OK, I know a lot of people were wondering after my 1st chapter why Will died. So I edited it a little to make it more clear, and now I present to you the second chapter! Hopefully this isn't as confusing.
Halt paced worriedly in front of Crowley's desk, muttering to himself, his brow furrowed in thought and worry as he considered the situation and, finally, met the gaze of the agonized warrior in front of him.
"You're going to have to find Will, Horace. Find him and bring him back here. Try to see what's taking him so long. Hopefully, nothing serious will have happened and he's just been injured." He nodded and added, almost to himself, "Yes, that has to be it. He'll probably show up in a couple of days." He looked up again at Horace and continued, "Stick to the main roads, the ones that he should be coming back on."
Horace nodded and went to go, then turned back to his unofficial, now-retired mentor. "Don't worry, Halt. I'll bring him back, safe and sound."
Halt nodded several times, his throat constricted by worry and doubt. Then he managed a hoarse whisper. "Make sure you do. I'm counting on you, Horace."
Horace saluted and strode purposefully out of the room, his stride and expression giving no sign of the racking anxiety that he felt.
Six days later, Horace arrived at the Fissure, its dismal cliffs frowning grimly down at him. He shook off the fanciful thought and dismounted, tying Kicker's reins to the sturdiest stunted tree he could find nearby, then searched for any sign of his best friend.
He hadn't gone more than ten paces when he stopped short and gasped. Blood!
Nervously, he followed the trail, fearing the worst. Again, he stopped dead, and saw a scene from his worst nightmare.
There, only two meters from the edge of the nearest cliff, lay a long-dead axman, covered with minimal armor, his weapon just out of his grasp, on his face a grotesque image of uncomprehending shock. Horace soon saw the reason why: his friend's long saxe knife, forced through the chain mail to the axman's heart.
He looked to the right, then to the left, his heart sinking as he saw more traces of the dried, dark-brown blood. They led right up to the edge of the cliff.
Horace sank to his knees. No, he thought miserably. No. Tears blurring his vision, he frantically got up and searched everywhere for any sign of his friend, but to no avail. Will was gone, lost somewhere in that horrifyingly long drop down, down, down...He cautiously walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The mist starting about five feet down was unnaturally high today, he thought, then realized that it was mostly because of the tears forming rapidly in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks no matter what he did about them.
Horace sat there for a long time, pouring out his grief, mourning the loss of his best and oldest friend. He cursed the axman who had weakened Will so much, despite the fact that he'd died in the end, for being the cause for his closest friend's death.
Some time later, he got to his feet and turned to leave when he remembered something.
"Don't worry, Will. Your death will not have been in vain. And I'll bring Tug home safe and sound, for you."
Then he set off through the stunted undergrowth, searching for Will's Ranger horse. He whistled a couple times, then called Tug's name while continuing to walk around the vicinity. Then he heard a whinny and ran towards it. He breathed a sigh in relief. The sturdy, barrel-chested pony was only too recognizable. He quietly brought Tug back to Kicker and stood for a moment between four tangled bushes, considering what to do next.
Horace decided to get Halt from Castle Araluen, even if he was now a retired Ranger. Hopefully Crowley-though he was also about to retire-could help them out as well, though he didn't see how that was possible without leaving Castle Araluen majorly less defended. Horace decided that he might as well get going. There was nothing else for him to find here, and even if there was, he wouldn't be able to do it nearly as well as even the oldest retired Ranger left alive.
He tightened the girth straps on Kicker, untied him, then wheeled his horse away from the Fissure and gently urged him into a canter, Tug following, hoping to make excellent time and be back within ten days. His heart was heavy as he remembered what he would have to tell Halt about his former apprentice...
He returned three days later, having met Halt only after one-and-a-half days' travel on the road. Apparently the Ranger had been worried enough to set out after Horace, despite the fact that he'd now been a retired Ranger for over five years. Halt was even more grim and taciturn than ever after hearing the news, and Horace couldn't blame him. To have a young man like his own son defeated at the edge of a steep cliff only because of all his wounds, after beating an extremely determined axman using only his two knives, was...Horace couldn't put it into words, it was so terrible to even think about it.
"He was a great man," Horace said as they led their horses towards the edge of that cliff.
Halt looked sidelong at him. "He was," he replied, in as few words as possible.
Horace heaved a deep sigh. "I only wish that he was alive right now. I'd gladly take his place right now. And-" he paused and looked at Halt again-"thanks for not telling his wife yet."
Halt shrugged. "You mean Alyss? It's common sense. Until I know for myself that Will is absolutely, certainly, no-way-out-of-it dead-" his tongue stumbled slightly on the last few words-"then I'm not going to spread the grief to anyone else."
"That's good then," a tired, hoarse voice called from ahead of them. "Because you won't have to."
Ooh, I think this is a good cliffy! Hehehe, now I'll leave you wondering whether Will actually died at all! Ah, I enjoy torturing readers. XD