| Halt's Ranger Apprentices | This is War | Volume 2 |

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A/N: Lately I've been missing this story and I've still been getting so much great feedback on this that I wanted to update for you all. I really want to get myself to update more regularly as well because I checked before and March was the last time I updated, so I'm so sorry, and enough is enough. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks again for all the ongoing support, and I am so grateful that I've got so much support, this means so much to me. (: 

For copyright reasons, I want to say that I have put some of the same lines of Ranger's Apprentice in here for the storyline, so some dialogue doesn't belong to me and belongs to John Flanagan. 

King Duncan's eyes were embedded with a thousand of the darkest nights when Gilan's story unfolded, Halt's were no lighter, his seeming more like a thick mist that was impenetrable to distinguish how he might act.

All the other men were silent, but Gilan couldn't bring himself to look in their eyes as well, it was hard enough looking at these two men's. It was hard enough seeing such sorrowful wrath as if this battle they hadn't even begun to fight against Morgarath was already lost.

Through Gilan's story, the situation had become worse than he had realised. Evanlyn had really been Princess Cassandra's maid and going by Evanlyn's story, it meant that the trip to Celtica to keep Cassandra safe had really led to her death. Cassandra was dead. Annabelle was dead.

Two daughters were gone. One war still to come.

King Duncan dismissed Gilan after that, he wasn't sure if it was out of being polite to let Gilan sleep a few more hours or because he couldn't even look at him anymore.

Silently, solemnly, he left and slept for another six hours.

He dreamt of the fire again. Again and again and again.

<----------<<<-

The five Wargals that had taken Annabelle captive hadn't even reached the entrance when the fires that an unknown enemy had lit reached what black powder she had managed to smother on the bridge.

Hues of oranges, reds and yellow grew in a big cloud, anything in its path destroyed instantly, the sound of it all like a roar of all the Gods themselves. A wave of the power struck the figures from where they were, while debris scattered around the entire place.

Sharp pieces of wood cut into the skin, the temperature had become almost excruciatingly painful and the smoke felt like stone shoved down the lungs; all of it was felt by anyone in the area of the once monster construction. However, now it was just fire and smoke.

Hearing the ugly cries of the Wargals in pain, Annabelle saw it as she opportunity to run, to escape, but her body wouldn't move, only her eyes would obey, as she saw through the smoke at other figures lying on the ground, that were human. Ones with blonde hair and another with a dark shade of brown.

Her lids drooped in exhaustion.

When she opened them again, a familiar face had risen from the ground. Only, she recognised the face to be cleaner, and inside the walls of Castle Araluen, and the blonde hair had been longer.

"Cassandra," her voice was a wisp of the wind in the roaring fires, non-existent.

Her lids grew heavy again, and she closed them again.

Opening them with more effort than before, another familiar face came into her vision, dark brown eyes, small build, his recurve bow in hand as he drew back and shot from behind her. Both the familiar faces stood in front of her, but the smoke had made the rest of her non-existent.

Will was shouting to something behind him, and she had to squint to see a small figure on the other side of the blown up bridge. Her stomach plummeted when she realised he too was a familiar figure. Horace.