A Ranger From Adamnar
Chapter 2

The faint rays of sunrise filtered through the pale green curtains of the guest room. Alana let out a soft sigh and got out of bed. She had been awake for most of the night anyway, she might as well get dressed. Despite the brave face she put on for Uncle Iliard, the thought of being a servant for a year or more both frightened and angered her. As she dressed, she wondered if it would have been better to have gone to the Novadi stronghold after all. A light knock on the door interrupted her gloomy thoughts. “Come in,” she said.

A young woman came in carrying a large leather satchel. “Lord Berol sent this, miss, and asked me to escort you to the dining hall for breakfast.”

Alana took the satchel from the servant. “Thank you,” she replied. “I’ll just need a few minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting outside miss,” the servant replied.

Alana nodded and closed the door. She finished getting dressed and splashed some water on her face. She opened the satchel and found that her uncle had left three more sets of clothing for her. With a small sigh, she hefted the leather strap onto her shoulder, picked up her own small satchel and left the room.

Bertrand stared out the window of his study. A quiet knock on the door interrupted grim musings. “Come in,” he said.

A servant opened the door just enough for his head to fit through and said, “My Lord, Baron Galiblent and his son are here as you requested.”

“Send them in,” Bertrand growled.

The servant opened the door all the way and stood back as Baron Galiblent and his son entered the room. Bertrand waited until he heard the door close before he turned around. Baron Galiblent was clearly put out at being abruptly summoned so early in the morning. “What is it, Candril? You aren’t going to renege on our agreement, are you?”

“I don’t have to,” Bertrand said. “Your idiot son did that all on his own.” He pointed at Tribanius the Younger. “That slimy little bastard raped one of Alana’s personal servants. Then he threatened Alana with rape and worse on their wedding night. He told Alana about the betrothal before I had chance to. Now she’s gone.”

“Gone?!” Galiblent exclaimed, “What do you mean she’s gone? I thought you had guards posted around her rooms.”

“Really?” Bertrand asked in a dangerous tone, “So, not only does your son threaten my daughter, but you have the audacity to bring spies into my castle.” He paused as if trying to calm himself before he went on, “Then you know exactly what went on here last night.”

“How do you know anything went on?” Galiblent asked acidly. “It’s her word against his. Are you going to take the word of a fourteen year old girl over the word of my son?”

“You’re damn right I am!” Bertrand shouted. “That fourteen year old girl is my daughter. She doesn’t have the reputation for raping servant girls and leaving a trail of bastard children behind her.”

“I wouldn’t speak too loudly of bastard children if I were you,” Baron Galiblent said quietly.

“What the hell difference does it make?!” Bertrand shouted at the top of his lungs. “She’s not here to hear any of this. She’s gone because your son couldn’t keep his breeches buttoned.”

“Your brother must have teleported her away,” Galiblent said.

“Iliard couldn’t have teleported into this castle and you know it.” Bertrand retorted. “I believe your court Wizard tried to teleport in and ended up in horse manure outside the stables. The whole place has wards against all kinds of teleportation.”

“Well perhaps your lackey knows something of this,” Galiblent said. “He seems to be conspicuously absent this morning.”

“You mean Neridius?” Bertrand waved his hand dismissively. “He’s with Colonel Gormin working on this.”

“I expect they will work very diligently to find her,” Galiblent said.

“What the hell do I care what you expect? I just lost my daughter,” Bertrand retorted. “I’ll tell you this much though,” he continued, “When she does come back, there will be some changes. Your son will apologize for terrorizing Alana. And the wedding date will be moved by another year until she’s sixteen. Maybe by then he’ll have learned how to act like a man.”

“Now see here Candril,” Galiblent said angrily, “The contract clearly states…”

“Damn the contract! There’s nothing in that contract that says he has the right to carve a slave mark on a High Baron’s daughter.” He looked over at the younger Galiblent, who was red-faced and enraged, and pointed to the dagger on his belt, “That doesn’t belong to you.” He put out his hand and said, “I’ll take that back now.”

Young Tribanius looked at his father for assistance, but got only a baleful stare. He reluctantly pulled the dagger out of his belt and handed it over to Bertrand, flipping it over to the hilt side only at the last moment.

Bertrand stared at him and his eyes glittered dangerously. “A wise choice.” He stepped back and his gaze swept over both of them. “There’s nothing more for you here now. I’ll let you know when Alana has been found.” Then he turned his back on the pair of them and went back to the window.

As he walked out, Galiblent the Elder said under his breath, “We’ll be looking as well.”

The stronghold looked different in the daytime. The buildings that had looked so foreboding in the deep dark of night, now glistened in the light of the rising sun. She felt a strange sense of familiarity to the place that she couldn’t quite grasp until she realized that the buildings clustered near the center of the stronghold looked just like the ones in the Novadi stronghold. The memory of her trip there brought a lump to her throat. She missed Uncle Iliard already, and it was only her first day. She swallowed hard and lengthened her stride to catch up to the servant who was guiding her through the maze of buildings.

The dining hall was the largest building in the stronghold. It was built to accommodate all eight hundred Rangers if necessary—although in all of remembered history that had only happened once. The servant took Alana around to the back door of the dining hall as she said, “All of the other servants have already eaten breakfast, so you’ll have to eat in the kitchen.” Alana just nodded.

The dining hall kitchen was huge; easily three times the size of the kitchen at Castle Candril. There appeared to be about twenty people working in the kitchen, weaving around each other in a well-rehearsed dance. The air was filled with the delicious aroma of sausage. Despite her low mood, Alana felt her mouth water and her stomach rumble.

The center of activity was the enormous stove dominated by a large, dark haired woman. At the moment she was adding herbs to a big pot of stew meant for the evening meal. The servant made her way across the kitchen to the woman at the stove and stood waiting. Eventually the woman looked up from her pot and said, “Who ye got there, Moya?”

The servant blinked and replied, “Um, this is…”

“Alana,” Alana said helpfully.

The cook snorted and said, “Ye didn’t even ask her name. Shame on you Moya. Workin’ in the Lord’s house is goin’ to yer head. Go on, now. Get back to yer fancy dishes and pretty linens. I’ll take it from here.”

“I’m supposed to take her over to Lord Vistor when she’s done with breakfast,” Moya retorted crossly.

The woman waved her hand at the girl. “I’ll take her meself. Go on now.”

Moya’s face fell and, to Alana’s surprise, her eyes filled with tears. She turned and hurried out of the kitchen without another word. The woman at the stove snorted again as she watched girl leave, then she fixed her gaze on Alana. “The name’s Nessa,” she said. “And you seem a mite too fancy to be workin’ as a servant in a Ranger stronghold.”

Alana’s eyes went wide and her stomach clenched. Would she be discovered before she had even been in the stronghold for day? “I want to be a Ranger,” she replied hesitantly, “but Lord Berol said I was too young. He wants me to work as a servant for a year to make sure I’m serious about it.”

“Huh,” Nessa commented. She waved her hand at a stack of dishes on a table in the corner. “Go get yerself a plate and get somethin’ in yer belly.” I’ll take you over to Lord Vistor when yer done.”

“Thank you,” Alana replied.

“And polite too,” Nessa commented.

Alana got some sausage and eggs and sat at a small table in an out of the way corner in the kitchen. The first bite was heaven. Alana closed her eyes and said, “Mmmm, Nessa this is wonderful.”

Nessa looked over at her with a raised brow and replied, “Well thankee Miss Alana.” When Alana finished her meal, she brought her plate and utensils over to the sink and washed them. Nessa watched the young woman silently until she was finished, then said, “Well Miss Alana, I think you’ll do just fine here.” She took off her apron and hung it on a hook next to the stove. She called over an assistant and left him with the orders, “Watch the stew. Don’t let it burn.” She looked over at Alana and asked, “Are ye ready?”

Alana let out a soft sigh. “Yes.”

Nessa gave her an encouraging smile and said, “All right, come on then. Ye don’t want to keep Lord Vistor waiting.”

The dungeon beneath Castle Candril was a labyrinthine maze of cells and “interrogation” rooms that descended four floors below the castle itself. The last time Bertrand had been there was more than eighty years ago when he and Iliard had freed the people their father had imprisoned before he jumped off the South Tower.

Now as he and Neridius made their way down the winding stone staircase, memories of that trip assailed him. He remembered the stench of human filth, the moans of the inmates and the surprise of the dungeon guards who found out in no uncertain terms that he and Iliard were quite serious about freeing the prisoners. This time, the guards were expecting him and opened the iron door to let them pass.

Cranerock and Lyria were waiting for them outside Gellmy’s cell. “Well?” Bertrand asked?

Cranerock looked down the hallway toward the iron door, then over at Lyria. The Mendari nodded, closed her eyes and extended her arms out to either side of her body. After a few moments she opened her eyes and said, “They won’t hear us.”

“His mind was well protected,” Cranerock began. “Someone had taken great care to be sure his psychic defenses were virtually impenetrable.”

“How did you get through?” Bertrand asked.

Cranerock gestured to Lyria. “She got through. She went deeper than I’ve ever seen anyone go.”

Bertrand saw the respect in Cranerock’s eyes and also noted that Lyria was not showing her usual discomfort in the master spy’s presence. “So what did you find out? How did he know about Alana?”

Lyria’s lip curled in disgust. “I found out a lot more than I would have liked. You did the right thing keeping him away from Alana when she was a little girl. He is a sick, depraved monster. He’s been preying on children for decades.”

“Decades?” Bertrand repeated. “How is that possible? He’s not even forty.”

Lyria shook her head. “He’s close to eighty years old.”

“What? How? Is he an adventurer?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “He’s got some kind of condition that slows his ageing.”

Bertrand shook his head. “Where did he come from? Who sent him?”

“Like Alana said, he was sent by Warder Entoneil,” Lyria replied.

“What for?” Bertrand asked.

“I was getting to that Bert,” Lyria retorted.

“Sorry,” Bertrand murmured.

“His quest,” Lyria continued, “was to find the Heir of Jeragoth.”

Shocked silence greeted her statement. Finally Neridius said, “How could they know about that? How could they know Alana is the Heir?”

“Especially since we didn’t,” Lyria said quietly as she looked at Bertrand.

“Damn it!” Bertrand said. “How did Gellmy know it was her?”

“He said he saw the birthmark on her back,” Cranerock replied. “He called it the symbol of Jeragoth.”

Bertrand’s face grew red with rage. “When in hell did he see Alana’s bare back?”

“The day Lady Candril sent her to the post,” Cranerock answered.

“I’m going to kill that bitch!” Bertrand shouted.

“Bert…” Lyria admonished.

“Enough!” Everyone looked at Neridius in shock. In all the years he had been with Bertrand, no one had ever heard him raise his voice. His pale eyes were now steely blue with anger. Cranerock and Lyria both noticed an aura of power around him that they had never seen before. When he knew he had their attention, Neridius continued, “Now you will listen to me.”

The walk to the operations building was too short for Alana’s peace of mind. The entryway was a large arboretum and it was bustling with activity. Nessa deftly guided her through the people rushing to and fro. Occasionally someone would stop to greet the cook. A woman came up to Nessa and spoke quietly to her for a few moments. She was dressed like most of the Rangers Alana had seen, but was armed only with daggers. After she finished talking to the cook, she turned to look at Alana with a piercing gaze. “Stay the course,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” Alana replied hesitantly. The woman nodded curtly and walked away.

Nessa shook her head and muttered something under her breath. “Come on, Lord Vistor’s office is this way.” She led Alana down a far less crowded hallway to the right. The lord’s office was at the far end of the passage. The door had a brass plaque on it that read ‘Head of Operations.’ Nessa opened the door and walked in. Alana followed behind slowly. They were greeted by a sour-faced woman sitting behind a massive wooden desk. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, with faded blond hair pulled back in a tight bun. Nessa nodded curtly and said, “Ula, this here’s Alana. She’s here to see Lord Vistor.”

Ula glared at the pair. “Why did you bring her here, Nessa? Lord Vistor doesn’t have time to deal with children.” She looked at Alana and asked harshly, “Where are you supposed to be?”

Alana blinked and took a step back from the woman. “I…I don’t know, ma’am. Lord Berol didn’t say.”

Ula snorted. “As if he’d talk to the likes of you.” She pushed herself away from her desk with a sniff of impatience, went to the door behind her and knocked. A quiet voice bid her enter. Nessa and Alana heard Ula’s unpleasant voice rise above the soft murmur of Lord’s Vistor’s.

Finally the door opened and a smug looking Ula reappeared, followed by a tall slender man with short dark brown hair streaked with gray. He had the harried look of someone who had too much to do and too little time in which to do it. He looked at Nessa and Alana and said, “Nessa, why did you bring her here?”

Nessa stood up straighter and cleared her throat. “Sorry to bother you my lord,” she said, “but a servant from Lord Berol brought her over to the kitchen to have breakfast and said she was to go see you. I thought it best if I brought her seein’ as how she didn’t know where she was to go.”

Lord Vistor’s brow creased in a puzzled frown. “Why would he send her to me?” He shook his head and let out a soft sigh. “All right Nessa, you may go. I’ll take care of it from here.”

Nessa bowed her head and, “Thank you, my lord.” She gave Alana’s shoulder a quick squeeze and left the office.

Lord Vistor turned his attention to Alana. “What is your name?”

“Alana, my lord,” she replied.

He nodded. “Well Alana, what kind of experience do you have?”

Alana’s mouth dropped open and she stammered, “I…I don’t…really my lord. Not with household duties anyway. I’ve done a lot of work with horses,” she added hopefully.

Lord Vistor shook his head. “We’ve already got plenty of stable hands.” He turned to Ula and asked, “Do you know who might have need of someone?”

Ula gave Alana a nasty smirk before she answered, “Well my lord, Tannis Porter said he needed someone.”

Lord Vistor rolled his eyes. “Porter always needs someone. But, I suppose that will have to do for now.” He turned back to Alana and said, “Tannis Porter’s office is on the second floor. Go back down this hallway to the arboretum. Take the right main stairs to the second floor. Take the third hallway on the right to halfway down to a door on the right labeled Scullery Service. Knock and wait until someone answers. Report to Tannis Porter and tell him I sent you. Have you been given a room yet?”

“No, my lord,” she said in a small voice.

He made a sound of impatience. Ula piped up, “I think Hesta needs a roommate, my lord.”

Lord Vistor frowned slightly. “I suppose,” he said hesitantly. “Alana, tell Porter that you’ll be rooming with Hesta so he’s to have someone show you to your room before you begin your duties.”

“Yes, my lord,” she replied.

“All right then, you may go.” He turned and went back into his office, shutting the door behind him. Alana stood rooted to the floor. Scullery? She was to be a scullery maid? This was worse than cruel, worse than unfair.

Ula sneered at her. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get going little rat.”

Alana turned on her heel, opened the door and ran blindly down the hallway, realizing only when she got to the end of the corridor that she had turned the wrong way. She ran back out to the arboretum and found the main stairway on the right. She hurried up the staircase, weaving in and out of people as she climbed. She heard a man say, “Hey watch it!” as she veered around him and kept going.

When she got to the top of the long staircase she stopped and leaned against the wall, her breath coming in heaving gasps. She closed her eyes and fought back tears. Her hand went to the amulet she wore under her shirt—the one which would put her in instant contact with Uncle Iliard. She was sorely tempted to use it to get away from this place and…

Alana let her hand drop. And do what? Her uncle offered to bring her to the Novadi stronghold to live, but what would she do there? She couldn’t train as a Novadi warrior—almost all Novadi were Ranger lords before they were apprenticed to the order. If she left Adamnar now, Uncle Iliard would be so disappointed in her. She would also prove to Lord Berol that she was too young and too spoiled to give Ranger training everything she had. She let out a sigh. If she couldn’t handle working as a scullery maid for a year, how was she going to handle Ranger training?

She pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the long corridor to the third hallway on her right. The Scullery Service door plate was difficult to see. It hadn’t been cleaned, repaired, or replaced lately, and it was quite faded. She knocked lightly and waited. She knocked more forcefully. Still nothing. She was supposed to wait until someone answered, but she couldn’t stand in the hallway all day. She tried the doorknob and the door creaked open.

This room was a mockery of the offices of her Barony’s government in the first floor of her home. It looked like it was put together by someone who had never actually seen an office. There were piles of trash everywhere. There was no one in the room. Alana began to worry a lot.

“Who are you looking for?” a voice called from the hallway behind her.

Alana turned around to see the woman who had spoken to her down in the arboretum. “Tannis Porter,” she replied. But he’s not here.”

“Are you sure about that?” she said with a snort. She brushed past Alana into the room. “Porter!” she yelled.

One of the piles of trash behind a desk stirred. A grizzled chin became visible under a towel. A mouth opened and burped.

“What is it?” the disembodied mouth croaked.

“There’s someone here looking for you,” the woman said. She turned to Alana and asked, “What did you say your name was?”

“Alana Nadran, Ma’am,” she answered.

“I don’t know any Alana Na – who?” he said and removed the towel from his head. Alana thought he looked better with it on. She could tell he was drunk. “Well, whaddya wan’?” he asked.

“Lord Vistor has assigned me to work for you,” Alana answered.

“Wha’?” Porter squinted at her. “There ain’ much of ye,” he said.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Alana replied through gritted teeth.

“Huh,” he said, “Well, getcher supplies an’ start workin’”

“Porter, get your lazy butt up,” the woman behind Alana said. “Can’t you see the girl is still carrying her bags?”

“Eh?” He sat up straighter and looked hard at Alana. “Ye got a room?”

“Lord Vistor said I am to room with Hesta, sir.”

The woman chuckled. “Ha, someone called you sir.”

“Yeah well don’ do it again. Porter’s good enough fer me.” He turned his head and shouted, “Ferris! Get in here!”

Alana heard a scuffling sound from the back of the room and a young man appeared. He was tall, thin and frail looking, with a head of bright red hair and a face full of freckles. His clothing looked too big for him and he walked with a halting gait. “What is it Porter?” he asked wearily.

Porter pointed at Alana. “This girl needs to put ’er stuff in Hesta’s room. Show her where it is and then get her to work.”

Ferris gave Alana a speculative look. “Are you sure she’s supposed to go in Hesta’s room?”

“That’s what she said,” Porter growled. “Now get on it.”

Ferris shrugged. “All right.” He turned to Alana and said, “Come on. I’ll show you where the quarters are.”

Alana followed Ferris out of the office and back to the main stairway. “We all sleep on the third floor,” he said. His limp was more pronounced as they climbed the long staircase.

“What happened to your leg?” Alana asked.

Ferris shrugged. “Born that way.” His mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “That’s why I work for Porter. Nobody else wants me.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Just because there’s something wrong with your leg doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Ferris stopped walking and just stared at her for a long time. Then he shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody like you.”

Alana blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Nah,” he said, “You didn’t embarrass me. I’m just not used to people being nice to me.”

“Oh,” she replied. They walked in silence until they got onto the servant’s floor. Alana stopped and asked, “Ferris is there something wrong with Hesta?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Every time someone mentions me being her roommate they get all strange.”

“Well,” he began hesitantly, “Hesta can be a little…odd. She gets really attached to her roommates.”

“Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, I guess that could be annoying after a while.”

Ferris nodded. “Just be careful that’s all.” They finally got to the door of the room. “Well here it is,” he said as he opened the door for her. “Welcome to Adamnar.”

Bertrand sat on his horse in front of a small, well-lit shop, situated in the heart of the business district of Candril City. The large window showed a display of many wondrous items imported from all over Gorthus. Bertrand had little interest in the things in the window. He could procure any one of those items from its place of origin at a moment’s notice without any difficulty at all. He was much more interested in the one thing the shop contained that he could not get anywhere else in the world—Erienne.

It had been twelve years. Twelve long and lonely years since he had seen her, held her in his arms or felt her body warm against his own. So much had happened in those twelve years, both for him and for her.

Even though Bertrand had not come to Candril City to see Erienne during that time, he made sure he knew everything that was going on with her. She had worked for a tailor for eight years. It turned out she was a far better saleswoman than seamstress. She was able to find out what people needed and then sell it to them. The tailor’s business grew tremendously with her help. Then the local importer had discovered her talent and tried to lure her away from the tailor by offering her more money. The tailor had countered the importer’s proposal and offered Erienne a portion of the shop’s profits in addition her regular salary.

Then the importer died and his wife took over the business. She tried to keep the business afloat, but she did not have the same talent as her husband. Desperate, she came to Erienne and offered her a full partnership in the import business. It was an offer Erienne could not pass up. She went over to the import shop and soon business was better than ever. When the wife of the importer died, she left the business in its entirety to Erienne.

Now Erienne was a woman of no small means, well able to take care of herself. Bertrand wondered if she would even want to see him again after the way he had treated her. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until Alana was gone. Alana had been his only link to Erienne. She looked so much like her mother. On that last night, when she had walked into the reception hall, Bertrand would have sworn that it was Erienne standing there. Now Alana was gone and he didn’t know if he would ever see her again. If Alana had been his link to Erienne, Erienne was his link to sanity.

The red sun finally sank below the horizon and, one by one, the lights in the shop went out. Bertrand got off his horse and stood beside it, his heart pounding with anticipation and apprehension. Finally the front door opened and Erienne stepped outside. She turned to lock the door behind her, not even noticing Bertrand standing there. When she turned back, she froze in place. Her keys fell out of her slack fingers and she put a trembling hand to her mouth as she whispered, “Bertrand?”

Her voice was the sweetest music to his ears. He took a step forward and stopped. He still didn’t know if she was happy to see him. The darkening sky hid her beautiful face in shadows, so he couldn’t see her eyes. “Erienne,” he said hoarsely.

“Alana,” she said, “Is she all right?”

“She’s gone,” he answered. “She ran away.”

“And Iliard?” she said.

“Gone too,” he answered.

“Do you think he took her?” she asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Bert answered. He took another step forward. She made no move forward or back. “Erienne,” he said softly, “I know how badly I treated you. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I don’t have the right to ask anything from you. But there’s something I owe you and I want to make sure you get it.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said.

“Yes. I do,” he insisted. He walked toward her until he was only a hand span away from her. “I owe you the words I never said when I had the chance. Erienne, I love you. I’ll always love you, even if you tell me you never want to see me again. I just want you to know because I should have told you fourteen years ago.”

Erienne stood stock still and silent for so long that Bertrand took a step back and prepared to leave. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t go.” She stepped forward, took his hand and brought it to her lips. Bertrand felt her tears fall warm on his hand. “I don’t want you to leave. I love you. All I ever wanted was for you to love me.”

Bertrand took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Then he lifted her off her feet and held her tightly. She could feel that he was trembling. “I’m never going to let you go again,” he said hoarsely.

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