The Ranger and the Curse

"The harvest is weak this year."
Arin Brightblade plucked a dead leaf from a tree and grimaced. "It gets worse every year. Necroth's power is growing, and we're paying for his power."
"What can we do? None of us are strong enough to fight him, and we're simple villagers and nothing more," said Voren moving his hand through the dry wheat.
"If none of us do nothing, then in a few winters, we'll die of starvation over the winter. We'll have to move to survive," said Arin crunching the dead leaf in his hand.
"It's that damn curse, Arin."
"Yeah, it's killing us slowly, including the animals. The doe are producing offspring too weak to survive. I managed to save a few, but even the druid's power is waning."
"We can't leave out home, Brightblade. We belong here," said Voren, standing.
Arin looked over the field to the village in the distance. It thrived once, but nothing had ever been the same since the curse fell upon the land. The plants, animals, and even the people were slowly dying.
"His magic is drawing life from the land and us. It's happening so fast. The knights that tried to stop Necroth a few years ago when it happened never returned," said Arin.
"They were strong men. I can't believe they failed," Voren said.
"Me either. It's time for me to go, Voren," Arin said.
"Where to? You're always welcome here," Voren said, pointing to the village.
"I do appreciate that, but it's time for me to go on the hunt for Necroth. No longer can I stand idly by as his curse destroys our land and forests," Arin said.
"Arin, you can't. We need you here!"
"You'll be fine. The druids will help when and where they can. If I don't return, it may be best to leave this place, and it won't be fit to live off of in a year or two. Necroth will see to that."
"I pray the gods of light will guide you to victory," Voren said, his head pointed to the sky.
Arin did the same and only saw the eternal twilight sky with the seven moons of Aria casting their brilliant life upon the land. He didn't put too much faith in the gods but knew they watched intently. Arin had more confidence in his bow, which ironically was blessed by a priest.
Necroth had an insatiable thirst for power, and his curse on the land proved that. The magic he used was twisted even for necromancy. It slowly drew life from the area for the sorcerer to live longer. Arin knew he had to stop it.
Everyone was terrified of the mage, and even Arin feared the man. After the Knights of Valter never returned, the handful of adventurers that came after failed as well. Even the excellent silver dragon, Abastra, left to never return. Of course, Arin didn't expect her to help, and most dragons minded their own affairs.
"So long, Voren. Stay well and keep watch for my return in case it happens," Arin said as he walked away.
He heard the man sigh but refused to look back. Both had been friends for years, and Arin didn't want that to end, but duty called. As a ranger, his duty was to protect the land and forests. Nature cried out daily in pain, and Arin felt it deep within his soul.
Arin traveled for many days toward the Karas Mountains, where the sorcerer Necroth is said to live. The further he ventured, the more his surroundings felt dead and devoid of life. The once green trees filled with sweet birdsong now stood bare and leafless. Even the streams had dried up in a land of eternal twilight, where there was no day or night. Arin kept walking forward, determined to find the source of this blight and end it.
He reached the base of the mountains. A fortress perched atop a cliff face, jutting from the rock like a great stone beak. This had to be Necroth's lair - a place of dark magic and twisted enchantments. He took some time to rest before making his way up these heights, gathering what food he could find, but it wasn't much. His journey was one of necessity now - if he wanted to save his home from destruction, he must stop this sorcerer at all costs.
The path into the mountains was treacherous and narrow - winding around sheer cliffs and across deep chasms with little regard for safety or comfort for those brave enough to traverse its rocky surface. But as Arin pushed on determinedly, the air grew heavy with fog.
Shouldering his bow, Arrowlight, he pressed on, picking his way carefully across the treacherous landscape. Any misstep could send him to his death. While he didn't fear death, Arin wasn't ready to meet the gods so soon.
The fog got thicker, and the rocks looser as he climbed higher, his feet slipping occasionally on the slick rock. He was so focused on keeping his footing that he almost missed a small ledge just to his side, barely visible in the mist. He was about to take a wrong step that would have sent him plummeting into the chasm below. Still, luckily he managed to spot it just in time and leaped forward into safety.
He thanked whatever gods were watching for that lucky break and continued cautiously, now more aware of his surroundings. He continued until he reached a large plateau where Necroth's fortress loomed above him like an enormous stone monster ready to devour anything foolish enough to cross its path. Arin readied himself for battle and continued, determined to end Necroth's wickedness.
"It's time to meet your end, Necroth. I can only pray the gods will steady my aim and mark my arrow true."
Arin stepped forward, bow drawn and ready, but stopped when he heard a deep, rumbling laugh echoing off the rocks around him. Necroth appeared through a portal in the air, his dark eyes gleaming with power.
"You've come to challenge me? Let us see then if you are strong enough!"
The sorcerer gestured, and the ground rumbled beneath Arin's feet as it began to rise. He quickly realized that Necroth was creating platforms in midair for them to battle on.
He leaped onto one of these floating rocks as it rose into the sky and faced off against Necroth. The sorcerer's magic was powerful, but Arin had trained hard and was ready for anything that would be thrown at him. Time stood still as they clashed. Arcane energy flew toward Arin constantly, and the ranger barely dodged most of it.
Arin crouched, tired, and his breath ragged. His joints and muscles hurt from the fight, and part of him knew that if nothing happened soon, he'd suffer the same fate as others before him. The villagers needed him along with the forest, the druids, and the animals, and nature wanted Arin to save her.
"Any of you deities want to help a man out? I can't do this on my own."
Aim Arrowlight, true Ranger. The light will guide your sight and set your mark.
Arin blinked in shock. The gods had answered, and it was not up to him to fight with a faith he had never had. He reached for Arrowlight as Necroth cackled, magic swarming through the mage.
He knocked the last arrow he had left. His bow glowed with a bright luminescence that spread to the arrow. He focused on the mage's chest. He had one shot, and it had to count. Guide my arrow, please!
Arrowlight shone like a beacon as the gods imbued it with the power of nature itself, taking aim at Necroth's chest. Arin released the string he had pulled back a moment later and let Arrowlight release its deadly payload. With a triumphant cry, Arin watched as the mage crumbled to the ground, dead. Arin stumbled over and saw the shaft of his last arrow poking through Necroth's dark robes.
Slowly, the mage disintegrated to dust, and the power that kept him alive was gone. As the wind blew the remnants of Necroth away, the mage's darkness dissipated into nothingness. Arin felt peace return again to this land.
He turned and walked home. It would take a couple days, but he knew by then the druids would sense the curse had been broken. They'd start working to restore the land.
Arin grinned and knew his work here was done, but he had more to do once he returned to the village. He shouldered Arrowlight and walked home.
~ The End

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