Chapter 13: Halt's Apprentice

Morgarath grinned at Will's compliance, the gesture showing his teeth. This would be easier than he had anticipated. He had been expecting to have to beat the boy some more to get him to give in, but it seemed that most of the boy's courage was for show. He had expected more from the Ranger Corps than this weak, snivelling boy, but he supposed the boy was still young, and easily broken.

"How old are you, boy?" he demanded, feeing a burst of smug satisfaction when the apprentice glanced at his gloves before answering. It was good that the young Ranger feared him.

"16, sir. I'm 16."

The self-titled Lord raised his eyebrows. He'd thought the apprentice was younger, given his small size and how easily the boy had been broken. "How long have you been a Ranger?"

"Apprentice. I'm not a full Ranger. I've only been training for a year and a half." Will opened his mouth to say more, but before he could, Morgarath punched him in the stomach, making him groan and wheeze.

"Don't smart mouth me, Ranger," Morgarath snapped, adding sarcastic bite to the title 'ranger'. "I am completely aware that such a pitiful whelp like you is only an apprentice, and you will show me respect, understood?"

Will frantically nodded, unable to say anything around his desperate gasps for air. The Halt-voice in his head berated him for being stupid, told him that he always knew his mouth would get him in trouble. Watch what you're saying, it said, don't antagonize him.

"Who are you apprenticed to?" Morgarath suddenly asked, and Will couldn't help the sudden panic that bubbled up into a big lump in his throat. He knew he couldn't tell the truth, but he had a horrible feeling that the man would be able to tell if he was lying. His punishment for lying couldn't be worse than Morgarath finding out that Will was Halt's apprentice, could it? Morgarath hated Halt more than any other Ranger, perhaps more than all the other Rangers combined. There was no way he could let the other man find out the truth. "Well?" the man demanded, leaning in threateningly close.

Gilan, the Halt-voice suddenly insisted. Tell him you're apprenticed to Gilan. "Gilan," he said aloud, and hoped the man brought it. There was a strange gleam in Morgarath's eye though, and Will realised that he knew the apprentice was lying. "Ranger Gilan," he said again, louder, desperate for the man to accept it.

He didn't even have time to flinch before he was backhanded across the face, and his head bounced painfully off the metal back of the chair. "Tell the truth, Ranger!" Morgarath spat demandingly in his ear, before he struck Will again.

Will, his head ringing, the pain drowning out the Halt-voice, pleaded desperately with his interrogator, insisting that he was telling the truth, but the man was having none of it. Without any warning, a large, gloved fist closed around his throat, and his pleas and breath were abruptly cut off. Morgarath held on until Will thought he was going to pass out, white spots growing into a hazy film before his eyes, but he was released before he could fall into unconsciousness. Will wasn't sure whether this was a mercy or a cruelty.

"Tell the truth, boy!" Morgarath insisted again, and Will despite knowing that the truth was possibly deadly, he had no other options. He couldn't come up with a good enough lie; he hadn't been at the gathering ground long enough his first year to know enough about another Ranger to realistically make it seem as if he was their apprentice instead.

"Halt," he gasped out, cringing away from the man, terrified that Morgarath was going to strangle him again. What if the next time he didn't let go before the young apprentice died? "I'm apprenticed to Ranger Halt."

The Lord of Night and Rain went completely still, and all the blood seemed to drain from the man's face as he stood ramrod straight. "What?" he hissed, voice almost inaudible, and Will closed his eyes, knowing instinctively what was going to happen next, but unable to do anything to stop it.

A single tear managed to escape his closely clenched eyelids and run down his cheek as the Halt-voice whispered in his ear; I'm sorry, Will. So sorry, it said, and Will knew the Halt-voice was crying too.

Morgarath roared, a pure, animalistic sound, and even the guard flinched away from the man as he threw himself at the apprentice, attacking every part of the bound boy he could reach. Will screamed and the scab on new brand tore open, blood, pus, and other fluid running down his chest, but Morgarath didn't stop. He clawed and spat at the boy, punching every bit of him that he could reach, and when that wasn't enough, to satisfy his anger, he took up a long iron instrument from a nearby table, using that to strike the boy instead. Morgarath didn't stop until his voice was horse from his howls of rage and the boy, Halt's apprentice, lay still and silent, in a bloody mess on the chair.

It was just past noon when Horace and Halt, the gruff man for once without his distinctive Ranger garb, rode into the port of Cannon located along the eastern coast of Caraway Fief. Cannon was a small fishing village, but despite its relatively small size, it did a roaring trade in the transport of goods from Araluen to La Rivage, in Gallica. A lot of this trade, Halt knew, wasn't legal. Cannon wasn't along any major road, and it wasn't very well located to the bigger towns and villages for many legal traders, but it did well enough and was (for the most part) ignored by the authorities.

"Can we stop for lunch, Halt?" Horace had finally stopped gawking at the small seaside town and, having caught site of the unmistakable sign of an inn, was immediately captivated at the thought of having something hot to eat. Halt had despised having to stop for anything other than sleep (and even then he only allowed it when absolutely necessary in order to stop them collapsing in the saddle) and the pair had eaten most of their meals cold while moving. Horace had been complaining most of the way to Cannon, and Halt had almost given in to the temptation to leave the young warrior on the side of the road.

"We will go back to the inn later, Horace. I want to buy us passage on a ship first," Halt said abruptly, not even bothering to look at the young man, already well used to his love of food,and instead his roving gaze analysed the port and ships on the distant side of the small town.

Horace nodded, realizing from the grim man's tone that Halt was in no mood to argue and dismounted, holding tightly to Kicker's reins as he followed the similarly dismounted Ranger around the docks. He gazed in awe at the different kinds of people pressing in all around him. There were fishermen and smugglers and traders and plenty of other people that Horace couldn't place. "Halt?" Horace said.

Halt paused and turned back to face the battleschool apprentice. He raised his eyebrow and sighed in anticipation of a question. "What, Horace?"

"I…" It took less than a second for a pickpocket to pretend to stumble into Halt and for the man to lift his purse. As the pickpocket ran down an alleyway, Halt held up a hand to silence Horace and snapped at him to wait with the horses. Horace watched, stunned, as Halt turned and vanished into the shadows, undoubtedly following the unlucky pickpocket. Horace wouldn't want to be the man when the angry Halt caught up to him. In the entirety of the village, Horace didn't think there was a single man (or woman) that was a worse person to pickpocket than Ranger Halt.

Halt stalked the thief through the town's side streets and alleyways until the man stopped, stupidly thinking that he had lost his pursuer. As the thief pulled out Halt's purse to inspect his prize, the grizzled Ranger moved through the alleyway's shadows until he was standing directly behind the thief, saxe in hand. He was angry. Very angry. This arrogant, little man was standing between himself and the Skandians that had murdered his apprentice. His eyes glinted dangerously as Halt stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the thief by the jerkin, shoving him violently against the wall. Gold and silver coins spilled onto the ground as the thief felt the unmistakable prickling of the razor sharp tip of Halt's saxe pressed against his throat.

"You chose the wrong man to try and rob, scumbag. Out of all of the people at the docks, I was not only one of the only people that would follow you to take back my purse, but also the only man who would have absolutely no qualms about cutting your throat in the process."

Halt's voice was dangerously low and the thief was slowly realizing exactly how far the tables had turned. If Halt chose to cut his throat, there was nothing he would be able to do to stop him. Halt had never been so close to his breaking point before. Usually, he lived by a very strict moral code (although perhaps it included things a bit more immoral than other people), but never before had Halt felt that he would murder a man in cold blood, especially over a purse. Now, he was dangerously willing, embittered by the loss of his apprentice and enraged by the people that kept standing in the way of his revenge.

The thief, despite seeing that the odds had tipped so far against him as to be near impossible, pushed his luck even further by trying a lie. "Please sir, my wife's sick and I needed the money to pay for a healer. Please don't kill me!" he begged.

Halt snorted in disgust and stared at the snivelling man in front of him, before spitting on the ground. He very much doubted that the thief even had a wife, let alone that she was sick. Grinning maliciously, Halt told the thief as much, pressing the saxe harder into the man's throat, drawing a small bead of blood.

"Ok, ok, I lied! Just please don't kill me! I'll do anything sir! Please!" The man was trembling and his voice was several octaves higher than normal as he shook under Halt's gaze and saxe.

Halt tightened his grip on the man, and was about to throw him to the ground and give him a well-deserved kick, before he got an idea. "You know what? I think this might just be your lucky day," Halt sneered, a sarcastic grin split across his face. The sight was terrifying. "I'm willing to spare your worthless life, providing you can give me some information."

The thief began sobbing as Halt drew the saxe, ever-so-slightly away from the man's neck, and he collapsed against the wall behind him, as far as he could while still held by Halt's iron grip. "Thank you, sir! You're most kind. I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Halt nodded, as if coming to a decision, before giving the man a hard look and sheathing his saxe. He released the man with a hard shove into the wall behind him, before stepping away from the man. The thief slipped to the ground, his quivering legs no longer able to support him.

"My friend and I are looking for a ship to take us and three horses to Gallica, as soon as possible. I need a ship that will take us there, fast, no questions asked. I don't care whether the ship's legal or not, I just want to be out of Araluen by tomorrow at the latest. It's none of your business why." Halt was glaring at the man and the thief seemed to melt under his unwavering gaze, freezing any questions or thoughts of defiance right in their tracks.

"Now's a bad time to cross, sir," the man started, refusing to look the Ranger in his eyes. "There have been some pretty serious storms this season and there aren't many captains willing to risk their cargo trying to cross now, let alone take passengers with horses." Halt narrowed his gaze and his hand moved to rest on the hilt of his saxe, the threat clear. The thief hurriedly resumed talking, afraid that the intimidating man would draw the blade again. "There is a man, a friend of mine, Kevin, who's going to try the crossing. He runs a freighter and has a shipment of hides for La Rivage. He normally wouldn't attempt a crossing in weather like this, but he has a client who's paying him extra to carry some herbs across for him and he needs to leave today or the'll spoil. He's leaving within the hour but he should have room for you and the horses, if you pay him well enough." The thief spoke in a rush, trying to get everything out as fast as possible in order to hasten his escape from the man.

Halt thought quickly about what the thief had told him. Undoubtedly, the herbs that the captain, Kevin, was carrying were illegal. At the moment though, smugglers weren't his priority. The thief had said that the ship was leaving within the hour so Halt knew that he had to deicide quickly. If what the man had said about there being storms in the Narrow Sea then it was likely that the freighter would be the only one willing to travel. If he missed this chance, they might not be able to leave Araluen for another week or so while they waied fir the weather to clear, and Halt couldn't afford to wait that long. Abruptly, he came to a decision.

"Alright," he snapped out at the man. "If what you have told me is true, I'll be out of here in the hour and you will never have to see me again. If, however, I find that you have lied to me, I will track you down and cut your throat. Understand?" The thief quickly nodded and insisted that he was telling the truth.

Halt studied the man, deadly serious, before speaking again. "Right then. I think there is just one more thing you can do for me and then I'll be gone." The thief nodded, apparently too afraid of the Ranger's next demand to use his voice. "Pick up my coins," Halt snapped, and there was an unidentifiable glint in his eye.

Quickly, as if there was never anything as important in his life (and there probably wasn't, Halt mused) the thief moved to pick up the spilled silver and gold and to put it back into Halt's purse. He had dropped them when Halt had pinned him against the wall and he had been hoping in the back of his mind that the shorter man had forgotten about it in his urgency to get a ship. He realized now that it had been an unfounded hope; the man was as sharp as the saxe he carried.

Halt watched, smirking, as the thief handed back his purse and he pretended not to notice that a couple of the coins had found their way into some of the thief's pockets. He really didn't have time to fight over a couple measly coins. Without a second glance, turned and walked into the shadows, disappearing from view. As he walked, Halt felt under his cloak for the four purses he had lifted from the pickpocket as he had pinned the man against the wall. Obviously, the man was an amateur if he kept all of the day's spoils on his person. There was a howl of rage and despair from behind him and Halt smirked once more as the pickpocket realized that he had been beaten at his own game.

Horace was wandering around the docks looking at the various ships when Halt seemed to materialize out of thin air to stand beside him, causing him to startle. "You know Halt; it's kind of creepy when you sneak up behind people like that. Normal people can't turn themselves invisible." Halt just grunted and started walking towards a freighter full of stinking hides. Horace wrinkled his nose at the smell but continued to follow Halt, trusting that the old Ranger knew best.

The Ranger's next statement caused Horace to rethink this belief however. "We're going to eat on the boat."

"What! Why?" Horace was standing rooted to the spot, horrified at missing out on his last chance to have a hot meal before having to cross the Narrow Sea and living off cold travel rations for the four days the crossing would take.

Before Horace could blink, Halt spun around and grabbed him by the front of his jerkin, his eyes showing his anger. "Don't you think that I was looking forward to a hot meal just as much as you were, Horace? Some things are more important than your stomach. If we don't leave now, then we will have to wait weeks for the storms to clear. We don't have weeks Horace. I've abandoned my post in Redmont and people could be searching for me as we speak." Halt's voice was bitter and he refused to look Horace in the eyes, knowing that he had overreacted to the young man's complaints, but unwilling to apologize.

"Besides," Halt added, "The longer it takes for us to get to Skandia, the harder it will be to track down the Skandians that murdered Will. The sooner we finish there, the sooner we can get back to Araluen and the more likely it will be that I will still have a job." The last part was said so quietly that Horace almost missed it.

Halt let go and turned away to go back to the ship but Horace stopped him, frowning. "I thought you were a Ranger? Why would they kick you out? It's not your fault Will was killed."

Halt stopped and looked at the trusting boy in front of him. "I'm not meant to be here Horace. I asked permission to go after Erak and his crew when Will was first murdered, but I was refused. I quit the Corps so I could go to Skandia."

Horace's eyes widened and his whole body showed his shock at hearing Halt's admission. That was why Halt wasn't wearing his Ranger cloak! Before he could say anything more though, Halt had boarded the freighter and he was talking to the captain. Horace saw the flash of gold changing hands and Horace began to realize that there was nothing that Halt wouldn't have done for Will.

A/N

Look, another update! :D Surprise. Bet you all secretly never expected to hear from me again, right? Or not for another year at least... But sorry, this chapter probably leaves you in even more suspense than the last. It's not really intentional, but Morgarath is an evil bastard, and he kind of got away from me with his rage for Halt. I had intended this whole chapter to be the interrogation, but Morgarath was a raging evil person, and Halt and Horace popped up out of nowhere. I'm aware Halt's a bit out of character, but he's grieving, so cut him (and me) some slack, please. In the book he was willing to slander his King and get exiled for life (also risking execution), and Will was only missing, not supposed dead like in my story. I don't think this is too unreasonable from that perspective, do you?

I'd forgotten how amazing it was watching the little bars with views go up. It's obviously been far too long since I've done some serious writing. Thank you for reading, it really does make my day. And a special thank you to everyone who reviews.

Ranger Ali