"Absolutely not," Gilan answered in a clipped voice. "Will, you've asked me before and the answer is always the same." Exhaustion colored his voice and Will felt a twinge of guilt, but it wasn't enough to get him to stop asking. The two Rangers wove their way through the rows of tents of the Araluen royal army, each identical to the one next to it. Everything was so similar it was a wonder more people didn't get lost. "You heard the order," he added more quietly. "Straight from the King."
"Gilan, he's sent another one after her," Will said, almost pleading. He just needed a little time to get away. "Most of the Rangers are here, you don't need me. Marian is my apprentice…"
"Enough," Gilan interrupted. He halted and Will stopped beside him. The soldiers, pages, and other people who were a part the army camp swirled around them, the two cloaked figures a spot of silence in the bustle. Though the soldiers were somewhat used to the Rangers, most of them were still unsettled by their presence and eyed the two of them warily. It was even worse when more than one Ranger gathered in one place.
"You can't go," Gilan said. "That's not coming from your friend, that's coming from your Commandant. If Will Treaty disappeared in the middle of this war, what do you think that would mean, what that would do to morale? Not to mention your actual skills. You're one of the best Rangers we have. We need you and everyone else one-hundred percent committed to win this. I'm going to be honest; the Rangers are barely hanging on as it is. Marian is going to have to fend for herself."
Will clenched his teeth to keep from saying something he knew he would regret. Gilan's voice softened as he continued. "I'm sorry, Will. I know you want to go but it's just not possible. You're needed here." He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Look, you're spent. You just got back, go get something to eat, and rest. We can hold off on the meeting for an hour or so.
"She's one of us, Gilan," Will tried on more time. "We can't turn our back on her. We wouldn't on anyone else if they were," he glanced around and lowered his voice, though it didn't lose it's heat. "If they were in this world.
Gilan's eyes hardened. "If she were here, she would be doing her duty. Like we all must. You trained her, Will, and I understand you don't want her to get hurt. You want to keep your apprentice safe. But none of us are safe," he said. "It's not a luxury we can afford. Don't you think, if they could, all the other Rangers would keep their apprentices from harm? How do you think the ones who have already lost apprentices feel? I can't give you any special treatment."
Gilan placed a hand on Will's shoulder and it was all Will could do to keep from shrugging it off. "Take a break. I'll see you at the meeting in an hour." It wasn't hard to hear the order under those words. So Will nodded and Gilan left him, already distracted by another problem he had to deal with.
Will watched his friend and commander walk away. He rubbed tiredly at his face, feeling the harsh prickle of a beard underneath his palm. He hadn't had time to shave once the heavy fighting finally broke out. He wasn't used to having a beard, and it made him feel old. Horace even joked he was starting to look like "grizzled, old Halt," as he put it—out of Halt's hearing of course.
While he stood amidst the bustle Will wished fiercely that Alyss was here with him. She could always help him see more clearly whenever things got complicated. But she was away on a diplomatic mission to Skandia, hoping to get more aid from their allies. Sometimes it almost felt like she was as far away from him as Marian was.
The scent of coffee reached him briefly before it was overpowered by the other, stronger aromas of unwashed people, horses, leather, muck, and cooking that always hovered around the army camp. He decided he could take Gilan's advice on this part at least, and get something to drink and eat. He needed to keep up his strength. He needed to think.
Will moved in the opposite direction of Gilan, towards one of the cook tents. On the way he heard the steady beat of trotting horses and he deftly stepped out of the way as a group of soldiers came down the lane. Their armor was mud spattered and the looks on their faces were blank from fatigue and the horror of battle. Up until recently Jeren had been fighting with militia tactics, and these men had probably been part of the fighting from the beginning. Jeren's forces would hit and run sporadically, sometimes hitting multiple places at once. It was almost impossible to defend and ran them ragged. Araluen's forces were spread thinner and thinner until Jeren finally decided to attack in force.
The first sign was the slaughtering of the guards at the watchtower. Will remembered when he first heard the news. There was no question it was a valkan and there was only one possible person it could be going after. He had taken Tug and made it halfway to the watchtower before Halt intercepted him and told him the rest of the news. The watchtower was taken by some of Jeren's men, but Duncan sent a regiment to surround the tower as soon as he heard. The two sides were at an impasse, and it made their current forces even smaller. Will couldn't get in. And, as Halt bluntly put it, by the time he got there it wouldn't matter. The valkan was long gone.
Then, as if that wasn't enough, Jeren played his final card. He invaded. He no longer used the smaller raiding parties, and the valkans were no longer hunting as single entities. They were packs, interspersed throughout the frontlines of Jeren's mercenary army. Duncan had gathered their forces, called together what was left of the Ranger Corps, and rode out to meet him.
The Rangers, dangerous on their own, were deadly as a group. Now there was a visible target, all come together and conveniently placed in the front. Finally, they could unleash their rage, grief, and vengeance on the creatures that had taken so many people from them. And vengeance came on the cold, lethal song of arrows.
But the valkans kept coming. Nobody knew how many Jeren had found, or bred as some speculated, so whenever they thought they finished them off another pack would emerge. This was not even counting the humans Jeren had recruited to his side. It was a bitter fight and everyone was needed, because everyone was exhausted. Will understood his place was here. That understanding didn't help when a messenger came once more, almost dead on his feet when he made the report. Will had lived in worry for his apprentice, wondering if the creature had gotten to Marian. When he heard there was another valkan making its way towards the tower he knew it meant she was still alive. It also meant another assassin was on its way to kill her.
He couldn't talk to Halt or Horace because he knew what they would say. One lone valkan sneaking past the blockade and into the watchtower didn't warrant him abandoning his post. But Will didn't want to hear it, not right now. It was the same thing he had been telling himself all day, anyway. You have your duty; she chose to take the mission; you trained her well; she is capable of this; you have your duty, over and over again. Yet no matter how hard he tried to convince himself she would be all right, the hard stone of dread in the pit of his stomach wouldn't go away.
Will could see the pointed top of the cook tent and his mouth started to water in anticipation of a hot cup of coffee. Master Chubb's second-in-command, Clara, had recently ordered that there always be a pot of coffee ready in every cook tent for any Ranger who asked. Apparently there had been one too many times where one of the camp's cooks would throw an old pot out just as a Ranger would come through asking for more. Of course everyone knew the Rangers had their own supply, but when the army provided it for them it was better to save their own stock for their long and lonely journeys.
Pushing the heavy canvas aside, Will slipped into the tent and stood against the side in order to get his bearings. Young men and women bustled about, muscles straining as they carried cauldrons, their faces red from steam. The tent itself was situated near the back of the main encampment in order to provide what safety one could get out in the field.
Clara was in the middle of the chaos, doling out orders in a stern and quiet voice. She didn't bellow, but one look or gesture was as effective as any shouted command from an officer. Will smiled as he saw the determination in the eyes of her subjects to make Clara proud and fulfill her orders to the letter. They reminded him of Marian, the way she would study something with her head slightly tilted when she was concentrating her hardest. She always wanted to get everything right.
"R—Ranger Treaty?"
Will looked to his right where a visibly nervous kitchen runner—a person who does whatever the others ask him to do—was holding out a steaming tin cup. He raised an eyebrow, and anyone who knew him would have said he looked exactly like Halt in that moment. "Is that for me?"
"Mistress Clara saw you come in. She told me to fetch it for you," the boy said. The cup shook slightly in his hands. Will couldn't help the small smile that crept across his face. His hood was down, which normally tempered whatever intimidation others felt when talking to a Ranger, but it didn't seem to have that effect on this particular boy. Though brave enough to work in the field, even as a kitchen runner, he still felt trepidation at approaching one of the Ranger Corps.
Will took the cup with a friendly smile. "Thank you. If Miss Clara asks, tell her I think you're doing well." The boy made a hasty bow and retreated back into the general chaos. Will lifted his head and caught Clara's eye, raising his cup in a toast. He should have known she would notice the moment he stepped into her domain. She accepted with a nod of her head and a small smile, but didn't stop whatever instruction she was giving to her troops.
Drink in hand, Will left through the back flap. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't really know where to go either. He couldn't face his comrades right now. What he really needed was to wander and get lost in the belly of the creature that was the Araluen army.
The heat from the drink seeped through his hands and trickled down his throat when he sipped, warming him from the inside and out. After the first drink he closed his eyes to savor the flavor, realizing the young kitchen boy had even remembered to put a little honey in it. The more he drank the more human he felt and he was grateful for this small measure of comfort.
Even though it was nearing the evening and things were starting to settle down, there was a constant hum that hovered in the air. Distant sounds of metal clashing mixed with the neigh of a horse. Small groups of people gathered in front of their tents, chatting quietly. He walked by one larger group gathered around an overturned barrel. They were quiet, intent on something in the middle. Then they burst into either cheering or groaning, depending on what side of the dice roll they were on. Thin columns of smoke rose up from the personal campfires everyone was starting to light. He wondered briefly what it would be like to see the fires at night from above, spread out and gleaming like stars in the sky.
His feet carried him towards the corrals, where the horses were picketed. Will thought maybe he could talk to Tug. His horse always seemed to know what to say to him. He was draining the last bit of coffee from his cup when he heard a jumble of muffled voices. They sounded angry and taunting and carried the promise of trouble.
Moving quietly between the horses, Will followed the voices. As they grew louder he realized they belonged to younger children, most likely apprentices.
"Are you going to run away, huh?" one boy voice jeered. "Are you going to run away like she did?"
"Leave him alone!" a girl yelled.
He heard a muffled reply and then another thump of fist meeting clothed flesh. Some of the horses were snorting and shuffling, sensing distress. Will put up his hood. The voices were coming from the end of the line. He could see Tug's smaller shaggier form, the tail flicking back and forth. Will noticed when his horse registered his presence, his ears perking up. But the pony didn't react any further and Will was glad the bullies would not be alerted to his approach.
"You need a girl to defend you?" another boy taunted. "Can't help yourself?"
Another boy yelled and then Will heard a scuffle, before someone whimpered. "You might as well stay down," the first voice said, a little breathless. "Or, better yet, run away like your little Ranger friend. Strange how we haven't seen her since the real fighting starts."
Will stopped cold. He knew exactly who the bullies were talking about and was struggling to keep his anger in check.
"You don't know anything," he heard the girl sneered.
"I know more than you two," the boy said smugly. "My master knows everything."
"Everything is quite a lot to know. It's a wonder he can remember it all," Will said, stepping out from behind the horses. Five young people turned to him, startled.
"Bryan," he said coldly to the young man who had just spoken. "I would think Ranger Nolan would have taught you better. In fact, I was not aware Ranger Nolan knew of what my apprentice was up to."
The young man's eyes were round with fear and his friends leaned slightly away from him, hoping not to draw Will's ire. Will tapped the tip of his bow slowly against the ground. He noticed the girl wrench her arms out of her captor's hold and run to the gangly boy on the ground. They were Marian's friends…Carey and James, he recalled.
"You three clearly do not have enough time on your hands," Will growled. "Report to Mistress Clara in the kitchen tent and tell her I sent you. Tell her to give all three of you a sentence for fighting, bullying, and stirring up unrest."
"But…Ranger Will…" Bryan sputtered. He was clearly the most vocal of the group. Will locked eyes with the apprentice, who quailed under the quiet contained anger. His hood cast a shadow across his face and made him look even more mysterious and menacing than usual.
"Do. Not. Test me." The words were slow and steady but the toughest of men would quail under his tone. "You have acted in a way unworthy of that oak leaf around your neck." He glanced at Bryan's cronies. "I will notify your masters of where you are, and they will accept the sentence I gave you. Now, go. I suspect you will have a lot of work to do. And," his voice halted the boys who were about to scatter. "I will be checking to see you followed my instructions. If there is any deviation, next time I will be the one doling out the punishment."
The boys hung their heads, refusing to meet his eyes, and left the scene. As soon as they were out of sight Will pushed back his hood and knelt next to James, who was pressing tenderly at a swelling bruise on his cheek.
"Are you all right, James?" he asked kindly.
"You shouldn't have just let them go," Carey snapped. Her arm was around James's shoulder but she stared at Will defiantly. "They deserved worse."
"Clara will see to it, as I'm sure you know," Will answered. Carey was supposed to be Chubb's apprentice, but when the war began in earnest he divided up his workers. Carey had worked for Clara before and she knew how strict, and fair, the woman could be. "Now, will you tell me what happened?"
"Bryan was talking about Marian," James mumbled. "Carey snapped at him and I was there, backing her up."
"You didn't have to," Carey said. "I could take care of myself."
"It wasn't just for you," he looked at her. "Marian is my friend too. And they're not the only ones sayin' stuff like that. I couldn't hear it anymore. But..." he glanced at Will with guilt. "It's hard to speak up when we don't even know what's happened."
"James!"
"It's true!" he said. Then he turned to Will. "You must know. She just left us, without a word, and then the fighting got bad."
"You got a letter, same as me," Carey said. "You know Marian, she wouldn't leave without a good reason."
Will's heart sank. He had heard the same things from people, and some from those in the Ranger Corps. No one would say it directly to him, but he heard whispers. He also knew how helpless these two must feel, because he couldn't defend his apprentice like he wanted to.
"I promise you both, what Marian is doing…it's important. Necessary. The King entrusted her with a mission only she could do," Will said earnestly. "I know she would be here if she could."
"See?" Carey said, squeezing James's shoulder. "She's going to be fine."
Will felt guilty when Carey glanced at him and he could see the question in her eyes. He couldn't give voice to the fear inside him, the doubts even he was having. "Come on," he said, helping James to his feet. The young man smiled shyly and then winced.
"Thank you Ranger Will," he said "But we should be getting back."
Will nodded. "If they give you trouble again, let me know." They were Marian's friends and he felt almost responsible for them, too.
"If you…if you hear of any news of Marian, will you tell us?" Carey asked. They were looking at him expectantly and it was more difficult than he thought to smile like nothing was wrong.
"Of course," he said.
They nodded at him and then made their way slowly back into the depths of the camp, heads bent together in quiet conversation. The sharp ache in his heart as he watched them walk away made him realize something. When he was their age, and he was in trouble, his friends risked everything to help him. He couldn't do any less for his own apprentice then others had done for him. Gorlog take his orders and take the rules. He had work to do.
*RMRMRMRMRMR*
He had gone to the meeting, like Gilan requested. He contributed when he needed to and tried not to let anyone realize he had other things on his mind. He caught Halt eyeing him a few times but there was nothing he could do. His mentor was as sharp as ever but Will couldn't let on what his plans were. He didn't want to take anyone else down with him if things went south.
That night under the cover of darkness, he made his way back to the corral. He walked confidently, like he had somewhere to be. A Ranger skulking around his own camp would be more suspicious than one just walking around.
Tug nickered a greeting, as Will got closer. When he found his pony Will ruffled his mane. "Hey boy," he whispered. Tug butted Will's chest, forcing him back a step. Will thought he seemed anxious. "Yeah, I feel it too. You ready to ride?"
The pony snorted. I thought you'd never ask. Will smiled and started cinching the saddle, tying his packs, and checking the reins. He unhitched Tug from the line and led him away. He had just put a foot in the stirrup when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"I'm surprised it took you this long to sneak away."
Will cursed silently and set his foot down. He turned and saw Horace behind him, arms crossed, with Halt by his side. "Dammit, Will, what are you thinking?" Horace asked.
"I'm thinking I'm going to stop one of those monsters," Will snapped. He looked straight at Halt. "You can't expect me to sit back while my apprentice is in danger. You of all people should understand that."
Halt didn't say anything, just scrutinized Will. It was difficult not to squirm under his gaze, like he was a first year apprentice again. "What?"
"You can get in serious trouble for this," Horace said with concern.
"Both of you risked serious trouble to help me when I was in Skandia. Why can't I do the same?"
His two friends glanced sidelong at each other and Will swung himself up into the saddle. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But you can't stop me."
Halt moved forward and grabbed Tug's reins. "Will. If you get caught, you will give up everything. There will be nothing for Marian to come home to."
Will looked at him, the man who had become a surrogate father and a mentor. "If I don't go, she might not come home."
There was silence between them for a moment and Halt didn't loosen his grip. Then he sighed and looked away. "I should have known better," he muttered to himself. "Horace, did you bring your horse?"
Will looked up in surprise while Horace groaned. "Of course."
"You didn't think we would let you go on your own, did you boy?" Halt asked, his voice a low rumble. "I'll do my best for you here, give you some time to get that creature and then get back."
"Horace I can't ask you to do this," Will insisted. "It's my choice, I won't drag you into it."
"And this is mine," his friend said, leading Kicker up next to Tug. The big man, in full armor, swung into the saddle with ease while the battle horse pranced a little beneath him. "You're not facing one of those things by yourself. And if it gives us the chance to rid the world of one more valkan fine by me. I'm coming with you for as long as I can, Will."
"I have to travel fast and Kicker isn't built for long distance speed," he snapped. He knew what he could be giving up, but he didn't want his best friend doing the same thing.
Horace patted the battle horse's neck. "The sooner we go the sooner we'll catch up." He grinned at Will. "I can be just as stubborn as you, you know. You might as well accept it."
"Be careful you two," Halt said. "Try not to get killed. And get back soon. I'll do what I can, but I can't hold off a judgment forever."
Will gritted his teeth. He was frustrated with Horace and Halt, both, but if he was honest with himself he was also glad they had his back. Now that the decision had been made, the road ahead seemed easy. For now, all they had to do was ride.
*RMRMRMRMRMR*
They rode as long and hard as they could without injuring the horses. Will chafed against the delay when they had to slow down, but years of long practice and patience helped keep his worry in check. They would certainly never arrive if their horses went lame.
By the time he could see the watchtower in the distance, the time it took to travel there had blurred together. It hadn't mattered how long, really, as long as they got there before the valkan crossed over.
"Have you seen it?" Horace asked. They were walking their horses now as the tower grew infinitesimally larger. Surrounding it was a blurred shadow that Will knew were Duncan's forces. The valkan would at least have a harder time getting through that.
"Seen what?" Will asked.
"The other place," Horace gestured with his free hand. "When you sent her through, did you see it?"
Horace had been clued in to the secret behind the watchtower after Marian left. He hadn't been satisfied with their typical explanation. Then Will convinced the King, with Cassandra's help, that Horace should know. He still seemed unconvinced but when you had two members of the royal family and your best-friend Ranger swearing it was true, it was hard to argue.
"No," Will answered him. "I never went through. There was a door and she walked through it. We stayed in the courtyard."
He could feel Horace's look but Will kept his eyes forward. "Would you ever want to go?" Horace asked.
Will let the question hang in the air. He wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with the consequences of going to another world, or acknowledging it more than they already have. But he couldn't think about that. "I'll do whatever it takes to bring her back. Eventually, yes, I want to go through because that means this war is over and Marian can come home." He glanced over and saw his friend's concerned expression. "Alyss says the cabin is too dreary now that she's gone," he smiled.
Horace saw the comment for what it was, but played along. "Yes, I can see Alyss getting sentimental. Not that you ever would, huh?"
"Who, me?" Will asked innocently.
"Careful," Horace teased. "You'll turn into Halt before you know it."
Will laughed. "Don't tell him, he likes to think he's unique."
"Gracie seems to think so," Horace said wryly. "She coos over that old man. He's one of the few people besides Cassandra and I who can get her to stop crying when she is in full tantrum mode."
"How are she and Ev—Cassandra doing?" Will asked about his goddaughter. "How old is she now?"
"Almost a full year," Horace beamed with fatherly pride. "Cassandra has her hands full, with the baby and running the castle in Duncan's absence. Frankly, it was easier to convince her to stay at Castle Araluen because of Gracie. I miss them though," he admitted. "Sometimes I even miss when she would try to pull my beard." Will smiled at his friend who sounded so wistful. He was a big man and Will still looked small compared to him. But he always moved so carefully whenever he held his daughter. That was, until he became more comfortable and then it looked like the most natural thing in the world.
"What about you and Alyss?" he asked.
Will shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat a little. "No. We thought it best to wait until after the fighting, and we were both so busy beforehand. Then I took Marian as my apprentice…" he shrugged. He didn't want to admit out loud how much he did want a child of his own, but also how terrified he would be. He wanted to be a good father, especially because he never had one, besides Halt. And Marian felt as close to him as any daughter. "Someday, I think, but for now we have other things to worry about."
Horace nodded. "Speaking of, what's your plan? We don't even know if the valkan has made it through already or if it's days away."
"I figured we can just go into the camp and ask," Will said. "They don't know we don't have orders, and they probably won't question us."
"Wait, that's it?" Horace teased. "The great Will Treaty, the one who always has a plan, just wants to walk up and ask?" His voice dripped with false incredulity and Will rolled his eyes.
"Funny." He couldn't help but smile at the ribbing, particularly because Horace had been there on a few of his more…complicated plans.
He felt a pull on his shirt and saw Tug lipping the hem. "Ready to go, boy?" He didn't feel self-conscious about talking to Tug in front of Horace. It was a common thing to see. What he didn't always tell his friend was that Tug tended to answer back.
"Is Kicker ready?" Will asked.
The knight patted his horse's neck. "I think we can finish out the ride." The two of them got back into the saddles and kicked their mounts into a gentle lope. The thin line of tents grew larger and more distinct and Will realized how thin this particular regiment was. They had to pull soldiers from it to help supplement their forces at the front. It resulted in a sparse group of men to guard the watchtower.
Will looked around for sentries as they rode, but didn't see any. He also expected someone to come greet them, or at least check their credentials, but that didn't happen either. Will and Horace exchanged glances. Maybe it was a good thing there was no sense of alarm or urgency. It probably meant nothing tragic had happened.
In fact, it was Cassandra who suggested they send some of the injured soldiers here to recover. That way, they would still be doing their duty but they would also have a place to rest and get better. It wasn't all injured soldiers, in case Jeren did try something, but the regiment certainly wasn't the fittest of the Araluen army.
"Unacceptable," Horace muttered as the slowed up outside the first line of tents. "I need to have a talk with Varros. How could he let things get so lax?"
Will heard a shout as he scanned the camp and then there was movement as people started gravitating towards the newcomers. There were about ten men, their uniforms tattered and stained, and many weren't even wearing armor.
"I'm here to speak with General Varros," Will called, fishing out his oak leaf medallion so the soldiers could see it. Some of them glanced side-eyed at each other, murmuring.
"Varros is injured," a voice spoke from the back of the group. Will tightened his grip on Tug's reins every so slightly. A figure pushed through the milling soldiers. He sported the symbol of captain but Will didn't recognize him. "I can escort you to him, sirs."
Horace frowned. "Where is Captain Harrison?"
The man's face fell. "He was killed. A valkan attack, the same that injured the General. I took his place. Captain Jory, at your service," he saluted.
Will couldn't believe it; Harrison, dead? They had just communicated with him a week ago. He still expected Harrison to come walking up to them, smiling and offering them a drink. "When did this happen?"
"Please, sir, if you would let me escort you to the General, he can explain everything," Jory said.
Will dismounted and walked up to him, clutching Tug's reins. "Did you kill the valkan? Do you know where it was headed? Were there any more?"
Jory looked between Will and Horace, who had dismounted more slowly and was standing behind his friend. The captain held out his hands. "We managed to stop it, but other than that I'm not sure. General Varros can tell you more. If you'll follow me?"
Jory turned on his heel and pushed his way through the gathering of men. The crowd parted like water. The new captain didn't look back, expecting the Ranger and knight to follow. Will looked behind him, his eyebrows raised. Horace shrugged, but Will noticed he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword.
He had to agree with his friend, it was better to stay alert. They hadn't heard anything back at the main camp about an attack, or a change in leadership. But that could be attributed to slow communications. Nonetheless, Will kept his eyes moving, taking in all his surroundings. The people behind them didn't seem to disperse. Instead the closed back up behind them, forming a wall of bodies.
They walked in silence through the small camp and Will noticed he couldn't hear the usual jumble of voices or clink of utensils that accompanied a group of soldiers at rest. Every once in a while he throught he could hear buzzing, but it was so brief he could have imagined it. But before he could pinpoint the nosie, or ask Horace about it, Jory stopped in front of the General's tent, it's pennant still flying at the top. He stood to the side and bowed. "He's waiting inside. We can take care of your horses, and prepare a place for you while you talk."
"We're not staying long," Horace said. His voice was sharp and crisp, a tone Will didn't often hear from him. "Will, you go in. I'll wait out here. It's better not to crowd him."
It was hard for Will to keep his expression blank. He knew Horace wanted to discuss the security of the camp with Varros, not to mention check on the man's injuries. Horace was great at getting to know and talk with his men, and it was unlike him not to check on someone he knew was wounded. But if he wanted to stay out here, he had a good reason. Will nodded and signaled Tug to stay. Luckily, the Ranger ponies did not need to be restrained if given the right signal. This left Horace with one hand free if something went wrong.
Jory nodded and stepped back when Will pushed the flap aside and went in. The inside was dark but the smell that affronted him made his eyes water. He noticed a partition off to the side, separating the general's private quarters from the area where he would hold meetings. "General Varros?" Will called out. He pushed his hood back and listened, but only heavy silence answered. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he instinctively grabbed his saxe knife.
"General Varros, it's Will Treaty," he called again. His eyes darted around the dark corners of the tent but nothing stirred. A small desk was set up on the far left of the tent. A vase stood next to it, full to the brim with rolled up pieces of parchment. A portable hearth was collapsed on the ground, cold and unused for what looked like a long while. Will knelt and brushed his fingers on the ground. It was sticky with spilled oil. "Captain Jory brought me to see you," he looked up, checking all the corners.
He could feel his heart pounding a rapid rhythm beneath his chest, but he kept his breathing steady and his movements smooth. Fear was not a new feeling to him, but he was surprised he felt it now. He shouldn't have, not in the heart of an Araluen encampment.
Saxe knife in his right hand, he gripped the edge of the dividing sheet with his left, standing a little to the side. Will listened for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. The rank smell was stronger here and he tried to breath through his mouth to keep it at bay. He paused for a beat, and tightened the grip on his knife. Then he threw the sheet aside and darted into the General's private quarters.
The sight and smell made him gag. It was much stronger here, and Will hated to admit it but he was glad there was only dim lighting. A body lay on the cot, still and lifeless, eyes staring up at the sky in shock. "Varros," he breathed. Will realized that if he kept looking at Varros' face, he could almost ignore the missing throat and the blood-soaked clothing.
Will frowned, holding his cloak to his face to mask the smell. Jory had said the man was injured, and if that were the case it was always possible he could've died in the interim. But the throat was ripped out. There was no way he could have survived any time after the injury. But that would mean…
He heard a muffled shout, then a clash of metal on metal. Tug's angry neigh cut through the air. Will spun around in alarm, letting out a particularly vulgar Skandian curse word. He pushed the partition aside, desperate to get to Horace. He had left his friend out there, alone, with who knows how many enemies. He didn't know what exactly had happened, but right now his only goal was getting out of there alive.
"Will!" Horace shouted. His voice was a little overshadowed by the sounds of fighting. "I could use a little help out here!"
Will slung his longbow off his back, thankful he hadn't taken of his full quiver of arrows before coming in the tent. Outside he could hear Kicker neighing a challenge to any enemies. There had been about ten men who greeted them, and Horace could at least hold off that many, with Kicker and Tug's help, until Will lent Horace his assistance. But how many more could be hiding among the tents? And what had happened to their own men?
He had to think fast. He could just burst out, weapons blazing. But then they would be surrounded and he only had so many arrows. If the enemies got too close, his bow wouldn't be much help. Besides, Rangers worked better from the shadows, from an angle. He needed to get around them.
Will hefted his saxe knife and went to the back of the tent. He stabbed the metal point through the fabric and with a vicious yank ripped it down to the ground. He slipped out the makeshift back door and, using his cloak and the distraction of Horace's miniature battle in front, made his way down a few tents and back around.
"Get in there!" he heard Jory shouting, from a convenient place at the back of the group. "You idiots can't get through one man?"
Will clenched his teeth and placed an arrow to the string. The arrow flew silently through the air. Jory's shout was cut off with only the faintest gurgle before his body collapsed to the ground.
He was on the move before the others could pinpoint where the arrow came from. He ran from tent to tent, firing arrows into the mob and creating confusion. At least the tents provided concealment. Horace wielded his sword, laying out attackers left and right. Kicker had no trouble helping his master, rearing up and flailing his powerful hooves at anyone stupid enough to go near him. Tug was backed against the tent, his legs stock straight and nostrils flaring. His ears were perked forward and he looked ready to bolt. But if someone came close he would kick out with uncanny speed, shattering bone before anyone had realized what happened.
One by one the attackers fell. Not many more had joined the fight from the original ten that greeted them. But something was still bothering Will. How could such a small force have overrun the Araluen camp?
Horace was standing off against the last two soldiers. He didn't seem to be breathing hard, but Will noticed a gouge on his cheek. The three of them were completely still, eyes locked on each other. Then something in the air changed. In an unspoken signal the two enemies attacked. Horace retreated quickly, angling his sword to block. He only had one weapon on hand but he moved like water, smooth and fluid. The other two's movements were getting choppy and desperate. They seemed to realize that maybe they had taken on more than they could handle. But Will couldn't take the chance that Horace would falter. Will brought his bow up, sighting down the arrow's shaft and waited for the perfect opportunity. They only needed one person alive to question.
His breathing was slow and steady and his concentration was all on the shot. Will watched the rhythm of the fight, matching his breaths to the counts. Beat by beat he synced with the fighters and he felt a bit of exhilaration when he realized couldn't miss. He was about to release when out of the corner of his eye he saw Tug's head shoot up in alarm.
Something large and heavy slammed into him from behind. Will flew off his feet and fell to the ground, getting a face-full of dirt and grass. He felt the arrow had been about to shoot snap beneath him and heard the snap of the arrow string breaking.
Horace yelled as Will rolled to the side, desperately trying to avoid whatever blow might be coming from above. When he got to his feet, moving into a crouch, he saw what it was that had hit him and his veins ran cold. He should have known.
The valkan grinned at him. It's fur was matted with dried blood and as Will watched it slowly licked the claws on its hands clean. "Will Treaty," it said, it's voice sounding like rocks grinding together. "It is an honor."
"So this was you," he said. A part of him was surprised at how much hate he could hear in his own voice. Never before had he felt something so strongly. But deep down, he knew—he hated these creatures.
The creature shrugged. "Me, and your brother rodents who follow our master," it said. "I wanted a bit of fun before completing my assignment. It's much more exciting than simply sneaking through. Though, to be honest, I was hoping for more of a fight."
"You'll get one," he threatened. Will drew his saxe knife and his throwing knife, getting ready. "You won't make it out of here alive."
The valkan laughed. "Ah, I wish you were my assignment. Unfortunately," it bared its teeth, red eyes glittering. It drew out an ugly short sword from a scabbard at its side. This was the first time Will had seen them use a weapon. "I have another target."
The valkan lunged and Will barely had time to knock the blade away with his weapons. He tried to leap forward and close in on the creature's unprotected side, but the creature leaned back and he missed. Will dodged another jab of the sword, and ducked underneath it. He swiped the saxe knife at it's belly. The valkan hissed and Will grinned when he realized he scored a hit.
The two of them disengaged and circled each other. The valkan touched a claw to the scratch Will made. It licked the blood away and then snarled. It came at Will with an underhand slash and he jumped back out of its reach. But the creature pressed his advantage and kept swinging, leaving no room for Will to get in close where his shorter weapons would be effective.
The valkan whirled the sword around its head and then brought it down in an overhead swing. Will caught the blade between his two knives. He knew he was in trouble. The wolf-like creatures were bred for speed and strength and were much heavier than he. The muscles in the valkan's arm bulged as he pressed his advantage. Will could feel his feet sliding inch by inch under the pressure. He had one shot to get out of this situation.
Will bent his knees for extra leverage and then surged upwards, thrusting the weapon away from him. In the split second where the valkan was unguarded Will brought down his saxe knife and stabbed the valkan. The blade sank into the creature's flesh and then the tip bounced off bone. He could feel the hilt vibrate in his hand. The creature howled in pain and Will tried to finish it off with his throwing knife, but in the heat of the battle he forgot about the creature's main weapon: it's claws.
He felt them punch through the thin fabric of his shirt and into his side, but he didn't feel anything but cold. Then pain flared in white-hot ribbons as the claws ripped through his flesh and down his leg, scrapping bone digging into the thick muscle of his thigh. The claws tore free and left four gaping tears in his body. Will screamed and his leg buckled. He fell to one knee, determined to remain as upright as possible.
"Will!" he heard Horace's terrified yell behind him, but his vision was taking up by the furious valkan leering down at him. Using up the rest of his quickly fading energy, Will stabbed the throwing knife into the valkan's abdomen. The thing yelped and snarled, yanking both weapons out and tossing them aside. It didn't even seem to register the fact that it was wounded, but Will knew that at least the last knife had done some internal damage. Even if he died now, he would take that thing with him.
A hand grabbed him around his throat and he felt the claws prick the back of his neck. "I wish I could finish you off right now," it growled at him. "But your little brat Ranger is waiting for me." Will's eyes widened and he could feel the valkan's rumbling chuckle. "She may have defeated the pup the master sent after her first, but I want you to know…I'm going to make her beg for mercy before the end. Oh, and you may want to get out of here soon. The master is sending another group of rodents this way. If you can walk, that is."
The valkan shoved Will to the ground. He didn't see it run off but suddenly Horace was there, pressing something to the wounds in his side. "I'm going to kill every single on of those bastards," Horace rumbled. "Gorlog's beard, Will." His hand shook a little as he ripped pieces of cloth from his shirt and bound Will's seeping wounds.
"Horace," Will said, placing a hand on his friend's arm. "Jeren is sending more men. This was just an initial strike."
Horace stopped ministering for a moment as he registered what Will was telling him. "They'll come at us from behind," he murmured. "We thought all their forces were at the front. If they hit us without warning...that could be it."
"We have to warn everyone," Will said, grimacing as a fresh wave of pain moved through his body. He started to wobble and Horace grabbed him.
"We have to get you back," his friend said firmly. "You're riding with me, there is no way you are staying in the saddle the whole way back."
"I'm fine," he snapped. But when Horace got him on his feet his vision turned fuzzy for a moment and he couldn't get his balance.
"Yeah, you're 'fine'." Horace said, supporting Will so he wouldn't fall. It wasn't hard to hear the sarcasm in his friend's voice. "You are always fine, aren't you, until you pass out from blood loss!"
Will thought that part might not be too far off. He tried to help Horace get him into Kicker's saddle, but his arms didn't seem to have their usual strength. He could feel the blood seeping through whatever bandages Horace had put on. Beside them, Tug nickered in concern.
"Come on, Tug," Horace said. "Let's get Will out of here."
Horace spurred his horse and they left the destroyed and slaughtered camp behind them. If Jeren really had forces coming this way, and they could no longer rely on the regiment of loyal Araluen forces, then they were in even more trouble than anyone realized.
Will closed his eyes against the pain that spiked when Kicker's hooves hit the ground. The watchtower receded as they put one mile and then two between them and the gateway as fast as possible. I'm sorry, Marian, Will thought. His body started to realize that passing out might not be such a bad idea, and it might even ease the guilt in his mind for a little while. I failed. Please, I hope you're safe.