The Burning Bridge- Character Reaction

22

Alyss took the book as they sat down, flipping through the pages until she found the right one, and began to read.

BLAZE'S HEAD HUNG LOW AS HE TROTTED SLOWLY INTO THE outskirts of the King's camp on the Plains of Uthal. Gilan swayed wearily in the saddle. They had barely slept in the past three days, snatching only brief rests once every four hours.

Halt pursed his lips in annoyance. "It wouldn't have hurt to rest a little, you do know that?"

Gilan shrugged. "There wasn't enough time."

Two guards stepped forward to query his progress and the young Ranger fumbled inside his shirt for the silver amulet in the form of an oak leaf—the Rangers' badge of office. At the sight of it, the guards stepped back hurriedly to clear the way. In times like these, nobody delayed a Ranger—not if he knew what was good for him. Crowley chuckled.

Gilan rubbed his gritty eyes. "Where is the War Council tent?"

One of the guards pointed with his spear to a larger-than-normal tent, set up on a knoll overlooking the rest of the camp. There were more guards there, and a large number of people coming and going, as one would expect at the nerve center of an army.

"There, sir. On that small rise."

Gilan nodded. He'd come so far, so fast, finishing the four-day journey in just over three. Now these few hundred meters seemed like miles to him. He leaned forward and whispered in Blaze's ear.

Halt shook his head in mild exasperation, though, he admitted to himself, he couldn't exactly say much. Not unless he wanted to be a hypocrite.

"Not much farther, my friend. One more effort, please."

The exhausted horse's ears twitched and his head came up a few inches. At Gilan's gentle urging, he managed to raise a slow trot and they passed through the camp.

Dust drifting on the breeze, the smell of woodsmoke, noise and confusion: the camp was like any army camp anywhere in the world. Orders being shouted. The clang and rattle of arms being repaired or sharpened. Laughter from tents, where men lay back relaxing with no duties to be performed—until their sergeants found them and discovered jobs for them to be doing.

Rodney snorted. "They shouldn't have to have their sergeants find jobs for them." Arald chuckled

"I suppose in their minds, if their immediate jobs are done, then they get off." Rodney shook his head.

Gilan smiled tiredly at the thought. Sergeants seemed to be totally averse to seeing their men having an easy time of it. Rodney smirked.

Blaze came to a halt once more and he realized, with a jerk, that he'd actually nodded off in the saddle. Before him, two more guards barred the way to the War Council compound. He looked at them blearily. Pauline gave the young Ranger a look of sympathy.

"King's Ranger," he croaked, through a dry throat. "Message for the Council."

The guards hesitated. This dust-covered, half-asleep man, seated on a lathered, exhausted bay horse, might well be a Ranger. He was certainly dressed like a Ranger, as far as they could tell. Yet the guards knew most of the senior Rangers by sight, and they had never seen this young man before. And he showed no sign of identification.

Crowley shook his head. "I'm disappointed to know that those soldiers think someone would be able to catch a Ranger unawares."

Halt shrugged. "Or they're just idiots."

What's more, they noticed, he carried a sword, which was definitely not a Ranger's weapon, so they were reluctant to admit him to the carefully guarded War Council compound. Irritably, Gilan realized that he had neglected to leave the silver oakleaf device hanging outside his shirt. The effort of finding it again suddenly became intense. He fumbled blindly at his collar. Then a familiar, and very welcome, voice cut through his consciousness.