The Last Ranger of Sarn

The Last Ranger of Sarn

Chronicles of the Huntress – Book One

Forward: What the Rains Witness

The darkness enveloped the world in an eerie silence. Destiny stood poised, dagger in hand, ready to begin the first of so many cuts of fate into the soft flesh of Castia. Clouds gathered as the homes below remained dark, their inhabitants slumbering peacefully. None knew of the rough handling their world would feel in just a few short years.

A very pregnant woman tossed fitfully in her sleep, beside her softly snoring husband. The child in her womb was awake, feeling elemental sensations, a primal urge within her that whispered be ready; be ready for birth or perhaps something more? Slowly and steadily, the child turned into position while the mother’s body began to tighten, preparing for the coming trauma of birth.

All around their home was the land of Castia, a country within a larger country called Sarn. The people of this fair land are called Castian or Sarnian by their allies and much worse by their enemies.

At first glance, the Castian people appeared human, but first glances can often be deceiving. The Castian are magical folk, fair keepers of the wood, filled with mirth and whimsy. This gave them an ethereal elegance to their looks. They were as tall as human men were but thinner. Their ears were longer and tapered, with eyebrows that arched well past their facial boundaries. These attributes enhanced the physical world around them. Their keen ears helped them to hear all that nature whispered to them while those regal brows gathered the minute particles of change carried by the winds. Their fingers were long and thin, equally adept at weaving spells, passing thread through the eye of a needle, drawing the sinew of their bows back with ease or playing the musical instruments they crafted and all but worshiped.

Music and harmony were mainstays of their lives, opening both heart and mind. It enabled them to solve monumental problems, to gather socially and dance in an ever-growing circle of released energies that would bind the Castian’s in a final frenzied and spectacular explosion of magic, leaving them sated and spent, content to be in one another’s company. Music was beauty and strength for the Castian people.

On this night, below the haunted moon, flashes of lightning danced from cloud to cloud while the thunder rolled softly as it followed its energetic trail.

In the forests, a lioness watched from her den as she suckled three tawny cubs. She was a good mother, choosing a cave with an outcropping of rocks above, giving the entrance a protective overhang, while the floor had a slightly downward pitch preventing water from running into the denning area. Somewhere between the rolling thunders, she heard a man snoring. She had no idea that destiny would choose an unborn cub of hers, who in twelve years’ time, would join her family with his. The hunters of Castia often had hunting companions. The man she heard snoring had a black lioness who frequented the cave of the suckling mother, often bringing a fresh kill, helping her to stay longer with her cubs.

The skies opened, allowing soft, steady rain to fall. The sunrise was approaching but the grey pallor of the clouds did not give way. Despite the rain, life continued in the woodlands.

The woman heard the first soft trilling of the morning birds competing with the steady rhythm of the rain. Her husband stirred beside her, his ears attuned to the world of nature, even in his sleep. He was a good man, laying quietly, contemplating the love he carried for the wild world beyond his windows as well as the love he carried for the woman by his side.

“The woodlands are awakening Husband,” she said softly. “It is time for you to do the same. There are larders that need filling for a community.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a sigh.

Castia was not all woods and meadows. The Castian also built villages and towns that ranged in population from a handful up to hundreds. They had villages on the edge of farmlands where tillers lived, villages next to lakes and oceans where the fishers lived, and villages in the forests where the hunters lived. The towns linked the villages, home to tinkers, sellers and to soldiers. The towns had teachers, doctors and counselors who presided over the regencies.

At the northernmost part of the land sat the jewel of Castia, the Holy City of Tiran. Within the high alabaster walls of Tiran sat the government and the seat of knowledge in the form of a conclave of elders who taught only the highest forms of subjects…magic and music especially.

Gallus Althor, a wise and just king, ruled Castia. The Royal Family consisted of Queen Anor and his children Prince Frall and Princess Surea. The king decreed all matters of policy, but being wise, he enlisted council to advise him. His council was made of men and women appointed by the people as leader of their Regency. They all lived within the regency they spoke for with the exception being the High Ministers who lived within the city walls. They included the Ministers of Magic, of Music, of Defense and of Life. As surmised by the title, the Minister of Defense was a necessary part of Castia. Idyllic as Castia was, fresh, full of life and harmony, it was not the only land in this world. Deep in the south of Castia, high mountains lifted, stretching from coast to coast. In the middle, a solitary pass carved through and into the land of Bardynn.

The king of Bardynn, Zane Harram was a warrior who held alliances with other lands. Together, they fought off a mighty army of invaders called The Gar’voth on several occasions. The last time the Gar’voth attacked; they circumvented the wide planes of Bardynn and entered Castia through the pass searching for the magic that would bring victory against the Allied Armies.

As the dawn rushed forward and the rains washed away the cares of the Castian people, King Harram’s son tossed fitfully in his sleep. He dreamt of hideous monsters that first ravaged him and then called him Master. They were disheveled and horrendous, their flesh oozing pus and falling off in strips. As they passed over a bridge in his dream, the young Prince turned to look at his reflection. He woke, bathed in sweat and screaming for his life.

At that same pre-dawn moment, in an ironclad city across the northern seas, the warlord of the Gar’voth met with the tribal master of the Junin people. The swarthy Junin was animated in his oration, knowing that the ancient prophecy was upon them.

“You got to be makin’ peace with the Castian now,” he said, more as a command than a request.

“Only a madman would think they would listen to either of us,” argued the warlord. “Let it go my friend, just let it go.”

“This ain’t no passin’ fancy,” replied the dark hunter. “This be the future for my people. I got no right to just let it go.”

The warchief sighed, recalling the past when the great sages of Castia imbued powers into a series of stone monoliths surrounding the land. The protective power of the stones allowed the land to perpetually flourish and prosper, remaining in a state that best allowed life. Temperatures held with little fluctuation. The rains were gentle and nurturing. The stones kept out the harsh world beyond the pass. The Gar’voth believed possessing that magic would protect their armies within a magic dome, allowing them to attack without fear of retribution. However, when they tried to remove the stones, they could not harness the energies and more tragedy befell them. They turned their anger to the stones, toppling some and defacing the rest. The Warlord was just a young Captain then, but knew this would never bring honor to his people.

The people of Castia were ill prepared for the attack and could not stop the onslaught. The village hunters gathered as the only army that Castia had, marching to battle the Gar’voth. Many were killed but with sheer willpower and the unleashed violence of the magical knowledge of the sages, they managed to push the invaders back through the pass. Behind them, the armies of Bardynn and their allies waited.

In the weeks that followed, the Gar’voth, severely beaten and perilously close to total annihilation broke free in a last, desperate battle and escaped into the great Bosani Wilds. The Allied Armies pursued them for more than a year, across two continents, satisfied that the threat would never arise again. However, the destruction within Castia was horrible and irreversible. The lands would never again have the protection from the elements.

Today in those peaceful lands, the blithe dancing lightning ceased as the sky filled with shimmering rose-colored hues. In this dawn, the rains remained steady as they had all night, but for this brief moment, it seemed as if destiny allowed a glimmer of hope to ride along the rainbow it formed over the valley where the wife kept her home. She watched her husband pull on a shirt, noting the scar from where the Gar’vothian lance had found him. The Castian people had won the war but they had lost much in doing so.

The Gar’voth had strong ties with the Junin. They were hellish brutes with large, pointed teeth on their lower jaws and coarse spiked hair covering their heads. The Junin held dark sacrificial rituals, working with nature and magic to create spells that they could attach to physical things. When the Gar’voth invaded, the Junin found footholds in the mountains and hills. The threat of the Castian hunter-army was all that kept the savages at bay.

The Sages of Sarn were able to sustain the elemental protection that the stones once provided, but only to the city of Tiran. The entire city and seven miles in all directions remained in perpetual springtime. Those who lived beyond the barrier now had to adapt to life as the rest of the world did. Nevertheless, the people of Castia were strong and resourceful, not only adapting, but also flourishing. They learned to farm and hunt during the changing seasons successfully. Their artisans learned to build shelters to withstand the harshest of winters and the hottest of summers.

They formed communities, caring for one another. Hunters shared pelts and meats with farmers who shared crops and dairies with tailors, teachers and doctors. Builders shared with fishers…everybody using their talents to keep each other alive and well.

The wife remembered both her father and husband speaking before the Council, admonishing the leaders for their lack of drive in securing the boundaries of their land. The King seemed to agree with them and the thousands of others who rallied behind them.

King Althor formed the Ministry of Defense, appointing Ulurod, a hunter as High General of Castia. Ulurod then formed several facets of defense for the lands. First was the Tiranian Guard, soldiers who lived within and protected Tiran exclusively. He created the Regent Guard, soldiers that lived within the central town of each regency, forming the infantry for the Castian Army.

They focused on repelling the Junin who had settled in the land, sweeping into villages to steal crops and other goods. They would sometimes make off with women from the villages for their sacrifices. The defenses of Ulurod were successful. Eventually, the army reduced the Junin threat, until they disappeared altogether. Many suspected the enemy never left their lands. They theorized the Junin instead, tunneled into the mountains where they sat and waited for their time to come again. All it would take would be the right sacrifice.

General Ulurod also formed the Sarnian Rangers, which he led himself. The Rangers were a legendary cavalry unit created from the finest soldiers in all of Sarn before the world changed. Filled with both Cas’votah and Tor’votah, they patrolled the lands of Sarn from southern tip to northern point. Ulurod named his new cavalry after them in order to bring the same sense of pride those earlier riders held.

They could shoot an arrow with deadly accuracy while riding across an open field or through a wooded glade at full gallop. They became excellent equestrians and had the uncanny ability to walk their mounts in silence through the forests. It was said, that an entire regiment of Rangers could walk past, not more than forty feet away and you would never know. It was a most fortuitous skill to possess.

Under Ulurod’s new plans, the people of Castia were now free to become hunters and trappers, farmers, anglers, bakers, tailors and armorers again.

They could raise families.

Like the one that the hunter and his wife were starting.

She stared at the falling rain outside. The day was beginning to heat up despite the steady showers. Today, she felt her pregnancy more than before. She could feel herself becoming more uncomfortable. In the next room, her mother was preparing a breakfast. The woman smiled at another normal day with a normal rain. They all felt secure in their home with the mighty armies of Castia ever on patrol.

Nevertheless, even with her mighty army, Castia and all the world would soon face their worst nightmare. Destiny was sometimes a harsh mistress and today she had decided to indulge herself.