Page 49 of An Archer's Reckoning

I figured I was about thirty minutes from Grove’s Pass. The sun was already well above the horizon, but the constant snowfall kept visibility low. While the cold hadn’t numbed my fear, it was doing a number on my toes and fingers. I couldn’t wait to get inside Ranger headquarters and spend a solid hourby the roaring fires I knew were always lit. My jaw was sore as I finished the last of the old shoes disguised as meat. A hearty gulp sent the last bite, mostly chewed, into my rumbling gut.

As I stoppered my waterskin, something off to my left rustled.

I snapped my head in that direction and froze.

Two men in Kingdom cloaks hid behind large trees, scanning the forest. Their hoods—I couldn’t see their faces—moved slowly from side to side, never resting in one place. I didn’t think they’d seen me but knew they wouldn’t be alone.

I had to move.

A thought slammed into my head.The archers are several milesinsidethe Melucian border.

These men weren’t scouts. They were the tip of a deadly spear aimed at Melucia’s now-weakened border.

White-hot fear roared through me, and winter’s bite melted away.

I waited for what felt like an eternity to see if the men would advance, but they remained in place.

They must be guarding a line.

What would Bret call it?

I couldn’t remember the fancy Ranger word. There seemed to be a word for everything. Why couldn’t they just say something like, “Bad guys with bows standing in the woods?” That made more sense.

One of the men turned toward me.

I ducked behind the boulder.

My mindless musing had almost gotten me shot.C’mon, Aaron. Be smart for once!

I sneaked my way around the boulder and a clump of trees. When the men were out of view and others didn’t appear, I got to my feet and ran as fast as I could without making too much noise. Over the next half hour, my head swiveled with every step.

For once, the chattering voice in my skull didn’t talk; it just tried to stay alive.

The trees gave way to open ground, and I saw the outline of the picket wall surrounding the town. There were no enemy archers anywhere in sight. I thanked the Spirits and anyone else who’d listen for getting me to Grove’s Pass without arrows sticking out of my body.

Abandoning stealth, I sprinted toward the gate. It would be guarded by one bored, lonely Ranger. On cue, a hooded head popped up above the gate as I approached, a gloved hand shielding eyes from the morning sun.

When I was a few dozen paces from the gate, the guard recognized my uniform, and wood and hinges began to creek. I stumbled to a halt in the gate’s entrance as the guard blocked the opening, and four other men, bows nocked and pointed at my chest, formed a half circle facing me. There werenevermore than two men standing guard in the middle of winter. I blinked up in surprise, my eyes racing from one arrow-tip to the next.

“Whoa, Ranger. Name yourself and why you’re running toward my gate.” The man sounded like I had woken him from a good nap.

My thoughts tumbled out between panting breaths. “I’m Aaron . . . from the mountain . . . I’m a Ranger . . . I mean, from the signal tower . . .Oh, Spirits. . . Tower Two! I’m Ranger Aaron Dempsy from Tower Two. Bret Jensen’s dead. They shot him, but he got the signal lit. I need to see the Captain.Now!”

The guard’s eyes widened as he bolted into action, pulling me through the opening and slamming the heavy gate shut. I jumped as the heavy iron crossbar slammed into place.

“What are you waiting for?” the guard barked, now fully awake. “Go!”

A few moments later, I sat buried under a thick, warm blanket with a cup of steaming tea clutched tightly in both hands. Myteeth had finally stopped chattering—at least from the cold. I’d visited my uncle’s office more times than I could count but only as a doting nephew. Sitting before his desk as a Ranger before his Captain was a different experience entirely. His second-in-command stood by the door with his back straight and hands clasped behind.

Nothing like sitting at the desk of the Rangers’ commander to knock off the winter chill.

Whitman listened patiently as I meandered my way through the attack on the station. I choked up when I talked about Bret and his sacrifice. Whitman already knew about the signal being lit, but he leaned forward as I talked about the attack itself. That was news.

“Our relays brought word of your signal fire, but yours was one of only a few lit across the range,” Whitman said. “We thought it might’ve been an accident. That happens occasionally.”

“Wasn’t no accident, sir.”

“I got that, son. I sent a pair of Rangers to check it out a couple of hours ago, but I wouldn’t expect them back for a half day, at least.” The Captain leaned back, hand covering his mouth.

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