The Ruins of Gorlan- Character Reaction

24

They all settled down once more after a quick dinner, anxious to read the rest of the story. Duncan took the book and flipped the pages, clearing his throat before beginning to read.

"SOMETHING'S HAPPENED," HALT SAID QUIETLY, SIGNALING for his two companions to rein in their horses.

Will groaned. "Oh, great."

The three riders had cantered the last half a kilometer to the Gathering Ground. Now, as they crested a slight rise, the open space among the trees lay just below them, a hundred meters away. Small, one-man tents stretched in ordered ranks, and the smoke of cooking fires scented the air. An archery range had been set up to one side of the open space, and several dozen horses, all small and shaggy Ranger horses, were grazing close to the trees.

Even from where they sat on their horses, they could make out an air of urgency and activity throughout the camp. In the center of the tent lines was a larger pavilion, easily four meters by four meters and with enough headroom for a tall man to stand. The sides were currently rolled up and Will could see a group of green and gray clad men standing around a table, apparently deep in conversation. As they watched, one of the group detached himself, running to a horse waiting just outside the entrance. He mounted and spun the horse on its back legs, setting out through the camp at a gallop, heading for the narrow track through the trees at the far side.

Gilan sighed. "Hmm, I wonder what's going on," he said with mock confusion. Will snorted, while Halt rolled his eyes.

He had barely disappeared into the deep shadows under the trees when another rider appeared from the opposite direction, galloping through the lines and reining in outside the large tent. His horse had barely stopped before he swung down and headed in to join the group inside.

"A bit busy," Duncan said lightly. Crowley chuckled.

"Just a bit."

"What is it?" Will asked. Frowning, he realized that several of the small tents were being struck and rolled up by their owners.

"Not sure," Halt replied. He gestured to the tent lines. "See if you can find us a decent campsite. I'll see what's going on."

"And then lead us on a terrifying little field trip," Will muttered.

He urged Abelard forward, then turned and called back: "Don't pitch the tents yet. From the looks of things, we may not be needing them." Then Abelard's hooves were drumming on the turf as he galloped toward the center of the camp.

Will and Gilan found a campsite under a large tree, reasonably close to the central gathering area. Then, uncertain as to what they should do next, they sat on a log, waiting for Halt's return. As a senior Ranger in the Corps, Halt had access to the larger pavilion, which Gilan explained was the command tent. The Corps Commandant, a Ranger named Crowley, would meet with his staff there each day to organize activities and to collate and evaluate the reports and information that individual Rangers brought to the Gathering.

Crowley grinned. "Nice to know I haven't been forgotten."

Halt sighed. "Trust me, no one could forget you and your chatterbox mouth." The Commandant laughed.

Most of the tents near the two younger Rangers were unoccupied, but there was a thin gangly Ranger outside one, pacing impatiently back and forth, looking every bit as confused as Gilan and Will. Seeing them on the log, he moved over to join them.

"Any news?" he said immediately, and his face fell when Gilan answered.

Gilan snorted. "We'd just gotten there."