Disclaimer: Power Rangers belongs to someone else, not me. Anything that sounds vaguely original may be mine, however. Please don't sue me, I'm but a poor college student.
A/N: This would be my first post ever, so I apologize for any formatting oddities. As for the story itself, for what it's worth, enjoy it or hate it as you will. My only request is that should you choose to review, please no flames, if you have anything to say, please do so constructively. Thank you.
--Random Reader
Here goes nothin'...
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Chapter 4: By the Light of the Moons
The black ranger watched the same moonrise as his teammates from the other side of the Palace of Dahnmara. Once his teammates went their respective ways, he found himself standing alone in the middle of the corridor. Carlos was too excited to go back to his room and do nothing, so he opted to explore, which is what brought him to the veranda.
"I am told, that you are an explorer of galaxies," a clear, cultured voice declared from behind him. Carlos turned to the speaker, an elegantly dressed woman with amber colored hair and striking emerald eyes, standing in the doorway. "Is it true?"
Carlos blinked and swallowed. "I guess you could say that," he eventually replied. He shrugged, "I haven't really explored many, but I have been out of my own." The black ranger looked to the moons, "Watching three moons rise is definitely different for me. We only have one where I come from," he added with a chuckle.
"The three moons of Soloria are said to bring magical properties(1)," the woman explained. "There are those who are gifted with the ability to use it. At one time, magic was banned in our world and it would have been lost to the Ages had there not been a secret school hidden deep within the forests of the Out-Kingdom. When the last Warlock of Zaniel rose, we would have been powerless against his evil. The magic-users from the Forest of Long Shadows revealed themselves and brought with them what was once thought of as being lost. The first King of Caldon decreed that magic could once again be practiced in the High Kingdom. But there is still great mistrust in those who practice it."
"Bummer," Carlos said, and then mentally kicked himself for letting his slang slip. "I mean, that's unfortunate," he amended. "Uh, are you a practitioner?"
The woman's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Of sorts, young sir," she replied.
The black ranger flushed, "Carlos," he stammered. "My name is Carlos Vargas."
The woman smiled, a familiar smile that Carlos had seen on another's face. On Prince Alandor's face! It was then that he realized that he was addressing the Queen. "Brielle," the Queen of Soloria said simply.
Carlos bowed hastily, "Your Majesty," he intoned. "I – uh, I'm sorry."
"Please, Ranger, we were having such a lovely conversation." The Queen stepped onto the veranda fully and also revealed the other two women who had been behind her. "My attendants, Anne and Sibeal," Brielle explained, each woman nodded to Carlos in greeting. "Tell me, Carlos Vargas, what do you think of my home?"
"I haven't had much to see," he replied honestly. "It seems all right so far. Maybe after a little more time, I would be able to tell you."
Anne giggled. "Do all the Rangers speak so freely, Madam?" she inquired. "Most men folk would be quick to please Her Majesty." Something in the way the attendant spoke rang differently in the black ranger's ears.
If it was possible, Carlos' blush deepened. "The others do say I have a way with words."
The three women looked at him sharply. "You understood that, Ranger?" The Queen and her attendants were clearly astonished.
Carlos regarded them quizzically, "Should I not have, your Majesty?"
"Anne spoke in the Dead Language," Brielle explained at length. "There are not many in Soloria who can read the language, let alone speak it. Tell me, Ranger, how is it you understood?"
The black ranger brought his hand to his ear. "Ear piece," he answered. "Andros gave them to us before we left."
"I see," Brielle replied. "It would seem we will have to guard our words carefully around you," she observed. With a smile, the Queen added, "My husband did not study Ancient Solorian very much in school. He is constantly misinterpreting us women folk."
Carlos relaxed. The Queen seemed to be just as easy going as the Prince and as himself. "It will be our little secret, your Majesty." He bowed slightly.
Queen Brielle inhaled deeply. "It is a fair eve, good Ranger," she noted. "Would you not enjoy yourself more in the city?" The Queen rested her hands on the stone railing that lined the veranda. "Dahnmara is not as colorful as other places, but it has its own charm."
"Prince Tiernan suggested bringing a guide." Carlos sighed, "But I don't know anyone and I'd probably embarrass my team if I went by myself and got really lost," he added glumly.
Brielle's eyes twinkled. "Well now you know me, Carlos Vargas," said the Queen, smiling warmly at the black ranger. "I sincerely regret that I cannot personally accompany you, but I am certain that I can arrange a chaperone, if you will."
"I would like that very much."
---
Alandor flirted easily with the serving wench Sara. Of course, the chesty red head had no idea that she was in the company of the Heir to the Throne; nor did the other men and women at the crowded table in the common room of the tavern The Fox and the Hound, save the three other courtiers hidden among them. The Prince had been coming to the city under the guise of a wealthy merchant's son during his squire years. Alandor's knight-master Sir Donavan Han Galston had never been one for Aileron's Court and took his entertainment elsewhere, teaching his then squire the rules of the game(2).
"You would be surprised, my young squire, how few of his Highness' subject actually know what he looks like, let alone his sons." He handed the Heir a tankard of ale. "You will need to know the ways of the world if you plan on taking the throne. It is not restricted to your glittering circles, if you get my meaning." Donavan took a swig of his own tankard while the fourteen-year-old stared at him. The big knight laughed out right at the boy and clapped him on the shoulder, causing the squire to spill a goodly portion of his ale. "Drink up, Alan m'lad," Donavan's speech took on a peasant's brogue. "Your ol' uncle Donny wants you to enjoy your first night in the city of Dahnmara!"
The Heir of Soloria learned to roll dice with ease amongst the merchants and guildsmen in his acquaintance as well as throw knives and pick pockets with the thieves and cutthroats he met.
The Prince was laughing heartily with his friends when two newcomers caught his attention. One he recognized as Connell Brennin, one of the Silver Guardsmen and the other he saw was none other than the black ranger Carlos Vargas. He whispered something to his companion and went to meet them at the bar. "What a fortunate day!" the Prince exclaimed, speaking with a peasant's accent as his knight-master had done. "Connell Brennin, I didn't think I'd be seein' you 'til Market Day tomorrow!"
The Guardsmen gripped Alandor's outstretched hand. "Alan Wainwright as I live and breathe," Connell replied. "It's been a while."
"Indeed." Alandor winked at Connell and drew him and Carlos to his table, ordering two more tankards and making room for them amidst his friends.
Connell introduced the black ranger as Charles, a prospective member of the Guardsmen. "He comes to us by way of my mother's people on the border between Soloria and Rhovia."
Some of the men snorted and lifted their mugs to their lips to cover their distaste. Outlanders were not always received well by the High Kingdom dwellers, the Highlanders. A baleful look from Connell, an Outlander with a notorious reputation for a fiery temper, had them sputtering and muttering a welcome.
"You'll have to forgive this riff raff, Charles," Alandor said, "they're not very well mannered, but they mean well."
"Uh, thanks," Carlos replied awkwardly. "Alan, right?" He recognized Alandor despite the disguise the Prince donned.
Alandor winked, "Aye, lad." He clanked his own tankard against Carlos'. "My people make their living in textile trade. I've been all over Soloria, but my favorite city is Dahnmara." A few of the table's occupants cheered heartily at the Prince's assessment.
"Ye're spreadin' lies, Alan," one of his companions slurred, "you like commin' to Dahnmara s' much because o' our women!"
Connell had whispered Alan Wainwright's history to the black ranger amidst the din of the common room. "His Highness likes to have a good time," the Guardsman spoke in Old Solorian. "This atmosphere allows him to be more at ease than with the Court."
"How does he slip away?" Carlos had asked, watching the Heir handle a throwing knife with a deadly accuracy.
Connell chuckled, "He's a grown man, lad! His mother doesn't dote on him as if he were a babe and his father allows him his privacy. He eats with the Court, but once the King rises to retire, Alandor slips off with that lot of high born loafers to take to the city."
"Do you disapprove of them?" Carlos asked. The black ranger couldn't help but notice Connell's demeaning tone for the Prince's entourage.
Connell shrugged. "I respect both the Princes; the Lord Prince because he is the Heir and has proven his love and loyalty to Crown and country and the Younger because he is my commander. Alandor may love his wine and ale, but he is a good man in a fight. He has gone out of his way to prove himself worthy of the Crown in more ways than one. His brother does the same, a commanding presence in our ranks and rises above his bloodline. The lot of nobles that Alandor brings with him to such taverns as this I tolerate for the sake of the Prince."
"Do you come here often?"
"One of us is always lurking about," Connell replied. He nodded his head towards a cloaked man on the second floor that overlooked the main one. "His father may not acknowledge the fact that his son slips off into the night, but there is little you can hide from your servants. Tiernan disapproves, but will not fight his brother on this. Thus, Alandor is always followed."
"He does know this, right?"
"You're a peculiar fellow, Carlos Vargas!" Connell exclaimed, laughing again at the younger man. "You would believe a Knight of the Realm to be that oblivious?!"
Carlos smiled good naturedly, "I guess the ale is goin' to my head." He set aside his half empty tankard. "What else can you tell me about Alan? No one notices anything...peculiar about young Wainwright?" Carlos chose his words carefully, uncertain of who could be eavesdropping on their conversation and knowing that his words to Connell were in Common.
"He is a fellow who is very dedicated to his family." Connell poured himself and his young companion a glass of water. "He's clever and would never do anything to risk his name."
The black ranger nodded, recognizing the Guardsman's meaning.
"Connell!" The Prince hailed from across the room. "Come here and settle something for me!"
Connell rolled his eyes. "Alan Wainwright, I will not stand in as a live target!"
The common room roared in laughter as Alan feigned innocence. "You think I would ask that of a soldier? Please, Master Brennin, give me a little more credit!"
They sat and drank companionably for several hours. The common room flourished with people dancing and laughing, listening to minstrels and watching a small company of players.
The Prince and his companions shuffled out with the rest of the crowd when the twelfth hour was called.
"We'll try and catch up with you again, Wainwright!" one of the fellows called. He and several others had detached themselves from the Prince's main group of followers. "We know of some pretty young lasses who'll not want to be alone on this chill eve!"
Alandor chortled, "Away with you, lads! And don't let me catch you in the jail house!" Left in his company were Carlos, Connell, the Prince's cousin Medran and a young noble called Daren.
"Shall we return to the Palace, Majesty?" Connell asked in a low voice.
"So quick to resume our identities, Guardsman?" Alandor replied, smiling. "This is Charles' first time in the city; I think we should play the proper escorts."
Carlos grinned broadly. "I think I would like that very much, sir."
The Prince started to lead the way through the maze of the Lower West District towards the Market Place, commenting about various locations on the way. It seemed very obvious to Carlos that Alandor was much more than what he seemed. He was not, as Connell had pointed out, a man who just liked to drink and have a good time. He was also a man who would become a king, and he was a king-to-be who knew more than just the aristocracy for he spoke respectfully of all of his subjects.
As the entourage was leaving the Market Place, there came a sudden movement from one of the alleyways.
"Well, well, well," a cold voice sneered, "it seems we have some lost young gentlemen. Trying to find your way back to the East District are you?"
The Prince's eyes narrowed and his companions tensed. "Stand down, brigand," Alandor replied coolly. "You know not who you are up against."
"On the contrary, your Majesty, I think we do." The speaker stepped from the shadows and was flanked by two other men; all three were wielding weapons. The leader, a lean and towering man, regarded the Heir with smoldering eyes. "I bid you good evening, Prince Alandor."
Alandor's green-hazel eyes glittered dangerously.
The giant flicked his sword to the level of his eyes, a mocking salute before barking, "Take them!" More bandits spilled out from the alley and fell from the rooftops.
Carlos' ranger instincts kicked in, but he was not alone in his reflex. Prince Alandor took the leader head on, while Medren, Daren and Connell held their own against the newcomers.
The black ranger's training had allowed him to best most of the outlaws. Faster than Carlos could react, however, one of the men rushed him headlong and the ranger found himself in a precarious position, struggling to keep the man's knife from embedding itself in his throat. Suddenly, the man gave a cry of pain and stiffened. His eyes reflected shock and pain and Carlos felt the life flee from the bandit's body. As the dead man slumped forward onto the stunned ranger, Carlos saw an arrow shaft protruding from his former foe's back. Judging by the angle, he knew that the projectile could have only come from above. Risking a quick look, he saw the same man from the tavern, the one that Connell had pointed out as "one of us is always lurking about" fitting another arrow to his bow.
The battles Carlos had fought never really involved killing.
He had no time to reflect on what had just happened, though. The black ranger heard the Prince give a cry and Carlos was on his feet rushing towards the Solorian Heir.
He caught Alandor's attacker and shoved the man roughly away from his companion. Unconsciously, Carlos brought his hand to his morpher.
"NO!" Alandor saw what the ranger was about to do and grasped Carlos' shoulder urgently. "Don't be foolish!"
Carlos blinked. Before he could argue with the Prince, the other man had been silenced by an arrow.
Alandor stood beside the black ranger. "No one knows you're here, Charles," the Prince said in a low voice. "Don't be so quick to jeopardize your mission because one fellow comes closer than any of us would have liked. I can take care of myself," he added sharply.
Carlos stuttered an apology, but the Heir dismissed it.
A low groan emitted from one of the would-be killers. Alandor strode forward and grabbed the man roughly. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The wounded man sneered painfully at Alandor and with great effort spit in the Prince's face. The Heir was about to strike the man, but Connell appeared beside Alandor and took a firm hold of the Prince.
"That's enough," he ordered. "Let the Guard deal with this man."
"He knows too much," Alandor argued.
"True," Connell agreed, "but your method will not bring us any closer to knowing who employed him."
"We'll see about that," the Prince growled. He uttered words that sounded strangely wispy and foul. The words seemed to burn Carlos' ears, and hissing in pain, he covered them.
The would-be assassin glowed a hue of green and terror such as the black ranger had never seen in any living person's expression drew across his features. Carlos could only stare in morbid fascination as the glow enveloped both the man and the Heir. He jerked forward, but a warning look from Medren stopped him.
Suddenly, the Prince let go of the man. "Let us away," he said, his voice was tinged with ice.
"Leave him," Connell urged. "The Guard will be here soon, and this one will be dealt with."
Alandor met the Silver Guardsman's eyes levelly. "He will be indeed, Brennin."
The bodies of the bandits still littered the street and Carlos hesitated. Daren was behind him. "No time to dawdle, lad," he whispered. "Alandor is in no mood to argue."
Carlos' legs finally responded to his brain and he found himself following the others. The Prince's eyes met the ranger's as he passed and for the first time since meeting the Heir, Alandor's eyes were fierce and glinting with a dark edge Carlos couldn't quite explain.
When Alandor was certain that the others were well enough away, he looked to the roof top where the archer was perched. He nodded briefly, and as the Prince moved to join the others, an arrow flew into the last bandit with a sickening thunk.
---
"Treachery!" Tiernan roared. The Younger Prince slammed his fist down into his brother's desk.
"Be easy, Tiernan," Alandor admonished. "They were taken care of."
"You should stop these escapades, Alan Wainwright," Tiernan argued. "What if something worse had happened?"
Alandor glared at his brother. "You're worse than the Nursemaid, little brother." He winced as the Healer wrapped the superficial wound the Lord Prince sported on his shoulder. "I was not careless."
"Your shoulder begs to differ."
"I resent that, Prince Tiernan," the Heir said tersely. "I informed you of what transpired not to be scolded like a child, but so that you would keep your men on the lookout."
"Then you would agree with me that something is happening in the capital?"
"No, I would not!" Alandor was on his feet. "This sort of thing is nothing new to either of us, Tiernan. We would not be princes if someone was not always trying to gain from our demise. I want you and your Guardsmen to find out who this Rogue is and bring him to me, and I don't want Father or Mother to learn any of this."
"Alandor..."
"This is a command, Lieutenant." The Lord Prince's eyes regarded his Younger balefully. "Send out the Whisperers and carry out my wishes or there will be hell to pay!"
Tiernan's jaw tightened, but he saluted his brother. "By your leave, Lord Prince," he replied through clenched teeth. ------
"I don't need to tell you, do I, Carlos." Connell and Carlos had entered the Palace the same way they had left, by way of a hidden passage. They were now situated in a hidden alcove changing out of their disguises. "I understand your obligation to your teammates, but if any of the courtiers found out..."
"Say no more," the black ranger replied. "Alan Wainwright got into a scuffle, not anyone else."
Connell smiled at the younger man. "His Majesty is in your debt, Ranger."
Carlos scoffed. "Hardly," he said dismissively. "You and he both said it, he is a knight."
"Even the best warriors falter, Carlos Vargas," Connell observed.
---
(1) - hommage to Solinari, Lunitari and Nuitari of Krynn in the Dragonlance novels
(2) - hommage to Tamora Pierce's Song of the Lioness Quartet; Prince Jonathan frequently visited the Dancing Dove under the guise of "Johnny"
Thank you for taking the time to read this new chapter. My apologies for taking so long, school has resumed for this wayward senior and I find myself being incredibly overwhelmed...and it's only been two weeks ! Curse the senior thesis -- is a B.A. really all that important? I will try to balance writing in with my studies!! Special thanks to Jeanka-san for being so patient! Until next time...Happy reading!!
--Random Reader