- CHAPTER NINE -
Wasteland

I'm the first one in line to die when the cavalry comes
Sometimes it feels like the great divide has already come
Yeah I'm wasting my way through days
Losing youth along the way

-Needtobreathe, "Wasteland"

The storm lasted three days, or so Gilan figured. It was less than a day in before Erak made the decision to turn around and use the storm to propel them to—somewhere. Gilan knew that there was a small island halfway between Gallica and Skandia, but he couldn't remember the name. It started with S. There we go, he thought. S again.

By the time the storm finally ran its course, the occupants of Wolfwind were beaten and exhausted. When Will and Evanlyn woke up, eyes red and salt-rimmed, the S-island was already in sight—just barely more than a faint line on the horizon. The younger Araluens hauled themselves up to stand by the railing with Gilan and watch as the water passed underneath the hull and the small island drew ever closer.

"I remember that," Will said. "Starts with S, doesn't it? Can't remember the name."

"Neither can I," Gilan replied with a shallow smile. "I can just see the look on Halt's face. We'd best not tell him."

"Well I don't know who this Halt fellow is, but I can tell you the name of that island," the first mate said as he came up behind them with a friendly smile on his face. He nodded towards the island. "That there is Skorghijl. We'll wait out the rest of these Summer Gales there."

"How long will that be?" Evanlyn asked, and the first mate shrugged. He set down the coil of rope he was carrying and rested his forearms on the railing next to her. Evanlyn suddenly looked very small.

"No one knows—until the Gales are over. Could be three weeks, could be a month or two. The name's Svengal, by the way."

"Gilan," Gilan said by way of introducing himself. There was no point to being closed-off or antagonistic. Plus—they might have been prisoners, but the Skandian was likable and his attitude was contagious. Will and Evanlyn introduced themselves in a similar manner, and Svengal went on to make conversation.

"They teach you Rangers much geography?"

Gilan shrugged. "We knew what letter it started with," Will put in dryly. Svengal gave an easy nod.

"'Course." He grinned. "That's the important thing. And you lot have never been to sea, anyway."

Gilan snorted. "Is it that obvious?" Svengal gave him a skeptical look, and Gilan relented. "You're right, we haven't. Evanlyn is from the middle south of Araluen, and Will and I are from just farther northwest. All of it landlocked." Svengal nodded.

"Thought so. So the two of you are brothers, then?"

Gilan frowned. Svengal's question was perfectly sincere, but he couldn't mean—. He looked over at Will, who currently had the exact same expression on his face. That probably wasn't helping things. "Us?" Will said finally, gesturing to himself and Gilan, and Svengal nodded.

Gilan recovered first. "Yes," he responded before Will could set the Skandian straight. He hoped his younger companions had the sense not to look too surprised at his lie.

Svengal nodded. "Guessed it. You don't look much alike, but sometimes you can just tell about people, you know?"

Gilan and Will nodded in sync.

"Anyhow, Skorghjil's not so bad. Not much to see, but things could be worse."

"Anything to avoid another storm like that one," Evanlyn muttered, and Svengal inclined his head towards her.

"True enough."

From behind them, Erak shouted for Svengal, the first mate's name followed by a stream of rapid Skandian. Svengal turned toward him and shouted a reply, then turned back to the Araluens with an apologetic shrug. "Work to do. But good to meet you." He nodded at them once more before turning and walking back toward the rudder.

"The hell was that about?" Will asked in a low voice as soon as Svengal was far enough away. The look on Evanlyn's face conveyed much the same question. Gilan just shrugged.

"The two of us are going to need to come up with false identities anyway, on the off chance that we get to Skandia and none of these men reveal that we're Rangers. Might as well go with the ones we've been handed."

"You think there is a chance?" Will asked quickly, and Gilan hesitated. He didn't want to be the source of any false hope. At the same time, Will was a Ranger. Apprentice or not, it was important that he knew the full reality of their situation.

"A slight one," Gilan proceeded cautiously. "The Skandian culture is based around honor, and their concept of honor is defined by courage and fierceness in battle. Halt once told me he respected the Skandians as enemies because he knew they would respect him. I suppose there's a small possibility that they show the same respect to us."

"A small one." Will nodded. "I understand, Gil. No use raising false hopes, and all that."

That was an idea Halt had drilled very well into both their heads. Gilan nodded his approval. "Good."

But Evanlyn frowned at this. "But surely you would want to tell Ragnak who you are? Surely he would be interested in contacting—the king, to ransom the two of you?" she asked, at one point stumbling over her words.

Gilan hesitated as he and Will exchanged glances. "Rangers in situations like ours usually aren't ransomed," the older Ranger said carefully. "More often they're questioned." The rest went without saying. Gilan knew that Evanlyn heard what he left unspoken because she went white. He gave her a gentle smile.

"Plus, Evanlyn—even if Ragnak did offer ransom, the Corps would never pay it," he explained for her benefit. Will, of course, already knew these things. "We try to keep the Corps as under wraps as possible. Most foreigners don't really know we exist, or they just know shadowy rumors. It wouldn't do to set a precedent that kidnapping a Ranger is a quick way to make a fortune, difficult as doing so might be." He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, but Evanlyn, we're on our own."

Evanlyn nodded, looking a bit paler than she had a minute before. "False identities seem like a good idea, then."

"Indeed," Gilan said. Deciding to lighten the mood a little, he turned to Will with a teasing smile. "So. Younger brother."

"I've never had a brother before," Will wisecracked with a straight face. "Should prove interesting."

"Should prove entertaining, from what I've seen," Evanlyn put in, and both Rangers grinned at her.

"I don't doubt it." Gilan turned back toward the sea and watched the small island as it drew gradually closer. Not for the first time, he wondered at what their future was to hold.

"Well, it's not much," he said out loud, "but I suppose it'll be home."

It wasn't much.

Skorghijl was a bleak, rocky little island in the middle of the Stormwhite. Gilan had never been so far north, but he noticed that two things were constant here: The wind was cold, and the sky was gray. So was the sea, usually. The pale vista made Gilan unspeakably homesick for Araluen's mountains and gentle green valleys.

There wasn't much on the island, either. A pebbly beach led up to a mostly-flat mainland, where a smattering of huts stood together before the ground gave way to the uneven terrain and rocky outcroppings that Gilan assumed characterized most of the island. But while it looked like a miserable place, Gilan noticed that it had been well-established. The huts were small and unimpressive to look at, but they were warm and well-built and offered protection against the chilly nighttime winds. A dug-in cellar in the largest hut—more of a dining hall—provided blankets and extra food supplies. However primitive the island looked, Gilan realized it had been designed and was frequently used for the same reason they found themselves there.

The Araluens were granted one hut for the three of them. It wasn't terrible, as far as prisoner accommodations went. There were four bunks for the three of them, which meant plenty of space. "And," Gilan said with a kind smile toward Evanlyn, "we have space to put up a curtain so you'll have some privacy."

Evanlyn smiled gratefully. It was to be admitted that at first she'd blushed at the idea of sharing such a small living space with two men. But she was also practical. She knew there was only so much deference a female prisoner could be afforded, and she knew she couldn't demand that her companions disadvantage themselves to accommodate her. More importantly than that, however, she trusted Will and Gilan.

"Thank you," she said. "Can't say I wouldn't appreciate that."

Gilan smiled back at her. "You can take that back bunk, then," he said, nodding to indicate one of the beds in the back corner, "And we'll use the blanket from this one—" he gestured to one of the two beds closer to the door— "to make a curtain."

Will sat cross-legged on the bunk across from the one Gilan had just pointed at. "It seems like we should settle in, anyhow," Will said, leaning back against the wall as he spoke. "Since we're going to be here a while."

Gilan didn't respond to Will's statement. Instead he nodded toward the bed Will had just sat on. "I'll take that one," he said, a deceptively calm tone to his voice. But when Will looked up, he saw in Gilan's eyes that he would tolerate no argument.

Will thought to protest but nodded instead, standing and relocating to the unclaimed bunk farther from the door so Gilan could sit on the one he'd occupied previously. With the bunk across from him empty and Will and Evanlyn across from each other in the back, it put Gilan on the bed nearest to the door—the bed between the younger two and anyone who might enter from outside.

Will wondered for a moment what it would be like if he and Evanlyn were here on their own. Then he banished the thought. Gilan was here. And whether they liked it or not, he would keep them safe however he could.

Things quickly settled into a routine. The days were divided by three meals—Skandians ate heartily and culturally, Gilan noticed. Food meant a lot to them. They also occupied themselves, for the most part. They rotated in crews: Some fished to supplement the supplies they had left, some worked at repairing the damage the wolfship had taken during the storm. Erak and Svengal assisted with these tasks, but they could often be found together in the dining hall talking in lowered tones—or at least, what constituted lowered tones for Skandians. (From what Gilan had been able to overhear, most of it was politics. Sadly, there was nothing useful in terms of either intelligence or their current situation.)

The Araluens were given most of the island's chores to do, which was no great surprise to any of them. The Skandians didn't mind doing their own cooking—they were particular about their fish, Gilan noticed, and he assumed they didn't want a bunch of foreigners preparing it the wrong way—but the three captives were given in full the unceremonious tasks like cleaning fish, serving food and ale, and washing up after meals. They all took the work in good spirits, knowing that things could be much worse.

In fact, for Will and Gilan, by the end of their second day on the island things were already feeling markedly less unfamiliar.

"Being apprenticed to Halt certainly prepared me for this," Will quipped as he knelt near the shore, swilling seawater around in the large iron pot that had served that night's stew.

This prompted a chuckle from Gilan and a confused frown from Evanlyn. "I don't understand," she said as she scoured another tin plate with sand before leaning to rinse it in the ocean. "You were an apprentice Ranger, which prepared you for...doing dishes?"

"Both of us, not just Will," Gilan said ruefully, choosing to ignore Evanlyn's accidental use of the past tense. "Halt was my master, too. And the first thing any of Halt's apprentices learn is how to do the housework."

"Thoroughly," Will added, and he and Gilan shared a grin.

"In fact, this isn't really so bad," Gilan continued. "My first week, I think all I did was clean. Cleaned everything. Cleaned it twice, three times. Started over when it wasn't good enough. This is a cakewalk."

Will frowned as he scrubbed at a particularly sticky something on the pot's inside with a handful of sand. "Maybe not a cakewalk," he ventured, "but there's nothing worse than Halt staring at you while you beat his rug."

"He sounds like a difficult master," Evanlyn commented. Gilan and Will both shrugged.

"He has high standards," Gilan said. "But he's fair. He makes you work hard because he knows it'll save your life someday."

"Already has," Will said, and Gilan nodded his agreement with the comment.

"He's not such a cruel taskmaster."

"Mind you," Evanlyn murmured, "neither are these Skandians, so far."

That was a point Gilan found himself pondering over more than once. While they weren't exactly well-treated, none of the Araluens were mistreated. They had three meals a day, and when they weren't being given work to do they were largely left alone. They were rarely even struck—and even then, any blows had been mild and only ever directed at him and Will. Gilan certainly wasn't complaining. But it also wasn't what he had expected from apparent brutes like Skandians.

In fact, none of the Araluens were to know it, but the members of Erak's crew had a sort of rough respect for them. Gilan had been right. Skandian society was one based around honor and courage—qualities the three captives had proven they possessed in abundance. The fact that the Araluens had been taken prisoner did not diminish their bravery or their accomplishments in fighting for their country. A Skandian didn't have to be friendly with an enemy to respect them, and unknowingly this was the position the Araluens had carved out for themselves on Skorghijl.

Still, they had been taken prisoner. And for Skandians, that usually only meant one thing.

They finished the dishes in silence. At Will's suggestion, they piled the clean dishes into the stewpot. Evanlyn carried the bigger dishes while Gilan and Will each grabbed the pot's handle with one hand and carried it together. They left the dishes in the meal hall before heading back to their hut, ready for a long night's rest.

But before they went to bed, Gilan had one final caution. "Things have gone well for us so far. But let's no one poke the bear, all right? We'll be here for some weeks, and our place certainly isn't stable. Best to stay on Erak's good side."

Will and Evanlyn both nodded. And with that warning in their heads, they fell into an exhausted sleep.

The next day found Evanlyn sitting on a long, flat rock several dozen meters from the water. The three Araluens had split up tasks after breakfast, and she had found herself done first. Gilan was still tidying up the meal hall. Will had been finishing the breakfast dishes, but Svengal had come over with his full fishing net and now Will and he were talking. They were about a hundred meters away, down the beach toward Wolfwind. Evanlyn frowned and pouted a little, settling herself more comfortably on her makeshift bench and reaching down to scoop up a handful of beach pebbles for idle perusing.

In truth, she was a little bored. Once again, as it had on Wolfwind before the storm, the uncertainty of being held captive was wearing away and leaving nothing in its place. Evanlyn was an active spirit and patience wasn't one of her best virtues. And in fairness toward her, she had never been in such a situation before.

With a roll of her eyes, Evanlyn dropped the pebbles and looked up and over at Will. Svengal handed him a fish as she watched and Will knelt down to clean it with an ease that made Evanlyn envious. She wished she'd had the opportunity to learn such skills.

"Hullo there," a voice came from behind her, and Evanlyn started as she realized it was Gilan. She swore.

"Good grief, Gilan, could you give me any warning?"

The older Ranger grinned at her. "Now where's the fun in that?"

He walked around to sit next to her on the rock and she scooted over obligingly. "What have you been up to?"

Evanlyn shrugged and tried to look casual. "Just thinking. And waiting for you and Will to be finished."

Across the beach from them, Will stopped what he was doing and gestured toward the sea. Svengal pointed in the same direction.

"He seems to be able to make friends with everyone," Evanlyn commented, and there was a tone to her voice that made Gilan glance over at her. There was a strange look in her eyes, almost wistful, as she watched Will conversing with Svengal.

Not for the first time, Gilan wondered whether there was something romantic between the two young people. He'd toyed with the idea of straight-up asking Will, but he'd already rejected it. The boy was vivacious and friendly and full of chatter, certainly, but in some ways he was rather shy. Relationships in general seemed to be one of those topics that made him go quiet. Gilan supposed that came with being an orphan—Will had probably never had adults who had spoken with him about such things beyond what was necessary. Or maybe he was even insecure about the relationships he did have. Gilan hoped that wasn't the case. But whatever the reason, Gilan thought it would be cruel to tease Will for something he was obviously not comfortable with. He extended the same reasoning to Evanlyn.

"It's certainly a knack he has," Gilan agreed at last. "It'll serve him well in the field some day."

Evanlyn frowned. "I haven't met—well, I didn't think there were many friendly Rangers, is all."

Gilan frowned imperceptibly at her slip-up, but mentally he shrugged it off and added it to the pile of confusing evidence he'd gathered about their young female companion. "Rangers aren't often friendly, exactly. But we are in the business of gathering intelligence. And what do you suppose Will's doing right now?"

Evanlyn followed Gilan's gaze, to where Will was watching intently as Svengal spoke and gestured out at the ocean. "I suppose," she said. "I'd never thought of it like that."

"Most don't." Gilan settled himself down on a flat rock to wait until Will was finished. "That's why we're so effective. People don't realize what we've done until we've already done it."

It wasn't much longer before Svengal walked away, their conversation clearly over. Will made quick work of the rest of the fish before standing and walking across the beach toward his companions.

Gilan waved him over. "What did Svengal have to say?"

Will shrugged. "I was asking him about the tide. He explained it, and...something about a great blue whale." He grinned. "Sounds like a bit much, but he certainly believes it."

Evanlyn seemed to accept his words for what they were, shrugging and bending back to her work. But Gilan frowned.

"The tide, you say?" he asked, and Will nodded.

"Everything about the sea is new to me. I think it's interesting. Svengal likes to talk, anyhow."

The causal look on his face was just a little too forced. It might have convinced Evanlyn, but Gilan knew better. Will had found something out, or he had seen something—something that might be useful to them.

But Gilan wasn't anxious or in a rush to find out. He didn't push Will any further. He knew that when Will was ready to share his thoughts, he would.

It was later that night that Will pulled Gilan aside with an anxious look on his face. "I'm not certain," he murmured, "but I might've found something."

Gilan followed Will outside their hut. He kept behind Will, noticing with approval the way the younger boy kept to the shadows and flitted between them even without his cloak. A non-Ranger would've found him difficult to follow with their eyes. Eventually, they arrived at the far edge of the huts and ducked behind a particularly large rock.

Will pointed. In the moonlight, Gilan saw with an initial thrill that a small skiff lay unattended and away from the larger beach where Erak's ship was grounded. "It's hardly ever watched," Will murmured, barely audible. "It seems like a long shot. But…"

He trailed off, but Gilan understood. He and Will were both Rangers to their core; it was galling to sit powerless and just wait, possibly for months, to act. They were both itching to get off this island.

But after a moment, Gilan shook his head, a disappointed tilt to his mouth as he voiced his assessment. "It's too small," he said regretfully. "And too far. None of us knows enough about sailing; we'd never make it back across the Stormwhite. And if another storm came on us in a boat that size, we wouldn't last ten minutes."

Will's mouth thinned in disappointment and self-recrimination as he realized the sense in Gilan's words. But Gilan nudged him with his elbow. "It was a good idea," he said encouragingly. "And you're right: If there's any way for us to get away, we have to take it. So if you see anything else, you tell me, you understand?" Gilan finished with just a slight air of command in his voice. He sensed that Will, having had one unsuccessful idea, might be hesitant to voice another new one. And for all his youth and relative inexperience, Will was clever. He had a natural knack for strategic thinking. Gilan didn't want to see him shut down.

Will nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Gilan clapped him on the shoulder. "We've got to keep our eyes open for a way out."

Will smiled gratefully at his older friend before taking his leave and slipping back to their hut. Gilan remained a little while longer with his own thoughts. What he'd said to Will was true. But Gilan was having a hard time believing it just then. As he stared out across the dark, glassy sea that held them prisoner as effectively as any shackles, Gilan had a cold feeling they wouldn't be escaping any time soon.

A quick note: There won't be any Will/Evanlyn in this story. (Actually, there won't really be any romance at all, because a) I can't write it, and b) I have no interest in doing so.) It just seemed reasonable that Gilan, who in my imagining is 22 or 23 on an island with two 15 year olds, would wonder.

Also, I have a beta now: The wonderful Belladonna Baggins! She is the absolute BEST and deserves much credit and honor.

"Wasteland" is by Needtobreathe from their album Rivers in the Wasteland. Can't recommend enough. That album's seen me through a lot.