Chapter 10: Arrivals and Departures

Two weeks later

It was late afternoon when Morgarath, Lord of Night and Rain, finally returned to his black castle hidden deep in the mountains. His horse was nearly dead, and he himself was exhausted. Shouting roughly for his men to assemble in the throne room, he dismounted and walked slowly towards the main hall. Morgarath was ready to drop, but he knew that he could not show weakness in front of his men. They were all criminals and outlaws, and they would be quick to betray him if they thought that he was at anything less than full strength, especially considering the outcome of the recent battle at the plains.

The throne room within the black castle was a crude imitation of the one in Castle Araluen, and a heavy obsidian throne stood imposingly on a raised dais at the back. As Morgarath positioned himself on the throne, the room seemed to fill with a dark energy and more than one of the men present shifted nervously under the powerful gaze of their Lord.

"General Owen, step forward," Morgarath commanded, and Owen hurried to kneel before the dais. "Report." There was no need for Morgarath to elaborate. Years of service left Owen with no doubt about what he wanted.

"We arrived just over two weeks ago, my Lord. The Ranger boy is in the cells and I have had him kept under guard. It is unlikely that he will try to escape again, and the wound in his shoulder is healing well." Owen spoke calmly and kept his gaze trained at Morgarath's feet. The dark Lord hated it when his men showed disrespect and Owen could tell that Morgarath was in a bad mood. He had returned alone and a lot earlier than expected; Owen presumed that the battle had not gone well.

There was a dark flash in Morgarath's eye and, too late, Owen realized that he had made a serious mistake. "What do you mean 'escape again', General?" Morgarath said, his tone icy.

Quickly, Owen summarized Will's escape attempt, careful not to mention the name of the man that had unlocked his shackles. He knew that Morgarath would want to punish him for allowing the boy to get free in the first place, and if Owen revealed the man's name then none of the other men would trust him anymore.

"I am glad that he did not manage to get away, General. Things would have been much worse for you if he had. However, as it is, I find that I must punish you for the fact that he was able to escape at all." Owen continued to look at the ground and tried not to let Morgarath see that he was shaking. "Guards! Take this man to the post. He is to be given twenty lashes for his disobedience. Let this be an example to all of you, I will not tolerate failure, and anyone slacking in their duties will be severely punished."

As the Lord of Rain and Night watched Owen being dragged away, he did nothing to hide the smile on his face. He knew that he was being overly harsh on the old general, but Morgarath ruled by fear and in light of his recent defeat he felt that he needed to remind his people exactly why they should obey him.

"Bring me the Ranger." Morgarath thought that it was about time that he became properly aquatinted with the young apprentice. They boy was going to be here for a long time, after all.

Halt swore loudly and slammed the door of his small cabin with a loud bang. He had been spending the last couple weeks hunting down various criminals and outlaws all over Redmount and he was thoroughly sick of it. Dozens of would be bandits had sprung up all over the county to try and take advantage of the chaos left behind by the battle at the Plains of Uthal.

After Halt had arrived back at the battlefield, exhausted and grief stricken, he had asked Crowley for a leave of absence to go to Skandia.

The Ranger Commandant was one of Halt's oldest friends and Crowley had known how much it would hurt Halt to refuse him. He had wanted desperately to allow Halt to go and find Erak and his crew, but he had known that it would be impossible. Duty came first, that was the oath that all Rangers took when they graduated, and Crowley knew that his friend would be needed in Redmount. Two Rangers had been severely injured in the battle, and more than a dozen had been otherwise wounded; he simply didn't have the men he needed to keep the country in order for long enough to allow Halt to go off to Skandia. Crowley had seen the hurt and betrayal in Halt's eyes as he had refused him but there was nothing he could do.

Crowley just hoped that Halt wouldn't do anything stupid.

As he sat at the small wooden table drinking a steaming cup of coffee, Halt thought about what to do. Every bandit he chased, every pickpocket or thief he caught, and every day that passed took the Skandians further and further out of his reach. He wanted to go to Skandia and tear the man apart, limb by limb, to avenge his apprentice but he knew that it wouldn't be possible. He was a Ranger and because of that he was needed in Araluen. It was his duty.

Unconsciously, Halt fingered the small silver Oakleaf amulet that hung around his neck. It was the sign of the Corps, and every Ranger, active, retired, or apprentice in their second year or above received an amulet, signifying their status. Dimly, Halt remembered giving Will his bronze amulet, the sign of an apprentice. As he pictured the smiling face of his young apprentice, Halt slowly lifted the chain over his head. It's funny, Halt thought, how such a little thing can mean so much.

Standing abruptly, Halt made his decision. Gently he let the amulet and its chain fall through his calloused fingers and he watched as it coiled neatly onto the table next to the now empty mug of coffee. Then, without a backwards glance, he grabbed his traveling pack, walked out of the cabin, and went to saddle Abelard and Tug.

Will was hungry. The shackles were back around his ankles and he had been chained up again, this time to a wall. At first Will had thought that he would be able to chip away at the stone and pull the hook free, but he had quickly realized that it would be impossible. He didn't even have anything to chip at the wall with, and it was some sort of solid dark stone that Will had never seen before.

Even if, by some miracle, he managed to pull the hook free from the wall, he still wouldn't be able to get out of the cell. From the sound of it, there was always a guard outside the door and he was pretty sure that the door was locked. It would be rather stupid if it wasn't.

He wasn't sure how long he had been in the cells for, but he guessed that it was about two weeks, perhaps longer. There was no source of light to tell day from night, but Will thought that he had gotten good at judging the time by listening to the guards. When they were active and loud, Will guessed that it was sometime during the day. If they started to snore, Will supposed that meant that it was night, but he couldn't be too sure; he had caught some of the Redmont dayshift guards sleeping on occasion while wandering around the castle.

Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound that Will supposed was the guard standing up, and he tensed as he heard footsteps echoing down the passage outside of his cell. Something was about to happen. Unless he was mistaken-and he didn't think he was, it was still too early for someone to be bringing him his next meal.

As Will was pondering exactly why there now was an extra guard standing outside his cell, there was a rattling of keys and a scrape of wood on stone as the door was opened. He blinked as light flooded the cell, but before his vision could adjust, someone grabbed him roughly by the shirt and pulled him to his feet. As the man bent down to unclip the chain from the wall, Will noticed that there were three more men standing at the door, cutting off his escape so he had no choice but to do what they wanted.

Once he was freed from the wall, the man grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him out the door. "You're coming with me. Lord Morgarath wants to see you." Will couldn't suppress the shiver of fear those words triggered.

As Will walked, the length of chain that had been attached to the wall now dragged on the ground, and Will could feel the weight pulling on the shackle on his right foot. Will was lead through the maze of corridors and doorways until they reached what he presumed must be Morgarath's throne room.

The room held nearly 50 men and women, and none of them looked very friendly. Some even had the same smug grin as the man that had lead him here. Will was marched up to the dais until he was standing directly in front of Morgarath. Will looked directly into the self-titled Lord's cold eyes, refusing to either look down or kneel. It was a small defiance, really, but it was all he could do and Will couldn't keep a small grin from showing on his face when he heard Morgarath's low growl of rage.

Suddenly, something hit him in the back with what felt like the force of a battering ram, and Will was knocked heavily onto the cold stone.

"Rise, Ranger," Morgarath said, and Will could tell that he was smirking.

"Apprentice." Will had risen to his feet, and was again looking directly into the eyes of his captor. "I'm an apprentice."

"I am aware of that, boy," Morgarath said arrogantly, smirking. "If you had been a real Ranger, you would have been harder to catch."

Now it was Will's turn to smirk. He knew that he shouldn't be trying to aggravate Morgarath, but he couldn't keep himself from responding. "I might just be an apprentice, but I still managed to foil your plans just as well as any graduate Ranger, don't you think? I mean, that bridge burnt wonderfully, all that tar and wood…" Will's mocking, happy voice trailed off as he watched Morgarath pick up a pair of chain mail backed gloves and slowly pull them on.

"You're a cocky one, aren't you?" Will wisely chose to remain silent that time. "I think that I will rather enjoy teaching you manners, don't you?" Morgarath was smiling again, slowly curling his hands in and out of fists, being very obvious as he did so.

The motion brought back memories of when he had got attacked by the three battleschool apprentices, but there was no Horace and Halt to save him this time, and this enemy was much more dangerous.

Suddenly, Morgarath moved. Will flinched backwards as the first blow struck his jaw, the sound of metal striking flesh resounding through the large stone room. Will couldn't keep from crying out in pain each time the gloves struck. As he was gasping for breath from a blow to the stomach, blood trickling down his face, he became aware that someone was holding him up.

Morgarath struck Will again and again, stopping only when he was panting for breath and Will was slumped unconscious in the grasp of the man that had been propping him up for Morgarath's punches.

Slowly, Morgarath turned and surveyed the watching men and women, noticing that Owen was standing and watching, a blank expression on his face. He turned back and addressed the man still holding Will up. "Take this piece of filth back to his cell."

Footsteps echoed eerily off the black stone walls as Morgarath, Lord of Night and Rain, strode confidently from the room, stripping off his gloves as he went.

"Ranger Halt!"

Halt stepped backwards into the shadows of the stable, his right hand dropping instinctively towards his saxe knife, his left pulling his cowl over his face. There shouldn't be anyone at his cabin, as he had made it clear to Baron Arald that he needed a few days to himself, to 'rest'. There most certainly shouldn't be a young man guiding a gigantic battle horse into the clearing.

Slowly, Halt relaxed as he saw who it was and, stepping out of the shadows, he addressed the young battleschool apprentice. "What do you want?" Halt said gruffly, not bothering to conceal his impatience.

Horace, having just dismounted Kicker, jumped and quickly spun around, his hand going to the hilt of the broadsword that was strapped at the ready around his waist. He had thought that Halt was in the cabin; he definitely hadn't been expecting the Ranger to appear, as if by magic, from the shadows behind him. Although, now that he thought about it, he probably should have.

"I'm coming with you," Horace said. His voice gave no hint of any unease and the young battleschool apprentice glared at Halt, as if daring him to argue.

"Coming with me where, Horace? I'm not going anywhere," Halt stated, calmly.

Horace felt a brief twinge of anger as he looked at the bearded Ranger and saw, clear as day, the two Ranger horses saddled and loaded with travelling gear behind him. "You're going to Skandia after those pirates that killed Will, and I'm coming with you. He was my best friend." The last part was spoken so softly that Halt almost didn't hear it.

Halt studied the young man standing in front of him and silently pondered what to do. The boy was determined, he had proven that just by turning up, and he was brave as well. He was also a natural with a sword and Halt figured that it would come in handy having Horace around in a fight. Nodding to himself, Halt made his decision. "I take it that you are all packed and ready to go?"

"Yes, sir," Horace nodded, barely believing what he was hearing. He had never thought that Halt would actually take him!

"Then mount up, and let's go." Not waiting to see if Horace was following, Halt swung up into Abelard's saddle and left the clearing at a trot. He smiled grimly to himself as he heard the young apprentice scramble to mount his massive battlehorse, Kicker, and follow him.

A/N

What do you think? Was Will out of character? I thought so a bit, but he wouldn't behave and kept saying infuriating things to Morgarth, no matter how I tried to re write it, so I made it stay.

The title makes me think of airports, but I couldn't think of anything better. I'm horrid at titles, but I though just calling the chapters by the numbers was boring. :)

Thanks to my beta, Eques Pirate.

Ali Ranger51