A/N: Le gasp? Is she updating twice within twenty four hours? Yes, yes she is. See, she still feels kinda bad about leaving everyone on that small-ridge-that-wouldn't-kill-you-or-break-any-bones-if-you-fell-off-it-but-it'd-still-hurt-if-you-did-ie for so long, so she thought she'd post up this chapter super quick. She should probably also stop typing in third person too. But she doubts she will. :P

And now, announcing the winning number for the blind poll thingy: *drum roll* number 2! But of course, you still don't know which one that is! Read on and find out.

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Will hesitated; he was loathe to kill a fellow Araluan. Two factions of his mind warred. The part of him that was still himself, and desperately told him to stop the murders, that Halt would prefer to die than have innocents slaughtered. And then there was the cold, unfeeling part that had reared its ugly head at about the same time that Will had started to cease caring about the people he was killing. But he had long since become numb to his emotions as well as the assassinations, and the honed killer in his mind won out easily. With a slight bow to Magnus, he left the room silently and set off to prepare himself to kill his next victim.

He didn't notice the way the servants flinched away from him in fear as he passed them, nor that a few of them let out small squeaks of terror. He never did. Even though the sight of Will in the halls and corridors was, by now, a fairly regular occurrence, most of them believed in the Shadow of the Night rumours. Many of the rumours were reflections of ideas held about Rangers in general - that he could make himself one with the shadows, turn invisible, shoot whilst blindfolded - and several borne of fear. These tended to lean even more into realm of the fantastical - he could take the form of a beast (in most stories a giant black wolf), he could summon malevolent spirits and bend them to his will, that each of his arrows was infused with the souls of the damned. The people of Rolingan were deeply superstitious, and Will had become a figure of nightmares.

A quick glance outside showed the late afternoon sun shining lazily upon the villages clustered near the King's castle. Many of them seemed deserted, the people now almost too afraid to leave their homes other than to fetch water from the well or on market days, and even these necessary tasks were performed as quickly and as little as possible.

Will continued on to his quarters.

As his health slowly returned, Halt found himself getting an uncomfortable amount of attention from the guards stationed outside the room he and Will shared. With no order from the King, the guard had doubled and although none of them had taken to beating him again, many of them looked like they wanted to. It was probably only that the King had strictly forbidden any further damage to be dealt to 'Mister Halt' that they refrained from doing so, and Halt knew that sooner or later one of them would risk the King's fury just for the satisfaction of beating the Ranger. Will commented on it in passing to the King, trying to appear offhand, and Magnus took the hint. The guard was reduced to what it had been originally, and to put the men slightly more at ease, he had Halt put in shackles that were riveted firmly into the walls. The portion that remained of Will's old self felt horrible about using his position as royal assassin to his benefit, but at the same time didn't want Halt in danger of another beating.

The guards saw Will approach and quietly opened the door to his glorified prison. It clanked shut behind him.

"Who are you murdering this time?"

Will gazed sightlessly at Halt, replied mindlessly. "There's a Courier travelling through here, looking for us. Magnus has asked me to take care of them, and I will, when evening comes."

Halt looked out the small window at the rapidly sinking sun, then back at Will, and lurched towards him, chains rattling as they stopped him short. He strained against their constricting one and a half metre length. "Will, you can't kill a Courier! You can't do it! You'll be betraying your country!" He struggled ineffectually against the manacles that were starting to cut into his ankles and wrists.

"I have to," Will told him simply. "Stop it, Halt. You're hurting yourself. I didn't make sure the guards couldn't beat you anymore just so you could start hurting yourself."

Halt smiled bitterly. "Ironic, because without these chains, maybe I could strangle some sense into you, and we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Will said nothing, sitting himself down on his bed - well out of Halt's reach. The shadows lengthened even further as the sun touched the horizon, and Will finally stood again. Halt shouted desperately at him.

"Will! You can't do this! I won't ever forgive you if you do, and if we ever get out of this godforsaken place, I will wring your miserable, traitorous little neck myself! Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? I'll never forgive you this, Will! I disown you! I wish I had never given you into the Baron's care! You are no apprentice of mine!" His harsh words fell on deaf ears. Will slipped out into the corridor and collected his weapons from the guard, ignoring Halt's continued rant until he was too far away to hear it at all.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The woman moved through the streets as easily as one would expect of a local, however she was clearly an outsider. Even to Will, standing in the shadow of the huge chimney of one of the larger inns some hundred metres away, this was apparent. Rumours of the Shadow of the Night obviously had not yet reached her ears, otherwise, she would not be outside so close to dark. The few people she saw near their windows or doors quickly closed them as she passed by; for all they knew, she could have been an apparition of the Shadow of the Night in the form of a beautiful woman, created to allay their senses and to lead them to their doom. She tried to talk to some of them, but they all turned away in fear before she could get a word in. Glad for the warm weave of her pale blue travelling cloak, she drew it tighter around herself and headed towards the nearest inn.

She flitted in between the buildings and Will, who had until now been completely motionless, nocked an arrow, waiting for her to stop or to reach an open space. And soon enough, she did, pausing in her stride to readjust her cloak again.

He frowned. There was something familiar about the tall, graceful woman. And she was Araluan, after all. But then the months of numbness kicked in again. The arrow wavered only slightly as he released it, but its aim was still true. It soared through the air, tore through the delicate flesh of her shoulder. Bright red blood welled around the wound, sharply contrasting with the pristine whiteness of her dress and the pale blue of her cloak. She let out a sharp cry of pain and shock. Then she crumpled to the ground, motionless. He slung his bow over his back.

The fog in his head cleared.

Something clicked in his mind, and he felt like someone had just torn out his heart and trodden on it. Scrambling off the rooftop he had perched himself on, he ran towards the square where the woman had dropped. As he ran, he tried to scream, but his vocal chords didn't seem to want to respond. Instead, he mouthed one word, over and over, lips moving almost of their own accord.

Alyss.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: I know it was painfully obvious who the Courier was, but I bet you didn't expect her to get shot! I bet you thought he'd realise at the last moment. Well, you were wrong. Bwahahaha. I be ebil.

-pixie.