Ranger's Oath: Blackmoon Wars, #1

By J T Williams

Under the Blackmoon, fire rises to meet a quickening shadow... but what secret will ruin it all?

 

 

Fadis, Ranger of the North, had thought he had seen it all when he was with the Stormborn... then one explosion later and thousands of fanged thralls of a lost Vampire-God erupted from the grounds all across his homeland. Rallying fellow rangers, elves, and dwarves to his side— the living fight for their lives.

 

But worse whispers come from the dark places of the world: a veil descends across Taria isolating it from the rest of the lands as an ancient Rusis temple comes alive... when two rangers sneak in looking for something to help in the war, they may just unleash something much, much worse.

 

Embrace the Rangers of the North and meet the Rangers of the Pines, the 'Deep South' inspired Rangers who would be just at home in the East Texas woods or the Swamps of Louisiana! This is fast-paced epic fantasy with a distinct twist that will have you wanting sugar in your tea and crawfish fresh and spicy... all before heading out to slam arrowheads into the nearest Ikarn vampire thralls!

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.T. Williams
• Release date: Dec 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223318514

J T Williams

Dr John T. Williams is a Senior Lecturer in the Textiles Engineering and Materials (TEAM) group, De Montfort University, UK. He has published numerous scientific papers and several book chapters dealing with protective clothing. Dr Williams has also presented numerous academic lectures internationally. He is a member of many groups including Euratex and TechniTex.

Book preview

Prologue

THE MOONFALL SYNDICATE

Moonrise upon the northern coasts of Taria revealed many things. As the Glacial Seas rolled against the rocky cliffs, the air was warm and the star flowers fragrant. A walk shared between lovers would be just at home here as would thieves seeking to rob a lone traveling bard. This night, however, a hooded man returned to a place that he had been to many, many years ago.

Then, he was fleeing a now-dead maniacal king. But that was years ago and the new menace was different and far more dangerous. But he knew danger. This was no mere hooded man—this was Fadis, leader of the Rangers of the North.

For years he had shared in adventures on the high seas. But as the Blackmoon rose over his home, his duty was here. He would not fall away from it. But his business was specific, and he hoped he could perhaps not visit this tavern and end up making a mess.

There was something about taverns. Few places could see such merriment and tragedy, witness love and loss, whispers of betrayal. But Fadis truly loved the smell.

He opened the door and lowered his hood, catching the eye of a red-haired woman sweeping the floor.

Evening, he said, giving her a slight nod.

Evening to you. She winked.

He had always enjoyed the welcoming nature of taverns. He took a seat to the left of the bar itself at a table with two chairs. He had with him a sackcloth sack that he carefully set beneath the table.

Off to the far right beside the fire was another figure smoking a pipe. The barkeep noticed Fadis and approached.

Food tonight, just a drink?

Ale, just one. Can't have my love getting angry.

She wouldn't actually get angry. Kirla, a rogue he had met only a few months ago, was busy seeing to their headquarters, Castle Taria.

But deposing a king made many enemies, and that was who Fadis sought this night.

The barkeep brought over his drink.

I hate to tell you this, but we're actually going to be closing in about ten to fifteen minutes. I've got a private gathering. You know, lots of happenings with the vampires and demon creatures. Important ranger meetings need to happen. After the king and all that, they’re in control, and well, they make me do it.

Sad, sad situation. I'm sure it makes business difficult when the rangers do that.

The barkeep stared at him for a few moments. Do I know you? You look familiar.

I'm a hooded man having an ale in a tavern. Don't we all look alike?

The barkeep chuckled. I guess you do have a point. Anyway, thank you. Enjoy!

The barkeep’s chuckling seemed to become a nervous laugh as he hurried away.

Dumb man.

As the woman continued to move about the tavern, sweeping, the other figure near the fire rolled his neck, sending a cracking sound across the room. He stood up and went to a door on the other side of the tavern.

A few moments passed, and he returned with a box, going back to his seat. The door of the tavern opened, and two individuals came in. They kept their hoods up and looked at one another as they noticed Fadis sitting there.

The barkeep hurried over to them. Just a minute. We'll get it all closed up! No problems!

The barkeep turned to Fadis. It is a bit earlier than I thought, but I know you'll understand. Ranger business. Really important if you want to keep you and your woman at home safe.

Fadis finished his ale. Of course. Ranger business in these trying times is important. I'd hate to disrupt that.

He stood up, clearing his throat. The barkeep smiled.

He picked up the sackcloth bag. My payment and a gift. Give it to the rangers. They have a hard job. Especially when their numbers are wavering.

The figures, still hooded, looked over toward him as he said that.

The barkeep stared at him, baffled. He took the bag and seemed to grimace a bit at the weight.

You have a good night, okay?

Oh, I'll have a night. The barkeep stepped back, turning toward the three figures on the other side.

Fadis smirked, going behind the bar and pulling out a bottle of liquor.

The barkeep noticed, dropping the sack next to these figures and hurrying back over. I'll say, the nerve you have! Get out! Get out of my tavern!

The woman was now standing near the door as Fadis noticed the figures looking into the bag.

They stood up, taking down their hoods and drawing their blades.

Oh? Fadis said, pushing past the barkeep. Rangers these days? Seems you’re missing some of your party. Oh wait, you're all there.

Fadis, king killer?!

To be fair, I didn't actually do that—that was my lovely love. But he had it coming. What do I actually call you fools? We're fighting a war against fanged monsters, and you decide to try to kill random elves. My son, actually, was in that group.

Your son is no elf!

Right you are, another voice said.

Fadis's son was just entering the tavern, having been waiting outside. But, we know of the mysterious nobles of the lands, your benefactors. I tell you what, we won't even kill you three if you can just get a message to them. Tell them we will accept their surrender and allow you and your ilk to join in the defense of the realm, and we can put these petty issues aside.

Fight for rangers? one man said. We were knights of the realm! Not some criminal fodder. We had honor.

How much honor? How were those heads I gave you? Rather easy to defeat a knight these days, I guess? He looked to Evri. I don't know, might be more fun to kill these of the . . . what did you say they call themselves?

Moonfall Syndicate.

The three figures’ eyes widened.

How do you know such things?

Do you realize what I was doing before I was here, debating with miscreant men of no honor? I was legitimately fighting evil beyond any of you. Now, I feel like I downgraded.

Your entire ranger brotherhood is a degenerate mob. Those were good men you killed! You will pay. The price on your head will be so high—

Wait! Fadis said, lifting his finger. I never said I killed them. Those heads were provided to me by someone else. I'd hate to drag that person into this. They are already rather upset they had to be gone from their home for so long. You really don't want to push this one. I swear, I've been back from sea for a month, and while I'm trying to organize all of the living to fight, you fools try to fight us? Have you not seen the vampires, the demon men?

The man lifted his sword, pointing at Fadis's face. There are three of us, two of you. And our blades are already out.

The woman was now behind the men, sweeping as she had been. The barkeep nervously polished a glass.

You don't want a mess here. Your barkeep already works a lot.

The man spat on the ground. He doesn't do the cleaning. That bitch there does.

Ooh. Poor choice of words. Well, as steward of Castle Taria, I feel I know much of what goes on. But in particular, that woman has only been working here for the past week. Isn't that right, barkeep?

The barkeep didn't say anything.

Fadis looked over. What, remembering who I am? They've already said my name. Might want to tell these boys here what I did last time I was in here. Now, answer my question!

Um-um, he stuttered. She is a new assistant. Cleans up the mess. I let her take patrons, um, your guys, actually.

Fadis smiled, turning his head away from the man. See. You're wrong about what you think you know, and you have two options: take my message or make a mess in here.

I've still got you outnumbered, king killer.

Fadis shook his head. You are not a smart man. I guess the gig is up. Mirrean?

The woman sweeping took two of the men by surprise, swinging the handle of the broom directly toward their heads and throwing them down to the ground. Evri drew his sword, parrying the final man's blade down, as Fadis swung the bottle of liquor, fracturing the man's jaw and shattering the bottle.

The man fell to the ground as Fadis took the broken bottle and forced it just into his neck enough to draw blood.

The man struggled to talk but could barely move his mouth. As he grunted garbled words, Fadis tossed the broken bottle away and grabbed him, lifting and slamming him onto the bar top.

You will return to your masters only because I wish it. You will tell them to meet with the rangers of Taria in exactly two days at Castle Taria. They can bring a guard if they wish, but none of the old king's men will be permitted into the keep. They will be treated fairly and respectfully, but these are the lands of the Rangers now, and I'll have none of that old king's wretches attacking elves, men, dwarves, or anyone else. So, we unite or I waste time killing every last one of you with arrows and keen blades that should be in the throats of our true foe.

Evri was standing with his blade at the head of the man he had attacked. Mirrean had her boot on the other's head. Her broom was no mere broom but her custom-crafted bladed bo staff.

Do we have an understanding, and will you deliver my demand to the leaders of your little syndicate?

The man nodded.

Fadis release him and backed up, drawing his sword as the man stumbled toward the door.

Let ’em go, Fadis said.

Evri stepped back, and Mirrean shrugged. The man looked up at her as he carefully stood up.

What? You want a kiss? Get out. Before I have to remove your head, too.

At those words, he hurried out.

Fadis tossed the barkeep a small bag of gold. Thank you for your hospitality. Enjoyed my time, as normal. Just a bit of blood this time, no bodies. That's a win, right?

The three of them walked outside, and Fadis exhaled.

Do you think that'll work? Evri asked.

Well, the rest of the rangers are rallying. I've made contact with the Riverlands, and Mirrean said the Southern rangers are more than willing to fight. The issue is our forces are divided.

Mirrean smirked. Well, we are leagues away from one another. The defensive wall is taking a while and keeping our supply lines steady, and ilk like that picking off our lines isn't helping.

Did you really kill all those men? How? Evri asked.

By taking off their heads. Popped them like crawfish. Simple, hun. Getting them to follow me out of this tavern was as easy as winking with a little smile. Damn fools.

She's brutal, Evri said.

That's how we are in the South, sweet and brutal.

They went into the woods just outside the tavern, where Evri had tied up Fadis's and his horse, along with an extra for Mirrean.

I'll be at the castle in two days. I need to get home. I'm going to owe those dwarves a bit more gold, she told them.

Well, thank you for doing this. I just hope it is worth it. Your son enjoying that bow?

Still prefers a staff. Can't make him into one of you Northern rangers. No matter what you try.

Worth a try. Fadis laughed.

They mounted up.

Two days. I'll bring the rest of the leadership. We've got a prince who sent some of them to seek out his mother or something, hoping they can make it. Otherwise, you've just got me.

That'll be good, too, Evri said.

She smirked and turned her horse, galloping away.

Really? Fadis asked him, laughing.

What?

Oh, nothing at all.

I wonder what a crawfish is? Evri asked.

Ask her when you see her again. You're going to end up missing your head, too, if you're not careful.

The emergence of vampires does not have a set beginning that any know. Elven scholars point to the emergence of Lord Elria Sonia, a creation of magic and forbidden arts of a moon cult rumored to be from Keva. Though, such a fact was denied by the Rusis who called that place their home.

Under the power of the ancient Blackmoon, Elria supposedly had the greatest hand in forming the first vampire sanctum under a spider queen of a forgotten name. Here they weaved their powers and brood until a supreme lineage of vampire lords began. Slowly, these Vadir high lords spread their influence, taking the willing and unwilling alike. Thus rose also the demon men—creatures of death brought back not with necromancy but with blood magic. When the wood elves of Varmark first met the vampires, a parlay turned into a massacre, and thus began the first Shimmering War.

The elves called for aid from their kin across the living realms, but the Orc Wars and the long fighting against that created scourge was still heavy on their brethren. None save the high elves of Urlas from the Glacial Seas came, them and the dwarves of Michranok. Still, the war took the northeastern kingdoms of Baridok and sacked multiple elven settlements in northern Taria. But the stubbornness of elves and dwarves against the Vadir high lords was constant. The elves held back a complete annihilation, choosing instead to keep their creed to their gods and not destroy another creation completely. Thus, a pact was made and the vampires given their own realm away from the living one. They were forbidden to ever return to the living realm, save in very small numbers to take a few souls as needed to keep up their hierarchy.

But the vampires felt this an eternal purgatory of such, for they were a creation of raw power and desire, and to be imprisoned in a constant state of wanting was torture. But they waited and did as they were told. The oldest of their order knew that the ancient Blackmoon would return, and though it was thought to be only a passing night, the vampires knew different.

For thousands of years, the vampire lords slept in the realm given to them by the wood elves of the western lands of Taria. A pact, a stalemate to an endless war. But with the coming of the Blackmoon, they broke from their sanctum and returned to the living realm. The elves of the West and the Rangers of the North tried and failed to stop their reemergence. The vampires returned to the lands and lakes between the Crescent Mountains. Their blight spread out across the lands, choking the forests, as more of their twisted kin awakened. The woods were ever dangerous.

Now, with the strange fall of a mist upon the borders of the lands, rangers across all of Taria rally to protect their homes and people. All the while, the elves of the Varmark Woodlands, the men in the Riverlands, and the dwarves of Michranok all take their part in preparing for a new war. While shadows fall to a darker shade, creeping in the already dark places of the world, great mirrors of fire and light created in the dwarven mountains are mounted one by one across Taria.

But it will take every soul, sword, and bow that can be mustered if they are to stop their enemy, and actions taken in defense and a quest for knowledge will ultimately lead to exactly what the Vadir high lords, elder vampires of Elria Sonia, seek.

Such begins the tale of the Blackmoon Wars.

Chapter 1

Beginning

He had reached the Eastern Valley. After traveling a long distance and being so far away from the nearest village, he did not expect good things. The sky was dark, the clouds rolling over the distant mountains and to the sea. At least here the sun was still shining. As he looked out to the south, over the crags of the other side of the valley, for a moment he thought he could see the ocean. But at this point his eyes were just looking for something to encourage him.

It was a single long road that twisted back and forth down the mountain. Though this particular valley was considered to be the badlands of the mountain regions, it had not always been this way. He sniffed the air and checked behind him and then down the narrow gorges to his right.

No one.

As a force of habit, he kept his right hand gripped upon his longsword, making a point to jog down the mountain itself, moving with haste, as he knew the sun, yet still upon his neck, was falling.

I should have left earlier. But that had its risk as well.

Dorien wasn't the only ranger headed this way after the distressing news at what had happened at the rock village. He did not know where his kinsmen were. Traveling in these lands had become much riskier. Though, it was no Taria.

The valley itself was strangely wooded for such an otherwise dry landscape, fed by a great river northeast of where he was. He could see the blue ribbon coming out of the mountains and down into the valley below. The pine trees dotting the area stretched all the way down to the valley floor, and it was there, surrounded by great meadows and the ruins of a dwarven forge, he could see a small cottage.

This was odd work for him. But if a lord wished to seek and discover if his mother was well, Dorien guessed the common practice was to pay someone else to go check on them.

The old road had led him down to a stone bridgeway crossing over a creek just on the edge of the woods. He went to the railing of the bridge, obviously dwarven in design from the intricate patterns and square shapes, searching for any ruins or other notations of spell craft. Not that it was commonplace for dwarves to set some kind of trap on a bridge, but dwarves were not the primary wanderers in these regions. He had heard of undead cultists, necromancers, other vile users of death magic. But necromancers and their undead summonings were better than what was feared to have taken this lord’s dear mother.

As he began across the bridge, he caught the sound of an owl hooting some distance away.

Great. I definitely should have left sooner.

He began to jog again, happy there was some form of path through the woods and he wouldn't have to continue pathfinding on his own. But it didn't change the encroaching darkness behind him. Still, it wasn't Taria. Ever since the rise of the Blackmoon, it wasn't possible to go out alone. Though he had been a ranger since he was a young boy, dealing with vagabonds and would-be thieves on the highway, or the occasional troll that wondered out of his cave and needed coercing to stay away, those foes were nothing compared to the new ones. Vampires, spiders, and a swarm of accursed men and women. The latter were those who had been taken by the powers of the vampire lords, forced into service. Though there were some places where Taria still held strong, it was folly, in his mind, to try to hold in the way they were. Construction had begun several weeks ago on a long wall, a project agreed upon by men, elves, and dwarves to defend against their enemies.

He didn't care to have a part of it. Back home, he had his love and his daughter. They were on the eastern edge of Taria, and thus far they had been safe.

As the sun dipped behind the mountains and its back turned the sky deep red and orange, he had come to the cottage. He saw no signs of light or candle in any form, no smoke rising from the chimney. A portion of thatch was missing off the roof, but in truth that could just be the result of not having someone younger to repair it.

Good-for-nothing son leaves his mother out here while he's living in a tower with maids, servants, and whores. What kind of son leaves their mother in the middle of nowhere?

He went up to the door and found it locked. He levied a strong kick against it, breaking the hinges and swinging it open. Dorien drew his sword partially out, entering the residence to find that nothing seemed out of place. The bed was made, the kitchen, though of course small and part of the single room that made up the cabin, was well put together, with herbs tied in bundles hanging over a cooking hearth and several fresh potatoes and carrots sitting on the table. He looked to his left and found a single three-shelf bookcase. Though there were several different journals, a few rolled parchments looked to be nothing of particular note. A book was left open and sitting on the shelf. He picked it up, expecting to see some random recipes this old woman had scribbled down, but then he saw that the book was in Elvish script. Normally, he could read Elvish and Dwarvish, but perhaps it was a dialect. The word usage was off. It wasn't what he had expected. Furthermore, he realized that either this woman found this book and just happened to put it on her shelf, or she seemed to be trying to translate portions of the text. There were ink marks on several of the pages, and though he could not read the exact words that were being translated, he could read the translated text.

It's about this valley. It looks like before the dwarves had a forge here, there was an elven ruin. It spoke of a power that seems to have no direct translation. Or, perhaps, if the old woman is doing the translating, she didn't find it.

He heard several leaves crunch outside the cottage. He set the book down and drew out his sword, moving against the doorway with the blade angled toward the opening. There was a small whistle in the air like a northern bird, a small finch-like creature that lived in the cliffs just south of the Glacial Seas. A bird not native to this region.

Dorien whistled back.

Dorien?

Is that you, Zeno?

Dorien stepped out to the opening to see a fellow ranger with an arrow set to his bow. He loosened the tension as he caught sight of Dorien.

Did you find the hag? Zeno asked.

No, not alive or dead.

Zeno looked around. There doesn't seem to be a struggle. If she's as the lord described, I wouldn't expect her to be wandering around at dark.

I wouldn't expect us to be wandering around in this dark. Any sign of bloodsuckers?

Zeno shrugged. They don't normally leave signs, you know. Only signs I've ever seen of a bloodsucker are the marks on the victims’ necks.

Zeno was right. Vampires were masters of remaining unseen, even to the keen eyes and senses of a ranger. Zeno, especially. He was elven, only a quarter or so. Too little to be properly respected among elves.

I came this way with Amy, but when we got to the headwaters at the northern point of the valley, she crossed over, said that she wanted to take a wider path and come around from the other side.

Well, if any would be good out here it would be Amy. She once outdrank a whole tavern of dwarves.

Zeno laughed. Is that where she got that fancy axe from?

No idea, Dorien snickered.

Dorien walked around the outside of the cottage, making sure he had not missed any signs. Though there were no signs of a struggle or trouble around the cottage, he did notice a lamp, a very small stone tower no more than waist high with a single orange flame.

The sun was almost completely gone, and now, looking out from the cottage, he could see several other flames in the distant dark woods.

Oh, come on, come on, you do not expect that she went that way? Zeno asked.

Dorien noticed a bit of mud, and he made a point to walk over and kneel at it. They were fresh tracks of a small foot.

He stood up. Yes, I do. This is what we're getting paid gold for. Let's go.

Dorien and Zeno followed the tracks and the torches, passing a total of eight torches as they went deeper into the woods.

You know, after all of this, I'm thinking I might go work on that wall. They say it's rather strong and has already been attacked several times and withstood. Good old dwarven ingenuity, aye?

Dorien shook his head. I'm going home. I'm not doing this anymore. I feel sorry for this old lady, but she shouldn't be living out here alone anyway. And what about this lord? What is his name, Lord Jerun of Bvalic? What kind of name is Lord Jerun?

Zeno laughed. Apparently he helped foster the alliance between the dwarves and the rangers of Taria, or so I'm told. Though I don't particularly believe it. The dwarves had a better working relationship with the Rangers of the Riverlands. The lord likely just had more gold.

The Riverland Rangers spent too much time drinking salty ales on the coast. It must be nice to protect the land that essentially will never be attacked considering it is surrounded by castles. Are there that few of us rangers left?

Zeno tapped him on the shoulder. I think you're right; I am the only real Ranger left.

Dorien laughed. Let's spread out. Keep sight of the torches at the center and watch for tracks. We at least have going for us the fact that the scent of this valley is good. The vampires and the spiders, when they lay their webs across the ground, lay a stench that I don't care for.

Right, well, I haven't seen any, but you don't have a full elf with you, you know.

You’ve got the eyes; I've got the nose. Maybe you should concentrate on learning some other skills besides just bow work. Put a little time into developing your sense of smell.

Well, guess that means I'm not a real ranger after all, Zeno teased.

As the two rangers split off from one another, Dorien turned his attention to the ground. Though he was still off the path a little bit, he could tell the soil and leaves had been disturbed, almost as if someone or something was following the one on the path. He kneeled for a moment, measuring the stride. He was thankful that at least it did not appear to be a vampire or one of their evil servants, but some type of creature. Still, its stride was too small to be a wolf or dog. But it was clearly following the woman. He moved through the thickening brush, keeping an eye out for Zeno off to his right, and for any movement at all to his left. He could see just over a distant hill that rose in the woods that there was light beyond. Something more than the small torches that were like tiny beacons through the woods. Even stranger, he could hear the distinct sound of hammering.

As they came to the pinnacle of the hill, both Zeno and Dorien came together.

What in the realms is that hammering sound? Zeno asked.

Dorien shook his head. I don't know, but I have to wonder if they didn't cause trouble for our little lady.

As they came up to the top of the hill, looking down into a clearing, fire rose from a stone structure, an old ruin, as it were. It was a dwarven forge that he’d known was in this valley, but he did not know of any dwarves here to run it.

He scanned the furnace