Chapter 15

"Please sit down," Will tried.

"No."

"Please?'

"Not a chance."

"Halt!" Will complained. "You'll reopen your wound."

Halt glowered at him. It was a considerably less terrifying scowl because of the sickly pallor of his skin and that he was shaking. He clutched Will's shoulders to steady himself. The young man took the opportunity to grip his mentor's elbows, holding him in place.

"Antil, tell him he has to sit down," Will tried. Antil repeated this in a less than enthusiastic tone and Halt didn't even grace the healer with a glance in his direction. The other three were grouped around the campfire, wisely staying out of the discussion.

"Let go of me Will Treaty," Halt warned. Will tightened his hold.

"If you're well enough to walk you should be able to break my grip," he challenged. Halt's glare darkened.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said curtly. But the when he tried to tug his arms away it was a disappointing effort and Will couldn't help wincing inside at the feebleness of his mentor at present time.

"Halt, just sit down," Will encouraged, "and let Antil give you the pain killers."

"He can give them to me while I'm standing." The ranger's glared at each other, one as stubborn as a mule and the other trained to be the same. Antil cleared his throat several times. He fiddled with the herbs.

"If you sit down now you'll regain you're strength faster," Will reasoned. "Then you'll be able to run around all you like."

Halt bristled, a bruise forming over his dignity. He didn't like being lectured by his apprentice (he would always consider Will to be that no matter how many years past) and he certainly didn't like that he couldn't pull free of the hands on his elbows.

Their thunderous gazes met and the others could almost see stags locking antlers in the air above them, a tsunami meets a forest fire, the first clash of the battle where neither side would back down. Will wouldn't release his mentor because he feared Halt would hurt himself, and Halt refused to sit down. They could see no immediate solution to the impasse.

"Time for me to go foraging," Sirisa declared.

"I volunteer to check the snares," Ruch said.

"I'll help you!" Lillian scampered after the old man.

Antil watched them disappear, then turned his attention back to the pig headed rangers. He cleared his throat again. His eyebrows arched in a regal manner that he learnt from the long forgotten days of being a doctor in the Oramine court.

"What was that," he began, "about working together?"

Will smiled ruefully. He searched the healer's face for some humour, but those dark eyes were as dead as always. He sometimes thought Antil didn't much care if he lived or died. And sometimes in the darkest hours of night Will could understand the sentiment. They were so cut off from the outside world in the jungle that they might as well be gone altogether. Alyss was a distant memory, still it was her and the sun on castle Redmont that kept him hoping.

"You're right," Will conceded. "Halt and I also need to work together. Right, Halt?"

"Of course," Halt agreed smoothly. "So let me be and carry on with your day."

"I think not. A better solution would be if you rested and I got to collect water without worrying about your safety."

"That isn't agreeable to me."

Will could see he wasn't going to win this one. Nothing he could say about safety would get through to his mentor.

"Fine." He vented an exasperated sigh. Halt preened though his irritable stubborness was not something to be proud of.

"I'm glad we're agreed."

Antil was also glad they'd agreed. "Do you want those pain killers now?" he offered and Halt considered it, his pride allowing him to ignore his former apprentice's not-so-discreet mouthing of the words 'give them to him anyway'. He needn't have bothered, Halt decided that some relief from the pain rippling from his stomach was welcome.

He sauntered over to Antil, tossing a smug look at Will over his shoulder. The younger man crossed his arms, annoyed and a fraction upset that his opinion on whether or not Halt was well enough to walk had been ignored.

As good as it was to see his mentor up and about, he worried that Halt would push himself too far. It wouldn't be the first time. In Will's fourth year of training, his undefeatable mentor came down with a cold. It was the middle of winter and he just kept making them keep on riding,camping, tracking and all the other ranger shenanigans they got up to, until he emptied his stomach in the bushes and came down with a raging fever. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if he'd just taken a day off to recover, Redmont's healer had told them.

Although, he had to smile at the memory. After that, he'd been too nervous to tell Halt when he fell ill in case the ranger was disappointed or thought him weak for not pushing on. Ironically, when the grizzled, stubborn ranger found out he told his apprentice it was foolish to go beyond one's limits and made him stay in bed all day.

Well, whatever his mentor said, Will wasn't going to leave the clearing if he wasn't sure Halt would take proper care of himself. It was true he had grown to trust Antil, yet the healer wasn't very assertive and even assertive men had cowed to Halt when the ranger dug his heels in and declared the proceedings that would happen or else.

"It tastes disgusting," Halt complained. He'd lifted the herbs to his mouth, touched them with his tongue, screwed up his face and now was frowning at the fidgeting healer.

"It will ease your pain," Antil said.

"And ruin my taste buds," Halt muttered. Will wondered if he'd be in a better mood after he took the medicine and wasn't in as much pain. With that thought came impatience for his mentor to hurry up and eat it already before he made them all suffer.

"You're a terrible patient," Will said. "Just take the pain killers."

Halt cocked his head, looking mildly disturbed. "You know," he said, "Pauline has said those exact words many a time."

"Pauline knows best," Will agreed. "Maybe you should listen to her."

"Actually I think Crowley has said them as well," Halt mused, looking thoughtful.

"Halt, everyone who knows you has said something along those lines," Will said patiently. "Why don't you listen to the whole of Araluen and her uncle Charlie and the horses and dogs and old Billy who lives by the creek and take the painkillers?"

"That was a bit excessive," Halt observed, one eyebrow quirking up. Will's lips twitched at the expression. It felt like an age since he'd seen that particular quizzical look. "Getting a bit theatrical there, are you?"

"A bit stir crazy with all these trees and not much else," Will agreed.

"There's nothing wrong with trees," Halt told him. "They don't nag at you to take your medicine. They don't ask questions either."

He swallowed the herbs and grimanced. Will grinned at him.

"That bad?"

"You have no idea."

Antil was sorting out what herbs he had, what ones he needed and starting to mix up a concotion to ward off infection. Will wasn't looking forward to the fuss his mentor would make when they had to check over his wound.

As it was, he shouldn't have worried. Antil toold him later that he'd added a herb to make the ranger sleepy amongst the painkillers. Before long, Halt had eased himself to the ground. Will helped him onto the tiger fur, conscious of a tight hold on his shoulder because while Halt was alright when standing, the transition from standing to sitting (and vice versa) caused him considerable pain even with the herbs in his system.

"What are all these four?" Halt asked, motioning to the piles of leaves. "Why do you need so many? I don't need this much medicine."

"If Antil says you do, you do," Will said.

"Antil's wrong," Halt said shortly.

"With all due respect," Antil spoke up, an edge of offense layering his voice, "I've been a healer for a long time now."

He proved this by giving a detailed explanation of why each leaf was necessary, adorning his speech with both medical terms and Oramine words to ensure it sounded impressive enough. Halt remained unimpressed and muttered that it sounded like gibberish to him. His eyelids were drooping and it didn't take him long to fall asleep. It was never known if he heard Will apologising for his rudeness on his behalf because he didn't want Antil to slip back into depression or decide he didn't want to help the ranger.

Once he was asleep Antil and Will checked over his wound. They washed it, applied the suitable herbs and rebound it in another strip of ranger cloak.

Satisfied that his mentor was subdued, Will decided he would go off on his usual exploration of the area in search of a clue, a hint, anything to get them out of here.

"Watch him closely," he instructed. "I won't be long and if he starts wanting to, I don't know, investigate the river for a way home, tell him Pauline would be angry if he left his bedroll."

"Pauline would be angry, got it."

Will was learning the landmarks around their campsite. Each day he could go further and further without fearing he would get lost in the dense jungle. He decided to take another look around the rocks where he'd found the obsidian.

Rocks gave him a welcomed break from the moist green. He kicked a loose stone with his toe, sending it cluttering a metre or so. Dark shards of obsidian dotted the ground. He wondered where it had come from. Had it formed here in Oramin, or had it been washed here long ago? He couldn't help thinking that it looked as if someone had found a massive boulder of it and hacked off piece after piece until the rocks were littered with black stars.

"Did the tribespeople have obsidian spears?" Will asked himself. He had developed a habit of musing aloud when he was alone. It helped to hear a voice even if it was his own. At first, he had been concerned that he was going mad, but he supposed it was just a step up from talking to Tug. Either way, no one talked back though Tug tried his best to communicate.

A lump rose in his throat and tears prickled in his eyes. The reaction was so sudden and unexpected that he touched his cheek just under his eye as a single tear fell. It was not Alyss that finally got to him, it was his faithful horse and Alyss, Horace, Redmont, the baron and everyone else came flooding through his system after Tug knocked down his barriers.

Will slowly curled over his knees, huddling on the ground. He could see them, taste them, so real, so much more prominent and right here than he had been able to imagine before now. The smell of Jenny's cooking was oh so close. The tickle of Alyss's hair against his neck. The shing as Horace unshathed his sword. Arald's ridiculous speeches, the humdrum farmers that waved hello, the soldiers on the battlements.

Never was a long time to not see someone. That was why they had to escape from the jungle.

He allowed himself to let his emotions get the better of him. Back when he was a child, he could throw himself on the bed and sob his heart out when he was upset. What a waste because back then, he didn't know what upset was. As a ranger he had to keep a lasso around his emotions. He could allocate some time to cry if he needed it. He could not wait for his tears to dry on their own. After a minute, he had to scrub his cheeks, stand up and keep on walking.

Will searched for the ring in his pocket. He folded his fist over it. It was safe in his pocket and he didn't dare remove it. Surperstition perhaps, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if the Oramine sun spotted the band of gold it would find a way to take it from him.

He shouted out as he lost his footing. Or rather, his foot lost the ground. Where he had stepped, the rocks had crumbled away, leaving his foot knee deep in a hollow.

"That was strange," Will muttered. He twisted his leg free of the ground. Back on secure footing, he shrugged to himself and headed back to camp. There was no point in continueing that way if the earth was to disappear under him. He didn't want to risk a broken leg.

Besides, he couldn't see anything of interest. He trusted that Ruch would check all the snares and they could discuss what to do for the rest of the day when they met back at camp. Will was determined that they work through everything as a team and when the others had their grumpy moments, he would bring up the success of the weapons making to point out the value of teamwork.

He did have his spear with him at present. Will remembered once seeing a poacher in Seacliff thank a deer after he killed it. When Will had queried this, he'd said that it was just something hunters did to show their appreciation and respect to the dead animal. Halt had never practised this. He was more of the mindset 'it's dead, it doesn't care if you thank it or not'.

Will thought he understood where the hunting tradition had come from. He inclined his head and thanked the earth for giving him the obsidian. It was too easy for the jungle to work against them. So he thanked it for going easy on them, for giving them tools and food, even if at times they did not deserve it.

Will sensed that something was amiss before he reached the campsite. He fought off a tremor of fear for his mentor and doubled his efforts to tread in stealh. A redwood tree provided adequate cover to duck behind. He edged his face around, drawing the cowl of his mutilated cloak over his head.

The first thing to draw his attention was Halt, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his hand on his stomach. The next thing, because he was too experienced to give in to his desire to rush over to his mentor straght away, was that Antil was nowhere in sight.

A further scan of the territory revealed no hidden threats. Coming to a decision, Will clenched the spear and approached his mentor.

Halt turned at his soft footfalls. It eased Will's racing mind to see that while his mentor appeared haggard and concerned, there was no immediate fear in his eyes. He loosened his hold on the spear.

"Where's Antil?" he asked.

"Lillian showed up in tears and asked him to come with her," Halt supplied. "I would have followed them but..." he trailed off and glared down at his bandaged middle, then switched his glare to his former apprentice, daring him to comment.

"He just left you here on your own?" Will asked, stricken. He cleared the thought from his mind, realising that for all his faults, Antil wouldn't have done so unless there had been a reason. Halt's glare sharpened and Will hurried on. "What's going on? Has someone been hurt?"

"Ruch," Halt confirmed. "That's all I could make out."

Torn, Will knew he couldn't leave Halt alone. Equally, he couldn't do nothing without knowing what was going on. As if reading his mind, Halt painfully pushed away from the tree.

"I'll be fine. I'll...watch the camp." He actually grimanced as he said it. Will knew he hated admitting weakness. "You go and help the others. They'll need a leader."

Will hesitated.

"Go on," Halt encouraged. "I'll even sit down." He made his way to the tiger pelts and eased his way to the ground, a hiss whistling past his teeth. "Sirisa will be back soon anyway. She can help me watch the camp."

"Alright," Will nodded.

"Will?"

"Yes Halt?"

"Stay safe."

Will smiled. "You too," he said. He tried to give Halt his spear but the ranger muttered that he was wasting time so he gave up on that idea. Halt pointed out the direction they'd gone. Will hoped it wouldn't be hard to find them. He didn't think it would be; Ruch had been checking the snares so there was a limited number of places he could be.

It didn't take long to find them. Towards where the swamp had been, he heard high pitched, hysterical sobs. Will quickened his pace. He didn't know what he expected. A broken leg maybe, or a large predator (like that tiger). What he did see surprised him.

Lillian had her head in her hands, utterly frantic. Ruch was lying perfectly still on the ground, his eyes shut and his mouth gaping in raspy breath. Antil leaned over him, his lips against the man's calf, sucking and spitting.

"What's going on?" Will asked. Lillian let out a little shriek and ran to him. He put a supportive arm around her shoulders, even though he didn't consider himself to be the strong pillar she needed to lean against. His heart thudded in his chest and he had a horrible feeling.

Antil didn't even acknowledge him. He was too busy dealing with-with whatever he was dealing with, Will failed to figure out what exactly it was. That was the way it should be for a healer and he turned to Lillian for answers.

"Lillian." He brushed the tears from her cheeks and forced her to look at him. "Calm down. Just tell me what happened?"

She let out a shaky breath and jerked her head up and down. "We were checking the snares," she said in a tremulous voice, the words spilling from her. "There was-it was- I didn't even see it, I had turned to go back but when I turned around he wasn't with me. And then- then I went back for him and he-" she couldn't finished and shuddered.

"And what, Lillian?" Will encouraged. He had to force back a desire to shake her until he got answers.

"He-he was holding his ankle. He looked up at me and lifted his spear and-oh lord- on the end was this snake."

Will had already scanned the area and there was no abandoned spear, least of all with a snake on the end.

Lillian continued: "He had tears on his face and he groaned. I-I tried to lift him and take him back to the campsite and at first he said I was being brave and not to worry. Then he couldn't speak anymore, he started stumbling any which way and slumping. I couldn't carry him any further, he wasn't able to walk."

Which explained why the spear wasn't around, they must have left it behind. Will looked to where Antil was sucking and spitting from Ruch's leg. It made sense now. He prayed that the snakes in Oramin weren't too venomous.

"Then you ran and got Antil," Will finished for her. She whimpered confirmation.

Antil sat back on his heels. He rested his air against Ruch's chest then over his lips, touched two fingers to the fluttery pulse in his throat and wrists. He turned dull eyes on them and they knew.

"What type of snake?" Will asked, amazed that his voice didn't waver.

"Cobra," Antil answered. That had been the first thing he'd asked when Lillian had fetched him. She'd described what she'd seen and he filled in the gaps.

Ruch let out a shuddering breath. Antil pressed a hand to his forehead. This was not a medical gesture. It was comfort.

"He has no time left," Antil whispered. "He's been through all the stages. Pain, vertigo and drowsiness, paralysis, a coma and all that is left now is heart failure."

Will couldn't believe it. "How can that be?" In battle, sure, he had lost more than one comrade. But there had to be a warning. There was always a warning. It couldn't come out of nowhere. That wasn't right, it wasn't fair!

"In some cases, cobra poison can take only thirty minutes to kill," Antil said. Right on cue, his eyelashes flickered and defeat crossed his face as he touched Ruch's neck. Will knew by that expression that the pulse had stopped.

Will couldn't cry for him. It wouldn't sink in. Only this morning Ruch had been fit as anything. And there was his obsidian sword at his belt, worn with pride and unused in combat. He'd only just finished it.

It was unfathomable that, just like that, without warning, he was gone.