Hello, back again! I decided to switch things up, and do this bit up here this time. Last chapter was named after the song "Point of Know Return" by Kansas (though I did have a few people guess it was from Phantom of the Opera, which I dearly love as well). The only person who guessed this one was *drumroll* CAITHLINN13! The misspelling with the "kn" was intentional, by the way; that's how Kansas spells it on their Leftoverture album. This week's song is called "Courageous," and was featured in a movie by the same name (which I didn't see, but heard was good). And yes, there is a Merlin reference in this chapter for those who want to find it. Think way back to the conversation that started it all...

Review reply to Daughter-of-Halt: Yep, of course I mentioned you :) I try to get in all the anons, and if I miss any it's a mistake :P but yes, the bromance is epic and will continue to be :) well thanks for your review darling, I'm glad you like it!

Review reply to Guest A: Glad you like :) here's another update for ya.

Review reply to Guest B: Thanks for the comment on the AU, it's really nice to hear what people think of it. And thanks for your unbridled enthusiasm :) and the review, duh.

Review reply to WarriorStar: I'm still pondering the Horace problem. The issue is, if he doesn't show up by the time I start book 4 then there are going to be a lot of inconsistencies if I do any other books with the canon of Horace becoming a knight at the end of Battle for Skandia. So I think he's going to show up somehow, but I don't know where. Agh. That's a long way in the future yet :) I hope that answers your question. Thanks so much for reviewing and I hope you like whatever I do with Horace...

~~~CHAPTER TWELVE~~~

This is our resolution,
Our answer to the call:
We will love our wives and children,
We refuse to let them fall

We will reignite the passion
That we've buried deep inside,
May the watchers become warriors,
Let the men of God arise...

It started with vague innuendos. They were so vague, Gilan actually wasn't sure they were intended for the purpose they seemed to be. Wolffang's crew almost acted like they were working up to something, and slowly, their words grew less and less ambiguous until Gilan could no longer ignore it. Because sickening as the idea might have been, the words which has previously been referring to Evanlyn were now about Will.

Will acted like it didn't bother him. During times when their service was required, his face was a mask of stony indifference. Gilan felt as if it was his duty to talk the boy through the abuse—because that's what it was, really—but he never knew how to begin that conversation, and so he never did. Will didn't seem to act any differently than he did before, and Gilan had almost begun to wonder if it was affecting him at all until the knife-throwing incident transpired.

Dinner began the way it always did. Will and Evanlyn set the table in the dining area while Gilan stayed outside and waited for them to finish. Slowly, the Skandians began to trickle into the main room, and once about half of the usual group had formed Gilan went inside to take Evanlyn's place.

He caught her gaze and jerked his thumb towards the doorway, making his meaning clear. She nodded once to show she understood and walked over to the door at the same time as he began walking over to Will. Their paths never crossed. They had engineered it that way, to draw less attention. And this was when the really difficult part began for Gilan, because they all knew that by steering the Skandians' attention away from Evanlyn, they were really just directing it at Will.

Tonight, however, didn't seem to be going quite so badly. Will grinned when he caught Gilan's eye and jerked his head towards the smaller table in the back corner where the food was kept before meals, waiting until Gilan drew closer to ask his question. "Which one d'you want?" These being Skandians, there were only two components to every meal: the actual food, and hard alcohol in some form, so the choice wasn't difficult.

"I'll take the ale."

Will rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm shocked, because you haven't changed your decision in a week. You know, you could at least give me a little variety here, Gil." Gilan scoffed as he headed towards the food.

"Yes, of course. When you turn eighteen."

Will grabbed for the large pot of stew and dramatically stirred it with the ladle. "I solemnly swear I won't drink any."

Gilan raised an eyebrow, his words and expression to similar to Halt's own that Will faltered for a moment. "Then I better not catch you near it." He ignored Will's second eye roll of the night in favor of reaching for the large container of ale. "This better not be your rebellious phase," he continued. "Every teenager has one around this time, you know."

"Shut up."

"And you have been mouthing off at me lately…"

"Gilan, shut up!"

"I'm just saying that it makes you wonder, is—"

Erak's fist pounding on the table interrupted their banter and signified the start of the meal. "I'll take the left side," Gilan said in a low voice, and Will nodded, heading to the right end of the table. While serving, their behavior was markedly different. Both worked silently, keeping their heads lowered so as to lessen the likelihood of accidentally meeting a Skandian's gaze.

Around them, conversation resumed. Typically, Wolfwind's crewmen talked amongst themselves and Wolffang's members did the same. The two groups rarely mingled, though they sat at the same table. Of the two, Slagor's men were noticeably more raucous, more belligerent, and often more drunk. Some nights were worse than others, and tonight was one such night. Despite Gilan's efforts to keep the level of ale at a minimum, it wasn't long before several of Wolffang's crew were slurring their words and standing unsteadily, and Slagor was chief among them.

Gilan, being the one serving ale, was constantly moving from Skandian to Skandian as hands were raised for more. Will, on the other hand, got to stand quietly in the back until people began calling for seconds. Slagor was the first to do so, and Gilan sent Will a look that said Be careful before moving to fill another oarsman's flagon.

Gilan didn't see exactly what happened. He heard a yell of pain and turned sharply, thanking whatever gods the Skandians had prayed to that the cry wasn't Will's. What he saw, however, wasn't much better.

Slagor was standing now, one hand wrapped around Will's thin wrist, a look of absolute murder on his reddened face. "You scalded me!" Gilan could practically hear Halt's voice running through Will's head as he watched him take a shallow breath, attempting in vain to twist his wrist.

"I'm sorry, but—you knocked against the ladle—"

Slagor's hand fell to the handle of the heavy whip he hung at his belt, and Will tried to struggle back against the man's iron grip. The Skandian only tightened his hold. "Speaking back to a skirl!" he shouted, shaking Will as he did so. "Insolent Araluen whelp—I'll teach you to be disrespectful!"

Unnoticed by most of the room's occupants (Gilan not included), Erak sat up slightly and surveyed the scene, most likely coming to the same conclusions Gilan just had. Slagor was drunk, that much was clear. And the boy hadn't done anything wrong—Slagor had been the one to knock his hand in the first place. Slagor might not have possessed the courage to strike one of his own muscular, well-build oarsmen, but beating a defenseless teenager? That was very likely. Gilan supposed Erak had come to the same conclusion, because he watched the jarl frown as he finished analyzing the room.

Gilan set the ale down on the table, movements quick and inconspicuous. No one but Erak noticed him ghost over to the next corner, which was slightly closer to Will. The smoky air was tense, everyone waiting for someone else to make the first move, and Gilan knew that Erak had to act.

As if on cue, the jarl leaned forwards and placed his elbows on the table deliberately. "Let him go, Slagor."

Wolfwind's crew immediately sobered. Erak's voice was quiet and measured, and when that was the case people usually stayed out of his way. When Erak shouted, he usually wasn't serious, but this was indicative of the exact opposite. Slagor, not being privy to this admittedly important piece of information, blustered.

"He was rude to me and he's going to be punished! We've all seen that you're not willing to do the job yourself, so I've got to do it instead."

Erak's eyes narrowed, and Gilan got the distinct feeling that Slagor's choice of words was not a good one. "It was an accident, Slagor. Let the boy go."

"He mouthed off to me!"

"He defended himself—the same way he will if you go after him with that whip." Gilan's eyes shot towards Erak, and he realized he wasn't the only one who'd noticed that as soon as Slagor grabbed for Will, Will had flipped the knife he'd been holding so that it lay flat and vertical against his side, concealed for the moment. Will was too smart to attempt to use it, but Gilan felt a lot better knowing that Will wasn't entirely on his own. Erak continued, seeing that most of the assembled Skandians were confused and wanting to keep it that way. "Besides, I'm not prepared to lose so much of my profit."

Slagor frowned. "I'm not planning on killing him—a dozen lashes never hurt anyone." Gilan's eyebrow twitched at the skirl's statement, but he said nothing. Erak gave a bored sigh.

"You see, Slagor, if you go after that boy with that whip of yours, he might not actually do anything, though he's fully capable of it. But the other one would probably kill you for laying your filthy hands on him in the first place, and then I would have to kill him as punishment. And so you see, I'm not prepared to lose a whole one third of my profit."

Slagor snorted. "They couldn't hurt me—neither of 'em." Gilan noticed with apprehension the slight slur the Skandian's voice was beginning to take on. "The boy is practically the opposite of dangerous—I could take him apart with one blow."

"He could kill you with less than that." Slagor gave a small laugh, but it was clear that the total seriousness with which Erak had delivered his previous statement had struck home.

"I suppose we can't have him actually kill you to prove it," Erak said, and his tone was just the right parts regretful and sarcastic to bring several snorts from his crew members. Reaching out, the jarl grabbed the keg nearest to him and pulled his knife out of its scabbard. It slipped out with the familiar hiss of steel on fleece, and Gilan immediately noticed two things about it: One, it did somewhat resemble a Ranger-issue saxe, and two, the knives bestowed upon members of the Corps were of a much higher quality craftsmanship. The knife was sharp regardless, and Erak was easily able to carve two circles in the wood, rather close together. He slid the keg across the table to the middle and leaned back in his chair. "Now, boy," he said, "those 'eyes' are a bit close together—but then again, so are Slagor's." A ripple of laughter came from Wolfwind's crew members. "Let's see if anything appears between them, shall we?"

He leaned forwards and focused entirely on the keg, and as he did so it was inevitable that everyone else did as well. Gilan saw Will take a deep breath as he assessed the situation in the blink of an eye, the same way Gilan was. Erak's intent was clear, and what he wanted Will to do was clearer still. The two Araluens weren't standing too far away from the door, in the event that a quick getaway was necessary. And the Skandians nearest to them were members of Erak's crew, not Slagor's.

Will had only a split second to make a decision, and his back was to Gilan. He was entirely on his own.

Gilan knew what he would do just before he did it. He saw Will take that telltale step forwards, extending his arm and sending the serving knife spinning through the air so that it landed not quite in the middle of the two eyes but somewhere very close, and he couldn't help the proud smile that made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. That had been an excellent throw indeed.

The Skandians' reactions were both amusing and satisfying. Slagor jerked backwards as if he had been burned, his chair scraping across the ground with a loud noise. Both crews were stunned, but only for a minute. First Erak's men and then Slagor's began to applaud the display of marksmanship. Slagor's crew were paid to do their jobs, Gilan knew, and didn't stick around out of any sense of personal loyalty—and maybe they, too, agreed that their employer was an arrogant bastard. For whatever reason, they were also enjoying their skirl's surprise.

Erak stood, and the clapping quieted. "Now, Slagor," he said slowly and deliberately, "this is the final time we have this conversation. That boy is mine. The girl is mine. And you will treat them as such if you don't want a repeat of tonight, with your head taking the place of that keg."

Slagor's face was burning red with humiliation and anger. He controlled himself enough to give one quick nod, which was enough to satisfy Erak. He turned to Gilan.

"Take the boy," the jarl said in a low voice, "and make yourselves scarce."

Gilan didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and placed a steady hand on Will's tense shoulder, steering him out of the main room and outside, towards their hut. Neither one of them looked back.

Will collapsed on his bunk, watching Gilan as he walked inside their hut and stood just underneath the doorway. Gilan blew a strand of hair out of his face as he tried to digest what happened. It had all been so quick, so sudden, that tiny details could easily be forgotten. Tiny details he couldn't afford to forget—like the drunken sway of Slagor's upper body as he tried to stand upright, and the way Slagor's hands had clenched into fists as Gilan shepherded Will out of the main room.

There was a long pause. Will was finally the one to break the silence, looking up at Gilan anxiously. "Gilan?" he asked, and Gilan looked over at him, waiting for the inevitable question. "Did I do the right thing, back there?"

Gilan heaved a sigh and walked over to Will's bunk, sitting down next to him and wondering if he was worthy enough to take Halt's place in putting the boy's fears to rest. "Honestly? I don't know if there was a right thing," he admitted. "But I can tell you that what you did was brave. And extremely satisfying." Will gave a little laugh. "And not to mention, that was a damn good throw." He bit his lip, debating whether or not to continue, and decided to go on. "I do think Halt would have been proud of you." I know I am.

Will instantly grew still at the mention of their master, and Gilan decided to leave him to his thoughts. A lot had happened in the past few hours, after all. He placed a reassuring hand on Will's knee. "Get some sleep," he said gently. Will nodded, still preoccupied, and Gilan moved over to his own bunk, lying down and staring up at the ceiling. He fell asleep thinking about Halt and wondering where he was, what was going on back in Araluen.

The next morning was like all the other mornings before it. Gilan was awake first, Will following not too far behind and Evanlyn after him. The three made breakfast together with minimal conversation and served it to their captors, standing back against the wall and enjoying the lack of demeaning comments sent towards the two young teens. Afterwards, Will and Evanlyn headed down to the shore to wash the dishes. Once they'd gotten about halfway through the pile, Will told Evanlyn that he would finish up, and Evanlyn walked back to their hut, telling Gilan that Will would be back within half an hour.

But there was one thing that made that morning different, because Will never returned.

Thanks again to everyone who reads/reviews. One quick announcement: After posting chapter 20, I'm going to take a break to revise. I've been rereading what I've got so far and inserting in-doc comments where I need to change things, and long story short (haha, pun) I have a lot of work to do. So after chapter 20, I'm going to replace chapters in groups of 5 once I finish with them before I post chapter 21. That's actually the reason this update is so horrifically late (I know, I know, I'm so sorry). I realized I wasn't developing Evanlyn as a character at all, which is probably why you all hate her, and that things were moving a little too fast with not enough background to get them there. I also hate writing settings, so what I normally do is tell myself I'll write them later and then completely forget, and because of this there isn't a lot of context/base referencing for scenes. That's just to let you all know what's going on :) Please review! Oh, and if it ever takes me this long to update again, please feel free to poke me with a stick via internet. Thanks a lot for sticking with me, I really appreciate it and I love you guys all so much.