The Last Ranger: Ranger of the Titan Wilds Book 1 Page 2

  Leiyn stood ready. Dancing out of the way, she countered with a bite of a knife, finding the base of the beast's skull and pounding through. Fresh blood sprayed over her gloves.

  She'd unsheathed her blade from the jackal by the time its companions rallied. This time, they worked together, leaping at her from either side. Leiyn's hands worked independently as she met their attacks. Her left knife scored an ear, the right, an eye. Neither wound was enough to kill.

  As the jackals ripped through her jerkin and into her sides, something within her snapped.

  A sensation seared her, like someone touched hot embers to the wounds, multiplying the pain. Leiyn's senses were scrambled as she reeled. The world had gathered a different shade to it. Living things glowed, their inner fires revealed. The jackals burned brightest.

  Leiyn lashed out at them with every weapon she possessed.

  The knives felt cold and lifeless in her hands as she plunged them into the midst of those beastly fires. As the steel pierced their hides, their fires grew muted. She didn't stop. A shriek erupted from her throat, so guttural she almost didn't recognize it.

  She stabbed them until their bodies were as leeched of life as the knives that had killed them.

  The pain dulled, and the fury went with it. Leiyn stared at her arms and the blood filming them. Her hidden sense remained open, and beneath what her eyes saw, she detected the glow of her own esse, brighter even than it had been before.

  She'd stolen the jackals' lifefires.

  Her stomach turned. She thought she would be sick, but danger hadn't yet passed. With effort, Leiyn swallowed her rising gorge and raised the walls around her mahia. As her innate magic became blind, the fires around her faded, and plants and animals returned to their ordinary appearances.

  Though it shamed her to admit it, the world appeared bland without the magic.

  Focus. Be the damned ranger you're supposed to be.

  She shoved the roiling emotions away and looked beyond the forest toward the continued sounds of fighting. The battle appeared to be coming to an end. The remaining tusked jackals, eight by her swift count, seemed to lose heart before such determined resistance. The thorned lion projected another ear-splitting roar, and the jackals broke. Yapping, they tore back up the hill, returning north to the mountains from which they'd come.

  The lion turned his great head back around to stare at Leiyn through the brush. Even with the distance separating them, his gaze made her want to dance with anxiety. She avoided his eyes, but drew herself upright, trying to seem as large as possible. She wasn't small for a woman, but next to a lion, she doubted the display would count for much.

  But the lion didn't appear interested. After several moments, he shifted his gaze from her to look to her left, where Tadeo no doubt stood in a similarly defiant manner. Then, with a nonchalant air, he shook his mane, spraying droplets of jackal blood in a pink mist, and began to work his tongue over his many wounds.

  Leiyn breathed a sigh of relief, then touched a hand to the injuries the jackals had dealt her.

  She froze.

  Slowly, Leiyn lifted her left arm and stared at where the jackal had savaged it. Blood had stained the armguard around the punctures, but her forearm no longer seared with pain. Not wanting to know, but knowing she had to, she probed inside the holes with a finger.

  Her skin was whole, mended but for four small, white scars.

  Her heart migrated to her throat. She tried to swallow and found herself devoid of moisture. Not again. Saints and demons, not again.

  But if she'd learned one thing training as a ranger, it was that she couldn't deny the truth of her senses.

  "Leiyn?"

  She quickly withdrew her hand from her arm, guilty as a child caught stealing holy day treats, and looked up to see Tadeo making his way toward her through the brush. His eyes were full of concern as he looked her up and down. His appearance could be intimidating to those who didn't know him, with a prominent brow, a nose broken many times over, and skin as tough as oak, but Leiyn knew better. When he smiled, he transformed into the man who had sheltered her since she was a girl, guiding her from an immature apprentice into a cloaked and seasoned ranger. He didn't smile now, though.

  "Are you hurt?" he inquired quietly. She didn't doubt the lodgemaster had registered every spot of blood and tear in her leathers. But instead of investigating the wounds, he only touched a gentle hand to her upper arm.

  "Fine." She looked him over in return. "Though you fared better than I."

  Truth was, she wasn't sure any of the blood spotting his clothes was his. They seemed no more worn than they usually did, though the lodgemaster did wear trousers until they were more patch than original fabric.

  He flashed his usual shy smile. "Experience is the toughest armor."

  Leiyn rolled her eyes. "Alright, old man. Now's not the time for a sermon. Experience didn't keep you from stepping on that branch, did it?"

  At his wince, Leiyn immediately regretted the words. Tadeo was unfailingly forgiving of others, but the same didn't apply to himself. While he remained the deadliest ranger in the Wilds Lodge, his years were beginning to catch up to him. He couldn't step as nimbly as he once had, and the evening's misstep wasn't his first. In the Titan Wilds, any error could be your last.

  The lodgemaster quickly recovered. "I made a mistake, Leiyn; I can admit that. But you shouldn't have drawn them off. What do I always tell you?"

  She barked a laugh. "You can hardly call that rash. I saved your life, old man. If I hadn't split their attention, you would have been torn apart."

  "As you nearly were?"

  Leiyn tried to deny the ice crawling through her veins as she noticed again the abnormal brightness of her lifefire. "We both survived to tell our side. That's good enough for me."

  Tadeo eyed her a moment longer, then bowed his head. "Perhaps it is."

  While they'd been speaking, she and Tadeo had kept a watch on the remaining Wilds beast. The thorned lion, however, appeared content to lick his wounds and all but ignored them.

  She inclined her head toward the body-strewn clearing. "Suppose we'll have to wait to drive this one north?"

  Tadeo nodded, studying the lion from the corner of his eye. "Before night falls, we'll retreat. He may feel threatened by us in the darkness. We'll return in the morning. Perhaps he'll be ready by then."

  "What about the skins?" She gestured with one of her knives toward the bodies. "Have any use for mangy jackal hides?"

  "Once they're cleaned, they'll be serviceable, and we must keep the tusks. But don't skin with your anelaces. Always—"

  "—keep your weapons sharp, I know."

  They shared a grin, but mirth slipped away as they bent to the task. The conflict had been necessary, and she'd never been one to hesitate at a fight. Yet there was a sadness that came with shedding blood, even for her.

  "Your spirit touches mine," she murmured as she cut away hide from sinew, the Ranger's Lament rising of its own volition. "Rest easy, you flea-bitten beasts. Had to be you or me."

  Tadeo had long ago instilled the words in her, though she often improvised her own. Still, the Ranger's Lament honored creatures that were only living by their nature but had to die for the rangers to uphold their duty. The Ranger's Oath always came first: to perceive, preserve, and protect the people of the Titan Wilds, as only they could.

  Still, the task promised to be a long and smelly one, and with the jackals' stench seeping into her skin, Leiyn already longed for a bath. She thought of the Wilds Lodge and the hot food and comforts it would bring upon their return.

  Yet whenever she glimpsed the new scars along her arm or sides, she was reminded of her shame, the curse that could never be washed away. And so, she bent to her task and wished it would be enough to atone for her sins, knowing it never could.

  4

  HOME

  At dusk, they withdrew from the clearing to return to the last member of their party.

  "Any longer, and I migh
t have worried," Isla called as they neared. She stood before the horses, who grazed in the small meadow just behind. She was dressed the same as most rangers, sporting buckskin trousers, a wool shirt with a leather jerkin, and the pine-green cloak of their order pulled over her shoulders.

  Yet though they wore the same garb, her friend stood apart from their peers. She had an easy, innocent beauty, accentuated by wide acorn eyes and deep chestnut skin. Her close-cropped hair only highlighted the slimness of her neck. Leiyn had often teased Isla for her dainty appearance, but after spending half their lives together, she knew how tough and strong her friend could be when need called for it.

  Leiyn smiled and raised her free hand, the other carrying a sling of jackals' tusks. As they came near enough to see in detail in the gray light, her friend's expression turned to a frown, and she tugged at her ear, as she often did when concerned.

  "Maybe I should have worried after all. What happened?"

  Leiyn shrugged. "Tusked jackals."

  "That explains the stench." Isla stepped closer and set her hands on the bloody tears in Leiyn's sides. Where Tadeo had kept a respectful distance, Isla had no such compunctions. Leiyn endured her probing, knowing she couldn't avoid questions now. She'd never told her friend of her secret shame, nor did she intend to. But they'd been too close for too long to push her away now.

  Isla bent over to study the punctures. When she rose, she frowned. "Lucky. They didn't break the skin."

  "Yes," Leiyn echoed. "Lucky."

  She didn't look at Tadeo. She often wondered if he knew the truth. If so, her mentor kept his silence, as he always had before.

  "We should make camp," he said, walking past them to the horses, carrying a sling with the reeking skins. "We rise early tomorrow."

  Isla raised an eyebrow. "Still need to drive the lion north?"

  "He's had a busy evening," Leiyn supplied with a wry smile.

  Her friend sighed, then nodded. "I should have expected nothing less from you, Firebrand."

  She grimaced, repressing an urge to touch the auburn tress that had partly earned her the name, then scowled at Tadeo as he smiled. "Very amusing."

  "It is." Isla gave her a consoling pat on the arm. "And descriptive."

  Leiyn rolled her eyes, then took the opportunity to greet her horse. Tadeo's mount stood in the way, and she walked warily around the mare. Feral showed Leiyn her teeth as she passed. The two of them had never gotten along, inspiring Leiyn to give the mare her name. Like fat and water, you and I, she thought as she glowered back at Feral.

  Her mount didn't whicker as she approached and ran a hand down his muzzle, but she knew he was pleased to see her all the same. "Hey there, Steadfast," she murmured as she scratched behind his ears, making them flick as though flies buzzed around them. "You kept a good watch on Isla, didn't you, old boy?"

  The black stallion had always been a source of comfort and strength. Over their five years together, they'd grown close through many sore trials. She couldn't imagine sharing her patrols with a more loyal companion. When she felt as weak and uncertain as she felt then, he lent her silent support.

  With one last scratch, she let him return to grazing, then joined her fellow rangers in making camp.

  The next morning saw their return to the battleground. Much as she hated the stench of the beasts—their smell was unimproved by death—Leiyn enjoyed seeing Isla's astonishment at the number they'd overcome. Her satisfaction was short-lived.

  "So Tadeo killed six," Isla recounted as they led the skittish horses up the hill past those the thorned lion has slain, "and you only killed five?"

  "Seven, actually." Leiyn grinned. "Better count again."

  The lion had moved on overnight. Leiyn and Isla deferred to the more experienced lodgemaster as he kneeled in the brush to study the tracks.

  "It's a bit trampled," he said without raising his head. "But the lion appears to have gone north as well."

  "That's our duty done, then, isn't it?" Leiyn cast a droll smile at the lodgemaster's long-suffering look. "Only joking. How far should we pursue?"

  Tadeo rose and gazed northward. Above the trees rose the Silvertusk Sierra, the peaks still capped with snow that would last most of the season. The foothills were ten leagues away from where they stood. Leiyn feared she knew his answer.

  "To the foothills," he confirmed a moment later.

  Leiyn groaned and shared a look with Isla. Her friend only shrugged.

  "What'd you think this was when you signed up?" Isla reminded her. "A sketching opportunity?"

  It made Leiyn's hand itch to draw then and there. She shook her head free of the notion. There'd be time enough to note down the lion later.

  "Best not waste daylight," she said. "Lead the way, old man."

  Tadeo only arched an eyebrow, then pulled Feral after the tracks.

  They reached the foothills late in the afternoon and still didn't see the lion. Didn't like the reception, Leiyn thought as they stared at the tracks going up into the mountain. Here, the trees had thinned and the grass turned yellow from the summer heat.

  "That's as far as we go," Tadeo said as he pulled himself into Feral's saddle. The mare tried to unseat anyone else who mounted her, but she was strangely compliant when it came to the lodgemaster.

  Leiyn mounted Steadfast, while Isla followed suit with her roan, Gale. Before the others could get settled, Leiyn pressed her heels into her stallion's sides, propelling him forward.

  "Keep up if you can!" she shot over her shoulder before riding out of earshot.

  Steadfast took to the exercise at once, surging into motion. Leiyn grinned into the wind and guided him over roots and around trees as the Titan Wilds whirled by. It was rash to run so blindly through dangerous lands, but there was freedom in carelessness, and Leiyn often craved it.

  When Steadfast started panting, she slowed him among the trees and waited for the others. They caught up only a few minutes later.

  "So much for Tadeo's usual advice," Isla noted drily as Gale sauntered past, more worn than Steadfast. Tadeo's reproach was silent and mild.

  Leiyn only grinned.

  The rest of the day passed in alternating bouts of teasing conversation and companionable silence. They'd been patrolling together for a long time, since Leiyn and Isla had become apprentices under Tadeo's guidance twelve years before. In that time, he'd been both mentor and father to them, and Leiyn did not doubt he saw them just as much as daughters.

  This was her family now. But this time of year, she inevitably thought of the family she'd lost before.

  She warded away the melancholic thoughts until the Wilds Lodge rose before them. The sounds of its occupants echoed down the hill. The shouts from sparring in the yard. The calls of victory as a long shot landed on the bow range. The brays and cries of livestock being shepherded in from the nearby meadows. The dinner bell tolling, gathering all the people from their disparate activities into the great hall.

  A smile touched Leiyn's lips. The buzzing of the Lodge announced more than anything that she was home.

  They came level with the campus, and the rest of the Wilds Lodge emerged into view. It had sprawled in recent years as the rangers' population grew, but the central building, erected nearly fifty years ago, still dominated. Within were the principal rooms for its residents: the great hall, the kitchens, the lodgemaster's quarters, and the stockroom.

  From the original edifice had sprouted wings to house the growing number of occupants. The east wing held the fully inducted rangers like Leiyn. The west, which continued to expand, housed the apprentices and Lodge staff. Several auxiliary rooms had sprung up as requirements became apparent: a tool shed; another shack for the equipment needed in the range and yard; yet another for the gardens; and a barn for the growing herds and flocks to feed all the hungry bellies.

  On the south side, the yard was set up for apprentices to learn to fight with a variety of weapons, from knives to swords to spears, with the hope they would eventually master a di
scipline. Cloaked rangers used it to spar with one another and keep their skills sharp. On the north side, the archery range was also frequented, with a variety of hand-carved targets placed at different heights and distances to test a markswoman's skill.

  Leiyn had often teased Tadeo that the Lodge was far more luxurious than it should be. But no matter how the Lodge expanded, it remained a fortress at its core. A log wall, nine feet tall, encircled the campus. Only two gates, located at the southern and northern points, opened into the Lodge, and each was guarded day and night. It had been well over two decades since any had dared an attack, but even with all the other changes he implemented, and for all his insistence that the natives were now peaceful, Tadeo had never relaxed the watch.

  Their small company badly needed baths, and the tusks and pelts required attending. Hurrying through the tasks, Leiyn met up with Tadeo and Isla afterward, wringing droplets from her braid and heading into the great hall.

  As Leiyn opened the door, a wave of sound barreled over her, loud enough to make her wince. The cheery strains of a stringed gourd filled the room, Ranger Yolant once more foisting her talents upon the willing audience. Though some clapped or sang along, chatter rose from every one of the three long tables as well.

  In the far corner, the older rangers sat together, while immediately before her, the apprentices were positioned closer to where they'd catch the draft from the doors. Twenty-one strong, the apprentices ranged in age from seven to seventeen, and had just as varied temperaments. But all sat around a long table eating the Lodge's usual hardy fare, and no matter how far or close they were to becoming cloaked, they had in common that this was their home and hearth. Even the rivals among them would watch each other's backs when out in the woods.

  Leiyn recognized the current song playing, and the corners of her mouth lifted as Yolant's yodeling became clear:

  Oh, Ranger Alan was no great hero

  Yet he saved our land and lord