A Ranger From Adamnar

Lord Berol was sitting at his desk reading a scroll when a knock sounded on his door. “Come,” he called out.

Lord Cartyet opened the door and said, “Van, you have a visitor.”

“Who is it?” Lord Berol asked.

“His name is Ashmani Zarjinda,” Lord Cartyet replied. “He’s a Cazleel.”

“I got that from the name,” Lord Berol said. “I wonder what a Cazleel is doing here. They usually go to the Headquarters if they want something.”

Lord Cartyet shrugged. “He asked for the lord of the stronghold, that’s all.”

“Show him in then,” Lord Berol replied. After Lord Cartyet left, Lord Berol rolled up the scroll he had been reading and moved to stand in front of his desk. The Cazleel Elves were very formal when they first greeted someone they didn’t know and Lord Berol didn’t want to insult his visitor.

Lord Cartyet came back a short time later and opened the door for Ashmani Zarjinda. He was tall and slender with fair skin, shoulder length black hair and very dark eyes. He was dressed in dark blue robes that had silver trim on the sleeves and around the hem. The sapphire amulet around his neck indicated his place in the hierarchy of the Cazleel. Lord Berol bowed deeply and said, “Welcome to Adamnar Stronghold, Ashmani Zarjinda, Master Scribe of the Cazleel.”

The elf bowed in returned and replied, “Greetings Vantinor Berol, Lord of Adamnar Stronghold.”

“To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Master Zarjinda?” Lord Berol asked.

“I have come in search of the Source,” Master Zarjinda replied.

“The Source?” Lord Berol asked.

“I felt the power move through the forest like a great wind,” he said softly. “I have followed the path to this place.” He looked Lord Berol in the eye and said, “You are not the Source.”

Lord Berol’s eyes widened slightly and he suppressed a smile. “No, I am not,” he replied. “But I think I can help you.”

Master Zarjinda gazed at him silently for a long moment, then said, “You have felt this power. You know the Source.”

Lord Berol nodded, “Yes, I believe I do.” He walked to the door and opened it saying, “If you would please come with me.”

He led the way across the compound towards the sparring arenas. As they walked, Lord Berol asked, “Master Zarjinda, what does all this mean?”

Master Zarjinda did not slow his graceful stride as he answered, “There is a darkness invading the Heart. The tempest that swept through the forest is an omen of the great war that is to come. The time that has long been foretold is upon us.”

Lord Berol felt a chill run up his spine. The Cazleel’s words were far more dire than anything he had heard from Master Iliard. He walked the rest of the way to the sparring ring in silence as he pondered the elf’s words.

The class of third phase trainees was sparring. The air resonated with the sounds of wooden practice swords clashing against each other. Waylan saw them approach the sparring ring and met them at the gate. He looked at Master Zarjinda and said, “I was wondering when you would show up.”

Master Zarjinda gazed steadily at Waylan and replied, “Mahl tor behana, kaltanvar.”

Waylan raised an eyebrow and said, “You know it’s rude to speak elvish in front of people who don’t understand it.”

Lord Berol thought he saw Master Zarjinda’s lips twitch slightly before he replied, “I see you have not changed.”

“Huh,” Waylan responded. Then he looked at Lord Berol, who was frowning deeply and said, “I’ll get her.” He took a few steps forward and shouted, “Alana! Step out!”

Alana, who was sparring with Cadius yet again, started when she heard Waylan bellow her name. She bowed quickly to Cadius who, to her great surprise, bowed back, and jogged over to Waylan. When she saw Master Zarjinda standing there, she stopped in her tracks and stared wide-eyed at him. Remembering her manners, she put down the practice swords, bowed deeply and said, “Greetings, Master Scribe of the Cazleel.”

Master Zarjinda bowed in turn and replied, “Greetings, Ranger of Adamnar Stronghold.”

Waylan rolled his eyes and murmured, “There she goes again,” then walked back towards the trainees, who were all staring at the Cazleel elf standing by the gate. “Get back to work,” he growled at them.

Lord Berol cleared his throat and said quietly, “Alana, this is Master Ashmani Zarjinda. Master Zarjinda, this is Alana…Candril.”

Alana shot Lord Berol a startled look. Seeing Alana’s expression, Master Zarjinda said, “Perhaps we should speak of this elsewhere.”

“Of course,” Lord Berol replied. The three walked away from the sparring ring towards the north wall of the stronghold. When they were away from curious eyes and ears, Lord Berol said, “Alana, I thought it best to tell Master Zarjinda the truth. I believe he can help you.”

Alana nodded and answered, “Yes, Lord Berol.”

“If I may,” Master Zarjinda said, “I would like to speak to Ranger Candril alone.

“Of course,” Lord Berol responded. He pointed to the North gate and said, “If you want to leave the stronghold, you can go that way.”

“Thank you, Lord Berol,” Master Zarjinda responded. He waited until Lord Berol had gone before he asked, “Would you mind if we went outside the stronghold?”

“No, Master Zarjinda,” Alana replied.

She led the way to the North gate and opened it for him. The pair walked in silence for a long while as they went deeper into the forest. Alana noticed a change in the forest almost as soon as they entered it. It seemed more awake, as if the presence of the Cazleel elf had energized it.

They stopped by a group of very large, very tall trees. Master Ashmani Zarjinda turned to face her and bowed so deeply that she thought he was going to literally fold himself in half. “Gahl endui tagat, Terin Berinath,” he said with great reverence.

Alana stared at him in astonishment. For a moment she was speechless, but finally she asked, “Master Zarjinda, please tell me, what does that mean? I have been called Terin Berinath before, but no one has told me what it means.”

Master Zarjinda gazed at her in wonder. His whole life had been spent in the study of the Great War prophecy. Now he realized that he had somehow come upon the very infancy of the fulfillment of the prophecy. He could have reveled in this moment for days, however, Alana was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He thought for a moment and replied, “It means ‘Joy of the Heart’. But that is not a perfect translation because it comes from the ancient Trelempani and even our foremost scholars have not discovered a more accurate meaning.”

“Joy of the Heart,” Alana repeated. “You mean the Heart of the forest, don’t you.”

Master Zarjinda nodded, “Yes. The forest tells me you have spoken to the Heart.”

“Yes,” she replied.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I came here with so much to say. Now, none of it means anything. You have so much to learn.” He paused thoughtfully and then asked, “How came you to this place?”

Alana gazed at him curiously. It seemed like a strange question to ask after all he had just said. “My Uncle Iliard brought me here because I wanted to be a Ranger,” she replied.

The elf raised one eyebrow and asked, “Iliard Candril, Wielder of the Jade Dragon, son of Katherine Candril, first Wielder of the Jade Dragon in the new Novadi order?”

“Yes,” Alana answered. “Do you know him?”

“We have met,” Master Zarjinda replied. “He has a great destiny before him. However, it is your destiny of which I wish to speak.”

Alana felt her stomach clench. “My destiny?” she said as politely as she could. “I thought you were here to help me control my power.”

Master Zarjinda looked truly puzzled. “Control your power?” he repeated. “I do not understand.”

Frustration made her almost choke on her words. “Lord Berol said I caused some kind of wind of power to go through the forest. He told me I needed to be careful because it could attract evil. When he said you could help me, I thought that’s what he meant.”

Ashmani Zarjinda saw the despair in Alana’s eyes. In his mind he took a step back. This young human was the Source of great power, this he knew. Yet she was still so young and still had so much to learn. How could he best help her? He was a scribe and only knew history and prophecy. He knew little about the kind of power she wielded. He gazed at her thoughtfully for a long while before he replied. “I myself cannot help you in that way,” he began, “but there are those among my people who can. You would do well to leave this place and come to our realm. There you would learn all you need to know to fulfill the destiny that is before you.”

Alana closed her eyes and leaned against the tree behind her, pressing her palms on the rough bark to draw strength from it. Here was yet one more person telling her where she should go, what she should do, and who she should be. And yet, he had told her almost nothing, just as all the others. Was there no one who would just answer her directly?

“You must have patience, young one. Such knowledge must be given slowly over time or the weight of it would destroy you.”

Alana felt tears come to her eyes. “Please, is there nothing I may know now?”

A feeling of warmth and compassion flooded over her. “I will give you this, dear one.” Alana saw in her mind, a woman riding on large black stallion. With a start she realized she was seeing herself. The Alana of her vision got off her horse and reached out to help a ragged man in chains. Then she saw herself standing in front of a broken, bloodstained altar watching as hundreds of worn and emaciated prisoners walked out into the light of day. The image changed and she saw herself on a great battlefield with thousands of soldiers before and behind her. The vision faded slowly and she heard the Heart say to her, “Your place is among your own kind.”

Alana opened her eyes and saw that Master Zarjinda was staring at her with a look that seemed to be a mixture of joy and awe. “The Heart spoke to you,” he said.

“Yes,” Alana answered softly. She paused while she considered her next words. Finally she said, “Master Zarjinda, I am honored by your generous offer. However, I have been told that my place is with my own people. I hope you understand.”

Master Zarjinda nodded slowly, his disappointment obvious. “I understand that the paths of our lives are not entirely under our control. We all must answer to a stronger will at some time or another.”

Alana gave him a faint smile. To her it seemed like all she ever did was answer to someone else’s will. “Thank you, Master Zarjinda,” she said.

“I suppose, then we should go back to the stronghold,” he said. “Although, I have one favor to ask of you, if I may.”

“What is it?” Alana asked with a slight feeling of dread.

“I would be honored,” he began, “If you would consent to tell me your story.”

Alana gazed at him for a long while and wondered if he were only the first of many who would ask her that question. She wondered too if her life would ever be her own. She nodded slowly and replied in her best diplomatic tone, “The honor would be mine, Master Zarjinda.”

Alana arranged to meet with Master Zarjinda in Lord Berol’s office after dinner, then she went back to Waylan’s class. The trainees were still sparring and Waylan was still yelling at them. When he saw her he said, “Come on Nadran, you’ve slacked off long enough.”

“Yes, Waylan,” Alana said through gritted teeth. She found that she just didn’t have the patience for Waylan at the moment. She jumped over the fence and ran over to get two practice swords.

“Cadius needs a challenge,” Waylan said as she walked toward the trainees.

“Yes, Waylan,” she answered flatly.

Waylan looked at her sharply and watched as she stood in front of Cadius and bowed. As soon as they started sparring, Waylan could see that Alana was not concentrating. She just barely parried two obvious attacks and then missed an easy hit. “Get your head in it, Alana,” Waylan yelled.

Alana set her jaw. How was she supposed to ‘get her head in it’ when the visions of her future kept running through her mind? She shouldn’t have come back to the ring. She wasn’t doing herself or Cadius any good.

Even as she thought it, Alana’s foot slipped, she missed the parry and Cadius’ sword crashed into the side of her head and sent her flying backwards across the ring. For a brief moment, everything was mercifully black and quiet. When she opened her eyes, she found herself laying flat on her back in the dirt and Cadius kneeling next to her with a very worried expression on his face. “Hey shorty, are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

As soon as Cadius spoke, the whole sequence of events came back to Alana and pain exploded in her head. She moaned softly put her hand on the left side of her head. It had already started to swell and she felt a small trickle of blood run down her face. “I’m all right,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” he said as he offered her a hand up. “I wasn’t expecting you to let your guard down like that.”

Alana shook her head and instantly regretted it. “It’s all right,” she said. “You took the opportunity. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” She took his hand and slowly stood up, grabbing it a little more tightly when she felt the world start spinning. “Thanks,” she said, once she was steady on her feet. She looked around and saw that every trainee had stopped sparring to stare at her. “I think I’m going to take a break,” she said to Cadius. Just before she turned away she added, “And by the way—now you’re starting to act like a Ranger.” She smiled at his looked of surprised pleasure.

Alana turned around and saw Waylan standing at the far end of the ring with his hands on his hips. She walked over to him with a slightly unsteady gait and stopped a few feet in front of him.

“What the hell were you doing out there?” he asked angrily. “If that had been a real sword, you’d be dead. You’re supposed to be teaching them how to fight, not how to die.”

Alana returned his glare with a gaze as cold as steel. “With all due respect Lord Waylan,” she said quietly, “Go to hell.” Then she turned away and walked out of the sparring ring.

Waylan stared at her retreating form in speechless surprise until she opened the gate. Then he hollered, “Get that healed, Nadran.”

“Hey runt, are you in here?” Laren’s voice woke Alana from an exhausted sleep. She opened her eyes and then groaned when the light from Laren’s lightstick pierced her eyes and magnified the pain in her head. Laren put the stick in a holder on the wall and went over to Alana’s bed. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was tired,” Alana replied thickly.

“Yeah well, you missed some meeting with a Cazleel,” Laren responded. “Lord Berol sent me out to find you.”

Alana groaned again and put her hand on her head. “Damn it. I forgot about that. Now he’s going to be insulted.”

“Holy gods! What the hell happened to you?” Laren knelt down by Alana’s bed and moved her hand away from her face. The swelling went from the side of Alana’s head down to her cheek. Her left eye was nearly shut.

“Cadius got a good hit on me in sparring,” Alana said.

Laren looked at her in askance. “Good hit? It looks like he knocked you out cold. But why didn’t you heal it?”

Alana tried to sit up as she answered, “I don’t know. I was just so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep.”

Laren put her arm behind Alana’s back and helped her sit up. “Come on runt, even I know better than that. You’re never supposed to go to sleep after a knock on the head.” She pulled off her backpack and opened it. She took out a healing potion and handed it to Alana. “Drink this before that gets worse.”

Alana took the bottle from Laren and downed the contents. Soon the swelling started to go down and the pain receded until there was nothing left but the streaks of blood on her face. “Thanks,” Alana said as she handed the bottle back to Laren.

“Sure,” Laren replied. “So,” she went on, “what are you doing here? You and Ben have a fight?”

Alana shook her head. “No, he’s on a three day. You should know that. You sent him on it.”

“Oh yeah,” Laren said. “He’s shadowing Cartou’s fourth phase group.”

Alana stood and said, “I guess I’d better go make my abject apologies to Master Zarjinda.”

“I guess you better clean up first,” Laren retorted. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Alana replied.

“So,” Laren asked while Alana undressed, “what’s a Cazleel scribe want with you?”

Alana walked over to the wash stand and poured warm water into the basin. With a slight shrug she said, “You know, the usual. He wants to know about my life, tell me about my destiny, bow to me in reverence—that sort of thing.”

Laren chuckled. “I could just see that—a Cazleel bowing to a human. That’s funny.”

Alana turned around with the washcloth still in her hand and said, “I wasn’t joking.”

Laren stared at her in disbelief. “You mean he actually bowed down to you?”

Alana nodded, then turned back to wash her face. “He called me that name again—Terin Berinath—and told me it meant Joy of the Heart.”

“Joy of the Heart?” Laren repeated. “As in the Heart of the forest?”

“Uh huh,” Alana replied as she unbraided her hair.

“What does that mean?” Laren asked.

“I have no idea,” Alana answered. She took the washcloth and scrubbed her head where the wound had been to get the blood out of her hair. She combed her hair, then put on a pair of black breeches, a crisp white shirt and a dark green tunic. She pulled on her boots, laced them up, buckled on her sword belt and said, “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“So when did all this bowing happen?” Laren asked as she opened the door to their room.

“During the trainee class,” Alana replied as she went out into the hallway. “Lord Berol brought him over to the ring and asked me to go talk to him. Oh and you know what else? Master Zarjinda told me I should come live with the Cazleel.”

Laren rolled her eyes. “Now wouldn’t that be fun? Living with people who never show any emotions. I’m guessing you told him to get lost.”

Alana smiled as she opened the outer door at the bottom of the stairs. “Not in so many words, but yes. It was helpful that the Heart told me my place was with my own kind.”

“The Heart told you…” Laren shook her head. “There’s always something new with you.” She grinned and said, “That’s how Cadius got that hit on you, isn’t it? You went back and couldn’t concentrate.”

Alana nodded. “Yep. And then I told Waylan to go to hell.”

Laren stopped in her tracks and stared aghast at her friend. “You told Waylan to go to hell?” She shook her head and started walking again. “You’re really pushing it.”

Alana shrugged. “I really don’t care anymore. No one asked me if I wanted to spend every single day training other Rangers how to wield a sword. I came here to be a Ranger.” She walked in silence for a little while then said, “I sometimes think about leaving.” She smiled wistfully. “Wouldn’t it be fun if you, me, Ben and Derek went adventuring together?”

Laren let out a short laugh. “Yeah. All four of us are pigheaded and want to be in charge. That would make for interesting times.”

Alana laughed. “I never said it would be easy, but it sure would be fun.”

“Yeah,” Laren agreed. The pair lapsed into silence as they approached the main building. Just before they went up the stairs, Laren turned to Alana and said, “No matter what, if you leave the stronghold, I’m going with you.”

Alana smiled and her throat constricted slightly. “I know,” she replied. “And I couldn’t imagine going without you.”

Waylan was checking the last of the practice swords when Lord Chasimar came to the ring. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming, Maralene,” he said.

“You know me better than that,” she replied.

“Yes, I do,” he muttered. He closed the door of the sword closet and turned to face Lord Chasimar. “She left in the middle of my class today,” he said.

“I know,” Lord Chasimar replied. “I heard she also told you to go to hell.”

Waylan smirked. “At least I taught her that much.”

Lord Chasimar shook her head. “This isn’t about her disliking you anymore. She’s really unhappy. She talked about leaving the stronghold.” She glared at Waylan, who just folded his arms and stared impassively back at her. “We’re going to lose her.”

Waylan shrugged slightly, “We’re going to lose her anyway.”

“But I’d rather not hasten the process,” Lord Chasimar retorted. When he continued to stare at her in silence she went on, “We’re supposed to be teaching her how to be a Ranger. If she’s going to go out into the world, she’ll be better off if she’s more well rounded. She’d learn more if she were out on patrols.”

“You mean, of course, working for you,” he said.

“Of course that’s what I mean,” Lord Chasimar replied. “Why else would I be here?”

Waylan raised an eyebrow and said, “Maybe out of genuine concern for Alana?”

“Don’t be an ass any more than you can help,” Lord Chasimar snapped. “Of course I’m concerned about her.” Her eyes narrowed. “She left here today with a head injury and went to her room to sleep. Did you bother to find out if she’d gotten healed?”

Waylan crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I want you to let her go,” Lord Chasimar answered.

“You mean share?” he asked.

“I mean let her go,” Lord Chasimar said firmly.

Waylan held her gaze for a long time before he replied. “I need her until I get that brute out of my class.”

“How long will that be?” Lord Chasimar asked suspiciously.

“If Alana does her job, he should test out in the next round,” Waylan replied.

“Two months,” she said. “I can wait until then.”

“Yes, you can,” he responded.

Waylan’s part of the test to fourth phase was finally over. Alana smiled to herself. Cadius had been so excited to be finally testing that he was practically unstoppable during the sparring part of the test. He only slowed down after Alana warned him that the hardest part of the test was yet to come.

She went around the ring to pick up stray practice swords and put them in the sword closet. At last she put her two practice swords away and shut the door. She let out a sigh of relief and smiled broadly. She was done.

“You work pretty hard for someone who doesn’t want to be here.” Alana started slightly and turned around at the sound of Waylan’s voice. “Still not paying attention, huh?” he said. “That will have to change when you’re on patrols.”

“Yes, Waylan. I know. I’m working on it,” she replied. After an awkward pause she put out her hand and said, “Thank you.”

Waylan shook her hand and replied, “There’s always going to be people like me out there. And most of them aren’t going to be as nice as I am.”

“Was that why you made me your apprentice?” Alana asked bitterly, “To teach me that? Because, I already knew there were worse people out there than you—I’ve met some of them.”

“What do you think?” Waylan asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied in frustration. “You haven’t taught me any new techniques. Hell, you haven’t even sparred with me since I was a trainee. So what was the point? Was this all just to get Cadius out of your class?”

“Want to spar with me now?” he asked.

“What? Why now?”

“Why not?” Waylan said with a shrug, “Get it out of both of our systems.”

Alana didn’t relish the idea of getting pounded into the dirt by Waylan yet again, but part of her was itching for the challenge. “All right,” she replied. “But it will have to be short. Lord Chasimar is waiting for me.”

“She can wait,” Waylan said. He put his hand on her shoulder and she felt the pull of teleportation. When they reappeared, they were in an open field surrounded by tall trees.

Alana whirled around. “Where are we? Why did you do that?”

“I don’t like spectators when I spar,” he replied. “This is a little place I used to call home.”

“Where is that?” Alana asked.

For a moment his eyes took on a wistful look. “Arkanna.”

Her eyes went wide. “That’s on the other side of the continent.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure no one is going to interrupt us here.”

Alana shook her head. “You’re as crazy as Pellou.”

Waylan smirked. “Nah. He’d have taken you to the mountains above Ker Deledia.” He drew his swords. “Do you still want to spar or are you all done now that I’ve thrown you off balance?”

Alana narrowed her eyes and drew her swords. “I’m fine.” She bowed her head and took a fighting stance. Waylan bowed his head in return.

She caught a hint of movement just seconds before Waylan attacked. The early warning allowed her to get her defenses up and counter his attack with one of her own. She saw the look of surprise on his face and then a quick, almost imperceptible smile touch his lips. The game was on.

They attacked and defended all around the field, neither getting the upper hand. Alana didn’t allow herself to go faster because she needed to pay attention to Waylan’s fighting style. She noticed that he kept changing his mode of attack whenever she got close to getting a hit on him. She admitted to herself—even if she would never admit it to him—that Waylan was the best non-Novadi fighter she had even seen. It was no wonder her uncle was so good and that Waylan’s students had gone so far in leadership.

Alana pulled herself out of her reverie. Her musings had almost cost her and she barely avoided Waylan’s blade as it came around toward her midsection. She danced out of its path, twisted and brought her sword down hard on his. Sparks flew and she saw that he almost lost his grip.

Their eyes met and she frowned. His gaze was impassive as always. Was he playing with her? Was he trying to make up for being an ass for the past five months? She threw away that notion. Waylan didn’t care what she thought of him. She came at him again and pushed herself a little bit harder. Again she saw that he was caught off-guard. Was it possible that she could actually beat him?

The idea exhilarated her. She increased her speed. She drove him around the field and never let up. She made him defend. She could feel the power of the forest around her flowing into her. She tried to channel it into her movements carefully. She didn’t want a repeat of the day she fought Cadius. She also didn’t let herself get too confident. She had seen Waylan in action too many times and knew he could turn a battle around in the blink of an eye.

Alana became relentless in the pursuit of her goal as she looked for even the smallest opening in his defenses. Waylan was not giving her any leeway. He fought her hard and made her work for every strike.

And then there it was, so slight she would have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention. It was an opening that allowed her to do what Waylan had done to her and all his other trainees so many times before. She ran her long sword along his to just the right balance point and lifted it out of his hand. She quickly followed with a kick to the chest that sent him stumbling backward. She surged forward and swept his right leg out from under him while he was trying to regain his balance and at the same time hit him in the chest with the hilt of her sword. He went down flat on his back. Alana pointed the tip of her long sword at his throat and said, “Yield.”

Waylan opened both of his hands in a gesture of surrender. Alana sheathed her swords and offered him a hand up. When he was back on his feet, Waylan retrieved his long sword and sheathed both of his weapons. Alana waited for his biting commentary, but none came. He put his hand on her shoulder and they were back in his sparring ring. He took a step back from her and bowed. She bowed in return. When she met his gaze she saw pride in his eyes. “That,” he said, “is why I made you my apprentice.”