Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far, including Chopstick Legend, FishinAFadora, Emma, Sh'rah, Mychele O'Carrick of Clonmel, Cocoa85715, Raider1472, Nette, Muha4, Tejana, Hibernian Princess, Child of the True King and a Guest reviewer! Your comments are much appreciated XD
Also, it just occurred to me that there wouldn't be enough oxygen in the tunnels underneath Castle Araluen, and that Halt, Will and Evanlyn would have suffocated before long. So, for the plot's sake, let's say there's a system of ventilation pipes in the tunnels, in order to prevent this from happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this largely Will-centric chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice
Will continued to crawl forward, alone in the tunnel. Fear clenched at his heart. He had no idea where this tunnel led. What if it led to the throne room, or to Merkhliné's private chambers? Or worse, what if he couldn't open the trapdoor and he wasn't able to turn back? An image come to mind of himself dying alone in the dark, wet tunnel, deep within the walls of Castle Araluen. He wondered how long it would take, lying there, waiting until he starved to death. Maybe he could collapse the ventilation pipes to quicken the process… He shook the thought from his mind. He'd find a way to force open the trapdoor and sneak into the dungeons another way. He continued to sludge forward.
Will's heart jumped as his hand fell through empty space. Breathing hard, it took him a second to regain his balance. He felt the space in front of him experimentally. There was nothing. Panicking, he reeled backwards, only to somersault forward, and plummet down into the unknown depths. A couple of seconds later, he thudded against the bottom. He began to see the red veins in his eyes. Forcing his eyelids open, he saw light. The light at the end of the tunnel, he thought. It was ironic that he may well die just there. Nonetheless, he edged forward, and pushed gently at the end of the trapdoor. It swung open. He blinked, as his eyes adjusted to the light. Cautiously, he peered out.
Will stared into a large, circular room. A large table with gold lining stood in the centre. An enormous chandelier hung above, made from the finest of glass. He blinked in surprise, recognizing the lavish decorations. This was the King's personal advisers' room. Suddenly, the jewelled, arc-shaped doors swung open, and Queen Merkhliné entered, Jerome at her heels.
Quickly, Will ducked back into the tunnel. Without really thinking, he closed the trapdoor, and pressed his ear against it.
"What do you mean, Cassandra escaped?" Merkhliné's voice shrilled. "Vraiment! Can Alda not accomplish anything?"
"I'm as distressed as you are, Your Majesty," drawled Jerome's decidedly calmer voice. "We cannot afford to lose our heads, however."
"I have not lost my head," Merkhliné shouted back. "Jerome, I will not see that girl on my throne! I did not wish to leave that imbecile in control! But because you trust him so blindly, so foolishly…"
"Alda has been my friend since we were fifteen," Jerome replied coldly. "Since we were expelled from the Battleschool in Redmont, he has been my only friend."
"He has been my only friend," Merkhliné mimicked. "Your only friend besides Bryn, of course. And did you not also trust him? He betrayed us! Alda will betray us too, only accidently because he is a fool!"
"Do not speak of him in such a way!" Jerome shot back. "Don't you dare compare him to Bryn! He's nothing of the sort! He may not be the brightest chip of the block, but let me tell you, he is infinitely loyal to you!"
Silence hung between them for a moment, until Merkhliné broke it. "Are you threatening me Jerome?"
"No, Your Majesty," replied Jerome, slightly disconcerted by her reaction. "I only meant…"
"Besides," interrupted Merkhliné, taking advantage of Jerome's discomfort. "He's only loyal because you promised him knighthood. And I am no longer sure that I wish to knight him!"
"Your Majesty, step back from anger," said Jerome, sounding troubled. "You cannot suspect Alda of disloyalty when Will was in his custody also?"
"Will?" asked Merkhliné. "Oh, Ranger Halt's apprentice. I suppose you're right. It would be inconsistent and silly of me to suppose he has somehow gained enough maturity to abandon his childish grudge. Nonetheless, Alda may be arriving at Castle Araluen tomorrow morning, but he must prove his worth before I knight him!"
Within the wall, Will tensed. So Jerome and the Queen knew of his and Evanlyn's escape. His heart sunk. They had lost the element of surprise. He wasn't particularly surprised, as Alda could easily have sent a rider ahead of him with a message.
"That is fair enough, Your Majesty," he heard Jerome reply. "But we have wasted enough time already. Sit down, and let us decide what we are to do about the matter." There was a slight rustle as Merkhliné sat. "Do you trust my judgement, My Lady?" Jerome continued.
"Of course, Jerome," the Queen sighed. "I would never have undertaken this project were it not for you. I have done everything you asked of me."
"That you have, Merkhliné, that you have," replied Jerome. "I'll reschedule the execution to tomorrow morning, at dawn. If our prisoners hear that Cassandra is still living, we're guaranteed trouble."
"And that shall send a clear message to Cassandra," Merkhliné said. "It will perhaps cause her to hesitate, at least. My only fear is that the people will revolt… the execution may well give them a cause."
Jerome sighed. "My dear Merkhliné, you are trying to think like them, for which I commend you. But the execution will only strike fear and hopelessness into their hearts."
"Unless Cassandra declares herself, which she will," replied Merkhliné, sounding distressed. "That will give them something to fight for. Jerome, I don't want to be a tyrant!"
"But you do want to be powerful?" Jerome reasoned.
"I want to be liked! I want the world to see me as a fair and just queen!" Merkhliné shot back.
"Don't be foolish!" Jerome replied, his voice hard. "You know you can't have that! Not yet! It's this or nothing, Merkhliné."
"But to kill all these people? To plunder villages? C'est horrible, Jerome!" Merkhliné cried.
"Don't be a fool, Merkhliné," replied Jerome replied coldly. "Such attitudes will have you off the throne before you know it. I'll make the arrangements for the execution tomorrow morning."
A chair scraped, and footsteps ran towards the door.
"Why do you always override me, Jerome," Merkhliné called.
The footsteps stopped. "Where would you be without me, Merkhliné?" replied Jerome, before continuing out the door.
Will heard Merkhliné sigh heavily, then get up and continue out the door.
Will waited a few minutes, and then climbed out of the tunnel. He let go of the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, relieved at finally being out in open space. Aware that he was tracking mud around the room, he took off his cloak. The Ranger cloaks were waterproof, and apparently they were relatively mud-proof, too. Underneath the cloak, he was still dirty, but not conspicuously so.
Reluctantly, he folded up his cloak, and placed it back in the tunnel. Unseen movement would be more difficult now, but not impossible. He paused, and took off his boots, realizing that they too would leave behind him a trail of mud. He placed them in the tunnel with his cloak and closed the door, resolving to come back for them later.
Quietly, Will slipped out of the room. Perhaps he could go down to the dungeons, disguised as a servant. His mind raced, as he played back the Jerome and Merkhliné's conversation in his mind. Clearly, Jerome wanted a puppet. He was able to deduce that Merkhliné wanted the throne, and would do anything to get it. She had accepted Jerome's support enthusiastically, although Will suspected that the thought of taking the throne for herself had been Jerome's idea in the first place.
Two, finely dressed men swept into the corridor. Automatically, Will lowered his eyes and slumped his shoulders. One of the men stopped in front of him. "Who're you?" the man grunted. Will frowned at man's rough accent. Clearly, he was one of Merkhliné's advisers, unfamiliar with courtly affairs.
The other man laughed. "Probably just one of them slaves from the villages," he replied in an equally unrefined accent. He pushed Will back roughly. "Go down to the training ground and take this to the captain," he said, handing Will a thick, heavily jewelled sword that would make Sir Rodney shudder. "Be quick about it, or I'll have you beaten!"
Will nodded, and quickly bowed. He wasn't sure if the bow was necessary, but it pleased the men. He continued down the corridor, allowing himself a small smile. Of course, his dirty clothes and bare feet did resemble that of one of Merkhliné's slaves. But now he had a purpose, a disguise.
He climbed down several flights of stairs, and entered the courtyard. He walked purposely through the courtyard until he reached the training ground.
Will gasped. The training ground was full with thousands of warriors. He even recognised a few of the faces, faces he and Halt had arrested in the past. He identified people from all over the world in the crowd, including Araluens, Gallicans, Nihon-Jans, Celts and Skandians. Merkhliné had gathered a diverse army of common criminals, all desperate for revenge – a powerful force indeed. He swallowed, and then quickly delivered the sword to the captain.
As he exited the training ground, one soldier threw a basket of weapons at him, and told him to sharpen them. Will nodded, smiling to himself, inspecting the large array of firearms. He'd sharpen them, all right, but he had no intention of giving them back.
Halt wringed his hands exasperatedly, glaring around the room. Two hours they'd been in the pit of the cell. And what had they accomplished? Nothing! Sure, they had discussed constantly, argued, tossed ideas back and forth, but they'd come up with no plan, or at least nothing tangible. And to make matters worse, Will was who-knew-where, lost in the deep abyss of the tunnels. Unless, of course, he had made it out, as Halt knew he would. Will would get out, and find some other way into the dungeons. Halt had complete faith in his apprentice, but he was still worried nonetheless.
As if on cue, the cell door swung open, and Will entered, carrying with him a large basket of weapons, and dropping them on the floor.
"Will!" Horace cried joyfully, jumping to his feet and thudding the Apprentice Ranger on the back. He then set to work gathering up the various firearms from the floor, and Will vaguely wondered if it was himself Horace was so excited to see, or the weapons.
Other people surged forward, pulling Will into the room, the dungeon walls filling with joy and laughter. Amidst everything, Evanlyn pounced on Will, hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered. "How did you get the weapons?"
"I'll explain later," Will replied, returning her embrace. "I found out a few things."
Evanlyn's eyes perked in interest, and she broke away from him. "Like what?" she asked, quickly turning to Gilan, who was approaching beside her. "Gilan, Will found out a few things!"
Gilan heaved in a deep breath. "Quiet!" he roared.
Instantly, the room faded into silence. Silence, apart from, of course, the ringing in Will's ears. Gorlog, Gilan was loud.
Gilan indicated his young friend. "While running amuck in Castle Araluen, Will was able to find out a few things," he spoke, calmly and clearly. "Tell them, Will. Start at the beginning and leave nothing out."
Speaking quickly at first, but then slowing to a clear, detailed tone of voice, Will recounted all the events since he had found himself alone in the tunnel. The others watched him, their brows furrowing in concern and interest. Eventually, he broke off, leaving the others to their own deductions.
"So," King Duncan said thoughtfully, "it sounds to me like Merkhliné is something of a puppet."
"A puppet, yes," added Halt, "but she's certainly not without her own motivations. Will caught her at one of her weaker moments, and I suspect her emotions were running away with her. She's still dangerous. A puppet she may be, but we shouldn't underestimate her."
"No, you're right," the King added thoughtfully. "So, what do we know?"
"We know that we're being executed tomorrow," Gilan said slowly. "That is, all of us, except for the King, as I doubt they'd be stupid enough to kill him in public. And not Halt, Will and Evanlyn either, because they're technically not meant to be here." Gilan rose shakily to his feet. "I think… I have a plan."
All eyes turned toward the suspended Ranger. Gilan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Alarmingly, he swayed. Immediately, Sir David shot up beside him, taking a firm grip of his son's upper arm.
"Explain later," said the Battlemaster gruffly. "You need to lie down."
Well! In my original plan for this story, Gilan said 'I think I have a plan' about five chapters ago! How things change… I don't know how long until the next chapter will come, but I hope it will be well worth the wait… There's some definite action coming! Feel free to theorize! Please Review! Constructive criticism is always welcome and highly appreciated!