The Shadow of Narwyrm: The Complete Trilogy: Rangers of Laerean

By Tom Fallwell

The Rangers of Laerean are the protectors of the people, the heroes of Hir. Their exploits are legendary and their great deeds recounted in tales across the ages. These are the stories that will be told for generations.

The forces of shadow conspire against the Rangers and the land to bring about total chaos and destruction. Baric finds himself embroiled in a dark plot to put an end to all civilized races and must find a way to stop the terror. Finding new friends along the way, Baric learns about the past Eras of Hir and the about the creatures called, the Mythica. He soon realizes he is battling forces that have been in contention since the beginning of time, and it will take all his strength and willpower to overcome against the Shadow of Narwyrm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Essentia Press
• Release date: Apr 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393933120

Tom Fallwell

Early in his life, Tom Fallwell discovered a love for the wonderful escape into realms undreamed of through books of Fantasy and Science-Fiction. Weaned on greats like J.R.R. Tolkien, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Robert E. Howard, Roger Zelazny, Robert A. Heinlein, and Michael Moorcock, to name a few, Tom's imagination was forever inspired by those marvelous tales.One day, he discovered a simple book of medieval battle rules called Chainmail, by Gary Gygax, and found a new love. The love of creating adventures and stories of his own for other players to experience. Chainmail evolved into Dungeons & Dragons, and Tom played consistently with friends as both a player and a dungeon master (DM). Such activities fueled his desire to create worlds and stories from his own imagination.Now retired after a long career as a software developer, Tom now writes about all the adventures and characters that constantly fill his mind, and gleefully shares them with the world.

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the memory of Greg Garrett, a wonderful friend and fantastic artist, whom many of us miss dearly. Greg was instrumental in the original visualization of two of the characters told in these stories, Baric and Jagg, many years ago. I pray he can see this book and this dedication, from the peaceful place where he now resides. God Bless you, Greg.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I must give glory to God, the source of all my talents and skills, and my guide and conscious in this world. Without Him, I am nothing, and to Him, all I owe.

I have had so many people encouraging me and supporting me since I started down this road as a writer of novels a few years ago, and I cannot possibly list them all here, but I wish to ensure that each of you knows how much your support is appreciated.

I want to give a very special thanks to Jeri, for her continued and dedicated friendship and support. Also, a special thanks to Judy, my number one fan and long-time friend and confidant, who is more like family than just a friend. Thank you both, from my heart, for believing in me.

Foreword

The Rangers of Laerean (Series)

The Shadow of Narwyrm Trilogy is a complete story revolving around the legendary Rangers of Laerean and their world of Hir in the Fourth Era. This book is a combination of the original three books that told the full story. This book includes: A Whisper in the Shadows, Where Shadows Fall and The Shadow of Narwyrm. The timeline of future novels and stories may be in the past or future from the time of this trilogy, and may involve the same or different characters than those that appear here.

The Geography of Hir

The Lands of Hir are divided into two distinct sections by what is generally called the Great Divide. This is the area formed by the Nilsora Escarpment, the Boiling Sea and the Lava Plains. Lower Hir is the region north of this division, while the southern region is referred to as Upper Hir. This is due to the land elevation being higher just south of the Great Divide, though it gently slopes downward as it reaches the Southern Sea. These terms are used throughout this story.

You can find a map of The Lands of Hir, and information about the lore and more information on the website of the author. http://www.tomfallwell.com/rangers-of-laerean-series.html

The Calendar and Climate of Hir

The Calendar of Hir is divided into 12 months of 30 days each, making the year 360 days long. Scholars agree that the Great Disruption ended what is generally called the Third Era, and the Fourth Era began.

For the sake of simplicity and to provide understanding of the current date during these stories, the months of the calendar begin with the letter A and end with the letter L. So, the numeric month can be quickly determined by the first letter in the name of the month.

Winter: Arthas, Bando, Caseph

Spring: Doron, Everthor, Fortheal

Summer: Gifuren, Hesred, Isenjen

Autumn: Jenward, Kenwil, Laclin

Throughout this book, the date of events is noted so that an accurate time line can be derived.

The climate of Hir is typical of the climate one would find in North America today. The southernmost part of Hir is close to tropical, while the Frozen Sea to the north of Hir is glacial and arctic.

Part I: A Whisper in the Shadows

Copyright © 2017 Tom Fallwell

Prologue

Fortheal 25, 2022 F.E.

He was standing outside a cave, in some part of the vast forest, surrounded by oaks and maples, with a few elms here and there. The tall grass covered his ankles as he slowly entered the large cave opening, moving forward into the darkness. Yet somehow, he could see despite the obscure and clouded visibility.

The cave opening was a tunnel, leading deeper into the rock, and he followed it slowly. He wondered why he was not armed, as he carried no weapon, and yet he did not fear what lay ahead. He felt no sense of danger to himself as he continued down the wide tunnel.

The tunnel opened into a large cavern, and he could see a large bear matron and several cubs lying in the recesses on the sides of the area, but they paid him no attention as he walked to the center of the chamber. There was some strange altar or pedestal and sitting upon it was a small statue of a bear, standing upright, great paws raised and mouth frozen into a roar of challenge.

The statue appeared to be made of pure glass, or possibly diamond, clear and beautiful. As he touched the statue, an image began to materialize before him, the image of the great bear represented by the statue. He was now facing the largest grizzly he had ever seen. Standing over twelve feet tall on its hind legs, the beast was huge and powerful and he felt a single swipe of one of those giant paws would crush him like a twig.

Suddenly, he could hear a voice in his mind, the voice of the bear, speaking to him.

Do you know who I am? asked the deep, gruff voice.

You are Odris, the Bear Spirit, said the large man.

Yes, and you bear my namesake, Baric of Elsu. You have a destiny and I am bound to guide you on your path.

Bound? Baric asked. By whom?

By He who knows all things, replied Odris. You have a long journey ahead of you, a destiny that will lead to great things, but it will begin with something small. Only a whisper. Remember this that I tell you now. Power will corrupt even the most faithful, if their will is not strong. Beware of such power, and keep your will strong.

I don't understand, said Baric, but the image of Odris was fading.

He felt himself being pulled by unseen tethers back out of the cave, away from the vision, back into the forest. The whole scene seemed to waver, like an image reflected in the water of a pool, ripples destroying the coherence of the dream.

Awaking from the dream, Baric rubbed his eyes in wonder. Such an odd dream. Then he turned over and went back to sleep. In the years that followed his initiation into the ranks of the Rangers of Laerean, he forgot all about the dream. It would be a long time before he again remembered his audience with Odris, the Spirit of the Bear.

Chapter 1

Isenjen 17, 2026 F.E.

The late summer sun shone down brightly on the busy city of Laerean. The day was clear and mild, with only a few small, billowy clouds high in the sky. The walled city of Laerean was home to around four hundred thousand people, surrounded by wooden barricades with high wooden towers, and occupying about fifty square miles on the western edge of the Laerean Forest.

Typical of many minor cities of men in Hir, Laerean was made notable by the large keep that served as the headquarters for the renowned Rangers of Laerean, the great structure known as Greenkeep. A large complex, built almost entirely of wood, it was second in stature only to the stone palace of Duke Roland IV, who ruled Laerean and the surrounding lands in the name of King Thaed, ruler of the region of Elsu.

The entrance to Greenkeep was a wide staircase leading up to a large set of intricately carved double doors. To the left side of the keep was an entrance to the stables. Climbing the stairs to enter this magnificent structure, was a man who grew up on legends and stories of the great Rangers. He had always dreamed of becoming a Ranger, a dream that had come true for him at the age of twenty-three.

In the four years since his induction into the ranks of the famed organization, Baric had distinguished himself as being someone exceptional. The current commander of the Rangers, Captain Ronan, had come to trust Baric and depend on him to get things done, just as he was doing today. Ronan had sent word for Baric to report to his office immediately.

Entering the keep, Baric walked through the great Hall of Heroes, which contained memorials and monuments dedicated to those Rangers who had lost their lives in service to the people of Hir. The large room was lit by two great candelabra hanging from the ceiling, each holding a score of candles that were always kept lit and replaced when needed. Two Rangers always stood guard in this room, constantly at attention. They remained unflinching as Baric walked past.

Baric rushed through the room and into the spacious hallways beyond, his huge bulk forcing others to the side. Baric's muscular frame stood six and half feet in height and weighed a good two hundred and fifty pounds. He took up a good portion of the narrow, wood-paneled corridor that led to the Captain's modest office.

His green linen cloak, of a cut and design that identified to all that he was a Ranger of Laerean, flowed behind him as he moved swiftly down the passage. He was dressed in a hardened leather jerkin and pants, with soft leather boots that thumped on the wooden floor. A long dagger was sheathed in his belt, the only weapon he now carried. Stopping at the Captain's door, Baric knocked and waited.

Come in, came Ronan's voice from behind the door, and Baric opened it and entered. Ronan looked up from his desk as the large man entered his small office, and smiled. Ronan was very familiar with the tanned, full-bearded face that looked at him expectantly. The hood on Baric's cloak was down, revealing his long, thick brown hair, and his blue eyes gazed at Ronan cordially.

You wanted to see me, Captain? queried Baric, wondering at the urgency of the request that he had received only a short time ago.

Ah, Baric, sighed Ronan. Ronan was an impressive man, not for his size or stature as much as for his commanding presence. He had been Captain of the Rangers for twelve years now, and had the respect of all his fellow Rangers and the ambassadors of the rulers of Lower Hir, whom he had to treat with daily. His forty-six years with the Rangers had earned him that honor and recognition. He was a tall man, of slight build, with hair that was beginning to gray and highlight his ruddy complexion.

He stood, walking around the desk, and extended a hand. How was your last assignment, lad?

Baric grinned and shrugged as he shook Ronan's hand in a brotherly clasp. Nothing to speak of. The farmers are happy now that their livestock are no longer being carried off by that worrik.

Ronan nodded as he returned and sat back down, and Baric sat in a seat in front of the desk. Nasty creatures, those. Vicious as wolves, and twice as cunning, said Ronan.

Fortunately, there was only the one, stated Baric, remembering the difficulty he had killing the giant wolf-like creature that was almost as big as he was. You’ve another assignment? Baric asked.

Ronan nodded. We have a request for assistance from the Vaar'da. This is an abnormal request, as you know. We do not usually get involved in the affairs of Upper Hir without a direct petition from the ruling governments there. As always though, in such cases, I seek volunteers rather than order a Ranger so far from home. So, it is up to you if you wish to pursue this mission.

What’s the request? Baric was intrigued, but wanted more information.

Ronan smiled slightly and rose to open his office door, speaking to a Ranger standing guard out in the hall. Bring the Vaar'da emissary to my office.

Yes sir, said the Ranger and he rushed away. Ronan shut the door again and returned to his seat.

The Vaar'da have sent an emissary with their request, said Ronan. I will let her give you the particulars.

Baric raised his eyebrows. Her? He had seen male Vaar'da before, but never a female. They were a small, lithe and graceful people, dark-skinned, with large almond shaped eyes and pointed ears. He was curious about the appearance of their females.

Ronan nodded and grinned, knowing exactly where Baric's mind was wandering. Yes, and she is quite exotic.

Baric smiled, realizing Ronan had guessed his thoughts. The office door suddenly opened and the Vaar'da emissary stepped into the room. Baric and Ronan both stood up respectfully as she entered and gave her a short bow.

She was indeed exotic, and very beautiful. She stood about five feet tall, taller than the males Baric had seen, and she had large, pale blue eyes. Her skin was smooth and silky in appearance, a golden-brown color, and her full lips glistened with a hint of pink coloring. Her nose was slight, what some would call a button nose. Her features were soft and almost child-like, yet she was not a child. She was, in fact, nearly as old as Baric, who appeared as a giant standing next to her.

She wore a hooded, black robe that flowed around her slim body almost to the floor, hiding her figure. The hood was down, showing her long, side braided black hair that went past her shoulders. The braids kept her hair back on the sides and framed her pretty face, adding to her exotic appeal and drawing attention to her pointed ears. As the men before her bowed, she returned the bow, her movements poised and alluring.

You asked to see me, Captain Ronan? she inquired with a soft voice that was like a gentle breeze on a still summer morning.

Yes, replied Ronan, sitting back down behind his desk. This is one of our best Rangers, Baric. He would like to hear your request for assistance.

Baric offered a chair to the woman, being gallant almost automatically in her company, never taking his eyes off her as she sat down. Her demeanor was one of poised politeness, like the nobles Baric had met in the past. The Vaar'da were stiff like that, almost always adopting an air of superiority over other races.

Thank you, she said to Baric. As I told the Captain earlier, my name is Raimerestha. I was sent by the Mikado of the Vaar'da with a request for assistance from the famed Rangers of Laerean. The Mikado's daughter has been kidnapped, and a ransom is being demanded. Paying the ransom is not a problem, but we Vaar'da do not take kindly to threats from such captors. We would prefer that she be rescued and her captors punished.

Raimer ... Baric said, trying to pronounce her name, but failing miserably.

If you find it easier, you may call me Whisper, she said dispassionately.

Baric wondered about that nickname and what it might mean. Do you know who her captors are, Whisper?

She nodded. "A band of Zumarian criminals. Our people have tenuous relations with the Zumarians. We have never gotten along well and the peace we now have hangs by a thread. The Pasha of Zumar, their equivalent of a Mikado, or king if you prefer, assures us that these kidnappers do not represent their people and are, in fact, bandits and thugs, robbing even other Zumarians.

After lengthy negotiations with the Pasha, we have received his permission to hire the Rangers to track down the criminals and rescue the daughter of our Mikado. She looked now to Ronan. You have found all the documents to be in order?

Ronan nodded. Indeed, we have, and the payment offered is more than acceptable. I’ve offered this assignment to Baric, but it is up to him to accept or reject, as he desires. If he does not wish to take this mission, he will not be forced, and we will simply inquire of other Rangers. I wanted to offer this to him first, as he is experienced and efficient, one of our best. Ronan again looked to Baric.

How would we proceed? asked Baric, his attention on Whisper.

The starting point would be in the foothills of the Skyhaven Peaks, in Vaar'da. That is the site of the abduction. We will track them from there.

We? asked Baric.

For the first time, she smiled, an intriguing smile. Yes. I will be working with you.

Baric wondered what her skills might be, as she appeared to be more of a diplomat rather than someone that could chase down kidnappers. Can you fight? he asked bluntly.

In an instant, she was gone. Vanished right before his eyes. In the next instant, she was behind him, a curved dagger at his throat. Baric's eyes popped open wide with absolute surprise, as did Ronan's. What the...? Baric suddenly froze, feeling the cold steel on his neck.

I have many skills. Fighting is the least of them. Whisper was smiling arrogantly as she slowly removed the dagger from Baric's neck and slid it beneath her robe into a concealed sheath.

As she again sat down, Baric looked at her differently than he had mere moments before. She looked fragile, but she was far more than she appeared, and he now understood the nickname, Whisper. Baric began to smile, and the smile grew into a boisterous laugh.

I accept this assignment, Captain, he said with a chuckle as his laughter trailed off. He looked back at Whisper, an amused grin on his face.

Whisper kept her cultivated bearing and nodded without a smile.

When do we leave? asked Baric.

As soon as you are ready, she said.

Ronan sat back in his chair, his hands behind his head with a look of wonder on his face.

Meet me at the stables in an hour, said Baric to Whisper. He rose from his seat and bowed, exiting the room. She rose as he left and removed a large pouch from under her robe. She threw the pouch onto Ronan's desk.

Thank you, Captain, she said. I believe these gems will more than suffice. Ronan just looked at the pouch and knew that whatever it contained was worth the promised payment of ten thousand gold coins. This would go a long way in keeping the Rangers fed and supplied. Whisper turned and left the room, and Ronan could not help noting that her movements were as silent as the whisper that her name implied.

Isenjen 17, 2026 F.E.

The road from Laerean to Chartol was over a three-week journey. In Chartol, they would be able to book passage on board a ship to Kelfar, a trading port city in Vaar'da. Baric rode his chestnut horse, Namax, a large stallion that easily carried his bulk. Whisper's horse, Gilrin, was a smaller pinto breed.

The day was pleasantly mild, with few clouds and only the slightest breeze from the south. It was now late afternoon as they rambled along the road to Chartol through the Laerean Forest. The road was a well-trodden dirt road, the main road between Laerean and Chartol.

Baric attempted conversation now and then, but she was unusually silent, saying little. He wished to know more about her and her skills, feeling it was prudent that he knew exactly what she was capable of. He broke the silence yet again.

That ability you have, he said, I assume it’s some form of magic? To be able to simply vanish and reappear somewhere else?

Whisper understood what he wanted to know. It is magic. It is known as Shadow Walking. In truth, I travel through shadow, unseen in the physical world, but only for as little time as possible. Only for short distances. Such travel is not without risks. There are things in the shadow world that are dangerous. It takes a learned skill to use such magic.

I see. So, it’s not used without true need? he asked.

She nodded her head. Precisely. She looked over at him, perceiving that he wanted details. You wish to know how I can be of use in danger.

I think if we’re to work together, we should know each other's capabilities.

She returned her gaze to the road ahead. I have other skills in the use of shadow magic, which is uncommon, even among my people. I was trained as an assassin. I have skills with dagger and poisons, as well as stealth and magic. Using my magic, I can create illusions and manipulate weak-willed minds when the need arises. She looked over to Baric again. I am not a warrior as you would consider. I fight from the shadows and with deception. Not face-to-face, as I am sure you do.

Baric was not fearful of magic, but there was something odd about her story for this mission that he had not yet figured out. It was obvious to anyone where his own skills lay. Sheathed on his back was a great broadsword, a large, double-sided blade weapon that could be used with one or both hands, requiring strength to wield.

There was also a longbow and a long sack filled with arrows which were strapped to the livery on his horse. All Rangers had both ranged and melee skills, and he was not new to stealth. Her attitude seemed to indicate she viewed his skills as inferior, but her manner did not actually bother him.

I can be stealthy when needed. I’m a Ranger. Concealment is something we’re familiar with, though I don’t use magic. There are Rangers who are magicians, however. I’m familiar with herbs used for healing and food. Rangers are taught to be self-sufficient. I can hunt and cook, sew, and can use camouflage. I can fight with sword or dagger and have excellent marksmanship with a bow.

Whisper nodded. I have heard of the Rangers and their skills, even in Vaar'da, she said. She was impressed by his size and how he moved more gracefully than she would have thought that one so large could move. Her eyes lingered momentarily on his huge arms and chest, and then swiftly returned to the road ahead.

Baric was alert always. A Ranger is trained to be observant, and he was aware of the road ahead and the forest surrounding them. He had also noticed her examining gaze. She maintained this assuming demeanor, but he observed it as posturing. She seemed to want to hide her feelings.

Without looking at her, he smiled and said, The pleasure is mine, Whisper. She turned her eyes, but not her head, in his direction for only a second, wondering what he meant by that.

They spoke little for the rest of the day, and as the sun sank low in the west, Whisper began to wonder if they would camp on the side of the road for the night. The fading light made the forest seem menacing. Baric seemed unconcerned and kept riding until it was almost dark. The forest was no longer flat, and rocky outcrops and hills could now be seen ahead as the light swiftly faded.

He stopped near one of these rocky slopes and dismounted. We’ll camp here, he said.

Whisper also dismounted, and was about to start unpacking her sleeping roll when she saw that he was leading his horse around some rocks, so she followed, leading Gilrin behind her. Moving about twenty feet away from the road, around the ridge, Baric led them to some brush with rock behind it. She saw a symbol carved into the rock, a cross inside a circle.

Baric pushed the brush aside and revealed a cave opening behind it. He gestured to her, In there.

She led her horse into the cave. Baric followed her in with Namax. He lit a torch he had taken from Namax's pack using a flint and steel. The light revealed a large cave with a high ceiling. There was an opening about a foot in diameter at the top of the cave, a flue for the doused campfire that sat in the middle of the dirt floor. Wooden crates were stacked up against the far wall and there were metal loops embedded in the wall of the cave for tethering the horses.

She looked at Baric questioningly. He explained, Rangers have such way-stops scattered across Hir. Much safer than camping in the open and warmer on cold evenings. They’re kept stocked with supplies for any Ranger in need.

Whisper tethered Gilrin and sat down on a stone bench near the campfire as Baric ignited it with his torch. He tethered Namax and opened one of the crates, taking out a few pieces of split wood for the fire. From another crate, he produced some dry blankets, handing one to Whisper.

I see Rangers come prepared, she said, taking the blanket.

He threw a couple of pieces of wood onto the fire and then took a bag of dried meat and a couple of skins of weak wine from the pack of his horse. He handed a skin to Whisper.

This is travel wine. Mostly water. The wine purifies the water and improves the taste. He also handed her a couple of strips of dried pork. The meat was lightly salted. Travel rations, he said.

Whisper took the offered drink and meat with a nod. Baric sat down next to her on the stone bench and began to eat. The cave warmed quickly with the fire as the sun's heat vanished out in the forest.

It’ll take a good two months to get to the Skyhaven Peaks. Tracking down these Zumarians is going to take a long time. Are you certain that the Mikado's daughter will be safe for that length of time? Baric did not expect her captors to be so patient, and that made him wonder about the truth of this whole mission. He had been thinking on this the whole day.

She looked up at him as she chewed a bite of the rough meat. They will not get a ransom if they harm her. She looked convincing, Baric admitted, but there was more to this story. He was sure of it.

Baric's trained senses as a Ranger were also useful in judging people, even those of other races. He could see the slight fluctuations of the irises in her eyes, the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her mouth. He could hear the sudden, but nearly silent, short intake of breath at his mention of the time involved.

You’re hiding something, he said. I won’t press it, but eventually you’ll learn to trust me. I can tell that you don’t.

She eyed him intently, still not trusting anyone, not even another Vaar'da, at this point. She kept silent, eating without speaking.

Baric finished eating his portion, having drank half the contents of the skin in the process. He laid out his blanket near the fire and lay down, his face turned away from her. Good night, Whisper, he said with a hidden grin, and closed his eyes.

Whisper finished eating and looked at the sleeping giant near her. Could she trust this man? He was correct, she was hiding something, and he had sensed it. That impressed her even more. She laid out her blanket and lay down to sleep, almost afraid to close her eyes.

As she wondered about Baric and trust, her mind drifted off into sleep as the night grew dark and the howl of a wolf could be heard in the distance.

Isenjen 18, 2026 F.E.

The shadows swirled around her, shifting and flowing, constantly moving. It was the perfection of chaos and ultimately disorienting. There was no up or down. There was no left or right. She was a disembodied presence in a world of turmoil, yet she could feel her surroundings.

The air was thick and heavy, and there was heat. She saw no flame, no radiating redness, but she could feel heat as if the shadows were aflame. She felt lost in those shadows, consumed by them.

Then, came a sound. A small voice, soft and barely audible. A whisper in the shadows. Help me. What direction had it come from? She could not tell. The voice sounded weak, pathetic. As if the owner of the voice were dying, fading away. Please, help me.

Whisper sat up quickly, jerking awake, returning to reality. She was in the cave. She had fallen asleep. The same dream. Always the same. The voice in her dream pulled at her, tugging at her very life force, demanding recognition.

She realized she was drenched in sweat. As she wiped her brow, she remembered she was not alone. Looking over the burned-out campfire, she saw Baric staring back at her.

Are you alright? he asked. He was looking at her oddly. You were thrashing around quite a bit. A nightmare?

She sighed heavily and laid back down. I am fine. Yes, a nightmare.

Baric stared at her for a long moment. Then, after stirring the fire up again with a few fresh pieces of wood, he lay back down. Something was wrong. He could sense the turbulence of her spirit, her anxiety. He was starting to grasp that there was more to this mission than he had been told. The facts were not adding up in his head.

He considered pressing the matter, but decided not to. At least, not yet. He closed his eyes, but did not return to sleep. He was attentive to the sounds within the cave, the shuffle of the horses, a cricket chirping at the back of the cave. He just lay there and listened for a while.

Whisper could not sleep either. She kept awake. She knew the voice that whispered to her from the shadows. She knew the voice well, and that was what was causing her such distress. She was finally able to calm her racing heart, but just lay there, awake, waiting for sunrise.

As the sun rose over the eastern horizon, Baric became active. He opened another crate and removed two feed bags of dried oats for the horses, which he hung around their necks. Whisper started to rise as he rekindled the fire and laid out their breakfast, which was more dried meat.

She sat there, her arms folded around her knees for several minutes, saying nothing. Baric also kept silent as he sat down and started eating. When she looked up, she saw he was looking at her analytically. Rising and sitting on the stone bench, she began to eat as well.

Baric could sense that she was deathly afraid of something, but her obstinate attitude kept her at a distance. He knew she did not yet trust him, so he decided to let it go for now. He felt she was in some sort of trouble. He began packing things, getting ready to leave.

Whisper rolled up her blanket, giving it to Baric to return to the crate. Baric made sure they had enough supplies to get to the next way-stop, and doused the campfire. Before long, they had mounted their horses and resumed their journey toward Chartol.

Whisper kept her thoughts to herself, wondering if she could truly trust a human. She feared the dangers that lay on her road ahead, and she was desperate for help, but it was difficult for her to trust. She would think about what to do as they traveled now to the coastal city. There was plenty of time to think and plan.

Chapter 2

Isenjen 20, 2026 F.E.

The sun was not visible, hidden behind a dark cloudy sky, and without the sunshine, it felt much cooler than it had been. They both had their hoods up over their heads against the slightly cool breeze.

So, you are an orphan? Whisper asked.

Yes, Baric replied. "I was just a baby, so I don't remember my parents. My family lived in a small fishing village on the northern shores of Elsu. Our village was attacked by pirates, my family murdered. Fortunately, they didn't burn the village.

I was found by some Draldur merchants, still in my crib, and taken to an orphanage in Isumsyl. I had an uncle, Niel, who lived there, my father's brother. He was a blacksmith and heard news about the attack and the child that was found. He took me in and raised me.

How did you end up joining the Rangers? she asked, finding irony in that his tale was remarkably like her own.

"Uncle Niel had taught me all he knew about being a blacksmith and working metal, but when I turned eighteen, I decided I didn't want that life. All through my childhood, he had told me the stories of the Rangers, and I longed for the adventure I heard in those tales. I joined the Isumsyl city guard and learned to use both sword and bow, serving for five years.

Then my uncle took sick and that winter he died from his illness. I settled his affairs, resigned from the city guard, made my way to Laerean and applied to join the Rangers. I was accepted and I have spent the last four years as a Ranger.

So, you dreamed of being a Ranger, and now you are. She was learning to trust him more, but it was hard for her to trust a human. The Vaar'da were a lofty race. All her life, she had been told humans were inferior and not trustworthy, and she had never met a human with the compassion she was seeing in Baric.

As they rode, side by side, Baric looked up at the dark, thickening clouds. It’ll rain soon. We should find some shelter.

Are there no way-stops near? she asked.

Not for another twenty miles. There’s an abandoned cabin just ahead. It isn't in good shape, but it’ll shelter us from the rain, at least. The fireplace is still intact, so we can start a fire.

Whisper thought that it seemed Baric always knew exactly where to go. Of course, he should. This was his homeland, and he knew it well.

What about you? asked Baric. Did you grow up wanting to be an assassin?

She thought for a few moments, remembering her childhood. It had not been horrible, but it had been a rough life for her.

I too was orphaned, she said. My earliest memory is of the Vaar'da who raised me. He was not a relative, and he was an assassin of some repute. His name was Halphieann. He once told me that he'd found me abandoned in the forest, east of Kelfar. I have no idea who my parents were.

Baric felt sorry for her, but did not reveal it, knowing she would see that as pity and be angered by it. She had a strong, independent character. He had noticed, however, that she seemed to struggle at times to maintain her superior attitude. He sensed a good heart and felt she put on a false front to maintain her image, especially among those of other races.

"I was trained from childhood to use the arts of stealth and concealment, to move silently and swiftly. Additionally, I learned the skills of alchemy, dealing with poisons of all kinds and their antidotes. Some to kill, some to paralyze, and some to simply cause pain. Of course, I also learned to kill, quickly and silently.

Even so, Halphieann was a good soul, and taught me that the arts of the assassin are a skill the world needed. He showed me how my skills serve justice to those who deserve it, and in so doing protect the innocent. She looked at Baric with resolved poise and not a trace of remorse. I take pride in my skills and how they are used.

What about your mentor? he asked, figuring that if he were still alive, she would have gone to him for help. What happened to him?

She smiled slightly, remembering the one she considered her father. He died in his sleep, restful and content, six years past. He was very old by then, almost one hundred years.

Baric nodded seriously, seeing her fondness for the memories of her adopted father, much the same as he had for his uncle. There were times he really missed Uncle Niel.

Ahead was the cabin Baric had mentioned, with tree stumps surrounding the area and an overgrown garden in the back. They arrived just in time, as he felt the first drops of rain fall upon his hands as he held Namax's reins. They spurred the horses to a gallop, making it inside the old house just as the rain started to pour down in blinding sheets.

Baric started a fire in the old stone fireplace with dry wood from some ruined furniture lying about the dilapidated homestead. As he did this, Whisper divided up the rations and a couple of wine skins. She found a chair with the back broken off but still usable as a stool. She handed some rations to Baric and took a seat near the fire.

Whisper looked around, curious as to why the cabin was abandoned. What happened to the owners of this house?

Baric sat cross-legged on the floor and was eating. He looked up and glanced around at the now uninhabited home. They were killed in a raid by the Moroks last year. It's unusual for those monsters to venture this far north. We tracked them back south and made sure they wouldn’t raid again.

Do you have much trouble from the Moroks? she wondered.

Baric finished his meat and took a long swig from his skin, wiping his beard with the back of his hand.

From time to time, he shrugged. Usually when some semi-intelligent leader gets them riled up, or on rare occasions when one of the Manenase are controlling them. Mostly, we’ve more trouble with the wildlife, such as wolves, bears or worriks.

As if on cue, the howl of a wolf was heard not too distantly. Whisper looked up at the sound.

No need for concern. Not yet anyway, Baric said. They won’t attack in the rain, and the rain hides our scent. We'll need to keep watch, though.

Whisper finished her meal and laid her bedroll out on one of the dry parts of the floor. Some water was trickling in through holes in the thatched roof, but they had plenty of dry space near the fire. The rain continued to pour down intensely.

Baric prepared his bed roll as well, and then made himself comfortable to keep watch, not planning on sleeping anytime soon.

Whisper stared at him. She was beginning to like Baric, and she could tell he had a good heart. He was not like what she had always found or expected humans to be like. He was the first person of another race she had ever journeyed with, having never spent this much time with anyone but her own people in the past.

She found herself admiring his strong arms and shoulders, but then caught herself and turned her eyes away sharply. What was she thinking? Why was she attracted to a human? Baric had noticed her looking at him, and he broke into a slight smile.

The downpour had slowed to a light sprinkle. Another howl came from the south, not a wolf this time but a worrik, which Baric could tell by the deeper and more guttural sound of the howl. He suddenly grew tense, causing Whisper to become alert.

Without a sound, Baric rose to his feet and drew his broadsword, gesturing to Whisper. She, too, rose and listened as she silently moved to a darkened corner and drew two long, curved daggers from beneath her robe.

The howl pierced the air again. They could still see well as full darkness had not set in yet. Baric turned his attention to a hole in the back wall on the south side of the house. There was no doubt that a worrik was nearby. He listened and could just make out the faintest sounds of movement. There was more than one.

Through the opening came a blur of black fur as a worrik leapt through, running straight for Baric. More than twice the size of the largest wolf and far more savage, a single worrik was a ferocious adversary, even against two armed defenders. He swung his great blade deftly, but the worrik dodged to the side and went past him, forcing Baric to do an about-face to keep the monster in front of him.

Whisper was about to leap into the fray when she saw another worrik come through the opening, heading for Baric's unprotected back. Fast as she was, the worrik would be on him before she could reach it, and she would not be able to fight one of them face-to-face if it attacked her. Though reluctant, she used her Shadow Walk spell and was instantly on the right side of the second worrik, behind its head, her daggers digging into both sides of its neck and severing the main artery.

Baric thrust his sword ahead with both hands and only grazed the worrik in front of him, but it was not enough to slow the beast. He spun to his left, trying to dodge the worrik's snapping jaws, but its teeth ripped into his upper right arm, drawing blood.

He saw Whisper out of the corner of his eye, stabbing a second worrik repeatedly, which now lay on the floor bleeding profusely, her twin blades deep into the chest, piercing its heart. The worrik went limp.

Baric swung a mighty blow that cut the front legs out from under the worrik in front of him, and it fell to the floor with a pained growl. He swiftly finished it off with an overhead swing that cleaved the worrik's head, killing it instantly.

Looking quickly to the hole in the wall, he was relieved to find no more worriks attacking. He looked at the worrik she had killed, then into her eyes with not a small amount of admiration. Assassin indeed.

Are you alright? he asked.

She nodded, still tense as she turned to look at the opening in the wall. Are there more?

I don't think so, said Baric. They’re usually solitary. It’s seldom that they travel in pairs. I’ve never seen more than that, unless with Moroks. These two were no doubt mates.

Whisper saw that was indeed the case, a male and female. She wiped her blades on the female at her feet, and then slid the daggers back into the belt sheathes within her robe. She looked up and saw Baric was looking at her with a grin peeking out from his beard.

That was impressive. Thank you, he said.

She smiled, appreciating his compliment. You are welcome. She then noticed his arm. You are bleeding.

Baric looked at his wound. The worrik's teeth had pierced his arm and ripped a nasty gash. It was not serious, but it was deep. He cleaned his sword before returning it to the scabbard on his back.

He pulled a small jar from his pack, removed the cover and dipped his finger into it. It contained a greenish salve, which he smeared liberally on his wound.

What is that? she asked.

Baric returned the jar to his pack and removed a cloth strip which he used to bind his wound. A healing salve made from aloe and magically treated by the Rangers' magicians. The wound will heal in a few days. It’s not serious.

Should we worry about another attack? What about the wolves we heard earlier?

Baric waved his hand dismissively. I don't expect there are anymore worriks in the area, and the wolves were most likely howling because of them. I think we’re safe for now.

Whisper relaxed and sat back down. She was pleased at Baric's admiration of her skills, and she was also impressed by his. She found herself again attracted to him, and had to force her thoughts back to the journey ahead.

Baric had carried the worrik carcasses out of the house and dumped them near the hole from which they had entered. The wolves would stay away now, with the scent of the dead worrik bodies as a warning.

Returning inside, he saw Whisper lying down to sleep. He sat back on his bedroll but decided to stay awake for now, just in case.

The rain started to pick up again, and as he maintained watch, he could hear the drops pounding against the wooden logs of the cabin. He gazed at Whisper's sleeping form approvingly. She was quite a woman. The fact she was not human did not even matter to him.

He thought about what she was hiding from him. Getting to know her better, and the fact she had just saved him from the female worrik, he found himself starting to like her, but he knew there was some deception happening here. He hoped she would eventually come to trust him and tell him what was really going on.

He listened to the rain and other random nocturnal sounds for another hour before finally allowing himself to drift off into sleep.

Isenjen 21, 2026 F.E.

The shadows swirled around her, shifting and flowing, constantly moving. There was no up or down. There was no left or right. The heaviness of the mists was onerous and brutal, like a thick morass of liquid. Sorrow and desperation seemed to permeate the haze surrounding her.

She saw nothing but the swirling shadows, yet, there was a sense that the source of a call was drawing her to a specific place. A place she had never been. A place where she felt compelled to go. Skyhaven Peaks.

Then she heard the whisper in the shadows, the voice that was hers, weak and failing, Help me. Was she somehow calling to herself, or was it someone else pleading? Please, help me. The whispering cry was so pathetic, yet bewitching in a way. It drew her like a moth to a flame. She wanted to find the source of that voice, desperately.

The heat was overwhelming, the voice compelling her. She felt the pressure of the anguish in the failing voice, her voice. Please, help me.

Whisper woke with a start, her heart pounding and her face drenched in sweat. She felt her own fear pressing in on her, terror waiting to pounce upon her and destroy her. She turned and saw Baric leaning up from his blanket on one elbow and eyeing her with concern.

The nightmare again? asked Baric.

She nodded, Yes. She forced herself to calm, not wanting to expose her fear to Baric, not wanting to appear weak in the eyes of a human, or anyone else for that matter. It is over. I am fine.

Baric sensed she was lying, but did not press it. He laid back down on his blanket and listened as she resettled herself. He could tell she was afraid. Fear radiated from her, and he felt a great concern for her well-being. Wondering what this nightmare was all about, he drifted again off into sleep.

The next morning, he and Whisper packed up their campsite and began another day's journey down the road to Chartol. A mild, sunny day with some small clouds scattered across the blue sky.

The forest in late summer was a beautiful place to be, the many oaks, maples and elms thick in some areas, and sparse in others. The tall, bladed grass looked almost like a fine rug laid upon the forest floor, dotted with wild flowers. Many birds sang the song of the forest as they moved from tree to tree, and a small brook that ran along the side of the road gurgled in time with the song.

Baric felt at home in this place, more than anywhere else. Though he had spent most of his life in the city of Isumsyl, he had come to love the Laerean Forest and intended to make himself a homestead here one day.

Do you live in the country, or in the city? Baric asked of Whisper as they rode along.

Halphieann and I had a small abode in Abion, a city west of Kelfar, she replied. I own the house now. There is a forest to the east of it, but there is danger there. What sorts of animals are found in this land?

The dangerous ones are mainly wolves, bears, boars and shrews, said Baric. Occasionally, worriks will come up from the south, but they’re not common. The Laerean Forest is not particularly dangerous, except to those who are unprepared.

The sudden cry of an animal caught their attention. Baric recognized the sound immediately, coming from the north, behind a cluster of maples. He turned his horse toward the cry.

Come. Someone needs rescue, was all he said as he trotted Namax around the maples, stopping at the edge and dismounting. The cry was heard again, closer now.

Whisper dismounted and they tethered their horses to one of the smaller trees. She followed Baric as he quietly moved further around the trees until the source of the cries came into view. They saw a small grizzly bear cub, about a hundred pounds, its hind foot caught in a hunter's trap, struggling to get free.

Baric walked over to the cub, alert to the possibility of the mother coming to the rescue, but he had correctly assumed the mother was gone. If she were alive, she would have already answered the cub's cry. She had evidently been killed by the hunter who had apparently left his traps, since he, too, was nowhere around.

It seems a poor hunter to leave traps still set when the hunt is over, said Baric as he knelt by the cub and began to help free its foot from the trap. He likely killed this little one's mother, then left.

Whisper watched as Baric freed the cub, petting him like one would a puppy, then checking its foot to make sure it was not broken. The cub then scooted away and it turned and stood on its hind legs a moment, looking at Baric with big brown eyes, as if thanking him. Standing as it was, the cub was slightly taller than Whisper, and she involuntarily took a step back.

Baric noticed a white patch of fur on the cub's forehead, in the shape of a star. An unusual marking, he thought. The cub then scurried off into the forest.

Will the bear survive without his mother? asked Whisper.

Baric watched as the cub disappeared into the thick trees to the north, then smiled at Whisper. He's old enough to fend for himself and likely has a sibling or two. The odds for survival at his age, about nine months, are good. They'll have an established den.

Whisper took note of Baric's compassion, which she had already seen in his eyes, and noticed that it seemed to extend to wildlife as well as people. She felt more and more comfortable around Baric, but continued to maintain her noble poise and keep secret what the nightmares were all about. They mounted their horses again and continued their journey.

Isenjen 23, 2026 F.E.

The sun was getting low in the western sky as Baric and Whisper trotted their horses along the main road, still surrounded by the forest. As they came upon one of the small cabins the Rangers used as way-stops, they dismounted and tethered Namax and Gilrin to the hitching post.

We'll stay here tonight, said Baric. He patted Namax, who seemed a bit skittish. Baric became alert, wondering why.

Whisper noticed the same symbol, a cross within a circle, etched into the lintel of the door as she approached, but she also noticed the door was not closed all the way.

Baric, she said, pointing at the door. When he saw the door ajar, he nodded. He indicated for her to move away as he drew the blade from his back, holding it in his right hand as he approached the door. He pushed the door open with his left hand, ready for whatever may be inside.

The fading sunlight filtered into the cabin from the windows, revealing the cabin to be empty. Baric stepped forward slowly, keeping alert. Seeing no one inside, he looked to the ground just outside the doorway.

Look there, Baric said, pointing. Blood. There were small drops of blood scattered about and signs of a struggle. Baric knelt and inspected them closer. Shrews!

Shrews? questioned Whisper.

Yes. It appears they were attacking someone. Someone that tried to get into the cabin for safety. He moved along the ground, studying the signs with the eye of a Ranger. They were overwhelmed and dragged off in that direction. Baric rose and pointed to the northeast.

He began moving, following the tracks. Whisper followed, now drawing her daggers in anticipation of trouble. They'd followed the trail for about a hundred feet when Baric suddenly stopped, hearing sounds just ahead, over a rise. It was just what he feared they would find; the shrews were feeding. He grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands.

Looking back at Whisper, he indicated he was going in full force, and she nodded. As Baric charged over the rise, Whisper moved stealthily, keeping her own presence hidden while she got into position.

Baric screamed as he charged in, getting the attention of all six of the giant shrews, interrupting their feeding on the corpse of some poor soul. Each was the size of a medium-sized dog, with sharp, pointed teeth, nasty claws, gray fur and long, rat-like tails. Their snouts were covered with the blood of their most recent victim. Recovering from the surprise of Baric's appearance, the pack moved as one to attack him.

Whisper could see them all as she stood up, readying herself to attack them from behind while their attention was focused on Baric. When she stood, however, one noticed her and changed its course, leaping toward her with a great push of its powerful hind legs.

Baric swung his sword, cutting through the first two as they leapt at him, but three more were right behind. They pounced onto his chest almost in unison, grabbing hold with their clawed feet and aiming their teeth at his neck. Baric allowed himself to fall backward, taking the three shrews with him, then rolled sideways, breaking their hold on his leather armor as he swiftly rolled up and back onto his feet. It took only a moment, however, for the shrews to recover, and as Baric stood, they were back on the ground preparing to resume their attack.

Meanwhile, the one leaping at Whisper was surprised to find empty air where she had once been. It was even more surprised when she reappeared behind it, plunging her daggers into its body, piercing its heart from both sides. Pulling the daggers from the animal's corpse, she rose and turned to see Baric on his feet, squaring off against the final three.

Baric swung again, cleaving two more of the beasts with his huge sword. The third, however, had hesitated briefly, and leapt at Baric’s throat before he could react. Baric saw the bloody, needle-filled snout coming toward him and dropped his sword so he could grab the creature’s neck with both hands.

The jaws of the shrew were only a foot away when the beast suddenly stopped, frozen in midair with a look of pure shock in its eyes, before it fell straight down to the ground, dead. It took a moment for Baric to realize what had happened. Whisper had again Shadow Walked and, in a swift move, slammed her daggers into its chest, killing the rodent in mid-leap.

Baric, gasping for breath, smiled and nodded. Thanks.

Whisper gave a slight, sly smile, cleaning her daggers and putting them back into their sheaths.

Baric picked up his sword, cleaned it, and returned it to its scabbard as he walked over to the corpse the shrews had been feeding on. What was left did not have a recognizable face, but the attire indicated the poor unfortunate's likely occupation.

Some trader on the road alone, perhaps, said Baric, examining the body. Or we may find more victims if we search. A pack of shrews can be a real problem if the victims are unarmed.

Could there be more about? she asked.

Possibly. I've seen larger packs before. We should be wary, but we'll be safe in the cabin.

The sun was now setting and it would be dark soon. Let's get into the cabin. I'll wrap the body in a blanket and bury him in the morning.

What about the horses? asked Whisper.

They'll warn us if more are near, said Baric. I’ll be alert. Go ahead and get settled.

Baric retrieved a blanket from the cabin and wrapped the body in it, placing it just outside the cabin. They then enjoyed their evening meal before settling down to sleep.

Isenjen 24, 2026 F.E.

The shadows swirled around her, shifting and flowing, constantly moving. There was no up or down. There was no left or right. As always, she could feel, or sense, the heaviness of the churning shadows and the oppressive heat.

She felt an almost overwhelming sense of despair, of utter hopelessness. As if she were being drained by the gloom. Disintegrating into a shadow of herself and becoming lost in the tempestuous chaos that surrounded her.

Then came the sound, the whisper in the shadows, calling to her with that weak, dying voice. Help me. All she could do was listen. She had no sense of body. No sense of space. No sense of time. Only the swirling shadows. Please, help me. The voice sounded weaker, more distant. Begging. Please, help me.

Whisper jerked awake and sat up. Sweat was pouring from her face, as if she had been exposed to that intense heat. Her heart was racing at what seemed like an impossible pace, as if it would suddenly burst from her chest. She turned and saw Baric once again looking at her. Was I thrashing again? she asked, trying to calm her pounding heart and rasping breath.

Yes, and you cried out, he said with a note of concern.

She looked at him apprehensively, fear in her eyes. Cried out? What did I say?

You cried out, 'Please, help me.' Twice

She tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling. It is getting worse, she said with a sigh of fear and dismay.

I can see that. He suddenly stared at her, unblinking. A stern intelligence she had never seen before shone like sunlight on his face. You know, Whisper, I made a promise to help you, and as a Ranger, I never go back on my word. However, I can’t truly help you if you are not honest with me.

Whisper returned the stare, suddenly nervous. What do you mean?

He smiled humorlessly. I have known my share of Vaar’da, and I know full well how they view humans, but humans are not fools. Rangers are trained in observation and attention to details.

I am not sure what you …

You’re no emissary, and there was no kidnapping. Don’t bother denying it.

Whisper drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Baric continued, "You’re truly skilled in the art of deception, Whisper. And you’ve also proven yourself capable in combat. You’ve had my back on two occasions already in our short time together. And for that I’m grateful. But I won’t take another step on this journey unless