NOTE: I don't own any of the characters from Ranger's Apprentice! I just own Flare, Disk, Gregor, and the Hunters.

Please respond to my top ten by the end of this fanfiction! (The Kalkara and other distant shots can be included! After all, it was Will shooting at them.)

Short chapter.

Review and Enjoy!


A Shadow and a Warrior Chapter 28

The music was soft, lulling, almost dreamlike. It was also sad. His dark eyes darted around the room as the song progressed, seeking out danger. One could never be too alert. They were in a tavern, still several days away from their destination. An itch in the back of his neck made him shift. Word was that they were already through the passes. That was not good. It meant they had to hurry.

However, both horses and riders needed a rest.

As if in agreement with his thoughts, another man wrapped in a green-gray mottled cloak put his head back and closed his eyes. The other, a young knight apprentice, was leaning in and listening in fascination to the music. He, himself, was starting to feel lolled by the music. It was so soft and nice. Yet the deep sadness was not helping him in any way. Looking over at the band, he glared at them for awakening such an emotional state out of him.

Hoping neither younger man would notice, Halt quickly brushed aside tears that were forming in his eyes. Now was not the time for tears. They had to wait for later. Halt needed all his focus on the task at hand. Things, after all, were not going well for them. Besides the horses and riders being completely exhausted, the Temujai were already marching on Halasholm. Will and Evanlyn were running out of time.

Will…his apprentice…his son…

Alone…

In danger…

The tears returned to his eyes. Quickly he brushed them away and glared at the band once more. To keep himself occupied, he kicked Gilan under the table. The young man sat up in a heartbeat, blinking away sleep. Realizing what had happened, he smiled sheepishly at Halt. Halt, in return, snorted. The song ended (Finally!) and Horace turned back to the table. Halt's keen eyes allowed him to spot the trail left by tears. Obviously the song had had the same effect on him. Only Gilan seemed unaffected. However, his eyes were distant as he messed with his coffee. That told Halt that he did feel the effects.

The door burst open, releasing a blast of cold air. Gilan looked up just as Horace turned around. Striding in, head high, was a man cade in chainmail and a black surcoat. Against the black a white raven design. A knight. The man's cold eyes darted around as he entered. All talk fell silent in an instant. Halt noticed that people shrank away from the man. All these clues told Halt who he was: Lord Deparnieux. He was lord of the area and the sole ruler of his castle, Chateau Montsombre.

Walking up to the bar, he ordered a glass of whiskey. The tavern-keeper, a nice and kind man, quickly raced to do the man's biding. Smiling, Deparnieux turned around and leaned against the bar. His left hand signaled for the band to continue. They did so at once. People kept their eyes turned away from the Lord. Voices low, they talked about anything other than the conditions that they had been living in. After all, the great Lord Deparnieux was at fault for all their suffering.

Seeing the people's attitudes, Horace became red in the face. Halt and Gilan both sensed the anger that was building inside the young man. Both seized an arm as the young man started to rise. That was the last thing they needed: a fight with a warlord. Halt glanced over at the warlord, hoping he had not seen Horace's actions. The man's demeanor said he did not but you could never be sure. With his whiskey in hand, Deparnieux walked over to a table. The people sitting there instantly scattered. He sat down without a word and put his muddy boots on the table. The tavern-keeper frowned at this but said nothing. What could he do?

Finally the man spoke to a serving girl, "Girl! Come here!"

With narrowed eyes, Halt and his companions watched as she slowly made her way over to him. Once she was in reach, Deparnieux seized her wrist and twisted. The girl cried in pain and dropped to her knees. Smiling with pleasure, the warlord twisted harder. Several men rose but one look from those cold eyes stopped them. That, however, meant nothing to someone else. This time he had no one to stop him.

Horace grabbed the man's wrist in his iron grip. Deparnieux, focused turned away from Horace, jerked back in shock. With ease, Horace yanked the warlord's hand off the girl. Instantly he shooed the girl away. Deparnieux rose to his full height. The man stood only an inch above Horace. However, he was surprised to see Horace holding his ground. The young man face the warlord with eyes flashing. The warlord noticed Horace's trembling fist, indicating of seething anger. The man, however, remained in control of himself. That scared Deparnieux. Such a man could be a threat to his position. Slowly a black glove came off…

And was yanked from his grasp.

Spinning, Deparnieux found himself facing a man that was even more terrifying: Halt. Though small in stature, the warlord could sense the strength in the man. A younger one, slightly taller, stepped to Halt's side. It was not hard to see that the three were together. At the two men's feet, leaning against a table, was a round shield emblazoned with a green oakleaf. Mutterings started up around Deparnieux. Everyone had heard of the young knight that had been dispatching countless knights who controlled the bridges. Obviously this boy was the youth.

And Deparnieux could believe it.

Halt growled softly, "No one challenges the Oakleaf Knight while his injured."

"Is he?" Deparnieux replied smoothly. His eyes returned to the boy, noticing the bandage hand and shoulder. "Such a shame. I was looking forward to a little fun."

Halt's eyes narrowed, "Not here, not now."

Deparnieux instantly knew that Halt was the one in charge, not the Knight of the Oakleaf. With a growl, the warlord pushed Horace. The young man stepped back only once in order to regain his balance. This angered Deparnieux greatly. He was not going to be showed up. Looking around, however, he noticed that it was too late for that. Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the tavern. Horace calmly rejoined his friends. Gilan gave him a small, tight smile. Horace shrugged. Halt hid himself in the shadows once more. His eyes narrowed as he eyed the door.

So much for not angering a warlord.