A/N: Hi everyone! It's been far too long! I hope that you all are well and safe! My apologies for the delay but I was forced into a small hiatus by health troubles. I had such plans this summer to finish up this book and write some others but, needless to say, it didn't work out the way I wanted, which was more than a little disappointing if I'm honest. But at least I am back now. I was able, though, to get the bare bones for all the rest of the chapters outlined and started before I was so rudely taken out by life. XD I have an accurate chapter count now. So, if anyone was wondering, there will be about 6 more chapters left until the end of this book. However, I do plan to write a tag immediately following the end of about 3-4 chapters in length to complete this story and/or leave the door open for a possible sequel if time or inspiration strikes me to continue in this verse. Anyway thanks for your patience. I also wanted to give a shout out and thanks to all my readers, you guys are the best and make this all possible!
*Important note* So, Gilan's age… I had been trying hard to avoid this, and had worked hard to be vague and non-committal in my descriptions so as not to mess around with canon (as confusing and inaccurate as it may be in this specific area) or get angry notes from people telling me off for spoiling the story/breaking them out of the story by not choosing the age range they favor most. (There are no less than three different age ranges mentioned in four different books, after all—which I could cite and pick apart/analyze in relation to each other if anyone really needs—so it's a bit of a mess, to say the least. But for the sake of this story, I realized that I'm going to actually have to pin down Gilan's age into something more tangible for an event/memory of Jenny's to make sense in this chapter. Therefore, I have decided to make the command decision to take Gilan's age, as it is given in The Burning Bridge and Slaves of Socorro, as the age I will use for him here: basically 5 years (up to 8-9ish years at the most if you'd prefer) older than Will. This age range works the best for the purposes of my book, so I hope that seems acceptable to all of you. Thanks for your understanding.
Jammeke: No, not abandoned, thankfully—just a little delayed. I've been having a lot of fun connecting everyone's storylines together and have been trying hard not to forget all those previous connections. So I'm glad you think I've been doing alright with that so far. There will probably be a bit more Gilan and Sir David angst in further chapters: they've got a bit to work through in this verse, after all. Thanks so very much for taking the time to review. It means the world!
Djanka Lee: Thanks so much for the well-wish and the review! Glad you didn't mind the setup. I'm pretty excited to write what's next. Thanks again, I really appreciate it!
RangerPippin: Thank you so much for the compliment and the reviews, it really means a lot. I'm glad you like it so far. I'm looking forward to writing about the results of those setup points in future chapters. It's also been fun reassembling the pieces a bit and having everyone move forward. Thanks again for your review! It made my day!
KiiroDora: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you still find the story enjoyable and that you don't mind the little changes or think they're ooc. I'd always thought he was one of the more underdeveloped characters as well, so am really enjoying expanding things a bit. Thanks also for the well-wish. I hope that you are doing alright and are staying safe too!
Ziviah10: Thanks so much for the review and compliment! I really appreciate it!
Gerbilfriend: Yeah, there might be a bit of trouble coming for the characters in the future. I agree Alyss and Evanlyn are quite a fun pair. It'd be nice to see them together more in canon, I think. Thank you for the review! It was very encouraging.
Dragonslover98: Thanks so much! I'd been looking forward to having Halt and Gilan talk things out a bit, they both needed it, I think. There will be a lot of fun with the Skandians in later chapters, I couldn't leave them out of the action (they never like that). XD It was fun to write Will and all his friends together again, and yes there might be a little trouble for everyone in the future. Sorry about Crowley, I could fit his part well with the others this chapter, but I promise he'll be in the next. I hope that you are also doing well and staying safe! Thanks again!
CoffeeAndOakLeaves: Thanks so much for the review and the well-wish. I'm glad you are enjoying it so far. I do try pretty hard to, and worry a lot about, making sure everyone stays in character—so I was relieved that you think I'm doing okay in that area. Thanks also for the compliments and encouragement. You've made my day. I hope you also are staying safe and healthy!
OceanSparks: I do apologize for the cliffhanger and for taking so long to resolve it. Thanks so much for the review and the encouragement. It means the world to read! As for whether or not other characters will remember and when that might be, I do promise that I will get to that. I had thought that the people who knew Halt the most or were in the closest proximity to the stone going off probably have the most déjà vu, but other normal people probably get some odd bouts of déjà vu too XD. Again sorry for the delay. Thanks for making my day!
Chapter 24: Subversion Part II
~x~X~x~
Some Months Previous
~x~X~x~
Horace made his way out of the study halls with steps that rang light with excitement and anticipation for the first time in many months. Just the day before, Baron Arald had arrived with his entourage for a meeting with Baron Tyler and with him had come most members of the old Redmont senior staff. That included Arald's chef Chubbs—and, more importantly, Chubb's apprentice, Horace's old Ward mate Jenny.
Horace had been in the courtyard when Baron Arald had arrived and so had been there to see Jenny arrive as well. Seeing a friendly and familiar face after so long without, after the months of isolation and bullying he'd gone through ever since he'd started Battleschool, was like catching a glimpse of the sun after weeks of constant rain. He hadn't seen Jenny since Redmont fell several years ago. Horace and the rest of the Ward mates had been sent to Drayden castle to be kept safe, but Jenny had stayed with Arald's remaining retinue—having been apprenticed to Chubb despite her young age. The cook had been taken in by her boldness and skill when the young girl had snuck away from the Ward and into the kitchens one evening.
When Horace had seen her in the courtyard, he'd practically run to meet her, feeling happier than he had in ages. They'd had less than a couple minutes to greet each other and catch up—Horace being in the middle of a work detail, and Jenny in the process of being left behind by her party. But they had managed to set up a time and place for them to meet and catch up properly. Jenny had even gone so far as to promise to bring some treats from the kitchen so they could make a picnic of it.
It had given him something to look forward to. He'd hardly been able to focus on lessons all day and had only narrowly escaped a lecture on attentiveness during drill. He'd been able to repeat the form patterns and call numbers the instructor had demanded, to test if he'd really been listening, not because he'd actually heard the man, but because he'd thankfully already memorized all the forms and call numbers already.
Long story short, all his anticipation had made the school day seem to drag on longer than any day ought to have the right, but it was over now. He was free for the evening, free to spend what was sure to be many blissfully happy hours with a friend whose company and smile he'd missed dearly over the years.
He wondered how much she'd changed, how much he'd changed, and what she'd been doing while they'd been apart. He was certain she would have a funny story or two to share: she'd always had before. His face lit with a bright smile at the memory, steps quickening so that he'd be certain to get there right on time.
In hindsight, he realized he really should have paid more attention to his surroundings.
Three shadows fell across his path and Horace looked up to see the last people he'd ever wanted to. Ice seemed to settle in his veins, leeching the warmth from his body. His mouth went dry.
"Exactly what do you have to be smiling about?" Josh sneered in front of him while Talo and Gabe moved in from either side. "Especially when you nearly cost our class a mark today with your inattention during drill. Don't think we didn't notice."
"Maybe that's his goal: to fail and bring the rest of us down with him," Gabe suggested, coldly.
"Let me pass," Horace said then angrily, momentarily surprised at his own suicidal boldness. He regretted it as soon as the words had passed his lips, knowing well the three would make him pay dearly for it.
"Hear that?" Talo put in. "He wants us to let him pass, let him get away with making a mockery of all of us during drill today."
"Not to mention talking back to his seniors and betters," Gabe added.
"No. I don't think we will let you pass," Josh said with a sneer.
Horace's heart sank. Why couldn't these boys ever just leave him alone? Why did it have to be today of all days? Those despairing questions he asked as the three advanced on him. He took an involuntary step backward, an ugly sick feeling of dread growing steadily to replace all his previous joy.
By the time the three were finished with him, the sun was already starting to set. Horace, knowing bitterly that he was already an hour late, but hoping beyond hope that Jenny would, by some miracle, still be at their meeting spot, pushed his newly aching bruised body as fast as he could manage.
He finally reached the copse of trees by the stream to find…
Nothing.
Jenny wasn't there.
Disappointment and resigned frustration seemed to weaken his stance and he lowered his tired body to the grass, holding his head in his hands. He knew he couldn't blame Jenny for leaving; he was an hour late after all. And there really was no reason she would or even should have waited that long. Frustrated, he rose to his feet and kicked miserably, angrily, at a clump of grass. He'd missed his chance, and everything was ruined.
Then the anger and disappointment cooled a little as thought and sudden hope struck him. What if everything wasn't lost yet? Jenny might have guessed that he had gotten held up and gone to search for him or even just headed back to the castle. There was still a small chance he'd be able to find and meet up with her before lights out.
Decided, he turned and headed back to the castle. Twilight was coming on by the time he finally made it inside, casting long shadows along the grounds of the courtyard. It didn't take him long to spot a familiar figure. Jenny was there, basket in hand, talking to a group of Battleschool cadets in his year.
"Do you know where I can find Horace Altman?" Jenny was asking them.
"Horace?" One of the other Battleschool apprentices, Fyrnlee Horace recalled, asked, his tone a mix between wary surprise and disgust. "Why would you want to look for Horace?"
Horace found himself stopping short in the shadows at the tone, gripped by the almost irresistible urge to listen that often happened when a person started to overhear a private conversation about them.
"Why wouldn't I?" Jenny shot back. "I was going to meet with him after classes, but he didn't show. Is there something wrong in it?"
The cadets exchanged looks before Fyrnlee answered. "It's just that you look like a nice girl and it'd probably be safer for you to just stay away from him. He's not exactly a good person to be around. It's not surprising he didn't keep his word or your meeting—and it's probably better for you he didn't. "
"He's just trouble, plain and simple," another apprentice, one Horace knew was called Byron added.
Horace felt a stab at the words. He knew he wasn't held in high regard by the other students in his year, but to hear it said aloud was somehow worse than quiet knowledge.
He looked then to Jenny, hoping to hear her deny it, or at least reject their words—but she remained silent aside from a quiet. "I see."
In the dim light, Horace saw her brows furrow in concern, expression turning grim as the group of apprentices took their leave. She said nothing at all to refute them. Why hadn't she? Horace's heart sank as he realized, in that awful frozen moment, that she had believed them. The betrayal of that hurt worse than he cared to admit or acknowledge. She knew him—probably better than the rest of the Battleschool apprentices, but she had still believed them. She was no better than the rest of them.
After the long miserable months he had endured, he'd finally been given the bright hope of having a friend only to have that crushed and taken away with everything else. It was cruel and not the least bit fair. His face darkened in anger and he started forward. His head was so crowded with pain, loneliness, and anger that he found himself unable to even consider that there might be other reasons for the expression he'd seen on Jenny's face, other reasons for her silence, than the one he'd so readily jumped to in his hurt and insecurity.
He started forwards from the shadows, fury tunneling his vision as he approached her.
She must have heard him because she turned, face breaking out into a bright smile. A false smile, his mind supplied: false because it pretended that her conversations with the other students hadn't just had driven a proverbial knife into his back.
"Horace, there you are! I've been looking everywhere. What kept you?"
"Does it matter?" he asked darkly. "In fact, I think I'm glad I was kept away. I thought we were friends, but you're just like the rest of them, aren't you? You just going to believe them about me just like that?" he snarled, voice rising in anger as he took a menacing step towards her.
Jenny's smile faded quickly at Horace's outburst. Her concern and confusion soon melted away into defensiveness and anger as his accusations and actions turned sharp, threatening. She stopped backing and held her ground, feet planted, arms crossing, eyes turning fiery.
"I just might if you carry on like this," she said angrily. "What's gotten into you?"
"What's gotten into me?" Horace fumed. "It's you that's the problem. You're just a silly, peasant, cook's apprentice! I think I can see now why knights and warriors don't share company with the likes of you; you're not worth a moment of our time."
"Our?" she shot back at him, eyes blazing now with hurt as much as anger.
"Yes, our," he shot back. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a warrior, a knight, now. And I'm glad of it if it means I don't have to associate with people like you!"
"You're certainly something!" Jenny snapped back, tears starting to form in her eyes. "But if this is how you're going to be, I might be glad I'm now too beneath you to be your friend anymore!"
That only added to the hurt of it all and Horace snarled, pushing roughly past her, hard enough to cause her to stumble backward and drop the basket she'd so carefully packed for their picnic. Tears spilled from her eyes as she looked after him, tears that mirrored the sting he felt in his own eyes. But he told himself he didn't care, not anymore.
~x~X~x~
Will gently nudged Horace's arm into a better position. It was only by a couple of centimeters, but Will had long since learned that even a couple of centimeters could make a vast amount of difference when it came to proper bow technique.
"Try it now," Will said and Horace let the arrow fly. Even before it sank home into the target, the bigger boy knew it was much better: he could feel it as much as see it in the arrow's flight.
"Thanks," he said to Will, already drawing another arrow—intent of setting the correct feeling to memory with practice so as not to lose it.
He didn't have as much natural talent with the bow as Will, he knew. But Gilan had long ago encouraged him to learn at least the basics and get to a decent level of competence with the weapon on account of it being a good skill to know. By the same token, he'd encouraged Will to learn the rudiments of the sword. It was easy enough for both boys to swap weapons for a bit to practice. And even with Gilan gone, they could help each other with their off weapons easily enough. Their talents and strengths seemed to balance out and complement each other's weaknesses.
"About our mission," Horace said as they practiced. His voice was lowered even though he had no fear of being overheard as there was no one in the vicinity.
"I was thinking about trying to get close to the Battleschool apprentices. If a high ranking officer is leaking information to Morgarath, getting close the apprentices might help me get closer to them, get an idea what they're about."
"It's a good place to start," Will agreed. "But, are you sure?"
Horace nodded. "It'll be easiest for me to relate to them since I do have some experience, and no one there will know me. I'll be alright."
"Sounds like a plan then," Will nodded. "I was going to see if I could volunteer with the castle servants. I doubt they'd refuse and extra hand. And if anyone hears and spreads gossip that could help us…"
"It would be the servants," Horace finished for him.
"I was also thinking that maybe we could bring Alyss and her friends in on our search," Will said after a pause. "I was talking with Alyss and learned that she travels with diplomats and negotiators. If the spy is someone who's not in the army but is instead a high ranking noble, maybe she, or they, might overhear something that could help us. Also, her other friend works in the kitchen, and cooks often hear a lot—or so I hear. When we meet with them later today we can ask, you know," Will said enthusiastically. "I think we can trust them and that they'll want to help."
Horace said nothing, but eventually, he nodded grimly.
Will noticed Horace's thoughtful frown and, attributing it to the perhaps over-healthy sense of caution that had been instilled in them by both training and experience, moved to make a hasty assurance.
"What I mean is that I trust Alyss. And if she trusts Jenny and Evanlyn, then that's good enough for me."
Again Horace nodded.
"What's wrong?" Will urged, realizing then that Horace's mood didn't really have to do with what he'd initially thought.
Horace remained silent for a moment before he shrugged and sighed. "Have you even made a mistake: one you didn't really mean to—"
"Not meaning to is usually why it's called a mistake," Will broke in with a smile.
Horace glared at the interruption.
"Sorry," Will apologized, gesturing for Horace to continue.
"Have you ever made a mistake," Horace began again, "And now you're not sure how to fix it?" he finished in a small voice.
"Lots of times," Will shrugged, tilting his head to the side in a manner that silently urged elaboration.
Horace let out his breath in a short puff of air, knowing that Will wouldn't really be able to help or understand unless he explained everything. "It's a long story," he stalled hesitantly, trying to gather his nerves.
"Those are usually the more interesting ones," Will grinned, bumping him companionably with his elbow. "But seriously, I don't mind listening if I can help," he said brightly, knowing full well that Horace would do the same for him if things were reversed. "Besides it's probably not going to take much longer than all the time you've spent moping around these past few days."
"That's not really the point of saying: 'it's a long story', you know," Horace shot Will a look of supremely injured dignity at that remark, but eventually sighed and started to explain about Jenny and what had happened between them the last time they saw each other.
"So that's why you've been a little upset since Alyss told us about Jenny," Will said once he'd finished.
"I realize now that I was completely out of line, that I jumped to conclusions and said some really cruel things. I pretty much ruined our friendship. And I just don't know what to do about it," Horace said with a helpless gesture.
"Why don't you just apologize and explain it to her?" Will asked.
Horace gave him a forcefully patient, narrow, look. "I hadn't thought of that," he said, sarcastically.
Will flushed. "Well, it's not like there's a better option."
Horace deflated. "I know. It's just, what if she doesn't accept it or forgive me? She was always like a sister to me and I'd hate…" he trailed off into silence, head bowing.
Will put a hand on his shoulder. "Then she doesn't accept it, and that would be her loss."
"And mine."
"You'll never know till you try," Will said hopefully.
"I suppose you're right," Horace agreed wryly.
"And even if she doesn't accept it," Will's smile turned mischievous, "you'll always have me."
"Not sure that's such a good trade," Horace shot back, taking the opening Will left him, smiling too now.
~x~X~x~
Baron Arald was the first to break the grim silence that had overtaken the command tent.
"If what we surmised is true, then likely we will be facing a war on two fronts. Even if we stop the Wargal threat here, the Skandians could well lay siege to Highcliff Castle whilst we're occupied—especially since we have taken most the garrison with us. Or they could even lay waste to the towns and villages of the fief while the army has its hands tied."
"But we don't even have proof that this is the case," Rodney put in. "If we do spit our force to combat this problem, and it turns out our assumptions were wrong, then we will have lost significant manpower here—manpower that we need. We don't exactly have the numbers to be fighting on two separate fronts."
"And yet we might not be given that choice. If we don't risk it, we could lose villages or even the castle itself," David mused dully.
"It seems we've managed to get ourselves into a 'dammed if we do, dammed if we don't' sort of situation here," Arald agreed. "Regardless of whether we're right or not in our assumption, it would be too dangerous and irresponsible not to send a force to combat that potential. It would be riskier, I think, to do nothing."
He could see that everyone present was in reluctant agreement about that. Their hands were tied and they knew it.
"Sir David," Halt said then, "given the numbers we are facing, what is the greatest number of men you could spare to send to Cramelford without compromising our defensive force here?"
"It might put us in a tighter spot, but I'd say, fifteen cavalrymen, twenty troopers and maybe twelve archers?" David suggested, stroking his beard thoughtfully before turning to Arald. "With respect, my lord, I would like to offer my candidacy for leading the Cramelford party. I believe I am the more logical choice in this situation seeing as I know Cramelford well. Also, both you and Sir Rodney are more accustomed to working together and would most likely present a more unified front here."
Arald stroked his chin thoughtfully as he considered. "If we are right about the Skandians, then I believe the mission is indeed too important to be left to a captain. Very well," Arald agreed. "Sir David, you will lead the party to Cramelford. I also believe it would be to your advantage to take one of the Rangers with you," he added gesturing to both Halt and Gilan. Though he knew neither man was officially part of the Corps, they had the skills of Rangers and that was what mattered most at the moment in Arald's opinion.
"We'll need to get the army to Cramelford as soon as possible, which means that Sir David's party might benefit from having someone who knows the land and back trails better than I do," Halt mused thoughtfully. "I know Gilan's path through the woods here to the fenlands and so can lead the army when it comes time to flank the enemy."
"So you'll guide the army here and Gilan will join Sir David's party?" Arald asked looking to the young mercenary.
Halt looked to Gilan too, silently asking him if he would be alright with that. Now that he knew the more intimate details of Gilan's past, he wasn't about to force his former apprentice into going with Sir David without his consent.
The almost imperceptible trace of a grimace crossed Gilan's face but he nodded acquiescence. "There is too much at stake, and you're right about it being the most logical and effective choice," Gilan said carefully.
Halt could see that Gilan wasn't altogether pleased with the arrangement but he was willing to do what needed to be done. Halt nodded once, feeling a measure of approval at that.
"It's settled, then," Arald said, bringing an end to the meeting. "Sir David and Gilan, prepare your troops and make ready to leave at first light. Halt, work with Sir Rodney to see if there is anything else to be done to even the odds of our eventual attack more in our favor—especially since we are going to be losing a good number of our men. Dismissed."
The two Battlemasters, Halt and Gilan bowed respectfully before taking their leave.
The next morning found Halt by where Gilan was final checking his gear before setting out with David's party.
"Remember, if you get there and find no sign of Skandians, double back and see if you can't add your party's strength to the army here," Halt was telling him. "As it is now, we're cutting it pretty fine."
"Understood," Gilan nodded once, checking to make certain the girth strap was tight on Blaze's saddle. They were both keenly aware that dividing the army was going to put both groups at a disadvantage.
"And, Gilan," Halt began after a pause.
Hearing the subtle change in tone, Gilan straightened and turned to his mentor, eyebrows raised in question. Halt hesitated uncharacteristically before having out with it.
"Try not to take any unnecessary risks if you can help it. You and I are the only ones who remember; I'd like at least one of us to make it out of this alive."
"I think I might prefer both of us making it out alive," Gilan replied with a grin. "Besides, I'm always careful."
Halt snorted. "Perhaps you'd care to explain then why I'm constantly surprised you're still around sometimes."
"A wholly unwarranted lack of faith?" Gilan suggested with an innocent air that was spoiled by the mischief in his eyes.
"Unwarranted, is it?" Halt challenged back. "I seem to recall that you were the reason I went grey before my time."
"You can't blame me for that this time around; I wasn't even there," Gilan protested, hardly able to keep a straight face.
"I wouldn't be surprised if the effects reverberated through to this time as well." Halt countered.
Gilan laughed at that, before he sobered a little, coming back to the original point of the conversation as he met the serious look in Halt's dark eyes. "I'll be careful."
Halt nodded acceptance of that. But, before they could discuss anything further, Sir David made the call for his men to form up.
"Time to go, I suppose," Gilan said, earlier mirth fading away. A thoughtful expression fell over him as he watched his father directing the men under his command. He hesitated a moment.
"May I ask you something?" he said quietly, then smiled faintly and added, in an attempt to preempt Halt's sometimes over-fond use of 'you just did' in answer to that particular query, "present question notwithstanding."
Halt made a gesture for him to continue.
"All my memories are of you: the time I spent as your apprentice and a Ranger," he began. "It's just that I was wondering, I suppose. What was my relationship like with my father in that other time? I gather it was different."
Halt was silent for a moment before answering. "You always spoke highly of him, and he of you. From what I saw, you two seemed fairly close. And I'd always considered him a friend."
"I see," Gilan said, forcing his expression blank even as he tried to tamp down the myriad of conflicting emotions that came with that knowledge. He couldn't decide, at that moment, whether the knowing made it better or worse. Then he shrugged, bringing a casual, if not a little mordant, smile to his lips. "Suppose it's just another of those thoughtful changes we have Morgarath to thank for." It stung to think about—in a way that was altogether unenjoyable. The traitor Baron was altogether too good at bringing out the worst of everything and everyone it seemed.
Halt snorted in agreement, expression darkening. "All the more reason to upset as many of his latest schemes as possible."
"On that thought, I'd best be off," Gilan said with a nod, noticing that most the troop had already formed up. "Take care, Halt," Gilan said seriously, gripping Halt's arm once before letting go to mount his horse.
He guided Blaze to the column of men and took his place just moments before his father arrived. He inclined his head in greeting, a gesture that David returned. He even managed a smile, slipping it on with the ease and practice one might an old, familiar, shield or helm.
"We ready to go, Sir?" he asked. "Don't want the Skandians to die of old age before we get there to stop them."
"There's probably a bigger chance of us never reaching old age at all if we don't get there in time," Sir David said wryly under his breath as he brought his Battlehorse alongside Gilan's smaller mount and swung easily into the saddle.
"True," Gilan agreed with a chuckle, having heard him despite his lowered tones, "but I didn't think it politic to say that part aloud."
"Probably not," David agreed with a faint smile of his own before calling the order to move out.
~x~X~x~
Horace waited outside the scullery about half an hour before all of them were due to meet for the picnic outside the castle walls. Taking Will's advice, he had decided to try and catch Jenny before she left, so he'd have the chance to apologize before the gathering. He wiped sweating palms on his tunic, shifting nervously as the door started to swing open.
Then he straightened as Jenny stepped through them. She caught sight of him immediately, her initially happy smile turning polite, even a little wary, as she remembered, no doubt, the last meeting they had had. Horace winced internally.
"Ah, Jenny!" Horace began then, stumbling a little before just getting into it. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior the last time we met." He hesitated a moment before plowing forward, filling the silence with a torrent of words because he couldn't, at that moment, bring himself to face what might follow the silence. "I was cruel and out of line and I know I hurt you. I wish I could take it all back, I really do…. And I understand if you can't forgive me, but I—"
He was cut short as Jenny stepped forwards, putting down her basket to pull him into a warm embrace.
"Of course I forgive you," she said.
"You… do?" Horace stammered, surprised.
"Of course I do; don't be silly. You're my friend." She said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Jenny, for her part, had had a long time to think about that night, with the clarity that often comes from hindsight, and had long since decided that something hadn't been right, that something else had been going on to lead Horace into acting like that. At least, that was what she had hoped. She was more than glad to learn she had probably been right about that, glad to see him acting more like the boy she'd known before again. It made it easier to forgive, especially since he'd apologized. She leaned back to regard him then, fondly, but seriously as well. "Just so long as you promise not to do anything like that again."
"You have my word," Horace said then, sincerely, earnestly. In truth, he was surprised that it had been that easy. He didn't feel that it deserved to be, but Jenny had always been kind, always been easy going and friendly; it wasn't surprising that she would be forgiving too. Besides that, he decided then and there that he steadfastly refused to do anything that would risk their friendship like that again. It really meant too much for that.
"I'll hold you to that," Jenny smiled. "Would you like to help me carry the supplies?"
Horace, recognizing the peace offering, jumped quickly to accept.
"Certainly," He moved to grab up the basket for her, glad that he truly had not spoiled their friendships as badly as he'd thought.
"You're looking better," Jenny noted conversationally as they walked side by side. "How have you been lately?"
It wasn't long before they reached the place they'd selected for the picnic and the others arrived to join them. They all spent a couple of hours happily in each other's company, swapping tales and chatting until all the food was gone. An oddly comfortable, easy, camaraderie had settled over their little group and it felt, to Horace, that it was strangely right, strangely familiar.
A contented silence elapsed before Will glanced once at Horace, who nodded. Then he directed his attention to the three girls.
"Since we are all here, Horace and I had something we wanted to ask you. We wondered if you might be willing to help us with something important. Our mentor, Ranger Halt, and Baron Arald had reason to believe that there might be a traitor here in Highcliff, one who has some authority over the garrisons and means to feed information to Morgarath. We think that that person is probably the reason so many Wargals made it across the border. Horace and I were told to keep our ears to the ground while we're here, see if we couldn't suss them out or find any information on it. We were wondering if you three would want to help… help us keep an eye out I mean. We'd cover more ground that way." He finished, looking to Alyss who pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"If we did help or even found something, it would help Ranger Halt, Baron Arald, and… the King?" Evanlyn asked.
Will nodded.
"Then I'd like to help," Evanlyn said then. "Besides, it'll give me something worthwhile to do for a change, instead of just sitting around while other people risk their lives."
"I'd like to help too," Jenny put in. "I've heard of and even seen a little of what it's like in places where Morgarath leads attacks or takes control from Baron Arald, and even my own mentor. I wouldn't want that happening here if I could stop it."
"As an apprentice Courier, it's our job to look into situations like this," Alyss said. "It's part of what we're trained for, after all. I feel like I'd be letting Lady Pauline down if I refused. Count me in as well. What was your plan?"
"Horace and I thought that if all of us were to keep our eyes and ears open in different places, we might find a lead somewhere," Will said then. "Horace thought to get close to the Battleschool and officers, while I offered to help out with the castle servants. Jenny, you have a good position to listen to any gossip in the kitchen. And Alyss, I thought you might have the means and connections to get closer to the nobles who aren't officers or knights."
"What about Evanlyn?" Horace asked then, looking to where she sat across from him.
"I might be able to keep my ears open around the training ground and courtyard," she offered. "The guards and castle staff have gotten used to seeing me around there by now."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Will agreed, again looking to Horace who nodded once.
"You could also look to see if anyone new or different comes to the castle as well," Horace put in and Evanlyn agreed.
"So, what exactly are we looking or listening for?" Jenny asked.
"Anything out of the ordinary or someone acting suspiciously maybe," Horace answered. "If you overhear mentions of Morgarath or the Wargal army, that might be a clue as well."
"Also we could keep in mind the reasons why someone might want to be working with Morgarath, or willing to betray their country, and look at it from that angle," Will put in, remembering one of the lessons Gilan had taught him and Horace.
"Things like revenge, greed, connections, power, maybe even blackmail or threats," Horace ticked off on his fingers as he listed them off. "If a person has or shows any of those, they might be worth taking a closer look at."
"We should keep those in mind and focus on gathering as much information as we can," Will said then. "After all, Gilan is always saying that information is often the most valuable thing you can ever have. And he also said that knowing why is sometimes just as important as knowing what or who."
"Gilan?" Jenny asked, perking up slightly. "That's your mentor's name? There used to be a Gilan who lived at this castle, you know. I saw him once when I came with Baron Arald and his retinue. Though he was still an apprentice, I used to say that he was my favorite knight." She beamed, warming at the memories. "They sometimes held small tournaments here and let the apprentices join in."
Horace nodded. "They do that at most castles."
"I remember that when we came here once, when I was pretty young, they held a tournament like that. All the young castle girls had gotten together to see if a Battleschool apprentice would wear a kerchief of theirs as a token—like the ladies of the court did with the full knights. Anyway, I really wanted to join them and had just gotten a new scarf of my own. I was hoping that I could get one of the cadets to carry mine."
"And did any?" Will asked curiously.
Horace looked up at the question. When he'd first joined Battleschool, he had entertained thoughts of chivalrously caring the colors of beautiful maidens. It had been one of the many dreams he'd had about knighthood.
"When I got there, all the other girls teased me for even thinking to try. They told me that knights never wore the favors of peasants, and especially not orphan peasants. They told me no knight would ever wear an ugly kitchen cloth as their colors. And, compared to their silk or finely embroidered ones, mine did look pretty rough.
"Soon they made me feel so ashamed and embarrassed for even trying that I started to cry a little. Then they all just moved on and left me standing there. All I remember is that I wished that I had never come and that I didn't even want my new kerchief anymore. I remember crumpling it, ashamed of my station, and of crying in front of them."
Horace put a sympathetic and apologetic hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him.
"But that's when Gilan walked past, on his way to join the other knight apprentices who were near the castle girls." She continued. "But he stopped when he saw me, looked from me to the other noble girls, and then asked me if no knight had accepted my token. I told him that the others had told me no knight would ever wear the colors of an orphan peasant. 'This one does,' he told me.
"He wore it to the tournament and I loved him for it. He did better than all the others too in swordsmanship."
"You never told me about this," Alyss said. Already a diplomat to the core, she admired the young knight for his tact and kindness—despite the act poking a little at courtly protocol and tradition.
"I supposed it's because I was a little embarrassed; he was very cute after all."
"Jenny!" Alyss's face broke into a smile.
"Well, he was," she muttered.
Alyss chuckled and even Evanlyn cracked a smile. Will and Horace however, exchanged a quiet look. They knew that Gilan had lived here, but this was the first time someone had spoken directly about him. If it was indeed their Gilan, both boys knew they might just have gotten a little more information on the past their friend was always so closed-liped about.
"What did he look like?" Will asked, wanting to be certain.
Horace and Will exchanged another look when Jenny described him.
"He was almost always smiling and funny," she finished. "I remember that he didn't seem as arrogant, stiff, or formal as most of the other apprentices."
"That certainly sounds like him," Horace said in some surprise.
"What happened to him?" Will finally asked, curiosity burning almost uncontainably inside him.
Jenny frowned then. "That's the weird part; I've no idea what happened. The next time I visited the fief, he was just gone. And no one would tell me what happened. But I heard some people whispering that it was a shame or bad business. And some of the Battleschool apprentices got really quiet if he was ever mentioned, almost like they were scared by something. I'd always wondered if he got mixed up in the Kalkara incident."
"Kalkara?" Horace asked, unfamiliar with the word.
"They're vicious monsters controlled by Morgarath," Jenny explained. "Legend says that their claws and teeth can pierce armor and that they can freeze or kill a man with the power of their gaze alone. It's said that if they target you they'll never stop hunting you until your death—or theirs."
Horace couldn't suppress a shudder at that, the feeling of ice running up and down his spine at the gruesome description.
"The previous time Arald visited Highcliff—previous to the one I just mentioned, I mean—Arald had taken only half the retinue for the sake of speed: something he does when he needs to cover more ground more quickly. He, Sir Rodney, and the Battlemaster of this fief actually had to face one of those monsters when it slipped the border. I heard it killed a lot of people and a lot of knights before they were able to defeat it."
In short, it was an all together sobering and chilling story, Horace decided.
"I remember hearing about that from Lady Pauline," Alyss put in sadly. "I hope your knight wasn't caught up in that."
Horace frowned. He didn't really think that that was the case. Gilan had never mentioned anything about a fight with a mythic, horrible, monster. It was true that there were a lot of things Gilan didn't talk about, but Horace didn't think an encounter with one of Morgarath's monsters would be one of those things—if only for the sake of teaching Will and himself about it so as to increase their chances of survival. Nevertheless, he filed the information away, as he had a sudden thought. If he hadn't already had the suspicion of outside tampering, he might have thought nothing of it, brushed it all from his mind. But his suspicions were on high alert. Maybe he was wrong and overthinking things, but maybe there was a connection. Perhaps the reason the Kalkara had been able to slip the border all those years ago was the same the Wargals had been able to do it now. He could tell by Will's narrowed gaze and thoughtful frown that he was probably thinking along those same lines.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is always loved if you are willing or able. I know I promised Crowley in this chapter, but I had to move his bit to the next chapter to help the flow. This chapter felt a little overcluttered and long/jumpy with it there. The timing seemed a little off as well. But any questions as to what Crowley has been up to will be answered for certain next chapter. I also realize that this chapter was also a bit sparse on action as well, but again there were still pieces that needed moving into their places for the final battles/conflicts. Thanks for your patience on both counts.
I wish you all the very best until next time! Please stay healthy and safe.
(Edited 8/17 some weird things happed with the formatting on the author's note. I think it's fixed now though X)