Who knew they had internet here? And that I would have so much left over time in the car?

This chapter gets a little bit darker than the others have been. This is also consequentially when the real story line starts! Hm, the two aren't related, are they? ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentices

Halt sipped his coffee contentedly in his favorite chair by the fire. Will was completely healed from the sickness that using the seventh Power had caused and was currently retrieving the whetstone he'd lost in his room. Halt's side still stung, mostly from the herbs he was using to heal it, though he supposed that was the best he could expect after nearly being disemboweled by a fireball. As a whole, however, the effects of the incident with the seventh Power were mostly over with—though not by any means forgotten. Halt couldn't help worrying about his apprentice's use of the Power of life, despite the fact that he'd sworn not to use it again. His greatest fear now for the matter was that Will, with his loyalty and bravery, would use it again and risk his own life if it had even a chance of saving Halt in a bad situation. Halt didn't want that—not for Will, not for any apprentice under his care.

The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. Halt's sharply honed sixth sense told him that something wasn't right.

He spun instantly towards the door of the cabin, spilling his coffee as he scooped up his longbow and nocked an arrow. The door was open. He hadn't heard the intentionally rusted hinges move when this anonymous enemy had entered—that couldn't be good. And while he was searching for something wrong, he felt it as well. The air around him was strangely thick, almost muting his hearing. He turned quickly, looking, but never finished the entire circle. A sudden burst of absolute, spontaneous weakness hit him as a physical blow. He didn't even have a chance of finding the strength to bring his bow to full draw. A moment later he had weakened further and his knees gave way beneath him.

He simply lay there like some dead animal, stomach down on the floor of the cabin. His cheek was pressed against the rough wooden slats as he concentrated on breathing. It seemed to be all he was capable of with his diminished strength. He barely registered the footsteps coming toward him, no longer muted by the manipulation of the Power of air. The footsteps stopped as the person stood beside him.

"My, my," they said. "I had been told that a Ranger might be a challenge. Honestly, I hoped subduing you would actually be a bit of a struggle. Has the Ranger Corps gotten sloppy?"

Halt would have been having a hard time keeping calm at the stranger's obvious contempt if he had been able to do much more than breathe. Even as it was, however, one fact cut through the haze and made the Ranger's blood run cold: this man had used the Power of air and he was obviously not in the Ranger Corps. And, considering how suddenly weak Halt was, he could also use the seventh Power—and would dare to use on it on a Ranger.

The man kicked Halt in the side, luckily not his injured one, to roll him onto his back. Halt couldn't resist. He examined his attacker's face. He had straight blond hair that nearly came to his shoulders. His mouth was tight and hard and the cobalt eyes were cruel. This man had an obvious air of vengefulness, presumably against Rangers.

He knelt beside the Ranger and unsheathed a knife and brought it towards Halt. The grizzled Ranger felt a flash of something that took him a moment to recognize. It was fear. But the stranger merely cut the strap of Halt's quiver and removed it from his person. He also took the knives from Halt's belt and laid them on the chair near him. Apparently the man had previous knowledge of Ranger weaponry, for he didn't hesitate a moment before taking the strikers as well. Halt, despite the desperate circumstances, couldn't help feeling distinctly humiliated at being brought down and disarmed without so much as a feeble struggle.

Then the worst possible thing that could happen, did.

Will walked into the room.

"Hey, Halt, I finally found my—" He cut off instantly as he took in the scene before him. Halt on the floor, disarmed by an enemy, that same enemy kneeling over Halt. Then the confusion came. Will knew he wasn't deaf; how had he missed the commotion?

Halt forced himself to find the necessary strength to warn his apprentice. "Will…run," he said as forcefully as he could. Unfortunately, it wasn't anywhere near enough to discourage Will.

"Who are you?" he asked the stranger brazenly. "What are you doing here?"

The blond stranger smiled. "My name is Darian. The only reason I'm here is because I was ordered to be. Generally I try to go for a mission with a bit more a challenge." He eyed Halt and nudged him with his foot. "This was far too simple. The Power of earth to get rid of the rust on the hinges—I'm guessing that was there on purpose to alert you—the Power of air to mute the sounds I might make, and the seventh Power to neutralize the target. How much easier can it get?"

Will swallowed. This man could use the Powers, even the seventh one. And he was the enemy. Though maybe if Will acted quickly enough…

Will yanked his throwing knife out of its sheath, grateful that he hadn't yet removed the sheath from his belt, and moved to throw it at Darian. He looked amused as Will felt the same crippling weakness that Halt had experienced only a short time before. The knife and the boy both fell to the ground, one clattering and the other making a dull thud. Will would have cried out, but lacked the strength. He recognized the feeling from when he had tried to balance out his and Halt's life forces a little under two weeks before. Part of his life had just been taken from him.

Damian crossed the room to the fallen boy. He checked around his neck and found what he was looking for. A thin chain supporting a bronze Oakleaf. He ripped the pendant from Will's neck and tossed it to the side.

"I highly doubt you'll be needing that anymore," he said snidely. "Last I heard, they didn't allow corpses to be apprentices."

"Don't you dare," Halt snarled. "If you hurt him I'll—"

Darian sighed, sarcastically patient. "That's the problem. You can't do anything. I'm in control here. I'm supposed to be bringing a Ranger back to my master's base, not a scrawny boy. And I can't very well leave any witnesses, now, can I?" He chuckled darkly. "Plus, this is bringing a chance I didn't expect: break the Ranger who's caused those I sympathize with so much grief. I didn't think there would be anything to make you crack, Halt, but your apprentice here brings a delicious opportunity." He smirked with something like sick enjoyment flickering in his eyes.

"No!" Halt was surprised to feel some strength return to his limbs. He lunged for the knife that Darian had placed on the chair foolishly close to Halt. He tried to spin around and throw, but once again his strength was drained. Darian lazily walked over and plucked the knife from Halt's hand. Halt realized with a furious pang of helplessness that Darian was toying with him.

"It's so very amusing to watch people struggle toward something that they can't control," he sneered. "Just like this. Your apprentice is going to die, but I'm still debating whether it will be by this knife or by getting his life drained. Any preferences, Will?" he teased.

Will was barely conscious. Darian was pulling on his life more than he was on Halt's at the moment. The boy was far paler than he should have been at any given time and Halt doubted that he had even heard the mocking question. It seemed even less likely that he would answer; not surprisingly, he didn't.

"Please, don't," Halt said, hating to beg to this despicable person but willing to for the boy that had brought a new kind of light to his life in the past year. "Kill me, but don't hurt the boy."

Darian grinned slightly, this comment causing as much amusement as the ones before apparently had. "I'd kill both of you gladly, but I need you alive. The boy, however…" He let the ominous sentence hang in the air as he knelt by Will's limp form and brushed the hair away from his face with the point of the knife, not breaking the skin. Pausing, he contemplated for a moment, then tossed the knife aside.

"I'll just drain him," he decided, enjoying the panic that flooded the Ranger's eyes. "I may need the extra bit of life later, after all. I'll be picking up quite a few Rangers and I've heard you're a feisty bunch. Though if they're all pushovers like you than Will's life force probably won't be necessary. Pays to be careful, though," he smirked, walking over to where Will lay with his eyes closed.

Darian stared at Will for a moment, then the boy suddenly jerked awake, bolting up into a sitting position. He looked around in confusion. "What—" his eyes landed on Darian and he seemed to remember. "Oh," he said softly, his tone saturated with fear.

Darian grinned evilly, putting his foot on Will's chest and shoving him back down. "Any last words before you die, Will?"

The apprentice's eyes slid toward his mentor. Their eyes met. I'm sorry, Will, Halt mouthed.

"Halt," Will whispered. "It's not your fault." He didn't want his mentor to feel guilty for what he couldn't control. As he spoke, however, he couldn't keep the terror and fear of death from his voice, despite him trying, and it pained his mentor to hear it.

Darian rolled his eyes in disgust. "The sappy Ranger way of saying you're giving up. Which you're right to, of course." He glanced back at Will, looking almost bored, and Will's eyes slid closed, his entire body going instantly limp.

"No! Will, no!" Halt yelled it as loud as he could in his weakened state. It just didn't seem real. Will was his apprentice. This was just a normal day of training and he'd fallen asleep to a nightmare, it must just be that. Will wasn't dead. He just couldn't be.

Darian pulled just enough life out of Halt that he would become unconscious. While Darian considered it fun to watch the taciturn man's distress, he would make transport difficult if he were awake. He walked over to the door and opened it, the hinges still making no sound as he had removed the rust.

"Men." He didn't have to say it loud; the group assigned to him would be within easy earshot. Five of his twenty came over. There wasn't a need to have twenty men with Darian for only one Ranger; instead, they would be abducting several of them.

Darian ordered one of them to pick up the unconscious Ranger and tie him up. While Darian watched, another man came up to him.

"Sir, what about the boy?"

Darian glanced over carelessly to see who he was talking about. His eyes lighted on Will's body and his lips twitched into a smile once more. "That is just a corpse," he told the soldier. "We'll leave him to burn with the house." The man nodded, unquestioning.

They tied Halt to a horse and prepared to move out. Darian sent them marching ahead of them and, trained in absolute obedience as they were, the soldiers followed their orders.

Darian stared at the quaint little home for a while longer. A mere cabin, with only two bedrooms, a washroom, a kitchen, and a living room. There also seemed to be a stable out back for the horses. Darian wasn't admiring the small home. Instead, he sparked, then blew a puff of air at the flame. Instead of going out, it zoomed directly toward the spot of especially dry wood that he thought would burn rather well.

The wood caught fire.

Repeating the action a dozen more times, Darian smiled slightly at the potential blazing inferno before him. The body would burn as well in the fire, and none would know that the apprentice was dead. They would probably figure out that Halt had been captured or something of the sort, but that didn't worry Darian at all. He heard whinnying. He closed his eyes briefly in irritation. The Ranger horses were still in the stables.

Then he sighed and mentally shrugged. Why should he care about a few furry mounts? Their masters were already beyond saving. Why shouldn't they be too? He turned and walked to his own horse while contemplating which fief they would hit next on their quest for captive Rangers.


The body appeared suddenly, materializing straight out of the wood on the floor of the burning house. It was male, with medium-long brown hair and a warrior's bulk. He opened his eyes and they were brown.

Quickly, he rose, knowing he had to complete his task fast to avoid the hungry tongues of fire. He reached the un-breathing corpse of the boy he was searching for. Will. He automatically brushed the hair out of the boy's eyes, but he had to force himself not to recoil as his own warm fingers brushed the ominously cool forehead. He won't be cool for long if I don't get him out of this burning building, he thought. He hoisted the corpse into his arms. Lucky for him, it was light. Glancing around frantically, he looked for a way out, knowing he couldn't go the same way he'd come in. His eyes landed on a window.

Without so much as a second thought, the man jumped and hit the window with his shoulder, shattering the glass. He tumbled onto the forest floor outside the cabin and got to his feet. Adjusting the way he was holding Will, he carried the body to an indentation in the ground at the foot of a tree, near the roots. He left no footsteps behind him.

The man suppressed a curse when he saw that the hole wasn't big enough for the body. Moving briskly, he knelt and reached for the Power of earth, making the dirt less dense and not as firmly packed. The reduced density of the dirt made it much easier to shovel the soil with his hands to make the hole bigger.

Carefully, he put Will's lifeless corpse into the hole. It almost looked like he was being laid in a shallow grave, but that was not the purpose of this. The purpose was to hide him. The man spread dead leaves, pine needles, a few branches and dirt over the body. The kind of things that would not be out of place on the forest floor.

He looked at the spot for a moment, memorizing exactly where the corpse was buried. He didn't cry, even though he cared for the boy. He stared for what seemed like eternity but was only a few seconds at where Will's head rested under the debris.

He stood there motionless, then listened as he heard something. His eyes widened as he realized it was the frantic neighs of the two Ranger horses. He'd forgotten that they were still inside the stables.

The man raced back towards the Ranger's burning cabin, opening the door to the stables with a bang. Both mounts, one a horse and one a pony, looked toward him with what he could have sworn was relief. He whistled to them, and they obediently bolted out of the burning structure. He ran out after them. Gripping both of their reigns, he firmly led them toward where he'd put Will. While the pony, which he assumed was Will's horse, followed willingly, the larger horse strained toward where Halt had been taken. The man struggled to remember the words that would make the horse obey him.

"Permetez moi," he said into the horse's ear. He stopped straining and followed him.

As they walked back to the place he had laid Will, the man made sure to blot out their tracks using the Power of earth. It was quite handy when it came to things like this—pity the Rangers didn't use it much. The pony stepped straight up to the exact spot where the debris covered Will, nose to the ground. The pony stopped and lifted his head high, letting out a shrill, piercing whinny and announcing his grief for his master to the world.

The man nearly had a heart attack. "Shut up!" he growled, but the pony paid him no heed. He walked forward and whispered in the animal's ear, "Will you allow me? Silent!"

The pony obeyed only because of the pass phrase, looking somewhat disgruntled. The man blinked. These Ranger horses were intelligent, he knew, but this wasn't what he had expected. He turned toward the horse, Halt's mount. "Silent." He thanked his lucky stars that the horses were well trained. Under the silent command, they would stay quiet and freeze if anyone came near.

He knelt in the dirt beside where he had hastily covered Will's body. He was glad he didn't have to look at the corpse itself; he'd always hated the waxy pallor of dead people. Which was ironic, when he thought about it; he tried not to at times like this. He placed his hands above where his face would be and looked down in sadness for a moment.

"When a hero falls is when a hero rises," he whispered to the corpse. "Araluen still has hope yet."

He rose and walked a short distance away and sat with his back against the trunk of a tree. His mission was finished. He relaxed and let the life flow out of his body. He slumped, lifeless, against the rough bark.

*sniffle sniffle* Aww... I can't believe I just did that. I killed off Willers... It makes me feel so mean... But I really had to do it! Or else I wouldn't have!

Review please!

-Rydd Rider