xxv.

For the umpteenth time that morning, Gilan told himself to focus on the road and forget anything else that tried to get on his mind. He had noticed he had been rather distracted lately and although up to now it hadn't caused anything worse than a couple of startled jumps when small mammals scurried through his path, he was afraid it would bring something worse than embarrassing, quiet yelps and, consequently, snorts from Blaze. If he wanted to go back and help his country figure this whole mess out it would be best for him to stay alive and for that he needed his senses right where he was at the moment.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help thinking about her, if just a little. It had been such a long time since he had last seen her –at least it seemed like a long time—and even if they hadn't really had anything before their last few days together, and he hoped he wasn't just making up what he thought he had felt, it had been enough to make him feel a small flip as they said goodbye. If he could have just…

Blaze whined softly, making him return from his reverie and focus even more on the road. He patted her neck reassuringly, letting her know he had heard it and they proceeded with more care though without warning the other party they were aware of their presence. As they got closer, Gilan began hearing the voices of men, probably camping by the side of the road, telling jokes and preparing for the night. Gilan himself had started looking for a place to spend it on the road though now that he had heard the men he would probably have to go further to find a place safe enough—in this times it was best to avoid strangers even if they were "good" strangers.

Being a Ranger, however, he was too curious to simply let them go by, and besides, it would be a good idea to investigate who was using the roads these days. Leading Blaze to the opposite side of the road and motioning for her to stay while he looked around, he softly disappeared into the fading sunlight and made his way through the trees on the other side. Halt had often told him he had too much fun disappearing into the woods, and as he did it this time around he realized his friend was right about that. Regardless of the occasion, he still felt a satisfying, quiet thrill whenever he got to exploit the skill he knew well enough he excelled at.

As he got closer to where the voices were coming from he was able to get a better picture of who the travelers were. If he wasn't mistaken, there were about seven or eight, judging by the five different voices he had made out and adding two or three who were silent during the conversation—usually the leader and younger members who were still not allowed to participate in the conversations. Likewise, based on their coarse words, he could tell these men were not the nicest bunch though he restricted his judgment knowing speech not always—though usually—was closely tied to the intentions of men. Upon closer attention, he began identifying the slang as that of seafaring men, which did not seem as strange considering he was not too far away from the nearest port city although sailors usually didn't go too far inland. However, there was a thicker tune that didn't click with his usual perception of the eastern coast accents.

Upon coming in sight of the camp, he saw the dancing shadows cast by the fire as it reached around it in that orange-y light as night fell. Around the fire were large, burly men, finishing up their dinner and sitting around talking in loud voices. Two of them were standing up, leaning against trees obviously keeping watch while the ones talking were sitting around the fire on a couple of logs and rocks. Finally, there was the figure half in the shadows watching the camp quietly from his post—the leader. They were all dressed in large furs and by the corner the Ranger made out the shapes of a few helmets. After that first glance Gilan recognized them. Skandians.

He felt a little more relaxed knowing they were bound by the treaty, but it was still out of habit that he found it a little unnerving and more so was the fact that they were this far inland. Even if they had come trading to the ports, and because if they had they would have stayed closer to the coast, they wouldn't be camping out at night since that meant they would be traveling further in. Frowning, he inched a little closer and settled against a tree, protected by the shadows but with clear view of the camp and, most importantly, within hearing distance.

"And what ye waiting for then?" One of the men was saying as he drained the last of his drink and set down the container harder than necessary.

"Waiting for you to show 'f yer worth me time." A large mound of a man replied. He had stringy yellow hair and a long beard with two braids parting it in a look that would have been comical had there not been two bushy eyebrows so low they shielded the eyes underneath them.

"I'll show ye aright!" Bellowed the first man, rising from his seat and stepping towards his opponent decidedly. In turn, the other had gotten to his feet and wiped the last remains of ale from his whiskers. Gilan had to suppress a roll of the eyes—there wasn't a time Skandians weren't looking for some small reason to fight, even among themselves.

"Bolverk! Ingvar! Get back down, you clowns." The man Gilan had assumed was the leader shouted in a whisper—for a Skandian, the whisper was turned into normal speaking volume. As he turned and came closer to the light Gilan realized he was younger than he had expected for a Skirl. Upon closer inspection of the men around him, the Ranger found most men were rather young though the seafaring life obviously took its toll. "What do you think you're doin' going around the woods making a fuss."

"Is there anyone actually here?" another man peeped in, clearly dismissing the 'whisper' as his voice carried through. With a scratch of his orange mustache and beard, he continued, "There ain't a soul in sight and b' now every'ne 'd be at the inns. 'Tis dark now. Who'd be lis'nin', Arnor?"

"I don't care there's no one 'round," Arnor, the leader, replied addressing all his men. "We've got a task and we've better finish it 'fore we go 'round drawing attention that can keep us from getting to whoever that one is."

Gilan followed the nudge of the head Arnor gave towards a tattered satchel by the corner. By the motion, the Ranger knew that was where the information was. The whole talk had made him uneasy as he tried figuring what could possibly bring them here. Something told him they hadn't even checked in at port since foreign traders were usually closely monitored just as a precaution and officials would surely prevent them from going further in without specific permit. At the same time there were several ideas that came to his mind and made him weary of the men before him. There had been peace for years now between the two countries, but how did they know the Oberjarl had died and the new one was doing away with any previous policies? Or there were always the exceptions that would risk a trip for the fun of it. Finally, although he knew he couldn't judge men just because of previous experiences with their compatriots, Skandians were mercenaries, and their loyalties fluctuated everywhere.

Perhaps it was the shared fear of the war looming over Araluen at the time; but whatever the case, he wouldn't let a carelessness on his part sink the kingdom into deeper trouble than they were already in. He would wait for the men to settle for the night and for the watchman to get drowsy before he looked into their business. For now, it wouldn't hurt overhearing what they had to say. One never knew when a drunkard would spill out the beans.

"Ye don't think they'll stop us once they know our business, do ye?" Another man asked. His scarred face was made even fiercer by the light of the fire, but despite his countenance he seemed of the gentler sort. "mean, they can't. Not once they come 'round and figger 'tout."

"Perhaps not." Arnor replied with a shrug of his large shoulders. Under all the fur, the motion was barely noticeable. "But we can't stand around. We find Treaty and we do our job."

"And where should we find him?" Grunted the man with the braided beard. "What did the Oberjarl say?"

"'Find Will Treaty. He's widely known, shouldn't be too hard.' Bah, he forgot to say this place's large 'nough as it is. Find one person among all these. And he wants it quickly too."

Gilan measured the odds before him. There were eight of them against one. He didn't doubt he could shoot them down if it came to a struggle, but if he planned on being seen he would need to ask for information and that took time. Time that they could use to win on him. besides, as much as he wanted to ask about their plans for Will he knew the best thing to do was to wait until his first plan could be executed. After all, his job at the time was gathering information, not getting mixed up in some physical struggle; they had enough in their hands as it was.

"Ye wouldna think there's them Rangers 'round here, aye?" One of the watchmen said rubbing his large hands up and down his arms and turning his back on the woods to face his comrades.

"They're everywhere." Orange-Mustache replied causing all of them to look around nervously. As if they could see Rangers lurking just by scanning their eyes around them. Gilan couldn't help giving a silent scoff. "Specters them are. The Oberjarl don't think much of them but, nay, they appear and disappear at will. Never'll catch sight if them don't want to be seen."

"We might just have to find one." Arnor grunted though didn't look less anxious than the rest as he looked around the camp.

"Specters or nay, they sure know things and we'd be smarts if one can point us the way." Orange-Mustache added.

"What make ye thinks they'll point the way?" Asked the only one who hadn't spoken until then. Although Arnor was definitely the Skirl, this one looked the oldest and by turn wisest of the bunch.

"Dunno. Maybe they'll travel to where Treaty is."

"They're not talkative kind, them Rangers. Ask questions when they already have the arrow at yer neck. Best way to be with a Ranger is to stay clear of their way."

"Now, Harek, we want to help." Replied Braided-Beard. "They wouldna turn us down. We've got information they will want."

"To say the truth," Arnor broke in suddenly. "I'd rather keep Rangers by my side than the she-warriors. Those don't wait for questions. At least we have a treaty with Rangers that'll keep them in place if we keep our peace. You never know what a woman will do. And these seem crazier than usual."

"Which is why we better find 'im soon."

"Or tell me what your deal is with Will Treaty." Gilan said stepping into the light. He had weighted the conversation and finally decided they had enough respect for Rangers and his appearance would buy him time. However, he doubted anything would happen now. They had spoken of the treaty and it sounded as if it was still holding. Lastly, they seemed confident their cause was good enough to ensure them passage through Araluen.

After gapping at him for almost a minute in which none of the men seemed to be able to formulate enough letters to arrange them into a word let alone words into a sentence—any sentence even if it didn't make sense—Orange-Mustache replied, still stammering a little.

"You-you j-just appeared there!" He pointed at the spot Gilan was standing on, the eyes under the thick eyebrows wide with awe. "S-speaking of the devil and…poof!"

"Why you should watch your mouth around here." Gilan replied now sure they wouldn't do anything against him though still keeping up the role of mystical specter. "Now, if you want me to keep this place as we find it right now you better start flapping those jaws."

"Oberjarl Erak sent us in search of Will Treaty." Replied Arnor, standing from his seat though at a look from Gilan seemed to shy a little and remained hunched. "Have a message to deliver. And I'm not too sure these are good news."

"Just for the ears of Will Treaty?" Gilan asked with a raised eyebrow. How he enjoyed mastering the expression and giving it to those who still struggled with it—it was more satisfying than he had thought as an apprentice. "It'd be extremely suspicious if your deal is with one man only."

"No, no." Arnor stammered, obviously seeing where that could lead him and his men. He wasn't as thick as he had made him. "I am sure any Ranger would be fine. After all, it is a matter of emergency."

"Well, spit it out."

"Aye, of course, sir." He nudged one of his men to get the satchel in the corner and bring it to the Skirl. "You know we still make our business with others. I mean, Araluen is safe, don't doubt us for a second. Everyone knows we are friends and we will help each other. Not a soul in Skandia dares speak against any—"

"I trust you." Gilan interrupted knowing if he let him ramble on about Araluen and Skandia there would be no end to his attempt at making clear the treaty was not being questioned or tampered with. At the same time, there was something about this whole business that put him on edge; he was starting to think it all was connected with Araluen's problem at the time and he wanted the information now.

"yes, well, just making sure we're not going to be accused…" Arnor handed the satchel to Harek, clearly still too disconcerted to search and talk at the same time. Gilan had a feeling this didn't usually happen to the Skirl—the main reason why he was in charge and not someone else—but it was always uncomfortable when one found oneself in his position. He wasn't stupid or cowardly, just superstitious. "Couple weeks ago two ships came to Hallasholm, mind you they carried peace flags. We don't usually get visitors up there so we kept our guard but allowed them to come to shore. Seven or eight came in the small boat and to our surprise all women. Now we're here thinking how lucky we've got with fresh visitors and—"

"All were women?"

"Aye, and didn't look too tough either." Added Braided-Beard though zipped his mouth with a glare from Arnor.

"One of the men tried getting one of them and before he knew it he was half in the water, dripping like a silly. After that warning we kept our distance and let the guard on duty deal with them." Arnor continued. "One of the women, small little thing, demanded to see the Oberjarl and they went after surrendering their weapons."

"What was their business there?" Gilan said trying to get the story to move faster. Of course he was beginning to get a small idea, and there was no question these women were obviously from Mazoniria, but none of his speculations had any value until they were confirmed.

"Asked for our services. You know, as mercenaries. Raids sometimes—" he stopped his sentence when Gilan urged him on and fortunately understood the message. "Oberjarl was curious about it so naturally asked more on it. These women, you wouldn't think so but they sure are tough. They wanted our help to mount an invasion on Araluen. Of course we won't do it, we can't even if we wanted to, and honestly, serving under women is worse than—"

"Well, what did the Oberjarl say?"

"He's no fool. He knows as soon as he declines these foreigners will depart straight here. No, he says he's thinking about it and seeing how many men he would be able to gather. Didn't want to raise any suspicions about anyone leaving so he sent us here to warn you. Asked us to tell Treaty though I'm sure any one of you will be able to do something with it."

"Did they say anything about how many men they need?" Gilan asked moving away from the broader subject and into more detailed information.

At a nod from the Skirl, Harek handed Gilan a leather folder with papers in it. Erak had sent it with as much information as he had been able to gather in the few hours between the request and his own order to warn their allies. It wasn't much to go by, but it was something. There was a copy of the recorded conversation by Erak's Hilfman, a brief description of the vessels they arrived in and the women themselves (although there was little in that aspect as they were simply described as female, long hair, dark, small), and rough amounts of the men they were asking for and what they calculated the women already had. Gilan couldn't help feeling a little surprised at the Skandian's records; they weren't exemplary bureaucrats, not even close, and yet they had seemed to be careful about this. In fact, the report could have been a badly written, rough draft of a Ranger's apprentice's report.

Gilan looked through the papers a few times, feeling the eyes of the Norsemen on him the whole time, and did some quick calculations. These men didn't have horses so they had been planning on searching for Will on foot—wasn't it a miracle he had found them?—and when he finally looked up and asked they told him their ship had been left with the rest of the crew at a solitary beach half a day's walk from there. He chewed the inside of his upper lip as he thought what his next move would be. Obviously, he had to get the news and the report to Crowley—he hoped they had taken charge fast enough and by now were finishing their decisions for the war council—but he hadn't even started looking around Trelleth with as much care as he would have liked. In any other situation, that would have been the job for the local Ranger to look into, but at the moment he wasn't even sure if Crowley was still keeping Liam around or if, knowing Gilan was coming this way, sent the younger Ranger on another task.

Finally, he came to a decision. It wasn't the ideal arrangement, but at the moment it was the best alternative and he would just have to trust a little more on others. Worse come to it, he would be sore for a week after traveling to Castle Araluen and back in less than five days. Looking up at the expectant Skandians, he pulled one last time on his lip before addressing them.

"None of you have horses and it would probably be best for you and the unfortunate beast for it to stay this way. However, I must get this to the King and the Ranger Commandant as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I have a task for you."

"As long as you keep me off a horse I'm your man." Arnor replied. Interesting creatures, these Skandians. They had a way of attaching themselves to the first foreigner that showed he had guts. Gilan wasn't complaining, but it never stopped amazing him how much loyalty the rough seafarers mustered to people outside their country if they earned their admiration. At least now he could tell Will and Horace he also had a Skandian admirer.

"Right." The Ranger said with a curt nod. "If you follow this road south you'll get to Castle Trelleth. Before you reach it there should be a smaller road. Take it and follow it for about seven or eight meters and you'll get to a small cabin. Leave your larger weapons behind and advance with your hands clear in sight. I doubt the Ranger will attack before knowing what your business is, but just in case. Tell him what you found and that you've spoken with me. Gilan. I'd write it out his instructions, but that'd take time, so just tell him to look around while I'm away. He should know what that means."

"'T all seems fine the way you say it, but what if he doesn't believe me?"

"You give him this." Gilan hadn't been too sure about what he was about to do, but he couldn't see any other way, and Arnor had a point. He took the silver oakleaf from around his neck and handed it to the Skandian if a little too reluctant. "This should be enough. Hold it out when you first meet him, too."

"Nay, he'll think I've killed you on the road and took that from you." Once again, Gilan was surprised at the sharpness of the young Skirl.

"The day you get to kill a Ranger I'll make you king. We are not easily caught off guard and even when we are we have our own ways of getting out." He ignored the mumble he heard from one of the men about disappearing and continued, "He's a nice fellow, in any case; he'll trust you if you say the truth."

"Aright. I'll be sure to get your message. Arnor Windhounder, just in case."

Gilan nodded acknowledgement and turned to leave before another thought made him retrace his steps. "Arnor, there might be a possibility Ranger Liam is not home. Wait on the porch until nightfall if that's the case. If by then he's still not back it's probable he might be out on duty. Just keep your guard up and keep a look out on shore. I will meet you back at this campsite in three days at twilight."

"Yes, sir."

After a last check to make sure he wasn't missing any instructions, Gilan walked back into the shadows aware of the Skandians' silence even when he disappeared in the night. Blaze whined softly when she heard him and after making sure everything was in place he turned back the way they had come from. There was no time to waste camping and in any case, it was just a few hours before daybreak. If he pushed on at the regular Ranger pace, cantering twenty minutes and walking for ten, he would be in Castle Araluen by nightfall the next day and possibly back on the road the following morning. He promised Blaze an apple as soon as they got to their destination.