The King's Secret, page 1
part #2 of Path of the Ranger Series
The King’s Secret
(Path of the Ranger Book 2)
Pedro Urvi
Other Books by Pedro Urvi
THE ILENIAN ENIGMA
THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN GODS
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Dedication
To my good friend Guiller.
Thank you for all your support since day one.
Chapter 1
Lasgol breathed in the cold winter air. It smells of war, of serious trouble, he thought. He was leaning against his faithful Trotter, stroking the pony’s muzzle. It might just be my imagination… He shook his head. No, knowing my luck, there’ll be serious trouble in store for me, for sure. But I’ll face it. Whatever it may be. He sighed deeply, letting out a puff of steam.
His eyes turned to look at the bridge and the village at the end of the valley. They were not just any old bridge and village. It was his own village, Skad. On that bridge he had taken an all-but-deadly beating at the hands of those three bullies a year ago, when he had left to join the Rangers. He shivered at the memory of the pain he had endured.
Suddenly Camu became visible and jumped off his shoulder. He climbed down to Trotter’s back, then up his mane until he was sitting on the strong Norghanian pony’s head.
“Camu, what are you doing?”
The creature looked at the river, gave a shrill cry and began to flex his four legs as if he were dancing.
Trotter snorted uneasily.
“Oh no…”
That was all Lasgol could say. Camu slid down to the ground, his paws still clutching Trotter’s neck. The poor pony neighed, startled, and bucked. Lasgol had to pull on the reins and hold fast to control him. He nearly fell off.
“Easy, boy, easy!” he said, finally managing to soothe him. “Good boy, easy now, it’s nothing,” he whispered in the pony’s ear while he stroked his back.
He searched for Camu. The mischievous creature was in the middle of the river, chasing after a rainbow trout as if he were a born predator.
“Camu! Come back!” But the creature was leaping from one side of the river to the other in pursuit of the trout. “What the heck are you doing? You don’t hunt! You’re an herbivore!”
The creature ignored him and went on bouncing and splashing along the river. Lasgol snorted. He’s playing, all this is new to him. And so it was, and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Ever since they had left the Camp, the creature had not stopped experimenting with everything he came across. This had left Lasgol in more than one tight spot. He needed to be very careful. If he were unable to control the creature, someone would find him out.
“That’s enough, stop playing around and come back here before someone sees you.”
Camu raised his head and gave him a look of protest with his bulging eyes. The everlasting smile which decorated his face no longer fooled Lasgol. He knew when Camu was upset or unhappy.
“Come here! You’re a rascal, you really are!”
As he feared, Camu ignored his call and went on playing at catching fish, leaping along the river with shrill cries of joy.
Seeing he was not being obeyed, Lasgol muttered a protest to the Frozen Gods under his breath. I’ll have to use my talent, it’s the only way to make him do something. He concentrated and used his Gift to send a mental message to Camu: Come here, now.
The creature stopped in the middle of the river. He looked at Lasgol. He tilted his head, blinked his large eyes a couple of times, and then decided. He ran to Lasgol. In one leap he grasped Trotter’s body with his four legs and began to climb. The pony, startled all over again, began to neigh. Lasgol had a hard time calming him. When at last he succeeded, he glared at Camu. The creature had curled up on his shoulder with his tail coiled around his neck. He opened his eyes and tilted his head as though emphasizing his innocence. Then he opened his mouth as far as it would go in an immense smile.
“Don’t give me that innocent look when you know perfectly well you’ve been naughty. And stop startling poor Trotter, you make the poor thing very nervous, and I know you know it.”
Camu gave a little shriek and closed his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah… go on and sleep. And hide, because we’re going into the village and you mustn’t be seen.”
The creature nodded and vanished on his shoulder.
“Huh, you understood that all right. Sleep, yes, play, no,” Lasgol grimaced sadly.
Camu appeared again and licked his cheek. Before he could turn his head, the little creature had vanished again.
“You’re impossible.”
Trotter turned his head.
“Not you, my old mate, you’re a good pony. Now, on we go to the village.”
They set off. As they entered the streets where he had suffered so many bad moments, he had to make an effort to find something good to remember to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He tried to find some pleasant memory of being in his father’s company, before the incident, before he had been unfairly transformed into a traitor to the realm. He found it hard to do, and shivered, Then he remembered walking, holding his father’s hand when he was a toddler in this same street, and relaxed.
People watched him distrustfully as he went by, since he looked like a foreigner passing through. He was wearing the red hooded cloak of the Ranger Initiates, those of the first year. But he wore it inside-out. It was reversible. The inside was a greenish-brown, not particularly attractive, but functional. It did not attract attention. Outside the Camp they had to wear it like this, since nobody must find out that they were studying with the Rangers. The less strangers knew about them the better. He thought of the cloak Master Ranger Oden would give them when they went back to begin their second year of training: that of the Apprentices. It was a strident yellow. He shivered; it was almost worse that the red first year one.
The faces of the locals changed the moment they recognized him. They went from distrust to horror and then shame, all in a single moment. Lasgol was not hiding under the hood, although he might have done so. His face was uncovered, so that everybody would know who he was. He looked at the villagers and greeted them as if he had known them his whole life, which was true, but only a year ago it would have been unthinkable. No more looking down, no more looking away when I meet someone. I’m Lasgol Eklund, son of Dakon, and you’re going to respect me for it, whether you like it or not. Me and my late father.
He reached the first of the three stops he had decided to make as soon as he arrived in the village. He dismounted and tethered Trotter to a tree beside the small house. He took a good look at it. The roof was in a very bad state; it needed repair; a great deal of it. The rest of the structure was as bad as it had been the year before. He knocked hard on the door. It was too early for his tenant to be awake, particularly if he had been enjoying Nocean wine the night before, something he was very happy to do.
Lasgol turned toward his right shoulder where Camu was resting.
“Don’t show yourself unless we’re alone,” he told him without much hope. “It would mean real trouble.” The little creature was enjoying the journey so much that it was almost impossible to keep him under control. Everything was new and exciting for him.
Loud noise erupted inside. Someone was bumping into pots and benches. He heard a hoarse shout.
“All right, all right! Stop hammering on my door!”
Lasgol waited. He knew it would take a while for the door to open.
“Who’s that knocking on my door so early? Can’t a man rest in this damned village?”
Lasgol did not answer. He simply knocked again.
“By the snow-capped mountains of our country, I’ll cut your ears off if this isn’t a matter of life or death!”
The door opened at last and a large man looked out. He looked like a bear which has just woken up after a long hibernation.
“A very good morning to you, sir,” was Lasgol’s greeting.
The expression on the old soldier’s face was a poem.
“Las… gol!” he cried, and bent back from the force of the impression. He almost lost the support of his crutch and fell.
“Hello there, Ulf!” Lasgol said with a smile.
“But… Lasgol… the Camp… Ranger…” He was so befuddled that his good eye could not stop blinking and he could not manage to finish his sentences.
“Too much painkiller yesterday?”
“But… how…what are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course…” the big Norghanian said. “Do come in.” He moved aside to let Lasgol past.
The house was just as he remembered it. Except that now untidiness and chaos reigned everywhere. The kitchen was the area most affected. The empty bottles of wine and the wooden plates with leftover food had been piled in an unstable mound. Ulf, for his part, had not changed either. He was still as big and ugly as a mountain beast. The same reddish hair and beard, except that now they were even more unkempt than usual. The empty eye-socket, which he wore uncovered for everyone to see, still gave his face a look that was both fierce and cruel. Lasgol remembered that it had given him more
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Ulf apologized. He picked up some clothes from the common area and tossed them into his room.
“Perhaps I should’ve announced my arrival…”
“Nonsense! You’re always welcome in my house. I’ll clean up another day. This winter has been harsh and you know me… cleaning and housework aren’t my thing.”
Lasgol noticed that his cot did not look as if it was currently in use. “Haven’t you taken on another lad to replace me?”
“Well… yes, I took three… but the devils ran away after a short time. The last one didn’t even last the whole week. They said they couldn’t stand my bad temper. Me? Bad tempered? Can you believe it!”
Lasgol had to muffle his mirth.
“These young Norghanians of today…” he said, knowing the comment would please the big man.
“Exactly! They don’t make Norghanians the way they used to. These whiners, they take them away from their mother’s skirts and they’re incapable of doing anything other than whine.”
Lasgol smiled and giggled.
Ulf looked him up and down, then nodded.
“You look good, boy. I’d say you’ve even grown a bit.”
Lasgol shrugged. “Must be the physical instruction.”
“And tell me, how does it feel to be a hero?”
“Does everybody know?”
“News travels fast in our frozen kingdom, just as if it was brought in sleighs pulled by hungry wolves.”
“I feel the same as always,” Lasgol smiled, with a shrug.
“Is it true that you jumped on the King and saved him from being hit by a murderous arrow?”
“Yeah… well… you know how they always exaggerate these things… it wasn’t that much…”
“I’ve heard it was something worth seeing.”
“It all happened too quickly, I acted on instinct.”
“Very well done! Like a true Norghanian! I knew you were made of the right stuff for something!”
“Is that why you took me in as your help?”
“That and because I needed help!”
Lasgol laughed
“Get something hot ready while I finish getting dressed, you know where everything ought to be.” Ulf limped off to his room.
“An invigorating tisane would do us good,” said Lasgol, who knew it was what was best for Ulf on his hangover mornings. He got down to work, and tidied up the kitchen mess to some extent.
“What are you doing back here?” Ulf asked him as he searched for a half-decent tunic, which was not to be found. “I thought you’d be with the Rangers.”
“We have three weeks off after the end of the first year. It’s like a reward for having passed the year.”
“So… you passed your first year of instruction.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you saved the King from an arrow that was meant for him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ulf smiled.
“There might just be more in you than I gave you credit for.”
Lasgol was smiling from ear to ear.
“I doubt it.”
“Well, I don’t doubt it. Yes sir!” Ulf was still looking for something to put on. “And you’ve come back to this squalid village? Why? I thought you hated it.”
Lasgol, sighed. “It’s not that I hate it… after all, it’s my home…”
“What a home! As if they’d all treated you that well,” Ulf said in a voice of deep sarcasm. “I bet you’ve been hugging them and patting their backs, one by one.”
“No, I haven’t come back to blame anybody for anything.”
“You haven’t?”
Lasgol shook his head.
“Not even me?”
“You least of all.”
Ulf stopped still, something that was very rare in someone who was a force of nature and never stood still for a moment. He looked hard at Lasgol with his good eye, not knowing what to say. He cleared his throat hard.
“I’m sorry if I was too harsh…”
Lasgol interrupted him. “Were you any less harsh with your other lads?”
“By my frozen beard! Of course not!”
Lasgol smiled. “You treated me the way you treat everybody, not like a pariah. I couldn’t have asked for anything better, or fairer.”
Ulf nearly lost his balance.
“But there were moments… maybe I was too hard on you…that’s my nature… you know…”
“Perhaps. But here I am in one piece, aren’t I?”
“You’re too good. This old retired soldier tells you so. Your heart’s too soft. That’ll bring you trouble.”
Lasgol shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d rather be like that than the opposite.”
Ulf snorted. “Didn’t you learn anything with me? I thought I’d instilled a bit of Norghanian common sense and toughness in you.”
“A bit of Norghanian soldier, you mean.”
“That’s absolutely right! A thousand times better than those lettuce-planter peasants who talk to their hens and pigs. And don’t tell me the Rangers are any better, because you won’t make me change my mind.”
“The Rangers have taught me a useful thing or two.”
“Bah! The training you’d have got with the infantry would’ve been a thousand times more useful.”
“I’ve seen the Invincibles of the Ice, and the Royal Guard. They’re even more impressive than what you told me.”
“See? Old Ulf knows what he’s talking about.” He went over to his weapons in the rack and caressed them with an absent gaze, remembering better times. He pointed at the sword, the long axe and the double-headed axe. “The Rangers didn’t teach you to use these, did they?”
“No. Those aren’t a Ranger’s weapons.”
“They’re a true Norghanian’s weapons!”
Lasgol shook his head, knowing there was no way to change what Ulf thought.
The old soldier went over to Lasgol, looking better now. Lasgol handed him the tisane and the two drank in silence.
“Now everybody knows what happened,” Ulf said suddenly.
Lasgol looked at him. He nodded. “All of them?”
“The fact that the traitor’s son saved the King’s life isn’t something you can keep a secret. The news has spread all over the realm. I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t heard one version or another of what happened.
“I see,” Lasgol said, and took another sip.
“It’s also known that your father has been declared innocent by the King, and his honor restored.”
Lasgol nodded.
“You ought to rub it in, one by one, make them pay for all their insults. I’ll help you willingly! By all the frozen mountains, I’ll do it!”
Lasgol shook his head. “What would I gain from that?”
“Satisfaction! They deserve to pay for everything they made you go through!”
“Hate begets hate…”
“What sort of nonsense is that? Is that what the bloody Rangers taught you?”
“No, my father, Dakon, taught it me.”
The big man leaned his head back and passed his arm over his bad eye; he was uncomfortable.
“I’m not here for revenge… and don’t think that I wouldn’t like to do what you’re saying, because part of me wants to. But there’s another part that knows I’d get nothing but more trouble. No, I’ll swallow my urge to yell at everyone in their faces about how unfair and despicable they were to me.”
Ulf let out a string of curses.
“But I appreciate the offer.”
“If you change your mind, just say the word,” Ulf said, and raised his fist as if he were going to hit someone.
“I will.”
“So tell me, now that you’ve cleared your father’s name, which is the reason you joined the Rangers, and don’t say that wasn’t it, because I know it was, you can’t fool me. What are you going to do? Have you come back to stay? Or are you visiting and then going back to the Rangers?”
Lasgol heaved a long sigh. “That’s something I’ve thought about a lot. You’re right, I joined the Rangers with the sole intention of clearing my father’s name, and now I’ve done that there’s no reason for me to stay. But…”
