Will finds himself fighting yet another threat to the kingdom, but he realizes really how different this enemy is. This person's power feeds on revenge sought by past evils. He asks for help from old friends and stumbles across new ones with similar vendettas; though some have questionable motives, unlikely alliances are struck to fight a seemingly infallible enemy. Canon parings.
We'll meet again tomorrow. It's been a long day, and I want everyone to be able to absorb what they've heard so far. Evanlyn's voice spoke to Will again as he entered one of the guest rooms, and adjusted to the fading light streaming in through the window. We'll see if we can come up with anything then.
But so far, we're at a bit of a dead end, Will added dryly to himself. He had made sure Tug was comfortable in his stables before going back up to the castle where Evanlyn offered everyone a place to sleep for the night, so they could get immediately to work in the morning.
Will took in his surroundings, both consciously and subconsciously noting every hiding spot, every shadow, every nook and cranny. Everything was painted with a horrid shade of royal red-purple, from the hanging curtains, to the feather bed, to the plush carpeting on the floor.
The young Ranger wondered if Evanlyn had asked Baron Arald for home decorating advice, and if she had... Well, there was no logical, earthly explanation why would she ever do that. Will slowly backed out of the room before his eyes could wither up in his sockets and peeked to the left and right. He tried other rooms, but they were all locked, except for Halt's. Will was in no mood for Halt's mood, and was still a bit miffed at his old mentor's comment earlier despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him he had just been joking.
Ah, so he was stuck with the death chamber.
Stop complaining, you twit, that same voice berated him as he reluctantly re-entered and shut himself in for the night, you should consider yourself lucky.
If you say so, he replied, sinking in several inches on the luxurious mattress as he threw himself onto it. But really, who ever enjoyed the feeling of drowning in plush quicksand? He took off his boots, socks, and outer clothes and threw them onto the floor (immediately afterwards regretting spoiling the admittedly clean room and forcing himself to fold his garments neatly) and fell back into bed.
I'm never going to be able to go to sleep, Will thought as he shifted around on the bed. In light of the new information he fought off his usual night musings and recounted his thoughts.
This new person, whoever he was, had a grudge against the Rangers. It was obviously someone the Corps had tangled with before, and someone powerful: a major enemy if he had the courage to outright speak against the group in their own country by attacking innocent civilians. But why? And how? When would he strike again?
He rubbed his eyes and brushed back his untidy hair while he stared at the ceiling.
I'll never be able to sleep. He thought again. I'll have to stay awake the entire night. My mind is too busy. But despite himself and the millions of thoughts running around his head, he felt himself drift into unconsiousness.
"Hullo, Will." The Ranger turned around and saw a little boy smiling at him.
"Er, hello?" Will answered. Who...?
"Do you know my name?" The boy walked up to him, holding out his hands as if ready to embrace the older of the two.
"S-Should I know who you are?" Will tried backing away but it seemed as if he was stuck where he was standing. An irrational fear started to boil in the pit of his stomach as the boy approached.
"How meaningless life is, Will, how utterly insignificant life is, when you're dead, hm?"
Steel arms wrapped themselves around Will's body and the boy looked up with cheeky innocence. "There is a hell, Will. You sent me there, and now I'm taking you with me." Will gasped as flesh began melting off of bone and seared into his own skin.
"Sto-stop it!"
With horror, Will realized his own skin had already fallen off, revealing glistening white bone. There was an intense pain in his chest and he looked down to see an arrow had pierced both of them together, him in the heart and the boy in the throat.
He was trapped, and sinking, sinking, sinking in suffocating heat. The boy laughed even as they fell into darkness.
"Hell is where the murderers go after all, Will."
Will woke up gasping, the nauseating feeling of free-falling still pulling his insides apart. He was twisted up in the revolting covers and his clothes were damp with cold sweat. He scrambled out of bed and stripped his hot undershirt, revealing a sweat-slicked torso still covered with old scars. Cold air screamed in his ear along with the pounding of his blood as he ran out of his room, through the hallway, and unable to hold it any longer, vomited in the nearest potted plant.
He shakily sat against the wall, laying his hot cheek on the cold Nihon ceramic jar where the gift from Emperor Shigeru grew. He grimaced in hindsight, but only spared a few seconds of remorse for the plant.
These nightmares... Will had been having these often, and they been plaguing his sleep ever since... ever since...
He couldn't even remember.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to.
As soon as his heart began to beat at a healthy rate, Will stood up cautiously and retired back to his own room. It was still hellishly hot, so he opened a window to let the cool night breeze in.
He stared at the moon, bright against the inky black sky, and tried to keep his eyes open for a little while longer.
He didn't want the nightmares to come back again.
"Hey, Lorri!" Loreto looked down and saw Rondo waving at her and gesturing for her to come down. She shook her head and crawled back up to the highest part of the roof. She was stringing her crossbow, and as old as it was, it took time, concentration, and most of all, no interference by any snot-nosed, impudent idiota.
After a moment, she could hear a scrabble of feet and some displacement of roof tiles before Rondo dragged himself onto the roof.
"Dannazione, Lorri, why are you such a cold-hearted puttana?" he pouted, craning his neck to peer at her hunched over figure. She ignored him and continued stringing her bow, making sure that the tension was correct. His had been her grandpapa's crossbow, and it was very, very old. She would have inherited her papa's crossbow, if it had ever come back.
If he had ever come back.
"What do you want?" she asked, turning back to the older boy. His green eyes shone at some hidden joke, as was usual for the arrogant youth, just shy of turning twenty one next moon.
"Insegnante wants to see us," he said. Lorri felt her insides clench at the sound of their sexist pig of a mentor.
"Why? Does he wish to give another lecture on how girls are only meant for childbirth?"
"That was only one time, and you weren't even there!"
"Shut up-"
"What I was going to say," Rondo continued, "was that he wants to see us because he let out a small hint that maybe one of us is going to get our feathers today..."
Loreto's eyebrows shot up and she muttered, "You better not be joking or I am ripping off your-"
"Just come, idiota, and you'll know!"
Loreto followed her senior down the roof, blood rushing to her face at the thought of finally being able to graduate. That would bring her only closer to her goal.
Dannazione if she didn't get her feather, and dannazione if she couldn't put a crossbow in those Rangers' throats by the end of her eighteenth year on this earth.
A/N: Thanks to Dash99, snaps10, FarmersDaughter, Ranger robbin and Savannah Silverstone for reviewing.
Dannazione- Damn it
Puttana- B*tch
Insegnante- Teacher
Idiota- self-explanatory
If you have any problems with translations, please tell me so.
EDIT: Chapters 1 and 2 have been edited.