“I don’t mind,” Rowan shook a pillow from its case with too much force, sending it flying across the room and onto the floor. “Whoops!”
“Do you want us to bring you books or something?” Colin asked, sitting on the foot of his bed.
Will shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I actually might get a chance to sleep more if you two are out of here, so people can pester you more.”
Colin laughed and shrugged. “They want to know what happened,” his smile slipped and Will knew that the thoughts that had been haunting him for the past week were on Colin’s mind as well. “We won’t tell anyone,” he whispered, confirming Will’s observation.
“Course we won’t,” Rowan agreed. “I wouldn’t give a hoot if your mother was a weasel from Bronswick and your father half of a dead carrot. Mind you, I’d like him better if he was half a dead carrot and I hate carrots,” he shuddered dramatically. “Orange crunch branches of doom.”
Will snorted his feelings more at ease. He admired how easily Rowan could handle any situation. “Thank you.”
“We won’t be the talk much longer,” Colin assured him. “There was a messenger yesterday who said that King Giltor agreed to ally with Alamore. They got word of what happened in Phersal, I guess, even before our riders had arrived there. He’s coming to court with a squadron of horse soldiers to defend Alamore in the event of an attack. Plus, the tunnel was nearly breached again yesterday.”
“It was?” Will and Rowan asked, simultaneously.
“Yes,” Colin stood, “Sir Miller mentioned it to me. I guess that one of the new guards brought on was paid by someone on the outside to move the iron bars they’ve put over the hatch. Laster caught him and I guess it got pretty ugly.”
Rowan let out a cold laugh. “I can only hope that Laster lost his temper.”
“Well it sounds as though he didn’t have a weapon other than his horse’s bridle and was, in his words, using it to knock a brain into the guard,” Colin said and shook his head. “He’s got a hot temper.”
“When it comes to the tunnels, I actually don’t mind that he does,” Will said.
Rowan nodded agreement and ran a hand through his hair. “We better get out of here before good old Healy the Know It All comes in and tells us off, again.”
They said their goodbyes to Will, promising to come back as soon as they could and make sure that Visra was worked. It took the grouchy healer, a squat man with beady eyes, returning and snapping at them before they left.
Alone in the room, all the air left Will’s lungs and he slumped against his pillows. He stared at the empty beds, grimaced, and rolled his head back to look at the high ceiling. For the past few days, all he had wanted was to be alone. Once he had realized that Ross and the Ranger were not coming into the chamber, he’d wanted space for himself to think over all that had happened that day in Thornten. Now that he had it, he didn’t know if he wanted to face the truth on his own.
The Ranger and Marl were both brothers to Tollien. He had come to accept that on the second sleepless night in the room, listening to Rowan’s snores and Colin whispering in his restless sleep. It explained the Ranger’s fascination with him, as well as his reluctance to turn Marl over to Alamore’s soldiers. But why hadn’t he? When Marl had come to the castle, surely, he had known that Marl wasn’t to be trusted. Or had he trusted him until then? Maybe it had been the ambush in the abandoned tunnel that had made the Ranger lose all trust, even forced Marl to leave Alamore lands. If the Ranger had died in the tunnel, and no one, truly, had known that Marl was the one to advise him to go there, why couldn’t Marl have stayed on in the town, spying from within their borders? He thought of Laster’s hatred for the Ranger, for anyone that had “turned” from one side to the other. It made so much sense now that he wondered why he had never thought of it before.
“If you’re not too lost in your own mind,” the Ranger’s voice made him jump, pain searing his side as he turned his head toward the hood figure walking toward him in the darkening room. “I think it’s time we caught up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Will confessed sheepishly.
The Ranger sank slowly into a chair, his left arm held cautiously close to his side. Will remembered the blood from his fight with the Thornten squire and Marl. He hadn’t been to the healer once since their return. “If you heard me come in,” the Ranger said coldly, “I would be no better than a knight in a hood and cloak. I exist to seem non-existent.”
Will shuddered at the words. “Does that mean-”
“It does not mean that you have to become what I’ve become because of who your father is,” the Ranger interjected. “What I’ve become was what I needed to be to best serve the King of Alamore and that’s what I live to do. He’s given me more chances than I deserve,” he laughed coldly. “Which, I’m sure you have realized, can be a bad thing.”
“You gave Marl that chance? When he told you about the tunnels?” Will asked.
He wished that he could see the Ranger’s face beneath the hood. The light outside was fading, more clouds rolling in as the sun sank, and the fireplace was the only light lit in the healing chamber. The healer hadn’t remembered to light the torches as he ushered Rowan and Colin away.
The Ranger nodded. “Yes, I gave him that chance. I’ve seen what Marl is for too many years to be as foolish as I was with that chance. It was why I was sure you could not tell anyone. Others,” he laughed softly, “are not as generous as I chose to be with Marl. They might have brought their concerns to the King and I would rather have the trust of my King than a pulse.”
“Laster?” Will guessed.
This time, the Ranger didn’t bother to hide his laughter. “Laster has brought so much against me, as well as anyone else he’s ever decided not to care for, that his word means little. He and I share a separate part of our life that has made us the best of enemies. I trust Laster, but I don’t care for him. Deep down, I know he feels the same. He just likes to raise as much trouble as he can where I am concerned. No, there are others who have better reasons to hate Marl.”
“Like who? And why?”
“That,” the Ranger snapped, “is not my information to share. If they wanted you to know, I think that they’d tell you, not that I’d advise telling a twelve-year-old squire.”
Will glowered at the Ranger who didn’t seem to notice or care as he pulled a dagger from his belt, turning it slowly in his hands and staring at the blade. “What I need you to understand,” he finally said, his voice even and cool, “is that the King doesn’t care who your father is, or he would have my head. You and I are similar in that manner and that manner alone. We both have Thornten blood, we are both royalty that has been exiled and-”
“Why were you exiled?” Will interrupted.
“You really like to ask questions that aren’t your business, don’t you?” the Ranger growled irritably. “As I was saying; his concern is that you are loyal to his throne, Alamore, and protecting Alamore. Not going around and changing sides to whoever seems to be winning at that moment in time. Thornten has a history of unorthodox Kings. That is to say, Kings who don’t care if it is right or wrong, so long as it’s themselves that are living. This means they will get their way no matter the cost to their country, the people in it. They are smart, though, and tiptoe enough to keep a close band of loyal Lords, Dukes, Counts, and traitors. Often, their best-known royalty and fighters are second heirs to lands in other countries. Say, if Rowan had a younger brother, not sent to Alamore, they would try to find a way to tempt him to their side. They would offer to get Rowan out of the way so that he could have Lonric and, unfortunately, it works,” the Ranger turned, his jaw visible and drawn in the shadows.
“Humans aren’t all creatures of loyalty. We like to look after ourselves first. Alamore has been that way in past but it hasn’t turned out well. That’s why we have the tunnels; a King who hired masons and treated them poorly left an issue that stretches on to
this day. They sold out to Thornten and used Alamore’s taxed money to build our greatest weakness from these walls outward. They nearly reached Thornten and the other countries before it was discovered and they were punished.”
“How were they punished?” Will leaned forward.
“Are you stupid?” the Ranger asked, his voice genuinely interested. “They had the traitors and their families, banished to the tunnels. They took away the masonry tools, the bricks that they needed to continue the tunnel, and they forced over a hundred people into the tunnels to die. That King never expected that they’d actually survived, that they’d thrive. The damn fool.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Will furrowed his brow.
“That fool of a King is causing us all sorts of problems now that involve a whole lot more than yourself. The thing with that King, Will, is that we are both related to him as well. His younger brother married a princess in Thornten. Don’t you get it?” the Ranger demanded. “That King is related to our King Revlan and our dear sweet King Tollien and the two of us,” now a grim smile was stretching over the Ranger’s barely visible mouth. “Do you understand what that means for both of us?”
Will stared, his stomach sinking, at the hooded man. “Ranger, I don’t want any of this.”
“Which is what is keeping you alive!” the Ranger laughed, shaking his head. “If you wanted either of those thrones, you’d be dead because our King would draw the line right there. This is why you’re a threat to Tollien and Marl! They can only assume that you, like them, want power and are already inside of Alamore, serving Alamore. The King would be only too happy to see someone else sit on the throne in Thornten. They don’t see me as a threat, you’re the threat for more reasons than I can even explain,” the man stood, still chuckling.
“In one day, you find out you’re an heir to two thrones and can never want either, but will be targeted for your blood. I think that’s enough for one day.”
“I want to know more! Why am I a threat? I don’t want the throne! I don’t! I’m twelve!” Will realized that he was raising his voice and had to bite down, hard, on the side of his mouth.
“Wouldn’t you rather kill your enemy before they were a trained knight?” the Ranger demanded. “And, as for the rest, that’s for you to know later. This is already more than I should have said.”
Will stared at him, hating that he couldn’t know everything that the hooded man was hiding. “You have to tell me or I’ll ask someone else. Ross said he’d talk to me! I’ll ask him!”
“Ask him,” the Ranger turned on his heel, striding toward the door. “He can tell you what he will, but I don’t see that he’s going to say much. He knows you need time,” he hesitated, back to Will, hand on the door handle. “I think that Ross needs his time as well before he is willing to discuss any of this.”
“Ranger,” Will pleaded. “Why are you the Ranger of Kings?”
He saw the shoulders under the cloak slump for a moment, the man’s head dipping down. “Because I chose it. I have done too much for another King to be a knight here. I have served more than one King so I am the Ranger of Kings. I’m not proud of all I’ve done but I’ve always done what I thought, at the time, to be right. That’s enough for one night, Will, get your rest,” the Ranger pulled the door open and vanished, Will never having the time to form another question to make the man stay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The days drug past after his talk with the Ranger, and Will wasn’t sure if it was due to their discussion or not having Rowan and Colin to help make time pass. They were true to their word, coming in daily to give him updates on their training, what was happening in the walls, and what terrible thing Visra had done that day. The Thornten squire had been moved from the dungeons to a separate chamber after finally agreeing to talk to Sir Ross during one of his sentry watches.
Ross and the other knights refused to let anyone in on what was happening but, to Rowan’s irritation, the Thornten squire had been invited to a knights’ council meeting a few days after being moved, walking through the squire chambers without restraints but between a stony-faced Sir Laster and a grim Sir Ross. Will had laughed, imagining how livid Laster was to have to deal with another traitor so soon after Airagon.
The Shadow Dale delegation had been delayed due to first the snow, then the mud as the snow melted, but was expected to arrive any day. In preparation, the squires now were juggling their training as well as setting up temporary barns near the jousting arena, extra cots in the only half-used squire quarters, helping soldiers prepare the barracks for their visitors, and sharpening weapons in the armory.
“All of the town-based soldiers arrived yesterday,” Colin said, handing Will his second boot. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with excitement as he tried to put the boot on. “Eager to get out?”
Will nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I am. I haven’t gotten out of here in two and a half weeks and I hate it here now,” he admitted.
Rowan nodded. “Because this place sucks.”
Colin rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You really don’t appreciate healing as much as you should. You do know that we are supposed to learn basic field medic work before we are knights?”
Rowan shrugged. “Will, hurry up, I want to leave before he starts in on some lecture about stitches and such. I can’t take another of his lectures.”
Will stood, tentative as he straightened. He could feel his muscles straining from lack of use over the past weeks, his side still a dull ache. The healer had been reluctant to let him go but with the impending arrival of the Shadow Dale riders, he had needed the space for the men who would be injured or ill from the journey. Will had been released under the restrictions that he wouldn’t ride for another two weeks; which Rowan swore would kill him because of Visra’s attitude. “Okay, let’s get out of here then. Armory next, right?” Will asked, grinning mischievously.
Rowan shot him a filthy look while Colin had to hide his laughter in his sleeve. “Another wisecrack like that and I’ll rebreak the rib, wise guy,” Rowan grumbled.
The main corridor below was pandemonium, with soldiers, squires, pages, horse handlers, and serving staff moving in every direction. Will pressed his back against the wall to let a pair of women pass him, neither seeming to notice he was there as they rushed to bring new clean bandages to the healers’ quarters.
“Watch it, ladies,” Rowan muttered. “This place has gone insane.”
Colin nodded. “It has, but they keep saying we are going to have a real fight on our hands soon. So, can’t really be shocked. Let’s get to the squire chambers before we get put to work doing something else and never get a chance to eat.”
“Shouldn’t we be trying to get to the dining hall then?” Will asked, following his two friends through the thick stream of bodies. He threw out his hands for the wall as his boots slipped over the melting snow being brought in by the masses.
Rowan and Colin both grabbed him defensively, Colin bracing his shoulder into the crowd to clear their way. “We eat in the squire chamber for now, you’ll see why in a moment,” Rowan said.
It took what felt like an eternity before they broke loose of the throng and into the wide dining hall. Will felt his mouth fall open as he stared around the massive room. The great empty open spaces between the squire, knights, and pages tables were gone. In fact, the round table where he and his friends always sat had been removed. The knights’ table alone remained unchanged. Over the past week, rows upon rows of long thin tables and benches had been erected for visiting soldiers.
The kitchen staff was busy setting plates and silverware at one end of a set of long tables pressed flush with the wall, while castle workers stacked the iron racks beside the fireplaces with new logs. Two men were lifting a barrel of wine onto a table at the back of the hall, their faces red and sweaty despite the chill outside.
“Think we could sneak a glass of wine?” Rowan pondered.
Colin rolled his ey
es. “Do you not remember the last time you did that?”
Rowan shrugged. “I prefer not to; I’d rather have a fresh start.”
Will grinned. “What happened last time?”
“I was a page and got a little tipsy in front of Sir Ross,” Rowan said, clearly skirting the matter.
“He got pretty drunk,” Colin corrected, “and when Ross asked him if he was drunk, he tried to run away instead of answering and bruised himself pretty well getting stuck halfway through the window in the pages chamber. Stuff like that is probably why they keep squires and pages on the ground floor…” Colin added as an afterthought.
Will laughed and Colin held up a hand. “Oh, wait, we haven’t reached the best part! Rowan was bruised and hungover the next morning so how do all the pages get woken up? By Ross, barging into the page chambers and dropping a metal bucket on the floor. Scared me half to death but Rowan just moaned and held his head, then we got set to cleaning this entire bloody dining hall! Ross and Rockwood both took turns coming in and ‘accidentally’ tripping over the metal bucket we were using for mopping. It was deafening!” Colin gestured around the room grandly and Will burst into more laughter.
Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1) Page 22