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 10
Harcourt had been concealed near the edge of the camp when Gilan advanced on them, and he had watched in astonishment at the level of damage the Ranger had brought down on them. He had not thought anyone could do so much damage so quickly. His own mentor had been a good Ranger, that he knew. He had been one of the few left when Morgarath tried to disband the corps, even if Egon did not talk about it much. He had admitted that he had not handed the situation the best, and not wanted to say more than that. Having met Halt, Harcourt had always assumed it was due to the more forceful Ranger's nature than anything else. Egon was rather mild mannered, a very good man whom Harcourt had been proud to train under.
Yet he was aware he was held in low regard compared to others, Halt, Will and Gilan especially. The mere fact that Halt had trained them seemed to mean they were seen as better than he and Egon, and that had always galled him. After all, they were supposed to be equal in the corps, but they never were. Not compared to Halt and his wonder apprentices.
Not that Harcourt would wish them any ill, but he did have to admit he found it quite astonishing that the two were captured, and he was not. Were they then so amazing, if he was able to do better? No, they were not, they were not better than he was, they were merely fortunate to be held in so high regard due to their mentor.
It still meant that it fell on him to rescue them, and he did not know how to do that. After Gilan's attack their number was greatly reduced, which was to his advantage. Yet he did not think he would be able to take down a large enough number to get two injured Rangers away from there. It just did not seem possible.
He was very well aware of the fact that he was not the best Ranger in the corps, that he was mediocre to put it mildly. It had never bothered him overly much. Egon had never told him that he was more than so during his training. He had told him honestly that they desperately needed to replenish their numbers, and that he would do.
He would do, that was the best he had ever heard, he passed his tests, but never by more than the skin of his teeth.
He had already been a Ranger for some years when Halt took Gilan, and it had galled on him a little. At first when he saw the boy, he had thought there was no way he would do. He was too tall for his age, and Harcourt had thought at first he was many years older than the usual fifteen. Instead, it turned out he was still only fourteen, though close enough to be accepted it seemed. He was also far too thin, Egon had shaken his head about that, saying he was not strong enough to be a Ranger. Then there was the sword, it was not the weapon of a Ranger. Knights and pompous nobles wore sword, and the latter almost never knew how to use them.
He had heard them say he was good with the weapon, but he had never seen him use it so there was no way for him to really know. Normally he would have trusted what Crowley said, but he was Halt's closest friend and would be biased.
He certainly had given the boy preferential treatment, letting him keep the sword, and they were always praising how well he was doing. How he was the best unseen mover in the corps, and though the boy was polite enough, Harcourt couldn't say he had ever really taken a liking to him. It was just a little too annoying to see his own shortcomings so clearly in comparison.
What he had, was his integrity and sense of duty, and that was something that Egon had drilled into him. That was the most important thing he could have, Egon had told him time after time.
It wasn't much to use on armed bandits though, and now it was all he had to set them free. Gilan and Will, and the only one who had been praised more so quickly than Gilan, was Will.
As someone who had to struggle for everything he learned, ever test he took, he found it hard not to feel some resentment sometimes towards the two of them. He could not picture that either one of them knew what it was like to have to struggle, to really fight for everything.
He wouldn't let that affect his judgment though, if he did, Egon would have never forgiven him. They were all Rangers, and that meant that though he expected to fail, he would do his best to rescue them.
With that thought he crept forward, slowly, doing his best to remain unseen.
He did not get far, they were on guard now, he should have expected that he realized. He was seized and dragged into the camp.
He tried not to let his fear show, but he knew it probably did just the same.
"Caught another one, Thomas," one of them stated as they dragged him in front of their leader.
"So you did," Thomas mused, and Harcourt took in the scene around him. Will lay still and quiet to one side, Gilan was awake but seemed dazed. He was bleeding, his eyebrow was split and there was blood running from his mouth and nose, mixing with the dirt on his face. He did not seem fully able to hold himself upright, half crumbled on the ground where he had been left.
"Three horses, and now we have three Rangers," Thomas mused. "So I should think that was all of you, is it?"
"There are no more of us," Harcourt admitted. He saw how badly they had beaten Gilan, the way he was holding his ribs, and the way his breath came in pained gasps. He would do no one any good if he was in that condition himself.
"And you are?" Thomas prodded.
"Harcourt, King's Ranger," he admitted, lowering his eyes. He did not want to look at Gilan then, he could not meet his eyes.
"Here to rescue your friends, eh?" Thomas leered. "Not doing a very good job of it," he nodded his chin towards Gilan. "That one, he was something, not sure what you are…"
"He's better than me," Harcourt readily admitted. "I only wanted to try, I had to try…"
"And fail," Thomas agreed. "Who are they? What are their names?"
"Will Treaty, and Gilan," Harcourt managed through a lump in his throat.
"Be quiet!" Gilan barely managed to raise his voice, but Harcourt jerked, as if he had been struck.
"I'm sorry," he replied, swallowing. "I'm sorry…"
"Will Treaty," Thomas stroked his unwashed beard. "He's the one with Halt, isn't he?"
"He is…" Harcourt dropped his eyes once more. "But Halt is not here."
"And that one, who trained that one?" Thomas nodded to Gilan once more, and the man holding him gripped his throat, not allowing him to speak.
"He was trained by Halt to," Harcourt admitted. "He was his first apprentice, Will was his second."
"And you were not, I take it?"
"No," there was no use denying it, he had already fallen so short off the standard they knew it. "I was never good enough for that, I only try, I had to try…."
"Loyalty between Rangers," Thomas leered. "Which puts me in an interesting position, you see, I've got an old score to settle with Halt. Old, but not forgotten, I should think that killing one of his apprentices would put us just about even, don't you think that sounds fair?"
"No, please don't," Harcourt begged.
"Should I take you then?" Thomas spat the question with contempt, and Harcourt froze.
"I thought not, now, that one, he risked himself for his friend," he nodded to Gilan, and the man holding him, at a small nod kicked the fallen Ranger hard in the side. Gilan let a pained cry escape, and Harcourt felt his face burning with shame.
"I think I know a way to hurt Halt even more, so I'll tell you what we'll do," Thomas decided. "I'll let you go, and I'll let you take one of them, but only one, so you choose, which one does Halt want the most, and which one do you think he'd prefer to give up? It'll kill him that he could not have both, but he'll always have the other to remind him why, so which one will it be, which one will you bring back to Halt…"
Harcourt froze, unable to comprehend, his mouth was dry and he had to struggle to get any moisture back into his mouth. "Even if I did, you'd just turn it on me, wouldn't you?"
"No, because that would defeat the purpose," Thomas drew a knife that he idly played with. "So choose, which one will you bring back, and which one do you think Halt will prefer to be without? Chose now, I won't give you much longer."
Harcourt was numb, ice was racing down his spine and he thought he would vomit.
"I, I can't, I'm sorry," he turned his face towards Gilan, his fellow Ranger who had a hand over his mouth and a knife now to his throat. "I'm sorry, but you know I have to take Will. I can't save you, I'm not good enough, but Halt, he needs Will, it's him he'd choose, you know that. I have to take Will, it's what Halt would want me to do. Please, you know, you understand don't you? Everyone knows, everyone knows it's Will he cares for the most, I, I tried, but I have to do what I can, I have to take Will, it's what Halt would want me to do…"
"Will Treaty it is then," Thomas nodded. He turned to two of his men. "Get him on the horse, and make sure he stays on it, then let them go.
For a brief moment Harcourt met Gilan's eye, his own moist with tears, and he saw the resignation there. Though he told himself he was doing the right thing, knew he was doing the right thing, he could not help the lump in his stomach.
As he left the camp behind him, with Will draped over his saddle, tied to it, and with a struggling pony trailing behind them he could not shake the feeling of despair.
Will would wake soon, and he would demand to know what had happened, and Harcourt did not know how he could tell him.
He had done the right thing, he knew he had, but he could not shake the feeling that Will would not understand…
TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…