Yeah, I know I suck for not updating, I have been told and I am sorry. But I did warn you I would not be good at this. I just promised I would not drop the story.

When reading other fanfics, I noticed they had disclaimers at the beginning of every chapter. I am not going to bother doing that. This once should do.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ranger's Apprentice series.

I don't think I have to repeat that but I suppose I should go back and put it at the beginning of the very first chapter.

Chapter 25

Rescued?

Christiana started slightly when Will laid a hand on her arm.

"What?"

He smiled slightly at her startled look. She had been so into her story that she had almost forgotten the world around them completely. He could hardly blame her. He had been sitting still for the past while, completely spell bound by her story.

"Sorry to cut you off, but it looks like Evanlyn has scent us lunch."

She looked up. A maid was making their way across the grounds to them, a tray in her hands.

"Ranger Treaty," the maid said, bobbing a little curtsey when she reached them. "Sir," she said, doing the same to Christiana, who blinked in bafflement.

Before she could say a word the maid had placed the tray on the table beside her and Will, curtsied once more and walked away.

Will laughed at the expression on her face. "Not used to being called 'sir' are you?"

He only laughed more when she shook her head.

Christiana watched him for a moment before changing the subject. She felt another question on the tip of her tongue but she held it back. It was not her business why Will's surname name was Treaty.

Instead she looked at the tray. It was a simple lunch. A pot of soup, a bowl of fruit, a loaf of fresh bread, butter, some red jam, a jar or honey and two pitchers, one of which had something that was steaming slightly. At the sight of it Will's eyes lit up.

"Oh, thank you Evanlyn," he said as he reached for the pitcher and one of the cups, pouring a healthy amount of steaming liquid for himself. She stared. The liquid was so brown it was almost black. A strange smell penetrated her nose making her lean back. It was not entirely unpleasant, just foreign.

"What is that?" she was unable to keep the wary tone out of her voice.

The look her gave her was one of horror, as if she had just said a filthy word.

"Don't tell me you have never had coffee before."

She blinked. Cofi, in her language, meant sour milk. She eyed the liquid, if possible, more warily than before.

He quickly poured a second cup and all but shoved it into her hands.

"You have no truly lived until you have tasted coffee," he said.

Hesitantly she stared down at the liquid in her cup. The heat and the color reminded her of a chocolate, which, in her country, was melted and added with milk and sugar to make a pleasant drink.

Slowly she raised it to her lips and tipped the hot liquid into her mouth. At first she could taste nothing past the brisk heat, then, slowly, the bitter taste seeped onto her tongue. She just managed to stop herself from spitting the liquid back into the cup but her throat seemed to have close up, making it impossible for her to swallow.

Finally she managed to force it down. Shuddering as she felt the heat slip down her throat into her stomach.

Will was watched her with a mixed expression of disgruntlement, concern and amusement, as her face went red and she doubled over coughing.

"That looked painful," he finally said mildly.

She glared up at him. "You are trying to poison me," she accused.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Your land must breed strange people indeed if you don't like the taste of coffee."

"In my country cofi is soiled milk," she snapped.

"My point exactly."

Her eyes narrowed further, she opened her mouth to growl at him but snapped it shut it again just as quickly. She had to careful not to insult him, this man was the only one had on her side.

Will watched as Chris's face closed up and he could not help feeling disappointed. For a second he had seen the Chris that Redmond had told him about and he himself had seen. A Chris that was quick, sharp, spirited and witty.

Will smiled slightly. For a while he had been worried that that Chris had been killed along with Redmond. But he had seen glimpses of him since then and was sure, with time, he would come back.

Christiana saw Will's expression soften and she frowned, wondering what he was thinking. Shaking her head she reached for the food. They ate in silence, Christiana keeping away from the coffee though Will guzzled it happily, stirring handfuls of honey now and then.

"I do not remember much after that. I remember that I drifted on the yard for several days. I only remember vaguely being pulled ashore and woke up in a small farm house."

"Who pulled you out."

"I did not figure out that until later."

Flashback

Christiana scrambled to keep a grip on the yard. Waves crashed around her and lightning roared. Once again she in the midst of a raging storm, but the danger was not only above and around her, it was also below.

Dorsal fins knifed through the water around her, appearing only a few feet away only to disappear just as suddenly. Something brushed against her leg. Something with skin that was rough and scratchy like sand stone.

An enormous wall of water exploded in front of her, towering high above her. The water fell away revealing the shape and an humongous shark. Slowly, it bent and fell strait for her, mouth open wide to reveal hundreds of sharp teeth.

A flash of blinding lightning and a deafening boom of thunder was the last thing she heard before the giant mouth closed around her.

A scream was torn from her lungs as she shot up right. The blankets billowed around her, thrown forward by her abrupt movement. Gasping for breath and with cold sweat trickling down her neck she looked around her in complete confusion.

She was in an attic bedroom. Above her the ceiling sloped on either side and met at a point. She lay on a straw mattress with thick, patchwork quilts around her. Confused and disoriented she tried to remember how she had gotten there. Her head felt heavy and she couldn't seem to hang on to any one thought before it was swept away by another.

A sound to her right startled her. Leaping right out of her nest of blankets she was against the wall in moments, facing the newest threat.

It was a women. Her hair was iron gray and her face was lined with wrinkles. For a bewildering moment Christiana thought for sure that the woman's legs were missing. Only a closer look showed that half of the woman's body disappeared down a hatch.

The women spoke but Christiana could not understand what she was saying. It sounded familiar but her spinning head and foggy thoughts would not allow her to understand.

She shook her head, trying to clear it enough to focus. The woman's face blurred and her legs gave out from under her as she collapsed to the ground, shivering.

Thin, bony but strong hands were on her now. Firmly she was lifted her to her feet and led back to the bed. She was gently laid back down on the bed and the blanket was tucked in around her. Almost instantly her eyelids drifted shut as a wet cool cloth was placed on her fevered brow. A soft voice, low and reassuring, filled her ears, lulling her back to sleep.

(the words in bold are the words in the Araluen language / - - - - words Christiana cannot understand)

This went off and on for a long time. It could have been days, weeks, or just hours, but she would drift in and out of conscience. Sometimes screaming and drenched in sweat from her most recent nightmare. Usually she would see the older women again who would comfort her and coax some gruel or herbal mixture down her throat before she once again passed into oblivion.

Finally she opened her eyes and blinked. Something was different. Her head still felt odd but it was clear of the stifling fog that had been suppressing her thoughts.

'How did I get here?' she wondered as she once again look around the attic loft. Frowning in concentration she browsed her hazy memories from after she fell of the ship. She remembered, floating for three maybe four days on the open ocean. Searching for any signs of a ship or land but all that surrounded her was the open ocean. After that, she could hardly remember anything as the lack of food and water as well as exposure to the elements wore away at her body until she was sure she would loose her mind.

There was something though, she wasn't sure if it was memory or dream but she thought she remembered splashing and rough hands pulling her off the yard that she clung to. Being dragged through the water and the feel of rough sand on her arms and face as she was dropped in the sand. Weakly she had raised her head to see a man towering over her with dark hair, a handsome face and broad shoulders.

Airic.

Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as she fought to clear her thoughts. Airic was dead, buried in a criminals grave somewhere in her homeland.

Then who had pulled her out of the ocean and where?

Slowly she pushed the blankets off and got to her feet. For a moment the attic spun and tilted around her but she remained up right.

On trembling legs she made her way to the hatch way. Steep stairs led down. Keeping one hand against the wall to steady herself she carefully stepped down and stopped looking down at herself. She wore thick, woolen socks and a large night shirt that was made for someone three times as big as she was. The neckline was slipping off one of her shoulders. Her chest was unbound.

Shaking her head she descended the stairs slowly, watching her feet. Only once she reached the floor did she look around.

She was in a small hut. There was a fireplace and cooking area to her right, a table for four next to it. On her left was a small sitting area with a bench made out of pine wood and covered with cloth. Two doors led to the outside and she guessed to a bedroom.

A few windows had their shutters open letting the sun pour into the room. Dust, turned into dancing lights by the sun, drifted in and out of the beams.

The door opened and she tensed.

A man stood in front of her. His hair and thick beard was completely white and his face lined. Yet, despite his obvious age, he had a torso like a trunk of a tree and large, calloused hands. His skin was a light, nut brown from years of working out in the harsh sun.

This was a man who knew how to work and work hard. For a while they just looked at each other. His face was hard and disapproving as he looked her over.

She jumped startled when there was a explanation of excitement and turned to see the older women emerge from the bedroom. She hurried up to the confused girls side, jabbering away in that language that sounded familiar, but in her foggy state, she could not make out a word.

The man said something gruffly to his wife and she stopped, looking between him and Christiana before taking a breath and spoke again, more slowly. This time, Christiana was able to make out words.

The women was asking how she felt.

"I am well," she stumbled through the strange tongue.

The women smiled but the old man frowned and snapped a question at her, asking if she was from here.

She shook her head. "Home far away."

Before they could say anything else she held up a hand. "H-How get here?"

She watched closely as the two exchanged looks.

"- - - man brought - - - here," the women said.

The image of the broad shouldered man she vaguely remembered passed through her mind. Was that who had brought her here? If so, why?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the man spoke again.

"He said - - - - - - back in - - - - - for you."

So, he was coming back.

The man spoke to her again, his eyes distrusting and wary but she could hardly make out any of the words. Something about the man who had brought her here.

A strange roaring filled her ears as her knees trembled as the strength fled from her limbs. The women rushed forward as the girls face drained of color. Grabbing her arm she led her to one of the chairs and sat her down, speaking softly to her.

"We take care - - - until he returns."

She opened her mouth to protest but shut it once more. She was helpless and she knew it. Without weapons, without money, and not knowing the language very well here, she would not last long on her own.

Her thoughts were once more becoming fuzzy and her vision dimmed. Before falling to sleep once more she looked up at the two faces.

"Thank you," she whispered before falling asleep once more.

(two weeks later, Araluen no longer in bold because she understands better)

Christiana clenched her teeth, sweat beading on her face as every muscle strained. Her breath came in ragged pants and her fingers ached from holding on so tight. Shifting she prepared for one last gallant effort before tightening her grip and…..pulled.

The stubborn weed finally popped out of the ground, flinging a fountain of dirt strait into her face as she lurched backwards and fell on her backside.

She let out a stream of curses in her own tongue, brushing the dirt from her cloths. Actually, these days, it was only when she was cursing did she use her language. For the past couple weeks she had been speaking and learning what she now knew now was the Araluen language.

"Plant's don't have ears, you know? It does no good to insult them," a familiar gruff voice said.

She looked over her shoulder at Henry, the old farmer.

She made a face at him. "Make me feel better." She replied back in still halting Araluen.

It was lucky for her that as a child she had been taught various languages. It had made her able to understand and learn them quickly. Thanks to Farn she had already known the basics of this language. Now she could understand almost every word in Araluen though she still struggled a little while speaking it.

His mouth quirked at the corner. "Sure it does."

He surveyed the garden. "Managed to avoid pulling up any of the potatoes, I see."

"Easy now they bigger," she said as she tossed the difficult weed into a wooden bucket with the rest of the ones she had been pulling up in the garden for the past three hours.

"Dressing up as a boy again I see."

"Yes. Easier to work in pants."

It was true. Sara, Henry's wife, had made her new cloths, as her old one has been damaged beyond repair.

He eyed her critically. "I do not approve of someone pretending to be something they are not."

"I have to, girl not move freely in world alone."

He frowned. "You do not need to be a boy while you are here. Your not alone anymore."

She looked at him in surprise.

"Henry, I not staying. I need find my friends. I not do that as girl."

The old farmer face hardened. Taking the bucket he walked away. She sighed. Henry was gruff and a very blunt person but he had a good heart and she knew that he and Sara had come to care about her over the past few weeks. That they wanted her to stay.

But she couldn't. Not if there was still hope that her friends were still alive. As soon as she was finished working off her debt to them, she would go look for the Cora and her crew.

Shaking her head she strode over to where she had left the bow she had made last week. There had been little need for her archery while she was at sea but now that she was back on land, her bow was a key tool for her survival. If she could get the stupid thing to shoot right. She was close. A few more adjustments and it would be close to what she wanted. It would not be a great bow but at least it was something to work with.

She picked up the few arrows she had managed to make. It had taken a few tries but she had made several goods ones. Arrows, at least, she had the skills and knowledge to make well.

Going to the edge of the field she fitted an arrow to the string, aimed at the old stump she had been practicing on for a weak and fired.

The arrow flew exactly where the bow shot it, but the imperfect bow did not shoot where she was aiming. The arrow flew a few feet right and above the target. Taking note where the arrow landed she sat and fiddled with the bow and string for a moment then tried again.

The arrow slammed into the trunk. Not quiet where she wanted but close enough. After a few more shots she quickly learned that the bow shot slightly to the right of where she was aiming. As long as she aimed slightly left of the target, it would hit where she wanted.

Retrieving her arrows she tested her theory.

The first was off but the second hit right where she wanted. Swiveling in place she fixed her eyes on an oak and hit a knot half way up. Aiming higher she sliced a thin branch off the trunk.

Straitening she smiled in satisfaction.

Slow clapping interrupted her triumphant. Whirling around she turned to face the sound, and blinked.

A man stood in front of her. He was very tall with a handsome face and dark hair that reached down to broad shoulders. Dark blue eyes were fixed on her as he finished his slow applause.

"You seemed to have recovered well."

She eyed him warily.

"Who you?" she said.

He tilted his head at the sound of her accent.

"So you are a foreigner. I thought as much when I had my men pull you from the ocean."

"You saved me?"

He nodded. "Yes I did. I brought you here personally."

Some of her tension and fear disappeared. It was thanks to this man that she was still here. She was very glad to see him. There were many questions she needed to ask him. But first...

She bowed. "Thank you, sir. I in your debt."

He smiled. "Polite, I see. Not something you find in the young generation these days."

Unsure what to say to that she gave another bow.

"How can I repay you?"

"I am glad you asked."

She straitened.

"You see, I am about to start a little operation, and I could use a smart, skilled lad like you in it."

Her stomach released a knot of tension as she recognized the word lad. He thought she was male. Which was exactly what she hoped he would think.

"I have little skill, sir

"Your young, that is true, but you use your head. That is something I could use."

"I want repay you. But need to find friends," she said hastily before he could go any further.

For a moment she thought she saw his dark eyes flash coldly, but it was gone so fast she could have imagined it.

"Friends?

"I was on ship. Big storm separate us. Need to find them."

He smiled, like an adult smiling at a silly child. "How do you intend to find them by remaining here. You have no money, you do not know this country, or its people. How have nothing. If you join me and help me, I will give you what resources you need to find your friends. I have many contacts. If they survived, it should not be hard to find them."

She hesitated, unsure. She was not sure she trusted this man, something about him made her uneasy. There was and edge to this man, something that told her he was dangerous.

But, she needed to find her friends and he was right, she could not do that from here. Besides, if he had wanted to do her harm, he would have left her to die in the ocean.

"Very well, I will help you."

The man smiled and held out his hand. "Very good."

"I am Chris."

"I look forward to working with you, Chris. My name is Watharen."

"Only later would I come to fear and hate Watharen as much as I do now," Christiana said to Will. "When I left Sara and Henry he was careful to remain the kind stranger that had rescued me."

She scowled.

"I was stupid. Blind with desire to find my friends and gratitude for saving my life I did whatever he told me. For a long time he kept me separate from the Ravens, easing me into their way of life so I would not see what they were doing. I just trusted blindly. By the time I learned that they were thieves I was too far in to run away. I was watched and threatened constantly. Soon he found other ways to get me to do what he wanted. Being more merciful to the people he attacked. Then Redmond."

Her fists clenched. "I am a fool."

Will was silent for a long time. "No, I do not think you are."

She gave him a dubious look.

"Your a kid, Chris. I know it is not exactly what you want to hear but you are. Watharen has most likely had years of practice of manipulating people."

"He used my weaknesses to manipulate me," she snapped.

"You are compassionate, Chris." he corrected "Watharen used that to control you."

She scowled but did not retaliate. She did not want to argue with him.

"You know most of the rest of the story. After we captured Redmond, he used him to make me cooperate. Together me and Redmond planned an escape, which you showed up half way through."

He nodded.

"Did you ever learn news of your crew?"

With a heavy heart, she shook her head.

Silence fell over them. She had told her story, now it was up to Will whether he believed it or not. As she waited for him to speak she thought back on the events for the past few months.

It still did not make sense to her why Watharen went to such lengths to control her. There was no reason for it. She was skilled with a bow but there had been a few of the Renegades that were far superior. She was quick of mind but she lacked the cunning, feral edge that Watharen and Leven needed to run their monstrous plans. They could not trust her, for they knew she hated them. Not to mention, she was young, barely above a child.

All in all, she had been more of an hindrance. For what purpose had Watharen wanted her?

It did not make sense.

"So, do you believe me?"

For a moment Will was silent, his eyes distant. "Huh? Oh yes, I do. I actually believed you were innocent ever since Redmond said you were."

"What?" she gasped.

He grinned sadly. "Redmond was a friend of mine and had the best judgment when it came to character. If he said you were trustworthy, then I am sure you are."

He laughed at the expression on her face as she gaped at him.

"Then why did you have me tell you my story if you knew I was innocent."

His expression became serious. "A lot of this does not make sense Chris. We know that Watharen wants the throne and he had some kind of plan in place. I was hoping knowing your story would help us understand what he was aiming for but all it has done is rise more questions than it answered."

"Hmmm, sounds a typical situation. No matter what answers I had, you always had a million questions to follow," a dry voice said from behind them.

Christiana's heart leaped in her chest as she threw herself off her seat and whirled to face their unexpected visitor.

A older man eyed her from the shadows of the willow. Trying to slow her racing heart she examined him. He was short, shorter than Will with hair that was once dark but was now streaked with iron gray. His hair and beard were uneven and unruly and his dark eyes were shrewd as he looked back at her. Like will, he wore a multicolored gray and green cloak with a long bow slung on his back with a quiver of arrows. A double scabbard hung from his belt.

How had he snuck up on them.

Will did not seem at all startled by the man's sudden appearance. He smiled warmly.

"Hello Halt. What are you doing here?"

"I was nearby when I heard about you returning the castle with a bunch of bandits. Thought I would come to make sure you finish everything."

Will laughed, hugging the man. "You just want to be part of the action."

"When your involved is no action, just chaos."

Christiana stared at the two of them, unsure what to do.

"Oh, Chris, this is Halt my old mentor," Will said, remembering that she was there. "Halt this is Chris, the boy who I rescued from the bandits in question."

"I already know the basics Will," Halt said gruffly. He looked her up and down critically. "You look to young to be the bandit sort."

"And you look to old to be a Ranger," she said without thinking then clamped her mouth shut, mortified. Something about this man gruff nature was so like old Henry's that she had completely forgotten who she was talking to.

There was a beat of silence then Will snorted, shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Halt glared at him. "His whit matches yours it seems. In other words he has none."

Will only chortled.

Once more a sarcastic response threatened to jump out of her mouth but she bit it back. If she did not get it together she was going to have Will's teacher out to get her.

"Will, when you are quiet finished, your both wanted in the dudgeon."

Instantly Will was serious.

"Watharen?"

Halt nodded. "It seems he has made a request."

"What is it?" Christiana could not stop herself from asking.

Halt fixed her with a level gaze.

"He wants to talk to you."

Yep, another cliff hanger. I know, I am a jerk since I owe you more chapters than this. I hope to write some more tomorrow. If you had any thoughts while reading, review. If not, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.