Chapter 23
"Are we alone?" Will asked first. As he spoke, Horace dismounted, and Tug nosed Will affectionately. Will closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling.
"I don't see anyone," Horace answered. "Where's Toot?"
Will explained how they had left Granny in Loudbrook with Toot and come back north to try and capture the three Scotti spies as the soldiers took care of the first invasion. He also explained how their plans had gone amiss and the danger Halt was in, along with the story he had told Penner.
"You Rangers and your sneaky stories," Horace said with disgust. "I would have just whacked him over the head with a rock right there."
"Maybe we should have," Will answered morosely. "But we would like to capture all three spies, and if we whack one, the other two will run back to Picta before we can blink. And I'm not ready for a mission up there."
Horace shivered. Picta was rumored to be a chilly wasteland inhabited by clans of half-wild men who would sooner throw a stone at your head than say hello.
"You're right," he agreed. "We need to capture them here if we can. You're the planner. What are we going to do?"
What indeed? thought Will glumly. When he had come this way, his main thought was to meet up with the soldiers and ask some of them to rescue Halt. But now that he was talking about it with Horace, he realized that doing that would eliminate any chance they had of capturing the three Scotti spies.
"Penner is with Halt at the inn," he began thoughtfully. "Do you think Halt…" he let the sentence trail off, unable to put his fears into words.
"Halt's fine," Horace assured his friend. "Listen, we know now that Leander was poisoned. Halt's not going to fall in that trap. And he is smart and knows which people to watch and which ones to trust."
"That makes sense," Will agreed.
"I'm guessing Halt will capture Penner and what's her name? The innkeeper's wife."
"Moira," Will supplied. "In that case, he would want me to go after MacDougal. In the woods."
"Do you think he's still up there? Wasn't Penner going to fetch him?" Horace asked.
"I'm not sure," Will answered. "Only if he believes Halt's story that I'm a horse-thief. By now they probably have noticed that I'm gone, so they might not bother. Speaking of horse-thieves, they think you're the one who stole Tug," he added with a grin.
"Fantastic," Horace commented dryly. "So we go after MacDougal then?"
"I guess so," Will concluded. "I need to communicate with Halt somehow," he added with a furrowed brow.
"And you need to find MacDougal out in the middle of the woods," Horace reminded him.
"One problem at a time," laughed Will. "Wait a minute! Didn't MacDougal say something about a signal fire? We can catch him there!"
Horace was silent, apparently working through the details in his own mind.
"We can't contact Halt and go over to the signal fire at the same time," he finally said.
Will paused to consider this. He knew he often overlooked important details in his hurry, and he appreciated his friend's habit of thinking through a situation, but he also felt impatient.
"We have all day to contact Halt," he argued.
"You're assuming the signal fire is at night," Horace said reasonably.
"You would hardly be able to see it during the day," Will shot back.
"I don't know," Horace said slowly. "In Battle-School at Redmont they were talking about a kind of powder that makes a colored smoke so you can signal with that."
Will snorted. "You think the Scottis have any of this colored smoke powder?"
"If they did, they wouldn't need to wait for night," Horace answered.
That made sense, Will thought. He sighed. Why was everything more complicated than he wanted it to be?
"Let's leave Halt and go to the coast," Horace said.
Will disliked the idea of his mentor not knowing what he was doing, but he supposed that it couldn't be helped today. They would have to trust one another; trust the skill and cunning of the other, and trust also that each would get his part of the job done.
Will took a deep breath. "Yes," he agreed. "We'll go to the coast."
"You can ride Tug," offered Horace.
"That's right," Will said with dismay. "You don't have Kicker."
"One of the soldiers is bringing him north for me," Horace replied. "I came ahead on Tug to scout the coast and try to find you."
"Hmmm, taking advantage of my superior Ranger horse, I see," Will jibed, knowing Horace preferred his big battle horse.
"Tug does kind of grow on you," Horace admitted, and Tug snorted and tossed his mane. "A lot," he added to Tug.
"Now you're talking to him too," Will muttered. "Bet he doesn't talk back to you though," he finished under his breath.
"I do if I want to," Tug answered, and Will glared at him. Tug relapsed into silence and stood for Will to mount.
"Is your arm all right?" asked Horace, as he observed Will's awkward left-handed grip on the saddle.
Once he got all the way up, ignoring Tug's comment that Will had climbed up like he was a haystack, Will settled himself in the saddle, felt his balance, and answered Horace. As they set out walking toward the coast, he told Horace about the robber attack and subsequent fight and injury. Horace listened quietly.
"Wish I had been there," he said finally.
"I wish you had been too," Will admitted honestly. Pride took a quick step back when his life was in danger, and Will would have vastly preferred his tall Battle-School trained friend help him with the fighting.
"You did well though," Horace added after a few minutes of silence.
"What do you mean?" asked Will, whose thoughts had wandered off in another direction.
"Fighting a big thief, alone and blind," Horace explained.
Will thought about this. His first reaction was to take offense at his friend's candor. But then he reconsidered. Was he alone at the time? Granny had no training in fighting skills nor was she armed. And yes, the truth was that he was blind. And no matter how many things he learned he could do, it still put him at a heavy disadvantage.
"I guess I did fight pretty well," he agreed slowly. Up to this point he only remembered the fear he'd felt when he thought he needed to rescue Granny and didn't know if he could do it.
Somehow, he'd felt like Rangers needed to be invincible, like Halt always seemed to be. A Ranger would never stand paralyzed with fear while a companion needed help. The burden of shame Will had placed on himself began to ease a little at his friend's words. Maybe it was all right that Halt had rescued him. Everyone, blind or not, needed a little help from time to time.
"I hope I don't have to face four by myself again soon," Will concluded with a shiver.
"I don't like those odds either," agreed Horace, and Will mentally thanked him for omitting the obvious phrase, "and I can see."
Will didn't know why he felt so touchy about being blind. He supposed that it had something to do with everyone assuming total helplessness as soon as they found out he had no sight. Conveniently, he forgot that he himself had thought the same thing only five months ago when he first lost his sight. It was only through creativity, Granny's teaching and constant practice that he had learned just how capable he could be, and he somehow unreasonably felt that other people should understand it too. He let out a sigh.
"A pennig for your thoughts," Horace teased.
"Oh, I was just thinking about the fight, and how my biggest fear when I went blind was not being able to do anything useful or make Halt proud," Will explained in a rush, hating himself for sharing such personal feelings, but unable to hold them in.
"You kept four highwaymen busy until Halt came, and even killed one, if I have the story straight," Horace said evenly. "That's pretty useful."
Will grunted.
"Oh, by the way, I nearly forgot! Here's your Saxe knife back," Horace said, handing it up to Will who used his left hand to slide it into its scabbard.
"Thanks," he replied, "but I don't feel very useful at the moment. I'm getting so dizzy I'm about to fall out of my saddle."
Horace instantly sounded concerned. "You'd better rest and eat," he said. "I'll go on ahead and see what's going on."
Will agreed and allowed Horace to lead him and Tug into a thicker area of woods just off the road. He pulled a snack out of his knapsack and took a drink from his canteen. Although he knew Rangers generally preferred to care for their own horses, he gratefully let Horace give Tug a drink. He allowed himself to fall flat on the ground and fell asleep.
Horace looked down at his friend with concern. Will's face was pale, and even in sleep a slight frown puckered his brow. Although Horace understood and accepted Will's blindness much better now than he had at first, he still disliked watching his friend struggle with things that used to come as naturally as breathing to him.
The tall Apprentice Knight shook his head, not one to dwell within his thoughts for long. He preferred action, and that's what he planned to do while Will rested. He covered his friend with the side of his Ranger cloak, and set a branch covered with leaves to hide Will's knapsack. They were off the road but a little extra precaution never hurt.
Horace then turned to Tug.
"Do you talk to Will?" he asked the shaggy little gray horse quietly. Tug pretended he hadn't heard and reached out his head to a nearby tree-trunk for a quick scratch.
Horace rolled his eyes. Ranger horses were nearly as annoying as Rangers themselves. He mounted the little, sturdy horse, turning him back toward the road. When he reached it, he felt a bit pleased with himself that he remembered to check for anyone else coming or going before he left the cover of the trees. He almost could be a Ranger himself, he thought briefly, but immediately dismissed the thought. He could never learn to move unseen like Will could do. He shook his head in wonder, remembering how Will had seemingly appeared out of nowhere a few hours ago. He'd naively assumed that now that Will was blind he would have lost some skill in that area but apparently not.
He turned Tug onto the track and urged him into the easy lope that Ranger horses could sustain over many long kilometers if they needed to. As he neared the coast and could see the stretch of ocean beyond the cliff, he slowed Tug, wanting to see what was happening before he was noticed.
Ahead of him, the cliff-top was empty. Green grass straggled out, giving way to dark rocks at the edge, and the path toward it and along it formed a light-colored T shape. Overhead, gulls called to one another. Beyond the cliff, sunlight sparkled on the surface of the sea, and clouds, just finished shedding their loads of rain, hurried across the sky.
All in all, it looked like a peaceful, idyllic scene, and Horace wondered for a moment if they were wrong about the drama that was supposed to happen soon.
He shook his head, turning Tug to walk south along the top of the cliff. As he neared the sloping road that led to the beach, he discovered part of what he had been seeking: a huge bonfire was built but not lit on the top of the cliff next to the road.
Horace reined in Tug, looking around for signs of the Scotti spies or the soldiers from Redmont, who should be nearing the spot by now.
He saw neither, and for a moment he hesitated about what he should do.
Then, along the southern road coming toward him, he saw two horsemen. As they drew closer, he recognized one of his fellow Battle-School apprentices, riding next to an older knight. These were obviously Redmont's own advance scouts. He raised a hand in greeting and waited for them to approach him.
As they rode up, each saluted Horace with a fist thumping his chest and then raised, the usual greeting of same-rank knights. Since they often wore heavy armor and were mounted on horseback, the gesture made more sense than a handshake.
"Sir Robin," Horace greeted the ranking knight first, and then nodded to his fellow apprentice. "Rodge."
Roger nodded back.
"This the place?" Sir Robin asked.
Horace glanced at the unlit bonfire. "It appears to be, sir."
"Rodge, go back and report to Sir George. We want the spies to light the bonfire and signal his troops ashore before we attack," Sir Robin ordered.
"Rodge, before you go, the road to the beach is just beyond there," Horace pointed. "The beach itself is only wide enough for maybe three horses abreast."
"Sir George and I will decide whether to pin the on the beach or intercept them here at the top of the cliff where the horses will be to our advantage," Sir Robin added. "For now, we stay well back beyond the wood."
Roger touched his fist to his forehead in salute and turned his big battle-horse to ride south. Horace half-smiled, glancing at little Tug. Will must feel this way all the time, he thought. Horace would be glad to be back in Kicker's saddle again; he couldn't deny it.
"Did you find the Rangers?" asked Sir Robin.
"I found one: Will," Horace replied.
Sir Robin, who did not know Will had gone blind, merely nodded. Halt had asked the Baron not to make Will's blindness widely known until it was decided whether he could remain in the Ranger Corps.
"Where is he now?" Sir Robin asked curiously. He assumed that a Ranger was probably off doing secret business, but if Horace knew, he wanted to know also.
"He's… errr… back there," Horace said, jerking his head back the way he'd come. Sir Robin gave him a sharp look but said nothing. Instead, he turned his horse to face the east over the ocean, mellow with afternoon light.
"Are you coming back with us?" he asked.
Horace paused. He wanted to retrieve Kicker so he and Will could both ride. At the same time, he didn't want to leave Will for too long, and he knew how fast things can go pear-shaped once the fighting begins. Already, he felt the breathless tenseness, the waiting, the feeling that only comes a few hours before battle.
Finally, he answered slowly in the affirmative. He'd have time to rendezvous with the soldiers, get his horse and kit, and get back to Will. He turned and followed Sir Robin south down the coast.