Chapter 25

They'd left all their camping gear a way back from Moragarath's holdings. Will scampered over the rocks for it. He'd made his decision and he knew there wasn't a lot of time to bandy about. Moping about could wait. So after a minute of sitting in the gorge pitying himself, he began to trek up the mountain.

He was aware of the spitting fire behind him. A thick, dark smoke spiralled into the air. The grunts of wargals turned into ear-splitting cries. At one stage, he heard a crash. When he emerged on an outcrop, he saw that the timber frame of the castle had collapsed and the stones tumbled down on top of it.

Will waited in vain to see if a fire elf would emerge from the rubble. The wargals gave up and headed off in the same direction Faul had gone. Strange, Will thought, how they all decided to go the same way.

For half an hour, he couldn't bring himself to leave the rocky outcrop. He felt that doing so would be like giving up on Gilan. Will couldn't believe that anything would have happened to the fire elf. He couldn't believe that a bright life could be extinguished so fast.

He sucked in a trembling : what a deception. It made you think you had a heap of it, then it chucked you out on your own in seconds. And Faul- how could Faul do that to them? They had helped him, saved him from the ogres.

Will dragged himself up and kept on walking. It did him good to be moving. He found that it kept him calm. His rythmic heartbeat was soothing, as was the consistant ache in his thighs from a steep uphill climb.

When he reached their packs, he discarded their sleeping rolls save one. He shifted all the food and a change of clothes into one pack. There were spare arrows so he replaced the ones he'd shot, filling his quiver back to its full quota of twenty-four. He shoved in as many arrows as he could fit, just in case he ran out, along with Halt's medical kit that he feared he'd need.

He repositioned his quiver to make room for the pack. Then with a regretful look at the equipment he hadn't managed to fit in which included the coffee pot, he headed back down the slope.

As the land dipped down he lost sight of the smoldering remains of Morgarath's castle. He hoped the dark lord himself had perished in the flames. The violence of the thought shocked him. He'd come a long way since he was the orphaned lad who'd never seen a day of combat and not all of the changes were positive.

Will counted his steps as he tramped. His pack jostled up and down on his back. He was getting blisters on his heels. But he kept counting and he blanked his mind. Stopped thinking about what may or may not have happened to his friends. He was a soldier covering ground one step at a time.

He reached the bottom of the gully. Then he had to keep going, to climb up. The knarled, twisted trees littered the ground as they shed their prickly leaves. The gorse bushes scratched any skin they could find- thankfully he was wearing long pants.

The curve of the rocks was folding over; the top approaching. He'd be able to see Morgarath's castle soon. Will jogged the last part. He could almost persuade himself that Gilan would be there waiting for him.

No such luck. The plateu was in fact empty. Even the wargals had gone. Will let out a breath. All that was left was a crumbled, ruined castle. He skidded down the slope. It was safe enough, he figured. The wargals probably wouldn't return anytime soon. Unless they wanted equipment down in the mines that Faul had mentioned. If there were mines- it seemed Faul had not been anywhere close to honest with them.

Will jogged over the plateu. The dead bodies of the wargals embedded with arrows retold the story of the battle. There was the podium, but the stone had been removed. Will gave it a solid kick as he passed. It made him feel a fraction better.

He disregarded any silence he might have taken up. What did it matter? There didn't seem to be anyone around to hear. "Gilan?" he called. "Gil?" There was no answer. He made his way to the ruined castle. With the support pillars burnt to ash, there was nothing much left for the fire to build on. Some flames flickered over the stone; most of them died.

Will kept calling his friend's name. He stamped out a flame that had found a scrap of grass. The thick stones were crumbled and blackened. He turned them over, shoving them aside. "Gilan? Gilan?"

The mess of a flattened wargal hand was uncovered under a stone. Will staggered back, revolted. He was assaulted with vivid images of Gilan being in the same situation as that wargal. His boots clipped the stones as he frantically searched.

He paused, aware of a vague noise. "Gilan?" he asked, much like a hound with his nose in the air, sniffing, searching. The ragged groan came again, this time accompanied by a slurred name. Will rushed to the source of the sound.

The stones had fallen in such a way that they were like a tent, braced against each other with a triangle opening. Will saw this after clearing some of the rubble. He coughed, eyes watering from the dust. Gilan was lying between the two stones, very much intact although his skin was red and swollen.

"Gilan!" Will gasped. The fire elf blinked hazily at him. "Come on out. It's safe. All the wargals have moved on."

Gilan groaned. "Can't," he murmured. "My foot's stuck." His eyebrows were knotted with pain. Will bit his lip. He hated seeing his friend vulnerable.

"I'll try move the stones," he said. He dropped his quiver and his backpack onto the ground. Then he moved around to where the neat, tent like shape had caved in. He dug through the smaller fragments of stone.

"What happened?" Gilan asked. "Did we get the stone? Where's Halt?"

"Faul's a traitor," Will explained. The bitterness in his voice surprised was a large chunk of stone and he braced against it to move it. Gilan howled and he jerked away as if he'd been stung. "Gil?"

The fire elf was breathing raggidly. A whimper escaped his lips. He managed to compose himself enough to croak, "get the stone off."

Will pressed his palms against it. He didn't apply any pressure. "But Gilan," he began and was cut off.

"Just do it," Gilan muttered. "Don't mind me."

The apprentice set his teeth together. He closed his eyes and tried not to listen to the screams as he heaved the stone with all of his might. When it was clear, he dared to open his eyes and look down at the mangled foot. It was a mess of blood and bones. A sick feeling rose in him.

Gilan gasped and groaned. "Help me up," he whispered. He wiggled his arms free of the stones. Will gripped the burnt, scarred skin and dragged the ranger clear. It was awful- Gilan couldn't hold back his yelps as his ruined foot was jostled.

Will propped him up against the stones. The elf licked his cracked lips, so Will gently trickled some water from his canteen into Gilan's mouth. The ranger eagerly lapped it up. He then spat on his hands and the burnt skin smoothed into pink. He spat again and rubbed his saliva up his trembling arms and legs. Will hovered over him, hands waving helplessly.

At least, free from his burns, the ranger looked in better condition. Yet the foot still lay limp and unresponsive. There wasn't much in the basic first aid kit that could help. Will gave him some elfgreen leaves to chew to dull the pain.

"I couldn't get out," Gilan gasped. "There were wargals everywhere. I figured I'd rather take my chances in the collapsing castle than be discovered. Morgarath hates rangers, you know. He'd do all sorts of terrible things to us if he caught us." His eyes were bright. Too bright. Feverish.

Will didn't know what to do about the foot. He moved it to an elevated position on a rock and bound it in pristine bandages. The white cloth quickly turned red. Gilan's eyelashes fluttered.

"Where's Halt?"

Will swallowed. "He- Faul took him. Gilan, Faul's a traitor. He's in league with Morgarath."

"Ah," Gilan sighed. "A traitor." He shifted restlessly against the rock. "You say he's got Halt? We have to go after him." But of course the ranger couldn't walk on his foot and he sank back against the stones.

"Morgarath could have died in the fire," Will said desperately.

"I don't think so." Gilan shook his head, grimancing. "I don't think he was even in the castle. It must've been a set up."

"A set up?"

"Yes. I think Faul led us here to get Halt captured." Gilan peered at his bandaged foot and moaned softly.

"Why would he do that?" Will asked.

"Faul? I don't know. But Morgarath- he has a grudge against Halt. He'll want his number one enemy out of the way if he's planning another war."

"A war?" Will shuddered. "Are we going to go to war against Morgarath."

"No doubt. We want to. We want to finish him once and for all. No more living in fear of these mountains." Gilan rubbed his face. "We've got to move. In case the wargals come back for their mines."

Will supported his friend and helped him to stand. Gilan leaned heavily on him. He had to hop on one foot, with Wll holding him upright. They hobbled over to the ridge, struggled up it and down the other side. Gilan collapsed against him and Will lowered him to the ground. The ranger sank against the rocks.

"This'll have to be far enough for now," Gilan said. "Can you fetch my bow and arrows from the rubble?"

Will nodded. He hurried back over, unreasonably anxious that the wargals would suddenly show up. He dug out the bow that was remarkably intact, and the quiver of arrows. He returned them to Gilan.

"Thanks," the ranger grunted. Will brought out a snack of stale bread and cheese for them to eat. Gilan said he wasn't hungry, so the apprentice munched on his own.

"We'll have to get word to Crowley," Gilan murmured. "Too bad I can't speak to birds. We'll just have to hope we're interesting enough to report to Crowley. They'll tell him about the castle no doubt, but he might assume that we're fine."

"Halt," Will said glumly. "He might not have time to wait for Crowley to send help."

Gilan stared morosely at a gorse bush. "I suppose we could pretend to be cows or some other such strange thing to get the attention of the birds." He reached over and gripped the boy's shoulder. "But you're right. Halt might not have time for that."

The intensity in the red eyes went against everything Will knew about the elf so far. There was no joking there. Just a splash of fear, and a core of steel.

"I'll go," Will said.

"No," Gilan shook his head. "I won't allow it. Halt wouldn't want you to."

Will glanced down at his hands. "I know that." He took a deep breath. "I'm going anyway. Please, Gilan. My place is with Halt. He's my mentor."

Gilan shook his head again. He was evidently troubled. Will met his eyes.

"I know you think I'm just a boy. Because I am. But I'm also a- a ranger's apprentice and I can't sit around and leave Halt in the clutches of Lord Morgarath." Will nodded to himself. "I'm sorry Gil. You can't walk, I'll have to leave you here."

"Now hold on," Gilan began, but the apprentice was already unpacking some food for him and spreading the sleeping roll over him.

"You should be fine," Will fussed, though he was trying to persuade himself more than the ranger in front of him. He felt terrible for abandoning the injured ranger. "Just make sure you eat and drink a lot of water. Keep warm."

Gilan caught his fluttering hands. "Slow down," the fire elf said. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I've got my bow to defend myself and that's all I need. You take the sleeping roll."

"But-"

"I won't let you go if you don't take it," Gilan said. Will choked back his argument. He registered that the fire elf was agreeing to let him leave after Halt.

"Thanks Gil," the apprentice said. "I'll be back soon with Halt." He rerolled the sleeping bag.

"Fine," Gilan sighed, resigning himself to nights of fretting. "Help me over the rocks into the gully. I want to be further from the camp. That was I can light a fire to keep me warm at night, alright?"

Will agreed. He hooked an arm around the ranger and they stumbled over the uneven terrain. Every second gave Morgarath, if indeed he was still alive (and Gilan seemed to think he was) more time to do god alone knows what to Halt. Yet Will could never forgive himself if Gilan was harmed while he was away. While they could never be properly safe in the mountains of rain and night, he would do the best he could to hide Gilan.

When they settled on a spot, the elf sank to the ground, exhausted. He stretched his leg out in front of him, wincing at the sight of his foot. It must have been extrodinarily painful. Will laid out elfgreen leaves, food and water.

"That's enough," Gilan mumbled. "Keep the rest for yourself." Even so, Will checked his temperature. It was high and there wasn't much he could do about it. He tore off a strip from his cloak, soaked it in water and laid it on Gilan's forehead. Then he gathered firewood, snapping off dry branches from the prickly, scrubby trees and put it close to hand. That way, the elf would find it easy to keep fires burning without scalding his skin.

"You stay safe, you hear?" Gilan said. "Promise me."

Will laid a hand over his heart. "I promise I'll stay safe. I'll keep Halt safe too. You stay alive and we'll be back in no time at all."

They clasped hands. Gilan pulled him in for a brief, one armed embrace. "Good luck," he murmured. Will nodded and responded with, "you too."

Then the apprentice took off after the wargals, well aware that he'd lost a lot of ground and relying on his tracking ability to find them.

…..

Thrumming, pulsing, like an arrow being released straight through his head, over and over. However, this was no arrow and Halt was well aware of that. Of course he was. He'd been concussed many times before; it came with the job. He knew that he'd been hit over the head. In fact, he knew it before he remembered exactly what had happened.

The stone came back to him. At first the memories were jumbled and confused. He recalled that Faul had disobeyed his orders and come after him. That was when he pieced together what must have happened. Halt's next concern was Will. He hoped the boy was out of trouble and faring well. Gilan would be looking after him, he figured.

He mumbled a cuss word under his breath and called Faul some unpleasant names. Halt leaned against a damp wall. He waited for his head to stop spinning. It was a dungeon; damp, musky, with straw that smelt of urine and vomit and cobwebs in the corners. Halt shifted and realised he was shackled to the wall. What overkill. It was almost barbaric. He didn't know what they expected him to do if he wasn't chained- he could hardly bend the iron bars of the door with his bare hands.

They'd left him alone too. There were no other prisoners in his cell. He couldn't hear any outside of his cell either. It was eerily silent, apart from the coughs and grunts of the wargals guarding him.

"Any chance of a meal?" he asked dryly. A pair of yellow eyes gleamed at him then turned away. "Didn't think so."

A while later, studded metal boots rang on the floor. They were the sort of shoes pompous nobles like to wear, the kind that announced their presence and had an impressive ching on stone floors. Halt glared, noting the swish of black robes. The pale, claw-like hands were clasped behind his back, and sunken black eyes studied the ranger.

"Halt," Morgarath sneered. His skin had a sicklier pallor than Halt remembered, and his hair was dead white, but there was no mistaking his whiny, self-important voice. "What a delight."

Halt glowered. He was in no mood for shallow, thinly veiled threats. Something about being chained to a wall put him in a fould mood. He had nothing much to say to his enemy, so he remained quiet.

Morgarath started to laugh. His madness hadn't receded over the years. If anything, it had grown until it consumed him, body and soul. His whooping laughter turned into shreiks. Halt stiffened. Not so much because of Morgarath's behaviour, but he heard hoofbeats. Sure enough, Faul appeared on the other side of the bars.

"I didn't think it'd be so easy," Faul scoffed. Halt's eyes narrowed. He could only guess what their plan had been but it seemed loose to him. Having a centaur wander around until the birds reported it to Crowley, and hope the commandant sent a ranger out to intercept him. Yet it had worked.

"Oh Halt," Morgarath howled with delusional laughter. "We were going to bait you with one of your colleagues. We didn't think you yourself would turn up. I'm not prepared." He grinned, his thin lips cracking his face like the fissure broke the mountains. "Don't worry though. We'll prepare something creative for you."

"I tremble in anticipation," Halt muttered.

Morgarath only smiled."We'll see how sarcastic you are when you've have all your limbs dislocated, your fingers cut off one by one, your back whipped until there's no skin left."

"Thought you said you were going to be creative. I've heard all those before," Halt scowled.

"Well?" Faul asked, steering the conversation away from torture. "My lord, have I done my duty well enough?"

Morgarath's top lips curled. "I did not count on my mining base being burnt down," he pointed out.

Faul flushed. "I wasn't expecting three rangers," he confessed. Halt gritted his teeth, tensing up.

"Three?" Morgarath's dark eyes gleamed. "There are three of them?"

Faul shrugged uncomfortably. "Well I only caught this one. The other two disappeared. But my lord, one is only a boy."

"A boy?! Three?! Do you take me for a fool, centaur?!" Morgarath screamed. "I cannot have two rangers lurking around my kingdom." He spun on Halt. "Where are they?"

Halt sealed his lips and refused to utter a word. Morgarath threw up his hands.

"Centaur- I want those other two caught!" he demanded. "I want their skin peeled off and their eyes gauged out. Then you can give them to Halt here. Let's see if he squirms."

Faul shifted, grimancing at the unpleasantry. "Then," he prompted, "when I have done that, will you promote me to king of the celtican centaurs?"

Morgarath snarled at him. "Don't push your luck centaur."

Faul bristled. "We made an agreement, my lord."

"Find the other two," Morgarath spat at him. He strode purposefully out of the dungeons. Faul sighed and clopped after him. Halt was left alone in the dark to worry about his young friends.