Shoutout to all those who reviewed, favorited or followed the story! You guys deserve a gold star, or a silver oakleaf!
RAPJ: Thx so much! I did enjoy my birthday, and here's the next chapter!
HB47: Thx. I do know who you are, but the way you worded it was creepy. Just saying.
ArieaCannaid: I hope this is considered an 'exciting tale'. Here's the next chapter!
I updated this late because it was my birthday on the 4th of Feb, (the second day of school), and all the homework we get in Yr 9.
But here's the next chapter anyways!
KEEP CALM AND TRUST THE CLOAK!
CHAPTER 2.
Four horsemen galloped out from the forest, screaming battle cries and brandishing an assortment of weapons above their heads. And those weapons were soon dropped when Halt and Will's arrows slammed into the men, sending them crashing into the mud without a sound, laying ominously still. The four riderless horses slowed to a trot, and stopped completely when no rider urged them on.
"Other side Will!" Halt shouted, wheeling Abelard around and drawing an arrow. Will copied his actions.
But in the few seconds it had taken them to deal with the four horsemen, Gerald had signalled for his men to attack. They galloped out from the bushes, and rapidly closed the distance between them and the Rangers.
Halt managed to take down two of them, and Will shot one, but there were still five men charging at them.
"Keep shooting Will!" Halt yelled, throwing his bow a safe distance away and urging Abelard into the incoming horsemen. He had drawn his saxe and throwing knife and was now slashing, stabbing and cutting at the enemy. Will was behind and slightly beside Halt, and took the opportunity to fire at the bandits. Unfortunately for him, most of his arrows glanced off the shields the bandits carried, or harmlessly thudding into the metal covered wood. Still, one or two found their way around the shields, managing to penetrate arms and legs.
By now Gerald had seen Will, and directed two of his uninjured to follow his lead and attack the Ranger shooting at their comrades. Together, they charged Will, brandishing swords and clubs, who saw them a bit too late.
Unable to unsheathe either of his knives or fire an arrow, Will was left almost defenceless as Gerald raised his club, planning on crushing Will's skull. So Will did the only thing he could think of. He brought his bow up, into the path of the descending club.
Will winced as the club cleaved his bow in half, sending splinters flying. As his bow shattered, so did his heart. He was vaguely aware that Gerald backed his horse away from him, yelling a command as he did so. Will was hastily drawn from the haze of grief, as the other bandits were upon him.
Will drew his knives whilst dropping the broken remains of his bow. He narrowly avoided being stabbed, and deflected an overhead cut before urging Tug to wheel around on his hind legs, confusing his attackers. Seizing the opportunity, Will launched into a series of attacks. Thrust… cut… parry… thrust… overhead cut… backhand cut… parry… thrust… . He didn't bother to watch as one attacker fell from his saddle, landing with a muffled thump on the muddy road. The riderless horse retreated from the metallic stench of blood, galloping away into the forest.
Will deflected a thrust, and threw his throwing knife into the remaining bandit's throat, killing him instantly.
It was then Gerald decided to attack.
Gerald watched as Will killed his henchmen with almost contemptuous ease, a safe distance away from the boy. He saw how young his opponent was, no more than a mere boy. He believed that although Will was a Ranger, he would stand no chance against himself.
That's where Gerald had made a mistake. Will was no simple merchant or traveller, who would tremble with fear at the first sign of an attack. Will was a Ranger's Apprentice. And even an apprentice would be difficult to deal with. But again, Gerald's pride overcame him, and he spurred his horse forward, charging the youth before him, club poised to kill.
If only it were that easy to kill a Ranger.
Will turned around in time to see Gerald galloping at him, and only had a few seconds to throw his saxe knife, hitting Gerald in the shoulder. Screaming in agony, the lead bandit clutched feebly at his shoulder, the movement hindered by the club and shield.
But now Will was defenceless, and Gerald recovered quickly. Throwing away the constricting shield, Gerald swung with his club, and Tug had to back away to avoid his master's skull being shattered. But Will, still consumed by grief and unbalanced, was never ready for the follow-up stoke. The club smashed into Will's side, and he heard several sickening cracks as his ribs gave way. Ignoring the flaring pain, Will grabbed a striker, silently thanking Halt for reminding him to screw them together earlier on.
Pulling his arm back, he threw the striker at Gerald, hitting him in the forehead. The force behind the throw (Will being only a meter or so away), was enough to cave the bandit's skull, killing him instantly.
Will watched, emotionless, as Gerald toppled from the saddle, landing with a muffled thud on the ground, before events caught up with him.
His bow.
Will swung down from Tug's saddle, forgetting that he was injured. He let out a gasp as the movement caused his side to burn with fire, and nearly collapsed. Tug saw his master swaying, and moved forward, allowing Will to lean on him, nickering in concern. Will ignored Tug, something he wouldn't normally do, and instead searched feverishly for his bow. Or what remained of it.
There! He limped forward, still leaning on Tug and clutching his side, to where the fragments of wood lay. The sight caused Will to fall to his knees, and he let out a choked sob. Gingerly picking up the two shattered limbs, he let tears cascade freely down his cheeks, leaving rivulets in the blood and mud that stained his face.
He ran a shaking hand over the polished wood, thinking. This was the bow that Halt had given him on his birthday. (Authors note: Will now has a birthday cause I'm sick and tired of him being sad and lonely and not knowing stuff about himself.)
It was the first time anyone had given him a present on his birthday. It was precious to him beyond measure. When his bow had shattered, so had his heart.
He distantly heard someone shouting his name, but he ignored it. He was too busy grieving the loss of his beloved bow.
Halt dispatched the last remaining bandit with ease. The odds of five against one hadn't bothered him. But where was Will? Halt had expected Will to shoot a few of his attackers, but there had been almost no sign of him after the volley of arrows. Will hadn't joined him in the hand-to-hand fighting, as Halt expected him to. But Will hadn't shown up.
Suddenly, Halt remembered that two bandits had left the main fighting group and galloped away behind him. That was where Will was.
The realisation came crashing down on the grizzled Ranger, who desperately searched the road for any sign of his apprentice. What if he was hurt? Or dead? Halt regarded Will as the son he had never had, and just the thought of him getting injured was almost too much to bear.
A glimpse of movement caught Halt's attention and his keen eyes could only just make out the kneeling form of his apprentice, as Will was still huddled in his Ranger cloak.
"WILL!" Halt shouted, galloping towards his apprentice.
Will was facing away from Halt, so he couldn't see if Will was injured or not.
Fearing the worst, Halt practically leaped from the saddle and dropped to his knees besides his apprentice.
"Are you okay? What happened? Will? Are you hurt?" The torrent of questions spilled from Halt's mouth, fear and worry preventing him from staying calm.
His eyes scanned Will's body for any sign of an injury, and found none. But that didn't make sense. Will was hunched over, his face screwed in a grimace and breathing heavily, so he was obviously injured.
"Where does it hurt?" Halt asked, hands poking and prodding Will to find the injury. He paused his searching when Will suddenly cried out in pain as Halt's hands brushed his side. Halt gently lifted up Will's shirt, flinching slightly when he saw the bruising on his apprentice's side. Assessing the damage, Halt found Will had broken two of his ribs. Thankfully, they hadn't caused any internal damage. Pulling off his own cloak, Halt ripped it into long strips, and wound them tightly around Will's torso, who gasped in pain at the increased pressure on his ribs. Once that was done, Halt leaned back, and only then did he notice that his apprentice's shoulders were shaking. Was Will crying?
"Will, what's wrong?" he asked, the fear that had abated came rushing back in like a flood.
" 'M fine." Will managed to choke out, his voice shaking.
"Then what's the matter?" Halt queried, somewhat puzzled by his apprentice's actions.
"Bow" was all Will managed to say, before he broke down again.
Only then did Halt see what Will was holding. His bow, or what remained of it. Understanding dawned on Halt as he studied the fragments of wood. This was the bow that he had made for Will, and given it to him for his 16th birthday. (Author's note: I gave Will a birthday, cause why not?) It was the first present anyone had ever given him, and it was precious to him beyond measure. No wonder Will was crying.
"Oh Will, it was just a bow. It can be replaced." There was a soothing gentleness in Halt's voice that Will had rarely ever heard before, and he turned to look up at the grizzled face of his mentor.
"It wasn't just a bow. It was a gift from you Halt. It can't be replaced." With that, fresh tears started to cascade down Will's face and he looked away.
The sight of Will crying and the broken voice in which he spoke was enough to bring tears to Halt's own eyes, a feat that had rarely been accomplished before. He regarded the shattered remains of Wills bow with sadness. It was broken beyond repair, and Will knew that. All Halt could do now was to comfort his apprentice.
So he embraced Will, avoiding his broken ribs and muttered gentle words of comfort. This way, Will couldn't see the single tear that Halt shed.
After several minutes, Will's sobs slowly died away to nothing, and Halt let go of his apprentice. He carefully gathered the fragments of wood, and wrapped them up in what remained of his cloak. Standing, he carefully helped Will up, who screwed his eyes shut as the movement jostled his ribs. Halt signalled to Tug, who knelt down in front of Will, making it easier for him to sit in the saddle. Halt mounted Abelard as Tug stood up again, nickering at his master. Will smiled slightly and patted Tug's neck, whispering something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm fine. Stop being a worry wart." Tug merely tossed his head and shook his mane.
"Let's go home Will." Halt said, turning Abelard around.
With that, they both rode off into the sunset.
(Author's Note: I was sick and tired of the rain, and thought that them riding away into the sunset would have been a nicer way to end the chapter.)
The story isn't finished yet! One more chapter to go!