- CHAPTER TWO -
All That You Have (Something You Would Miss)
Nothing gets so bad
A whisper from your father couldn't fix it
He whispers like a bridge, it's a river spanned
- Brand New
"Will!"
Both Gilan and Evanlyn practically pounced on the apprentice as soon as he opened his eyes. He groaned softly. "Ouch," he mumbled. Gilan helped him into a sitting position, and Will leaned on the older Ranger as a wave of nausea swept over him. He groaned again.
"Feel sick?" Gilan asked, voice softer than it would have been ordinarily. Will grunted in affirmation. Gilan's mouth tightened. "I thought so. You probably have a concussion. What do you remember?"
"Um…" Will closed his eyes. "The bridge… Someone screamed. And then I got hit in the head with a rock, I think." Gilan nodded. Will frowned, and reopened his eyes. "What about you two? Are you all right?"
Evanlyn laughed, and after the difficulty of the past several hours the sound was like music to the ears of both Rangers. Her smile was contagious. "We're fine," she assured him. "We're more worried about you.
"Well, I'll be all right," Will said matter-of-factly and Gilan nodded, knowing where Will was trying to go with his reasoning and determined to put a stop to it.
"Yes, you will be. But you're not yet. So you need to take it easy, all right?"
Will frowned. He glanced around without moving his head—Halt had drilled that into both of them very effectively—and lowered his voice upon seeing that none of the Skandians were keeping a close eye on them. "What if we need to run?" Gilan steadily met his gaze, and so Will continued. "Gil, we all know our current situation is—um, for lack of a better phrase, really bad." If Will's words hadn't been so true, Gilan might have laughed. "If we see an opportunity, we have to take it."
Slowly, Gilan nodded. "You're right, of course," he murmured. Will gave a simple shrug.
"I'll just have to make do if anything comes up."
With Evanlyn on Will's other side, the two Rangers lapsed into a familiar silence. They had sat like this for a time after the Kalkara hunt, Gilan recalled. Of course, things had been difficult then as well, more so for Gilan than anyone else. The weeks in the immediate aftermath of his father's death at the Kalkara's (at Morgarath's) hand had been some of the worst in his life. Then of course, Gilan thought, it was only Tuesday. This week could get much worse.
Will sighed. "I miss Halt," he said finally, and Gilan looked over at him. With his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them he looked small.
"Yeah. Me too." Gilan smiled. "He always has the answer to everything, doesn't he?"
Will shrugged. "Yes, but—it's more than that. I mean—."
"I know what you mean."
Ever since his father had been the first victim of the Kalkara last year, Halt had always been there for Gilan. The death of his father orphaned Gilan at a still-young twenty-two, and he didn't think he could have handled it nearly as well, or at all, if it hadn't been for Halt. Gilan had been overwhelmed with grief, but never once had he felt alone in the world. Will was in a slightly different situation, having never known his parents to begin with, but the end result had been the same: Somewhere along the line, Halt had become like a father to both of them. It didn't need to be said.
They lapsed into silence for a long while.
Then Will frowned. "Is that—hoofbeats?"
Gilan listened. Yes, there were definitely hoofbeats in the distance, louder and louder, approaching their camp. Will twisted around to look behind them, and what he saw made his mouth go dry.
The Skandians scrambled to their feet as one. Erak cursed. "That's Morgarath himself on that white horse!" he exclaimed, and his second-in-command swore loudly. Gilan turned to Will, eyes wide.
"Your oakleaf!" he exclaimed urgently, in a quieter voice. As quickly as possible, the Rangers tucked their oakleaves inside their shirts. There was nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. This was their best chance at survival. At Will's other side, Evanlyn whimpered and shrank closer to him.
Morgarath's horse slowed down, approaching the camp at a canter. Will swallowed. The Dark Lord truly was a fearsome sight. He was dressed in armor, ready for battle. He had ash-white hair, a thin face, and cold, bloodless lips that tightened upon close examination of the camp. Black eyes lingered on the Araluen captives for just a second too long, and Will shivered.
"Captain Erak," he commanded in a peculiar, slightly flat tone. The Skandian stepped forth.
"With all due respect, the correct title is Jarl," the sea wolf explained. Morgarath nodded.
"I shall remember that… Captain." Erak took a deep, deliberate breath. "Now what is this?", and he gestured with one hand to the Araluens. Will and Gilan were thankfully bereft of their Ranger cloaks—with their simple brown and forest green attire, they could easily have been mistaken for farmers or simple country men, and Evanlyn was merely a girl.
"Slaves. We captured them in Celtica," Erak lied smoothly, but Morgarath seemed unconvinced.
"Celtica is mine, Captain. Slaves from Celtica are mine as well."
"The deal was that we fought for booty, slaves included," Erak argued, stubborn. Morgarath looked as if he were about to reply, when he stopped abruptly. He raised one hand, a pale finger crooked and pointing at Will's throat.
"What's that?"
Gilan turned to follow the Dark Lord's gaze with a sinking feeling in his heart, and surely enough one small ray of sunlight was glinting dully off of the silver chain that still hung from Will's neck. Morgarath dismounted with blinding speed and was in front of Will before they could blink, tearing the oakleaf and chain away from the apprentice's neck in a display of absolute hatred.
"A Ranger!" he snarled, nostrils flaring, and Will froze in terror. The implacable, mad fury in the Dark Lord's eyes rooted him to the spot while Gilan watched, horrified but helpless to do anything. "A Ranger! This is their sign!" Realization spread across his face. "This is the whelp that burned my bridge!"
At Will's side, he felt Evanlyn's smaller hand touch his own, fingers hesitantly wrapping around his. For a moment he wondered at her courage, to stand with him in the face of such terrible wrath.
Erak tried to intervene. "He's only a boy," he started, but Morgarath would have none of it. He released Will's oakleaf in favor of seizing his wrist in an iron grasp.
"He is no boy! He is a Ranger! And you!" He turned to Gilan, and now it was Will's turn to watch helplessly as Morgarath jerked the oakleaf on its silver chain into full view. "You as well!"
Gilan was young—very young—when Morgarath had been defeated. But the stories of evil and horror were as fresh in his mind as if they had been told yesterday. All his life, and all of Will's too, he would have been willing to bet, he'd been told tales of Morgarath and his legendary hatred of Rangers—a hatred which, ironically enough, had been triggered by Halt himself when Morgarath had first been defeated. And now, here were both of Halt's apprentices: captured and totally at the mercy of the man who hated their mentor and their kind more than any other.
If nothing else, Gilan thought, Morgarath didn't know exactly whose apprentices they were. At least, not yet. Now if he decided to torture them, which Gilan had no doubt he would enjoy—that would be a different story. Gilan didn't have faith in his own ability to withstand anything of that sort, and Will was so young he didn't even want to consider the possibility. And once Morgarath discovered the identity of the man who'd taught them—
Morgarath's fury was in his eyes. Outwardly, however, he seemed to calm. He kept a tight grip on Will's wrist with one hand, but he ignored Gilan, as if sensing he would never flee without the younger boy.
(He was right. Gilan spared barely a moment on the thought that he was unrestrained. If Will was held captive it didn't matter.)
The apprentice's breathing had evened out. His eyes were wide and scared, but when Morgarath's gaze pierced him he didn't back down or look away. Good boy, Will, Gilan thought to himself. He could see the potential Halt had noticed in him.
Apparently, so could Morgarath. The ex-Baron frowned slightly, looking down at Will through narrowed, black eyes. "You interest me," he mused in a slightly quieter voice. Will twisted in Morgarath's grip, but the knight's grasp was tight enough to leave bruises.
Morgarath looked back at Erak and spoke, his words sending slivers of ice through Gilan's heart. "I think I'll be taking this one with me."
Revision note! As I rewrite and replace chapters, I'll keep short notes about my progress at the top of my profile. If you want to know how many chapters have been replaced and where I am in that process, feel free to visit. (I also changed the chapter title for this chapter: The song is "Sowing Season" by Brand New, from their album The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me.)