A/N: Takes place... I'm not quite sure when, actually. All I know is that Will is still Halt's apprentice at this time, and it's after Oakleaf Bearers. Considerably darker than my other RA fics, just to warn you. As always, please tell me if I'm doing anything wrong.
.:':. .:':. .:':.
"What is it, Halt?" Will asked, peering over his mentor's shoulder at the letter he was holding.
Halt gave Will a gentle shove. "Official Ranger business. Get off."
Will rolled his eyes. "I'm almost a Ranger myself now, you know. Come on, let me have a look. Please?"
His expression softened, but only slightly. "Fine. this is an urgent missive from Crowley. Just let me finish it, then you can have a read."
Halt's frown grew deeper and deeper as he read on. Once finished, he handed the piece of paper over to Will, shaking his head. "Seems there are bad happenings in the east. Crowley wants me to investigate." Will noticed that he said me, not us.
"I'm not coming with you?"
"No."
"But why not?"
"Crowley stressed that it was a solo mission."
Will sighed. There would be no changing Halt's mind, he knew. "When do you leave?"
"Read the letter," Halt replied, moving off to pack some supplies for his journey. Will's sharp eyes didn't miss that there had been a second slip of paper in the envelope that he had taken with him.
He frowned and turned back to the sheet of paper in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the familiar oakleaf insignia.
Ranger Halt of Redmont Fief,
A matter of great urgency has arisen in the east. The before relatively small country of Rolingan has been expanding and conquering neighbouring lands at such a rate that we fear for Araluen. A count of more than thirty eastern countries have officially become part of Rolingan through means of conquest, and King Magnus of Rolingan seems to be moving his way inexorably west. Requesting that you immediately investigate as to whether he will be advancing towards Araluen. This is to be a solo mission; Will must stay behind to guard your fief. No exceptions. He is qualified to do so. I expect you will return to Araluen in about three months.
Yours ever faithfully,
Ranger Corps Commandant Crowley
Sighing, Will set the letter down on the table. Whoever this King is, he must pose some threat, he thought. He had never seen Crowley write something so brisk before, and that was saying something. He walked into Halt's room. "Need any help?"
"Sure. Might as well make yourself useful."
Will returned to the kitchen and dug up some long-term supplies. He gathered as many as he could in his arms and returned to Halt's room, dumped them on the bed and started to stow them in the supply pack. Halt grimaced at the shapeless twists of meat disappearing into his pack. "I miss proper meals already."
"Are you sure I can't come with you?"
Halt shook his head firmly. "You read the letter. Crowley specifically said you were to stay behind. We can't leave Redmont unprotected for three months without notice."
"Goodbye, Halt."
"Goodbye, Will. I'll see you again in about three months. Give Pauline my love," he said, blushing slightly. He patted his apprentice on the back, shouldered his bags and left.
.:':. .:':. .:':.
It seemed as if even nature didn't want him to leave, that it wanted him to stay in the safety of his home. Rain lashed at him and the wind howled in his face, sending the freezing drops biting into any piece of exposed flesh. Abelard's eyes were almost completely closed, the rain kept out only by his long lashes.
Finally, they reached a small copse. The wind slackened noticeably amongst the trees and the pelting rain, now deflected by the leaves, twigs and branches, dripped steadily on his head rather than whipping at him. "Really is quite miserable, isn't it?" he murmured to his horse, who harrumphed in reply. "At least it's a little better under the trees. And we can say we've had worse, haven't we? My stomach's already queasy at the mere thought of going on a ship."
The raindrops were still falling when they cleared the main forest late in the evening, reaching a rocky expanse of land that wound its way to the sea. Halt was soaked through, teeth chattering with the cold. Abelard looked nearly as miserable, his mane, tail and coat drenched. "Looks like we'll have to find a cave of sorts if we want to be warm tonight, eh?" Halt forced the words through clenched teeth, trying to stop their insistent rattling. "Get a fire going, and stay out of the rain."
Hours later and they were much in the same predicament. Halt's hands, nose and ears had just about lost all feeling, and water was starting to leak through his shoes. If it weren't for the protective cap screwed on over the top, his quiver would have been overflowing. Surely there should've been a cave that can fit me and Abelard by now, he thought wearily.
Like an echo to his thoughts, they suddenly stumbled upon an opening in a large rock, which opened up into a spacious cavern, easily able to house both horse and rider. Thankfully, Halt slid out of the saddle and opened one of the packs, pulling out enough for a quick meal and a small fire.
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The rain slowed during the night, and petered to a stop just before dawn.
He woke slowly, stretching the muscles in his back with a groan. Abelard looked at him sleepily from the other side of the dead fire as he stood, stumbling slightly as he groped for the saddlebags. Blearily, he dug through them, grabbing the coffee tin, a mug, a pan, a waterskin and some dry twigs to build a fire with. He almost fell asleep several times as he arranged the sticks in the cold fireplace, but he finally got a little blaze going. All but missing the pan entirely, he poured enough water into the pan to make at least two cups of coffee and set it in the fire, nearly dozing off a number of times as he waited for the water to boil. Finally the water started to bubble, and he quickly made a mug of coffee, downing half of it in one gulp.
Halt was not a morning person.
Finishing the first cupful in about three seconds, he quickly filled the mug before downing the caffeinated beverage again. Now thoroughly awake, Halt doused the fire, packed the saddlebags and swung onto Abelard's back, settling in for another long day in the saddle.
.:':. .:':. .:':.
It took him another two days to reach the seaside, and just the scent of the salt in the air had his stomach churning. He wasted no time bartering passage aboard a vessel bound for the opposite coast, in the mindset that he might as well get it over and done with. The captain of the Skyline Gypsy was more than happy to oblige the Ranger, chuckling as Halt turned slightly green as he boarded the ship. He immediately made his way to the railing, fully intent on staying there for the rest of the journey.
Hours passed, and Halt didn't move. He just moaned occasionally, hanging loosely over the rails of the ship.
"You gonna be there all day?" the captain asked him cheerfully.
The queasy Ranger glared at him, the effect marred by the green pallor of his face. Grinning, the captain held up his hands defensively and returned to the helm. "What is it with you sailors and finding such amusement in my suffering?" Halt muttered to himself before going an even more noticeable shade of green and emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of the ship. He wiped his arm on his sleeve, sighing quietly and settling back into his drooped position over the rails.
He was almost ready to kiss dry land when they finally drew into port. Forcing a thank you to the captain and his crew, he only waited for them to unload Abelard from the ship before setting off once again.
Several weeks of hard riding passed before the Rolingan castle finally came into view. Halt could barely keep his seat on the saddle from stiffness, and the foreboding sight of the towering black fortress was nearly enough to knock him off. He found an inn to stay for the night and settled himself in for a good night's rest. Tomorrow, he would scale the walls of Rolingan castle.
Daylight came and went, and he quietly slipped out of the inn, flipping a few bronze coins to the stableboy when he retrieved Abelard. It took him all of ten minutes to make his way to the castle, leaving Abelard in the shade of a small alleyway. He scaled the wall with ease, the giant black stone slabs that sat loosely on top of the others leaving numerous handholds and footholds for him to use.
It was almost painfully easy for him to sneak into the King's study, clambering in through an open window. Firelight flickered in the heath, showing that the room was soon to be in use. He silently moved into the shadows opposite the large desk that dominated the room, settling himself in.
He didn't have to wait long.
The door swung open, and the King of Rolingan strode in, taking his seat behind the giant desk. "King Magnus of Rolingan," Halt said quietly, stepping out of the shadows.
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A/N: I know the letter from Crowley probably seems a bit off, but I'm horrible at writing formal documents. DX
-pixie.