Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, made possible by the Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. I have only borrowed his creation and I make no money. For this story I have used several other Rangers from the books, though I've also added my own. I do this only in the hope to entertain…

Author's Note: No harm shall come to the characters that can't be fixed with enough coffee…

Chapter 8

Waiting for Gilan to return Will found it somewhat hard to fight the boredom. His mandola was safe in its case, something he now always carried with him, but it was of no use to him at the moment. He couldn't risk the noise.

Instead with something of a guilty shrug he retrieved Gilan's sketchbook again and started idly scratching out the words to a new parody song, based on Jenny on the Mountain. He doubted Gilan would be mad, and he could always try to get him a new one. It was quite simple really, and one could untie the string that held the papers in place, and insert fresh papers. Something that was not exactly cheap, but he would easily be able to get his hands on.

He and Harcourt had eaten a meal of jerky and dried fruit with some leftover bread, washed down with water from their canteens. Not a very inspiring meal, but at least he had a full belly. Once Gilan was back he'd either have the same, or they'd retreat far enough back they could risk a fire.

He himself would love a hot meal, and he knew Gilan would as well.

"I'm just going to step behind the trees for a moment," Harcourt stated as he stood, and Will nodded absently. It was common practice, and plenty of them to choose from. He was trying to make a rhyme for 'banging her pots and pans,' and it seemed somewhat difficult. He was starting to contemplate if he should use something else instead, though he rather liked the line. He thought it was quite clever, and funny.

He had moved on to another line, and grinned as he jotted it down, 'she swung her ladle,' the problem once more being to find a rhyme. At the moment, the best he could do was making it, 'swung her ladle'o,' which was an old tested and approved method of producing an easier rhyme, even if Halt constantly complained it did not make sense as there was no such things. Happily proclaiming they weren't Ranger'os, and certainly did not ride horsey'os…

He did not seem to appreciate poetic license very much, though Will thought it was a most handy thing. It was what allowed you to wrangle a more difficult sentence into one that was easier to handle.

Gilan never much seemed to care one way or another, he never complained about singing being 'screeching noises' like Halt did. Will had heard him sing on occasion, and he was quite good. He had a nice, soft pleasant voice and did not try to over reach his skill.

He had just crossed out one word to try again when there was a rustle. Looking up as he expected it to be Harcourt coming back, he leapt to his feet as he realized it was not. Six men were coming into the small clearing, having moved silently and come from downwind their horses had not noticed them.

Now seeing them, both Tug and Blaze whinnied uneasily. Will, not knowing what they wanted tried to appear calm, giving himself time to assess the situation he slipped the stylus into its place, putting the notebook down into his pack. "Hello there, can I help you?"

"You know what, I think you can," one of them leered in such a way that it gave Will a really uneasy feeling. His hand dropped to his saxe, though he knew they had the advantage.

In an instant, they all had swords drawn, and though he knew it would have made no difference against six, he wished he had drawn his own knife earlier.

"How about you take them things, and drop them very slowly, and very carefully?" the man continued.

"Why would I want to do that?" oh, he knew why, but Will was stalling for time. He wanted to delay events, if Harcourt had the time to return, and got wind of what was going on before he revealed himself, then they could still come out on top.

"Let's just say you feel really compelled to do so," the man simply grinned, the same leering that set Will's teeth on edge.

A movement on the edge of his vision caused him to look that way, and sigh helplessly. Two more had arrived, with crossbows rather than swords. With the weapons trained on him, there was nothing he could do. He could not act fast enough to avoid the bolts, so at the moment, he could only do what they said and hope he could stall.

So Will complied, slowly easing his knives, one at a time, out of the double scabbard and dropping them onto the ground.

A minute later he was being led through the woods, their ponies following behind them as they were led to the enemy's camp.

Now, the main thing on Will's mind was the question whether Gilan still had the camp under surveillance, or if he had started on his way back. The speed of his rescue would depend on how far away the tall Ranger was.

As he were brought into the camp Will found himself face to face with the man he would have to assume was their leader. He was big, fat and muscular both. Not as tall as Gilan, but certainly taller than Will, and very large in size.

While Baron Arald in Redmont had had trouble keeping his waistline in check for as long as Will could remember, he had never really appeared to be that fat. He had always had his sword ready by his desk, usually next to a bowl of sweets, and he had always moved easily. There was muscle, and he moved with a warriors confidence and ease. Much the same as Will saw Gilan do, though Gilan looked like a strong wind might blow him over.

Having taken a leaf from Crowley's book, Will liked to tease him about that. There was however never any doubt, as gangly as he was, that he could fight.

This man, Will was not certain of, he carried a sword, and a heavy dagger, but not with the same ease Gilan did. The hilt was inlaid with gem stones, something Gilan said was only unnecessary weight. His sword might not look like much, but it was a good strong sword with an excellent balance.

The sword this man carried looked clumsy, though Will was perhaps not the best judge of it, that was the way it seemed to him.

"Well, well, looks like Morrison was right when he said we were being followed," he grinned. "Though you don't look like you could cause too much trouble. Who are you?"

Will remained quiet, even after the backhanded blow he was given.

"You're a Ranger, I know those stupid knives when I see them," he indicated the saxe and the throwing knife that one of his men had handed to him.

Still Will did not say anything, they might know he was a Ranger, but there was no reason for him to confirm it.

Again he was struck, but bit his tongue.

"There were three horses, where are the other two?" the man demanded.

"I'm alone," not that he thought they'd believe him, but it was worth a try.

"Not likely, one Ranger and three horses?" he snorted.

"My horse gets lonely," Will shrugged, then quieted as he was given a hard punch to the gut. Doubled over and coughing there was not much he could say. He had to admit he was worried, even if he still trusted Gilan to save him. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Gilan would not leave him to this fate.

The only worry was realizing how many they were, in plain sight, he could see a dozen, and it seemed like there would be more of them. That meant Gilan and Harcourt would be badly outnumbered. As good as Gilan was, that could be a problem. Gilan was good, one of their best but he was not Halt, and Will wasn't certain if even Halt could handle that many that quickly. Yet he never doubted that Gilan would not do all he could to save him.

He did not see at first, how one of the men fell, he only heard the surprised cries from the ones standing near him.

Looking up, Will saw the crumbled form on the ground, and could already hear the scream as the next one fell. Several yards away from the first victim.

Another stared in shock at the arrow that had suddenly appeared in his shoulder, then he too screamed in surprise and shock.

Will could not quite hold back a grin. He recognized that fletching, he would have known it anywhere as well as he knew Halt's and his own. Gilan was there, he was there and he was going to save him. Gilan had left his bow in their small camp, and though Will hadn't paid attention at the time, it would seem the bandits had sealed their own fate when they didn't bother to pick them up and bring them. Allowing Gilan to arm himself before he stalked them.

All around the camp the men were starting to panic as they were under attack from an unseen enemy.

No, not everyone he noticed, the leader, and a few of the others weren't panicked, they were scanning the area outside of the camp to see where the arrows had come from.

More men had come running into the clearing, and now many of them under the direction of their leader, screaming abuse at them, made for the woods to flush the enemy out.

Will wondered if Gilan would retreat, he did not think so, but he almost hoped he would. If not, he was sure they would get him through sheer strength of number.

He could only watch helplessly as the chase continued, the men crashing through the woods while two more of them fell. One lay screaming until his friends helped him, the other lay still.

For a moment Will dared to hope, it was obvious from the arrow that Gilan had moved, for he was certain it was Gilan. He did not think Harcourt could fire that many arrows that fast, without revealing his own position. Gilan, he thought might be able to do it. He was not as good a shot as Halt, but he was the master at remaining unseen.

He desperately hoped they would not be able to catch him, even if Gilan wasn't able to free him at the moment, he had greatly reduced their numbers. That would make it easier to escape.

With all their attention being on the unseen enemy, he had been working on his bonds, and he had his hands almost free. All he needed was a few more minutes, then he would be free and able to help Gilan.

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…