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 9

As he nocked another arrow, releasing it in the same breath, Gilan knew it would only be a matter of time before he was spotted. If he stayed in one spot, they'd soon see where the arrows were coming from. Yet if he moved, they would see him much more easily than if he were standing still. Yet he had to move, he had been on his way back when he had seen them bringing Will with them. He had been so close, only a few yards separating them, and yet they had not seen him. He would have acted too, except he cold not alert Will, and he did not know where Harcourt was.

He would have preferred to wait longer and work with more stealth, but there had been no choice. Not after they started beating the younger Ranger. He could not let them hurt him, and they would hurt him, badly if it was what they needed to get the information.

Maybe Will was a full Ranger now, and had been for many years, one of their best.

Yet all Gilan seemed able to remember was how Halt had told him to look out for Will, to make sure nothing happened to him. Allowing him to be beaten for information was out of the question. He had failed Will in Gaelica, when he left them behind and they were captured. He had failed him then, and he would not do so again. If they wanted to do so, they would have to go through Gilan, and he would be delighted to let them try.

Darting through the underbrush with ease he nocked, drew and fired an arrow as he ran, not wasting time to look. He knew the shot was good, and he smiled bitterly as he heard the scream.

Will had told him about the stories they were told in the ward, something about a gnome named something like Cobblenose, he wasn't certain. He knew it was a gnome, and a mischievous one, but he had trouble remembering the name. Will had apparently grown up hearing stories like that, the children of the ward sitting in front of the fire with cookies and such treats while they were listening. That was something he had never really experienced. The closest he got was sitting by a camp fire, or in the courtyard, listening to the warriors and the knights of the Battleschool and the castle.

He had listened, awe struck, as they told of the bravery they had seen. His father had not had any time for stories, so Gilan had listened to the men instead. Then at Hackham Heath he had been met with the reality. In the tales the men told they were always brave, waving away even mortal wounds as just a scratch, and they fought on.

At Hackham Heath, they screamed, and they bled and they cried… It was nothing like what he had been told, it had been a horrible nightmare. After his father had been wounded he had told him to stay out of trouble and do what he was told. Yet he realized in retrospect David had never realized what might happen.

Gilan had been glad to avoid the infirmary tent after his first brief glimpse of it, and tried to make himself useful where he could. Then one of the sergeants ordered him to the front line, and he obeyed. He had been taught to obey since he could walk, of course he did at that time. The front line facing one of the last surges of the Wargals, and they were overwhelmed. It did not matter how well he thought, there were too many of the creatures and too few of the men standing against them.

When he was taken to the infirmary tent, the very place he had wished to avoid they had realized how young he was, but not who he was, and to be kind and dull the pain they had given him poppy juice. He did not recall much after that, just a nightmare that seemed never ending of screams and blood. He did not even realize when his father took him from there, only that later he was in his father's tent, and he still was in pain, but at least he was not caught in that nightmare of blood and pain and screaming men.

He'd lost all illusions of the glory of battle then, but not his desire to protect those whom relied on the King and his men to keep them safe. Will had seen much, and been through a great ordeal, but he had still retained some innocence, more than Gilan had, and he would be damned if he was the cause for him losing it. He was not going to go back to Halt and tell him he failed him again. That Will was tortured because Gilan could not keep him safe.

With renewed determination he darted through the trees, always ahead of his pursuers, his arrows bringing down their number one by one.

Will thought it was good to be tall, and he general was quite happy with it, but there were times when he would have given anything to be shorter. When he had to stoop for hours because the ceiling was too low, and when he failed to duck for a low beam or a doorway.

Now, once more, his height was his downfall.

Darting around a tree to gain a few yards he did not see the broken stump of a low branch in time. He tried to duck, but it was too late, and he collided with it, seeing stars as it struck just over his eye. The skin split and blood poured down his face.

Momentarily blinded his foot slipped off the rock he'd stepped on, his ankle turning under him and he crashed to the ground. Tucking in he used the momentum of his fall to roll and come up on his feet, but it was no use and he knew it was over. Shooting pain shot through his ankle as he stood, and his vision was obscured by the blood. Biting his lip he did the only thing he could. He shifted his weight on his good foot and sighted the arrows with one eye, firing two more arrows before they fell upon him. Feeling a grim satisfaction that at least he got the two, but then it was over as the bow was wrenched from his hands and he raised his arm to block the blow of a heavy club. A broken arm was better than a broken head, and even without his bow he did not plan on making it easy for them.

He drew the saxe, not much against swords and clubs, but enough to cause them just a little more grief.

Had there been just a few less of them, he might have managed, but now they had number on their side, and one got in a lucky blow with a club. Already dazed from the tree branch, it was simply too much and he crumbled to the ground. He felt himself sized and they took his knives from him, blows raining over him as the finally found an outlet for their anger and rage.

They gave him no chance to get to his feet as they grabbed him by the arms and dragged him into the camp, throwing him down on the ground in front of their leader.

"So, we got another one of you," he sneered. "You made a right nuisance of yourself."

"Happy to oblige," Gilan shrugged with forced cheer. It was all he could do not to groan, and his vision was blurry. Yet he saw Will, and Will looked terrified. If he could let him think there was hope still, they might get out of this yet. He tried to reach up a hand to wipe the blood from his eye, to give himself the time to take in the situation. Will was guarded only by one man, and while his hands were bound, Gilan saw the way he held his shoulders.

He was not free yet, but it would not be long if Gilan could just keep them from noticing what the younger Ranger was doing. They had all their attention on Gilan, leaving Will free to act if he was only able, and now their numbers were greatly reduced. So many of them were being helped, moaning and groaning into the camp.

"Who are you?" grabbing a fistful of his shirt, the man pulled him up. He was strong, Gilan noted, as he was pulled up, not quite able to get his feet under him.

"The Great Badger of Bumbleberry," he beamed, that was one of the stories Will had told him about. Apparently the children in the ward had really enjoyed that one.

The bandit however, apparently did not. Still holding him up by one hand, he closed the other into a fist and hit him hard in the ribs.

Feeling one or two of his ribs give, Gilan could not quite hold back the cry of pain.

"Leave him alone!" Will cried, and Gilan wished him silent, but he was lucky, the younger Ranger was ignored.

"Let's try that again, who are you?" the bandit demanded.

"Cobblenosskin…" Gilan grinned, that was the name…. That was the gnome Will had told him about.

This time there was no warning, the fist was driven into the same spot in his ribs once more, the weakened ones breaking and he could not breath, his vision swam, blackening as the world seemed nothing but a haze.

Once he was finally able to draw a shaky breath again and the world came into some semblance of focus he could barely raise his head.

"That wasn't very smart, let's try it again, who are you?" the bandit demanded. He was furious Gilan noted, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke.

"King's Ranger," they already knew he was a Ranger, so there was no point denying that, and it was how he would identify himself on mission. "I'm a King's Ranger…"

"Leave him alone!" the voice from the side caused Gilan to turn his head, frowning, Will was struggling against his bonds, and as Gilan watched he broke free. Knowing that the younger Ranger would not stand much of a chance on his own, and that he himself was severely impeded by his injuries Gilan still did what he could. He could not let Will face them on his own. Lifting his injured foot he stomped it down as hard as he could on the bandit's, not the most effective, but it was the only way he could keep his balance at the same time.

The man gave a cry of outrage, but he was stronger than Gilan in brute strenght, and there was nothing he could do in the end. As he watched, Will took a heavy blow to the side of his head and went down, concussed probably, he mused. He lay unconscious, and even if Gilan could break free, he would not be able to get him out of there on his own and he knew it. Merely breathing still had him seeing black spots as his broken ribs burned with pain and had the bandit leader not been holding him up, he did not think he would have been able to stand.

If they were rescued now, it would not be his doing and he knew it…

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…