Chapter 25

"A rotting corpse?" I repeated, revolted at the prospect.

"Human or animal?" Edmund asked as Halt covered his nose as well.

"We should probably go and see," Halt said, dismounting and checking that his weapons were at easy reach and ready to use. I took that as a sign that there was a real possibility of danger.

I looked at Edmund and I knew that he had seen it as well. We both dismounted and followed Halt. Wolf padded along beside me, but the horses stay put, quieting down a little now that the initial shock had worn off.

"Be ready," I murmured to Wolf.

"For any sign of danger," he finished my sentence. I smiled slightly at my dog who I could imagine grinning back at me.

As we approached the cabin, the smell got worse. I felt like throwing up. It surrounded me and made me feel dirty. I wanted to run away and bathe in fragrant soap – but another part of me was curious as to what could be causing the horrendous smell.

"Breathe through your mouth," Halt advised under his breath.

We made our way up the three steps to the porch, where a rocking chair sat haphazardly – as if it had been kicked on someone's way out.

Halt fingered the door knob and motioned for us to be silent. The door was unlocked and swung open with a screech on unoiled hinges. I flinched at the noise, but Halt seemed to be expecting it. I became aware of a humming noise, a monotonous humming that for some reason I couldn't place.

Immediately the smell intensified and I felt like I was drowning in the smell of a rotting corpse. I made a face. Edmund saw it and raised an eyebrow – since I guess a chuckle would break the silence rule.

Halt stepped inside first and we followed. I stopped mid-step as my eyes widened in both horror and disgust.

There in the middle of the living room lay a man – who I assumed to be Ranger Victor – surrounded in a pool of dried blood with a thick crossbow bolt protruding from the centre of his chest. So too revealed was the source of the humming drone. Flies, hundreds and hundreds of flies, coated the fallen Ranger like a grotesque, living blanket.

"He's dead," Edmund stated the obvious, walking to the corpse to inspect it alongside Halt.

"Murdered. Probably been dead for weeks judging by the strength of the smell," Halt cited grimly.

"And the flies," I added weakly.

I remained in my spot at the doorway, not wanting to move any closer. I could feel bile at the back of my throat and tried to swallow it down.

"He's been dead three weeks," Wolf informed me.

"How lovely," I responded quietly.

"Do you think the murderer is around?" Edmund asked and I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see a twin of Warren ready to pounce with a loaded crossbow. All I saw was that the sun would be setting in a couple of hours, and the three horses standing some distance away.

"Probably long gone," Halt said. "But we should be on the lookout."

"Can we go now?" I said with a frown. "We can't give the letter to him, since he's dead and I feel really sick."

Halt frowned at my complaint but seemed to understand. "We should give him a proper burial first. Edmund, see if you can find a shovel in the stables at the back. Mon, go with him and see to Victor's horse."

We both nodded and hurried through the back of the house to the back door. I saw that there was a cup on the kitchen bench, half full of cold, three-week-old coffee. The sadness of the sight was overwhelming.

Behind the cabin was a small stable, little more than a shelter for a horse, and in it we found a little shaggy beast that seemed lost. At our approach it raised its head in acknowledgement and then went back to grazing.

"Poor horse," I said jogging over and stroking the horse's mane, feeling sorry for the beast that had been left like this for three weeks.

"Poor Ranger Victor," Edmund said, patting the horse as well.

"How horrible." I shivered. I had seen dead bodies before – recently Antonio and Biff – but not rotting corpses, which I decided were infinitely worse.

"Why would anyone want to kill him?" Edmund asked no one in particular as he looked around the stable for a shovel. He found one hanging on a nail on the back wall and took it.

"To have the local Ranger out of the way for whatever's going on in Caraway," I answered, instantly connecting the dots.

"Hmm…I guess. I hate all this kidnap and death and threat of invasion," Edmund sighed. I found a rope and put it around the horse's head so that I could lead her to the front. I wasn't even going to try to mount her – I rubbed my back, remembering what had happened last time.

We walked around the side and met Halt out the front. He was dragging a bundle of white sheets gently behind him and it took me second to realise that Victor's corpse must be inside. The bile began to creep up my throat again.

"Where should I dig?" Edmund asked, looking around the small clearing.

"Not too close to the cabin, but not too far either," Halt answered, continuing to drag the corpse gently.

Edmund walked a few paces further from the cabin where the ground looked soft and began to dig. I watched in fascination as his strong muscles made quick work of the job. He looked so attractive doing hard work. I slapped the thought aside, instantly annoyed at my mind and its inappropriate wanderings.

"I'll find a gravestone," I said and Halt nodded.

"Take Wolf with you," he advised, "and be on the lookout for danger."

"Come on, Wolf," I said, following Halt's instruction. If he thought that I should be on the lookout then it must be very dangerous.

"Fresh air," Wolf sighed with relief when we had gone some distance.

"It must be infinitely worse for you," I sympathised.

"It is. Where do you think we'll find a stone?" Wolf asked.

"I have no idea. Maybe a river?"

"Seems as good a place as any to look," Wolf replied and began directing me to where he said he could hear a stream flowing. As we got closer I could hear it as well. It looked like it was a tributary that flowed to the Slipsunder, much like the Baugh River, except it was on the other side of town.

I knelt down and let the cool water flow over my hands, gasping slightly. I was careful not to kneel in mud, not wanting to get dirty. The stream had many stones lining its base that had been made smooth from years of water flow. I picked one that looked about the size of a gravestone and attempted to lift it up. For a second it was lodged in dirt, but as I pulled harder it came out. I lifted it through the water easily, but the problem came when it broke free of the surface.

"Gorlog!" I said as I stumbled and my arms were weighed down. The stone was heavy! I had made the idiot mistake of not realising that of course the stone was lighter when it was underwater.

"You like that profanity, don't you?" Wolf mused.

"Do you want to carry it?" I said, still struggling. I managed to hold the stone against my hip, which lessened the weight.

"There we go," I said, hitching it higher as I began walking back, Wolf in tow.

"I was just about to go looking for you." Halt said, looking over his shoulder at me.

"Thought you got lost or something," Edmund said as he patted the fresh dirt mound and lay the shovel aside. I was glad that the body was buried. It didn't smell as much anymore. I placed the stone at the head of the mound – being careful not to walk through it and disturb Victor's last resting place.

"What are you going to engrave on it?" I asked.

"I didn't know the man well, so maybe just Ranger Victor?" Halt said.

"What about: Ranger Victor. New line. Died a noble death for his country. New line. He will be remembered and cherished in our hearts forever," Edmund offered. Halt and I looked at each other and raised an eyebrow. I would have laughed but it didn't seem appropriate.

"What?"

"Do you want to engrave all that…that..." Halt struggled to find a word to describe it, "poetic nonsense on the headstone? You're just as bad as Will and his fulsomeness!"

Edmund snickered and I frowned, not understanding the inside joke.

"I am not that bad!" Edmund countered. "But it would be nice to commemorate Victor's sacrifice."

"Well if you want to engrave it, go ahead," Halt said. "You'll be here 'til the sun goes down – next week."

"No, I thought you could do it, Halt," Edmund answered, his face completely straight as I snickered quietly. "After all, you are quite the expert with you saxe and its many uses." Edmund inconspicuously touched his slight stubble, earning a glare from Halt.

Halt scoffed. "I am not engraving all that. If you want it, do it yourself!"

"Fine, Ranger Victor will have to do," Edmund relented as Halt got to work.

† † †

Halt stood back, admiring the rather crude markings on the stone that must have read 'Ranger Victor'.

Edmund smirked. "So you went with the 'died a hero' like I suggested."

Halt just ignored him and turned to me. "It's time we gathered some more information. Mon, you and I will go to Caraway to the docks and see if we can learn anything from there."

"What about me?" Edmund asked with a frown.

"You can stay here and search Victor's cabin for anything useful," Halt replied.

"You want me to loot his cabin?!" Edmund asked, incredulous. I frowned. It did seem a rather odd and disrespectful thing to suggest – not that I was a moral authority, being an ex-thief.

Halt rolled his eyes slightly. "As in papers or a murder weapon." Light dawned in our eyes. Halt shook his head in response. "Young people these days."

"Why do I have to go into the smelly cabin?" Edmund whined.

"Because it matches with your scent," I answered instantly.

"Ha ha," Edmund said, mock glaring at me.

"No wonder I don't like him," Wolf said, taking a step away from Edmund as I smirked.

"You're going in because we're going to be sneaking around and we don't want a bumbling noisy knight making a huge racket," Halt said.

"Fine," Edmund sniffed, "I know when I'm not wanted."

"Good," I replied.

"Useful skill to have," Halt added as he jerked his thumb towards the woods. "We'll go without the horses. Practice some silent movement."

Halt walked lightly away, out of the clearing, and I followed him, having to look closely since his unseen abilities were uncanny. I also suspected that the bits I could see of Halt were purposeful on his part so that I wouldn't lose him. That didn't exactly help my self-esteem.

"Don't worry, I can smell him out if we lose him," Wolf assured me.

"I think I would rather do it myself," I said.

"Smell him out? I'm sorry to tell you, Mon, but I don't think that small pointy nose of yours could do the job." Wolf smirked.

"Idiot," I replied with a grin, swatting Wolf's tail.

"Ranger and soon to be apprentice," I heard Edmund sigh in exasperation from in the clearing. "Leave me alone with only horses for company."

"Poor Edmund," I said to Wolf.

"You're his girlfriend, you should be keeping him company instead of blundering around the countryside with a grizzled old Ranger," Wolf replied.

I made a face at Wolf and walked around a particularly wide tree and almost bashed straight into a grim, hooded figure. I bit back a scream, realising it was Halt.

"Oh, it's just you," I said.

"You should be paying attention to your surroundings," Halt chastised. "It's not good for you to walk straight into me. You should have seen me, especially since I was going easy on you."

I hung my head in shame and annoyance at myself. Just because I felt somewhat safe, didn't mean I should slack off. I mentally hit myself.

"Sorry, Halt," I said, looking him straight in the eye, knowing that he deserved eye contact in my apology. Halt just grunted.

"And walking around like a blundering black bear, while talking to your dog!" Halt continued, "Were you even thinking?"

"That was stupid of me." My cheeks burned in embarrassment. I hated disappointing Halt.

"It takes only one stupid mistake," Halt said gently.

"I shouldn't have made the mistake in the first place," I apologised.

"There's nothing wrong with making mistakes," Halt said and I looked up surprised at his words. "Everyone makes them, including me. Making a stupid mistake doesn't make you an idiot. Making a stupid mistake twice, however, makes a person an idiot."

I nodded at the wisdom in Halt's words.

"I won't do it again," I vowed.

"Better not," Halt warned. "I don't want to have an idiot future apprentice."

I smiled. "You won't."

† † †

Halt and I crept through the undergrowth at the edge of the town of Caraway. It was around dusk and many people walked through the streets, heading home after a day of hard work. Halt flipped back his cowl and motioned for me to do the same.

"The best way to avert suspicion is to act as if we belong in Caraway," Halt said.

I nodded. It made sense. If we pretended that our reason for being in Caraway was perfectly normal, we would be less likely to be called to explain ourselves. However, if we raised suspicion, we would immediately be the source of questions and would probably be caught out.

"Collect some firewood," Halt instructed as we both parted ways.

I looked for sticks under bushes so that they were dry and good for kindling. Something that everyday folk would be sure to look for. After I had collected a sizable bundle, I walked back to Halt, who had gathered his own stack.

"So who are we?" I asked.

"A queen's Ranger and reformed thief," Halt replied, cocking an eyebrow.

I made a face. "You know what I mean."

"I'm a lowly farmer, and you're my daughter," Halt answered.

I looked down at my clothes. I was overdressed for that role – after all, I was wearing Evanlyn's old clothes.

"How about I'm your rich granddaughter?" I suggested and Halt frowned.

"Granddaughter?" he said. "More like niece."

I smirked and patted Halt's arm gently – to which he immediately pulled away quite roughly, frowning at me.

"You need to accept that you're aging," I said, my face completely straight.

Halt narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I am not old."

"Not what your body is saying," I replied.

Halt opened his mouth to reply but I cut him off by raising my hand and indicating silence.

"We have to continue on this mission," I said. "After all we don't want to fail Crowley."

I smirked triumphantly and aimed a pointed look at Wolf, who shook his head disbelievingly. When had anyone bested Halt in a battle of wit and mind – or anything for that matter?

"I can do as I please," Halt scoffed but began to walk out of the cover and towards the town, indicating that our conversation was over and that he had won.

"I can never beat him," I whispered to Wolf.

"Never," Wolf agreed.

"Yes, never," Halt seconded, walking on as I jogged to catch up to him.

It seemed that leaving my life as a thief and habitual avoider of my past had flung me into a life that kept coinciding with my past and involved revisiting my haunted childhood. I frowned as we traversed the muddied streets, getting a few looks from passers-by, but otherwise being ignored as villagers hurried home.

"You're new to town, aren't you," an old man called from the porch of his run-down house. He was clothed in rags and had barely five teeth, and he rocked back and forth on his rotting rocking chair.

"Aye," Halt replied in a tone that didn't encourage conversation, but the old man didn't seem to notice, or was too nosey to care.

"Your granddaughter?" the man asked, pointing a quavering hand at me.

"Daughter, actually," Halt replied, frowning as I smirked and gave him an 'I told you so' look.

"Mister," I said with a curt nod of my head.

"The name's Samuel, and this is me daughter Sarah," Halt said. I smiled, remembering that those were the aliases I had used when we had first met – and he no doubt repeated them on purpose.

"Old Finn they call me," the old man, exchanged names. "On account of my hundreds of years." He laughed wheezily as we smiled politely.

"Well best be going," Halt said, looking at the sky in a tone that dissuaded further conversation. "It's getting late."

"Be careful. The night may be young but it's dangerous here. Protect your daughter," Old Finn warned as we walked off.

"Granddad?" I asked Halt once we were out of earshot, testing the new title.

"I will throw you in the moat," Halt warned.

"You responded though," I smirked.

"I warned you."

† † †

We reached the docks soon enough and crept through the back alleys, even though the streets were empty, save for a couple of thugs who seemed to be patrolling. The townsfolk knew the dangers and stayed well away.

"This is the factory," Halt said so quietly that I only just heard him.

We crouched behind some barrels a few hundred meters away and I waited for Halt to initiate action, but he did nothing except for put on his cowl and sit absolutely still. I mirrored his actions, my eyes flicking back and forth between studying Halt and the factory – although my head didn't move an inch. Wolf sat down quietly beside us.

"They've increased security," Halt noted.

I followed his gaze, seeing a dozen thugs patrolling the borders of the factory. There were also ten archers stationed on the roofs, pointing their crossbows, ready to fire at any sign of intrusion.

"What was it like before?" I whispered, emboldened by the fact that Halt was talking albeit very quietly. If he thought we were at a safe enough distance to converse in low tones then I assumed that I could as well.

He didn't chastise me but answered, "Nothing compared to this. The biggest problem was breaching the factory itself."

Halt was right. The factory was virtually impenetrable, made with reinforced stone that would require cavalry or a battering ram to penetrate. There was a small side door but this could be easily defended by the archers on the roof.

"What are we going to do?" I asked.

"Watch and wait," Halt answered and I felt my heart sink in disappointment.

I had been waiting for an elaborate plan that Rangers and especially the legendary Halt were famous for, something that would exploit our adversaries' weaknesses and play to our strengths.

"Half the life of a Ranger is waiting around for the right opportunity," Halt said.

I made a face, not looking forward to it, as patience was not exactly my strong point. Halt saw it and raised an eyebrow.

"Surely not that different to life as a thief," Halt pointed out and I realised he was right.

If I had been able to make a living as a thief who had to wait for the right opportunity or else risk getting caught, then waiting as a Ranger shouldn't be too foreign.

"How long will it take?" I asked after what seemed like an hour.

As far as I could see, nothing was happening. The guards were just walking around, and the sun was lowering as night approached.

"Two minutes," Halt said. "Not bad. You have more patience than Will had."

I decided to take a different approach. "We can't leave Edmund alone all this while."

"Missing lover boy, are we?" Wolf smirked.

"He's well trained and can look after himself. His heart, however, is a different matter altogether," Halt said tapping the side of his nose.

I went to say something but Halt put up his hand, cutting off my words and making me instantly focus. A man was slipping out of the side door and walking away. That was the first significant movement we had seen. I engraved his appearance in my memory. He was wearing heeled boots that clicked as he walked and a red cape that flapped in the wind. At his side was a sword which he removed from the sheath and began inspecting it – appearing like an expert swordsmen. Seemingly satisfied, he replaced it, the sharp steel making a shrill noise.

"That's a Toledo sword," Halt said, seeming impressed.

"What?" I asked, not grasping the foreign term.

"In Iberion, there's a town called Toledo and the blacksmiths make some of the finest swords of a refined steel," Halt answered.

"Is that bad for us?" I asked. "After all, it isn't the sword but the swordsman, right?"

"That is usually the case, but Toledo swords are expensive to come by and only the finest Iberion swordsmen use them."

"Do you think he's better than Horace?" I asked.

Queen Cassandra's husband Sir Horace Altman was the Premier Knight of the Realm and the Royal Champion. He was Araluen's best and his sword was rumoured to be made by Nihon-Jan blacksmiths who had tempered the steel.

"I doubt it," Halt answered, "And I could always take him down with an arrow but I think he's Iberion, which means the Boss is working with Iberian s."

"What do the Iberian s want?" I asked.

"Good question," Halt approved and I smiled. "A lot of them are pirates so maybe this is a deal so that they could raid our shores freely?"

There was another scuffle of movement as the thugs began to line up at the side door and go inside, only to be replaced by another dozen thugs – a changing of the guard. While they were still moving around, Halt gestured for us to go and the three of us snuck out hiding in the shadows.

† † †

"They change the guards at eight," Halt noted as we neared Victor's cabin where the horses and Edmund would be waiting for us.

Halt had decided to leave during the changing of the guard because he said that the fresh guards would be on the lookout for suspicious activity.

"Are we going to storm the factory?" I asked warily, unsure where Halt's train of thought was leading.

"Yes, I think we should before things worsen," Halt said. "But we'll need to see if Edmund has found any information first and talk to Baron Quinn."

"Baron Quinn?"

"He can lend us some knights and men-at-arms to assist us," Halt explained.

I nodded – it made sense. We stepped into the clearing, and I immediately knew that something was wrong. I grabbed my saxe, holding it up ready to throw. Wolf growled beside me and I could feel that Halt had nocked an arrow in his huge long bow in a matter of moments.

"Edmund," I whispered in both horror and shock, my eyes widening.