Bloomin' heck it's been a long time. Er. I won't attempt to make any excuses, but will attempt to go ahead and fix/finish this story. I fweews awful for letting it go this long. I won't say why it's been three years. *Cryptic smile*

Horace tottered slightly as he tried to stand up, battered and bruised from his earlier beating. Actually, it had only been about a minute ago and his tormentors had long since left, but that was exactly his problem; they were after Will. He knew that, normally, Will would be able to defend himself fairly well, should one of them attack him, but Will was also a lot smaller than any of them were, and there was only one of him, as opposed to three.

Horace slowly made his way to a barrel of wooden practice swords, but nearly fell over as he tried to take one of the weapons out. He held onto the barrel to steady himself and tried again, only to wind up quite suddenly on the ground, but at least the barrel was on the ground as well. He picked up one of the swords that had fallen out and was about to start what he knew would be the slow journey to find Will, but came to a grinding standstill as a voice called from over his shoulder.

"Oi, you can't leave those there!"

Horace flinched and looked at the wooden swords scattered all over the ground, then up at the older student who had commanded him to pick them up.

"Um, look, Sir, I'm in a hurry, so can I just-?"

The older trainee crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head forward a little as he did so. "I know who you are, y'know. And I know how eager you are to train. You're really good, but you're not going anywhere until you pick up those swords."

Horace inwardly groaned as he knelt rather slowly to replace all of the swords in the barrel, stand the barrel up again, and then finally start toward Halt's cabin, but the other trainee stopped him again.

"C'mon, you clearly need to see the healer. You won't be able to do anything all stiff like a cat on bath day, don't worry though, old Levi will have you fixed up in no time."

Horace had to admit that it was nice of the student to actually make an attempt to be nice, but still tried to pull away as the older boy draped an arm around his shoulders so as to drag him to the healer.

"No, I really need to-"

The older boy shook his head. "It won't kill you to not practice for about an hour or so. You can go back to training right after; it'll be fine."

Horace hoped he could say the same for Will.

Will, for perhaps the thousandth time that day, pulled back the bowstring, took aim, and fired. At least it was his last arrow. Again. He usually didn't get bored during training, but Halt wasn't around to give him any pointers, or company, as he was up at a meeting at the castle. It made training monotonous not to have someone to talk to regardless of the fact that his attempts to chatter during training still usually earned irritated remarks from his mentor.
He had to admit, though, that he was getting used to the gray ranger. Yes, the man was taciturn, but Will was learning that the man wasn't actually the heartless monster most people thought rangers were. He may not be over fond of too many questions, but Will had realised a while back that the man's dry manner wasn't a sign of dislike.
Halt had gotten used to having an apprentice around again, too, and had 'lightened up' to a remarkable degree. His praise was sparing, and he expected the boy to work for it, but he wasn't callus. He didn't withhold that praise when it was well-deserved, and he even had a sense of humour if you knew how to look for it.

And today, there would be several holes near or in the center of each target that Will would be able to show Halt later, and that thought was something that pleased him to no end.

He lay down his bow and took a moment to stretch, the muscles in his arms somewhat tense from the repetitive pulling of the bowstring, but stopped as a small twinge went through him. He was still a little sore from the encounter with the boar, but was boyishly disappointed that it hadn't left a mark of any kind, which meant no proving to anyone that he hadn't been on the offensive instead of defensive during the fight.

Which, consequently, meant he had no way of stopping any of the ridiculous stories that had been going around about what had happened.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a voice calling to him from across the clearing.

"Does the ranger, Halt, live here?"

Will supposed that it was a Battleschool apprentice, as the boy didn't really look like he could possibly be anything else. He certainly wasn't someone who visited areas near the forest very often, or he wouldn't have brought that cane along as if he thought wild animals were just waiting to attack him.

Will nodded with a friendly smile, "Yes, Halt lives here, but he's at the castle right now." he replied.

The Battleschool apprentice shrugged, coming a little closer. "It's not him that I want to talk to. Are you his apprentice?"

Again, Will nodded. "That's me."

He was almost startled by a second voice, but then he spotted another apprentice standing just behind the first. "It's about the boar hunt."

Will sighed, smile vanishing. So that's what this was about- they wanted confirmation on another of those wild rumours that everyone seemed so fond of. He didn't really mind disappointing them. "I really didn't have anything to do with it; you should probably talk to-"

A third voice interrupted him. "We know you didn't have anything to do with it."

Will saw the third apprentice coming closer as well. It was starting to make him worry, how the three of them were talking. How close they were standing. His eyes lit on the canes each of them carried, flickering quickly back to their faces.

The first one came a bit closer. "And that's why we're here, because you make us seem foolish."

Will scowled in confusion. Something was wrong, very, terribly wrong. He could feel it, but didn't realise exactly what it was. He looked at the older boy, incredulous, "How do I make you seem-"
He never finished the sentence.

The second apprentice to have spoken suddenly tried to hit Will across the knees with his cane, but Will jumped and avoided him, only to be hit by the third apprentice, who had come up behind him.

He gave a small yelp, his shoulders stinging from the blow, and staggered forward, taking another blow from the second apprentice.

He dodged a third hit, rolling sideways and knocking the first apprentice down, but then the third apprentice hit him once more.

They surrounded him, and the world disappeared under a torrent of blows from every direction. He didn't give up that easily, and, taking a deep, steadying breath, latched onto one of the canes as it fell, curling around it and trying to get it out of its wielder's grip.
He held on tenaciously, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes tightly as the other two canes continued to fall on him. The apprentice holding the cane that he was trying to maintain a grip on began kicking him savagely sneering down at him.
And then one of the canes hit him across the elbow, followed by a crushing blow to the fingers. He saw stars, had the brief impression that he was falling, and then he was lying on his back, looking dazedly up at them.
The first apprentice' face twisted in a scowl just before his booted foot hit Will in the side with enough force to lift him up, flip him onto his belly.

Surprisingly, the blows stopped for a moment.
Will didn't move, though. He knew he should try to get up, try to fight, but he was exhausted from the effort he'd already made, and could do little aside from lie there, panting and biting back a groan of pain.

He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he could hear them talking to each other. He gave a startled yelp as one of them pulled him to his feet, pinning his arms behind his back and turning him so that he was facing the other two. He struggled madly, kicking and clawing, painfully aware that he was fully and completely dwarfed by these three knights, his head not even reaching the chin of the boy holding him.
Wait. They were supposed to be knights.
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head, unable to focus the foreign thoughts.
The boy in front of him offered a crooked grin, gesturing slowly, but wildly, and giving a low, mocking bow. "I'm Alda, by the way," he sneered, jabbing the cane hard into Will's chest, making him gasp and cough.

The other apprentice chuckled, nodding with a smug grin as he delivered two vicious blows to the apprentice ranger's stomach, in such quick succession that the lad barely had time to react to the first before the second was falling. He gagged, moaning, and would have doubled over in pain if not for the one holding him up.
"I'm Jerome," the one who had hit him giggled, lining up the cane for another blow. Will closed his eyes, realising there was nothing he could do, and leaned his head back against his captor's chest, focusing on trying to breathe.
"What…do you want?" he wheezed, but he was sure none of them heard him.
The grip on his arms tightened, and he nearly yelped at the renewed tingling ache where he'd been hit in the arm with the cane. He felt movement somewhere behind him, the tickle of hair near his brow and the static of skin near his own. What made him cringe, though, was the warmth of breath near his ear, the whisper that followed.
"And I'm Bryn. Try not to move too much, right?"
"Oi!" a blow across the chest, a blow across the shin, "Look at me, sneaker! You can't learn your lesson if you don't look at the teachers, now can you?"
Will sighed, slowly opening his eyes. For a moment, he saw two of everything and, without meaning to, pressed further back against Bryn. It was finally sinking in that he was really being attacked, that it was going to continue, that there was absolutely nothing he could do to make it stop. He realised that the pain he was already feeling…
It was nothing compared to what was going to happen.
Alda was grinning wolfishly at him, something carnal in his eyes that Will wished he didn't need to identify. He realised he'd been naïve up until this point, but now, if he lived to see it again, he'd recognise wanton bloodlust wherever it appeared.
"Now that we've been…properly…introduced," Alda shifted the cane from one hand to another, and Jerome followed his example, "We can start properly too."
Will sucked in a breath, forgot for a moment how to let it out again. "Why?" he breathed, "What did-?"
He was silenced by the look Alda was giving him. "Like we said," the older boy replied, "You made us seem foolish. Baby made us seem foolish, too. So now you have to be punished, in case you think it's okay to do it again."

Maybe Alda said more, maybe Jerome spoke as well, but Will didn't hear anything else. The blows were coming too hard, too fast, and he could think of nothing aside from pain, the building agony that was slowly, unbearably slowly, blossoming to a climax that he wasn't sure he could take.
He twisted and flailed in Bryn's grip, wondering what he was supposed to do. There was no way to escape, but that didn't stop him from trying. Desperately trying to escape. He tried so hard to bite back the yelps and screams as they beat him, but it hurt so much, and his pitiful attempts to get away from Bryn just made it worse.
He couldn't give up, though. Wouldn't give up. What would Halt say if he just let this happen without putting up a fight?

Finally, he let himself go totally limp, waiting for Bryn's grip to slacken as he stopped struggling.
When that happened, he pushed himself backward and down as hard as he could, throwing the older boy off balance-
And putting himself in the perfect position to take the cane directly in the face. Jerome, having seen what was about to happen, had slowed it down, but hadn't been able to stop the blow completely.
Will didn't see stars. He saw galaxies and exploding suns. For a heartbeat, he forgot his name and where he was, how he'd gotten there and what was happening. All of the air left his lungs in a single, gut-wrenching howl of agony even as Bryn clamped a hand over his mouth and the others shouted at him to shut up.
Thought became irrelevant.
There was only the blistering, excruciating pain and the inescapable truth that there was nothing he could do about it. Tears were streaming, and he no longer cared whether these people saw him cry, heard him scream. He didn't care what they did to him anymore. He only cared that somebody was holding him, making it worse, and that he was hurt, dying, couldn't see, aching all over. He sobbed uncontrollably, curling in on himself despite the person holding him trying to keep him upright.
He didn't see the new look Alda was giving him.
Bryn, who had gone very, very white, looked up from his position, where he'd knelt as Will had gone down under the blow. "He's had enough," he murmured, then spoke up, "Alda. No. He's had enough."
He felt sick, clammy as if with fever. His hands were shaking, his face flush with warmth that he didn't like at all. His stomach twisted as the apprentice ranger gave a keening moan, and he ran a sweaty hand through his hair. "Gods above, Alda, what have we done?"
The words had no effect, and Alda just laughed, lifting the cane for another blow.
"Alda," Bryn insisted, "Jerome. He's had enough. I think we should leave now."

Alda cast him a mocking look, lowering the cane and nudging Will with it. "Why?" he asked, gesturing with his free hand and looking genuinely confused, "Because he's being a baby and crying about it?"

Bryn shook his head, the dull throb of guilt pulsing in his veins. "No," he said, knowing what he should say next. Knowing that he should stop this from going any further, knowing that he should go to Sir Rodney, confess his sins and those of his 'friends'. Knowing….but something held him back. "It's just," he looked away, looked down, looked anywhere but at the young ranger, "We haven't…really…hurt him, have we?" he didn't bother trying to keep the hope out of his voice, "He's…overreacting, right? Face wounds hurt a lot; it doesn't mean…it may not really be serious..."

Alda didn't disguise the look. He full-on looked at Bryn like he was an idiot, but beamed immediately after. "Of course," he replied his tone all silk and reassuring, "Really, Bryn, just think of the embarrassment he's caused us. That can't go unpunished."
He moved closer to where Bryn was kneeling, stooped to pat his shoulder, lowered his voice. "And we're friends. We started this together, didn't we? Think of everything we've done. Together."

There was no mistaking the threat.
Bryn sighed, nodding several times. "You're right, Alda."
A firm nod, and Alda straightened, prowling in front of Will with a falsely musing expression. "You know," he said slowly, "If he's going to act like a baby…"

Jerome flashed a brutal grin and looked down at Will, who was still crying, but had managed to calm. The boy was still blinking, his sight painfully slow to return. There was no missing the heartbroken look that came over him as he realised that the blackness he'd been seeing wasn't just a prelude to the mercy of either falling unconscious or waking up from a nightmare.
Jerome bent to grab Will by the shoulders, hauling him mercilessly to his feet, even as the boy whined and reeled back in yet another futile effort to escape. "We'll have to treat him like one."

Bryn shut his eyes, sighing heavily and looking at the ground. He stood, moving away by several yards. He couldn't, wouldn't, be a part of this anymore. But…wasn't watching and doing nothing just as bad?
The tormented cries he heard a moment later made him flinch as he realised that it wasn't just as bad.

It was worse.

Horace had gone from being at least a little grateful that the older trainee was being friendly to absolutely resenting him. Not only had the man forced him to go through an hour of a painful process that the healer called 'massage', but had also practically begged him to engage in sparring practice. After that he'd been dragged along to demonstrate techniques and watch demonstrated techniques with a group that he found out was one of the elitist groups tha had formed within the Battleschool. It was an invitation-only group that met weekly to discuss tactics and, well, everything else, as the hour-or-more of nonstop chatter informed Horace quite thoroughly.

He spent the entire thing squirming with anxiety, but he wasn't about to tell the man why he was in such a hurry to get away; His time at the Battleschool so far hadn't taught him trust. For all he knew, this man and everyone else knew exactly what was happening, and telling would only make it worse. Alternatively, if it turned out that the three hadn't gone after Will, he could get into serious trouble for making false accusations.
But if they had….he dreaded to think.

Almost the second he finished the last drill he practically threw the sword into the nearest barrel, about to go to Halt's cabin before remembering that the three older apprentices were armed. He retrieved the sword, wishing that he had a real one, and was about to set off, when-

"Horace, there you are. I've been looking for you!"

Horace stiffened, tightly closing his eyes for a moment before opening them, turning to see Sir Rodney. He gave a distracted half-nod and a murmured, "Battlemaster, sir," in greeting. But he had to leave now, he had to-

Rodney frowned . "Forgetting something?"

Horace, realizing his mistake, snapped to attention. "Sir!"

Rodney nodded. "That's better. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me with something. Show a couple of the lads in your group how it's done."

Horace knew that, though the phrase 'I was wondering if you wouldn't mind' had been used, it wasn't a request. It was an order. He sighed quietly, inwardly hoping that the other apprentices had decided not to bother with Will. "Yes sir."

Will couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He wondered how many times he would think he was in as much pain as it was possible to feel, only to have a new anguish thrust upon him. He was horrified at how much a change of position could affect the type of pain caused by a blow. His hands were numb from being behind his back so long.

All he could do was whimper as the beating continued. He didn't understand it. Surely they should be tired by now? But he was starting to realise what this was. Every time he would think they were finally finished, that it was over at last, they'd inflict some new torture.

Taunting him all the while.
He was beyond pride, by this point. He was terrified of crying, would almost rather die than go through that punishment again. But he was so, so hurt. He was sure they'd broken something, with at least one of them practically on top of him to hold him down while the others hit him wherever they could. He'd given up trying to escape. But he couldn't help begging anymore, keeping up a steady, keening whispered mantra of,
"Please,"

Pride wasn't an object, didn't matter. After the kind of pain and humiliation they'd already put him through, he didn't care. He just wanted it over.
The worst hurt, though, was when he thought it would end. He was pleading, his voice hoarse from screaming, barely audible. He was trying so hard not to cry, but the tears were welling as he looked past his torturers, at the one who was sitting down, watching but not apparently caring. The older boy had looked back at him, had made eye contact, but there was almost no way he could hear the words as Will begged him to make it stop.
He'd seen the look that Bryn had gotten , though, had thought just for a moment that he might…
And Bryn had walked away.
He hadn't screamed so much since it had started.

Will wailed for all he was worth, ignoring Alda and Jerome's laughter. He screamed for Halt, for anyone who would hear him. He realised, though, as a sudden chill washed over him, that he didn't want Halt to come. While he desperately wanted nothing more than for his mentor to come, for anyone to come save him- because now, he realised, he wasn't above admitting that he desperately needed rescuing, after what they'd done- he also didn't want Halt to know about this. Didn't want anyone to know about this. It was painful enough, humiliating enough, without that. Especially with Halt…he didn't know if he could handle the look of disappointment that would surely come. He'd practically let them do this! What would Halt think? What would he do?
Yes, Will had been getting used to his mentor, but he didn't know him yet. There was still a faint touch of fear, even after so much time, and after enduring so much within just a few hours, it was the fear that settled in Will's mind, and he was absolutely terrified of what would happen if Halt knew what had taken place in this forest clearing.

He whimpered as he was shifted again, dreaded what was to come next. Why wouldn't it just end? Why couldn't they just kill him and be done with it? He was drunk on the pain, delirious to the point of pseudo-numbness. They hadn't been careful not to leave marks that couldn't be covered. They had hurt him beyond what could be hidden. Beyond, he thought, what could be recovered from.

He could see Alda looming in front of him, smiling that daunting smile, and drawing back to hit him again. Without thinking, he yelped, recoiling against Jerome, who was holding him up with a sadistic sort of glee. Alda hit him anyway, was going to hit him again. But he couldn't take any more, and he twisted violently in Jerome's grip, burying his face in the boy's chest with a shriek of, "NO!" as painful sobs wracked his body.

Jerome just chuckled softly, pushing Will away from him and toward Alda, who was laughing at him. It wasn't a normal laugh. It was…wrong, somehow. Alda watched patiently as Will collapsed to his knees, unable to stand without someone holding him. He couldn't look away, Alda holding Will's gaze with his own. The boy sauntered toward him, ready to begin a new attack. The same lazy smirk as before was plastered on his face, and he opened his mouth to speak to his cowering victim. However, before Alda could say anything, Bryn stepped in front of him.
"Alda," this time, Bryn sounded borderline frantic. It had gone entirely too far, and he didn't know how much further it could go before Alda killed the boy, or worse. This wasn't about revenge anymore, it was worse than that. Bryn felt sick that he'd let it continue for so long, didn't know if he could even stop it now, but he could try. Which was more than he'd done for Horace. Even if it was too late to really help anything by stopping it now…"Alda, he's had enough,"
Will slumped forward, falling against Bryn's leg, clawing weakly to stay upright the best he could, but it was a losing effort.
Bryn knew he ought to be the one on his knees, begging forgiveness and apologizing, though it would never be enough. He knew that, now, more than anything else. "Look at him," he gestured helplessly, "How can that be kept a secret? People are going to find out. He may even…" he swallowed heavily, hands curling to fists at his sides as his voice lowered. "This could kill him," he whispered.

Alda snorted derisively, brushing past Bryn and grabbing Will by his hair, dragging him several feet away before shoving him down with a pitiless force. "He hasn't had enough until I say he has," he growled, "Who's side are you on?"

Bryn shook his head, giving Will a remorseful look. "The ranger's going to know," he said calmly, "And then there's going to be hell to pay."

Now that was something Alda hadn't thought of. He gave Will a rueful glance, noting that the boy was trying, even now, to crawl away. He kicked him again, sending him sprawling. Kneeling, he turned the boy onto his back before he could stop coughing, hauling him ruthlessly up until their faces were less than an inch apart. "You tell anyone," he hissed, "anyone at all, and this is gonna happen all over again. I don't care where you are. Here, in the market, or curled up safe in your bed. It will all. happen. again. You understand me?"

Will wheezed, shuddering and clawing at Alda's wrist. At a firm shake, he nodded rapidly, mouth moving soundlessly as he tried to speak, tried to form the actual words to say he understood. But all he could do was nod repeatedly, silently grateful that it was finally over.

Alda studied him carefully for a few seconds, almost pityingly as he traced a light finger down Will's jaw, thumb rubbing in the blood trickling from the boy's mouth. He leaned closer, his forehead brushing against Will's as he spoke again. "But how do we know you'll take this seriously, hmm?" he looked up, nodded to Jerome, "I think you need a little warning, lad."

Bryn stayed where he was, frozen. He heard everything that happened, knew that Will immediately fell into hysterics upon realising his torment was to continue. But, while Bryn felt like every cry was a knife, stabbing him and twisting in his bones, he was powerless to do anything about it.
But he'd chosen to be powerless, so who could he really blame for it?

And that's where the new, improved version leaves off for the first chapter. Because of this, most of what happens is going to be thrown off by at least one chapter. Which, I'm going to try to make the rest shorter, if any of you mind this length too much. Let me know what you think, in every sense of the phrase!