Sorry for the way-too-long update, but I had some writing block and my co-writer can't finish the story. Instead I am taking it over. Hopefully I will update a little (or a lot) more often in the future.
I want to especially thank all the people who sent wonderful reviews. Thanks to you all!
Inside Halt's cabin, the only colors were black and white. A black mood encased and consumed the whole cabin, while under the sheet it was a whole different white world. Will's face was so stark white, while meanwhile beneath his eyelids it was all black again. Halt definitely noticed the two spots of white, but did not even realize that beyond the cabin, the castle was entirely black instead. One of the kingdoms best young heroes had been killed, and his last thanks and farewell were only a few days away. Preparations were long over, but not because of hastiness. So many people had turned out to help and remember, it took no more than two days. Indeed, the only person who had not turned out was Halt himself. He knew perfectly well that the preparations would be handled without him, and in the meantime he had a different job. After the battle had been won in a surprising finish, he had doubly insisted that Will's body be kept with him. The reason he presented was that it was a trophy for the Temujai, and need to be protected so he could be given a proper burial. Everyone knew, though, that all he really wanted was to be with him. Nobody protested, and he was left alone.
He rarely left the cabin, and when he did it was only to replenish the water, buy a small amount of food supplies from the village, or feed the horses. Tug had been acting strangely lately, but it did not worry Halt. What horse wouldn't after it had seen its master dead? After all, he had more important things to worry about.
Halt had not been to the village in a few days, and was running dangerously low on food. He was in a rather sullen mood (when wasn't he these days?) and generally did not want to enter a social place such as the market. He grumpily stepped out onto the doorstep, and glanced back at Will's form through the doorway into the next room. Will had been such a great young man, and death had unfairly chosen to take the wrong person. He sighed a deep, pained, gutted sigh, and stumped out the door.
Waking up was painful. It was also a very long process. The drugs were still wearing off, and intentionally or unintentionally, he had nearly bled himself to death. It must have been very realistic.
He was just barely conscious enough for the sound of the door closing to make its way into his head, but it took a lot longer than that for it to register what that meant. Someone had just left. At that point, he wasn't quite sure who had left, and where they had left from, but if he had heard the person leave, then he must be in that place too. A sudden curiosity as to where he actually was overcame his weak mind, and with it came feeling in his arms and legs. His senses sharpened and he could smell wood, coffee, and most of anything, fresh sheets. He wondered why he could smell sheets so much, and opened his eyes. His question was answered when all he could see was the sheet lying on his face. The question had only just entered his head when everything came flooding back to him. The Temujai, the note, and his decision. Then lots of pain, and blackness.
He slowly raised himself up onto his heavy arms and pushed the sheet off his face. He was in his own bedroom in his and Halt's cabin. The white sheet lying bunched up around his waist was the kind used to cover dead bodies before burial. The thought briefly crossed his mind that things would not have gone as well if he had been buried before waking up. The drugs he had used to mimic death had lasted longer than he thought they would. That would also explain the painfully empty stomach and dry mouth he had.
He carefully lifted his legs over the side of the bed and tried putting a little weight on them. He was a little wobbly, but not too bad. It would be enough to finish what he had started. There were a lot of things he had to do, and it had to be just as convincing as his supposed death. After all, dead people can't just get up and walk away. No, he had to make it seem like the very people he was fighting against had taken him. That was absolutely essential to Will's plan.