15. Aaron

Chapter 15

Aaron

T he sturdy stone hut held most of winter’s bitter wind at bay, but tiny whistles sneaked through cracks in the tower’s ancient window frames. Glass rattled with each hearty gust. Half a league below, flickering stars could be seen through the blanket of crisp darkness as campfires dotted the Kingdom’s countryside in every direction.

I turned from the window and began unpacking my rucksack, tossing clothes across my cot in no apparent pattern. It had taken more than a week of hard climbing to reach the highest peak in the mountain range that formed the border between the Kingdom and Melucia. At seventeen years old, I was wiry but strong for my age. And yet, trek like that, in the harsh cold of a highland winter, could suck the life out of any man.

I eyed my companion out of the corner of one eye. “How long you think this hunk o’ stone’s been here?”

Sergeant Bret Jensen sat across the cabin, covered in a pile of fur blankets. He was a mountain of a man; it took a lot of fur to cover his bulk. His gravelly voice responded, “Hmm. Stories say these things were made by the Mages right after that mad witch Irina died trying to take over the world. Manning the peaks and the signal beacons was the most important duty given to the first Rangers. Guess that means they’re nine hundred, maybe a thousand, years old.”

“You said beacons . There’s more than just this one?”

Bret sighed heavily and squinted up at me. “You really don’t pay attention, do you? Captain went over all this before we left. There’s fifty leagues of mountain border and seven beacons. Plus three more that are meant to be secret.”

Declan Rea had been my trainer and mentor while a cadet in the Academy, but Bret took over my training once I donned the Green. Rangers weren’t supposed to build bonds beyond soldierly camaraderie, but Bret had taken me under his wing and watched out for me like a father might a son. He claimed I reminded him of his own boy, said we had the same wiry brown hair that coiled in every direction. He said we even shared a ridiculous lopsided grin that somehow made Bret laugh just looking at it.

“Secret? Why keep a hut on a peak secret?” I asked.

Bret sighed and sat up. “There’s ten signal pyres. When one lights, all of us respond by lighting ours. That lets folks in Groves Pass know an attack’s coming. If the enemy wanted to sneak up on us, what’s the first thing they’d do?”

I stared blankly. My eyes strained in concentration and lips pursed. My head finally bobbed excitedly, and a grin plastered across my ruddy face. “Oh! I know! They’d take out our pyres. Wouldn’t want our folks knowing they were coming.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all Bret could muster, his eyes sparkling at my enthusiasm.

I walked to the hearth and shuffled logs. Flames danced merrily in response.

“Ya know, we’re darn lucky we got peak watch. If there’s ten of these huts, only twenty Rangers are gonna sleep out of the cold tonight. Think of those poor boys roaming through the mountains on patrol, freezing their tits off.”

Bret grinned. “Why don’t you use some of that luck and get us some more wood? Pile’s getting low.”

I nodded, glad to have a useful task, even after our long days of climbing. I threw on my heavy coat and stretched thick leather gloves over my fingers.

The pine-filled gust that rushed in when I opened the door nearly doused the fire. I stuck my head back through the open doorway. “Thought a little cool air might do ya good, old man.” I grinned and slammed the door.

The fire had dwindled to embers before I burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me and pressing my back against it.

Bret lifted his head from where he’d fallen asleep.

“There’re men . . . shootin’ arrows!” I doubled over, trying to catch my breath.

Bret shot to his feet, grabbed his bow, and threw a quiver over his shoulder. “How many? Did you get a look at them?”

“I think four, maybe more, wearing Kingdom colors.”

Bret finished pulling on his gloves. “Get away from that door. An arrow could snap through the wood and kill you.”

My eyes popped open as I flung myself across the room.

“Now listen to me, boy. I’m going out there to light the signal. When I get out the door, you need to run as fast as you can to HQ in Grove’s Pass. Tell them what you saw, that we lit the signal.” He gripped me roughly by the shoulders. “This is the most important thing you’ll ever do, Aaron. Can you do it for me?”

I nodded hard as confusion crept into my eyes. “But what about you?”

Bret’s crooked smile carried a touch of sadness. “My time’s done, son. This is your war to fight. Let’s go.”

Bret threw himself out the door toward the signal pyre. Bitter cold slammed into me the moment I stepped outside. Bret hesitated for only a moment, then raced to hide behind the wood pile on the other side of the cabin.

I threw myself down behind a watering trough and peered around the edge.

A loud whack behind Bret’s head made him dive to the hard, snow-packed ground. His eyes darted back to the red-fletched arrow still wobbling where it embedded into the wooden door. A second arrow struck a foot above his head.

He scrambled behind the stacks of split wood and peered around the end. The night was ablaze with light from the full moon, and I counted four silhouettes, each aiming arrows in Bret’s direction.

Whack! Whack!

Two slammed into the wood pile in quick succession.

I watched in horror as dark forms moved to either side.

Bret was surrounded.

He fired an arrow into the darkness and was rewarded with a loud cry, but two more arrows assaulted his position.

The archers hadn’t appeared to notice me, so I crawled to the edge of the cabin and hid around the corner, readying to make a break for the forest.

Another bolt hit the pile, the iron tip peeking between logs just above Bret’s head.

Time ceased to exist.

The world froze.

Bret turned and met my gaze.

Something in his eyes spoke more words than his mouth ever had. I knew what he meant to do. Everything in me begged to throw myself at him, to scream for him to stay hidden and safe, but too much was at stake. He’d been right.

The world woke from its moment’s pause, and Bret sprang to his feet, abandoning the cover of the pile. Two strides later, he threw himself into a roll, barreling across the yard, creating an unpredictable target for the archers bearing down on him. An arrow missed his head by a hair as another buried itself deep in his calf. He cried out but hurled himself toward the cliff where the forty-foot signal pyre held its ancient vigil.

His left hand gripped one of the massive logs at the pyre’s base, but two arrows caught him in the shoulder and back.

I watched as he fought to rise.

My heart raced.

The world spun.

With one last flick of his wrist, Bret used the last of his failing strength to call upon his Gift and sent a tendril of flame into the cold wood.

Three more arrows slammed into him as archers raced toward where he lay lifeless against the pyre.

The mountain peak held its breath—until a loud whoosh rose from the belly of the pyre, engulfing the wood and its fallen guardian.

A sun blazed atop the mountain, awake for the first time in a thousand years.

In moments, answering stars roared to life on neighboring peaks along the range.

And with them, the war began.