Chapter 12: Fear

It wasn't very long after he had finished the meagre meal of bread and apple when the men came for him. Will was sitting, relishing the feeling of a full belly for the first time in what felt like months, and so didn't notice the men's arrival until the door was already open. This time there was no doubt about why the guards were here; they were going to take him back to Morgarath.

He didn't bother to stand as the door was pushed open and three men filed into the small cell. One of the men quickly unlocked the shackle around his ankle while the other two pulled him roughly to his feet, aggravating his various injuries. Despite the sudden burst of pain that erupted all over his body, Will couldn't help noticing that something strange was happening. Last time the guards had just unhooked the chain connecting his shackle to the ring and used the chain to pull him along. This time they removed the chain and shackle completely. Will didn't have any more time to wonder about what this change in routine could mean however, as he was quickly pulled out of the cell and half dragged, half marched, along the maze of corridors until he was thoroughly lost.

Eventually, with Will's head pounding in time with his heartbeat from the rough walk, they stopped in front of a strangely intimidating, studded iron door. The guards all straightened, getting into some kind of formation, with the man holding Will by his (thankfully uninjured) shoulder at the front. With a gesture from the guard restraining Will, one of the other men stepped forward and knocked with a large fist on the heavy door. The sound of the fist on metal echoed loudly and intimidatingly down the surrounding corridors, and Will vaguely realised that they were deep underground. That couldn't be good. In a black, intimidating castle like Morgarath's, Will thought that only bad things such as prison cells were likely to be found underground. Given the fact that he had just been brought here from the prison cells, whatever was about to happen next was likely to be very, very bad.

Just as he was thinking that he really didn't want to find out what was behind that dark iron door, it opened with a grating scream of rusted hinges, making Will flinch violently. The fact that Morgarath was waiting in the revealed room with a sadistic grin on his face didn't help suppress his sudden desire to run in the other direction. Before Will could so much as attempt to escape from his guard and flee, the man wrenched on his shoulder and pulled him into the room, closer to Morgarath.

The iron door was shut behind him with a crash, the other two guards not following them into the room, and Will flinched again. Morgarath smirked at Will, his expression letting the young boy know that, not only had he seen his fear, but that he relished it.

As the Lord of Night and Rain slowly approached him, Will couldn't help but notice how uncomfortably warm the room was, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Morgarath to search for the source of the heat. The tall man stopped barely a foot from Will and the man who still had yet to release his grip on his shoulder, and he looked the apprentice up and down. Dazedly, Will realized that he must be looking at the various cuts and bruises that undoubtedly littered his body from his previous meeting with the man.

"What's your name, boy?" Morgarath's voice was merciless, taunting, and Will watched, silently terrified, as he pulled on the chain mail backed gloves once more. The man wasn't going to hit him again, was he? Will still ached from the last beating, and from the weight that seemed to be crushing his skull and clouding his thinking, he was most likely still concussed.

Morgarath flexed his fist in the chain mail gloves, and Will foggily realized that he had yet to answer the man's question. "I'm Will," he said, seeing no point in lying. It couldn't do him any harm to tell Morgarath that; Will was a rather unremarkable name, after all. Fighting Morgarath over something as small as a name would not only be pointless and stupid, but would also probably hurt.

Taking a risk in glancing away from Morgarath, Will took in his surroundings for the first time. All of a sudden, the blood drained from his face and Will began to tremble as he realized exactly where he was, and exactly why he was here. Despite never having seen a similar room, Will wasn't stupid, and was most definitely able to recognise a torture chamber when he saw one. Alongside one wall was a large fireplace, reminiscent of the blacksmith's forge back in Redmont, and complete with the random, indistinguishable bits of metal poking out of the flames. This was the source of the heat he felt. There were shackles and chains lining the walls, and various contraptions set up on tables and hooks that Will could only guess the uses of, and he silently wished that his imagination wasn't quite so vivid.

Morgarath wanted information, and was going to torture him to get it, but Will realized instantly the flaw in his captor's plan. Will didn't have any information to give, he was barely into his second year of apprenticeship, and when Morgarath realized this, he would have no more reason to keep him alive. He wouldn't be ransomed, there was no one to ransom him to; he knew that the King would never pay to keep him alive, and he had no family or friends who would be able to pay the ransom. With this newfound realization in mind, Will looked up and took a deep, steadying breath. If he was going to die here, he was damn sure that he wasn't going to go quietly.

Morgarath saw the instant that the young apprentice realized exactly where he was. He had seen the fear in every line of the boy's body and then, unexpectedly, the fear had vanished. Before Morgarath had time to understand the sudden change, the boy, Will he had said his name was, had looked him in the eye, fists clenched in defiance and he threw himself at Morgarath. The guard restraining the boy hadn't expected the sudden move, and had been unable to keep hold of the boy.

The Lord of Night and Rain stood frozen in shock as the boy tackled him to the stone dungeon floor and grabbed the dagger out of his belt. Before Morgarath had time to respond to the dangerous new position he had suddenly found himself in, the blade glinting dangerously above him as the seemingly fearless apprentice raised it, two handed, above his head, preparing to deliver a killing blow. Morgarath reached up, planning to grab the boy by his throat, but before he could, the boy's slight weight was pulled off him as he was grabbed from behind by the guard.

Morgarath got to his feet slowly and brushed off his clothes much more calmly than he really felt after his rather close brush with death, and he watched as his guard tore the dagger from the apprentice's hands and threw the young boy bodily across the room. There was a soft thump as the boy impacted a metal chair that was bolted to the stone floor, and he slid to the ground with a cry of pain.

Will whimpered and desperately clutched at his middle as he lay panting and crying on the ground. His stomach had caught the arm of the metal chair, and for a panicked moment, Will had been terrified that something really important had been broken, as he had been unable to breathe. Thankfully, he had felt the pressure give way just as he had started seeing white spots, and he was suddenly, blessedly, able to full his lungs. Once his panic over not being able to breathe had lessened, he had been overwhelmed again by fear and despair. He had been so close! He had had the knife in his hands and Morgarath had been beneath him, helpless. Now the moment was gone, and it was doubtful that Will would ever get such a chance again. He couldn't help but let out a long train of swear words in between tears as the guard grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

"Bring him here, it's time to teach the brat a very valuable lesson. It appears that he is long overdue for it." Morgarath stood at a long metal table near the large fire, and was unbuckling the leather straps attached to its surface. The guard picked up the apprentice, and easily brushed aside the boy's panicked struggles as he held him down against the table and Morgarath tightened the straps across his chest and limbs, pinning Will in place.

Will's head pounded as he tried desperately to free himself, but the straps were too tight for him to do more than wiggle his fingers and toes and to turn his head to the side. One particularly thick leather strap bound him to the table across his neck, and Will was forced to stop his struggling and simply breathe, else he risked choking himself. Unfortunately, the angle he was left lying at allowed him a perfect view as Morgarath pulled a rather large brand from a shelf on the wall and placed it into the red hot coals of the fire. Morgarath laughed, the sound chilling, and it echoed around the chamber as he heard Will's breath hitch with fright.

After what seemed like eternity, Morgarath pulled the brand from the coals and inspected the glowing tip to make sure that it was ready. He nodded to the waiting guard and the man pulled out a knife and cut off Will's shirt. "Hold still now, Ranger. This is going to hurt, but I'm afraid that it's rather the point. You see, this brand is my symbol, my mark, and it means that now, you belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with you."

Will heard the words as if from underwater, and he was unable to stop himself from both shaking with terror and watching with wide eyes as the brand got closer and closer to the skin directly above his heart. Will gave a bloodcurdling scream as Morgarath pressed the glowing metal into his skin, and he could smell the skin burning. There was nothing he could do to escape the pain, and it seemed an eternity until a horrible sizzling sound filled the air as Morgarath withdrew the brand and threw it into a bucket of water. Will didn't notice as the man lent over the sobbing apprentice to inspect his handiwork. Will barely even realized that the hot metal had left his skin as his flesh still burnt and sizzled, oozing fluid.

The brand was directly over his heart and the size of a large fist. The brand was well formed, and Morgarath gave a grim grunt of satisfaction as he distinctly made out the single blackbird above two crossed swords that was his personal crest. Sometimes, if the brand wasn't put on properly or the victim wasn't properly secured, the branding iron moved half way through the process, resulting in a smudged lump of burned flesh. This ended up being either a large mess, or what was referred to as a 'shadow effect', where there was two brands in roughly the same spot with one looking like a 'shadow' of the other. This was one of Morgarath's better brandings, and he felt rather smug as picked up the boy's bronze amulet and rotated the chain around the apprentice's neck until the small Oakleaf sat directly in the centre of the boy's chest, next to the mangled flesh that was the brand.

Morgarath stepped away from the whimpering apprentice and turned to the guard. "Leave him tied to the table till morning. I'll be back for him then." Morgarath didn't even wait to hear the man's obedient "yes, Milord", he had already walked out through the iron door, whistling to himself.

Lady Pauline was at her desk and reading various reports from throughout Araluen. The Rangers may be the kingdom's official intelligence force but the couriers were the unofficial one. Lady Pauline's network of agents was one of the best, and there was very little that she didn't know. When she ever found something really interesting, she would pass it on to Halt, but more often than not, he would already know. It had become a kind of game to them. She would try to find out something before Halt, and he would bribe (or threaten, or trick) her agents into giving her false information or telling him what she knew.

The first time that Halt had tried to bribe one of her people, the girl had broken down crying in front of Pauline, thinking that she had betrayed her. Pauline had quickly managed to calm the girl down and had let her people know what was going on (after, of course, giving Halt a piece of her mind for scaring one of her people so much). After becoming aware of the game between the two, Pauline's people had caught on quite quickly, and they often rather enjoyed the friendly challenge, despite the Ranger's rather brisk manner. Quite often, the information they passed onto Halt was either false or had been previously inspected by Pauline.

Pauline knew Halt was aware of her messing with the bribes, but he just managed to think up new ways to try to out-smart her. Baron Arald had asked her about the games once and while she had just shrugged and said that it kept her on her toes, the Baron had raised his eyebrow, obviously thinking that there was more to it than that.

Lady Pauline had just smiled, refusing to say any more. Baron Arald could be stubborn and if he had, somehow, got it into his head that there was something more going on between Halt and Pauline, well, there was nothing that she could do to change his mind.

Halt had left the day before to go chasing after the Skandians that had murdered his apprentice. Pauline had known that it would happen, she had seen Halt getting more and more frustrated every day, but she wished that Halt had thought to say goodbye.

Sighing, Lady Pauline set the reports aside and began searching for some coffee grounds, becoming slightly annoyed when she couldn't find any. She wasn't nearly as addicted to coffee as Halt was, but she found that she drunk rather more of the brew when he wasn't around.

There was a knock on the door and Pauline sat back at her desk and called for the person to come in. She would just have to wait until later to search for more coffee.

Will felt hands on his shoulder, roughly shaking him awake, and a harsh voice seemed to trample through the inside of his skull, but he was unable to make out any words. He tried absently to shake the hands off, before he realized that he couldn't move and he was puzzled for a moment before the memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. He gasped, flinching away from the touch on his shoulder and agony once more filled his body as his eyes slowly focused in the dim light and he looked around the room, desperately trying to think of something, anything, other than the memory of the branding. It didn't take him long for Will to realise, from the fact that he could still smell lingering burnt flesh in the air and that he couldn't move, that he was still attached to the table.

He panicked, seeing the hands move over him again, unable to think of anything other than the pain from the branding, terrified that the hands were going to hurt him again, despite a small voice in the back of his head telling him to calm down, that the hands were empty. It took Will an embarrassingly long time to calm down long enough to realise that the hands were undoing the straps to the table, but before he could take advantage of this small freedom, he was lifted from the table and forced into a chair.

Will came back to himself enough to mutter a few well-chosen swear words as he was strapped instead to the metal chair. The same one, he noticed, that he had been thrown into when he was first brought to this chamber. He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious, but the brand was scabbed over slightly now, but still oozing blood and a clear, sticky fluid. Will had to suppress the urge to vomit as he got his first proper look at the disgusting mark on his chest. The skin was blackened and uneven, and some was even peeling off. He couldn't look at it, and tore his eyes from the sight before he could make out what Morgarath had branded into him. He didn't want to know what the bastard had done to him; he wanted to be back, with Halt, at their little cabin in the Redmont forest.

Choking back sobs of despair, Will caught sight of the approaching Lord of Night and Rain, pulling on his ever present chain mail backed gloves. The scene abruptly shifted his mood from despair to panic, and a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Halt was demanding the he focus, that now was not the time for panic or despair, that he needed to think!

Will, not one to ever ignore something Halt had to say, voice in his head or not, took a deep breath, slowly pushing aside the panic. It took him a while, but eventually he was able to think and look at the waiting man without being overwhelmed.

"Back with us?" Morgarath sneered. "About bloody time."

Seeing the vicious scowl on the man's face, and the guard waiting in the background, Will felt the panic rising again, but the Halt-voice in his head whispered reassurances and helped him keep his focus. Will gathered his courage and lifted his head, looking Morgarath in the eyes, trying to show the man that he wasn't afraid, that he wasn't broken.

Morgarath, angered by the spark of defiance in the boy's eyes, lunged forward and grabbed Will by the hair. He jerked his head back and leaned in close, until Will could feel the man's foul breath on his cheek.

"Ranger Will," the man angrily spat the title out, as if it was a vile insult, and Will felt spittle land on the side of his face. "We're going to have a nice long chat, you and I, and you're going to tell me exactly what I want to know, understand?" The hand in Will's hair twisted, and it felt as if his scalp was going to be separated from his skull, but still Will looked defiantly into Morgarath's cold, black eyes, refusing to give in.

The man snarled, and before Will knew what was happening, the man punched him in the gut with his free hand. Will, strapped to the metal chair, was unable to do anything but gasp in pain as Morgarath struck him twice more. "Understand, boy?" he said again, voice low and deadly, the threat clear.

Will couldn't help it; he looked in those cold eyes once more before glancing away, looking down at the ground. "Yes, sir" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

A/N

Look, SHE LIVES! *Evil cackling*

I'm back everyone, but I don't know how regular updates will be. RL sucks ass. Past-me chose to study Biochemistry and Pharmacology in university, and current-me wants to shoot past-me in the head for choosing subjects so bloody hard. Interesting, but hard.

It's been a while, hasn't it...? *looks at the last updated date and cringes* I'll try and update when I can, but end of semester exams are coming up, and I need to do well, but they're freaking me out, so I'm procrastinating by writing this story.

As this version of The Black Castle and the Dark Version start to diverge quite seriously from here, I think I'll have to focus on this one and write the dark one once I've finished this. Sorry, but otherwise I mix them up, and I have to keep rereading what I've written in the past, and it slows me down. This story is mostly all planned out, all ready to go, so I shouldn't get writer's block, I just have no time to write. *cries* Dark version-Will isn't co-operating with me, and keeps doing stupid things. I have the next 5 or so chapters of that planned, but he keeps not doing what I want him to, which is killing my plot, so he's getting a time-out until I can focus on that story and get everything sorted.

As I know this is an absolutely horrible way to end a chapter and disappear for another couple of months, I'll try and update soon, but no promises. Thank you to everyone that reviews, they really help, and always get me inspired. They nearly always get me writing, but usually I don't get enough done to publish a whole chapter, or I only work on planning. (Or start a whole new story, but oops...)

I read 'The Royal Ranger' when it came out last year, and I can't believe the series is over. What a way to end. The start just made me want to cry, but I found a bit of the plot to be quite predictable... Anyone else got any thoughts to share?

Hopefully I'll see you all again soon!

Ranger Ali