Horace's Hunt, a ranger's apprentice fanfic

This is the scene from the Ruins of Gorlan during the boar hunt, except it's from Horace's point of view. Enjoy!

All characters, plot and book belong to John Flanagan, I own nothing!

Original Copy of Scene from Book (Pages 135-145)

It was midmorning by the time Halt led the hunting party to the boar's lair.

The huge animal had gone to ground in a dense clump of undergrowth deep inside the forest. Halt and Will had found the hiding place just before dark the previous evening.

Now, as they approached, Halt made a signal and the Baron and his hunters dismounted, leaving their horses in the care of one of the stable hands who had accompanied them. They covered the last few hundred meters on foot. Halt and Will were the only two who remained on horseback.

There were fifteen hunters in all, each one armed with a boar spear of the type Halt described. They spread out in a wide circle as they came closer to the boar's lair. Will was a little surprised to recognize Horace as one of the hunting group. He was the only apprentice warrior in the party. All the others were knights.

With a hundred meters to go, Halt held up his hand, signaling the hunters to stop. He urged Abelard into a gentle trot and crossed to where Will sat nervously astride Tug. The little horse was moving restlessly as he scented the presence of the boar.

"Remember," the Ranger said quietly to Will, "if you have to shoot, aim for a spot just behind the left shoulder. A clean shot to the heart will be your only chance to stop him if he's charging."

Will nodded, licking his dry lips nervously. He reached forward and comforted Tug with a quick pat on the neck. The little horse tossed his head in response to his master's touch.

"And stay close to the Baron," Halt reminded him, before moving to resume his position of most danger, accompanying the hunters who were least experienced – and therefore most likely to make a mistake. If the boar broke through the ring on his side, he would be responsible for chasing it down and killing it. He had assigned Will to stay with the Baron and the more experienced of the hunters, where there was less likely to be trouble. This placed him close to Horace as well. Sir Rodney had positioned the apprentice between himself and the Baron. After all, this was the boy's first hunt and the Battlemaster didn't want to take any undue risks. Horace was there to watch and learn. If the boar charged in their direction, he was to let the Baron or Sir Rodney take care of it.

Horace glanced up once, making eye contact with Will. There was no animosity in the look. In fact, he gave the Ranger's apprentice a strained half smile. Will realized, watching Horace lick his lips over and over again, that the other boy was every bit as nervous as he was himself.

Halt signaled again and the circle began closing in on the thicket. As the circle became smaller, Will lost sight of his teacher and the other men on the far side of the boar's lair. He knew, from Tug's continued nervousness, that the boar must be inside the bushes still. But Tug was well trained and continued to move in as his rider urged him forward.

A deep roaring sound came from inside the thicket and Will's hair stood on end. He'd never heard the cry of an angry boar before. The noise was halfway between a grunt and a scream and, for a moment, the hunters hesitated.

"He's in there all right!" called the Baron, grinning at Will with excitement. "Let's hope he comes out on our side, eh, boys?"

Will wasn't at all sure that he wanted the boar to come charging out on their side of the thicket. He thought that he'd like it very well if it went the other way.

But the Baron and Sir Rodney were both grinning like schoolboys as they readied their boar spears. They were enjoying this, just as Halt had said they would. Quickly, Will unslung his bow from across his shoulders and fitted an arrow to the string. He fingered the tip for a moment, making sure it was still razor-sharp. His throat was dry. He wasn't sure that he would be able to talk if anyone spoke to him.

The dogs plunged against their restraining leashes, setting the echoes awake in the forest with their excited baying. It was their noise that had aroused the boar. Now, as they continued to give voice, Will could hear the huge animal slashing and cutting at the trees and shrubs in its lair with its long tusks.

The Baron turned to Bert, his dog handler, and made a hand signal for the hounds to be released.

The big, powerful animals were gone almost instantly, flashing across the cleared space to the thicket and disappearing inside. They were savage, heavily built beasts, bred specifically for the purpose of hunting boar.

The noise from the thicket was indescribable. The furious baying of the dogs was joined by the blood-chilling screams of the angry boar. There was a crashing and snapping of bushes and young saplings. The very thicket seemed to shake.

Then, suddenly, the boar was in the clear.

He came out halfway around the circle, between the points where Will and Halt were stationed. With an infuriated scream, he threw off one of the dogs that still clung to him, paused a moment, then charged at the hunters with blinding speed.

The young knight directly in front of the boar's charge didn't hesitate. He dropped to one knee, bracing the butt end of his spear into the ground and presenting the gleaming point to the charging animal.

The boar had no chance to turn. His own rush carried him onto the spear head. He plunged upward, screaming in pain and fury, trying to dislodge the killing piece of steel. But the young knight held grimly to the spear, holding it firmly against the ground and giving the enraged animal no chance to throw it free.

Will watched with wide-eye alarm as the stout ash shaft of the spear bent like a bow under the weight of the boar's rush, then the carefully sharpened tip penetrated to the animal's heart, and it was all over.

With one last screaming roar, the huge boar toppled sideways and lay dead.

The matted body was almost as large as a horse's and every inch was solid muscle. The tusks, harmless now in death, curved back over his ferocious snout. They were stained with the earth that he'd ripped up in his fury, and with the blood of at least one of the dogs.

Will looked at the massive body and shuddered. If this was a wild boar, he thought, he wasn't in any hurry to see another one.

Chapter 20

The other hunters crowded around the young knight who had made the kill, congratulating him and patting his back. Baron Arald started across toward him, but paused beside Tug, looking up to Will as he spoke.

"You won't see another that size in a long time, Will," he said gruffly. "Pity he didn't come our way. I would have liked a trophy like that for myself." He continued on his way toward Sir Rodney, who was already with the group of warriors around the dead boar.

Consequently, Will found himself, for the first time in some weeks, face-to-face with Horace. There was an awkward pause, with neither boy willing to make the first move. Horace, excited by the events of the morning, his heart still pounding with the thrill of fear he'd felt when the boar first appeared, wanted to share the moment with Will. In the light of what they had just seen, their childish squabble seemed unimportant, and now he felt badly about his behavior on that day six weeks ago. But he couldn't find the words to express his feelings and he saw no encouragement to do so in Will's set features, so with a slight shrug, he started to step past Tug to go and congratulate the young hunter. As he did so, the pony stiffened and pricked his ears, giving a warning neigh.

Will looked back at the thicket and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

There, standing just outside the shelter of the bushes, was another boar - even larger than the one which now lay dead in the snow.

"Look out!" he cried as the huge beast slashed at the earth with its tusks.

It was a bad situation. The line of hunters had broken up, most of them having moved over to marvel at the size of the dead boar and to praise its killer. Only Will and Horace remained in the path of the second boar – mainly, Will realized, because Horace had hesitated for those few vital seconds.

Horace spun around at Will's shout. He looked at Will, then swung to look at the new danger. The boar lowered his head, tore at the ground again and charged. It all happened with terrifying speed. One moment the huge animal was ripping the ground with its tusks. The next, it was hurtling toward them. Placing himself between Will and the boar, Horace turned without hesitation to face it, setting his spear as Sir Rodney and the Baron had showed him.

But, as he did so, his foot slipped on an icy patch in the snow and he sprawled helplessly onto his side, the long spear falling from his grasp.

There was not a second to lose. Horace lay helpless before those murderous tusks. Will kicked his feet clear of the stirrups and dropped to the ground, sighting and drawing back the bowstring even as he did so. He knew him small bow would have no chance of stopping the boar's maddened rush. All he could hope to do was to distract the maddened animal, to turn it away from the helpless boy the ground.

He fired and instantly ran to one side, away from the fallen apprentice. He yelled at the top of his lungs and fired again.

The arrows stuck out of the boar's thick hide like needles in a pin cushion. They did it no serious harm, but the pain of them burned through the animal like a hot knife. Its red, angry eyes fastened on the small, capering figure to one side and, furiously, it swung after Will.

There was no time to fire again. Horace was safe for the moment. Now Will himself was in danger. He sprinted for the shelter of a tree and ducked behind it, just in time!

The boar's enraged charge carried it straight into the trunk of the tree. Its huge body crashed against the trunk, shakings it to its roots, sending showers of snow cascading out of its upper branches.

Amazingly, the boar seemed unaffected by the crash. It backed up a few paces and charged at Will again. The boy darted around the tree trunk again, narrowly avoiding the tusks as the boar thundered by.

Screaming in fury, the huge animal spun in its tracks, skidding in the snow, and came at him again. This time, it came more slowly, giving Will no chance to dart to one side at the last moment. The boar came at a trot, fury in its red eyes, tusks slashing from side to side, its hot breath steaming in the freezing winter air.

Behind him, Will could hear the shouts of the hunters, but he knew they'd arrive too late to help him. He nocked another arrow, knowing that he had no chance of hitting a vital spot as the pig came at him head-on.

Then there was a thud of muffled hooves on the snow and a small, shaggy shape was driving toward the furious monster.

"No, Tug!" Will screamed, in agony of fear for his horse. But the pony charged at the huge boar, spinning in his tracks and lashing out with his rear hooves as he came within range. Tug's rear hooves caught the pig in the ribs and, with all the force of the pony's upper legs behind it, sent the boar rolling sideways in the snow.

The boar was up in an instant, even more furious than before. The pony had caught him off balance, but the kick had done no serious damage. Now, the boar slashed and cut at Tug as the little pony neighed in fear and danced sideways out of the reach of those razor-sharp tusks.

"Tug! Get clear!" Will screamed again. His heart was in his throat. If those tusks caught the vulnerable tendons in the horse's lower legs, Tug would be crippled for life. He couldn't stand by and watch his horse put himself in such peril for his master. He drew and fired again and, dragging the long Ranger knife from his belt, charged across the snow at the huge, furious beast.

The third arrow struck the pig in the side. Again, he had missed a vulnerable spot and only wounded the monster. He yelled at it as he ran, screaming for Tug to get clear. The boar saw him coming, recognizing the small figure that had first driven it to such fury. It's red, hate-filled eyes fastened upon him and its head lowered for a final, killing charge.

Will saw the muscles bunch in the massive hindquarters. He was too far from cover to run. He'd have to face the charge here in the open. He dropped to one knee and, hopelessly, held out the keen-bladed Ranger knife in front of him as the boar charged. Dimly, he heard Horace's hoarse cry as the apprentice warrior charged forward to help him, his spear at the ready.

Then a deep, whistling hiss cut across the sound of the boar's hooves, followed by a solid, meaty SMACK! The boar reared up in midstride, twisting in sudden agony, and fell, dead as a stone, in the snow.

Halt's heavy-shafted, long arrow was almost buried in its side, driven there by the full power of the Ranger's mighty longbow. He'd stuck the charging monster right behind the left shoulder, driving the head of the arrow into and through the pig's massive heart.

A perfect shot.

Halt reined in Abelard in a shower of snow and hurled himself to the ground, throwing his arms around the shaking boy. Will, overcome with relief, buried his face into the rough cloth of the Ranger's cloak. He didn't want anyone to see the tears of relief that were streaming down his face.

Gently, Halt took the knife from Will's hand.

"What on earth were you hoping to do with this?" he asked.

Will simply shook his head. He couldn't speak. He felt Tug's soft muzzle butting gently against him and looked up into the big, intelligent eyes.

Then it was all noise and confusion as the hunters gathered around, marveling at the size of the second boar and slapping Will on the back for his courage. He stood among them, a small figure, ashamed still of the tears that slid down his cheeks, no matter how hard he tried to stop them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find he was looking into Horace's eyes – and the apprentice warrior was shaking his head slowly in admiration and disbelief.

"You saved my life," he said. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen."

Will tried to shrug the other boy's thanks aside, but Horace pressed on. He remembered all the times in the past when he'd teased Will, when he'd bullied him. Now, acting instinctively, the smaller boy had saved him from those murderous, slashing tusks. It said something for Horace's growing maturity that he had forgotten his own instinctive action, when he had placed himself between the charging boar and the apprentice Ranger.

"But why, Will? After all, we…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the statement, but Will somehow knew what was in his mind.

"Horace, we may have fought in the past," he said. "But I don't hate you. I never hated you."

Horace nodded once, a look of understanding coming over his face. Then he seemed to come to a decision. "I owe you my life, Will," he said in a determined voice. "I'll never forget that debt. If ever you need a friend, if ever you need help, you can call on me."

The two boys faced each other for a moment, then Horace thrust out his hand and Will took it. The circle of knights around them was silent, witnessing, but not wanting to interrupt, this important moment for the two boys. Then Baron Arald stepped forward and put his arms around them both.

"Well said, both of you!" he said heartily and the knights chorused their assent.

The Baron grinned delightedly. It had been a perfect morning, all told. A bit of excitement. Two huge boars killed. And now two of his wards forging the sort of special bond that only came from shared danger.

"We've got two fine young men here!" he said to the group at large, and again there was that hearty chorus of assent. "Halt, Rodney, you can both be proud of your apprentices!"

"Indeed we are, my lord," Sir Rodney replied. He nodded approvingly at Horace. He'd seen the way the boy had turned with hesitation to face the charge. And he approved of Horace's open offer of friendship to Will. He remembered all too well seeing them fighting on Harvest Day. It seemed such childish squabbles were behind them now and he felt a deep satisfaction that he had chosen Horace for Battleschool.

Halt, for his part, said nothing. But when Will turned to look at his mentor, the grizzled Ranger met his eye, and simply nodded.

And that, Will knew, was the equivalent of three hearty cheers from Halt.

Retold Scene

"Now, Horace, boars are fierce beasts, with tusks that can rip you apart in an instant." Horace looked up to see Sir Rodney was not joking. Sir Rodney was explaining all about the boar hunt to Horace as they traveled to the boar's lair, following Halt's lead.

"Sir, just how big are they?" Horace asked, the curiosity getting the best of him as he interrupted his Craftmaster's speech.

"Well for the one that we are hunting, Halt claims it to be close to the size of a young horse's, maybe a little larger than Will's horse over there." Horace promptly looked away from Sir Rodney at the mention of Tug; the incident on Harvest Day was not that far back in his mind and he wasn't near forgiving Will for it.

Aside from Horace himself, Sir Rodney and the Baron, there were twelve knights, the stable and dog handlers, and Halt and Will. Will being there was not surprise to Horace, he'd expected him to be there as he was the "Ranger's apprentice."

"When we get close to its hideout, we spread out in a ring around it – Will and Halt will tell us when we're near. The dogs will chase the fat pig out to us, trapped in the circle of knights as he is. Whomever the boar runs to, or should I say charges to, for the boar spear only works if they run into it," Horace nodded as Sir Rodney continued; he'd already been taught the use of a boar spear. "If they somehow managed something else and avoid the death ring around it, leave it to Will and Halt." Horace noted the trust in his master's eyes as he talked about the Rangers and Horace momentarily felt guilty about his fight with Will, but all traces of it left as he saw him riding up front next to Halt, talking all important like as they were.

"And that, Horace, is the fun of a boar hunt." Sir Rodney finished, looking directly at Horace to see if there were any questions. Seeing none, he quickened his horse's stride till he met and matched pace with the Baron, earnestly engaging in a conversation and leaving Horace thinking alone in the back of the party.

It was midmorning by the time Halt led the hunting party to the boar's lair – a den in a dense clump of undergrowth deep inside the forest.

Now, as they approached, Horace could feel the pressure of what was happening and the nervousness suddenly appeared. At a signal from Halt, Horace dismounted the horse he had borrowed from Ulf, and handed him to a stable person, just like all the other knights and the Baron – all the hunters except for Halt and Will.

All fourteen knights automatically formed a circle around the bush the boar was in, just like Sir Rodney said. Horace stepped into his spot indicated by Sir Rodney, right between him and the Baron.

With a hundred meters to go, Halt held up his hand, signaling the hunters to stop. He went over to his apprentice, while Sir Rodney whispered last minute instructions to Horace.

"Remember, don't try to go for the boar by yourself unless it is directly for you. Other than that, let me or the Baron handle it." Horace nodded furiously, his head bobbing up and down. He didn't want to fight the boar any more than necessary. He was here to watch and learn - not to make any reckless actions resolving him in heroic endings and others in danger - and he was going to do just that, just as he was told. He was acting in front of the lord of Redmont fief and his Craftsmaster, he reminded himself. One stupid action could resolve in expulsion from Battleschool – the last thing he wanted, and humiliation in front of all the fiefdom.

Halt moved back to his position – the place of most danger - accompanying the hunters who were least experienced – and therefore most likely to make a mistake. If the boar broke through the ring on his side, he would be responsible for chasing it down and killing it. He had assigned Will to stay behind the Baron and Sir Rodney, with placed him directly behind Horace. He was with the more experienced hunters, where there was less likely to be trouble.

Horace glanced up once, making eye contact with Will. The seriousness of the hunt was really beginning to settle on his shoulders. Horace tried a small smile at Will. He knew he was every bit as inexperienced as he was, and he knew Will would share his feelings. Everything about previous fights between them vanished as anxiety overtook both of them.

Halt signaled again and the circle began closing in on the thicket. As the circle became smaller, Horace lost sight of the other men on the far side of the boar's lair. Looking around, most everyone was just as tense as he was.

A deep roaring sound came from inside the thicket and Horace's heart skipped a beat. He'd never heard the cry of an angry boar before. The noise was halfway between a grunt and a scream and, for a moment, the hunters hesitated. He reran Sir Rodney's instructions in his head.

"He's in there all right!" called the Baron, looking around and grinning with excitement. "Let's hope he comes out on our side, eh, boys?"

Horace didn't get what was so exciting about the hunt. It could be life-theatingly dangerous and the Baron and Sir Rodney acted as if it all were a game as they readied their boar spears. They were clearly enjoying themselves, like this was nothing more than a morning walk.

The dogs plunged against their restraining leashes, setting the echoes awake in the forest with their excited baying. It was their noise that had aroused the boar. Now, as they continued to give voice, Horace shifted from foot to foot, anxious to get it over with but at the same time nervous for it to start as he could hear the huge animal slashing and cutting at the trees and shrubs in its lair with its long tusks.

The Baron turned to Bert, his dog handler, and made a hand signal for the hounds to be released.

Horace wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and gripped his spear tightly. He only had time to take one deep breath before suddenly, the boar jumped out of the bushes.

Horace took a step back at the sight of the boar. He was just like Sir Rodney mentioned, a little bigger than Tug and with tusks that could easily tear any one of them apart. With a thick, reddish-brown hide covering all his muscles that made up his entire body and a dangerous glint in its furious eyes, Horace hoped it wouldn't head his way.

Christopher, the young knight directly in front of the boar's charge, didn't hesitate. Horace had talked to him on their ride to the boar's lair and learned this was one of his first hunts. He had always been in the circle with the boar heading at another hunter, but now, as he dropped to one knee, bracing the butt end of his spear into the ground and presenting the gleaming point to the charging animal, Horace was amazed by the sureness of his actions, this being his first time.

The boar had no chance to turn. His own rush carried him onto the spear head. He plunged upward, screaming in pain and fury, trying to dislodge the killing piece of steel. Christopher held grimly to the spear, holding it firmly against the ground and giving the enraged animal no chance to throw it free. The stout ash shaft of the spear bent like a bow under the weight of the boar's rush, then the carefully sharpened tip penetrated to the animal's heart, and it was all over.

With one last screaming roar, the huge boar toppled sideways and lay dead.

Chapter 20

All the hunters went to congratulate Christopher, patting his back and admiring his kill. Horace, excited by the events of the morning, his heart still pounding with the thrill of fear he'd felt when the boar first appeared, wanted to share the moment with Will. In the light of what they had just seen, their childish squabble seemed unimportant, and now he felt badly about his behavior on that day, six weeks ago. But he couldn't find the words to express his feelings and he saw no encouragement to do so in Will's set features, so with a slight shrug, he started to step past Tug to go and congratulate the young hunter. As he did so, the pony stiffened and pricked his ears, giving a warning neigh.

"Look out!" Will cried a second after his horse's neigh and Horace spun around. After a quick glance at Will, Horace saw a second boar standing right outside the thicket. With the ring of hunters broken up after Christopher's kill, Will and Horace were the only ones in the path of the second boar.

The boar lowered his head, tore at the ground again and charged. It all happened with terrifying speed. One moment the huge animal was ripping the ground with its tusks. The next, it was hurtling toward them. Placing himself between Will and the boar, Horace turned without hesitation to face it, setting his spear as Sir Rodney had shown him.

In the rush of his turn, Horace's foot slipped on an icy patch in the snow and he sprawled helplessly onto his side, the long spear – his only hope of killing the large pig - falling from his grasp.

As Horace lay helpless before those murderous tusks, Will kicked his feet clear of the stirrups and dropped to the ground, sighting and drawing back the bowstring even as he did so. He fired and instantly ran to one side, away from the fallen apprentice. He yelled at the top of his lungs and fired again.

Horace watched, transfixed by the horror happening right in front of him, with nothing he could do to help. Horace himself was safe – and only because of Will but now Will himself was in danger.

Will sprinted for the shelter of a tree and ducked behind it, just in time! The boar's enraged charge carried it straight into the trunk of the tree. Its huge body crashed against the trunk, shakings it to its roots, sending showers of snow cascading out of its upper branches. Amazingly, the boar seemed unaffected by the crash. It backed up a few paces and charged at Will again. The boy darted around the tree trunk again, narrowly avoiding the tusks as the boar thundered by. Screaming in fury, the huge animal spun in its tracks, skidding in the snow, and came at him again. This time, it came more slowly, giving Will no chance to dart to one side at the last moment. The boar came at a trot, fury in its red eyes, tusks slashing from side to side, its hot breath steaming in the freezing winter air.

Other hunters had gathered next to Horace, watching helplessly. There was nothing they could do to help.

There was a thud of muffled hooves on the snow and a small, shaggy shape was driving toward the furious monster. "No, Tug!" Will screamed, in but the pony charged at the huge boar, spinning in his tracks and lashing out with his rear hooves as he came within range. Tug's rear hooves caught the pig in the ribs and, with all the force of the pony's upper legs behind it, sent the boar rolling sideways in the snow.

"Tug! Get clear!" Will screamed again. He drew and fired again and, dragging the long Ranger knife from his belt, charged across the snow at the huge, furious beast.

Horace had watched Will fight and regaining his balance from the fall, he charged toward Will, boar spear in hand.

A perfect shot.

Then it was all noise and confusion as the hunters gathered around, marveling at the size of the second boar and slapping Will on the back for his courage. Horace walked toward Will, the awe still clear in his eyes. Horace put his hand on Will's shoulder and Will turned to stare into Horace's eyes. Horace just couldn't believe what the apprentice ranger had done.

"You saved my life," he said, shaking his head slowly in admiration and disbelief. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen – and that anyone's ever done to me."

Horace felt the full force of guilt from every past thing he'd ever done to Will. All those times he'd teased Will, bullied him. Now, acting instinctively, the smaller boy had saved him from those murderous, slashing tusks. It said something for Horace's growing maturity that he had forgotten his own instinctive action, when he had placed himself between the charging boar and the apprentice Ranger.

"But why, Will? After all, we…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the statement, but Will somehow knew what was in his mind.

"Horace, we may have fought in the past," he said. "But I don't hate you. I never hated you."

"Well said, both of you!" he said heartily and the knights chorused their assent.

"We've got two fine young men here!" he said to the group at large, and again there was that hearty chorus of assent. "Halt, Rodney, you can both be proud of your apprentices!"

Horace smiled inwardly at the praise from his master; things were really looking up, aside from Bryn, Alda, and Jeremone.