A Ranger From Adamnar
Chapter 33

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Alana smiled at Ben’s words and snuggled closer to him. Something was wrong. Ben wasn’t moving. She couldn’t hear him breathing. She turned to face him. His chest was covered with blood. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Alana leapt up and found that she was surrounded by broken and dismembered bodies. She looked down and saw that there was blood on her hands.

Alana gasped and jolted awake. Her heart was racing and she was covered in sweat. She sat up, put her head in her hands and began to cry. Three months. Three long, dark, empty months had gone by since the battle and nothing had changed. Sleepless nights woven with dreams of the dead for three months. She could see no end to the pain. All she saw ahead of her was darkness.

She finally forced herself to get out of bed, grateful at least that she didn’t have to lead a patrol this day. The sun was well up by the time she got showered and dressed. She made her way slowly over to the dining hall. She wasn’t really hungry, but she knew she had to eat something. As she crossed the compound, she saw that Merchant Torella’s supply caravan had arrived sometime that morning.

The dining hall was nearly empty by the time Alana got there, which suited her just fine. She grabbed herself a plate of food and sat in the most remote corner she could find. Halfway through her meal, she pushed her plate aside and left the dining hall. She went back across the compound towards the stables, hoping that a long ride on Starlight would lift her spirits.

“Alana!”

Alana turned to find Torson hurrying after her. She stopped and waited for him.

“I was hoping to catch you before you disappeared,” he said once he caught up to her. “A bunch of us are going to the tavern tonight to hear the Bard play. Why don’t you come with us? It’ll be fun. I hear he’s pretty good.”

Alana looked up at him, then down at the ground. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not...” She stopped, unable to come up with a good reason not to go. “I don’t know,” she finished lamely.

Torson took one of her hands in his. “Come on, Alana. Come have some fun with us. You haven’t been out to the tavern in ages.” After a moment’s pause, he took her other hand and said softly, “You can’t mourn him forever. He wouldn’t want you to.”

Alana looked down at the hands that held hers and then up at Torson’s face, surprised at the gesture and the look in his eyes. “Torson, I…”

“Please say you’ll think about it,” he said earnestly.

Alana smiled slightly and looked down. “All right, I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” He squeezed her hands and then let go. “We’re going right after supper.” He turned to leave, but then turned back. “I almost forgot. Laren was looking for you. She just brought her patrol in.”

“Um...all right,” Alana replied. “Thanks for telling me.” She hurried towards the stables. She didn’t want to meet up with Laren right now. She really just wanted to be alone.

The sun was low on the horizon by the time Alana made her way back to the stronghold. As she rode past the stone crypts, she saw another Ranger kneeling beside one of them. Her head was bowed and Alana could hear that she was crying softly. Alana’s chest tightened and her throat constricted. She turned her head she rode by and went as quickly as she could through the gates.

Her ride had not done much to ease her mood. She spent most the time thinking about Ben and the battle. She brought Starlight back to the stables, took off his saddle and bridle and started to brush him. The horse seemed to sense her mood because, every time she got near his head, he tried to nuzzle her. She had just knelt down to check his hooves, when two other Rangers came in to stable their horses.

“Did you hear Alana’s patrol got attacked again yesterday?” she heard the female Ranger ask.

“So?” the male Ranger replied. “Everybody’s patrol gets attacked. That’s why we have patrols.”

“But that was the third time this week,” the woman said. “People are starting to say she’s cursed.”

The male Ranger made a sound of disgust. “Come on. That’s stupid. She’s one of the best fighters in the stronghold. Lord Chasimar probably put her patrol on a more dangerous track pattern.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically, “But I was on the north wall near her patrol group on the day of the battle. I saw the T’Rundi leader go after her. He pushed everyone aside trying to get to her. Ben Hadrigan died because he tried to get in between them. A lot of people are starting to think the T’Rundi attacked the stronghold just to get to her.”

“But why?” he asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. She’s only been a Ranger for a year. How would anybody even know she existed?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I mean how can she resurrect people? She’s supposed to be a Ranger, not a Priest.”

“I don’t know,” he said uncertainly.

“Well, I do,” she retorted. “I’m going to do my best to stay away from her. There’s something about her that brings bad luck. I’d advise you to do the same.”

The man murmured a response that Alana couldn’t hear because they were walking out of the stables. She sat on the dirt and straw with tears pouring down her face. They were right. She was cursed. She would bring nothing but death to the stronghold and everyone in it. The darkness of her life loomed in front of her like a shroud. There was no way out. The pain would never end.

Alana ran out of the stables toward the north gate.

“Alana, where are you headed?” she heard Lord Waylan shout after her. She ignored him and kept running right out the still open north gate. There was only one way to end the pain.

Laren scanned the crowded dining hall. Alana was nowhere to be seen. She spotted Lord Berol, Lord Cartyet and Lord Chasimar sitting at a far table and went over to them.

“Excuse me, Lord Berol,” Laren said, quietly.

Lord Berol looked up at her, “What can I do for you, Laren?”

“Have you seen Alana?” she asked.

Lord Berol shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Have you checked her quarters?”

“Yes, my Lord, Laren replied. “And I checked the temple, the infirmary and the library.”

He frowned slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, my Lord,” Laren answered. “I guess I’ll try the riding arena.” She turned and walked quickly out of the dining hall.

“I’m worried about her,” Lord Chasimar said after Laren left.

“Who, Laren?” Lord Cartyet asked.

“Of course not,” Lord Chasimar replied impatiently. “I’m worried about Alana.”

“Why?” Lord Berol asked.

“She’s not herself,” Lord Chasimar replied.

“Is she not performing up to standard?” Lord Cartyet asked.

Lord Chasimar rolled her eyes. “Do either one of you pay attention to your Rangers?”

Lord Berol turned to face her. “Maralene, what’s this all about?”

“It’s about Alana. She’s suffering somehow. She’s fine when she’s leading patrols. She never misses a thing and always brings her people back alive. She comes in every evening and gives me her report.”

Lord Berol’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So, what’s the problem?”

“That’s all she does,” Lord Chasimar answered. “She comes in, gives her report and leaves. She says nothing else. She barely even looks at me when she speaks. She never smiles. Her friends tell me she never goes to the tavern with them. Bruny said she hasn’t been to the temple since the battle. She goes riding, but always alone. She barely talks to anyone except Laren, who I know has been trying desperately to get her involved in life at the stronghold again. She’s like a ghost, wandering about the stronghold, avoiding people as much as possible. I’m very worried.”

He remembered Terin Novar Arianna’s warning. “Do you think she might try to…hurt herself?” Lord Berol asked quietly.

“I think it’s a possibility,” Lord Chasimar replied. “You saw how worried Laren looked. She knows Alana better than anyone here.”

“Do you think we should tell Master Iliard?” Lord Cartyet asked.

“I don’t know,” Lord Berol said. “Maybe. He and Alana had a falling out. He didn’t say what it was about, but he seemed pretty upset. I know she hasn’t written him any letters since the battle.”

“You might need to call on him anyway,” Lord Chasimar said.

“You might be right, Maralene,” Lord Berol replied. “Maybe…” He stopped speaking and titled his head as if he were listening to something.

“What is it,” Lord Cartyet asked.

“I don’t know,” Lord answered as he stood. “Something strange is happening in the forest.

Lord Chasimar looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a slight shake of his head. He stood up and said, “I’m going to see what it is.”

After he left, Lord Cartyet turned to Lord Chasimar and asked, “So, how long before he leaves us for Novadi training?”

“Not long, I suspect,” Lord Chasimar answered.

Laren stood outside the dining hall, her fists clenched in frustration. Where the hell was Alana? She knew Alana wasn’t in the riding arena because she had already checked the stables and Starlight was still there. Alana had been avoiding her all day. Laren knew something was very wrong. Waylan had come looking for Laren after he saw Alana run out the north gate. How was she going to find Alana before she did something stupid? She closed her eyes to try to think. Immediately she saw Alana slumped at the base of the tomb that housed Ben’s ashes, a bloody, unsheathed dagger lying on the ground next to her.

“Damn!” Laren set off at a run.

The front gate had been closed and locked for the night and Laren was having a difficult time convincing the Ranger on gate duty to let her out.

“Only Rangers going out on patrol and coming in from patrol are allowed through the gate after dark,” he said stubbornly.

Laren’s voice rose to near hysteria. “Damn it, Ranger! I need to get out there now!”

“What’s the problem here?”

Laren turned around at the sound of Waylan’s voice. Before the gate guard could speak she said, “Lord Waylan, I have to get out. Alana’s out there! She’s…” Laren’s eyes widened with panic and fear. “Please, you have to let me out.”

Waylan stared at her silently for a brief moment, then nodded. He turned to the gate guard and said, “Let her out.”

“But my Lord…”

“Do you have a problem following orders, Ranger?” Waylan asked in a low voice.

“No, my Lord,” the Ranger answered as he hurried to open the gate.

“Thank you,” Laren said as she ran through.

“Come see me later, Laren,” Waylan called out at her retreating form.

Laren heard him but didn’t answer. She broke into a full run as she made her way around the wall to the tombs, only slowing down when she got to the edge of the sacred ground. Alana was still in same position as Laren had seen in her vision. Her body was frighteningly still.

Laren raced over to her friend. “Gods, please…” She rolled Alana onto her back. There was a long bloody gash on her left arm that went from her wrist to halfway up her forearm. It looked like Alana had tried to slash her other wrist, but lacked the strength in her maimed arm to do so. The younger woman’s face was pale and her lips were the faintest tinge of blue. Tears slipped down Laren’s cheeks. “Damn it runt, you can’t do this.”

Laren put her ear to Alana’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. For a few, terrifying, moments there was nothing. Then she heard it—the faintest pulse, the slightest movement of air in her friend’s lungs. Laren let out a gasp of relief. “Thank the gods.”

Without really thinking about it, Laren recited a prayer of healing like she had done it every day instead of—so far—twice in her entire life. The ugly wound on Alana’s arm closed up and her breathing deepened. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around, confused for a moment about where she was. Then she saw Laren and reality came crashing down hard. “Noooo,” she moaned.

Laren sat down and gathered Alana into her arms. “Come on runt, you know you can’t go out that way.”

“Please, just let me go,” Alana pleaded. “It hurts too much.”

Laren sighed and held her friend closer. “I know, but I can’t. You know that, right?”

“I’m so tired,” Alana said. “I just want to sleep and never wake up.”

Laren felt a frisson of fear run up her spine. “Alana please, just come back to the room with me. I’ll stay with you and we’ll work this out. Besides,” she added, “The three gods you work for aren’t going to let that happen.” As soon as the words came out Laren knew she had made a huge mistake.

Alana’s body stiffened. She looked up at Laren and said, “What did you say?”

“Damn,” Laren swore softly. “Listen, Alana, I was going to tell you, I just could never find the right time.”

Alana struggled to get out of Laren’s grasp. Her voice rose to near hysteria. “Tell me what? What are you saying?”

Laren saw Lord Berol out the corner of her eye. He didn’t approach, he just stood at the edge of the row of sarcophagi, ready if she needed him. Laren was grateful because she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep hold of Alana if she really wanted to get away. She took a deep breath and tightened her hold on her friend. “That night, after the battle, when we brought you to Lord Berol’s quarters, the High Priestess Islene found the Priest mark of Aniyatomei on your back.”

Alana’s whole body went rigid and she seemed to collapse in on herself. “No,” she whispered. “She couldn’t…she wouldn’t…” A sob tore through her, the sound causing Laren’s heart to break. “She was my mother when my own mother didn’t want me.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “How could she?”

Laren pull her closer. “I don’t know. She must have a good reason, though.”

Alana’s body stiffened again and she began to struggle in Laren’s grasp. “Let me go!” Laren tried to hold on but, in her frenzy, Alana was too strong for her. She broke free from her friend’ grasp and leapt to her feet. She backed away from Laren. “Leave me alone!” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Laren go to her feet and approached Alana cautiously. Her eyes slid to the place where Alana’s dagger still ay on the ground. She saw Lord Berol shift his position behind the hysterical younger woman and hoped one of them could move fast enough to intercept Alana if she tried to go for the dagger again. “Come on runt, let’s go back to our room so we can talk about it. It’s getting cold out here and it feels like it’s going to rain.”

“NO!” Alana shouted. She kept moving away from Laren, but for every step back she took, Laren took one forward. Alana looked up to the heavens and raised her arms in supplication. “What do you want from me?!”

The trees behind Alana began to sway and Laren was almost certain she felt a slight tremor beneath her feet. She stepped to closer to her friend. “Alana, come on. Let me help you.”

“Stay away from me!” Alana shouted. “Leave me alone! Why doesn’t everyone just leave me alone?” She pointed skyward. “They only leave me alone when I need them. Ben died and I heard nothing. Not a word of comfort from any of them. All I heard was ‘You must work for us Alana,’ ‘Heal the wounded,’ ‘Raise the dead.’ Except Ben. ‘He runs in my forests now,’ she told me.” A ragged sob tore through her. “She wouldn’t let me bring him back. I did everything she asked and got nothing in return. And now I have to leave the stronghold because it’s my fault the T’Rundi attacked. All those people died because of me. Lord Berol knows it. He won’t talk to me. He won’t even look at me because he knows I’m to blame. When I leave here, I’ll have nothing. I’ll be nothing.”

The sounds of Alana’s hoarse sobs filled the air. The swaying of the trees grew more violent, the torches surrounding the tombs flickered wildly and Laren was convinced now that she felt the ground trembling, all in response to Alana’s profound grief and pain. Laren met Lord Berol’s gaze and she wondered what he thought of Alana’s diatribe.

Laren saw the moment Alana’s gaze fell on her discarded dagger. The bloodied weapon still lay close to the sarcophagus that held Ben’s and many other Ranger’s ashes. “Alana, don’t,” she warned, but her friend was already on the move toward the dagger. Everything from that point happened in a blur of motion. Alana lunged for the blade while Laren grabbed for Alana. Meanwhile, Lord Berol somehow got from the edge of burial ground to Alana’s dagger in the blink of an eye.

Laren wrapped her arms around her friend and held tight. Lord Berol picked up the blade, noting the bloodied edge and looked at Alana in concern.

“Let me go!” Alana shrieked as she fought to get away from Laren.

Laren just tightened her grip. “There’s no way I’m letting you go. You wouldn’t let me go. Now I’m not letting you go. I’m in this for the long run—do you understand me?”

Alana struggled harder and shook her head vehemently. “No! You can’t. Then you’ll die too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Laren said firmly. “And I’m not letting you go.”

“No,” Alana sobbed. “Please, no. I don’t want to lose you too.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Laren said. “You know I can find you wherever you are.”

Alana tried one last time to pull herself away from Laren, then her knees buckled and she slumped to the ground. Laren went down with her and held her friend while she wept. “Damn you,” Alana murmured.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Laren replied. “You can be mad at me all you want. I’ll still be here.” Laren could hear the groaning of the swaying trees and the whistling of the wind as it careened through the stone tombs.

“Laren, you should bring her inside,” Lord Berol said quietly. “It’s going to rain.”

Laren started slightly at the sound of Lord Berol’s voice since he had been silent for the whole encounter up to that moment. She looked up and saw that the stars and moons were now hidden by clouds and she could hear the distant rumble of thunder. She nodded and said, “Come on Alana, let’s go in. I don’t want to get wet.” Alana didn’t resist when Laren pulled her to her feet.

“Does she need healing?” Lord Berol asked.

“I took care of it,” Laren replied, hoping he wouldn’t probe too deeply.

He simply nodded and said, “The north gate is closer.”

“That’s probably not a good idea right now, my Lord,” Laren replied.

It took a moment, but then Lord Berol’s eyebrows went up slightly and he nodded his head. “Right. We’ll go in by the front gate.”

The rain was just starting to fall when they got inside the gate. Lord Waylan, Lord Chasimar and Lord Cartyet were waiting for them. Laren looked over at the group and said, “Lord Chasimar, I need someone to take my patrol tomorrow.”

Lord Chasimar nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How is she?” Lord Cartyet asked.

Laren’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You should have asked that a few weeks ago.”

Lord Cartyet took a step forward to reprimand her, but Lord Berol snapped, “Let it go Aidan.” He turned away from his second and said, “Laren, take her back to her quarters and stay with her. I’ll come by later to see how she’s doing.”

“Yes, Lord Berol,” Laren replied.

After Laren and Alana left, Lord Chasimar said, “I don’t really think it was necessary to tell Laren to stay with Alana.”

“I know,” Lord Berol replied. “I just felt like I had to say something.”

“You mean you felt like you should start acting like you gave a damn.”

Lord Chasimar turned to Waylan, “That was uncalled for.”

“Like hell it was,” Waylan retorted. “He’s lord of this stronghold.”

“He’s right, Maralene,” Lord Berol said. “I’ve been ignoring the signs.” He heard a slight noise and noticed that the gate guard was staring at them. He cleared his throat. “We should go into my office before the rain gets worse.”

The four of them walked quickly to Lord Berol’s office. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Lord Cartyet said, “Look, it’s nothing against Alana, I understand how she feels, but she’s not the only one who lost someone in the battle.”

“Yes,” Lord Berol replied, “but she knows that she’s the one the T’Rundi came for. She blames herself for every death.” He paused then added softly, “And so did I.”

Lord Chasimar stared at him aghast. “You cannot be serious. How could she possibly be responsible? She had no idea about any of this. She has been kept in the dark about the true nature of her life path. If wanted to blame anyone, you would have to blame Master Iliard. And even then you cannot blame him because he warned us that this might happen and he gave you the choice to deny Alana entrance into the stronghold.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Maralene,” Lord Berol retorted in frustration. “I think about it every day.”

“And yet somehow you thought you were justified in blaming Alana?”

“Hold on, Maralene,” Lord Cartyet protested. “I don’t think Master Iliard prepared us for a battle of this magnitude.”

A snort of derision drew their attention to Waylan, who was leaning against the closed door with his arms folded across his chest. “Exactly what kind of battle were you expecting? I believe the word Master Iliard used was war. Did you think he was exaggerating?”

“I…I don’t know,” Lord Berol replied. “It never occurred to me that it would really happen.”

“He’s a Novadi, Van,” Waylan said, “he can see the future, something you’ll no doubt understand soon enough.”

“If he knew it was going to happen, then why would he put this stronghold in danger?” Lord Cartyet asked curtly.

“Are you a Ranger or not?!” Waylan shouted, as he pushed himself away from the door. “Did you somehow expect the life of a Ranger to be safe?”

“No, of course not,” Lord Cartyet answered. “But…”

“But what? It’s supposed to be predictable? You three amaze me. You stand there pointing fingers at each other and everyone else, but you’ve forgotten one important thing—that girl that we’re supposed to be watching over, teaching and protecting, tried to kill herself tonight and not one of you did a damn thing to stop it.”

“I hardly see her,” Lord Cartyet protested.

“I did try to do something,” Lord Chasimar said.

“What?” Waylan challenged. “Did you talk to her or did you just ask questions and hope someone else would do something?” Lord Chasimar’s face reddened and she looked away from him.

“What in all the hells were we supposed to do?” Lord Berol asked angrily.

Waylan crossed the room and stood nose to nose with Lord Berol. “Act like a stronghold lord, for one thing, instead of acting like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way,” Waylan retorted. “Anyone could see Alana was hurting and yet you ignored her. I saw you comforting other Rangers in this stronghold, but never once did you go to her. That girl never asks for special treatment but she damn well deserves it. She fought on that wall for hours, was wounded and had to watch her lover die. Then she went around the wall and healed and resurrected hundreds of your Rangers. Did you even bother to thank her?”

Lord Berol stared at Waylan, unable to respond to the older Rangers’ accusations. Finally he bowed his head. “I…don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything to me, but you’ve got a whole lot to say to Alana.”

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