Chapter 13

"No! Will!" These two words were torn from the lips of an ill ranger. Husky, breathless and quiet as they were, it was still enough to shatter the blanket of silence over the campsite.

Will was on watch and he did something any soldier would be reprimanded for. He deserted his post. His boots made no noise as he treaded past the sleeping Oramine, past the curled up form of Lillian, to kneel beside his mentor.

Halt was sweating and trembling. His cracked lips were open as he panted and mumbled disjointed words. Will heard his own name mentioned there a few times.

"Halt?" he whispered, careful not to wake the others. His fingertips fluttered over his mentor's forehead, cheeks and chin. Hot. He was burning up. Antil had said his fever was breaking!

"Blasted Skandians," Halt muttered. Helpless, Will gripped the sweaty hand in both of his. He could see distress in the older ranger's furrowed brow. "Find you. I...find...Will."

"Find me?" Will repeated. "I'm right here, Halt. I'm right here." He released the hand and nudged his mentor instead. "Wake up," he pleaded. He hated to see this weakness in the one who had been a figure of rock solid dependable strength throughout Will's life.

"Promise," Halt mumbled.

Will shook him harder. If his mentor had been well, no doubt he would have woken up right away. He was lost deep in his feverish dreams and muddled memories. After a minute of trying, Halt's dark eyes flickered open, though they were glazed.

"Will?" He asked, squinting at the shape hovering over him.

"I'm right here," Will said again. "Are you awake now?"

Halt groaned softly. "How long has it been?" he asked. "I feel like I've lived my," he paused, grimancing as a wave of pain washed over him, then gathered his wits and finished his sentence, "whole life in this godforsaken jungle."

"I feel the same," Will agreed. "It hasn't even been three weeks." He forced a bright smile. "Don't worry, we'll be out of here soon."

"What's happened to your cloak?" Halt asked drowsily, already beginning to drift back into sleep. Will glanced down at his ranger cloak. The hem was ragged and it didn't quite reach his knees.

"I've been tearing strips off for bandages," he explained. He thought he saw disapproval in Halt's frown. "I can get a new one back in Araluen," he said in defence.

"That won't help you here," Halt muttered, grimancing again from the pain.

"Antil has painkillers," Will said, changing the subject. He glanced at the neat stacks of ground herbs, each one on a scrap of cloth torn from the bottom of the healer's pants. "I'm not sure which they are," he admitted.

He crawled over to Antil. The healer was fast asleep and snoring softly. Will shook him, despite feeling a tiny speck of guilt at waking him. Sleep didn't come easy in the jungle.

Antil's whole body jerked as he snapped awake. He relaxed when he saw it was only the young ranger.

"Halt needs painkillers," Will told him.

Antil moaned and stretched, dragging himself to the piles of herbs with far less enthusiasm than Will would have liked. He pinched a sprinkle of ground leaves and held it above Halt's mouth. The ranger hesitated, than accepted the medicine.

"You can go back to sleep," Will said to Antil, and the healer complied, this time with much more enthusiasm.

Halt was soon asleep as well, a much more peaceful sleep with the aid of the painkillers. Will spread the tattered remains of his cloak over his mentor. He hoped to burn out the fever before dawn.

"Back to your watch, soldier," Will muttered to himself. He was too self disciplined to sprawl out under the shelter as he wanted to, so he made his way back to the best spot for keeping watch. It was a frigid night, not the right weather for being without his cloak, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Their meagre diet ensured he'd lost plenty of weight; his ribs stuck out and there was no fat on his skinny frame to protect him from the cold. At least it wasn't raining anymore.

When his watch was over, he made his way back to the shelter. The coals of the fire glowed and he could see the others trying to keep warm. Lillian was curled in a tight ball and Ruch was shivering under his coat. Sirisa had crept closer to Antil, the two of them sharing body warmth.

Will woke Ruch for his watch. The older man didn't complain, though he did mention with a rueful smile that the jungle wasn't any place for old bones.

"I'm sorry for earlier," he said and Will could see he was sincere. "You're right, we should at least be able to work together."

Will sighed. "Oh don't apologise," he said. "I know none of you intend to be diffcult." He offered a weary smile. If his real friends had been around, they would have known that smile wasn't a patch on his usual cheeky grins. They weren't, Ruch didn't know better, so he smiled back and went off to his watch.

Will stretched out beside Halt. He wormed closer because he still wanted to burn out the fever and his body warmth would help with that. He also wanted to share the woollen ranger cloaks and the warmth they provided.

He slept. It was the only discovered way to escape from the jungle.

….

Will was woken by a scraping sound. At first, he thought he was dozing with Horace nearby sharpening his sword. Then he realised the scraping was to clumsy for that. It was uneven, and it would clink now and again. As he became less disoriented, he realised it couldn't have been Horace anyway. The oakleaf knight wasn't in Oramin jungle.

He raised himself onto his elbow. The dawn light was filtering through the canopy. It was not yet bright enough for perfect vision, so one of the others had lit the campfire. Red sparks blazed before Will's eyes.

"Good morning."

Will glanced around, startled to see Halt watching him with a hint of amusement. The young ranger beamed.

"Good morning!" He felt his mentor's forehead. Still warm; nothing like the raging fever in the night. Even better, Halt was propped up on one elbow.

"He's not to sit up," Antil said. Will glanced around at the healer, and saw the cause of the scraping noises.

Antil had a block of obsidian in each hand and was grazing them together. He had his jacket bundled around his hands to protect them, and a look of resignition on his face. Ruch was doing the same with grim determination. Lillian was holding a branch steady while Sirisa ran the sharp edge of obsidian up it. Her hands were protected by her jacket too.

Will was astonished. He looked to them, to Halt, back at the Oramine.

"Antil and I are making the spearheads," Ruch explained. "The girls are making the handles. We're all sorry for our behaviour and we're going to try and work as a team now. Right everyone?"

Antil sniffed; the cloth wasn't infallible and blood trickled down his wrist. Lillian nodded and smiled, though she had the easy job.

Sirisa huffed, "I still don't like working with the foreigners," she said. She didn't stop working.

Will didn't know what to say. Halt nudged him and whispered, "you're the leader here. Let them know they're doing well."

So Will stood up and grinned at them. This time, it was a real grin, one with true optimisim and hope. "Keep up the excellent work!" he said. "When we've got these weapons finished, there won't be anything in the forest that can harm us!"

"Hear, hear," Ruch cheered. The others doubled their efforts.

Will retrieved his ranger cloak and swung it over his shoulders. "Since I'm the leader here," he said, addressing Halt. "That means you have to do as I say."

"Don't push it," Halt growled.

Will ignored him. "And I say you have to lie down and rest. You heard Antil. You're not to sit up."

"I am not sitting up," Halt protested with great dignity. "I am merely propped up on my elbow. That is not the same thing as sitting up."

"Just lie down Halt," Will persisted. He pushed at his mentor's shoulders, surprised and a little disappointed when Halt didn't, couldn't, offer much resistance.

Halt glowered at him, but he didn't try to get up. Satisfied, Will approached the others. They were all absorbed in their work.

He sorted through the obsidian for a good piece. Since they all seemed to have a system going, he asked, "what would you like me doing?"

"Make youself useful and check the snares," Sirisa said. Her mouth twitched in a grin and he didn't take her sharp tone to heart.

"I'll see if I can cook you all a tasty lunch then," he said. "Never let it be said Will Treaty doesn't look after his workers."

"I'll take the lamb shanks," Lillian said, her eyes misting over. "Or stuffed potatoes with lots of butter. And a loaf of fresh bread straight from the oven as my starter."

"I'll do my best," Will gave her a couteous bow, like he had seen knights do for the ladies of the castle. "I can't promise we'll be serving that order today, but I might be able to do a roasted game bird and nuts."

"That'd do me," Ruch said.

So Will headed for the snares. They had a couple of birds; he was calling them pheasants because they had a similarity to the ones back home and the oramine word for them was gibberish to his ears. He swung them over his shoulder and foraged for fruit and nuts.

Sirisa had described the locations for where she had found fruit trees. Will was just bundling up his third mango in his cloak (nowdays it was a bag and a bandage before it was a ranger cloak) when he noticed movement in his peripheral vision.

Most people would have spun around and peered intently at the spot. Will turned away and continued to tie up his cloak. He knew his peripheral vision would pick up a threat better than direct staring.

He was all too aware that he had the bleeding carcasses of pheasants over his shoulder. That was bound to attract predators. He hefted the cloak of magoes and nuts under his arm and turned to leave.

A thought occurred to him. What if it was a tribesperson hiding in the bushes? He didn't want to lead them back to camp. Will had to return sometime even if he did lead them on a wild goose chase. He could possibly drop the food when they'd gone a distance, roll into cover and ghost back to the campsite. But that would be foolish if it was just a wild animal; he'd lose the food for no reason.

Will came to a decision. He faced the bushes, though he made sure to keep his eyes roaming around for more threats.

"Who's there?" he called. "Show yourself!"

There was nothing, not even a breath of wind. He waited. When ten minutes passed without anything happening, he crossed over to where he'd seen the movement. He brushed aside the dark green leaves. There in the soil was a pawprint.

An animal then. He knelt down to examine it. The thing with tracking was to know what you're looking at, you have to have seen the print before. This one had a passing resemblence wild cats, but it was bigger. Much bigger.

Will didn't much like the thought that a predator that big had been three metres away from him. He hadn't heard it, or seen it slink away after the rustle of bushes.

It would be good to have the spears finished.

Will hurried back to camp. He didn't tell the others about his discovery; he didn't want to frighten them, especially Lillian who was prone to panic. They ate lunch and then kept on crafting their spears.

Halt woke again. Will excused himself to talk to his mentor, claiming that if someone didn't keep a close eye on him, Halt would keep trying to move around. He used this time to whisper in Halt's ear about the print.

"Sounds like a tiger," Halt said. "What's that bird doing over there? Cook it. You don't want raw meat lying around the campsite."

"We were saving it for dinner," Will said, but he saw the point, so he roasted that one too and they stuffed themselves with a second lunch. He tossed bones and leftover bits as far from camp as he was willing to walk.

Time had never passed as slowly as it did in the jungle. Evening came years after morning. They had all started to bicker again, so Will told them they'd done well and it was time to call it a day.

The girls had finished two spear handles. Lillian showed one of the spears to Halt and they both sat fingering the smooth surface of wood. The rest of them had been working with the obsidian and their hands hurt too much to admire the texture of wood.

There hadn't been much progress with the spear heads. They had worked hard on them, but it took a long time to carve the rock. Ruch had done the best, he had two sides out of three flat and narrowed to a point.

This is how they spent their time over the next few days. There were ups and downs. Doing something, achieving something, rather than sitting around camp kept their spirits high. That is, until there was a day with little food and they became short tempered. Then there would be a fight between Sirisa and Lillian. The word 'jujoan' was tossed around a lot.

Halt woke at irregular intervals. At first, he tried to get up. Will told him that if he was well enough to sit up, he was well enough to start carving and after that the ranger decided he might as well lie down and stare at the canopy.

The spear handles were finished before the tops and Sirisa joined in making the heads. Lillian was then appointed to tying on the heads to the handles. They had five handles and only two heads, so this wasn't a huge job.

It soon became apparent that it was difficult for her. They had sacrificed a few snares for the string. The shape was tricky to tie on effectively, so they'd sharpened the handles to a point, and gouged out a matching hole in the obsidian so they fitted together. The string was to hold it; it wouldn't stay on its own, they just hoped the strategy would help keep the spears together.

Lillian struggled to tie an adequate knot. She pricked her finger on the obsidian, and paused to suck on it. Will moved over to help her.

"Like this," he said and demonstrated a better knot.

"Can foreigner women not do anything on their own?" Sirisa scorned.

Lillian flushed. "What is your problem?" she asked, her voice strained. "It's all you ever talk about. I'm Sirisa, I'm just so much better at everything than everyone else. I don't like foreigners because I'm a close minded jujoan!"

Will wished the courier would go back to being shy. He could see Sirisa's lips drawing back, her eyebrows arching down.

"You don't know anything!" she snapped. "You're all the same. You think you have a right to do anything you want, trample on anyone you want! You think you know all about Oramin but you don't! You don't know anything!" Her voice had risen to a scream.

"Quiet," Will said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "You don't want those tribespeople to hear us, if they're still around."

"Don't tell me to be quiet! I don't have to listen to a foreigner. You don't know anything."

"You're right," Will said. "I don't know much at all. What I do know is, this is your fault we're in this mess, not the fault of us foreigners." He shouldn't have let himself get drawn in, shouldn't have pointed fingers.

Sirisa spun on her heel and disappeared into the jungle. Ruch rose, taking a step after her.

"Sirisa!" he called. "Come back!"

Will placed a hand on the old man's shoulder. "I'll get her," he assured. "You keep working on the spears."

"Wait, take this," Lillian said, holding out the only finished spear, the one he had helped her tie the knot of. Will nodded.

"Thanks," he said. It didn't give him the sense of security that holding his bow gave him. This weapon was crudely made and the wood felt lifeless, unfamiliar in his hand. Even so, he remembered the tiger pawprint and was grateful to have anything with a point.

He headed off into the depths of the jungle, the spear held at his side. "Sirisa?" he called as he walked. It was late in the day; the sun was begginning to set, hence why they were all tired and grumpy. "Sirisa, it's almost nightfall. You know there are dangerous animals prowling at night. Come back to the camp."

His voice echoed rang loud in the still forest. It was wrong, it felt all wrong to be making noise. Will stopped and closed his eyes. He listened. A whimpering noise came from somewhere above him.

"Sirisa?" he called again, this time more quietly. He thought he saw a shadowy movement in the tree. Will tucked the spear under his arm and climbed smoothly up the trunk.

"Go away," she muttered. She was perched on a branch, her legs drawn to her chin and her arms wrapped around them.

Will got comfortable on another branch. He was close enough to talk to her, and far enough away to have a respectful distance between them, like he might when dealing with animals.

"I climb when I'm upset too," he said. "Back in the ward, there was a someone I didn't get along with at all. When we had a fight, I would go right to the top of a tree where he couldn't reach me. I felt safe there." There was no reaction from Sirisa, though she had stopped her crying. He continued, "I suppose that's harder here where everyone can climb trees. You might be better off on the ground. Even so, there's something magical about being in the high branches, don't you agree?"

Whether she did or not, she didn't say. Instead, she asked quietly, "the ward, what is that?"

So Will told her about being an orphan, about growing up in the ward with Horace, George, Jenny and Alyss.

"I'm an orphan too," Sirisa said. "We don't have a ward in Oramin. Ruch let me sleep in his home on the condition I cleaned for him until I was old enough to move out."

"That must have been tough," Will said.

"No it wasn't," Sirisa sniffed. "It would have been tough if I was a jujoan. I'm not."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. After a period of silence broken by the whisper of the forest, Sirisa asked, "how did your parents die?"

Will told her about Morgarath and the battle of Hackham Heath. He told her about Daniel saving Halt and how Halt had taken him back to Redmont. In return, Sirisa told him her story.

The conflict between Oramin and Aras was one that had gone on for decades. When Sirisa was six, her father and older brothers left to fight the Arasi. They were to travel around the forest and meet the Arasi with their swords and spears on the plains. Sirisa had not understood this at the time. When she asked her father where they were going he told her, 'we have to defend our country from foreigners.'

Her mother had passed away from an illness years ago. Her father and brothers never came back.

It was dark by now. Will sensed that any words of sympathy he might have come up with would be lost in the black before they reached Sirisa.

"We should get back to camp," he said.

"Alright," Sirisa sighed.

They slipped nimbly down the tree and onto the forest floor.

"I can't see anything," Sirisa complained. Will admitted that they'd never get back to camp without a light.

"Hold up," he said. "I've got my flint. I'll see if I can make a torch." He felt around for a dry stick. There was no shortage of ferns and lichen to use as kindling.

He arranged his collection on the ground. He'd light a fire on the forest floor, then hold astick to it to light his torch. Will scraped at the soil around his makeshift fireplace with his fingernails. He didn't want any loose greenery catching.

"Hurry up," Sirisa muttered. Down from the safety of the tree, the darkness was much more frightening.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Will hissed. He flicked his flint stones against each other. One spark. Two. Three and the fire caught. He leaned over it, nursing it to life.

"Will," Sirisa said, a tremble in her voice.

"Hang on, almost there," Will said, hunched over his fire.

"Will look," she said. The panic was evident in her tone. Will frowned and looked up.

The orange and black pelt of a tiger glowed in the firelight from behind the leaves of a bush. Its eyes glinted, watching them, assessing how good a meal they would make.