Aidan gratefully took the coin and walked away from the odd man.
“Did you feel what I felt?” The breeder asked Amilech as the boy walked away.
The wizard nodded. “It’s why I picked him up on the side of the road. Perhaps it was only one of the eggs. It would be rare, but not as rare as what I’m thinking. Should we follow him?”
The other man slowly nodded. “I will check the eggs, to be sure that we aren’t confused. You stay with the boy. I’ll have a griffin ready to take you both to the fort if necessary. Try to be gentle, Amilech.”
“I’m always gentle!” Amilech snapped. “Have that bird ready. I hope to be seeing you soon.”
Aidan bought a sausage with the coin as soon as he came back to the main street. He was fairly certain that the coin was worth far more than the sausage, but had never had the chance to learn about currencies, and the merchant had been helpful in directing Aidan to the Ranger’s consignment office. Aidan was beginning to feel nervous has he took the side road that would take him to his future, whatever it might be. He could no longer count on his father’s reputation to help him succeed, and his own skills with a bow were certainly not first class. He was a fairly decent shot and could normally take down a deer, but Rangers were said to be able to knock a man off his horse from four hundred feet away with ease. His stealth skills were certainly lacking, and while he was good at fist fighting, he had learned very little about the use of knives, key components of a Ranger’s fighting style. And to make matters worse for Aidan, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
The office was just a little building, tucked away in the back corner of the city and painted green and brown. There was no door, just a deerskin curtain, which Aidan pushed aside as he stepped inside. The room was sparsely furnished, with a desk and two chairs in the middle and a mounted head of some giant beast on the back wall directly over another door. In the chair behind the desk sat a man who appeared to be in his fifties, though he still appeared strong and fast. He was clothed in a green hood and cloak, with an unstrung bow at his side. He was focusing intently on some arrows in various stages of completion on the desk in front of him. Aidan realized that this was the first time he had ever seen a Ranger in person.
“Yes?” The man said, never looking up from his arrows.
Aidan’s mind blanked for a horrible second before he could respond.
“I want to be a Ranger.”
The man chuckled. “I highly doubt that. Whatever stories you have heard aren’t true. What are you expecting?”
Aidan said nothing.
“The average lifespan of a Ranger is five to ten years after he joins. You have no support, no backup, only your training, your bow, and your knife. You will most likely die with only four fingers,” he stopped to hold up his left hand, which was missing the middle and little finger, “your body in constant pain from the goblin poison running through your veins, and with a lifetime of regrets, the blood of dozens of men on your hands. You will become a ruthless killer, and throw away your only hope to ever have a family. Are you sure, boy?”
For a moment, Aidan hesitated. But I made it this far. He thought. And there is no place for me back home.
“Yes, I am sure,” The boy said.
The man raised an eyebrow. “Either you are incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Brutus!”
A younger Ranger, heavily muscled with scars running across his hands, ducked into the room from the back doorway.
“This young man wants to join our numbers. Make sure he’s capable. I’ll notify the council.” The older man said.
Aidan felt excitement rise into his chest as Brutus nodded and led the boy out the back doorway into a courtyard, which boasted a small archery range and a rack of strung bows.
First the Ranger took his bow, which was good for little more than small game, and replaced it with a far sturdier, larger weapon. Next, he instructed Aidan to begin shooting at the target.
The village boy had never used a bow of this power, and was surprised at how difficult it was to pull the string to his cheek. He found himself consistently missing the mark, even after he had been shooting for a half hour. Brutus was silent, not se your back more.” At length the Ranger removed the bow from the boy’s hands and ushered him back into the tent.
Aidan’s arms were sore, and he was furious with himself for his poor performance. He wished for nothing more than to ask the grizzled Ranger whether or not he give up now and go home, but doubted that would be wise.
Aidan was surprised to hear two voices as he entered the tent. The older Ranger was talking to the wizard, Amilech.