No Safe Hour

I would not escorted to noble quarters. This realization struck me long before I saw where I would be sleeping. The red-haired ranger dragged me through the upper halls of the garrison by the back of my collar like a misbehaving dog. My boots scraped against old wooden floors.

Every passing ranger stared. Some laughed. Others whispered. A few simply looked disappointed that I was still alive. One silver-haired elf muttered:

"That's him?"

Another spat near my feet.

"That's Ashwinter's nephew?"

I kept my mouth shut. For once. Growth. Painful, humiliating growth.

The ranger stopped outside Captain Hannah's private chambers. Massive carved doors stood guarded by two silent sentries.

For one stupid moment, I thought perhaps Hannah had shown mercy. Perhaps I would be stationed nearby because of my title. Perhaps…

The ranger opened a tiny side door beside Hannah's chamber. My optimism died instantly. It was a storage closet. A very small storage closet. She threw me inside. I crashed into buckets, cloths, and cleaning supplies. Something sharp stabbed my ribs.

The ranger leaned against the doorway smiling.

"This is your room."

I stared at her.

"This is a closet."

Her smile disappeared. She stepped forward.

I immediately corrected myself.

"This is a wonderful closet."

Her smile returned. Much worse.

"There's your bed."

She pointed. In the corner sat a thin mattress. If one could call it that. It looked older than some kingdoms. Stained. Sunken. Mold creeping across one side. It rested beside mops, soap buckets, and old weapon-cleaning oil. Above it was a tiny barred window no wider than my forearm. Cold wind seeped through the cracks.

The ranger tossed my bag at me.

"Wake up before dawn."

"For what?"

She laughed.

"That's adorable."

Then she slammed the door shut. Darkness swallowed me. I sat there for a long time. Listening. The camp never truly slept. Metal clashed somewhere in the distance. Women shouted battle chants.

Horses screamed. Someone was singing. No...not singing. It sounded ritualistic. Like mourning. But there was no sadness in it. Only rage. The sound rose through the forest like ancient ghosts crying for war. Then came drums. Slow. Violent. Relentless.

I wrapped myself in my coat and lay on the mattress. The smell nearly made me vomit. Mold. Sweat. Blood. Rotting leather.

I stared at the ceiling. My brothers were likely sleeping in warm beds right now. My father probably sat near a fireplace drinking expensive wine. My mother likely told guests how honorable this arrangement was. How proud she was.

I laughed bitterly into the darkness. Then whispered, thinking of the company I had to keep for the next several months.

"Savages."

Silence. Then..the door creaked open. I sat upright.

Three red-cloaked rangers entered. Their movements were uneven. Drunk. The smell of ale hit me immediately. One kicked the door shut behind her. The tallest one crouched in front of me. She smiled. And I realized drunken elves somehow looked even more dangerous.

"You called us savages."

Ice ran through my veins.

"How did…"

She punched me across the mouth.

My head slammed against the wall. Blood filled my mouth.

"I asked no question."

The second elf picked up one of my books from my bag. She laughed at the title.

"History of Royal Warfare?"

She tossed it into a dirty bucket of water. The third one leaned against the wall watching. Too calm. That one frightened me most. The tall elf grabbed my shirt.

"You know who died in Ashwinter?"

I remained silent. She punched me again.

"My sister."

Another punch.

"My cousin."

Another.

"My fiancé."

That one landed so hard I saw white.

"I didn't fight at Ashwinter," I gasped.

"Wrong answer!"

She threw me onto the floor. All three began kicking me. Ribs. Back. Stomach. Legs. I curled into myself. They kept going. I tried covering my face. A boot crushed my hand. I screamed. One grabbed my hair and pulled my head up.

"You wear noble silk while our dead rot in ash."

She slammed my face into the floorboards. I tasted blood and splintered wood. Something inside me snapped. I swung wildly. My fist connected with someone's jaw.

Silence.

The room froze. All three stared at me. I had made a catastrophic mistake. The calm one smiled.

"Oh."

The beating became much worse. Boots. Fists. Elbows. Someone slammed my ribs with a wooden stool. I screamed until screaming became impossible. My vision blurred.

The final thing I remember…was one of them kneeling beside me. She gently brushed hair from my forehead. Almost tender. Then she whispered.

"Welcome to the Red Rangers."

And struck me across the temple. Darkness consumed everything.