The Turquoise Queen

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