Halt and Gilan stood side by side on the verandah of the inn. The two Rangers were still as they spoke in hushed tones to one another. "So how much of Collin's story do you believe?" Gilan asked Halt. The grizzled Ranger shrugged.
"Not much of it. I certainly don't think there are faceless ghosts running threw the woods." Gilan nodded, then he let out an airy sigh as he summoned up the courage to ask a question that had been prickling him throughout the day.
"Halt, you're an experienced Ranger, how did this happen? People don't come to fear something like these villagers do, surely there was some forewarning for this problem?"
Instantly, Gilan felt the stone set gaze of Halt burning into him. The younger Ranger met the hard gaze of his former mentor as he waited expectantly for an answer.
"Your right, there was a warning, but it was in no way significant."
Halt watched the confusion settle across Gilan's young face before he continued. "Superstitious villagers hardly ever lead to raids on garrisons." Gilan shrugged, he had to admit, Halt's reasoning made enough sense to him. The younger Ranger decided to drop the resolved subject.
"What are you planning to do now?" He asked, his gaze swiveling back to the deserted scenery of Faladore.
Halt shot Gilan a look that held a hint of humor in his grim eyes.
"I plan to catch a ghost."
Clouds scuttled in front of the moon, blotting out the scarce light provided by it. Gilan gave vent to a gusty sigh. Halt had set a watch that night, and now Gilan found himself sitting among the tumbled masonry that surrounded Faladore, wrapped in his mottled grey green Rangers cloak. His keen eyes searching the scenery for any sight of movement. There wasn't much to see, or to hear for that matter. The trees swayed gently in the light breeze, an owl hooted in the distance. The unchanging view of the dull listless setting of Faladore hadn't changed once that seemingly endless hour Gilan sat waiting among the rocks.
Then he heard the soft snap of a twig from somewhere in the forest. The Ranger's gaze swiveled slowly towards the almost inaudible sound. In the shadows of the tall trees something moved. Gilan watched with interest, engrossed in the new sign of activity, instinctively, Gilan's grip tightened around the long bow laying across his lap. Years of practice and training froze Gilan's muscles to the spot, and the young Ranger waited patiently. He expected something, but what occurred was far from what he had contemplated.
From the thick shadows of the forest a lithe figure moved into the moon light, edging forth cautiously from the edge of the trees. A dark ashen colored cloak fell around the shape. The cowl of the cloak was tossed back onto the strangers shoulders. To Gilan's surprise he found himself staring into the fierce gaze of a girl. She had a pale face, framed elegantly by soft brown hair that reached past her shoulders. The girl was only in the light for a moment before she slipped back into the shelter of the trees.
"A girl?" Cedric asked for the third time. Gilan nodded. "Yes, a girl." The young Ranger paced back and fourth across the room, his thoughts racing. Cedric was slumped in a oak chair at a small table in the tavern inn. Halt sat across from Cedric and the senior Ranger watched Gilan pace nervously.
Gilan had finished his watch without another sighting of the mysterious girl, and now that morning had dawned he anxiously struggled to explain what he'd seen to his comrades.
"What did you say she looked like again?" Halt questioned. Gilan stopped his pacing and looked at Halt. "She was pale. Extremely pale. She had dark brown hair, it was cut short though, almost like she wanted to look like a boy."
"Then what makes you think she's a girl?" Cedric probed. Gilan's gaze met Cedric's. "It definitely wasn't a boy, I've never seen a boy that pretty before, or that pale…"
"Did this, 'girl' have any weapons?" Halt queried quietly. Gilan shrugged. "I couldn't tell, but she matched the description that Collin gave us."
"So she was faceless." Halt said confidently.
"And twice the size of Halt," Cedric added, only to receive a dangerous glare from the grizzled Ranger.
"No, no, no, she had a face, and she wasn't tall, she had a light build, she didn't look the slightest bit strong. She moved almost silently though, I only heard her once before I saw her. Then she was gone… And her cloak, it was darker than ashes."
Cedric thought for a moment before leaning forward in his chair and linking his gaze with Gilan's. "So what you mean to say is last night you saw a scrawny figure,"
"Girl." Corrected Gilan.
"Scrawny girl, who moved quietly and wore a dark cloak. Is that all?"
Gilan thought for a moment. "She was pale too."
Cedric nodded. "That doesn't give us too much to go on, Gilan." Halt said placidly. Cedric was shaking head at Halt's statement.
"Or maybe it does. I mean, how many strikingly pale scrawny girls with short hair could there be in the Faladore woods?"
All in all there was only one, and as the sun had risen so had she. Now she stalked threw the thick brush of the Faladore forest. Behind her she heard a muffled whisper.
"Strider…"
The girl turned at the sound of her name, meeting the piercing green gaze of her young follower. "Glade…" She said in the same questioning tone. The tall boy behind Strider frowned before continuing.
"Why are we going back to the garrison, I thought we were finished with it."
Strider nodded, "We are, but that doesn't mean we don't drop in every now and then. We want to keep the garrison cleared for when we need it. It might be a good thing to know when it's overrun with imposters." Glade nodded, and Strider continued slinking threw the forest as quietly as possible.
Glade was dressed similar to Strider, with a dark cloak that blended exceptionally well with shadows, and a thin mask of baggy cloth at his neck that matched his cloak almost perfectly. When needed, the cloth could be pulled up and over the wearer's face, muffling there breathing, and helping to create a unnerving appearance. In most cases it served it's purpose well. Though for the moment the masks rested around the necks of the two as they made there way threw the thick brush. They had buisness to attend to.
Rowan pulled the leather girth strap if the light weight saddle taught, in response to the action the bay mare known as Ginger tossed her head enthusiastically. Rowan patted the horses neck gently as he led the mare from the stables. A small group of the Meric Knights were on their way to the garrison, and along with that group Rowan would tag along. They would guard the garrison threw out the night and the rest of the Knights would relieve them sometime after dawn the next morning.
As far as adventures went, Rowan wasn't looking forward to spending a night in the Faladore woods. He too had listened to the frightening tale told by Collin, and now as he stared at the forest he half expected to see a demented creature staring back at him. He shivered. Rowan had never liked the idea of ghosts, and he'd been dreading the moment when they would have to venture into the daunting forest before them. It seemed now that fate was determined to drag him into the vast collection of trees.
"Well come along now Rowan." Roland urged the boy as the young outgoing Knight mounted his own horse and began to ride closer to the looming tree line. Reluctantly, Rowan climbed astride his own horse and nudged the bay gently, sending the horse into a light trot after Roland. Although Rowan had only met the Knights the previous day Roland and he had struck up and instant friendship. The talkative young Knight chattered endlessly about what it was like in Meric fief and how he'd always dreamed he's be a knight, and Rowan had become highly grateful for the open kindness. The rest of the knights weren't the least bit as friendly as Roland. They had quickly come to a decisive decision about Rowan, rejecting the newly named apprentice as nothing more than a burden to them. Rowan had been stung by there rejection, making even more appreciative of Roland.
"So, what d'you think?" Roland said cheerfully as he gazed at the maze like mass of trees before them. Rowan tried to peer past the endless chestnut colored tree trunks and leafy green pine needles. He soon found his efforts to be in vain and he shrugged in reply to Roland.
"Well your enthusiastic." Roland commented in a joking manner. Rowan was about to reply when Cedric joined the two of them at the forest edge. The Battlemaster was accompanied by two more knights, and the ever present Rangers.
"Well, let's be off then." The Battlemaster announced to no one in particular before he urged his Battlehorse forward in a hasty trot.
The Faladore forest was no more that a labyrinth of tall trees that stretched on farther than the eye could see. The thick branches were secreted thickly with soft green pine needles. Sunlight shined down threw the trees, casting warm pools of saffron light on the sandy forest floor. Cedric led the group along at a slow pace, taking in as many of the varying details as he could. A gnarled tree marked a sudden turn in the path. The dirt trail continued straight, while also branching off the right abruptly. Cedric urged his horse around the bend gently, as it led to the desolate garrison.
In all, there were five capable knights, including Cedric, two Rangers, each with there long bows unsung and laying across there lap, already strung. And then Rowan of course. He was quick to realize that he was the most incapable fighter of the entire group, and even though a short swung now hung on the left side of his saddle pommel he still highly doubted he could put the weapon to much good. The short sword was mainly for any, close encounters as Cedric had put it the day they left Redmont castle.
"It's unlikely you'll need to use it, but it'll be good to have for a defense against any attackers." In turn, Cedric had made sure that Rowan could block effectively with the light weapon, insisting on hours in the blazing heat practicing the basic blocking techniques. The result was effective, and Rowan was rather confident that he could avoid having his head lopped off by a challenger, as long as they were blind.
The thought of fighting seemed far off to Rowan at the moment, he wasn't sure that he feared the thought of knightly combat, or faceless apparitions. He'd almost rather take his chances against a swordsman. At least he might have a chance of doing some damage that way. Fighting a ghost was a different matter, and Rowan wasn't convinced that a well aimed blow from a short sword would harm a ghost, or anger it. He wasn't willing to find out either.
Ahead of him at the straight path widened, allowing at least three men to ride abreast as the head of the party. Cedric moved to one side, and in response, Halt nudged Abelard gently wit his knee, sending the shaggy horse forward to trot beside the Battlemaster.
"Well I haven't seen any faceless ghosts." Cedric said dully, his eyes still searching the surrounding trees, half expecting a demented figure to rise form the underbrush. "Can't say I'm heartbroken about that either." The knight admitted shrewdly.
Halt nodded his grizzled head in response. "We still have a long night ahead of us. I'm sure we'll see something of the kind." Cedric caught the slightest hint of grim humor in Halt's voice and he grinned weakly. The attempt was doomed to failure, and the grin was more of a grotesque grimace.
"Do you really think we'll see something similar to what Collin described?" Cedric asked, voicing Gilan's own thoughts out loud.
"I think not, Collin is little off his rocker, to put it mildly." Halt retorted softly, his tone bordering on grave.
"Let's hope so." Cedric said with a heavy sigh.
The garrison was a bulky mass of dark masonry that, at one point in time might have been a blue color. Now the heavy stone structure was little more than a dark brooding mass as the Knights approached it. The weathered walls towered above the sandy forest floor, the highest point being just before the thick canopy of trees. Directly above the sheltered little structure the sky was in view, and the suns early rays lit the space well. The garrison was a square shape, even on each side, the front of it facing east, towards the knights. A heavy looking wooden door dominated the front side, now open revealing the inside of the deserted post.
The inside was no better than the outside. Wooden pathways ranged the outer edge of the inside interior. Wooden ladders leaned against the edges of the pathways. The floor, similar to that of the forest was bereft of shrubbery and grass . A thin layer of sand and grit coated the ground. To Cedric's dismay there was no sight of any barracks for the knights, with a sinking feeling, he realized that he and his men would be spending the night on the gritty floor. With a slight interest Cedric noticed there were barrels lined on one side of the small fort, along with a waist high post that would work effectively to tether horses to. A thick dank odor hung over the small fort, driven away by the slightest hint of wind.
Something caught Halt's eye, a shiver of movement against the dark masonry of the fort on the top of the path ways. There he made out the dark form of a shadowy figure. It seemed to notice the Knights to, and as the shouts of the knights rang out Halt slid his bow back to full draw, the end of the arrow brushing against the corner of his mouth. Beside him Gilan had done the same.
Decisively, Strider peered over the edge of the wall, it was at least an eight meter drop the rough ground below, where Glade was waiting for her. Hesitantly, she glanced back at the knights behind her, and seeing them drawing there swords made her decision. Holding onto the calloused edge of the wall and swinging her legs over the masonry, she dropped to the ground, extended to full height. As she hit the ground her knees bent, taking the brunt of the drop and sending her into a forwards roll. Behind her she could hear the sounds of knights storming up the ramparts to stare after her. Strider wasted no time, moving swiftly she urged Glade forward. What had happened was more than bad. It was tragic for Strider and the rest of the rebels.