Ranger's Apprentice - Rescue

Chapter 12

Halt and Gilan rode into the clearing slowly, all too aware of the terrible smell coming from in front of them.

As they emerged, Halt wrinkled his nose. He'd smelled this scent too many times before. He didn't have to wonder what it was. But that didn't stop him from hoping he'd been wrong. Unfortunately, he was right.

It was the smell of death.

"Halt," Gilan breathed in awe as they looked at the ruinous scene around them. "What happened here...?"

Halt shook his head sadly, slowly moving his eyes around the clearing. It was littered with bodies, all mangled and covered in blood.

"I don't know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Somehow, it seemed wrong to speak too loudly here.

He dismounted, kneeling to inspect the ground. His breath caught in his chest. He tried not to let his concern show, but Gilan had worked alongside Halt for too many years to miss the man's shocked intake of breath.

"What is it?" Gilan asked, staying seated atop Blaze for the time being.

Halt hesitated. He didn't want to worry Gilan until he had to. Truth be told, he hadn't wanted Gilan along to begin with. Not because he didn't like the young man. Quite the opposite, actually. He hadn't wanted to put Gilan at risk. Halt had insisted that Crowley stay in Redmont while he, Halt, went to Highcliff to rescue Will. The baron's note had been unignorable, and Crowley had finally relented to Halt's persistent demand. Under one condition. He had to take Gilan with him.

Gilan, Crowley had pointed out, had an already existing relationship with Baron Phillip. He was also an excellent helping hand, which Halt needed. Especially when he wasn't thinking straight. And with Will missing, Halt definitely wasn't thinking straight.

"I'm not sure," Halt said in answer to Gilan's question. "It could be any horse's tracks. It doesn't necessarily have to be Tug's."

Halt rose, walking through the dead bodies in disgust. He tried to avoid the pools of blood, but there was so much that he eventually couldn't help but step in the dried stains. They were long dead, as testified by the terrible odor, the dried blood, and the swarms of flies around the bodies. Some where stabbed or cut through, as if with a sword or spear. Other's had arrow wounds. Halt swallowed thickly as he saw the broken, gray shaft of an arrow. It was unmistakably the color of a very familiar Ranger's apprentice.

Halt closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

"Will..." he whispered softly. "What have you gotten yourself into here?"

Soft footsteps approached from behind Halt, and the bearded man stood, shaking his head.

"That's Will's arrow," Gilan pointed out unnecessarily. Halt bit back a sarcastic response. He knew that Gilan was just as worried for Will as he was. Sarcasm would do nothing for their moods. Now was not the time. 

Instead, he nodded grimly.

"Yes," he said. "But that doesn't mean..."

His voice trailed off as something caught his eye. He froze, not even drawing another breath after he'd exhaled. His eyes remained rooted to one, horrifying sight.

"Halt?" Gilan asked. Having dismounted, he stepped around the man, seeing his eyes locked on something in the distance and his bearded face pale. Gilan followed his mentor's line of sight, drawing in a shaky breath as he saw what had upset Halt.

"No," the tall young Ranger whispered. Halt sensed Gilan raise a hand to cover his mouth in fear. Shakily, he took one step forward. Then another. As he went, he prayed that he was wrong. That the cloaked figure lying on the ground wasn't dead. That the cloak wasn't mottled, it was just green. That the figure wasn't slight in build, it was just curled up. That it wasn't who he thought it was.

But the closer he got, the more unmistakable the Ranger's cloak was. Halt sank to his knees as he reached the figure. The cloak covered the body. Halt's hands trembled. Tears stung his eyes. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to move on without closure. Without identifying Will's body.

Slowly, he tugged at the cloak. The body was heavy and limp. Dead. Barely able to muster enough strength, Halt finally rolled the body over. An arm fell away from the face, and the brown hair fell out of the cowl of the cloak. It was long and dirty.

It was too long.

Halt's heart hammered as he pulled back the cowl. He let out a small choking sob. Gilan heard the sound and assumed the worst.

"Oh god, Will..." Gilan choked out, still several meters away. Halt shook his head slowly.

"'S not him," he murmured, his voice shaking.

"What?" Gilan asked, and by the sound of his voice Halt could tell that he was crying.

"It's not Will," Halt repeated, stronger this time.

He heard Gilan rush forward, standing over Halt. He sighed heavily and shakily.

Then he shoved Halt's shoulder viciously.

"Halt!" he cried angrily. "Why'd you have to scare me like that! I thought Will was dead! I thought-"

His voice broke with emotion, and he paced back and forth behind Halt, shaking his head. Halt remained where he was, smiling and laughing softly through his relieved tears.

"Why'd he have to go and make it look like he died?" Gilan wondered miserably. Clearly, the moment had effected him deeply. Almost as deeply as Halt.

"He escaped," Halt reasoned. Dimly, he couldn't help but be astonished at Will's clever little trick. "He made the enemy think he'd died so he could escape."

Gilan continued pacing, muttering about what he'd do to Will when they found him.

"It's not Will," Halt repeated quietly to himself. "It's not him. Not him."

After a minute or so, Gilan finally seemed to regain his mind.

"So where is he?"

Halt struggled to regain his mind as well, standing wobbly.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice husky. "But I intend to find him."