pace as if no one else were around. “We’re at war, Wing. Ships in Lovewold are usually transporting fighters to the other coastal cities or goods from here to Deastria and back. Not passengers.”
“You’ve been here for over a year, Anya,” Pace said, staring up at her. “Is there anyone you know who could help us?”
“I’m not going back,” Pace said, shaking his head. He sighed and grabbed her hand. “I came here to fight with you. For our home. How can you ignore everything we’ve just told you? If we don’t figure this out, the Brix could be fighting two enemies instead of one.”
“You say that, but…” She stopped, glancing at the others, who were eagerly listening. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Skinny assessed the two siblings, a familiar back-and-forth blooming in her memories. An ache formed in her chest, and she bit her lip, restraining herself from rubbing her hand across it to ease it away. “We’ll do what we have to. I’ll see if anyone will take us and at what cost. If we need more coins, I’ll find a way to make more.”
“What’s this?” said Laysa, pointing to an exclamation point in the water between the two continents.
“The Piked Sea. It’s the only place you can see a Union of the Seal spear above the water. The others were destroyed sealing the deities away. I’ve never understood why that one remained intact,” murmured Skinny. Eight mountain-sized spears were driven into the sea floor by the Union of the Seal, the group that banished the deities from the world. Each one made in secret within the mountains of the world. Filled to the brim with a power so destructive it completely wiped the places they struck down off the map. The lessons her mother drilled into her and her brother, Farnin, growing up about the war and the resulting cataclysm made even the smallest details hard to forget.
“No one goes near it if possible,” Anya interjected. “The water’s rough to pass through and a little unnerving. Rumors have spread from the seafarers there’s creatures there that drown any boat that nears it.”
“People see a lot of weird things when they’ve been on the water for a while,” said Zizy, waving a hand dismissively.
“Either way, between Camdene and the Seal spear we have a narrow channel from here to Tovo. Once we get to their borders it should be safer travel.” Skinny rolled up the map. “We should leave as soon as possible. I don’t doubt that someone may come looking for us after the catastrophe of this morning.” The exploding ship in the harbor couldn’t have gone unnoticed.
“I did say they would be a bit of a handful, didn’t I?” Pace said to Skinny, grinning.
She wanted to say something back, a quip or a joke, but she pressed her lips together and nodded once. She couldn’t continue being overly familiar.
Pace raised an eyebrow at her for a moment but then dropped it, turning back to Anya.
They weren’t close so, why did Skinny feel guilty about his look? “I suggest we rest here tonight. It’ll probably be the last time we sleep on land until we reach Erto. I’ll be up at first light so we can get supplies, find a ship willing to take us, and head out.” She had stayed in this small room pushing down her feelings long enough. She clicked her tongue at Keen, who opened one eye lazily before nuzzling Laysa and scampering over to Skinny.
He ran up her legs, her pack, and then settled around her shoulders. There was a small, familiar jolt of energy, like a tiny shock of lightning as Keen opened a telepathic a link between them. You should tell them how you feel Ronin, he thought to her in his soft, warm voice.
Keen could be the only one who opened the link, and she welcomed the intrusion, feeling less alone than she had a moment before. I’d rather not, she thought back as she pulled her bag from the floor and turned away from the group quickly. They’re not our friends, Keen. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. She opened the door and stepped out.
She heard Zizy ask, “Wing?” and Pace groan with embarrassment before shutting the door and leaving them, the mess they brought with them, and her worries about tomorrow behind her for the moment.
Skinny made her way to a smaller room next door. It was little more than an equipment closet, but it afforded her some privacy from everyone else and she was grateful for it. She sank down on the cot in the room and buried her face in her hands.
They could be our friends, Keen said telepathically.
“We don’t need friends. Jobs, food, shelter, those are all things we need.”
But we get lonely. It’s been nice having them around.
“I noticed you’re always chummy with Laysa,” Skinny said, trying to sound unemotional.
She smells like warm, wet earth, he offered up.
“And what do I smell like?”’
Ice.
Skinny laughed at the wrinkle in his voice, relaxing a fraction. She hadn’t expected that.
While the connection with Keen was still open, she could peer into his thoughts and he into hers. Instead of talking, she just let herself remember what it was like to be frozen and unable to move. The comfort of having Keen with her was damaged by the worry that Carmela would take him from her. Then she focused on the moment she could move again.
She felt her throat itch and her eyes well up, but she replayed the memories over and over, dissecting everything she could about them. The way she tried to swift-step away, the ice-cold splinters that froze her, and what Carmela was touching to make it happen. A purple sash with golden edges. She committed these things to memory.
So we never get to forget? said Keen, warmth gone from his voice.
“So we never go through it again,” she said in the same monotone way she always answered.
Keen broke the connection from Skinny and curled up into a ball in her lap, a big, soft lump tucked away from the world.
Skinny closed her eyes, willing the exhaustion from the day’s events to take her to sleep. But she couldn’t help replaying another set of memories one more time before she could let go. She saw her twin brother, Farnin, his face etched in worry as she strode off and away on her own whims. She heard him call her name, saw him come after her and stay by her side, despite their mother’s orders to stay at home.
He had always felt like the older brother, though he was several hours younger. She went back to his face, remembering every smile, every frown, and every laugh they ever shared. Even when she did things that others would chide her for, Farnin never did. Whether because she was feeling rebellious that day, she wanted to adventure, or because she just didn’t want to be around their mother, Farnin was there. He would always make it sound like a good story, going so far as to write them down. She hadn’t even known he was giving them away until she found one he had written. “Who else will see you like I do if I don’t record it? You certainly don’t, Skinny Legs.”
It was all she had left of the brother, who had always protected her. Who protected her even to the very end of his life. He would be with her mother, watching over her now, if not for Skinny’s need to prove to their overbearing parent that she knew what was best. That she could help others with or without her permission. She had been right, but at the cost of Farnin’s life. It was her fault. She deserved her mother’s banishment.
If she couldn’t get back to their mother and lost the last member of her family… Skinny stopped punishing herself. She wouldn’t lose her. She would stop Carmela and whoever else got in her way. There was no path that could deny her when she put her mind to it.
Chapter Two
Skinny looked at her pack of items, carefully inventorying them to make sure they were all there. She ran her sure finger over her ropes, mess kit, vials, waterskin, dwindling rations, and her sundial, and bundled them all up together. Pulling on her silver metal armbands, covering the tattoo of her family crest, she stroked the sigils on the bands. An unseeable force of spellwork started and they tightened up and clicked together automatically. I hope I don’t have to sell these just to get a ship. She frowned at the thought. They were the last remnant that she still had of her home in Erto. Anything less valuable had been sold over the years when times trekking the wilderness got tough. But the metal bands, engraved with a closed book, swirl on its cover signifying the Curious Muse, she could never part with before. There was the sentimental value of a gift loved and given in love by her brother. And then there was their practical value. Like many things in Erto, they were more than what they seemed and could be used in an instant to restrain a creature or person by stroking imbued sigils on the inside. They opened, unfolding like rope, and remained so until she twisted them and stroked the sigils again. Tools as versatile and discreet as that were hard to find on this continent.
