The Turquoise Queen Read online

  The Turquoise Queen

  (Path of the Ranger, Book 8)

  Pedro Urvi

  Other Books by Pedro Urvi

  THE ILENIAN ENIGMA

  THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN GODS

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  Dedication

  To my good friend Guiller.

  Thank you for all your support since day one.

  Contents

  The Turquoise Queen

  Pedro Urvi

  Other Books by Pedro Urvi

  Dedication

  Contents

  MAP

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  The end Book 8

  Acknowledgements

  Author

  Note from the author:

  MAP

  Chapter 1

  It was raining lightly, and the air was a little cool for spring, even in ever-frozen Norghana. The rain was falling on Lasgol’s hooded cloak. As Trotter bore him on, he was thinking about the mission he had been given, without paying too much attention to the raindrops striking the ground around him. He was wondering whether it would turn out to be a complicated mission, a dangerous one. In fact, they all were, one way or another, so in the end he decided not to go on thinking about it and to focus on reaching his destination and solving the problem quickly and efficiently. That was what the Path of the Ranger taught, and that was how he always tried to carry out the missions he was given.

  He pointed ahead. “Keep going, old friend, follow the road to the top of that little hill ahead,” he told his faithful pony. Trotter snorted and moved his head up and down. He was soaking wet, but unlike Lasgol, he seemed to be finding the rain a nuisance.

  Looking at the overcast sky, he could see that it was already beginning to clear and that the rain would soon stop. He was looking forward to the warm spring sun he liked so much, and he was sure Trotter was going to be equally happy. As for the missions, he was already expecting that the ones he would be given in his daily routine would be risky, because otherwise they would not be missions appropriate to a Ranger. Since the end of the civil war three seasons before, all the surviving Rangers had been kept extremely busy, and the missions were coming one after the other, non-stop. The kingdom needed them, and they were all committed to helping. The first of those missions had all concentrated on reconstructing and re-supplying the areas most badly-hit by the war. Through nearly two seasons, they had worked hard to try to bring back some prosperity to the realm. After this had come missions to help the population, in particular the farmers and peasants in small rural areas who were suffering the attacks of bandits, deserters and others of the kind who were taking advantage of the chaos caused by the war. Unfortunately, the proliferation of these human scum, who attacked the weakest in search of easy pickings, or simply out of evil amusement, was always one of the direct consequences of a war.

  Lasgol sighed. He was tired after carrying out non-stop missions for weeks, although on the other hand he felt happy and – at least to some extent – pleased. He was helping Norghana and its people, and that was what really mattered. It was one of the main reasons why he had become a Ranger. Helping to defend the realm, cleansing it of bandits and evildoers, filled him with pride and satisfaction, and that in turn made it more bearable. Nor was he alone. None of the Rangers had had time to rest, or even to be able to sit down and think about the war and the consequences of it which they were now suffering, like all the citizens of the Kingdom of Norghana.

  They reached the top of the hill, following the road, and Lasgol signaled to Trotter to stop for a moment. A radiant sun was making its way through the clouds, and the rain had stopped. He let the warmth of the sun fall on his face and arms, enjoying it for a moment gratefully. The feeling was so joyful that he wished he could stay there in silence, enjoying it for a good while as he rested and absorbed every sunbeam. But he was not going to be so lucky.

  Arrive already? Camu messaged. He had appeared suddenly on Lasgol’s right, frightening poor Trotter, who snorted and shook his head unhappily.

  Camu! Lasgol said reproachfully. His peace and quiet and his enjoyment of the pleasant sun were over. He stroked the pony’s neck, doing his best to soothe the poor animal. Easy, Trotter.

  Sun! Camu announced. He began to do his happy dance, blissful in the sunbeams.

  I’ve told you a thousand times not to appear out of nowhere, because you scare Trotter and Ona, Lasgol reproached him, although he knew there was hardly any point with the creature.

  Camu looked at him mischievously with his bulging eyes, tilting his head to one side and the other. I forget.

  Well then, remember and behave, because I know you.

  I always behave, Camu transmitted back as if he were a good boy, which Lasgol knew perfectly well he was not.

  Sure, and I’m always rested and full of energy, he messaged back, wishing he could sleep for a whole night in a good inn by the warmth of a fire. Unfortunately for the moment there was no chance of that happening, since he had to complete his mission first.

  Ona came up to him from his left and chirped inquisitively. She too seemed to be asking him when they were going to reach their destination.

  Stop asking me. There’s not far to go, but we aren’t there yet, he replied, without much hope that his two frisky companions would stop pestering him. The village of Olsentagh is just a bit further on, he told them as he took his cloak off and shook it to air it. The material was excellent, and neither rain nor snow soaked it or penetrated it. He would not have changed his Ranger cloaks for anything else, especially amid forests and mountains.

  Ona gave a small growl of acceptance and went to dance with Camu. Looking at his two fellow-adventurers, Lasgol smiled. He had to admit, even if he might grumble at times, that he was very lucky. The fact that that these two beautiful animals were his companions, giving him protection and friendship, was both priceless and amazing. He valued this friendship as the greatest of treasures, and he gave thanks to the Ice Gods for being able to enjoy it. For a moment he felt like leaping off Trotter and starting to dance with them in the middle of the damp road. Luckily he was too tired to do anything of the sort. It would look ridiculous in the extreme if some passing peasant or trader were to see him on all fours, waggling his bottom and flexing his arms and legs. He had done it before, and he had the feeling that he would be doing it again someday.

  Mission catch bandit? Camu asked su
ddenly.

  No, this time we’re not catching a bandit.

  Catching bandit fun.

  Catching bandits is no fun at all, it’s dangerous, and I’ve been telling you this for ages. Let’s see if you can pay attention to me for once.

  I good. I pay attention.

  When we’re faced with bandits and thieves and scoundrels and people like that, you need to be very, very careful, because they’re very dangerous. One slip and something terrible could happen.

  Bandits stupid.

  Lasgol put his hand to his forehead and shook his head in despair. What did I just tell you?

  I careful, Camu transmitted with an air of innocence. Lasgol was beginning to find it easier to recognize the little fellow’s expressions, even if the process was complicated by the fact that his face was always smiling, which did not make it easy to tell one expression from another. He had to focus on the tiniest details to do so. But little by little he was beginning to read those expressions, and this gave him a deep satisfaction, because it represented another step forward in their relationship.

  Don’t put on that innocent expression and do what I say.

  I do, Camu promised.

  Good. If I tell you it’s dangerous, it’s for a reason. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or Ona or Trotter. We’re a family, and we’ve got to look after one another. Always.

  I understand. I look after.

  You promise?

  I promise.

  You know if you promise something you’ve got to see it through, right? We’ve talked about it several times already.

  I promise. I see through, Camu transmitted, nodding.

  Lasgol was surprised to see his little friend nodding, which was not something he had ever seen him do before. It showed that he was still maturing and imitating human gestures. Would he be capable of assimilating other gestures like denials, or even more complicated ones like the expression of deep feelings? It was too soon for that, but Lasgol was hopeful that one day he would be able to.

  The breeze touched his face with a cool breath, and he detected something more in the touch of the Gods’ breath: the characteristic smell of burnt wood. He snapped his head in the direction the breeze was coming from and took a deep breath, filling his lungs. There was no doubt that something was burning. He stared at the forest, and in the distance he saw a column of smoke rising to the now-clearing skies. Perhaps it was some peasant burning stubble, but at once he dismissed the idea. The cloud of smoke was too large for that. Something equally large was on fire. As he was some way away, he decided to use his Hawk’s Sight skill to try and see more. When he concentrated and sought his inner energy, he found it lying in his chest like a quiet blue pool, which was how his mind visualized his magic power. A blue flash ran through his head as the skill was activated. Now he could make out what was going on far away. He could see a clearing in the forest and a building which seemed to be the origin of that column of smoke.

  We’re going to see what’s happening with that smoke, he transmitted to his three partners.

  Fun, Camu sent back.

  Ona gave a moan. She did not like smoke. Trotter shook his head. He felt the same.

  We’ll take care and stay alert as we go on. I have a bad feeling about this.

  The vegetation of the forest was not very thick, so that Trotter was able to move through the firs and beeches without too much difficulty. Lasgol always felt safer, more relaxed and better protected when he was amid vegetation. Open roads and wide expanses left him feeling unprotected and vulnerable. The Path taught that Rangers ought always to move under cover of the forests, and after a few missions he had come to understand why. It was not that there were no dangers hidden in a forest, because there certainly were, and some of them were very hard to spot. But the trees and bushes gave a certain protection which the grassland and open country did not.

  They reached a point close enough to allow them to continue on foot. Lasgol preferred to leave Trotter behind. He gave him a couple of pats. Wait for us here. If you sense danger, flee toward the road, he told his pony using his Animal Communication skill.

  He was now using it so much, and so often, that he no longer needed to summon it consciously. His subconscious now did it for him, so that by the time he had decided what message to send, the skill had already been activated. Not only that, but it remained active for a relatively long period of time, allowing him to go on communicating with his partners without having to summon it again. He was very pleased with how fast he was able to call upon this skill, so much so that he felt as though he was doing it without realizing it. Unfortunately, it was the only one of his skills he had managed to develop to that point. The rest took him longer to invoke, and the newer ones, such as Aura Presence, took him forever. It was beginning to be obvious to him that the more he used a skill, the more he developed it. This was something his good friend Egil had explained to him, because it was amply documented and explained in the tomes of Sorcery and Spells they had consulted.

  One thing he wanted to do was to see how he could prolong the effect of his skills. But he had not been very successful so far. He would have to keep trying until he succeeded, and then perhaps he could apply it to his other, less advanced skills. With this in mind, he practiced for some time nearly every day whenever he had a moment to spare. He knew progress was slow, but he kept at it.

  The world of magic was very complex and hard to master, particularly when you wanted to broaden the limits of what you were capable of. When it came to one of his most lethal skills, True Shot, he could neither invoke it quickly nor extend its range. Beyond a hundred paces it simply did not work, which was a real shame. An Archer with a compound bow, or even a short one, could finish him off before he could get close enough to use the skill – or indeed while he was summoning it, since it took a few moments to activate. It was odd that all his skills, no matter how wonderful or useful they might be, had their limitations. He intended to go on developing them, since he was sure he had seen no more than the tip of the iceberg, and that there was far more under the surface which he had not yet discovered.

  He noticed that Camu, beside him, had made himself invisible. Camu too practiced, searching for new skills. His way of doing this was odd and rather chaotic, at least to Lasgol’s eyes. He would choose the skill he wanted to develop almost on a whim, with no real need behind it. If he spotted a gazelle leaping gracefully, he wanted to be able to do the same thing himself, and however much Lasgol tried to convince him that he would never succeed (since he was a pretty sizeable reptile), there was no way of making him change his mind. So Lasgol let him go on trying to develop the skill on a basis of sheer pigheadedness. As was to be expected – at least by Lasgol – he would find he was unable to do it. It would take him weeks to change his mind, which was most curious and frustrating. Camu was so stubborn that he tried Lasgol’s patience, so he simply let things be until the creature either gave up or succeeded. So far he had not acquired any new skill, probably because the ones he chose were either crazy or incomprehensible. At least as far as Lasgol was concerned, because to Camu himself they made absolute sense.

  By now they were reaching the origin of the black smoke. When they came to the end of the forest, Ona gave a low warning growl. She had detected something. She stiffened and arched her back, and the fur on her back and tail stood on end. Lasgol crouched behind a bush and stared out at the plain. To his surprise he could see several large, cultivated fields, with three farms at their edges. One of the farms was burning, and this was the cause of the column of smoke.

  Ugly soldiers, Camu warned him.

  Zangrian?

  No. Dark.

  The reply made Lasgol stiffen. He concentrated and called upon his Hawk’s Sight and Owl Hearing. Two green flashes ran through his head, and at once he saw a group of mercenaries. There was no doubt about their origin. They were tall and muscular, and their skin was dark as a moonless night. They were armed with scimitars. They were Nocea
ns, and if they were mercenaries who had stayed behind in the area after the end of the civil war, they were probably attacking those farms to take anything of value they found.

  They were holding three peasant families beside the second-nearest farm. The first was the one which was on fire, and they were looting the third. Two men lay dead on one side, and several of the prisoners were bleeding. They must have tried to fight back against their captors.

  They’re Nocean mercenaries, from the South of Tremia, from the land of deserts, Lasgol explained to Camu and Ona.

  When visit that realm?

  Lasgol looked at Camu in disbelief. This isn’t the moment for visiting foreign lands.

  Visit fun.

  I’m not saying it wouldn’t be interesting to find new exotic lands, but we’ve got to do our duty, and that duty’s in Norghana. In any case, I don’t suppose you’d like those endless deserts in the far-off southern lands. It’s unbearably hot and there’s barely any water anywhere. And what’s more, you’re a Creature of the Ice. The desert’s the last place you ought to go to.

  I go. I see.

  Maybe one day. For the moment we have other things to worry about, such as those poor peasants.

  Yes. Help peasants.

  I’m afraid those mercenaries are some of the ones Thoran hired for the war. They’re strong, and they’re good fighters with those scimitars and curved knives. Be careful, both of you.

  I careful.

  Ona gave a moan.

  They’re about two hundred paces away. I can get them with my compound bow, but I’m worried about those peasants …

  Release. Kill. End. Camu said, simplifying the situation as only he could.

  It’s not going to be that easy. I can count five mercenaries. They could take the peasants as hostages if I attack, and there are women and children …