Long time, no update, I know… I'm very sorry. Hopefully this good, long chapter is worth your while. We're reaching the climax of this tale. I will tell you this… Merkhliné's defeat is not far away, however our characters' problems will be far from rectified…

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing

Anyho, ON WITH THE FIC!

In the final year of Gilan's apprenticeship, one particular mission had called for him to disguise himself as an adviser to one of Morgarath's remaining supporters. This resulted in him spending a week in Castle Araluen's dungeons until Halt worked out where he was and managed to get him out. Back then, each prisoner had his or her own completely private cell, but were allowed in a common room for the majority of the day. Each cell had contained a bed and a small table. The prisoners were provided three decent meals each day and three raging fires kept the dungeons warm.

The castle dungeons were still in rather good condition, but it was clear Queen Merkhliné had no intention of keeping them that way. All furniture had been removed from the cells, and the prison guards seemed to be competing to see how many prisoners they could fit in each cell. The only fire that still remained alight was in the common room, away from the cells, which had become the guards' lounge room. And although he had only been in the cell a couple of hours, Gilan was fairly sure the food wouldn't be too good, judging from the fact his cell mates were on the brink of starvation.

Gilan leaned back against the cold wall. Bryn had been flung into a cell on the other end of the corridor, and Gilan vaguely wondered how many people were in that. One figure lay crumpled in the corner, and another man knelt at his side, with his back to Gilan, as he had been since Gilan arrived. Gilan recognized the muscled torso as being that of a knight, but he was yet to see his face. Gilan vaguely recognized the six other people in the cell, all advisers and supporters of King Duncan, who had acknowledged him as being a King's Ranger, but not really paid him any attention.

Sighing, Gilan got to his feet. He might as well do something useful. He moved to the corner, gently kneeling at the unconscious man's side. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

The knight glanced upwards, and Gilan gasped in recognition. "Horace!" he exclaimed. "How are you?"

Horace smiled grimly. There was a nasty gash on the side of his head, and his arms were bruised and battered. "I've been better," he replied. "And you, Gil?"

"Likewise," said Gilan, glancing over the figure between him. He started, in shock. He hadn't seen it at first, with the crumpled, peasant's clothing and the bloodied hair, but the high cheekbones and worn down features were unmistakably those of King Duncan. "What happened?"

Horace shrugged. "How much do you know already?"

"More than you, probably," replied Gilan. "For one thing, I know that Will and Evanlyn are Merkhliné's captives. I'm also told that Merkhliné's chief adviser is a man named Jerome, who I understand you're familiar with."

Horace paused, as what he was being told dawned on him. "Are Will and Evanlyn alive?"

"As far as I know," replied Gilan. "Who else is down here?"

"Crowley was arrested at the same time I was," sighed Horace, "but other than those in this cell, I wouldn't have a clue. I just hope… You haven't seen Halt by any chance, have you?"

"I saw him, just before I was arrested," replied Gilan. "He's safe."

"Good." Horace's shoulders relaxed. "Tell me… is Merkhliné… who she claims to be?"

Gilan leaned back against the wall. "In terms of her identity, yes, but she's got nothing to do with Le Service Diplomatique du Gallica."

"Yes, well, I already knew that," muttered Horace. Gilan raised his eyebrows in questioning. "When she first came after Evanlyn went AWOL, Halt, Crowley and I were a little suspicious. I went to Gallica for a few days, and found they had no knowledge of an ambassador by the name of Merkhliné in Araluen. When I got back, the King had disappeared."

Gilan nodded, and stared in silence at the King's crumpled form. A moment later, the King's eyes began to flicker open. "Cassie," he groaned. "Is she safe?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty," replied Gilan gravely.

The King sat bolt upright, in a way that reminded Horace oddly of Bryn's reaction, when he woke to the memory of what had happened to his own daughter. "Gilan, Horace," he said. "Nice to see you both, but what in Gorlog's name happened?"

Gilan smiled despite himself, recognizing the Skandian term which Halt was rather fond of, but his smile quickly dropped as he and Horace began to explain all that had happened to King Duncan. The King nodded, and listened in silence. Finally, they broke off, leaving the King to his own thoughts.

"Tragic, isn't it?" sighed King Duncan. "But the tale is not yet complete." He gave a shaky laugh. "Aren't I poetic? But, Gilan, I am a little concerned about something…"

"Yes?" asked Gilan.

"You can't fully recover from a serious head wound in three weeks." Duncan replied.

Horace's brow furrowed. "Yes, that's a good point, Gil. Are you sure…"

Now that it was mentioned, Gilan had been feeling quite light-headed, but he put it down to the lack of water he had drunk in the past few days. "It still hurts a little," he confessed, "but it's okay."

King Duncan ruefully inspected the wound. "If you say so. Halt is still on the outside, you said."

"He is. He'll think of something." Gilan replied.

Horace slumped back against the wall. "I'm hungry," he moaned.


The mud squelched beneath them, as Halt, Will and Evanlyn eased their way into the small tunnel. Evanlyn went first, climbing into the tiny tube. A cold hand clenched her heart as she was enveloped in darkness. Dimly, she was aware of Will and Halt clambering in behind her. She felt the cold mud seep through her skirt, and she began to sludge forward.

Will forced a chuckle. "Well, this tunnel isn't in brilliant condition."

"It hasn't been used in hundreds of years," replied Evanlyn. "Besides, we can't have it maintained, as that would involve revealing the secret. No-one outside the royal family knows about these tunnels."

"The royal family, plus two," Will reminded her.

"True," said Evanlyn.

"Well, that's all well and good, so long as this tunnel doesn't cave in on us," Halt snorted.

Will gave a shaky laugh. "Oh, come on, Halt. These tunnels are too strong for that. Aren't they, Evanlyn?"

Evanlyn's silence was deafening.


As the tunnel wore on, the mud got thicker. The tunnel seemed to be getting darker by the minute, although they had passed the point of pitch black ten minutes ago.

Will continued through the sludge, no longer paying attention to Evanlyn before him or Halt behind him. Something above him was dripping, and he felt cool liquid trickle down his spine. Something flew into his eye, and he blinked rapidly to get it out, remembering with a split second to spare not to use his hand to wipe his eye. After a moment, he realized he may as well keep his eyes closed, he couldn't see anything anyway.

"How much longer, Evanlyn?" he croaked. Pure silence greeted him. A shiver ran down Will's spine. "Evanlyn?" he called again. "Halt?" Silence. He was on his own. But he had been between Halt and Evanlyn before, and it was illogical to suppose that they had just fallen so far apart. Unless… Evanlyn had mentioned a point where the tunnel branched into two. She knew one went to the dungeons, but didn't know where the other led.

Tentatively, Will tried to turn around, but found the tunnel was too narrow. Besides, how would he know where to turn when the tunnel branched again? He decided to take his chances. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and kept going.


After what seemed like a week, a dim light began to shine through the end of the tunnel, and Evanlyn released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She reached out, feeling the air in front of her, until her hand landed on a small doorhandle. "We're here," she said. She heard Halt coughing and sputtering something, but she ignored him. Gently, she turned the doorknob in the combination that her father had told her. The trapdoor creaked open, spraying her face with dust. Sighing, she emerged out into the light. After a second, Halt followed her, fuming.

Evanlyn's heart leapt to her throat. "Where's Will?"

Halt shook his head. "That's what I was trying to tell you before. I don't know. Are you sure you don't remember where the other tunnel led?"

Evanlyn's eyes widened. "You don't think…"

"Well, he certainly didn't stop for a coffee break," grunted Halt, "although that's a very good idea."

"He doesn't know the combination," said Evanlyn. "I don't know the combination for that tunnel."

"He'll be fine," said Halt, gruffly. "Aren't you going to deal with the guards?"

Evanlyn nodded, accepting the water-bottle Halt offered. She washed her face and brushed the dirt from her hair. Halt drew a small package from his cloak, handing it to Evanlyn, who then turned on her heel and strode into the dungeon corridor. Halt drew his cowl over his face and followed, moving unseen through the shadows.

Evanlyn frowned, as she glanced about herself. There were meant to be guards in this corridor. Then she heard laughter from what used to be the prisoners' common room. She plastered a suggestive smile upon her face, and minced daintily into the room.

The fire roared, and five laughing guards reclined around it, seven empty bottles between them. "Hello, boys," purred Evanlyn, flicking her hair flirtatiously.

Briefly, Halt was concerned Evanlyn would do her job a little too well, and that the guards would take advantage of her, but then relaxed. She had enough good judgement to handle herself. Nevertheless, he snuck a little further into the room, his hand lightly touching his Saxe Knife.

The guards began to whistle, and Evanlyn continued to walk daintily into the room, and opened the package. "Hey guys. You want some cookies?"

"Bring them here," one guard called rudely.

"Come sit with me," a second guard called jovially. "There's plenty of room for a pretty lass like you."

Evanlyn blushed, twirling her hair. She went to sit beside the second guard, offering around the cookies. In seconds, all the guards were asleep. Halt stepped out of the shadows.

"How did I do?" asked Evanlyn.

Halt snorted. "The guards are unconscious, and they'll stay that way for the next six hours, at least, dreaming of… you. I'd say you were successful, but you didn't have to flirt with them."

"I had to be believable," replied Evanlyn indignantly.

Halt shook his head. "Why? They'll have no memory of you when they wake. And I'm sure they'd still take the cookies even if they were a bit suspicious."

Evanlyn shrugged. "What's a job if it's not done properly? Besides, I had to make up for the fact that I'm covered in mud."

Halt snorted. "Did you get the keys?"

"I got them," replied Evanlyn, moving to unlock the cell to their right.


There was a rustle at the door. Gilan looked up from his position in the corner of the room, to see the keyhole was turning.

"So they decided to bring us something to eat, finally," grunted Horace.

"That's what I'm hoping, but not necessarily" replied Gilan grimly. "We've got an execution coming up, remember?"

Slowly, they rose to their feet. The door creaked open, and a mud-drenched teenage girl entered the room.

"Evanlyn!" Horace exclaimed, enveloping her in a bear hug.

"Hello, Horace," said Evanlyn, her lips curling up into a smile.

The broke apart, and Horace held his friend at arm's length. "You look terrible! How did you get here? You weren't arrested, that's for sure. I thought you were captured by Merkhliné. Did you escape? Evanlyn, your arms are bruised all over. Where did that gash on your forehead come from?"

"Whoa, Horace," said King Duncan from the corner of the room. "Would you allow me to greet my daughter?"

"Father!" Evanlyn exclaimed. "I thought – I thought you were dead!"

"And I thought the same, of you," replied the King, drawing his daughter into his arms. Dutifully, Horace stepped aside, his face still full of unasked questions. The King and his daughter exchanged a muffled conversation, as Duncan gently stroked the Princess's hair. Finally, they broke apart, their eyes rich with tears.

As they separated, Horace squinted quizzically. King Duncan's brow was furrowed in concern, and there was a worried, meaningful look in Evanlyn's eye. Briefly, he wondered what exactly they had said to one another, but then shrugged it off. He had clearly been spending too much time with Rangers.

A grizzled Ranger appeared in the doorway. "Are you planning to come out of there any time soon?"

Gilan grinned. "Hello, Halt."

Halt huffed. "Hello, Gilan. Good to see you." He turned back to Evanlyn. "Everyone's waiting for you in the next cell. We'd use the common room, but I'd rather not try our luck too much with the guards."

Evanlyn nodded, and turned to follow Halt, motioning for the others to do the same. Once out of the room, she quickened her pace to catch up with him. "What about Will?" she whispered.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Halt reassured her, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

Evanlyn sighed. "I asked my father where the other tunnel led to. He didn't know, but he said…"

Halt groaned. "Finish your sentences, girl. What did he say?"

"A few days before Merkhliné took him prisoner, he found a trapdoor in the floor of the advisers' room. He thought it might be the other end of the tunnel. The thing is, the door didn't have a combination.

Halt laughed. "Then Will should be joining us shortly."

Gilan followed after Evanlyn and Halt, suddenly feeling very light-headed. He shook off the sensation, and ignored the throbbing pain in the side of his head. He briefly wondered if King Duncan was right, and that he hadn't fully recovered, but he shrugged off the thought. It was no use worrying everyone else, especially given their current situation. Besides, it was likely he was having a headache, nothing more. He sidled into the next cell.

Bryn looked up from the corner, a wry smile crossing his lips, and Gilan was relieved to see his companion. Crowley had already entered into an animated discussion with Halt. He moved to sit beside Bryn, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Gilan spun around, to see Sir David behind him.

"Father," said Gilan, realizing that he had not seen Sir David since his suspension from the Ranger Corps. "How are you?"

Much to Gilan's surprise, Sir David drew him into a bear hug. "Hello, Gilan," he said, "you haven't been well, have you?"

"I've been fine, father," Gilan replied, returning David's embrace.

David released him, eyeing him sceptically. "Of course you have. I'm sure that near-fatal head injury of yours hasn't inconvenienced you in the slightest."

"What… but how did you know about that?" asked Gilan.

"Halt told me," stated Sir David.

Gilan's face dropped. "Oh. And did he also tell you about…"

David's features softened. "Your suspension from the corps? Yes, he told me. It was part of the reason I didn't come to see you. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

A wry smile crossed Gilan's lips. "And you weren't too keen on seeing me either, I'm sure."

Sir David laughed bitterly. "I won't pretend otherwise, Gilan. I was pretty mad at you. And I was afraid that if I came to see you, I'd slow your recovery by getting mad."

Gilan shrugged. "I was pretty mad at myself. All that has more to do with our current situation then you think. Anyway… it's good to see you."

There are… hints… about future events within this chapter. If you have any theories, leave them in a review! If you don't have any theories, review anyway! Please? Also, I'm looking to start a new story, so PLEASE VOTE ON MY POLL? Thank you.