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 19
As Castle Araluen came into view, it was not only with awe over the beauty of the castle that Gilan watched it, but with a sense of familiarity that he was still almost surprised to find. He knew this place; he had been there several times with his father as a child. Often left to his own devices when his father was busy, exploring the myriad of corridors, the parkland around it, getting into minor scrapes and mischief in the odd corners. He also had a strong feeling of trepidation, he would have to face his father, the Princess Cassandra, not to mention King Duncan, after he had not known them. He could not help but worry that they would be displeased with him.
How did you tell your king, the man you had sworn to serve, that you had forgot who he was? Cassandra, whom he had failed so badly, allowed to get captured and enslaved. Even in spite of that, she had sought to be so kind to him, taking the trouble to go to him, and he had not known her.
His own father, who might always have been somewhat distant and formal, but whom he knew had always loved him just the same. How must David have felt for it? To have his son more or less ask him to leave?
He hadn't exactly been at his best with Crowley either, he recalled begging him not to go, not to leave him with Halt. After Crowley had taken the time away from his duties to take him there personally. Something he must have cleared with King Duncan, and Gilan had not known to be grateful for the kindness.
The castle was beautiful with its towers and its surrounding vista, the river that flowed past it, the green fields. Yet he averted his eyes, unable to look upon it. He wasn't certain how he would face going there, look those people in the eye and say he was sorry.
With a start, his eyes fell on the man suddenly next to him. As they neared the castle, he had pulled aside a little from the others. Feeling uneasy, and now, Halt had appeared right next to him, so close their knees were almost touching. They couldn't, of course, with both Gilan and his horse being so much taller than the other man and his pony, but the closeness was the same.
"You're being an idiot," Halt stated quietly.
"That's the words of encouragement I wanted," Gilan couldn't help an amused snort. "And Will thinks you're harder on him than you were on me…"
"Even so, you are being an idiot," Halt repeated, and Gilan nodded.
"I know, doesn't make it any easier…"
"Give your father some credit, he put up with you for all those years… He's not going to give up now," Halt mused.
"You used to complain about him foisting me off on you…" Gilan reminded him. "So he would not have to deal with me…"
"Doesn't change the facts," Halt shrugged, glad that his beard for most parts hid his smile. He knew he wasn't fooling Gilan, but he wasn't trying to. He was reminding him. Will was so confident in himself, but not always in his abilities, while Gilan was the complete opposite. He had always been confident in his abilities and his skills, but not really in himself. Strange how the two were so different, and how you'd assume if anything it was the other way around.
Gilan hid it well, it was easy to forget, but he never could take his own worth for granted the way Will did. He needed to hear it at times. So alike, and so different at the same time, and he wondered sometimes if he had done something wrong with one of them. Certainly he was more experienced himself when he took Will, and was able to avoid some of the landslide failures he had made with Gilan.
The lad had been easy to teach, so eager, and already far more experienced than a boy his age should have been. It was easy to forget some of the things he did not know.
"If you think for one moment David won't be thrilled to see you back, sound and whole, you are an idiot," Halt stated.
"I know that," Gilan let out a breath, shoulders sagging. He did know, but he still found it hard to hide the apprehension he felt. The feeling didn't ease when they headed into the castle, after they had seen to their horses.
With such important and well known people as Baron Arald and Ranger Halt, many of the people in the castle hurriedly got out of their way. Gerard, King Duncans Chamberlain came hurrying to greet them, and to usher them on and to the King's study.
Upon entering the room, Gilan felt his cheeks heat up as he saw not only the King, but his father standing by the window. Sir David was the perfect picture of calm composure, hands clasped behind his back, but Gilan knew him well enough to tell he was uneasy. He felt his eyes on him, and barely a glance was spared for the rest of them.
After Baron Arald, and Halt had greeted the king, he took a step forward, "Your grace," he bowed, the way his father had taught him when he was a small child. Straightening, he turned towards the knight and inclined his head. "Father."
"Gilan?" David's voice was cautious, careful, so he would not push in too far, but Gilan offered a smile and a shrug.
"Our young Ranger has regained his memories of who he is," Arald spoke up.
"Is that true?" Duncan looked at the young man in surprise. Given how long it had been, he had not thought it would ever be.
"Yes, my lord," Gilan confirmed. "I got it all back. At first, I was missing bits, including what happened. I got it back though, through what you'd probably have to call a happy accident…"
"Which means, he thought that Baron Arald was trying to push him down the stairs," Halt interjected, enjoying the identical looks of annoyance Gilan and Arald gave him, as well as the same mirrored look of stunned surprise from Duncan and David.
The king seemed to regain his composure first, shaking his head, and gesturing to the table with chairs that stood in the corner of the room. "Might as well sit down, and I'll have some coffee brought up, I have a feeling this will take some time to explain.
"I think, perhaps we should send for Commandant Crowley as well," Arald mused. "I believe he should hear it."
"And if I know him half as well as I think, he's on his way already," Duncan mused. "I doubt he missed several of his Rangers arriving. That man seems to know all that's happening here, most of it before I do."
He was proven right, for as Gerard arrived with a tray of cups, and two large coffee pots, so did Crowley. Inclining his head to the king, and to David, he seemed to focus on the tall Ranger. Duncan was not surprised, nor slighted. He and Crowley saw each other enough they had fallen into an easy relationship with the bare minimum of bowing and scraping. He also knew that while the Ranger Commandant would never play favourites, he was closer to Gilan than to most of the others. Seeing as Halt was his best friend, it was only logical.
Alert eyes scanned the young man, and taking in the others with them, smiling as he did so. "You back with us then?"
"Yeah," Gilan nodded.
"Good," Crowley's smile grew wider. "I knew taking you to Halt was the right thing to do."
"Even when he doesn't know who he is, he won't do what he's told," Halt grunted.
"Oh, I'm sure he had a good reason," Crowley waved it away as he took his seat with them, and the coffee was passed around.
"Gilan, better you start telling what happened," Duncan decided and the younger man nodded.
Will did not really have anything to do but listen, he did not think it was his place to interject with questions as the others did. He found it hard to understand how the older Ranger could be so calm and precise as he reported what had been done to him. As if he was just listing facts, not really taking into account he had been attacked and hurt. Looking around at the other men, he saw them grit their teeth as their eyes narrowed.
"They dared to attack a King's Ranger?" Duncan burst out.
"I think it was impulse rather than planned," Gilan decided. "I never should have gone first down the stairs, but I underestimated them."
"You did," Crowley decided. "That was a mistake."
"You should not have to be on guard for one of our Battlemasters!" David's voice was filled with barely controlled fury.
"Certainly not," Duncan clenched his fist. "You are certain it was him?"
"He was right behind me, and even if he had managed to slip past, I honestly think the Baron was too much of a coward for the act," Gilan shrugged. Draining the last coffee in his mug, he reached for the closest pot to refill it. Duncan pushed the small honey pot closer to him, noting the grateful smile. In many ways, Gilan was much easier to read than the other Ranger's in the room. Halt and Crowley were much more guarded, their features schooled to show only what they wanted to show. Even the young one, Will was more closed, though there seemed to be a permanent look of awe on his face.
Sir David had been a man Duncan relied on for many years, ever since the man had been a young knight and appointed Battlemaster at Caraway Fief. Younger than many who held the position, and a widower with an infant son to boot. He had seen a lot of Gilan over those years, the irrepressible bundle of energy that was always with David. Seeing his natural skill with the sword, Duncan had always assumed Gilan would follow right in his father's footsteps, and had assumed that the son would serve his own child after David finally reached an age where he could no longer perform his duties.
Keeping appraised of his studies with MacNeil, Duncan had regretfully noted perhaps the boy would even outdo himself, and had already been certain that at one point, Gilan would most likely serve as one of his closest men, perhaps even as Supreme Battlemaster as David was now. It seemed he would follow a different legacy though. There was much of both Crowley and Halt in him. For all he was more open now, easily readable, he knew that the moment Gilan wished for that to change, Duncan would not be able to tell a single thing from his face.
He had seen the infant grow into a man, and knew that whatever capacity he served in, he would always serve his country and his king to the best of his ability. That there were such treacherous cowards as the ones in Hogarth Fief angered him. It made him furious. He could only imagine how David must feel as it was his son who had been attacked, subjected to an outright attempt to kill him.
"That's more than enough for me," Duncan stated. If Gilan was certain of it, it was, for while it could be hard to trust someone who had only recently regained his memories, he knew one thing. Gilan would never say anything unless he really was absolutely certain. He would never accuse anyone if there was the slightest doubt in his mind. He wasn't hot headed, like he himself tended to be. Even now, he wanted to level the castle to the ground, tear up the whole Fief… "How many men do you plan to bring?" he asked, turning to David.
"How many would I need?" David asked his son.
Gilan shrugged, "Hard to say, if it's the same as when I was there, two first year cadets should be more than enough, since I assume you intend on going yourself, sir?"
"I most certainly am," David confirmed. "And you think two first year cadets could handle it?"
"Their horses could handle it," Gilan snorted. "But the cadets would most certainly be jealous if their horses got to go when they did not, so better bring them to."
Duncan found himself laughing at his remark, so like Gilan, blunt, honest and true.
"The question is, if they have improved anything by now," Gilan continued. "I would imagine they would have been a bit worried the first month or so. They might very well have tried to make themselves at least somewhat ready. As such, I'd still say that between yourself and Baron Arald, you wouldn't have a problem, but it would no doubt be faster with more men, less chance of someone getting away. I'd say it would be a good task for about one or two dozen of the fourth year cadets. Though he's got real fat and lazy, there's always the chance that the Battlemaster can still fight. You'll want to be prepared for the eventuality. He can't always have been fat, cowardly and lazy."
"Then I would take two dozen of the fourth years," David agreed. "And two full knights my lord," he nodded to Duncan. "If only to help direct them. Most of them enjoy getting to get out now and again."
"Excellent," Duncan confirmed. Thinking to himself that most likely those full knights were as old as David himself, or older, and remembered his son well. It was good experience for the cadets before they graduated, and in Araluen, there was no fear that they might not meet expectations. David was hard, but fair, he handled the Battleschool and all of the military matters. There were always a few malcontents, those who were only barely good enough, and did not like to admit it was due to their own failings, and not any favoritism by the instructors. They would manage to hang on, but grumble and complain while never stopping to think that if they really applied themselves, things might get better. Every Battleschool had one or two of those in every year. Sometimes they were weeded out, sometimes they were allowed to remain.
He was well aware that there had been cadets when Gilan started his official training that viewed him with jealousy. It would be hard to avoid, when a nine year old boy, the Battlemasters son, no less, would keep up with them and even best them. The boy had proven himself though, many times, and his confident, yet humble manners had impressed Duncan a good deal at Hackham Heath. He had been looking forward to him turning fifteen when he would take his place as a full knight. Only, to have the lad take after Halt, to be trained as a Ranger. At first he had been displeased with the grizzled Ranger, considering him to lead a fine young knight astray, but looking at him now, there was no doubt it had been the right choice.
Gilan would have made a great knight, as good as his father, but he was also a great Ranger, and there were few of those.
Two dozen of their older cadets, to show them how a campaign really went, and a couple of old, seasoned ones that well remembered the irrepressible scrap of a boy would suit him perfectly. "Let me know who you take, and when you wish to leave," was all he said.
"I'll leave in the morning," David stated. "I'll have the names ready in an hour, and see about what provisions we need." He turned towards the Rangers. "Are you coming?"
"Gilan will go," Crowley stated. "Unless you do not feel up to it?" he directed the question to the Ranger. "It's understandable if you do not think you'll be able to. No one would think less of you."
"I want to know what happened to Blaze, and my sword," Gilan stated. "And I sure wouldn't mind having a talk with that Battlemaster about his manners." His tone was calm and even, but Will could detect the anger underneath. He always found it just as unsettling each time, that someone who was so cheerful and kind as Gilan, could switch so easily into such a rage. As if it was always bubbling just underneath the surface, waiting for a chance to get out. Was that how Gilan really was? and the cheerful friendliness just a mask?
He did not think so, it seemed far too genuine for that, but it was still frightening to see how easily he cast it aside. Crowley nodded, as if he had not expected anything else. He probably hadn't, Will mused.
"Halt, under the circumstances, I know you want to go along, and I appreciate you coming here in person, but you'll have to go back to Redmont," Crowly continued.
Will found it hard to hide his disappointment, but Halt's features were schooled into immobility, not betraying his thoughts of the matter. "Better you than me," he grunted, nodding to David. "Trying to keep that one out of trouble is enough to turn any man's hair grey."
Rather than looking at all annoyed with the comment, David gave an amused smile. "Ever since he learned to walk…" he stated. "I'll look after him Halt," he added softly.
"We'll find rooms for you for the night," Crowley nodded, knowing the matter was settled. There were few men that Halt would trust with the safety of one of his apprentices, but David was one of them. Not that it was a given only because he was Gilan's father, no, Halt would not be satisfied by that alone. It was by his actions that David had proven himself worthy, and not for anything else. "You can return tomorrow morning," he finished.
Halt nodded, and Will looked at least somewhat relieved. Crowley knew they both found it hard to leave, and he understood, he would have felt the same way. Redmont was however an important Fief, too important to be without its Ranger for too long.
"I'd like to be along, if you'll have me," Arald spoke up, and Crowley nodded.
"I'll be glad to have you," David nodded. "It's always good when the young ones can get some advice from the more experienced. Our recruits hold you in high regard."
"As they should," Duncan stated. "I'll let you work out all the details, report to me before the end of day."
"Of course," David nodded as he stood. "Gilan, will you stay in my quarters? There's more than enough room, or do you want to stay with Halt and Will?"
"He's staying with you, and maybe I can get five minutes of sleep without all the chattering," Halt spoke up before Gilan could even open his mouth. He wanted to spare the young man the decision. It was not as easy a one as it sounded. Gilan would be torn by his loyalties to his father, and to his fellow Rangers. He would not want to seem as if he had any preferential treatment for his father. Especially not with Will there, and yet he saw his father so rarely, Halt felt he should spend what time with him he was able. He usually saw the lad more often than David did, and he knew his friend deeply missed his son. Gilan only shrugged, not being very particular about where he wound up, while David gave Halt a grateful look.
The grizzled Ranger shrugged it off, glancing at his other apprentice. "You might as well scamper off," he decided. "I wager Horace is here somewhere…"
At the prospect of seeing his friend, Will shone up.
"He's in training," David looked up, hiding a smile as he watched Will's face fall. "I'll send someone for him in a bit, I suppose it won't do him any harm to miss a few hours of drill."
"Thank you sir," Will beamed. It would be good to see Horace again, he missed his friend. Gilan remained behind with Crowley, Sir David and Baron Arald while Halt and Will left with King Duncan. There was nothing for the Ranger and his apprentice to do just then, as they would be heading home rather than moving on. Soon enough Horace found them, and Will allowed Horace to show him around the Battleschool.
"Sir David is one of the most skilled swordsmen I've ever seen," Horace declared enthusiastically as he showed Will the dusty field where drills were performed. "He studied under MacNeil. And he's the finest swordsmaster Araluen has ever had. He only takes the absolute best as his students."
"Didn't Gilan mention him?" the name was familiar. Though that had been a long time ago when he had watched Horace and Gilan spar.
"Yes," Horace bobbed his head up and down. "Gilan was his student to, I would really like to spar with him again. I've sparred with Sir David, it's amazing how good he is."
"Is he better than Gilan?" Will asked, and Horac shrugged.
"I don't know, I've only sparred with Gilan once. Sir David does not give a lot of personal instructions, he's too busy with all his other duties, but he will spar with some of us on occasion. He won't let himself get rusty, but it's really hard to keep up with him."
"Isn't that him?" Will frowned, looking at a corner of the practice field.
"Yes," Horace confirmed. "And Gilan, come, you have to watch. This is going to be great." He set off at a brisk walk towards the fence, and Will watched as the two took blunted practice swords from a rack. Each testing the balance. What followed was unlike something Will had ever seen before. He'd seen the Battleschool perform their drills, a certain selection of strokes in a pre-determined sequence. Allowing the instructor to call out a sequence by number, and all would perform the strokes in perfect unison. It was quite impressive to see. They would also spar against each other, though he found it hard to tell if someone was better or worse just by watching. He could really only tell by who was the winner after the fight.
He had understood that Gilan was good, it had been pointed out to him quite firmly by Horace who lived in absolute awe of MacNeil. Anyone worthy of being MacNeil's student was a master in Horace's opinion, and Will wasn't about to dispute it. The time he had seen Gilan drill Horace had certainly been impressive, but Horace had been a green novice then. Better than the other cadets in his year, but still green. Now he was by far more skilled, and yet he stood and watched the two in open mouthed amazement.
"It looks like they're trying to kill each other, for real," Will shook his head. Sir David was as tall as his son, perhaps just a fraction shorter, but he was much heavier built. Yet Gilan blocked, parried and evaded every strike with a seemingly effortless ease. Countering each attack with one of his own, at lightning pace. "What if one of them actually do fail to parry?" he queried. "They could kill each other…"
"Sir David would never let that happen," Horace shook his head. "He's too skilled for that. He can pull his strike if he has to."
"That fast?" Will frowned, watching as Gilan's sword flicked up, deflecting, and then coming in from the side. Deflected by David's sword this time. It was amazing to watch, but he did not see how one of them could stop in time, if one of them should fail to match his opponent.
"Of course," Horace declared. "Sir David is extremely skilled. He's one of the absolute best."
"I think he just lost," even as they watched, the two blades met again, and Gilan, did, something…. Will only saw his blade move, a roughly circular motion, but not quite. David's sword went flying from his hand to land in the dust. Gilan instantly lowering his own sword, smiling as he regarded his father.
"I don't think I've ever seen that before," Horace gazed at the two men in open admiration. "Sir David lose, I mean…"
"Maybe he was going easy on Gilan," Will mused. "I mean, he would, wouldn't he? Since he's his son."
Horace shook his head. "Sir David never goes easy on anyone, the enemy won't, so he says if he would, he would only make it easier for them. You'd have no idea of how good or bad you were, and you might expect every opponent to do it."
"Yeah, but Gilan is kind of hurt," Will frowned. It made sense, but he found it a little hard to believe a Ranger could actually defeat one of the Kingdom's finest knights. If it was his son or not. "Wouldn't that be reason to go easy on him?"
"No," Horace shook his head. "Would Halt go easy on you?"
"No, not really," he admitted. Thought Halt would kind of, if he was sick or hurt. He wouldn't make him do a lot of things then. During any task he was set to though, Halt would demand he constantly did his best. He would be understanding if he failed, but he would not go easy on him through the task.
"Sir David wouldn't either," Horace shrugged. "You're really lucky, you get to train with Gilan…"
"I guess," he nodded. "I've not done it a lot though, I mean, he's mostly given me some pointers on unseen movements occasionally."
Horace gave him a disapproving frown at that, and Will shrugged. He hadn't really thought about approaching the Ranger for anything but tips on unseen movements. Perhaps he should though, he mused. Gilan had other skills than remaining unseen.
Perhaps next time he met the tall Ranger, he should ask him about a few more tips on how to use the knives in defence against a swordsman.
TBC
The caffeine addicted Cricket wants to thank you all for reading...