Chapter 2

A/N: I am really sorry about the wait. I had a nasty busy week of projects and midterms/quarter tests. In fact, I still do have another four weeks of all this nonsense (huge projects) to go through yet. I tried my best despite that, but was still late. Hope this chapter comes to making up for the wait. Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed or favorited—it means alot.

Katy Fairfax: Thank you for your kind words! It really brightened my day to read. I'm really glad you like it so far. I hope you didn't die waiting so long, I am sorry about that.

Lala the Screaming Fangirl: Thanks for the compliment! it was very encouraging! I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint.

CrazedFangirl13: It took a lot of devious plotting to come up with the premise XD I hope this is soon enough for you. Thanks for the encouragement.

Saraku: Thank you for kind words and compliment, you have no idea how encouraging it is to read. Thanks also for the correction. Though I do try (sometimes) I can't seem help writing cliffhangers. Thanks again *salutes back*

whentheresawill: I'm glad you liked it. Your review made my day too, so I think we're even now XD

TrustTheCloak: I'm glad it came off the way I planned- There's almost nothing worse than trying to write something funny and then not having it take. (I don't want to end up being the Baron Arald of fanfiction.) I haven't gotten the new book yet, but I want to read it so badly! Thanks for the review!

Chapter 2

Of all the things that Halt would have expected Gilan to say, what he had said, he honestly expected the least.

"What?" he found himself asking as he stepped aside to allow his anxious former apprentice in. He felt a sinking feeling in his heart as he did so.

"I think Will could be in trouble," Gilan repeated. "Serious trouble."

As soon as they were both inside, Gilan thrust a paper towards Halt, who took it and brought it up close to the lantern light in order to see what it was. It didn't take long for him to recognize the writing as Will's. At the same time, he realized that this was the letter that he had seen Will writing the day he had left.

"Will and I have been writing each other for a while," Gilan said and Halt nodded. "I've been in the middle of trying to track smugglers in Whitby," Gilan continued.

Halt nodded again. "The ones with the missing cargo."

"You've been reading our letters?" Gilan asked surprised, a faint smile etching its way across his face for the first time that night. "I didn't know you cared so much."

Halt glared at him and Gilan grew serious again as he continued onwards.

"I seemed to be at a dead-end until I read Will's letter and found a connection between something he said and my own experience."

As Gilan said it, Halt scanned the contents of the letter in question.

Dear Gilan,

By now you should have realized that nobody ever wants to know your opinion, least of all me. As for being mentally hindered, at least that would be preferable to being despised by all society—like you. You, my so-called friend, are a blight on mankind and should go live with the Wargals, where you belong. You deserve each other, and your departure from civilized society would lighten the world considerably.

That sounds like a bit of a conundrum. I'm glad I'm not in your boots at the moment. I could never afford to look so foolish. But since it's you we are talking about, I wouldn't be too embarrassed. Idiot has become so much a part of your character that people honestly don't expect that much from you anymore.

But, in all seriousness, if you just missed something then you still have a chance to figure out what it is. I know that Halt would say to just take a step back and look at it again from a different angle. If you are too tangled in a certain aspect, you sometimes cannot see the full picture. I know you probably already know this, but sometimes it helps to be reminded. I wish I could help more but I can't at the moment, I am just about to go after some bandits of my own.

I had gotten word of some suspicious activity on the main road at night and tracked the wagon in question from a known smuggler's site. One of their horses had an odd gait so it was fairly easy to track. I tailed them all the way to the spot where they abandoned their wagon. One of its wheels had shattered. It was a roughly handmade thing that was crafted so poorly that it wasn't even totally solid on the inside of the outer rims. It was a wonder it hadn't broken sooner. You'd think that smugglers would be able to afford the services of a decent wheelwright, but perhaps they were not very good at their job. Anyway, when I caught up to the bandits and arrested them, I found some correspondences on their person—from what looked like two other groups—outlining a meeting spot and time. I should be able to get there before the rest do and stop them. Wish me good fortune so that I don't end up looking as foolish as you. If I come up with any ideas regarding your dilemma on the road, I'll let you know.

Your truest enemy,

-Will

Halt looked up and fixed Gilan with a steady gaze.

"Where do you see the connection?" he asked, though he suspected that he might have an idea. As before, there was something about the wagons that stuck out to him, trying to claim his attention.

"The cartwheels Will mentioned, they're the key to it all."

As Gilan said it, Halt felt his gaze narrow slightly with understanding.

"The smugglers I stopped had rather crudely made wheels too, wider than normal. At the time I just attributed it to poor craftsmanship, like Will. And I kept thinking that way until I read Will's letter and saw the similarities. When he mentioned how the shattered wheel he had found had rims that were not completely solid, I realized how they had given me the slip the first time, how they had hidden the cargo, why I hadn't found it."

"They hid it in the wagon wheels," Halt said, the barest trace of a frown touching the corners of his mouth.

Gilan nodded. "It's the only place that nobody would think to look, including me," he said ruefully, looking annoyed at himself. "It's the only way they could have done it."

"And cargo like spices could be easily secured in a place like that," Halt mused but then frowned deeper. "The problem is that it's insufficient. There's no way they could transport enough to make a worthwhile profit."

"That's exactly what I thought. So I thought back to what the soldier had told me, he said 'plants or spices or something of the like,' he wasn't definite. From there, I got to thinking, what if they weren't spices at all, but rather some type of plants that could perhaps be used a narcotics or hallucinogens? They would fetch a price high enough for such a small amount to be profitable."

"That answers the problem of your smugglers, but what does this have to do with Will being in danger?"

"When I knew what they were transporting, I knew where to look in Whitby for someone who bought from them. They wouldn't have bothered bribing officials if they didn't sell something—not when they had hiding spots like they did. I found an apothecary who had bought from them and persuaded him to give me information. He was able to lead me to some bargemen who knew where the big cargo pick up spot was—by which I mean they were headed there before I stopped them. Funny how all these people seem to know each other.

"But this is how I know Will is in trouble. He is after the same group of smugglers and, if I'm right, heading straight for their meeting spot. But the meeting spot isn't just for a couple of these smugglers. It was supposed to be a huge meeting of nine wagons total and now two barges. Will is on his way to a highly organized smugglers camp of close to forty men and he doesn't even know it."

Before Gilan had even finished speaking Halt had already grasped the implications. It was, of course, possible that Will had avoided the situation entirely or had found a way through it. But neither Halt nor Gilan, who was now practically pacing with impatience, wanted to take the risk. If Gilan was right, then the chances were good that Will was in deep water, more than good actually.

"Saddle Abelard for me while I get supplies," Halt said shortly, placing Will's letter on top of the others.

Gilan gave him a tight-lipped smile then and hurried out the door.

"I trust you know where the meeting spot is," Halt said as he and Gilan cantered away from the cabin, using the light of the full moon as they rode.

Halt had a pretty fair idea where it was from the briefing Will had given him before he left, but he hoped Gilan's idea was a bit more detailed.

"I know where to find them," Gilan replied, his voice low, as he stared resolutely ahead of him.

"You said you got information from an apothecary who had bought from them," Halt pointed out as they rode, "But you never told me exactly what type of narcotic or hallucinogenic they are trying to smuggle."

Gilan looked pained. "It isn't good, Halt."

~x~X~x~

Will was in a foul mood. During the hours he had spent crouching awkwardly and unmoving, he had gotten no less than two cramps. Also, during that time no less than three bandits had wandered dangerously close to his bush in order to answer the call of nature. And, thinking of that, he quite wished by now that he had not drunk so much from his own water-skin earlier. But what was by far the worst was the feeling of dread that he might yet be discovered. That feeling had, by now made, itself a constant companion, worrying away at his insides.

Gradually, the sun began to sink towards the horizon. Still he crouched, waiting for darkness so he could slip away unnoticed into the shadows. One small piece of solace was that the war dogs he had noticed earlier had so far been kept at the furthest point from his hiding spot.

As the light began to abate further, so did the twisting feeling of dread. It allowed him the chance to think. This was obviously a highly organized and expansive group, nothing like he had at all expected or prepared for.

He had watched them take their product out from where they had hidden them: in the wagon wheels of all places. His thoughts had flown back to the shattered wheel he had found several days ago as he finally grasped the implications behind it. From there, they had put whatever it was they were transporting—it looked to be some spice or herb—into small crates which they stacked near the barges, not too far from where he crouched.

A gentle breeze blew through and carried the scent of whatever spice or herb was in the crates very faintly to his nose. At that distance, he could not fully make out what it was; but, for some reason, an involuntary shudder ran down his spine. He suddenly began to feel more uneasy than before. The scent, faint as it was, seemed to bring back some fragmented memory of foreboding.

It was as he was trying to search his mind to place the memory and its accompanying feeling, that the man, who appeared to be the leader of the smugglers and the two barge captains wandered past, very near to his bush and the pile of crates.

"We'll have the cargo loaded aboard before dark, so you can leave under cover of darkness. The moon should be fairly full tonight. It'll give you enough light to steer by so you can be well away come morning."

"This is probably the last time we should use this meeting spot or route," One of the bargemen said. 'We've drawn too much attention from the soldiers and, worse, the Rangers. The one in Whitby came far too close to discovering us; I doubt we'd be able to get past that one again. And the Ranger of Redmont has been little better. If we want to continue getting profit from this endeavor, we either need to completely change routes or lay low for a while. You can rest assured that the soldiers, Rangers, and king would not be pleased to find out our cargo. They take a special disdain to items that benefit the slave trade."

"I know," the smuggler replied. "If we want to keep on, we need to lay low for a while. I'd hate to lose all the profit we get from the warmweed... And that's not even to mention what would happen if we were caught."

The man said more but Will did not hear it. His whole mind seemed to freeze at the mention of that single word: warmweed. The mention of its name was the mention of the memories of one of the darkest periods of his life. No wonder the faint scent he had caught earlier had whispered of foreboding—like the chilling wind that runs before a storm.

He took a silent breath in an attempt to reclaim his thoughts. Warmweed, they were smuggling warmweed. And they were leaving shortly after dark. This information put a whole new dark twist on things. Will would never be able to leave and get help until nightfall himself. By the time he would make it to the soldiers' garrison and back again the smugglers and bargemen would be gone.

Warmweed could be used medicinally, it was true. But the smugglers' conversation left little doubt that this was not what they intended to do with it.

Not only would the smugglers escape justice, but that huge supply of warmweed would be shipped out to the markets of slavers. From there it would be used to fetter the minds of once free-thinking people until they were nothing more but empty husks of themselves, empty of all thought, of all hope, of that spark of life that made someone human. The only thing they would have any conscious thought or desire for, would be the very drug that made them that way. They would be turned into nothing but mindless animals, lost in addiction—animals who lived only to work in the blank numbness that existed somewhere in the space between life and death until they faded away.

He knew it. He knew it because he had lived it. He remembered what it felt like. He remembered, and in that moment he lost the feeble control he had over his thoughts as his mind was plunged back into reliving the terror. For a moment, only this fearsome memory claimed every waking part of himself, until its grip was shattered by a wave of pulsing anger.

That anger filled his thoughts and brought him back to himself with a wave of clarity. How dare those men think that any amount of payment could be worth the life of so many people? How dare they bandy words about carefulness and profit when their goods would take the lives of so many—people with thoughts and dreams of their own? How could they even be considered human themselves after that?

He was furious with them, furious at the horrid plant they so prized, and furious at himself because he could do nothing to stop them. The drug would leave with the bargemen long before he could come back with help, to doom the lives of many… unless... He felt his eyes widen with a sudden purpose—unless they had no product left to transport.

He felt the familiar feeling he got when an idea hung not quite fully formed in his mind, just slightly out of reach. Maybe he could destroy the warmweed and still get away unseen. That way, even if he could not bring back help in time to capture the smugglers, no innocent people would be destroyed because of it.

Halt had always counseled patience, to wait and watch for as long as possible before acting. But, the way he saw it, he didn't have the time for patience. He had only two options. Either the smugglers would get away, but without their product, or they would still get away, along with their goods. Though he had only considered all the implications for the briefest of moments, already he had committed himself to a path. He was going to do something really stupid.

He slowly caught hold of his half-formed idea as he scanned the crates in question. By then, the sun was already beginning to skim the horizon. He watched silently as the lead smuggler and the two bargemen headed slowly to where the other men were gathered, presumably to get them organized in order to load the cargo.

If he was going to act, it had to be now. The shadows of early evening had begun to stretch across his position. It would provide him with sufficient cover to the relatively short distance to the crates. Moving with the shadows, he managed to secret himself behind the stack of small crates. At that distance, the scent of the pungent dried plant material was easily recognizable and made him feel slightly sick. Looking around, he set his gaze upon something near the crates that he had noticed earlier, several bottles of fine wine. Stealthily, he grabbed a few of theses and began soaking the near-perfect tinder of the dried wood of the crates and loose dry plant material. Hurriedly, he then took out his flint and drew his throwing knife in order to create some sparks.

Once he got a small spark grounded in the tinder, he blew gently on it to breathe it to life. It didn't take long for the tinder's flame to come into contact with the alcohol-soaked weed and wooden boxes. The whole pile flared up with a soft whooshing sound. The flames licked hungrily. Will knew then that there was no risk of it going out. After assuring himself of that, he began to back away. He moved carefully back to the cover of the brush and rushes that grew parallel to the river bank.

He was mere meters away from the cover of the brush when everything went wrong. One of the smuggler's war dogs must have caught the out of place scent of pungent smoke brought on by the burning herbs. Snarling, he caught the attention of his two fellow dogs and his handler.

"Fire!" the cry was torn from several throats and passed through the smugglers as they raced forwards to save their precious cargo.

In the chaos of it all, Will might have managed to get away unnoticed, had the three war dogs not been set free of their leashes. The vicious animals immediately set off after Will's foreign scent, passing the running men with ease in order to bring him down.

Will heard the sound of their running paws and his blood ran cold. In a smooth continuous motion, he unslung his bow, tuned to face behind him, nocked an arrow, and fired at the closest canine. Within seconds, another of his arrows was speeding away towards the second. He had just nocked a third arrow when the last remaining war dog was on him.

It leaped into the air, jaws wide and slavering. It bowled into Will and knocked him to the ground. The beast's mouth flashed open in a blood-chilling snarl as he lowered his head blindingly fast towards Will's throat.

Will just managed to bring his bow across his body and the beast's jaws snapped shut on the polished wood. It took almost all his strength to hold back the snapping mouth, sharp teeth, and writhing body. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, the massive animal, using all its enraged strength and better purchase and position, began to push Will's arms and the flimsy barrier of his bow further and further back towards his body, towards his vulnerable neck.

Will grit his teeth. Sweat beaded his brow and his eyes went wide with desperation that was soon replaced with desperate inspiration as he decided to try something. If he didn't do something the dog would eventually either overpower him or break his bow. Either way, the result would be the same. The dog drew back suddenly, before lunging forwards again in a renewed attack. Will felt the pressure lessen as the animal reared back. He let go of his hold on the bow with one hand and shot that arm down towards his left side, his hand closing around the hilt of his knife. Quickly, he brought his arm back upwards with the speed of a striking snake. He did this all in the milliseconds it took for the dog to lunge forwards again.

The animal howled in pain as its furious lunge took it directly into the path of Will's upraised saxe. The dog fell limply to the side with a soft whimper. Will withdrew his knife from the beast, ready to rise to his feet and run again, before he froze. During his scuffle with the war dogs, several of the smugglers had taken the opportunity to catch up to his position and surround him. He lay still, faced with the sight of no less than eight weapons pointed at his prone form. Slowly, he let his saxe drop to the ground.

~x~X~x~

Gilan and Halt crouched at the edge of the smuggler's clearing, silently surveying the scene before them. The majority of the bandits, about thirty-five of them, were in the middle of the clearing arrayed around campfires. The last five were currently onboard one of the beached barges. Those five were surrounding another figure that was tied to that craft's somewhat flimsy mast. The two Rangers made eye contact, exchanging a silent look, before melting back into the tree line. They moved back, intent upon meeting with the garrison captain and his troop waiting for them about twenty meters back into the trees. They had some planning to do. Not only was the capture of the bandits hinging upon their next move, so was Will's life.

~x~X~x~

Will looked up into the eyes of the furious smuggler who stood before him. His arms ached horribly from where the ropes that bound him to the barge's mast dug into his wrists. His hands were tingling slightly because of the cut off blood flow.

"How much is known about us?" the smuggler demanded roughly.

It was the third time that he had asked the same question. Once again, Will chose to hold his tongue. He met the man's cold eyes, glare for glare.

"Do any of the other Rangers know of our location? Do any of the king's soldiers or knights know?" he yelled angrily, spittle flying into Will's face.

Will didn't react at all. He didn't even blink. Growling with rage, the smuggler's leader swung a vicious closed-fisted blow towards his captive's face. Will left out a soft grunt of pain as it connected. Still, he said nothing, ignoring the blood that dribbled down his chin

"Stop wasting your time," the barge captain said to the leader of the smugglers. "He's not going to tell you anything."

"But…" the smuggler leader began to protest furiously as he whirled to face the barge captain.

But the bargeman cut him off. "If the other Rangers and the knights and soldiers knew about us, do you think that this one would have risked himself like he did? No, he wouldn't have," he answered his own question. "I think it's safe to assume that he's alone and that he didn't know much about us before he came, otherwise he would have brought reinforcements. If he had, we would have long since been in trouble. Our best course of action now would be to just finish him off and get out of here with the small amount of warmweed we managed to salvage."

The smuggler's leader took a step back, the blind rage clearing some form his eyes as he saw the truth and good sense in the barge captain's words. Then his eyes grew suddenly cold and suddenly cruel.

"You're right," he said finally. "But he should do more than just die for all the profit and trouble he's cost us."

"You can't risk making a mess of him," the bargeman protested. "We don't have time and that will just increase the risk, speed, and determination of pursuit, even more so than if we just killed him cleanly."

But the smuggler's leader brushed that aside. "I wasn't thinking of making a mess of him, or even killing him outright for that matter…" he paused. "I was thinking of using the warmweed on him," he finished in a low voice.

Will felt himself start in shock and horror at the sound of the suggestion. He felt an involuntary shudder run down his spine even as a hand seemed to clutch at his heart. He tried to quickly cover his reaction, but was seconds too late. Both the bargeman and smuggler saw his unwitting response to the cruel proposal. The smuggler leader's smile grew in both size and malevolence as he registered it.

"You know what it does, don't you, Ranger?" he sneered at Will before turning to the barge captain. "If we give him an overdose of the drug and leave him here, it will distract any pursuers, be it the Rangers or the soldiers, when they find him. They'd waste precious time trying to save him while we get further and further out of their reaches. And the best part is that he will simply die from the withdraw before they could save him. There is no one with a supply of the drug anywhere near here except for us, and we'll be long gone by then. He will die in agony whilst giving us the precious time we need to get away."

This time it was the barge captain's turn to see the good sense in the proposed plan. Simultaneously, the two leaders turned towards the three men standing behind them.

"Go get me one of the crates that wasn't destroyed by the fire." The leader of the smugglers pointed at one of them.

The man left to do his bidding, quickly returning with one of the crates. The smuggler's leader took it from him and strode towards Will. Will watched horrified as the man lifted the lid and retracted a bundle of the dried herbs. He held it between thumb and forefinger as he advanced on Will.

Will stared wide-eyed at the man in front of him, his whole body frozen with a sense of nightmare, paralyzed with a feeling of disbelief. This couldn't be happening... But it was. He was going to lose everything he ever was, everything he ever thought, everything that made him, him, he realized with blinding clarity. It would be just like before, only this time there would be no hope of recovery, no one who could pull him back from the brink before it would be too late.

He felt his body begin to tremble, his heartbeat frantically in his chest, and his throat burn with the overwhelming tide of emotion. No! He couldn't ever go through that again. He just couldn't. He couldn't relive that nightmare, he wouldn't.

"No!" he cried aloud, his voice rough.

He struggled with everything he had against his bonds. Where he had before been carefully and painstakingly trying to stretch the ropes and ease the knots that bound his wrists, now he pulled wildly on the restraints. He struggled, heedless of all patience and carefulness. He felt blood begin to drip down his hands from where the rough hemp cords dug into the flesh of his wrists.

Still, the smuggler came forwards. Will turned his face away; pushing his head as far back as it would go. But it was not far enough. The man gripped him by his hair, forcing his head back.

"Time for you to say goodbye, Ranger," the man said quietly, smugly, as he brought the herbs close to Will's face- so close that the overpowering scent filled his nose and senses. Will knew then that it was over for him.

Suddenly, a green and grey cloaked figure seemed to materialize to the left and slightly behind where Will was bound. The figure moved forwards with alarming speed, bringing the hilt of the sword he carried crashing down upon the smuggler's head. He did this before the smuggler's leader, momentarily frozen with shock and surprise, could think to try and avoid the blow.

"Goodbye, I suppose," the cloaked figure addressed the fallen bandit, before moving to stand protectively in front of Will.

"Gilan," Will gasped in a rush of blessed relief and gratitude. Instinctively he knew what had happened, but logically he did not know how that it had. Obviously Gilan had found out about his plight and had used his skill as the Ranger corps undisputed master of unseen movement to get aboard the barge without notice. But he had no idea how that had all come about. Not that he really cared in that moment. It only mattered that he was there. Will found himself beginning to breathe normally again. He practically sagged against the mast in relief. But it wasn't over yet.

He watched as Gilan pointed his sword at the four remaining men onboard the barge.

"King's Ranger," he said calmly "I suggest you drop your weapons and surrender."

"All forty of us, surrender to one man?" The barge captain asked.

"Whatever gave you the impression that I'm part of a one-man attack force?" Gilan asked.

The barge captain had the sense to look a little worried at that. It turned out to be good policy for, no sooner had Gilan finished speaking, then the sounds of battle became clearly heard in the clearing.

"No!" the bargeman cried in furious outrage. He drew his sword, swinging a vicious overhand blow at Gilan. He reckoned that he might have the advantage of a surprise attack since a sword wasn't a Ranger's weapon. The tall Ranger simply deflected the blow with ease. And, without any further preamble, he launched into the attack with the control and the fluidity of a master swordsman.

The barge captain found himself hard-pressed to try and parry or block all the Ranger's strikes. He found himself desperately seeking for a break or a slip in Gilan's guard but there was none. Gilan's sword thrusts and cuts were all economical, well-timed, and fast. His sword never strayed far from his body or his guard position and left no opening.

In the end, it was the Ranger who found an opening. One of Gilan's strikes made it through the bargeman's guard. His sword darted forwards blindingly fast and bit flesh. The bargeman slumped to the deck with a howl of pain, clutching his badly injured left leg, well and truly out of the fight.

Gilan turned to face the other three bandits who had been using the distraction of the fight to try and flank him. He engaged the closest man to him, both his and the bandit's swords touching together as they tested each other's skill. Though Gilan kept his main focus on that man, he kept tabs on the other two in his periphery. He saw one of them edging towards his side. Gilan pushed back the bandit he was currently trading blows with and turned. He disabled the one to the side by kicking hard at the inside of his knee in a well-positioned movement whilst he blocked that one's sword swipe. The bandit howled with agony as he found his leg no longer able to support his weight.

He turned back to the first man just in time to deflect a thrust. The third bandit had been stealthy making his way behind the tall Ranger. Gilan, aware of this, was just about to leap to the side to switch positions when Will shouted two words.

"Gilan, drop!"

Gilan did so without hesitation. He dropped to the deck just as the man behind him drew back to thrust forward. His sword sliced into the space above Gilan's head and straight into the chest of the first bandit.

While Gilan was down low he kicked the third man's legs out from under him and rose to his feet, catlike. The bandit did the same, his arm already up for another attack when Gilan grabbed his sword arm with his free hand by closing the distance between them. Gilan brought the pommel of his sword crashing into a point just under the man's jaw. He slumped unconscious to the deck. Gilan went to find the second man again but he had already abandoned ship in terror, limping away as fast as he could.

The taller Ranger moved then to get behind Will and slash away at his bindings. Will stumbled free of the mast.

"Will, are you alri-" Gilan started to say but lost his breath in an explosive whoosh of air as the smaller Ranger ran headlong into him.

"Thank you," Will whispered, feeling tears of relief and gratitude prickle at his eyes.

For a moment Gilan was at a loss as he still held his sword in one hand. Then he embraced Will back with his free arm. They pulled apart quickly however, turning to face the sounds of combat in the clearing a little ways ahead of them. This wasn't over yet.

"Come on," Gilan said. "Halt and the soldiers from the garrison could probably use a hand. It's too dark to try shooting from here."

Will nodded once; when the light was like this they stood too high a risk of accidentally harming their own men. He was about to follow Gilan when he hesitated.

"You go. I'll catch up. I'm just going to get my weapons back."

Gilan nodded his understanding and leaped easily off the raft to shore and headed towards the sound of battle. Will went to retrieve his weapons from where he had seen the barge captain stash them. When he had them, he was about to follow after Gilan when he hesitated for a second time. The wheels of his mind, which had before been nearly frozen with horror, and shock, began turning again. His gaze focused on the barges themselves, which were little more than glorified rafts in design. He drew his saxe.

When he finally made his way off the raft, he headed over to where Halt and Gilan were directing the garrison troops. A smuggler blocked his path and charged at him with weapon upraised. Will brought his two knives up and crossed them, blocking the bandit's stroke by stopping his sword dead in the wedge that the crossed blades created. As soon as he had stopped the blade, he removed the smaller knife from the block and drove it forwards into the bandit before the man could bring his sword up to block. The man fell to the ground without a sound, only to be replaced by another smuggler. Will moved to engage that one as well. Soon that man fell to join his comrade.

By the time he finally made it to Halt, the majority of the enemy was already starting to surrender. The garrison soldiers moved to surround the smugglers who had dropped their weapons. While this was happening, however, a small rebellious group of about ten of the bandits used that as a distraction to break away and head for the barges in an attempt to escape.

Halt's sharp eyes caught the motion. Will saw him draw breath to alert the garrison commander. He brought his bow up into firing position; an arrow seemed to appear on the string. He aimed towards the escaping men but Will stopped him.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "They won't get far."

As he said the words, the bandits reached one of the rafts and shoved off, leaping abroad as they did so. The barge only made it a slight way down the river before the men aboard her raised their voices in cries of alarm. As they watched, the raft slowly began to sink into the water of the river. The bargemen had no choice then but to flounder back ashore, straight into the unloving arms of the garrison soldiers.

"I take it you had something to do with that?" Halt asked with a raised eyebrow, though he nodded silent approval of Will's ingenuity.

Will tipped his head. "I severed most of the ropes holding the logs of their barges in place."

He shifted slightly from foot to foot before he embraced his long time mentor.

"Are you alright?" Halt asked, a gentle note of concern touching his softly accented words.

"I will be, thanks to you and Gilan," Will said honestly, moving back a pace. In all truthfulness, he was still mildly surprised that he was still alive and in complete control of himself. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

Halt gestured towards where Gilan was helping the garrison commander. "You actually have your letters and Gilan to thank for that," he began.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated! Only one more chapter left until I finish this little short. I hope it's been a pleasant diversion so far. Let me know if you think there's anything I can improve upon. Thanks again! I hope you all have an amazing rest of the week!