A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I just started a new job and it took me a while to get settled in it/get up to speed with everything. I'm going to try to make sure that I get the next chapter out a little faster though, scouts honor X). So this chapter is a little fast-paced—especially the first 3/4ths—and by fast I mean it involves a lot of running XD I hope it proves an enjoyable read though! Thanks so much to all my readers! You guys are awesome!
Oceanera12: Thanks for the review! And thank you so much for your kind words/compliments. It really is super encouraging to read, and I really appreciate it. As for Halt being the only one who remembers maybe it will, or maybe it won't, stay that way XD And the same goes for whether or not things will go back to normal. I can promise that the ending won't be really tragic though (I'm not often a fan of those). I'll reveal who the contact is this chapter so you don't have long to find out. Sorry, I took so long to update—I hope it wasn't quite too long yet. Thanks again!
Dragonslover98: It's actually been pretty fun to write the developing relationship between the boys. X) So far, it's been a kind of one-sided in regards to trust and support so it was interesting to turn the tables a little. That question will be answered in this chapter—along with the answer as to what Evanlyn, Crowley, and Halt are up too. Thank you so much for the review, and the compliment; it made my day!
End3000: Thank you so much for your review and what you said, it really means a lot to hear/read. I'm glad you think I've handled the characters and their interactions well—I'm always super worried about getting that right. I'm glad that you think the pacing and worldbuilding is good too! (It's something I've been working on/trying to improve). It's awesome you caught that: I have tried to leave little clues here and there like that XD Thanks again for the review!
Ranger-of-the-shadows: Thanks so much! And your review made mine too!
Random Flyer: Yeah, bribe money should always be taken away from people like Tennyson and Morgrath XD Fallout is indeed a possibility :) You are indeed getting very warm/close in your predictions. And yes, Baron Douglass is definitely the petty and vicious sort: I'm trying to make sure I'm keeping his personality as close to canon as I can, after all. Thanks so much for the encouragement and support, it means a lot!
jaymzNshed: Awww thanks :3 I'm pretty excited to write about more of Gilan's backstory and why he wound up in prison (there is a good reason/explanation, I swear) XD. I should get to it fairly soon—just a few more chapters to go before the full story gets revealed. Thanks so much for the review! I really appreciate it!
TrustTheCloak: I'm pretty excited to write about that part—and hope it will sufficiently satisfy your curiosity when I get there. (Only a few chapters away now). Yeah, poor Gilan didn't have a very good birthday… It was actually pretty cool to write a little bit of a role reversal in that chapter—it kind of helped all three of them grow, I think, and learn to rely on and trust each other more. The Horace sharing his birthday was pretty fun to write for too. Thanks so much for the review! It means a lot and totally made my day. I hope you have a lovely day too!
Gerbilfriend: Aaawww, thanks :3 I think Horace and Will are epic too. (They are some of my most favorite characters). XD
Fawnfire: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you like the premise. Yes, I agree that Halt was probably born to be a Ranger XD Thanks so much for the compliments! You made my day!
FramedCuriosity: Hi! Thanks so much for the review and the compliments! I'm really glad you're enjoying it—that really makes all the hours I spent editing feel worthwhile! XD I really hope I can continue to pull it off well (I'll certainly try my best). I'm excited to take it further. Thanks again for the review! I really appreciate it.
Chapter 16: The Mountains of Rain and Night Part I
~x~X~x~
"How exactly are we going to get through that?"
Halt turned his head slightly to regard his onetime friend and then turned back to the sight in front of them.
"That is a very good question," he admitted grimly.
"You sound surprised," Crowley remarked, the smile evidenced in the tone of his voice.
"Not really. I'd noticed that you occasionally ask mildly intelligent questions." Halt's expression turned even more grim as he added. "I was more surprised about that." He pointed to the formidable-looking palisade before them. "I don't remember it being there."
The pair had tracked Evanlyn all the way to Three Step Pass—the entrance to which had been blocked and fortified by that wooden wall. Even from that distance, Halt could make out the forms of Wagrals patrolling atop it. It was obvious now that the princess was being taken to the Mountains of Rain and Night. That, in turn, meant that this was most likely where Morgarath was currently residing. Halt felt his right hand twitch unconsciously towards his quiver at the thought before he stopped himself.
The tracks they had been following had been fairly fresh: only hours old if Halt was to hazard a guess and Crowley agreed with his assessment. They both knew that, if the princess were ever to make it into Morgarath's clutches, the chances of rescuing her slimmed substantially. They needed to somehow overtake and intercept Evanlyn's kidnapper before he made it to Morgarath. Halt thought he had an idea on how to do that—but it would be cutting things awfully close.
"Which brings me back to the first question," Crowley spoke up again, breaking Halt from his thoughts. "How do we get through that?"
"We don't," Halt said in answer, glancing towards the cliffs that he had scaled what seemed like a lifetime ago in an attempt to get information about the Wargals. "We go around," he pointed the rise of rocks.
"You mean up," Crowley said with a faint smile. "You do realize that those cliffs are supposed to be impassible," he said with a grin, despite the fact that he was already surveying the cliff-face, looking for suitable hand and footholds.
"Nowhere is really impassible," Halt quoted their old mentor, earning himself a faint wistful smile and nod from Crowley, before moving to make certain that they had what they'd need for the climb: two sturdy ropes, spiked belaying prongs, and mallets for nailing the prongs into the cliff face.
This time, the climb was a little easier than Halt had originally remembered—though perhaps it was because he did remember it. He already knew the best paths and footholds. It was also better to have someone reliable to climb beside him. This time around, he didn't bother sneaking a glance at the Wargals and their new fortifications by traveling down that first substantial ledge. Instead, the pair continued straight upwards. The only noticeable difference between the climb now and the one he'd taken all those years ago was the temperature. The weather was quite a bit cooler than before, and Halt's hands were soon red with cold. He was just glad that it wasn't quite cold enough to numb his fingers.
Side by side Halt and Crowley climbed and supported each other, side by side they reached the top, and side by side they pulled themselves over it. Once over, they froze, checking to make certain that the coast was clear. It was. They didn't take much time to catch their breath; they were in a race against time and knew it keenly. The top of the cliff led them to a run of jagged boulders that dotted the landscape along with stunted gangly trees.
Without even needing to speak, they headed simultaneously towards one of the largest boulders that they could see. Crowley scrambled up it while Halt spotted him from below. Once he reached the top, Crowley crouched low, staying in a cloud shadow as he crested the peak in a crawl, cowl pulled low over his face. He turned himself in the direction of the road that led up from Three-Step Pass. He didn't move his head, but Halt knew he was tracing that path from its start to where Morgarath's fortress would be.
Halt saw Crowley tense fractionally. The Ranger waited a beat for another scudding cloud shadow to pass over him before moving with it and climbing quickly back down. He dropped the last seven feet. He straightened and then faced Halt, his expression earnest, worried.
"If we're going to intercept them before they get to the fortress, we need to hurry." He picked up his pace and Halt followed after wordlessly. "Even if we jog the whole way it'll be a near thing."
"You saw them then?" Halt asked.
Crowley nodded grimly. "They're only a few kilometers from the open grounds that lead to the fortress."
Halt gritted his teeth—a near thing indeed.
~x~X~x~
Evanlyn bounced uncomfortably atop the saddle. With nothing to hold on to—and no means to even do so when her hands were so tightly trussed—she could do nothing to brace against the horse's jolting strides. The man, who sat behind her, did nothing to help either. But, if she was being honest, his recent aloofness towards her was a great improvement to the blows and rough handling she faced whenever he did pay close attention to her, or whenever she displeased him in some way.
Evanlyn chewed the inside of her cheek, twisting her nearly numb hands in her lap in thought. She stopped that however when a particularly rough stride caused her to bite down too hard. Despite everything, she hadn't given up hope of finding some way out of this, some way to get free. And she hadn't once stopped trying either.
On her first day as Cordell's prisoner, she had spent the whole night stretching and sawing at the ropes that bound her to free herself. She had almost finished before he had awakened the following morning. She had tried to hide the evidence of her work from him as best she could, but hadn't accounted for the fact that he would be the type to physically check her bonds himself every morning. She winced at the memory. After that first attempt, he'd been especially watchful of her—so much so that the best she'd been able to do for the past few days was to keep her eyes open for any possible chance of escape. She felt a sinking feeling tighten in the pit of her stomach at the thought. She was quickly running out of time, she'd known that the moment they had been let through the palisade that had spanned Three Step Pass… and had only become more keenly aware of it the further up the pass they got. She knew that if they ever made it to Morgarath and his men, her chances of escaping would be slim to none. Her only chance was to make a move before that happened.
But, so far, no opportunity had presented itself—nor had she found any tool or means to help her either. She bit her lip as they rounded a bend in the road and the run of boulders they had been riding through broke off into open flatlands before a rise of cliffs, some higher mountain peaks, and the outline of a fortress. The setting sun cast the shadow of the fortress down across the open field before it, looking for all the world like a giant spectral hand reaching straight towards her.
She felt a cold sinking feeling grip her as she realized that time had officially run out. Her heart started pounding frantically in her chest. Ever since she'd been caught, she'd only ever focused on escape, trusting, blindly hoping that she would find a way—that an opportunity would present itself. Her breathing sped up.
She was too late.
As soon as Morgarath's fortress came into sight, Cordell reined in his mount to take it in. Evanlyn could feel the tension in the man's body lessen fractionally as the sight of his goal and destination came within reach. The panic in Evanlyn suddenly subsided into a rush of pure adrenalin as she realized that this was the opening that she needed. Or, rather, it was the closest thing to it, and quite possibly the only chance she was going to get. It didn't matter that it was wildly chancy.
As soon a she felt his muscles slacken and guard go down that minimal ammout, she flew into action. As she was sitting in front of him and was quite shorter than he was, she was in the perfect position to ram her head upwards as hard as she could into his jaw and throat. Bone smashed viscously into bone with a sickening crack. The force of her attack caused Evanlyn to see stars, but she ignored them in favor of the desperate wild elation she felt when she heard the man grunt and gurgle with pain and surprise as he fell away from her.
Without hesitation, she leaped off the saddle toward the right while he fell to the left. She landed awkwardly, stumbled and nearly fell without the use of her arms for balance and stability. Somehow, she managed to keep her feet as she took off towards the cover of boulders as fast as she could run, the sound of Cordell's pounding feet and angry shouts spurring her onwards.
She had only just the time to grimly reflect on how tired she was of being chased around by knights and wonder if it was possible for any of them to be any less original before she felt a rough hand on the back of her tunic. Her heart leaped to her throat with terror as she thrashed and pulled desperately away until she felt his grip break. Original or no, their ploy seemed always to work on her, and she hated it.
What she didn't consider was that perhaps she was selling herself short; the men she faced were often much bigger, stronger, and faster than she was. Yet, despite that, she had managed to survive, outsmart, escape, and elude many of them fairly successfully so far. She was far from helpless.
She doubled her pace, desperation lending her a speed she did not know she possessed. She was mere meters from the corner of the boulders before her captor's hand clamped down again on her sleeve. She felt her tunic rip and she stumbled, trying to regain her feet. She froze suddenly when something buzzed dangerously past her head. She heard Cordell scream in agony behind her. Turning, she saw him sprawled on the ground, an arrow lodged deeply in his shoulder. Panic mounted again until she heard someone shout her name.
"Evanlyn!"
She recognized the slightly accented voice at once.
"Halt!" she breathed, turning towards the sound.
The last she had seen of Halt he had been knocked down and surrounded by many enemy soldiers. She had been afraid that he… yet here he was. He had come for her. And he hadn't come alone she realized when she finally caught sight of him and another Ranger. They beckoned her towards the where they stood near a tall jagged boulder. A floodtide of relief filled her as she ran towards them. The relief only doubled when she was close enough to recognize the other Ranger as Crowley.
For a moment, it seemed as if they might all somehow make it to safety. She was a mere ten paces from them when everything went wrong.
A patrol had been heading down the road from the fortress and had spotted the small skirmish in the road up ahead. It was a mixed patrol, comprised of both humans and Wargals and was about thirty strong. As soon as the disturbance was spotted, the Wargals set off in immediate pursuit. To make matters worse, many of the humans moved off back towards the fortress to sound the alarm. Crowley only had time to slice off Evanlyn's bindings before all three of them were racing over the uneven ground of the boulder run.
"Keep your eyes on your footing! Don't look back!" Halt called to her and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She understood. If she looked back, she could easily trip on the uneven ground and, in this situation, even a minor sprain could be fatal for all of them.
Even as the sound of pursuit seemed to draw nearer, she refused to look back, just kept her eyes forward, carefully focused on placing her feet. But when another cacophony of sounds erupted to her left, she couldn't stop the reflex reaction to turn. Her mouth went dry as she saw another contingent of Wargals pouring in from a spit in the boulders to their left to join the ones that were already pursuing them from behind.
That small look cost her dearly. Her foot came down on a loose rock that rolled and took her ankle with it. She yelped at the sudden stinging pain and might have fallen but for Crowley's steadying grip—pulling her along beside him as they followed after Halt. The Hibernian led them towards a section of boulders that were clumped together in a way that made a sort of alcove. Evanlyn limped in beside Crowley and came to a stop.
Her ankle throbbed, but she knew she had been lucky. She had only rolled it, rather than having sprained or twisted it. Though it hurt, it was an injury she could walk off. But she had little enough time to dwell on that as she saw Halt gesture to a deep fissure in between two boulders –a fissure that would be just large enough for the average-sized man to fit in.
"We don't have much time. You and Evanlyn take cover in there and I'll draw them off. Once they're chasing after me, you'll have a clear path to the ropes."
Evanlyn paled even as her eyes widened as the meaning of his words hit her, and she wasn't the only one. Crowley stepped forward. His face was set in a frown, but his eyes were determined, stubborn.
"We can still all make it out of this together," he insisted.
Halt leveled a flat look at him, tilting his head towards the growing sound of pursuit. "You know there are too many of them for that—and even more are on the way. Even if we somehow made it to the cliffs before them, with so many, they would be able to stop us before we'd be able to make it down. Unless we have a distraction, none of us will make it out of here."
Crowley's shoulders slumped. He knew Halt was right, and he hated it. Nevertheless, he still made one last attempt.
"I could—" he started, but Halt cut him off before he could finish, already knowing what he would say.
"It has to be me," the Hibernian said more quietly. "You're the commandant, after all. Besides, I'll stand a better chance. I know the terrain better than you. I've been here before."
Crowly frowned at that piece of information but didn't really have time to dwell on it. Instead, he had to once again acknowledge that Halt was right. And besides, they didn't have any time left to debate or argue. Reluctantly, he nodded once, pushing Evanlyn towards the crack in the rocks, after placing a hand briefly on Halt's shoulder.
"Godspeed, Halt," he said as the Hibernian tore away.
Then he too crouched down into the fissure in front of the princess. He pulled his cloak tightly around himself and drew his hood low over his face. His knew that his stillness and Ranger cloak, when combined with the growing darkness, would render him almost invisible. He didn't have long to wait. Only seconds after he froze in place, the first of the Wargal party came into view. The rest thundered past and around their hiding spot in pursuit of Halt. Even though his field of vision was limited, Crowley counted at least forty of the beasts.
Crowley resisted the urge to close his eyes against the thought, knowing that even a slight movement could give his position away. All he could do was hope that Halt would stay one step ahead of their pursuers, and that he would manage to survive. Though they'd only known each other for a few days, Crowley already counted the grim man among his friends. He felt an easy camaraderie, as well as a strange inexplicable familiarity. They seemed to fit, and complement each other in a way that he had hadn't realized his was missing until the moment they met. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they had both been apprenticed to Pritchard—and it was like having a piece of his past. Regardless the last thing Crowley wanted was to lose him—especially not like this. The Wargals and soldiers continued past in a steady stream. But very few of them glanced Crowley and the princess's way and, those that did, failed to see them. Crowley's cloak and Halt were doing their jobs all too well for that it seemed.
Once they had all passed by, Crowley waited until he was certain that the coast was clear before beckoning the princess to follow. Together they slipped silently through the boulder run, careful to avoid straggling Wargals until they reached the cliffs that he and Halt had scaled earlier that day.
The princess only gave one last worried and pained look back towards the direction where they had last seen Halt before grabbing the rope without any further prompting. Crowley was impressed but not really surprised that she knew the correct technique for getting down quickly and easily—and that she could keep pace with him as they descended down to be swallowed by the growing night. Once they reached the bottom, they headed off towards and then into the tree-line—towards where Crowley had secured Cropper. Crowley helped the princess onto the saddle in front of him. It was only when they were several kilometers away from the Mountains of Rain and Night and Crowley had deemed it safe enough to slow Cropper's fast pace, that the princess spoke.
"You'll go back for Halt, won't you?" she asked softly, her voice catching a little on the words, and barely above a whisper.
The words and question seemed to stab at his heart. He fully intended to go back, for Halt's sake as well as for the sake of the mission he'd initially been tasked with. But first, he needed to get the princess to safety. He needed to take her somewhere where she would be protected, but not too far out of his way. Several thoughts and possibilities flitted through his mind before he brightened with an idea. He could take the princess to Highcliff Fief. It wasn't too terribly far out of the way and he knew that she'd be safe there. Lady Pauline, Baron Arald, Sir Rodney, and Sir David were there; they would protect her and could provide her safe passage to her father. He nodded to himself as he settled on a course of action. He only hoped that Halt could hold out long enough for him to make the trip to Highcliff and back. As they rode on through the night, the chill air seemed to still and warm for a brief moment before the first gentle flakes of an early snow began to drift steadily down.
~x~X~x~
Halt turned sharply around the corner of a jutting rock outcropping, slowing to a limping stop. His leg throbbed painfully in time to his beating heart. His breath came in shallow gasps. Where before he had been purposefully leading the Wargals on, now he had given that up entirely in favor of escaping. He had been desperately trying to lose them for the past several minutes now.
The darkness of night was proving to be a mixed blessing. On the one hand, the increased shadows and darkness had aided his unseen movement and helped in hiding from the Wargals, but it had also made the treacherous ground more difficult to see. As a result, he'd fallen badly. He could feel blood dripping steadily down his shin where he'd cut it on a rock. The ankle below it was twisted pretty badly, he knew—though it wasn't quite bad enough to stop him…yet….
He tore a swath off his tunic and used it to tightly bind his shin over the badly torn trouser leg. The last thing he wanted in this situation was to leave a clear blood trail for the Wargals and Morgarth's men to find and follow.
What he needed was to find a way to escape this situation quickly because, if he fell again, he knew that he might not make it. He had managed to buy himself some time by weaving through a shallow canyon and stand of boulders—but it wouldn't last long. He wouldn't be able to keep running for long either. He tested his weight on his injured ankle and winced. He needed a place to hide and he thought he had an idea of where.
He closed his eyes briefly trying to conjure up a mental map of this place from the last time he'd been here. When he had followed the old hermit to his hidden home deep in the boulders and ravines. He thought he just might remember the way—but it wasn't a certainty. Still, he knew he had to risk it: it was quite possibly his only option. He quickly limped off in a specific direction and soon felt his uncertainty start to fade as the way began to look familiar—that was until he walked straight into a dead end.
He clenched his fists, feeling his breathing accelerate enough to become audible as all sense of familiarity fled. This area was like a maze and the memory he was relying on was just too faded—fifteen years and another lifetime ago faded. He felt his mouth dry as the sound of pursuit grew more audible. The Wargals were catching up. Frustrated, he limped back the way he had come in an attempt to backtrack, find where he went wrong before it would be too late.
He was forced to walk several meters back before it finally started looking familiar again. The problem was that, when he again turned around, he was faced with three forks. He knew now that the left one was incorrect, but that still left a fifty-fifty chance between the other two. Time ticked steadily by as he debated, each second seeming to blare a warning that it was running out.
He tried to think back. He was fairly certain that it was the middle path, but wasn't positive. The ever-growing sounds of his hunters told him that he didn't have any more time left to debate with himself. Any moment his pursuers would round the bend. Deciding a hunch was better than nothing, he limped down the middle path.
For a while he was certain that he'd chosen wrong again… then things once again started looking familiar. He knew where he was—and knew too exactly where to find the hermit's hidden shelter. He wove his way through tumbled rocks and zigzagged between stunted trees and larger outcroppings; he even climbed over some lower ones. Finally, he made his way down a few tunnels. Then he reached it, a sheer face of granite that towered about forty meters ahead. On the surface, it appeared to be a blank rock face. Halt knew better though. He made his way to a standing out section of the granite that looked like a buttress. He ducked quickly inside a narrow split in the wall that was invisible until a person was nearly upon it.
Halt emerged into the wide cavern that existed just behind the opening. He made his way nearer to the back and then slumped down. Moonlight filtered in diffusely through gaps in the cavern ceiling high overhead, allowing Halt enough light to see by. There were signs that someone had lived here, but they were old. Though Norman the hermit might once have lived here as he'd done in the other time, it was obvious it had not been for quite a while.
Halt took a moment to catch his breath and tightly wrap his sprained ankle. He held completely still and silent the few times he heard patrols moving close by his hidden alcove and he waited. As the night wore on, the strange chill that had been persistent deepened as a sudden wind picked up outside and grew. Halt pulled his cloak more tightly around him, glad that he was behind the shelter of the cave wall. Soon the moonlight was completely obscured by a thick cloud cover. Then came the patter of icy rain that turned quickly into hail. Suddenly, the hail quieted. Halt looked up at what he could see of the sky through the openings and was surprised to see downy snow drifting gently in through the openings. Halt had learned that the Mountains of Rain and Night had their own weather system due to their proximity to the sea and the winds that persisted. All the same, he was under the impression that it didn't snow all that often here—especially not so early in the season. But there was no denying the fact that it was.
Then he shrugged to himself. With how everything had been going for him so far, it might as well snow too. Halt moved back into one of the smaller adjoining caves and settled in for the night. He had a feeling that he was going to be waiting for quite a while.
~x~X~x~
Will and Horace sat side by side near the fire making breakfast together. Horace sliced the tops off three apples and carefully carved out the cores before passing them to Will who filled them with a mixture of dried berries, crushed nuts, honey, and a little butter. Will then put the tops back on and proceeded to bury them in fire ash under the hot coals. By the time Gilan got back, the apples would be baked, soft, and hot—sort of like a fruit pie without the crust. Also, by the time Gilan got back, the potatoes they had buried earlier would be baked and soft too. Those potatoes they had made similarly to the apples but, instead of the honey and berries, they had stuffed the centers of those with an egg and salt pork mixture. The apples they'd have for breakfast and the potatoes they'd take with them to eat for lunch later while they were on the road.
Will's mouth watered at the thought. It was easy to make camp-fare, true, but it was very delicious. They were both some of Will's favorite recipes to have learned from Gilan—which he might have improved on just a little here and there. Truth be told, Will actually enjoyed cooking and was getting very good at it. Will and Horace buried the last of them and then settled back to wait for them to cook and for Gilan to return.
The mercenary had left early that morning to take some sort of urgent message to the town they'd camped near the night before—something about the Outsiders. Gilan hadn't really taken the time to explain fully: which was something Will noticed Gilan did occasionally for random matters like this… and something he always did when it came down to more personal matters. As Will thought on it, he realized that he really didn't know all that much about his friend in regard to his past: where he came from, who his family was, how he learned what he knew. His brows furrowed at the realization. Maybe that was just because Will really hadn't known him terribly long. Maybe Horace knew.
"Has Gil ever talked about his past to you?" Will turned to ask Horace then, unable to stop himself once the thought was in his head.
"Only to tell me, in not so many words, that he doesn't want to talk about it," Horace said shrugging, then added, "why?"
"I'm just curious, is all… curious to know where he came from and where he learned all the stuff he knows."
Gilan had given them some answers and explanations, of course, but not as much as Will might have liked. It was all rather unsubstantial and vague: "I spent a winter up north with some trappers. I've been hired many times by merchants wanting to make it safely across the King's land and parts of the contested lands; one of those groups had a cartographer. I worked at a tavern and inn for a few months, there was an amazing chef there. I helped a band of yeomen archers get rid of some beasts that were at large near their home, we hit it off well and I ended up wintering with them."
"Well, I know his father was a knight. And I'm pretty sure that he trained as one too." Horace said, shaking Will from his thoughts.
"I've been thinking about that, and I'm pretty sure that he trained as a Ranger."
"Rangers don't use swords, and they can't joust," Horace pointed out.
"Well, knights don't use longbows and saxe knives, and they don't move around like he does," Will countered.
They were both silent for a moment as they considered what they had said.
"Well, he can't have been both…" Horace finally muttered, sounding confused.
"Unless…" Will began, and Horace looked up at him, interested to know what he thought. Will was a good thinker after all. "Unless he got amnesia; you've seen how he gets kind of funny sometimes when you ask him how he knows certain skills or sometimes things. It's like he knows but can't remember how or why. That sounds like a person who has amnesia to me," Will, who had never known a single person with amnesia in his life, said knowingly.
"Yes," Horace said, nodding thoughtfully, warming to the theme and the theory. "It makes sense and could explain a lot, actually. Since his father was a knight, he probably trained as that first. They could have gotten ambushed on a mission and he could have got hit on the head and left behind because the other knights thought he had died."
"Then when he wakes up, he can't remember anything," Will put in, "And then a Ranger finds him and decides to teach him."
"Then they get separated somehow; and, during whatever fight split them up, maybe he gets hit in the head again and gets double amnesia."
"And can't remember the Ranger, or learning the skills, but he still has…" Will searched for the word Gilan had used then found it, "muscle memory?"
Horace nodded, "and after he got hit the second time it must have made him remember a little bit about being a knight, and where he's originally from since he does…" then Horace trailed. "But, if that's true, then why wouldn't he just go back to being a knight?"
"Because he likes this life better?" Will suggested.
Horace thought about it then nodded again, remembering something Gilan had told him when they first met. "He thinks that he's more useful to the people of Araluen as he is now than he would be as an actual knight."
The two of them grinned at each other, certain that they had stumbled upon a good idea. Then Will pursed his lips in thought.
"If only there was a way to know for sure."
"I don't see how we could unless we run into someone he knew or he has something that could give us a clue: like a knight's coat of arms or Ranger's symbol."
"He could," Will said thoughtfully, glancing towards Gilan's kit.
What was inside it after all? He wondered. Gilan might always have been fairly open as a person, but he was not so very open with his personal items. They were allowed into his medical pack and his supply of healing herbs. They could get into the cook-stuff: their supply of food, Gilan's frying pan, cook pot, and spit…but never into his personal kit.
Will really had no idea what all Gilan had in his personal belongings. And, as soon as the thought entered his head, he couldn't seem to get it out. What was in Gilan's bag? The curiosity started eating him alive and he shifted uncomfortably. He tried and failed to distract himself. Soon it got so that he could stand it no longer. After glancing around himself, he began creeping forward.
"Will," Horace hissed, "what are you doing?"
"I just have to know what's inside it," Will said, reaching for the leather satchel.
"But, Will," Horace protested, "That's Gilan's! You can't just snoop around in it."
"Aren't you just the least bit curious to know what's inside?" Will asked, turning to face him. "There could be something really interesting or clues even. Don't you want to know?"
"No," Horace said forcefully, "I am not going to—" whatever he was about to say was cut short as Will opened the leather satchel and made a slight humming sound as he saw what was inside.
"What is it?" Horace asked, moving quickly behind Will and looking over his shoulder to try and catch a glimpse.
There were many things inside, they saw. A fletching jig, some and steel broadheads, and other things for making arrows. There was a whetstone and some oil for maintaining blades. There was a small pair of scissors, a comb, and the razor knife that Gilan used to shave, as well as very small and flat piece of metal that had been buffed and polished so that it could be used as a passable mirror. There was also the prong of a grapnel, and various other useful odds and ends—like sewing and leather needles and an awl—all were well-kempt and neatly organized.
There were also two small drawstring bags. Inside the first was money. In the last lay two small bars of lemongrass and herb smelling soap. But none of this told them anything they didn't already know about Gilan. So they put it all aside. Something else caught Will's eye then: two small, thin, and unprofessionally hand-bound books. Will drew these out to look at them. They were a little on the rough and seemed to have been made in haste. But, despite that, it was obvious they had been made with care.
Will opened and thumbed through the pages of the first to see that it was a healer's book. It listed useful herbs and where to find them, as well as detailing basic first aid and treatment for various common ailments and injuries. At the very front, was a short inscription written in the same handwriting as the pages.
"Take care of yourself, boy. Try to stay safe," Horace read aloud, then added, "wonder who wrote it?"
"A healer, obviously," Will said and Horace glared at him.
"Well, I know that," he said with extreme patience. "What I meant was who was the healer to Gilan?"
"Somebody who cared about him, I think; it would have taken lots of work to make it."
Horace nodded, knowing he was probably right. "What about the other book?"
Will opened that one and saw that it was a little cookbook for camp fare, and it was written in a different hand than the healer's book. But, unlike the other, it bore no inscription. The two boys glanced at each other as they placed the books aside. They didn't know much more than they did before.
Then they peered inside the satchel again. There were several neat, yet small enough to be light, bundles of paper: neatly drawn and folded charts, warrants, bounty posters, and letters—most of the later, Will could tell by the signatures at the bottom, were from different people. There were, however, several letters from the same person, a certain Lady Pauline.
"Who is she, I wonder?" it was Will's turn to ask.
"A lover?" Horace suggested, but as Will scanned the contents of the top sheet he shook his head.
"It doesn't really sound that way; it sounds more like—"
"Did you find what you were looking for?" a voice asked cheerfully from directly behind them.
Both boys nearly jumped out of their skin in shock. They leaped to their feet, whirling around to see none other than Gilan standing directly behind them. It really was uncanny how he could move like that; they both found themselves thinking uselessly. The woodsman's arms were crossed as his gaze swept over his scattered belongings and the letters in Will's hands. The faint smile on his face decidedly did not reach his eyes.
"I..I-I.."Horace started to stutter, pale-faced and standing at attention.
Will stepped forward then. It had been his idea, not Horace's, to snoop, after all.
"It was my fault. I was curious, and well… I was the one who decided to look and—"
"I didn't have to look," Horace said then, stepping forward in turn. He was unwilling to let Will take all the blame. "I'm sorry, Gilan," Horace said and Will nodded.
Gilan blinked, but the dangerous look in his eyes didn't really diminish any, and any trace of a smile was now gone from his face.
"You could have asked," he said then.
Will shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, feeling more than guilty. Curiosity was well and good, so long as it didn't hurt anybody, he realized then. Gilan was an open and friendly person, true, but he was also, conversely, a fairly private one. Will respected and admired him, he was a friend and a good one—the closest thing he had to an older brother. Will didn't like the thought that he had betrayed his trust, angered, or hurt him. He swallowed and looked down, regretting his actions.
"I was afraid you'd say no," he said in a very small voice.
"You're right there. I might have said no—and it would've been my right, wouldn't it have?" Gilan asked quietly.
"Yes," Will said, flushing, "I'm really sorry."
"Very sorry," Horace added, despondently but earnestly.
"It won't happen again," Will put in and Horace nodded.
Gilan met both of their gazes levelly for a long moment and then nodded once as he recognized the sincerity behind both boys' apologies. That small spark of anger drained from his eyes.
"You can put all that back exactly the way you found it," he said then, steel still lingering ever so faintly in his voice. Both boys nodded, moving instantly to do as he asked, still shamefaced, but relieved that Gilan had accepted their apology and that their little slip up had not caused any permanent bad feelings between them.
Gilan, meanwhile, set himself down to begin the arduous process of plucking and cleaning the grouse he had shot for their dinner on the way back from the town before the meat spoiled. He couldn't really fault the pair for their curiosity, he realized then. He knew that he probably would have been too in their place—all the same… Although he didn't much care for anyone rifling through his personal belongings, it wasn't exactly the fact that they'd done it that was the problem—not really. He winced. He didn't know which would be worse: what they might find, or what they might think... He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts away with it. Snorting softly, he turned his attention to tending the grouse. He had not even truly begun before Horace moved forwards, having finished putting Gilan's things back with Will.
"I'll do that for you," he offered.
"And I'll cook tonight," Will said from where he was already removing their breakfast and lunch from the fire.
Gilan looked at the pair of them, a genuine smile growing on his lips as he recognized the peace offering.
"Alight," he said, handing Horace the bird. And, having nothing immediate left that he needed to do, he moved a few paces to the side, resting the small of his back against a convenient log and pillowing his hands behind his head, looking altogether too comfortable and contented.
"You know, this is nice," he said, grinning widely. "The two of you should apologize to me more often."
Both Will and Horace made simultaneous rude faces at him for that remark. Gilan chuckled before he grew more serious as he remembered something important.
"Before you get to it, I have something I need to speak with you both about." He sat up a little straighter and pulled a paper from his jerkin front. He had actually meant to tell them as soon as he'd gotten back but had been sidetracked when he'd seen all his things strewn about.
Will and Horace had, by then, moved closer to sit in front of him.
"Is that a bounty notice?" Will asked. "I thought we didn't need to take any more contracts for the winter?"
"In a way yes, and also yes," Gilan said in answer. Then, noticing Will's puzzlement, he continued, "You remember that Lady Pauline you read about just a moment ago when you went rifling through my letters?"
Will and Horace glanced down sheepishly at that reminder, but nodded.
"She's a contact of mine: a Courier, or member of the Diplomatic Corps—someone fairly close to the King."
"Is she the one you delivered the message to?"
Gilan nodded.
"How did you meet?"
"That's not important," Gilan shrugged. "What is important is that she occasionally hires me for jobs—ones that have more to do with the kingdom itself than typical village contracts."
"I take it they're more dangerous then, aren't they?" Will asked and Gilan nodded.
"Usually, yes. And it's the case for this one too. Morgarath is planning an attack, and the King needed to know more, so he sent one of his Rangers into Morgarath's lands to get the information. Lady Pauline wants to hire me to try and back him up—or get that intelligence myself for her if worse comes to worst."
He paused for a moment meeting the boys' earnest gazes before continuing. "It's true we don't need it for the money—although contracts from this contact of mine are usually pretty profitable. I know we are already set for the winter. But, with what we just learned about the Outsiders and everything else, it needs to be done for the sake of the kingdom. If Morgarath were ever to win the war… well, it wouldn't be good for business for us to say the least," he trailed but didn't need to finish.
"There's also something else," Gilan added after a slight pause. "I'm pretty sure that the Ranger that was sent into Morgarath's lands was Crowley—that's where he was heading when we ran into him."
"The one with the scar that we help to fight off bandits with?" Will asked and Gilan nodded.
"Even though we're technically even now, it doesn't change the fact that he saved my life once. He's a good man and, I'd like to think, a friend. I'd like to help him if I can. I've decided that I'm going—but this is probably going to be more dangerous than anything we've done so far so I'm leaving the choice coming with up to you. Mind you, you'd mostly be lying low near the border and guarding our camp if you came—and that's dangerous enough as it is."
He saw Will and Horace exchange glances that recognized a mutual sense of nervousness and worry, but also determination.
"We're coming with you."
A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you've a mind to; they feed the muse and help me learn and improve (also they make me happy XD). Also, don't hesitate to let me know if you have suggestions, questions, or feel that I could improve somewhere.
So, pretty soon everyone is going to start coming together for good: probably within the next few chapters—which is going to be fun to write for. Also, the next few chapters should bring about the rise of/focus on the main and final conflict (which many of my mini-conflicts have been hinting at or building up). We are probably in the last third or quarter of the tale (depending on how long it takes to write out certain aspects of the outline) in case anyone was wondering. XD
I wish you all the best until next time!