White-faced, Will slid to the ground, his knees nearly giving way beneath him. He clung to Tug’s side to stay upright. Halt swung down quickly and moved to the boy’s side. His arm went round him.
‘It’s all right, Will.’ His deep voice cut through the fear that filled Will’s mind. ‘It’s over now.’
But Will shook his head, horrified by the rapid train of events.
‘Halt, I missed … twice! I panicked and I missed!’ He felt a deep sense of shame that he had let his teacher down so badly. Halt’s arm tightened around him and he looked up at the bearded face and the dark, deep-set eyes.
‘There’s a big difference between shooting at a target and shooting at a charging Wargal. A target isn’t usually trying to kill you.’ Halt added the last few words in a more gentle tone. He could see that Will was in shock. And no wonder, he thought grimly.
‘But …I missed …’
‘And you’ve learned from it. Next time you won’t miss. Now you know it’s better to fire one good shot than two hurried ones,’ Halt said firmly. Then he took Will’s arm and turned him towards the camp site under the fig tree. ‘Let’s see what we have here,’ he said, putting an end to the subject.
The black-clad man and the Wargal lay dead beside each other. Halt knelt beside the man and turned him over, whistling softly in surprise.
‘It’s Dirk Reacher,’ he said, half to himself. ‘He’s the last person I would have expected to see here.’
‘You know him?’ Will asked. His insatiable curiosity was already helping him to put the horror of the previous few minutes to one side, as Halt had known it would.
‘I chased him out of the Kingdom five or six years ago,’ the Ranger told him. ‘He was a coward and a murderer. He deserted from the army and found a place with Morgarath.’ He paused. ‘Morgarath seems to specialise in recruiting people like him. But what was he doing here …?’
‘He said he was on a mission for Morgarath,’ Will suggested but Halt shook his head.
‘Unlikely. The Wargals were chasing him and only Morgarath could have ordered them to do that, which he’d hardly do if Reacher really was working for him. My guess is that he was deserting again. He’d run out on Morgarath and the Wargals were sent after him.’
‘Why?’ Will asked. ‘Why desert?’
Halt shrugged. ‘There’s a war coming. People like Dirk try to avoid that sort of unpleasantness.’
He reached for the pack that lay by the camp fire and began to rummage through it.
‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ Will asked. Halt frowned as he grew tired of looking through the pack and dumped its contents onto the ground instead.
‘Well, it strikes me that if he were deserting Morgarath and coming back to Araluen, he’d have to bring something to bargain for his freedom. So …’ His voice died away as he reached for a carefully folded parchment among the spare clothes and eating utensils. He scanned it quickly. One eyebrow rose slightly. After almost a year with the grizzled Ranger, Will knew that was the equivalent of a shout of astonishment. He also knew that if he interrupted Halt before he had finished reading, his mentor would simply ignore him. He waited until Halt folded the parchment, stood slowly and looked at his apprentice, seeing the question in the boy’s eyes.
‘Is it important?’ Will asked.
‘Oh, you could say so,’ Halt told him. ‘We appear to have stumbled on Morgarath’s battle plans for the coming war. I think we’d better get them back to Redmont.’
He whistled softly and Abelard and Tug trotted to where their masters waited.
From the trees several hundred metres away, carefully downwind so that the Ranger horses would catch no scent of an intruder, unfriendly eyes were upon them. Their owner watched as the two Rangers rode away from the scene of the small battle. Then he turned south, towards the cliffs.
It was time to report to Morgarath that his plan had been successful.
It was close to midnight when the single rider reined in his horse outside the small cottage set in the trees below Castle Redmont. The laden pack pony trailing behind the saddle horse ambled to a halt as well. The rider, a tall man who moved with the easy grace of youth, swung down from the saddle and stepped up onto the narrow verandah, stooping to avoid the low-lying eaves. From the lean-to stable at the side of the house came the sound of a gentle nickering and his own horse’s head rose as he answered the greeting.
The rider had raised his fist to knock at the door when he saw a light come on behind the curtained windows. He hesitated. The light moved across the room and, a second or so later, the door opened before him.
‘Gilan,’ Halt said, without any note of surprise in his voice. ‘What are you doing here?’
The young Ranger laughed incredulously as he faced his former teacher.
‘How do you do it, Halt?’ he asked. ‘How could you possibly know it was me arriving in the middle of the night, before you’d even opened the door?’
Halt shrugged, gesturing for Gilan to enter the house. He closed the door behind him and moved to the neat little kitchen, opening the damping vent on the stove and sending new life flaring into the wood coals inside. He tossed a handful of kindling into the stove and set a copper kettle on the hot plate over the fire chamber, shaking it first to make sure there was plenty of water in it.
‘I heard your horse some minutes ago,’ he said. ‘Then, when I heard Abelard call a greeting, I knew it had to be a Ranger horse.’ He shrugged again. Simple when you explained it, the gesture said. Gilan laughed again in reply.
‘Well, that narrowed it down to fifty people, didn’t it?’ he said. Halt cocked his head to one side with a pitying look.
‘Gilan, I must have heard you stumbling up that front step a thousand times when you were studying with me,’ he said. ‘Give me credit for recognising that sound once more.’
The younger Ranger spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. He unclasped his cloak and hung it over the back of a chair, moving a little closer to the stove. It was a chilly night and he watched Halt measuring coffee into a pot with some anticipation. The door to the rear room of the house opened and Will entered the small living room, his clothes pulled on hastily over his nightshirt, his hair still tousled from sleep.
‘Evening, Gilan,’ he said casually. ‘What brings you here?’
Gilan looked from one to the other in something like despair. ‘Isn’t anybody surprised when I turn up in the middle of the night?’ he asked, of no one in particular. Halt, busy by the stove, turned away to hide a grin. A few minutes earlier, he’d heard Will moving hurriedly to the window as the horse drew closer to the cottage. Obviously, his apprentice had overheard Halt’s exchange with Gilan and was doing his best to emulate his own casual approach to the unexpected arrival. However, knowing Will as he did, Halt was sure that the boy was burning with curiosity over the reason for Gilan’s sudden appearance. He decided he’d call his bluff.
‘It’s late, Will,’ he said. ‘You may as well go back to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.’
Instantly, Will’s nonchalant expression was replaced by a stricken look. The suggestion from his master was tantamount to an order. All thought of appearing casual departed instantly.
‘Oh, please, Halt!’ the boy exclaimed. ‘I want to know what’s going on!’
Halt and Gilan exchanged a quick grin. Will was actually hopping from one foot to another as he waited for Halt to rescind the suggestion that he should go to bed. The grizzled Ranger kept a straight face as he set three steaming mugs of coffee on the kitchen table.
‘Just as well I made three cups then, isn’t it?’ he said and Will realised that he’d been having his leg pulled. He shrugged, grinning, and sat down with his two seniors.
‘Very well, Gilan, before my apprentice explodes with curiosity, what is the reason for this unexpected visit?’
‘Well, it has to do with those battle plans you discovered last week. Now we know what Morgarath has in mind, the King wants
the army ready on the Plains of Uthal before the dark of the next moon. That’s when Morgarath plans to break out through Three Step Pass.’
The captured document had told them a great deal. Morgarath’s plan called for five hundred Skandian mercenaries to make their way through the swamps of the fenlands and attack the Araluan garrison at Three Step Pass. With the Pass undefended, Morgarath’s main army of Wargals would be able to break out and deploy into battle order on the Plains.
‘So Duncan plans to beat him to the punch,’ Halt said, nodding slowly. ‘Good thinking. That way we control the battlefield.’
Will nodded in his turn and said in an equally grave voice, ‘And we’ll keep Morgarath’s army bottled up in the Pass.’
Gilan turned slightly to hide a grin. He wondered if he had tried to copy Halt’s mannerisms when he was an apprentice, and decided that he probably had.
‘On the contrary,’ he said, ‘once the army’s in place, Duncan plans to withdraw, then fall back to prepared positions and let Morgarath out onto the Plains.’
‘Let him out?’ Will’s voice went up in pitch with surprise. ‘Is the King crazy? Why would …’
He realised that both Rangers were looking at him, Halt with one eyebrow raised and Gilan with a quizzical smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
‘I mean …’ He hesitated, not sure if questioning the King’s sanity might constitute treason. ‘No offence or anything like that. It’s just –’
‘Oh, I’m sure the King wouldn’t be offended to hear that a lowly apprentice Ranger thought he was crazy,’ said Halt. ‘Kings usually love to hear that sort of thing.’
‘But Halt … to let him out, after all these years? It seems …’ He was about to say ‘crazy’ again but thought better of it. He thought suddenly of his recent encounter with the Wargals. The idea of thousands of those vile beasts streaming unopposed out of the Pass made his blood run cold.
It was Halt who answered first. ‘That’s just the point, Will – after all these years. We’ve spent sixteen years looking over our shoulders at Morgarath, wondering what he’s up to. In that time, we’ve had our forces tied up patrolling the base of the cliffs and keeping watch over Three Step. And he’s been free to strike at us any time he likes. The Kalkara were the latest example, as you know only too well.’
Gilan glanced admiringly at his former teacher. Halt had instantly seen the reasoning behind the King’s plan. Not for the first time, he understood why Halt was one of the King’s most respected advisers.
‘Halt’s right, Will,’ he said. ‘And there’s another reason. After sixteen years of relative peace, people are growing complacent. Not the Rangers, of course, but the village people who provide men at arms for our army, and even some of the barons and battlemasters in remote fiefs to the north.’
‘You’ve seen for yourself how reluctant some people are to leave their farms and go to war,’ Halt put in. Will nodded. He and Halt had spent the past week travelling to outlying villages in Redmont Fief to raise the levies of men who would make up the bulk of the army. On more than one occasion, they had been met with outright hostility – hostility that melted away as Halt exerted the full force of his personality and reputation.
‘As far as King Duncan is concerned, now is the time to settle this,’ Gilan continued. ‘We’re as strong as we’ll ever be and any delay will only weaken us. This is the best opportunity we’ll have to get rid of Morgarath once and for all.’
‘All of which still begs my original question,’ Halt said. ‘What brings you here in the middle of the night?’
‘Orders from Crowley,’ Gilan said crisply. He placed a written despatch on the table and Halt, after an enquiring look at Gilan, unrolled it and read it. Crowley was the Commandant of the Rangers, Will knew, the most senior of all the fifty Rangers in the Corps. Halt read, then rolled the orders closed again.
‘So you’re taking despatches to King Swyddned of the Celts,’ he said. ‘I assume you’re invoking the mutual defence treaty that Duncan signed with him some years ago?’
Gilan nodded, sipping appreciatively at the fragrant coffee. ‘The King feels we’re going to need all the troops we can muster.’
Halt nodded thoughtfully. ‘I can’t fault his thinking there,’ he said softly. ‘But …?’ He spread his hands in a questioning gesture. If Gilan were taking despatches to Celtica, the sooner he got on with it the better, the gesture seemed to say.
‘Well,’ said Gilan, ‘it’s an official embassy to Celtica.’ He laid a little stress on the last word and suddenly Halt nodded his understanding.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘The old Celtic tradition.’
‘Superstition, more like it,’ Gilan answered, shaking his head. ‘It’s a ridiculous waste of time as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Of course it is,’ Halt replied. ‘But the Celts insist on it so what can you do?’
Will looked from Halt to Gilan and back again. The two Rangers seemed to understand what they were talking about. To Will, they might as well have been speaking Espanard.
‘It’s all very well in normal times,’ Gilan said. ‘But with all these preparations for war, we’re stretched thin in every area. We simply don’t have the people to spare. So Crowley thought …’
‘I think I’m ahead of you,’ said Halt and, finally, Will could bear it no longer.
‘Well, I’m way behind you!’ he burst out. ‘What on earth are you two talking about? You are speaking Araluan, aren’t you, and not some strange foreign tongue that just sounds like it, but makes no sense at all?’
Halt turned slowly to face his impulsive young apprentice, and raised his eyebrows at the outburst. Will, subsiding, muttered, ‘Sorry, Halt,’ and the older Ranger nodded.
‘I should think so. It’s more than obvious that Gilan is asking if I’ll release you to accompany him to Celtica.’
Gilan nodded confirmation of the fact and Will frowned, puzzled by the sudden turn of events. ‘Me?’ he said incredulously. ‘Why me? What can I do in Celtica?’
The moment the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. He should have learnt by now never to give Halt that sort of opening. Halt pursed his lips as he considered the question.
‘Not much, probably. The real question is, can you be spared from duty here? And the answer to that is “definitely”.’
‘Then why …’ Will gave up. They would either explain or they wouldn’t. And no amount of asking would make Halt deliver that explanation a second sooner than he chose to. In fact, he was beginning to think that the more questions he asked, the more Halt actually enjoyed keeping him dangling. It was Gilan who took pity on him, perhaps remembering how close-mouthed Halt could be when he chose.
‘I need you to make up the numbers, Will,’ he said. ‘Traditionally, the Celts insist that an official embassy be made up of three people. And to be honest, Halt’s right. You’re one who can be spared from the main effort here in Araluen.’ He grinned a little ruefully. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been given the mission because I’m the most junior Ranger in the Corps.’
‘But why three people?’ Will asked, seeing that Gilan at least seemed disposed to answer questions. ‘Can’t one deliver the message?’
Gilan sighed. ‘As we were saying, it’s a superstition among the Celts. It goes back to the old days of the Celtic Council, when the Celts, the Scotti and the Hibernians were one alliance. They were ruled then by a triumvirate.’
‘The point is,’ Halt interrupted, ‘of course Gilan can take the message to them. But if he’s a sole messenger, they’ll keep him waiting and fob him off for days, or even weeks, while they dither over form and protocol. And we don’t have that sort of time to waste. There’s an old Celtic saying that covers it: One man may be deceit. Two can be conspiracy. Three is the number I trust.’
‘So you’re sending me because you can do without me?’ Will said, somewhat insulted by the thought. Halt decided that it was time to massage his young ego a little �
�� but only a little.
‘Well, we can, as a matter of fact. But you can’t send just anyone on these embassies. The three members have to have some sort of official status or position in the world. They can’t be simple men at arms, for example.’
‘And you, Will,’ Gilan added, ‘are a member of the Ranger Corps. That will carry a certain amount of weight with the Celts.’
‘I’m only an apprentice,’ Will said, and was surprised when both men shook their heads in disagreement.
‘You wear the Oakleaf,’ Halt told him firmly. ‘Bronze or silver, it doesn’t matter. You’re one of us.’
Will brightened visibly at his teacher’s statement. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘when you put it like that, I’d be delighted to join you, Gilan.’
Halt regarded him dryly. It was obviously time for the ego-stroking to end, he thought. Deliberately, he turned to Gilan.
‘So,’ he said, ‘can you think of anyone else who’s totally unnecessary to be the third member?’
Gilan shrugged, smiling as he saw Will subside. ‘That’s the other reason Crowley sent me here,’ he said. ‘Since Redmont is one of the larger fiefs, he thought you might be able to spare someone else from here. Any suggestions?’
Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully, an idea forming. ‘I think we might have just the person you need,’ he said. He turned to Will. ‘Perhaps you’d better get some sleep. I’ll give Gilan a hand with the horses and then we’ll go up to the castle.’
Will nodded. Now that Halt mentioned sleep, he felt an irresistible urge to yawn. He rose and headed for his small room.
‘See you in the morning, Gilan.’
‘Bright and early,’ Gilan smiled and Will rolled his eyes in mock horror.
‘I knew you’d say that,’ he replied.
Halt and Gilan strolled through the fields towards Castle Redmont in companionable silence. Gilan, attuned to his old teacher’s ways, sensed that Halt had something he wanted to discuss, and before too long, the older Ranger broke the silence.
‘This embassy to Celtica could be just what Will needs,’ he said. ‘I’m a little worried about him.’
Ranger's Apprentice 1 & 2 Bindup Page 23