Rangers magic 3, p.22
Ranger's Magic 3, page 22
The next few days passed in much the same way as the first. They paddled up the long, slow stream of the river, making steady progress and stopping now and again by the bank to rest their arms and eat a little. They saw no sign of any inhabitants, neither monsters roaming the forest nor Dernwaith people in the few abandoned villages they passed. There was no smell of smoke in the air and no sign of anyone on the many overgrown paths that they saw running alongside the river. They traveled mostly in silence, each occupied with his or her own thoughts, lulled by the steady, concerted rhythm of the paddling and the slow drift of the river by their boat.
Each night, Ralnor and his friends drew the boat out of the water and slept by the bank. They made no fires, for though the nights were not warm, they were also not freezing the way that winter had been. As they moved south, they found they were moving deeper into spring. Here, the woods were thick with new growth, and wildflowers carpeted the forest floor in huge masses of blues, yellows, whites, and pale pinks. The ferns were unfurling, and birds were busy in the branches. The friends saw many deer and boar moving freely in the woods, and the abundance and confidence of the game was another sure sign that there was little to no activity from humans, elves, or Dernwaith here in the forest.
As he lay wrapped in his blanket in the evenings, waiting for sleep to claim him, Ralnor explored the amulet. Every time he looked into it, he found the same thing as before. Here was the campfire spell he’d created, and here were the minor shards and the major shards, ready for use, but there was no sign anywhere of the kind of special ability channel that he saw when he looked at the Amulet of Shem, and neither was there any suggestion of any way to charge the amulet to recover this apparently deactivated special ability.
Ralnor tried sending magic through the amulet, filling it with a flow of power that was not directed to any of the individual channels. When he did this, he thought he detected some suggestion of something hidden within the amulet, but it was so vague that he was not able to go any further with the experiment. As he worked, he could feel Farlo practicing as well. The big elf was working daily to improve his ability at channeling his own magic. Though he was not a natural or strongly talented at channeling the way Ralnor was, he still managed to improve steadily, and as time passed, he became more confident that he could channel a burst of power through the amulet if needed without suffering any ill effects. Ralnor was proud of his friend’s efforts, even as he was frustrated by the apparent failure of his own.
“Don’t get discouraged,” Lana said, putting her arm around his shoulders one evening when they took a walk together after the evening meal. “You’ve tried all you can, and perhaps something new will come out in due time. You can’t blame yourself for not having knowledge you’ve never been taught. It sounds like you’ve experimented as far as you can with the amulet, and we will just need to be patient and wait for some new knowledge or information to come to light before we can activate its special ability.”
“I guess you’re right.” Ralnor sighed and smiled. “We’ve come so far, and the powers we have are plenty to be getting on with. I should concentrate my efforts on the journey at hand.”
Ralnor and Lana had been able to take the chance to explore their relationship in new ways over the winter, but now that they were on the trail again and were focused on their role as Rangers, they had realized the necessity of letting their personal feelings for each other take a secondary priority to the mission at hand. Despite this, they still sought each other out in quiet moments like this, and both of them felt the benefit of the support they were able to give each other.
Farlo and Sena seemed to have different ideas. They were pursuing their romantic relationship with a level of enthusiasm that made Ralnor smile when he thought of it, even though he was aware that it had the potential to put them at risk. Most nights, the pair would slip away into the woods for an hour for a “walk,” as they called it and return with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, grinning from ear to ear and whispering to each other. Part of Ralnor thought that he should put a stop to this, that it was too risky for them to be going off alone out here, but another part of him felt that, even though he was technically the leader of the group, it was no longer his place to tell Farlo and Sena what to do. He did not feel like the commander of a mission but like one equal player in a group of five, all of whom had their own choices to make and their own destiny to fulfill.
After a week on the water, they abandoned their canoe in a stand of tall rushes by the river and took to the forest trails. The water had become too swift and narrow to navigate by boat, and they knew anyway that the Red River would now turn south and east, taking them in the opposite direction from where they wanted to go. They had made good progress and had begun leaving the broadleaf woods behind them and coming into the tall pine forest that ran along the northern edge of the Unclaimed Lands. If they kept on in more or less a straight line southwest, they would soon come to the edge of the forest, and from there, they would head as close to south as possible. Ralnor reckoned they could cross the Unclaimed Lands and navigate the hills through the Pass of Ghosts quickly, avoiding any possibility of being noticed by roaming human scout patrols.
From the opening of the Pass of Ghosts, there was not far to go to the Unclaimed Lands dungeon. There, they would find what they would find. Ralnor had high hopes, but he did not want to be too overconfident. Ultimately, they did not know what they would find there now. The whole mission was a gamble, but there was no other way to approach it. They would have to learn what they could when they got there.
The pine forests were familiar to the Rangers, and Akhen had lived in these woods for many years. Even though they had not been in this specific part of the forest before, the place felt familiar and welcoming to them. The huge pines, widely spaced, soared high above them, creating a deep green canopy far above. The ground was of a thick, spongy texture, built up from countless centuries of falling needles. Everywhere, there was the rich pine scent of the woods and the quiet hiss of the wind in the branches, sounding like the far-off sea.
Two days passed as they moved steadily southward, without the scenery or the landscape noticeably changing. Then, shortly after they reached their third day in the pine woodland, they saw the light change in front of them and crept to the edge of the forest to see the wide-open country of the Unclaimed Lands stretching off before them toward the Haunted Hills. Tall grass spotted with wildflowers waved sedately in the wind, and not a figure could be seen anywhere. Off in the distance, the Haunted Hills were a blue haze, but Ralnor, squinting and raising a hand to shield his eyes from the glare, thought he could see the dip that showed where the Pass of Ghosts represented the only way through that haunted range.
That pass gave them all the shivers. Ralnor remembered how hard it had been before to get through there unscathed, and as hard as it had been for himself and the elves, it was even harder for the humans. That pass was inhabited by the ghosts of a long-dead civilization, the ancient ancestors of the people who had become the Dernwaith of today. They had destroyed themselves in pride and malice, fighting each other with cruel magic, and ended up becoming trapped spirits, doomed to haunt the hills where they had lived forevermore.
They were tricksters, ghosts who used illusions and hallucinations to capture their victims’ attention and draw them out, into a dark fate that nobody could guess. Ralnor knew that Sena, in particular, would be vulnerable to the ghosts. He was in no doubt about the challenges they might face in passing through that haunted way.
“We have no other way to go,” Sena said quietly, voicing the answer to Ralnor’s thoughts before he could speak. “I’m frightened by it, but I will trust you three to get me through if I’m not able to resist the tricks of the ghosts in the haunted pass.”
Farlo put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “I’ll keep you safe.”
There being still the best part of the day ahead of them, they set off at a great pace, making straight for the gap in the hills. From where they were setting out, Ralnor reckoned that they would reach the pass a good hour before sundown. That was just as well as he had no desire to try to cross through the haunted pass after darkness had fallen. If they reached the entrance to the pass without enough time to go through before nightfall, they would have to spend the night on the plain, and equally, he wanted to avoid that if at all possible.
They did not need to discuss it. Everyone knew how important it was to get into the haunted pass before full darkness; they would make every effort to cross the open ground in time.
The wide-open grasslands in between the borders of the elf country and the land of the humans were uninhabited permanent dwellers. The only people who might regularly be found in this area were the patrolling parties of Elven Rangers of their human equivalents, the Scouts.
To the east, about a day’s journey from where they now stood, the line of elven forts that guarded the border to the elf lands was strung along the banks of the Red River, guarding the crossings and acting as a buttress against any incursion by the humans into the Greenwood. To the west, about three days’ walk in a straight line from where they were, lay the long barrier of Stoneheart’s Shield, a great stone wall and rampart that stretched north to south for miles and miles and acted as the border of Venetia, the land of the humans.
The land between was a battleground, a broad, disputed territory that had been skirmished over for at least a hundred and fifty years since the humans and the elves had settled into their respective domains after the chaos of the great Sundering had subsided.
They called it the Unclaimed Lands, and any human or elf who found themselves traveling in that land did well to be wary. It was a dangerous place for people of both kinds.
Ralnor led his party across the plain at speed, moving low and wary, keeping eyes, ears, and magical senses peeled for any sign of others in the vicinity. He did not want to trust any one of his senses too much—there were human mages who could mask their presence from his magical awareness, and the human scouts, like the elven Rangers, were masters of stealth and concealment in a land like this.
The day passed, and the sun climbed to its zenith and then passed over toward the west. The day was warm; indeed, it was the hottest weather any of them had experienced for many months, and they all wished they could stop and enjoy it, but their need to reach the haunted pass with enough time to go through before nightfall drove them on. At an hour past noon, they stopped briefly and took in a little food and drank some water, but they did not linger long. Soon after, they were up and moving again, jogging steadily through the high grasses, five small figures in their dark cloaks, dwarfed by the enormous grasslands spreading out like a placid green sea all around them.
Every hour, the blue haze of the haunted hills grew closer.
The sun hung above the western horizon when they found themselves at last standing in the yawning black entrance to the haunted pass. Ralnor looked at his companions. “Ready?” he asked.
The others nodded. Sena looked scared but resolute. Farlo, standing close to her, looked determined. Akhen and Lana stood together, gazing into the gloom before them. Lana looked grim, but Akhen gazed ahead with a look of interest on his face.
“It feels different somehow,” Akhen said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s almost as if there’s less of a sense of present danger than there was before… I’m not sure I can trust it.”
“I don’t think we should trust any feeling we get from this valley,” Ralnor said. “Don’t trust your feelings when we get in here, Akhen. Stick close to me. All of you, remember that. Stick close together and keep your mind focused on the goal—to get through. That’s all we need to do here, just to get through. If we hold together, we can do it. If we allow ourselves to be drawn away, we may well be lost. Stick close to me, and look out for each other.”
With those words, and a last glance at the sun, he plunged through the narrow gap that marked the entrance to the valley, his companions by his side.
Ralnor’s sword flickered green in the gloom inside the narrow pass through the hills. As soon as they entered, they felt the temperature drop. The pall of cold mist that hung permanently here closed around them like clammy hands, wreathing around them and making the air thick and hard to breathe.
Ralnor had not quite remembered the full oppression of this horrible place. Now that he experienced it again, he had to work hard to remember his own advice. Immediately, his mind grew dull, his emotions became heavy, and a deep gloom settled upon his soul. A glance at his friends showed him that they felt the same effect.
The feeling of his magic sword in his hand gave him confidence, and the crackling green light contrasted fiercely with the gray gloom of the mist. He had no intention of fighting in the valley—there was no chance of killing the shades of the dead—but the light and the solid weight of his trusty blade grounded him in reality.
The others drew their weapons, too, except Akhen, who raised a hand and summoned a spark of bright fire in his palm. He held this up, the orange light throwing dramatic shadows on his aged face. Sena’s sword gleamed white, and Farlo’s blade flickered with fire. Lana’s bow glimmered green with battle magic as Ralnor sent her a boost.
With the mingled lights of their magic lighting their way, they stepped out, ready as they would ever be to face the terrible fear of the Pass of Ghosts.
Chapter 15
Almost as soon as they entered the pass, the entrance behind them became obscured. The light from their swords and from Akhen’s Magic illuminated the path at their feet, but beyond the reach of the light, all was dark.
Around them, they felt the undeniable press of a gathering, malevolent presence. There were spirits here, ghosts pushing their way forward in a formless crowd, held back only by the light. As night grew deeper, Ralnor knew that the ghosts would increase in power and strength, their ability to manifest becoming greater and the fear and confusion they could sow becoming ever more dangerous.
He tried to hurry, tried to keep his companions moving, and tried to keep his mind grounded with the knowledge that the ghosts were not real. The feelings of gloom and terror were not real. There was a whole world outside this horrible valley, and if they just kept moving, they would soon be out of it and away from the terrible, soul-sapping influence of the denizens of this place.
“Soul-sapping,” he said out loud, and the sound of his own voice, thick and slurred as if he spoke in his sleep, jolted him back to awareness.
“Come on, you,” Lana said with a drawn smile, catching his arm and chivvying him along. “You were warning us to stick together and avoid the influence of this place, but after all, it seems that you need our help more than we need yours!”
Ralnor looked about. He had lagged a little behind. The others had stopped, pulling him back and drawing him closer to them. Akhen, Sena, and Lana all looked alert and aware of their surroundings, though they were all looking scared.
Farlo, on the other hand, looked dreamy and confused. He was staring into the mist, and his sword was sinking in his hand. “Look to Farlo,” Ralnor said, and Sena immediately stepped toward him, taking his arm. Against Ralnor’s predictions, it actually seemed that it was he and Farlo who were most in need of support.
Akhen glared around. “This is completely different from how it was before,” he said, sounding angry and confused. “Something is going on. I can barely feel the presence of the ghosts, but I know they are here.”
“Me, too,” Lana said. “The presence is far away, and I feel little threat from them.”
“Nor I,” Sena confirmed.
Ralnor looked at them in amazement. He spoke with an effort as if through a drugged daze. “I feel it more strongly than ever,” he gasped.
Farlo was gazing emptily out, his eyes unfocused and his mouth slack. His usually straight shoulders were sagging, and his sword hung at his side, the fire flickering along it still, but the blade pointed at the ground. He looked as if he might drop it.
Ralnor glanced over his shoulder, but Lana shook her head firmly, guessing his thought. “We cannot go back,” she said. “We must press on. Sena, keep hold of Farlo’s arm and lead him. I will keep hold of Ralnor. We must get them through. Akhen, take the lead. Make that light in your hand stronger if you can. This valley feels endless, but it's not actually that far. If we press on, we’ll get through, and then Farlo and Ralnor will be alright.”
Ralnor allowed himself to be led by Lana, and the little party started forward again. Lana had taken charge of the situation, and Akhen and Sena had both taken confidence from her certainty. They followed her instructions, Sena keeping a firm hold of Farlo’s arm and Akhen boosting the power of the light in his hand, sending a wide globe of illumination out into the mist. As the light surged, they caught a momentary glimpse of shadowy figures clustered at the edge of the light like dark moths against a bright window. A moment later, the shadows withdrew again, and all that remained was the chill fear of their presence.
Through the mist around them, there came a sibilant hiss as of many agitated voices, then all was silent again.
The path under their feet must once have been a handsome, well-laid road of flagstones. In the olden days, this pass would have been a busy trade route through the hills, and it was still well-laid and mostly intact. There was moss growing on the flagstones, and here and there some diligent plant had managed to shift a flagstone or crack a slab, but the plants did not seem to grow as well or as lushly as they did elsewhere. Ralnor guessed it was the effect of the constant mist. Not good for growing things, he thought.
