This story takes place after the battleschool apprentices try to attack Will after the boar hunt and Will and Horace become friends.
Will squinted into the sunlight, staring across the grassy hills at the Redmont battle school. Halt was leaning casually on his longbow, allowing his young apprentice a few moments to study the building before they began.
But, Halt was not known for his patience.
"Here's the objective. I am going to take your bow and place it somewhere inside the training ground. You have to retrieve your bow without me stopping you. I'll go in first and find myself a vantage point to watch, then you have to get into the battleschool, find the bow, and retrieve it. Simple enough."
Will turned to look at Halt with his eyebrows furrowed. The task did not seem simple at all. But a particular phrase stood out to Will. "What do you mean 'without you stopping me'?" he asked worriedly.
"I'll shoot an arrow at you whenever an average guard might see you," Halt said simply.
That answer did not quell any of his doubts and his heart skipped a beat. "You're going to shoot at me?"
"Yes. I'll shoot an arrow near you, but being the decent shot that I am, I'll miss," Halt replied calmly. He pressed on, apparently oblivious to Will's growing worry. "Which reminds me, when you do get caught, grab my arrows. I don't want to have to go find them all after."
"Okay," Will replied, hoping that his voice wasn't shaking. Suddenly, his grip on his bow grew slippery and he nonchalantly wiped his free hand against his cloak.
"Give me five minutes. Then you can start." With that, Halt grabbed Will's bow and marched off towards the battleschool, his cloak swinging gently behind him and his figure started to morph into the backdrop by habit alone.
Will took a few deep breaths, steadying his nervous stomach, and tried to picture the inside of the battleschool. He imagined all of the spots that Halt could place the bow, and knowing that he would most likely pick the most difficult, Will created a list of where he should look first. He waited approximately five minutes, ignoring the urge to pace, then began to jog forward, slowing once he got near.
He lay belly down in the grass, cursing the battle school's preparedness and foresight by clearing away all shrubs and trees surrounding the building leaving only an empty stretch of field surrounding the stone walls. But as Halt always said, he has to trust the cloak.
With that mantra replaying over and over in his mind, he gazed up at the scant clouds scudding across a pale blue sky and waited until one of their shadows passed over him. Then he began his painfully slow crawl towards the battleschool wall.
Just less than ten minutes later with aching elbows and tingling shoulders, Will stood in the shadows of the battleschool, slowly edging his way towards the front gate. He made it without any arrows careening towards him which meant he either did well, or Halt wasn't watching yet. Will would bet anything that it was latter since he knew he had slipped up at least once on the way over and had sucked in a breath, waiting tensely for an arrow that never came.
He glanced at the open double doors towering into the sky to his right and listed off the next steps in his mind: get inside, find his bow, and not get shot by Halt. Simple enough, as Halt himself had said earlier.
He pursed his lips in concentration and turned to his left, away from the doors where two guards stood at ease talking by the open doors and counted about twenty-five steps to where he guessed a rack of shields is usually positioned within the walls. Then he reached up, found a hand-hold in the crevice between two stones, and began his hasty ascent, moving as quickly as he dared to save his grip strength for the top. Once he reached the upper edge of the front wall, he paused and slowly raised his head just above the lip, his hands clenching onto the stone and his arm muscles starting to quiver.
He scanned the upper balcony in small sections which ran around three sides of the battleschool buildings surrounding the courtyard below. Grunts and clangs of weapons erupted from the training yard and dust rose from the apprentices' feet, yet Will zoned all of this out and focused entirely on his search for Halt. He saw Sir Rodney standing in the shadows on the balcony, almost directly opposite Will, looking down at his apprentices. Yet, oddly enough, his head and hands were moving animatedly, as if he was talking to someone.
Will smiled to himself as he managed to pick out the hazy outline of a longbow hidden amongst the shadows to Rodney's left and when he squinted, Will could make out the shape of Halt's cloak standing beside him. Will let himself drop so that his arms were straight and his chin rested against the rough wall and he lodged his toes into the small seams of stone. Carefully, he removed one hand and shook out his arm and stretched his cramping fingers before repeating the process with the other arm.
Then, he slowly lifted himself back up so his head was over the edge and rolled onto his stomach, trying to press as closely as he could to the stone. Will's hands deftly latched onto the other edge of the wall and he dropped back against the stone, but now on the inside of the battleschool. Practically without thinking, Will climbed down the wall, his hands moving easily and he prayed that his cloak blended in well with the shadow of the clouds hanging overhead. When he was less than a meter above the ground, he dropped to the dust and into a low crouch, hiding himself behind the rack of wooden practice shields where he shook out his exhausted arms.
With a glimmer of hope, Will peered through a crack between the round shields and saw that Halt hadn't yet pulled out his bow. So far so good. He turned his attention to the courtyard and scanned each area until he found his bow. Of course, Halt had placed it on top of the water pump's roof at the front of the rows of apprentices standing behind their wooden mannequins, following the barks of the older apprentice who was acting as their drill sergeant for the day. And of course, the drill sergeant was standing at attention, his hands clasped behind his back, pacing slowly in front of the apprentices and consequently, just in front of the water pump and his bow.
But this turn of events began to create an idea in Will's mind. If he waited until the drilling ended, then he would be able to join the throng of parched apprentices and hopefully, get near the pump without suspicion. Yet to do that, Will first had to get closer to the drilling students so that he could join them when the time was right. He peered back through a crack in the shield rack and saw that almost just in front of him, along the perpendicular wall, stood a row of targets, waiting for someone to practice with their crossbows.
First, he used both hands to gently push forward a stack of wooden shields that were leaning lazily against the rack on the ground, hastily piled on top of each other instead of carefully placed like they were supposed to be, and he slipped the back shield out of the leaning pile. Will took a deep breath and checked that his cowl was drawn all the way up his face before edging forward in a crouch towards the open space between the shield rack and the first target, his own wooden shield held parallel to his side so that his cloak covered it entirely. He backed up against the wall and into the corner of the courtyard, hoping beyond hope that his cloak was doing its job. Cautiously, he crept forward, his back scraping the wall, and Will's eyes were glued to the shadowy figure standing beside Rodney on the balcony.
He was halfway when he stepped on a rock protruding from the dusty ground and while he managed to swallow his yelp of surprise, he couldn't stop his arms from shooting out to regain his balance. Almost as soon as his ankle twisted on top of the rock, an black shafted arrow slammed into the first target, hitting it dead center. The battleschool apprentices looked up in alarm, but returned to the front when Rodney's clear and booming voice ordered "Stay focused!"
Will let his head hang and he let out a frustrated groan. He rolled his ankle around slightly, getting rid of the slight twinge of pain, and moved out from the shadows towards the front side of the target. He pulled Halt's arrow out of the ring and slid it into his own quiver before he hid behind the target, all pointedly without looking at his mentor.
A few moments earlier…
"So how good is this apprentice of yours?" Rodney asked Halt, still picturing the scrawny boy, eyes wide with fear, from the Choosing Ceremony months prior. The battlemaster's eyes were squinting down at the open doors, searching for a boy walking amongst the shadows.
"Considering he's already inside the school and you didn't notice, I'd say he's doing all right so far," Halt deadpanned from beside him with just a hint of pride.
"What!?" Rodney sputtered, turning towards the Ranger.
"You've been keeping your eyes glued to the same spot this whole time. Did you really think that the only point of entry were the doors?" Halt asked amusedly, knowing full well what the knight beside him thought about his prized building's defenses.
Rodney huffed sourly. "Well where else would someone come in?"
"Over the wall."
"Over the wall? But that's… at least six and a half meters tall!"
Halt remained silent, letting Rodney roll the idea over in his mind.
"Okay, so if this apprentice of yours really is inside the courtyard already, then where is he?" Rodney asked, his head now swinging from side to side, trying to pick out the Ranger's apprentice from mass of battleschool apprentices. "I don't see him any-"
The unmistakable thrum of Halt's longbow interrupted him and Rodney flinched in surprise.
"What are you doing?" Rodney asked in alarm.
"He's right there," Halt replied dully, ignoring his second question and using his bow tip to point towards Will, now walking forward glumly to retrieve Halt's arrow.
"STAY FOCUSED!" Rodney bellowed at the apprentices who had jumped in fright as the arrow landed dead center. Then he turned his attention back to where Halt had pointed moments ago.
"Why in God's name did you shoot at your own apprentice?" Rodney asked, turning towards the shorter man in righteous anger.
"He misstepped and any guard that was paying careful attention would have seen his arms," Halt replied nonchalantly.
"Okay… But why'd you shoot at him?"
"If a guard saw a strange arm floating around where there isn't supposed to be one, they'd shoot at it. It's good practice to get Will to stop making mistakes."
"But… why not just tell him after the exercise is over?" Rodney pushed incredulously.
"There's more at stake this way. He'll be more nervous and it's more realistic," replied Halt, watching his apprentice's careful movement from target to target.
"But-"
Halt cursed in annoyance under his breath before rounding on the battlemaster, his eyes glaring daggers at the much taller man. "I'm shooting at him. I'm not actually shooting him! I can control where I shoot, you know."
"Okay, okay…," Rodney said, stepping backwards away from the Ranger. It really was never a good idea to make a Ranger angry, especially this one.
Still glaring at Rodney, Halt brought up another arrow and glanced slightly to the courtyard below while he let go of the string, before shifting his dark gaze onto Rodney once more. Rodney stiffened in surprise and watched the arrow fly to hit the center of the last target in the row. A shadowy figure stepped forward once more and quickly plucked the arrow out of the ring, shoving it in his quiver, and ducking behind the target again.
"Nice shot," Rodney commented.
Halt grunted and turned to face forward again.
"So how is Will going to get his bow back without being seen? That's quite a stretch of open ground between the target and the water pump," Rodney asked, tactfully changing the subject.
"If he's patient and thinks things through, he'll wait until the drill is over," Halt said unhelpfully.
Rodney nodded thoughtfully, but confusion still clouding his expression.
"The apprentices will be thirsty and will approach the water pump in one mass. He can slip in and hide within the group," Halt explained as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"Ah, I see," Rodney said. Now, he was determined to see some part of the apprentice when he moved and was carefully studying the last target.
Halt gave a slight shake of his head with the ghost of a smile, knowing that the battlemaster would never see Will if he stared at that one spot. Don't people know it's better to use their peripheral vision to see these kinds of things?
Will's fingertips were poised carefully against the dusty ground to keep him balanced, his free hand laying against his knee in a crouch. He thought back to how when he had first started moving around in such an uncomfortable crouch months ago, his knees would scream in protest and his ankles would freeze in pain. Now, he could sit like this as long as he needed to and could jump into action at a moment's notice. Which, coincidentally, was coming sooner rather than later.
"Last set!" the drill sergeant loudly apprised the first year battleschool students. "Then take a ten minute break."
Will could hear a few groans of pleasure escape the nearest students and Will counted down the called strokes of the sergeant, having inadvertently memorized the pattern while he made his way from target to target with the demands playing in the back of his mind. He glanced into the third row of students, finding the broad shouldered apprentice with brown hair and characteristic relaxed stance before the drilling routine. All the other apprentices were clutching their swords as if someone was trying to tear it away from them and they all had the point raised prematurely. But Horace was standing patiently beside his wooden mannequin, the sword dangling loosely from his side.
The drill sergeant began to call out strokes, some one after the another and other times with a slight pause in between, forcing his students' concentration to never waver. After a minute or so of 'bashing and whacking' as Halt would patronize, the drill sergeant called for a stop and thirty swords were sheathed with a whisper of steel.
Will turned in his crouch to face at a diagonal, parallel to the path many of the soldiers in training were taking towards the water pump. When a good clump of chainmail-clad apprentices were loitering between the targets and the far end of the courtyard where Halt stood with his watchful eye, Will skillfully pushed into a long roll out of the target and as he stood, he flicked back the cowl of his cloak so that hopefully, his hair would blend in with the other students. His cloak wouldn't, but this is when that wooden shield would theoretically come in handy.
He slipped his arm through the straps and used it to cover most of his green and gray bathed body, swinging it randomly as he walked to distract any onlookers from his cloak. He casually walked towards a small group of apprentices standing in a loose circle, talking animatedly with one another, but before they could notice and question him, Will turned towards the next group, making a zig-zagging beeline for the water pump that was painfully close, yet still too far.
Somehow, no arrow slammed into his shield or skidded overhead. No arrow was careening for the ground at his feet or the wall past his head. Will licked lips nervously and forced himself to concentrate and stay patient. He always rushed the last leg of a training exercise and was determined not to do that this time. All he needed was one group near him to start heading for the water pump, then he could just walk beside and slightly behind them with no one being the wiser.
There! The group he was just leaving had formed a ragged line and were now walking languidly towards the water pump. Will lagged behind, slowing his steps and keeping his head down and shield in between him and the group, and waited until they passed him. Then he matched their speed and followed behind a particularly tall apprentice that effectively covered him from Halt's view entirely. Apparently being short had its advantages.
Just ten more steps…
Almost there…
He could practically feel the wood of his bow in his hand…
"WILL! IS THAT YOU?" came a loud and delighted voice.
Will inwardly cursed and grimaced, not needing the arrow that flew overhead half a second later to tell him how loud that was. Battleschool apprentices either jumped back and watched the arrow as it skid across the stone wall or turned towards him, collectively realizing that there was an imposter amongst them.
"Horace," Will greeted through gritted teeth. Horace was standing by the water pump, waiting his turn as another apprentice finished filling his cup and was grinning madly at him. He jumped down from the small step surrounding the pump and sauntered towards him.
"What are you doing here?" Horace asked gleefully, a wide beaming smile stretched across his face.
Will glanced up at the balcony and saw that Halt was nowhere to be seen and neither was Sir Rodney.
Horace's grin faded and his eyes darted to the side, trying to gauge what Will was so worried about. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately.
"What's wrong is you blew my cover!" Will said exasperatedly. "I was so close and then you just had to scream my name loud enough for the whole fief to hear!"
Horace's brows furrowed as he tried and failed to follow Will's explanation. Will wordlessly handed the round shield to Horace who took it bewilderedly, now more thoroughly confused than ever as to why a Ranger was carrying a shield, but followed his friend with his eyes as the crowd parted before him, letting him reach the water pump. There, he stepped onto the small raised dias and stood on his toes to reach above the small umbrella-like cover hovering over the crank and withdrew his bow.
"I was supposed to steal this back without being seen," Will said, an eyebrow raised at Horace.
Will closed the gap between them again in a few strides and the apprentices turned back to their own conversations, already bored with the turn of events and keen on enjoying their brief respite as much as possible. Meanwhile, Horace held Will's shield limply from one hand and his mouth formed a perfect 'O.'
"Sorry," Horace said meekly.
Will sighed and studied Horace's face: his expression was set in genuine apology and he was biting his lip anxiously, waiting to see if their newfound friendship would be off to an even rockier start.
"It's okay," Will said. "I'm sure Halt will be giving me plenty more training exercises anyways."
"Too right you are," came a gruff voice from behind him.
Horace jumped as Halt materialized out of the shadows but after months of working alongside the Ranger, Will was hardly phased and simply turned to face his mentor.
Horace leaned to one side so that Halt could see him better even though Horace could see perfectly well over Will's head. "Sorry about ruining your practice thing, Halt," he said.
"That's perfectly alright. Will should have seen you beforehand and should have known that you were likely to shout unless he found a way to signal to you to stay quiet," Halt said.
Will nodded and accepted the criticism, filing it away in the ever growing list of things to improve upon in the future.
"Well I'd say you still did well!" Horace said hopefully. "I didn't know you were here until a minute ago!"
Will rolled his eyes and grabbed Halt's two arrows out of his quiver, holding them out to him.
"Wait, why were you shooting across the courtyard?" Horace asked, eyeing the arrows with some suspicion.
Halt glared at Horace, not wanting to have the same conversation as he did with Rodney. "Not this again. I was shooting near Will whenever an attentive guard would have seen him."
Horace nodded thoughtfully and to Halt's relief, didn't comment on him shooting near his apprentice. "So only three arrows? That's not too bad!"
Will inwardly cringed, knowing exactly what Halt was going to say next.
"Great. Will only would have died or been captured three times," Halt deadpanned.
Horace's optimistic grin slid right off his face.
"Better than four?" was all that he could offer.
Halt sighed and turned to face Sir Rodney who was watching awkwardly from the side, next to the drill sergeant, with all of the other battleschool apprentices nervously glancing at him in the midst of their casual chatting. The apprentice drill sergeant himself was standing with a perfectly straight back, hands thrust in fists at his sides and was clearly too nervous to strike up a conversation of his own with Rodney. Most of them felt the strong urge from their training to instantly stand at attention when he was within sight, yet here he was, eavesdropping on a conversation while they dawdled around him.
"Rodney," Halt said, just loud enough to cut through the noise.
"Yes?" he replied, stepping forward with some relief at being invited away from the silent apprentice.
"We'll let your bashers-and-whackers-in-training get back at it. Thanks for letting Will sneak in."
Will smiled sheepishly and looked at his feet.
"You never asked if I'd allow it, but I suppose you're welcome anyways," said Rodney with a good-natured smile.
Halt shrugged unconcernedly. "Ask for forgiveness, not permission."
"You didn't apologize either," Rodney pointed out.
"Who can remember who did what really," Halt prevaricated.
Rodney rolled his eyes and extended a hand. "Good to see you, as always."
Halt shook his hand and then said over his shoulder, "Grab my other arrow."
"See you, Horace!" Will called before hurrying off towards the black arrow lying peacefully in the dust a little ways away.
Horace lifted a hand in farewell and watched with a smile as Will rushed towards Halt, his arrow in hand, and passed it to his mentor. He couldn't make out what they were doing since their cowls were up, hiding their features, but Horace could imagine them talking to each other, discussing all things Ranger Corp. He was certainly glad that he and Will were on talking terms again. Or more accurately, for the first time.
I hope you all enjoyed part 1! Please let me know what you thought or if you have any suggestions for me. Part 2 will be coming soon!