Me: I'm so sad to admit this but Ranger's Apprentice belongs to the awesomest John Flanagan. Not that I'm sad it belongs to him, but I wished I'd share!
*John Flanagan glares at me* Me: Fine, no...
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The rhythmetic sound of arrows slamming into the dummy echoed through the combat practice yard. The archer trainees who were practicing stared in awe at the prince as he repeatedly fired arrow after arrow. The majority of them hit the target. The rest of them fell no more than several meters away from it.
The sound of scuffling sounded at the door, then out came Ferris. He looked around, spotted Halt, and marched over importantly. He grabbed Halt's left arm, causing the shot to skewer off to the left. Halt looked at his twin, a look of annoyment in his eyes.
"You're off doing archery again," Ferris accused. Halt made no reply but tucked the bow away. Ferris started to walk, dragging Halt along. Halt angrily snatched away his arm. Ferris turned on him. "Father told me to come get you," he said contemptuously. "He needs to show you... something," he said meaningfully. Then he flinched as his brother stepped up to him. "I know what," Halt spat, a dangerous look in his eyes. "You took my quiver didn't you? Showed him my arrow?" Ferris tried a look of innocence, but his eyes betrayed. They often did. They slid away and sought something else to look at.
Halt glared at him one last time, then walked away.
His father was waiting for him, silhouetted against the red coming from the sunset that slid in through the sindow. He said nothing as he saw Halt come in and close the door behind him. He turned slowly from the window.
"Ferris came and showd me... something interesting." he said at length. Halt met his gazed evenly.
Farlon took out a long, black arrow from under his cloak. "This," he said. "is the intruder's arrow. And this," he picked up an arrow from the quiver on the table. "Is you arrow."
They were identical.
Halt was ready. When the fist struck, he didn't flinch. He didn't cry out. His head was whipped to his right. His left cheek was already swelling.
Ferris, who was standing before the door, smiled cruelly as he heard the strike. He was a little skeptical when he didn't hear Halt cry out, but he reasoned he must had missed it. He felt smug.
Farlon's voice was neutral when he spoke. Emoitonless. "Take off you shirt," he said. When HAlt didn't move, he gripped Halt's hair - which was messy and uncropped - and dragged him forward until he was eye level with him. "I said," he repeated. "Take you shirt off."
When Halt, threw the garment off, he said again, "turn around."
Halt was again ready, but the pain outreached him. The bow, his own bow, struck his back. Hard. He sucked in a gasp. Again the bow rose. And again. And again.
On the tenth it stopped. Halt was barely standing, supporting himself by holding onto a chair. He could feel the heat - and the pain - rolling off his back.
His father's voice cut through the fog.
"Get out of my sight."
Halt, with shaking fingers, slid the shirt back on. As he managed out the door, he saw Ferris's door slam shut. Through the haziness, he felt a burning sense of hate. And sorrow at how his brother turned out. He dragged himself painfully, clinging to the wall, to his room. He was too tired to shut the door. He slumped onto his bed and instantly fell into the welcoming folds of unconsciousness that gave him a brief refuge from the pain.
It was an hour later when Caitlyn came. She was coming back from needlepoint class and she was ready to complain to Halt. However she found his door open. She frowned. Halt wasn't stupid enough to keep his door open. She peeked inside.
And saw Halt slumped on the bed. A split second, she thought he was napping. Then she saw his unnatural pose, draped vertically across the bed and his legs limp on the floor. And a small but rapidly spreading dot of red on the back of his shirt.
"Oh god!" she cried out. She dropped her kit and rushed in. She paused uncertaintly over him, then turned him over. He eyes were shut tight.
Rhese, she thought. Then she hurried out the door, this time keeping the door shut.
She found Rhese on the training yard, practicing with a sword. He was training to become Halt's personal guard. With a personal relationship, he would be a suitable candidate. But the thought didn't reach as far.
"Rhese!" she cried. He turned and saw her alarm expression. His welcome mood turned to worry. "What's wrong," he asked, dropping the sword and stepping forward to meet her. "It's Halt," she said. Her eyes darted around and landed on the trainer battlemaster. "Could you please excuse him?" And without bothering to hear his reply - she knew he'd say "Why yes, my lady" - she dragged Rhese away.
When Rhese saw Halt he went through two seconds of shock, and then determindness. "Get a bandage," he told Caitlyn. Normally he wouldn't dare order a princess, but he knew her long enough, and this was a dire situation. Caitlyn nodded and hurried off.
They treated him quickly. Rhese bandaged him and Caitlyn managed to give him some water. But as they worked, they were so concentrated on saving Halt that they failed to notice at how they worked so smoothly together. And so enthusiastically.
I know I made you guys hate Farlon, but I had much fun writing the last part. Ooh, it was so... fangirlish. I have no hold over RA. Review if you enjoyed :)