Valadel

Chapter I

Danticus pulled back the string of his bow. Throughout his muscle, he felt the power and force that would send his arrow flying into his target. He squinted one of his emerald colored eyes and aimed with the other. He took a deep breath, and held his breath as long as his lungs would allow, and let the arrow fly. He was disappointed it didn't pierce the heart of the battle training dummy. He ran his fingers through his curly brown hair in frustration.

His cousin, Cristomir, examined his form, and then the dummy with an arrow in its sack arm. "A decent shot if I say so myself. But you missed his heart. You have to be better than that, Danny. Old Uncle Mason could hit the bullseye with one eye closed, and he's missing a damn eye!" The warrior bit his full lip just above his square, stubbled chin, and his muddy brown eyes were filled with humor.

"Ah, to the Abyss with you, I was close enough! A shot like that could kill a man," Danticus snapped back.

"It could...but wouldn't you rather be sure? I've survived far worse than that," his fingers met the scar on his leg where that meddlesome arrow stuck him years ago, "better your aim and try not to think too much."

Danticus offered up his bow sarcastically and scoffed. "Care to show me how?"

Cristomir held up his hand in a passing manner. "I prefer a blade in my hand. The sword is the true path of the warrior."

Danticus snickered. Cocksure ass, he thought to himself.

"And the bow is the weapon of a smart man. Why let them get up close? Pick 'em off from a distance..." he let another arrow fly, and it dug its way into the outer ring of the bullseye target next to the dummy.

Cristomir whistled. "And you wish to call yourself a ranger."

"Stow it, the wind is gusty this morning."

Cristomir smirked. "The wind wouldn't stop a ranger, though it was a better shot than your last, I'll give you that."

"And when do you think I will become a ranger? Have I not done enough?" Danticus asked his cousin.

Cristomir pondered the question, and combed through his chestnut hair with his thick fingers. "That's not my decision to make. Not everyone can be made a ranger. You're a capable warrior, but you are young, Danticus."

"As young as most rangers..."

Danticus was younger. At twenty, he was three years younger than his cousin.

"I was merely a year older than you when I was inducted. Be patient. Your time will come."

Danticus had always dreamed of being a ranger, ever since he was eight years of age. The day he turned sixteen, he and Cristomir ran away from their fishing village in pursuits of becoming knights.

"So how are things with you and Jenna?" Danticus asked.

Cristomir smiled, mostly to himself. "Better than ever. Our marriage will be in the autumn, her favorite season. Though she has been ill lately."

"How so?"

"She hasn't felt well in the mornings. She spends most of the sunrise hugged to a chamber pot. I hope she won't need a doctor."

"Is she with child?" Danticus asked blatantly.

Cristomir laughed, somewhat nervously. "Oh, wouldn't that be something...Gallador wouldn't approve of a bastard child."

"You've been bedding her, haven't you?" Danticus asked with a devious smile.

Cristomir shook his head, and half smiled. "That's between me and Jenna. Your nose has no business there, cousin."