The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,55

course not. Because much as we would like to have clear answers to such challenging questions, there rarely are. You have a soaring intellect and generous heart, Lieutenant. I have no doubt that those qualities will one day make you an excellent leader. But for now, you are a soldier, and such vast philosophical questions will only hamper you. There is but one thing you need to concern yourself with at present.”

“Wh-what is that, sir?”

“Look at that beautiful girl, sitting serenely in her garden of plenty. See how the sunlight rests gently on her fair countenance as she engages in that noblest of pursuits, the betterment of the mind. Would you want anything to disturb her?”

“No, sir.”

“No?” Vittorio continued in a mild voice. “What about a horde of the undead spilling over the garden wall to assault her delicate frame? Imagine their skeletal fingers piercing her pale, tender flesh as they dine gluttonously upon her entrails. Imagine her screams of unbearable agony and horror. Would you allow that?”

Sebastian could only stare at the commander, who spoke so calmly of such a horrific scene.

At last Vittorio turned to him, his eyes burning with passion. “Wrestling with doubt and conscience is all well and good in times of peace, Lieutenant. But make no mistake, we are preparing for war, and that makes our choices very simple. We protect those we love by any means at our disposal, or we allow them to suffer terribly and die. Soldiers in wartime do not have the luxury of moral quandaries.”

“I… see, sir.”

“Look upon this peaceful maiden. Fix her image in your mind so that you may call upon it whenever doubt or worry begins to take hold, and remind yourself that the time may come when your hard work and unflinching resolve are the only things that stand between this young woman and an army of cruel and ravenous undead.”

Sebastian turned and gazed at Galina Odoyevtseva Prozorova through the window. He had only known her a short while, but already he felt as if she understood him better than anyone else he’d ever known. The idea of not getting to know her more, of not being able to spend more time with her, seemed unbearable. He would protect her at any cost.

PART TWO

THE WIZARD OF GOGOLETH

“And what of magic, that most alluring, frightening, and mysterious of arts? Perhaps we are fools to think that our will shapes such power. Could it not instead be the unknowable source of magic’s power that shapes our will?”

—Pedro Molina, Raízian author of the play Tonight, We Dance, in a speech given at the Colmo College of Arts and Magic

22

Like many who traveled to Izmoroz from other countries, Jorge had taken the Advent Road that stretched north from Raíz, through the western region of Aureum, and cut up through the middle of Izmoroz to terminate at Gogoleth. The road was well traveled and scrupulously maintained by the empire, with imperial hostels placed evenly along its entire length. As such, Jorge had not actually seen much of Izmoroz during that journey.

Once Jorge had arrived at Gogoleth, his studies had kept him so busy, he had not had the opportunity to see much beyond the immediate surroundings of the city. In fact, when he’d crossed through Bear Shoulder Pass looking for foxtail, it was the farthest he’d ever gone from the city. In truth, he had not felt compelled to see more. Like most people from elsewhere, he thought of Izmoroz as comprising two things: the venerable city of Gogoleth, and the untamed and often inhospitable wilderness.

But now that he was traveling with Sonya, Jorge began to see that to know only Gogoleth was hardly to know Izmoroz at all.

They reached the small town of Vesely, a few weeks’ travel northwest of Gogoleth on horseback, when Sonya decided she could don her Ranger garb without drawing unwelcome attention. Although Jorge discovered that out there they could count on a great deal of welcome attention.

It began with the children. From the moment Jorge and Sonya led their horses onto the frozen mud roads of the village, young people began spilling out of the small, sturdy wooden homes, skipping and jumping as they followed along beside them.

“Ranger! Ranger! Will you stay with my family tonight?” asked one shrill blond girl in a bedraggled fur wrap.

“She stayed with your family last time, Tasha!” objected a boy with red hair whose voice was beginning to squeak and warble with the onset of manhood. “Ranger, you should