Chapter 27
The Ranger Gathering was held every summer at the secret Gathering Grounds in central Araluen. All fifty Rangers from the fifty fiefs came, a few with apprentices, unless some pressing need kept them at home. They never made the time or location widely known, for the safety of themselves and their fiefs. It was a week of fun, of greeting old friends, making new ones, competing in games and tournaments, and learning new skills from one another. They shared news (and gossip) from around the kingdom, and drank copious amounts of coffee (and for some, ale). It was part business meeting, part faire, and always enjoyable.
Except for this year, Will thought as they rode toward the clearing where this year's Gathering was located. His heart was already fluttering in his chest and his palms felt clammy.
Toot, keeping pace alongside the horses, let out a short bark. "Hello, Gilan," Will called, remembering Halt's previous apprentice and his attempts to practice his unseen movement on Halt as they rode into the clearing the year before. He guessed that Toot's keen nose had picked him out immediately and that's what the warning bark meant.
"Hey!" Gilan's cry of protest came from Will's left, among a sunny grove of trees. Halt laughed, a rare sound coming from the grim Ranger.
"He got you, Gilan," he called to his former apprentice and dismounted so that he could give the taller man a warm hug. "I was hoping I could talk with you first, before we get into the Gathering," he said in a lower voice.
Gilan's voice grew serious also. "What about?" he asked.
"Will!" Halt called, and Will reined in Tug and slipped lightly off his back. He slid his staff out of its case behind his saddle and walked toward Halt and Gilan. Watching him move, Gilan sucked in a breath.
"What's wrong, Will?" he asked although he had a pretty good guess as to the answer and the blood drained from his face. Halt watched his reaction closely, wanting to use it as a measure of some of the others' reactions.
Will said nothing, merely stopped, holding his staff vertically in both hands. He had a pretty good guess about the thoughts racing through Gilan's mind.
Will was obviously blind. The way he moved, walked… the staff. Yet he was here at the Ranger Gathering where outsiders were strictly forbidden. Halt wasn't going to try to bring a blind kid to the Ranger Gathering, was he? The idea that Will could still be an apprentice didn't even occur to him until he saw Will wearing the bronze oak leaf pendant that signified his status as a Ranger Apprentice. Fully trained Rangers wore a silver oak leaf, and retired Rangers were given a gold oak leaf pendant out of respect for their service.
Gilan looked from Will to Halt, open-mouthed.
Halt watched the young man steadily. He had known him since he was a youth, looking to find a place for himself out from under his famous father's shadow. He knew Gilan's insecurities but he also knew his strengths.
Gilan was the only Ranger who carried and used a longsword. That aberration might make Gilan more open-minded to new ideas; on the other hand, it was something that Gilan constantly felt he had to justify. He was always trying to prove to himself and others that he was just as good with a bow and a master of unseen movement despite being the odd man out by carrying a sword. Rangers did not carry swords; knights carried swords, and Gilan seemed to feel the need to place his identity squarely with the Rangers despite wanting to use his skill with a blade that he had learned as a youth from his father.
Halt watched Gilan's face keenly as these thoughts went through both of their minds. Will merely stood quietly, his hands clasped around his staff.
Now that he was here, undergoing what felt like his first trial, he found that his body had calmed. Things would happen as they happened. He would be accepted...or not. He would do his best to show the skills he had learned, and hope the newer skills he and Halt had developed would interest them. But there was nothing he could do to ultimately make them accept him, desperately as he wanted it.
Gilan turned on his heel and without a word strode away toward the side of the clearing where his one-man tent was pitched. The set of his shoulders told Halt he was confused and upset. He needed time to process, to think, to wonder what in the world Halt and Will were doing.
Rangers had often been injured before, of course. If they healed and remained fit, they resumed their duties for the Corps. But if they were injured permanently, like old Berrigan, who'd lost his leg in a battle with the Skandians, they were retired, given a gold oak leaf and replaced with a younger, fit Ranger. That's just how it was. Rangers relied on one another for their very lives; they did not have time to lead one another about by the hand.
Yet Halt was obviously sponsoring the boy. Why would he do that? Halt of anyone was known for not making emotional decisions and insisting on keeping skills honed to perfection. How could he possibly think Will could compete in the trials without sight?
Gilan thought of the apprentice trial that they had given him this year: unseen movement. A blind apprentice would never be able to remain hidden and unseen by Gilan and his searchers. You had to see to know whether you were in shadow.
Gilan threw himself on the ground in his tent. He would have to wait and see, but he felt angry with Halt. The grizzled Ranger had pushed him so hard when he was an apprentice and though he loved the older man as much as his father, he felt a sting of injustice if he was now sponsoring a blind kid who would need help and coddling.
He would have to wait and see, Gilan told himself again, but he sure didn't like it.
In the sunny grove, Halt sighed softly. Without speaking to Will, he turned and mounted Abelard sadly. This was really going to be as hard as he had feared. He wondered if the other Rangers would even give Will a chance.
Will himself turned and mounted Tug, stowing his long, light staff in its case. He also felt subdued, but less afraid than he had in the days leading up to the Gathering. Now, he almost felt excited at the upcoming challenge. It was his to win, to show the Corps his worth, to show them that he was the Night Ranger they hadn't known they needed.
He urged Tug onward, following Abelard into the clearing.
They pitched their tents not too far from the common fire. The more gregarious Rangers chose to pitch their one-man tents nearer the fire in chummy groups, although most Rangers tended to be loners by nature and training. As a result, many of the tents were set up at a distance from the gathering places and from each other. Rangers' lives were by necessity solitary ones; maintaining distance from the common folk added to their mystique. They needed to keep a distance from the Barons on whose land they served as well. They were King's Rangers and were under his authority. Occasionally they needed to report on a Baron's actions to the King, so for that reason they kept themselves at a distance, living in cabins, for example instead of inside the castle where they might be beholden to the Baron for his hospitality.
Halt generally tended to enjoy his solitude and would have preferred to pitch his tent as far away as any of them, but for Will's sake he chose a spot closer to the fire. Will would have an easier time if he didn't have as far to go, and he needed to be easy to observe as he went about his activities. It was the only way he'd be able to prove himself.
Will himself was unusually quiet. He worked on pitching his tent, a task that had seemed easy at home when he practiced it, but now he kept fumbling the poles and guy-lines, then having to feel for them on the ground. He felt as though all eyes were on him and though he tried to remain calm, he still dropped the tent-poles over and over. At last the tent was erected, and he continued with his chores, rubbing Tug down with a rough burlap sack, and giving him some extra attention. The little horse knew him and accepted him, and he leaned his forehead against Tug's warm neck, trying to draw strength for the week ahead.
"A meadow with a stream for the horses is straight behind your tent a hundred meters through the woods," Halt told him, walking up to them with Abelard. "I can take Tug for you if you like."
"I'd better do it," Will answered shortly. He wasn't upset with Halt for trying to help; after all it was his reputation on the line as well. But Will worried that accepting help would make him appear incompetent to the other Rangers who might be watching.
Halt gave a non-committal grunt and walked away, Abelard following at his shoulder.
Will decided following the sound of their footsteps wouldn't be a bad move, so he took his staff and also drew in a deep breath. With Tug walking beside him, he made his way through the trees, following the receding footsteps of Halt and Abelard. Toot paced beside them, sensing his person's morose mood and mirroring it in his own subdued walk.
The meadow, when they got there, was a large one. It would need to support the grazing needs of fifty-three Ranger horses: forty-eight Rangers and five apprentices (two Rangers had to stay home). Will remembered the sight of so many shaggy little horses scattered around the field: blacks, greys, browns, dappled, spotted, bay… They were peaceable creatures and for the most part grazing amicably, although occasionally two of the males would feel the need to have a few words. Some squealing and biting usually was enough to settle their differences.
Will turned Tug loose and gave him a half-hearted pat. Then, he turned back toward the camp. He could smell the campfire and hear the hubbub of many ongoing conversations. A midday meal also had begun to cast its aroma over the camp. So he had no trouble knowing which direction to go. Toot also took it upon himself to lead the way, and Will felt like kicking himself for not putting on the dog's harness before he left his tent.
He wondered as he walked back through the widely-spaced trees why he was so confident in facing down an enemy who could potentially kill him, but so nervous about facing these Rangers. At least they probably wouldn't kill him, he thought with a wry smile.
He found his tent again with the help of his staff and Toot. The first thing he did was to put Toot's harness handle on.
To the young dog, the harness meant working and Toot loved beyond anything in the world to work. He perked up immediately and strutted in his harness. Will and Halt next spent some time teaching him the necessary landmarks Will would use for the week: the common fire, Will's tent, the privies (downwind from the camp), the horse pasture, the archery targets. Both Halt and Will were becoming accustomed to the curious stares wherever they went and were rapidly learning to ignore them. It was a habit they had learned in the village, and had begun using it now.
Just before the midday meal when the Gathering officially started, they were sitting together on the ground in front of Will's tent.
"Will! Halt! There you are!" The voice was Crowley's and it was friendly and welcoming. "Glad you could make it!" Crowley, tall and ginger-turning-grey, could command a crowd and his welcome meant the world to Will. Remembering the day he had spent at the cabin demonstrating his shooting and running to Crowley, so that Crowley would allow him to go on the mission to the north, he hoped that the other Rangers would be the same way. If they could respect his skill and see beyond their own ideas about blindness, they would see that he had a lot to offer the Corps.
If they only would see.