The Ruins of Gorlan- Character Reaction

5

After a break and some food, the group entered the room once more, the Ranger and Horace still nursing one last cup of coffee...for the time being.

"I'll take the book next, Horace," Arald said. The tall knight nodded as Arald picked it up and opened it, his deep voice sounding about the room as he began to speak.

It was long after midnight. The flickering torches around the castle yard, already replaced once, had begun to burn low again. Will had watched patiently for hours, waiting for this moment—when the light was uncertain and the guards were yawning, in the last hour of their shift.

"Hmm, wonder what's going to happen," Gilan said in a mock weary tone. Will shrugged, though he knew very well what was going to happen.

The day had been one of the worst he could remember. While his yearmates celebrated, enjoying their feast and then spending their time in lighthearted horseplay through the castle and the village, Will had slipped away to the silence of the forest, a kilometer or so from the castle walls.

Halt frowned at this. Surely they could have invited him, instead of leaving him by himself?

There, in the dim green coolness beneath the trees, he had spent the afternoon reflecting bitterly on the events of the Choosing, nursing the deep pain of disappointment and wondering what the Ranger's paper said.

As the long day wore on, and the shadows began to lengthen in the open fields beside the forest, he came to a decision.

He had to know what was on the paper. And he had to know tonight.

Gilan snickered, while Halt's face was deadpan. Will sighed in resignation. He wasn't sure he was going to enjoy the next few chapters.

Once night fell, he made his way back to the castle, avoiding villagers and castle folk alike, and secreted himself in the branches of the fig tree again. On the way, he slipped unnoticed into the kitchens and helped himself to bread, cheese and apples. He munched moodily on these, barely tasting them, as the evening passed and the castle began to settle down for the night.

He observed the movements of the guards, getting a feeling for their timing as they went on their regular rounds. All three of the older Rangers nodded in approval. In addition to the guard troop, there was a sergeant on duty at the doorway of the tower that led to Baron Arald's quarters.

But he was overweight and sleepy and there was little chance that he would pose a risk to Will. After all, he had no intention of using the door or the stairway.

"Then what did you use, Will?" Crowley asked in mock curiosity. Will studiously ignored him.

Over the years, his insatiable curiosity, and a penchant for going places where he wasn't supposed to–Both Halt and Arald raised an eyebrow-had developed within him the skill of moving across seemingly open space without being seen.

As the wind stirred the upper branches of the trees, they created moving patterns in the moonlight—patterns that Will now used to great effect. He instinctively matched his movement to the rhythm of the trees, blending easily into the pattern of the yard, becoming part of it and so being concealed by it. In a way, the lack of obvious cover made his task a little easier. The fat sergeant didn't expect anyone to be moving across the open space of the yard. So, not expecting to see anyone, he failed to do so.

All three of his Ranger companions listened attentively, curious to see how he went about hiding from the guards. Gilan had an impressed look on his face.

"You certainly knew more about sneaking around than I did," he said ruefully. Both Will and Horace grinned at him, remembering the tale of the boy who had tried to sneak up on a Ranger.