A/N: Here is chapter three everyone. This one's a little long, but I eventually decided that, if I tired to break it in half, each half would be too short, so decided to leave it as it was. XD Thanks again for reading. I hope you enjoy.
Guest: I'm glad to hear that all the different perspectives worked out well together (which is much better to hear than: 'it didn't work') XD Thanks for the complement and the review!
Blurby: I'll see what I can do. I love pranks too XD Thanks for the review, I really appreciate it.
TheRanger'sDaughter: *throws confetti* you win the guessing prize! I'm not quite sure exactly how far I will be going with this, but I see what I can do. Thank you so much for the review!
TrustTheCloak: If all goes well you have the answer to that question in a moment X) I'm glad you like it so far. Thanks for the review!
pennydragon: Sorry about the cliffhanger… I hope you can forgive me, and hope that this chapter can help make up for it. Thanks for the review!
Dragonslover98: I'm glad you liked it, I was a little worried about that since we know so little about David. You'll get the answer to that this chapter. Thanks for the compliment :)
Chapter 3
"I don't understand what could ever be worth giving up everything you had just to join with them," Sir David growled. "Your position, your honor, your knighthood, your comrades, your loyalty to your kingdom and your fief? And for what? What price did they promise you that could possibly be worth that?"
Robert said nothing, his bearing as tense as before.
"It's not too late," David tried changing tack. "You can still do the right thing."
Robert turned around then, his face flushed with anger. "But, to me, this is the right thing! You see, I didn't join them, as you put it; they joined me. I paid them, gave them the location of this rendezvous point—all to get you!" he practically yelled as he towered over his captive before turning away again.
The admission chilled David. To find out that a man he had trusted had decided to work with lawbreakers against him was bad enough, but to hear that this man was actually the instigator of this attack was almost unfathomable. It made him feel sick. It had only been moments ago that he had considered this man a friend.
"Why?" he managed to choke out when he found his voice.
"Because of what you did, that's why!" Robert whirled to face him again. "You speak of giving up everything… I have already lost everything I cared most about! What I give up now is a fair cost to get some peace. You were the tactician behind the cavalry charge that cost my son his life! You were his commanding officer; which makes you responsible! He was my only family, all I had left, and he died because of your orders! And for what?"
David stared up at him. "They were my men and they died following my orders, implementing my battle plan, it's true—and I've never ignored that. But every one of them knew the risks and was willing to take it. We all took it. All of us were willing to die for our kingdom and for our families, to protect them. It was never for nothing... and your son... I would have given my own life to save him, to save all of them if I was able, but I wasn't. I never would have led them into battle if there were any other way, but there wasn't. And I'm sorry for that too."
"You say you feel his loss? You can never feel his loss as I have!"
"No I can't," David whispered, "and I won't cheapen yours by pretending that I do. But believe me when I say that I am sorry, sorry that it happened, that he died carrying out my orders, sorry that I couldn't save him or the others, sorry that the whole damned war happened in the first place," he said, every word sincere.
"You don't know how it feels, but you will! I have waited so long for a chance to get revenge, a chance to make it right. For so long I've pretended that I wasn't hurting, that I didn't hate you, and that I didn't blame you for what happened!"
"So what do you intend? Do you plan to kill me? Will you kill Edward too?" David asked, cool anger, defiance, pain and pity mixing oddly in himself and his manner, making his words straggly calm, strangely clear. "It won't change what happened. It will only add two more casualties to a war that should have ended years ago."
"I'm not going to kill either of you. I want justice, not murder." Robert said quietly. "Your son will be on his way here about now," he continued slowly after a brief pause, "on his way to meet with you."
David suddenly felt his heart freeze and then sink into the pit of his stomach as he began to grasp the implications of what Robert was saying.
"No," he wanted to scream the word across the space between them, but it came out as little more than a whisper.
Robert merely ignored it as he spoke on.
"The very moment he arrives is the moment you will pay for what you've done! After all, an eye for an eye… a son for a son."
"Robert!" The cry sounded from behind him and hardly sounded human in its wrath. David turned numbly to see Edward struggling furiously against his bonds and the two bandits who held him, his blond hair hanging tangled in his face. He had obviously woken in time to hear Robert's plan. "You traitor! I will kill you for this! If you so much as touch the lad, I will-"
"Silence him," Robert ordered angrily and a bandit winded the protesting knight with a vicious kick to the torso that knocked him flat. "Gag them both and take them into the trees so they won't be seen by any approaching riders. But I want you to make sure that they will have a good view of the clearing. Secure them so they won't escape. His son should be here any moment now."
The two knights were hustled back into the tree line. There was nothing David could do but watch as, only a couple of moments later, a rider dressed in first-year cadet white made his way up the shadowed road and towards the clearing. Dread and horror filled him, as he realized that his son would ride straight into Robert's trap, and Robert would kill him to satisfy some lost and twisted lust for revenge. Gilan wouldn't stand the slightest chance.
The thought of his son lying lifeless in that field…. Tears of pain and frustration filled his eyes even as anger and desperation galvanized him into action. He began to struggle with everything he had against the men that held him, against his bonds. He tried to get the gag free of his mouth so he could call out, shout a warning, anything to stop this.
He couldn't let it happen. He wouldn't let it happen. He noticed that Edward was trying to break free as well. However, all of their efforts were to no avail. David watched with despairing eyes as the cadet rode, oblivious to the danger, straight into the clearing.
David's heart seemed to stop and then sputter to a start again with the smallest needlepoint of hope. The cadet heading towards Robert wasn't his son. It wasn't Gilan. Instead, it was a member of his class: Thomas, his name was.
Seeing no one else in the clearing but Robert, the cadet stopped his horse and saluted.
"I have a message for the Battlemaster, sir… is he around?" his voice carried fairly clearly to David's position.
Robert shook off his momentary surprise and stepped forward. "He's not, but I can deliver a message."
The cadet nodded. "Sir Gavin wanted me to inform the Battlemaster that Cadet Gilan will not be able to meet with him at the appointed time as planned. He was found in negligence when it came to the care of his kit and uniform, and he is also suspected of being involved with an incident of minor sabotage of a senior officer's property. Sir Gavin has him running the twelve-kilometer course with a full pack as a consequence. He won't have enough time after he's finished to meet with the Battlemaster before lights out."
Sir David felt a flood-tide tentatively hopeful relief rush through him. He began to breathe again, not having realized that he had been holding his breath. In that blessed moment, he found himself, quite for the first time in his life, praising the heavens above for his son's irrepressible sense of mischief—for at that moment it truly seemed a blessing. To think he had just spent the hours before cursing those very aspects of his son's character. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
He opened his eyes again, focusing back on the clearing. Robert seemed fit to explode with anger. For a moment David's concern was all for the safety of young Thomas. Robert however, quickly gained control of his emotions.
"I'll be sure to inform him," he said through partially gritted teeth.
Thomas looked a little uncertain of Robert's reaction, but he saluted again and wheeled his horse around to ride back the way he had come.
David cut his gaze to the side to meet that of his fellow knight. Edward's eyes seemed to practically twinkle with gratitude for this turn of fortune and also with something akin to pride. Trust that lad of yours to never led you down when it matters they seemed to say, teasingly.
His attention was diverted by Robert swearing explosively as soon as the young cadet was out of earshot. The traitor knight stalked towards the tree line.
"There is going to have to be a change of plans. Keep them here while I go and fetch the brat myself. I'll compensate you for your time," he assured the bandit leader who nodded his agreement after a pause.
Robert mounted his horse then and rode out of the clearing in the same direction the cadet had taken earlier. The situation was a dire as it had been before, David knew. But, now he had something that he did not have before, and that was time. Even the smallest amount increased his chances of finding some way to stop this. One glance at the knight beside him told him that Edward felt the same.
~x~X~x~
Halt had just left the castle, riding at a canter down the forest road when Abelard gave a warning whinny. Almost simultaneously, Halt caught a motion in his periphery just around the bend in the road. Whispering thanks to his horse, to let him know he had gotten the message, he eased Abelard into the thickets just off the path with the slightest touch of his heel.
He opted to remain unnoticed now, out of caution, and for the same reason he had not sought help from any of the knights at the castle. He already knew that one knight was involved and he had no idea how many others were, if any. And he did not have the time to try and find out. He would risk more than failure if he asked for help from the very people who were in on the scheme. He would risk the same if any news got out of his intentions.
From his position, he saw three first-year cadets running along the path with full packs, followed by a mounted senior officer. All were heading towards the castle. He recognized the three as the ones who had been reprimanded earlier for not taking proper care of their uniforms earlier in the day. They were obviously doing some sort of punishment run, he thought as they passed.
He was about to urge Abelard forwards again when they rounded the bend, but his horse let out another quiet rumbling warning sound. Halt looked back to the road and saw another mounted knight. The man seemed to be trailing the other officer and the three cadets, Halt saw as the rider paused at the bend in the road. The man dismounted and checked around the curve before remounting and heading forwards. Completely suspicious, Halt stared intently at the man's face. His frown deepened as he recognized him as Sir Robert.
Halt hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow him. Obviously, he was already too late to stop whatever ambush the man had set up in the forest; he tried to bury his feelings of dread at the thought. His best bet now would be to follow the traitor knight, he knew.
Silently, he urged Abelard out of the thicket and back towards the castle. When he reached the edge of the woodlands, he dismounted in order to present a less conspicuous target on the open lands. He gave Abelard the stay signal. Wrapping himself in the folds of his Ranger cloak, he made use of its concealing camouflage.
When the group of disgraced cadets reached the castle yard, the senior officer gave the reigns of his mount to Gilan to take care of for him—likely and extra punishment. Then the officer and the other two cadets went into the training yard. Gilan was leading the horse to the stables when Robert made his move, urging his own horse forwards in order to intercept the apprentice. Halt moved forwards then as well, as close as he dared, and strained his ears to listen.
"Cadet Gilan," Halt heard Robert call.
The apprentice in question turned swiftly, standing at attention, the battle horse's reigns still in his left hand.
"Sir?" he asked.
"There's been an accident. Sir David has fallen from his horse during the hunt."
Halt felt his eyes narrow at this, wondering exactly what sort of game Robert was playing. Gilan's face paled considerably.
"Is he alright, sir?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly with worry.
"It was a bad fall," Robert said slowly, solemnly. "Your father is asking for you, he wanted me to take you to him."
Gilan hesitated then, his brows furrowing slightly. Indecision seemed to mark every line of his body. He cut his eyes to the side towards where the senior officer who had been supervising his earlier run could still be seen. Robert followed his gaze and guessed at the reason behind Gilan's hesitation.
"Don't worry I will speak to the Drill Master and instructors upon your return. You will not be disciplined for leaving your post. But you have to hurry; Sir David wants you immediately."
Halt watched Gilan intently, wondering what he would do, waiting to see if he was falling for the story that Robert was telling. For the briefest of moments, Halt thought he saw Gilan's eyes narrow slightly. But perhaps, Halt thought, he'd only imagined it. Gilan offered Robert a tight worried smile.
"Thank you, sir," he said as if that was indeed the reason for his hesitation. He turned to mount the horse he had been just about to lead to the stables.
Robert nodded and the two set off at a canter, Gilan following after. Halt followed as well, retrieving his own horse as soon as he reached the forest path. Very carefully, he began tailing the two riders. He made sure that he would not be seen by them by staying one bend in the road behind them. As they went on, he began to feel certain that they were heading to Oakly Ford: the rendezvous point he had seen marked on Robert's map.
In fact, he knew that as soon as he passed the next bend in the road it would be a straight shot to the clearing. Halt had no idea what Robert had done with Sir David, or what he was planning to do with Gilan, but he quite intended to stop the man before anyone was harmed or, he winced at the thought, before anyone else was harmed. Deciding he could no longer afford to let Robert stay too far ahead of him, and knowing that people generally felt more secure when they were nearly at their destination and were, therefore, less likely to look back for this final stretch, he made the command decision to break cover and follow as closely as he dared.
He did so and could just see the two riders ahead of him, moving through the dappled shadows of the trees that hung overhead like a green tunnel of branches and leaves. Gilan was still riding a few meters behind Robert. Halt felt a slight twinge of disappointment at the sight; obviously, all Gilan's thoughts were consumed only with worry for this father, for he seemed oblivious to the danger he was in. Robert obviously had had a fair idea of what story would trick the boy. Gilan had swallowed the bait readily it seemed… Then again, perhaps not, Halt realized with quiet approval.
As he watched, he saw the boy in question stare intently at the man ahead of him, and then look just intently around at the trees that grew along the path. He glanced once more at Robert's back before slowly shifting his position in the saddle so that he was crouching on it, rather than sitting. From there, he very carefully began to stand upright, balancing precariously on his perch as he tried to shift his balance to match the horse's jolting stride. He did not keep that awkward position for any length of time, however. He leaped up from the saddle to catch hold of a branch hanging lower than the others whilst the horse he had been riding continued onward without him, obediently following after Robert's steed.
Gilan hung perilously by his arms from the branch for a moment before he managed to pull himself upwards. His unexpected action was not a moment too soon for Robert and the rider-less horse had already passed through the door of light that marked the entrance to the clearing. Gilan made his way rather easily across the tree bow to the trunk and then down to the ground. From there, Halt watched as he melded, with fair skill for an apprentice knight, into the tangle of brush just off the path.
Some inexplicable sixth sense, mixed with a fair amount of experience told Halt to get off the road. He eased Abelard into the concealment of the brush several meters behind where Gilan had entered just as Robert, now in the middle of the clearing, chanced a look behind him.
~x~X~x~
Sir David watched with increasing dread as he saw two horsemen approaching. He stole a glance towards Edward who was tied to the tree next to the one he was tied to. A failed escape attempt had rendered them thus. They were now much more secure than they had been before. Sir David cursed the failure, not only because of its ill-favored results, but because they had come so close to getting away before they were apprehended again.
He felt a nightmarish sense of familiarity as once again he was forced to watch, helpless, as his son would ride straight into… He gritted his teeth, burning eyes fixed upon Robert as he came into the clearing before he moved his focus to the other rider, his heart threatening to burst in his chest.
He blinked. There was no other rider. It was just another horse with an empty saddle. It was in that moment that Robert turned around to look behind him. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head with incredulous fury. He swore loudly for the second time that day. Obviously, the saddle had not been empty from the start.
The bandit leader Bramwell, David had learned his name was, stepped out of the tree line once he too saw the empty saddle.
"Couldn't find the brat, eh?" he demanded roughly, his hands on his raged, grubby, tunic. "What'll you do now?" he sneered.
Robert dismounted, facing the bandit just as furiously. "The blasted boy gave me the slip. He can't be too far away. We can get him quickly."
Bramwell looked piqued and muttered something David couldn't quite catch.
Robert rounded on the man. "I don't care how long it takes; I need it done!"
"All this fooling around weren't what we agreed on! I'll need more'n extra pay for 'em."
"Fine!" Robert snapped. "Just help me find him!"
"I want 'em two knights," Bramwell insisted with peevish and single-minded persistence. "That'uns the Battlemaster himself, if I'd heard you right. I could get lots for him from the Baron to get him back."
"Fine by me. You can do whatever you want with them, after," he stressed the word, "after I get the boy!"
Bramwell nodded to ten of his men to come forward. "We'll find the boy." He nodded again and paused for a moment. "But I'm havin' a bit of thought myself."
Robert looked irritated at this intrusion but turned to face the bandit none the less.
"My idea's this…"
If it weren't for the gag, David would have cried aloud. Almost faster than the eye could follow, the bandit drew his heavy bladed dagger and drove it into Robert's chest. Wide-eyed with horror filled surprise, Robert stared aghast at the bandit even as he sank to his knees.
"That I could be get'n more all told, if'n I just take the money you brought for us and then find the boy myself," Bramwell spoke on, staring down unfeelingly at the crumpled form of Robert who lay before him on the ground. "There'd be much to be got from him, I warrant, him bein' the Battlemaster's son an all. That way, I get paid three times. And if'n the Baron's hesitant to pay, I'll kill that other knight to show I'm serious."
"You traitor," Robert gasped from the ground, utter hatred glittering murderously from his eyes.
"Loyalty's never part of my agreements. I do what 't takes to get what I want, you should understand't." Bramwell sneered back.
Robert spat at him, his breath coming in broken gasps before his eyes slipped closed and he lay still.
David watched as Bramwell started shouting orders to his men to fan out to find the boy. He found himself desperately wishing he could free himself. The situation he was hardly any better than it had been before; all their lives were in just as much danger.
As if in answer to his silent wish, he suddenly felt something tugging at his bound wrists. Somebody was freeing him. The ropes pulled free along with the ones that tied his middle and his legs to the tree. He stepped away from the tree, grateful for the unexpected rescue, and also grateful that he had not been tied long enough for his circulation to have been seriously cut off—otherwise he might have fallen.
Searching for his rescuer, he turned to see none other than his son moving stealthily to untie Edward as well. Elation, pride, pent up nerves, and worry brewed an odd feeling in his chest, but he pushed it aside. There would be time enough for that later when all three of them were out of danger. Now he needed to secure their freedom, and get them all away safely. Catching Edward's eye, he made a hand motion towards the backs of the two bandits that had stayed behind to guard them. Edward understood the message and the two of them moved forward, intent upon knocking out their two captors.
David bent to pick up a convenient stone and brought it crashing down upon the head of the guard nearest him so that he fell unconscious to the ground without a sound. Edward attempted to do likewise, but some primal instinct of danger must have assailed the bandit for he turned, saw Edward, and managed to cry out loudly before the knight sent him sprawling next to his companion.
The bandit's yell was heard by his followers who were just on their way to search the woods for Gilan. As one, they turned towards the sound and saw their prisoners escaping. Led by Bramwell, they charged to intercept the knights and cadet.
Both knights were weaponless and the young apprentice was armed with nothing but his wooden training sword. Gilan did already have his own cavalry sword but, when he was drilling with the other cadets, it was policy that he should carry the same weapons they did. Their enemy was gaining fast and outnumbered them about three to one. Things were looking grim. However, David had noticed earlier that none of the bandits had any ranged weapons. Such being the case, he decided that their best course of action would be to run.
Stooping to gather the two swords of the bandit guards, he gave the order to flee. He passed the extra sword to Edward as they ran—all the while keeping one hand on his son's shoulders, shepherding him forwards. Though that was not really necessary; Gilan's face was pale, but he managed to easily keep pace with them, taking two strides for their every one.
David knew these woods fairly well and so knew of a spot that was enclosed by rocks on two sides and thick brush and a deadfall on the third side. The only easily accessible entrance was about four meters of open land. If they could make it to that spot, then they would have a chance to defend against so many, possibly their only chance. As they ran, he shouted his intentions as well as concise directions to his two fellow escapees.
It was relatively safe to say that there were very few times that Gilan had felt as terrified as he was now. His day had gone from a typical school day to a life or death situation in a matter of moments. It was true that he spent much of his life purposely seeking out mischief adventure and even a little danger because he enjoyed the thrill that came from pushing at the boundary of ordinary and mundane. But there was admittedly a fairly big difference between thrill and actual terror. This was no game and the stakes were his life, the life of his father, and Sir Edward.
For a moment, his rising sense of panic threatened to claim his senses and mind—so there was little room for anything else but that fear. It screamed through his body and numbed all his thoughts except for the urge to flee. That was until he heard his father detail a location and battle instructions. He immediately understood what he had to do. Having a clear course of action placed before him gave his panic-filled mind something substantial to grasp at, something enough to pull him completely out of that fear.
"Now!" his father shouted, and Gilan leaped into action.
"What should you do when you are unarmed and an enemy is chasing you?" He remembered his father asking him once during their lunch break on a hunting trip when he was about ten. He had sighed, resigned, at the time, wondering why a break could not just be a break when his father was concerned. There was always and forever some lesson or concept pertaining to being a knight that his father felt he had to teach.
His father had not given him the chance to reply and had instead pushed him forwards as he pointed to the woods.
"Go, run! We'll go through this together. The best way to learn is by experience."
"But, dad can't we—"
"I said to run."
His father had made a shooing gesture. Gilan, shrugging to himself and smiling faintly, had run—this wasn't really anything out of the ordinary after all: yesterday there'd been a talk about tactics at dinner, the day before a lecture on the knight's code, and the day before that and impromptu sparring match to brush up on sword techniques. His father had started after him as he ran, instructing him all the way.
"Keep your speed up for a while and then, if you are able to get some good distance between you and your attackers, you need to change your course constantly, unpredictably, until you either lose him, find cover, or a defendable area! Don't give a straight path to you! You'll be easier to catch and find if you move predictably. Weave!"
Gilan wove now, zigzagging through the trees as he split off slightly from the comforting presence of his father and Sir Edward. The two knights in question were doing the same as he, giving their pursuers no clear idea of whom to chase, no clear paths to their targets, and no clear idea of their ultimate destination.
Though he kept his motion through the trees as unpredictable and sporadic as he could, Gilan kept the clear directions his father had detailed to the forefront of his mind. He was a fit and active boy, but even he was breathing hard by the time the spot his father had spoken of came into sight.
He arrived only about fifteen meters behind his father and Sir Edward, who yelled for him to hurry, beckoning him forwards. Once he reached them, both of their arms shot forward and practically dragged him behind them, behind their line, and into the relative safety of this alcove. The bandits were not far behind.
He saw his father and Sir Edward take up positions to hold the gap of the dell. That way, Gilan saw, the bandits would only be able to come at them two or possibly three at a time. Gilan wished then that he had his real sword so that he could help them. He didn't really like staying back like this. But, as it was, since he was without proper arms, he knew he'd probably be more of a hindrance than a help. His wooden sword was a danger to him and his father and sir Edward because they could become too distracted keeping an eye on it and him. So thinking he stayed behind them as they began to defend the gap.
Edward was a good swordsman, at the very least a match for any of the bandits, and his father was a sword's master. They would have the matter well in hand with or without Gilan's help. For the first time since the chase began, Gilan began to feel his heart start to calm down slightly. But then he quickly shook himself free of that false sensation, going on the alert, training sword held ready in his hand.
"Can you tell me what one of the most important tactical things there is for a battle leader to remember, whether he is leading an assault on a keep or defending it?" His father had asked him one morning at breakfast. He had shaken his head, not knowing the answer his father wanted.
"It's that there is no such thing as an impenetrable keep. Never assume that there isn't a way in, and never let a false sense of security lull you into complacency."
Gilan's eyes swept across their small sanctuary now and came to rest on the deadfall just in time to see several bandits scrambling over the rough unsteady logs that created the rather flimsy barrier to their right.
"Dad!" he called, not liking the way his voice cracked slightly, "they're coming over the deadfall!"
Before the words were finished tumbling out of his mouth, one of the bandits, who had made it over the jumble of fallen logs unseen by Gilan as he came at an angle, was on him. Though Gilan didn't know it, the man was none other than the bandit's leader Bramwell.
Bramwell was a highly skilled swordsman. He swung his sword down in a vicious overhead strike. For a moment, all Gilan could do was stare wide-eyed as the sword descended. His wits scattered momentarily for the second time that day because of the unexpected nature of the attack.
However, his arm seemed to possess the intelligence his mind had forgotten and brought his own hardened wood sword up to block the strike. The impact jarred his arm horribly, but the bandit's sword was successfully stopped in its tracks. The man disengaged, ripping it free from where it had bit into the wood and nearly wrenching it from Gilan's hands. Once his sword was free, the bandit tried again with a sidestroke but, once again, Gilan's sword went up at the right moment—this time to deflect the blade to keep it from sticking in his hilariously inadequate wooden sword. After that first surprise attack, he had managed to collect himself and was now able to get the measure of his opponent, and control of the fight.
The five years he had spent drilling and training had drilled the basic sword maneuvers into his muscle memory so that every one of his movements was almost an instinctive extension of himself. He was reminded then exactly how all the mind-numbingly dull hours he had spent drilling did have an actual worthwhile purpose; it had just saved his life. Though it did not make him hate it any less, he remembered and acknowledged its usefulness.
He knew what he was doing, how to counter and block his enemy's attacks successfully. He was well able to hold his own against his attacker. He knew, however, that his success could not last for very long, he was using a wooden drill sword after all. Also, he could see more of the bandits beginning to make their way across the deadfall. That glance, quick as it was, nearly cost him his head. He only just ducked in time to avoid another of his bandit's sweeping sidestrokes.
"Father!" He yelled again as he fought, "five more have made it across!"
At his cry, David cursed and began to issue orders to Edward.
"When I give the word, stand back to back with me to fight off the ones who have made it inside! Now!" he ordered suddenly.
Edward turned in a sweeping half-circle as David stepped to the left so that they were back to back. As Edward turned he caught Gilan's attacker, a nasty cut to the leg. Bramwell yelled in pain and fell to the ground, dragging himself awkwardly away from the field of combat and Edward's flashing sword.
It was then that Gilan saw that they were in trouble. Without Edward to help hold the breach with his father, the bandits saw the opening and began to swarm their position. Skillful as Sir David was, Gilan knew enough of tactics to know that he would not be able to hold them off for long. Edward had his hands busy too. His sword was up and ready to challenge the first of the four who were making it over the deadfall. Gilan moved back so he stood against the rough stone wall of the alcove just behind his father and Edward. He held his sword ready to try and help either of them defend. His heartbeat seemed to pound in his ears as he realized that, despite their efforts, they were going to be overwhelmed.
Suddenly, he caught sight of motion in his periphery. He turned towards the spot just in time to see a King's Ranger seemingly appear out of nowhere inside their alcove on the leftmost and outermost edge of the deadfall. Somehow the Ranger had crossed the deadfall, where the brush grew thicker, without anyone seeing him. And it wasn't just any Ranger, Gilan saw as he recognized him, it was Halt.
Gilan watched with awe-filled eyes as an arrow seemed to appear on the Ranger's bowstring as he drew, sighted and fired in the mere blink of an eye. The five bandits who were in various stages of making it across the deadfall went down one after the other under a rain of arrows. Gilan had seen many an archer at the castle but he had never seen once as fast an accurate as Halt.
The Ranger discarded his bow then, in favor of the two knives that he carried in that odd double scabbard that hung from his belt. Some of the bandits had made it past David to enter the dell. They were too close to the tiny group of defenders for Halt to risk shooting at them, Gilan knew.
Halt engaged one of the bandits who had made it through. The man swung an overhead strike at the Ranger. Halt simply blocked the stroke with nothing but his two knives. The Bandit's sword was stopped dead by the Ranger's crossed blades. Quicker than the eye could follow, Halt withdrew the smaller knife from the block and plunged it into the bandit who fell with a cry. But Halt was already moving past that man to engage another.
This one stamped his right foot down as he thrust at the Ranger. However, Halt simply used the lager knife, his saxe, like a short sword and deflected the blow to the right as he closed the gap between them. Almost simultaneously, he reached out with his left hand to grab the rough man by the collar of his jerkin and dragged him close, off balance, and completely unable to make use of the reach of his sword. The Ranger then swung the heavy pommel of his saxe into the man's head. His eyes rolled upwards and he fell limply to the ground. Halt was side by side with Sir Edward and Sir David now; the two knights were already engaging the last remaining bandits.
Suddenly, Gilan saw the bandit he had previously dueled with, the one Edward had knocked out of the fight with a leg wound, rise up behind the Ranger. The man's dagger was upraised and ready to plunge into the Ranger's unprotected back. Some inexplicable instinct must have alerted Halt to the danger behind him, for he turned, saxe upraised ready to meet it. But, before he did, Gilan, having seen Halt in danger, had rushed forward with a cry of warning on his lips. He brought his training sword down with great decision upon the bandit Bramwell's head.
The hickory blade of his training sword, already weakened by its time coming up against a real sword, couldn't take any more pressure. It snapped in half as Bramwell fell unconscious to the ground.
Gilan thought he saw Halt nod once at him, something like quiet approval shining in his eyes before he turned back to help his father and Sir Edward subdue the last of the bandits. By that time, however, most of the remaining men were already starting to surrender.
"Halt!" David greeted as soon as he was able, "I'm not sure how you came to be here, but I am glad that you were. I don't think I ever been more glad to see you in my life."
He inclined his head deeply at the bearded Ranger. It was a simple but genuine show of heartfelt gratitude.
"I'm glad I made it in time," Halt said, returning the nod, "although, I should probably be the one thanking you for finding the bandits I've been after for me."
David shook his head with a rueful smile.
"I'm glad I could be of help. It was just the thing to liven up my break," he said, glaring angrily at the unconscious Bramwell.
"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Halt said, the barest ghost of a smile touching his face before he went to help Edward secure the remaining bandits.
David turned towards his son then, filled with a huge sense of relief and gratitude at the fact that he was safe, alive, and unharmed. He saw Gilan standing almost frozen over Bramwell, his broken sword held in a crushing two-handed grip. His eyes were wide and staring at the break, yet not actually seeming to focus on it. For a sinking moment, David feared his son was suffering from battle-shock. Though battle-shock usually afflicted soldiers after their first experience with actual combat, David knew from experience that it could affect anyone at any time, even veterans—and Gilan certainly, though he was fairly experienced for his age, wasn't a veteran.
"Gilan?" David asked tentatively, and then felt relief as his son responded to the sound of his name.
"I think I am going to need a new sword," he said blankly, looking from the ruined weapon to his father's face and smiling wanly.
David smiled too then and put an arm around his son's shoulders. "I see to it that you get one."
Gilan let the broken sword fall from his fingers as he turned fully into his father's arms, feeling the beginnings of tears of relief building up behind his eyes. Then he felt his father's arms encircle him back.
"So, dad, did you have anything else planned for today?" he asked impishly, grinning.
Sir David shook his head at the words, feeling a smile threatening to spread across his own face in turn. "You did well, Gilan," added quietly.
A/N: Thanks again for reading. As usual, feedback is appreciated; also, don't hesitate to let me know if you see mistakes or things that could stand to be improved. There is only going to be one chapter left I think, and I'll have it out as soon as I can. I hope you all have an amazing day!
