Ranger's Apprentice - Rescue

Chapter 28

"William Treaty, sit your behind back on that bedroll this very instant!"

Halt's voice echoed around the clearing. Annalise and George yelped in surprise, the latter dropping the metal pot he'd been trying to set over the fire. It clanged around on the rock barrier, and the water ran over the fire and logs with a sizzling sound followed by a cloud of steam.

Gilan was sharpening his sword. Halt's words had no effect on him. He was used to the man's anger issues. At the sizzle of the water putting out the fire, however, he glanced up, a little dreadfully.

"I'll be rebuilding that, I suppose," he muttered to himself, grunting as he stood to his feet.

Halt was glaring at his apprentice, arms crossed and eyebrows thundering down above glittering, dangerous dark eyes.

Will, for his part, simply blinked twice, his eyebrows twitching together.

"My full name isn't William," he commented slowly, frowning in confusion.

Halt glowered at him.

"Sit. Down." he growled. Will sighed heavily, dramatically even, but did as Halt told him.

"Halt, I need to walk around a bit," he tried in a reasonable tone. He'd been laying, or sitting, for days now, and felt as if he had ants in his pants. "My leg needs exercise."

"Will, it's been four days. Four blasted days. I haven't even removed your stitches yet. There is no way you're walking on that leg for at least another week."

They stayed like that, both stubbornly glaring at each other, for several moments. Nearby, Annalise and George watched them nervously. Both, it must be said, could be incredibly intimidating when they chose to be. And while Halt was admittedly much scarier that his young apprentice, Will looked far from approachable at the moment.

Gilan simply glanced at the two Rangers from time to time, a smirk playing on his lips while he rebuilt the fire in a new location.

"Fine," Will finally relented. "Fair enough. My leg needs rest."

"As I've said all along," Halt snapped. But his superior expression faded as Will let out a low whistle. Instantly, there was a low whinny by way of answer, and in seconds a little gray horse was standing immediately over Will.

"Just what do you think-" Halt began, but Will interrupted him knowingly.

"You said my leg needs a rest. Down here, boy," he added to Tug. The little horse lowered his head more than it already was and allowed Will to wrap his arms around Tug's neck. "That's it. Now then, up we go." Tug lifted his neck and Will, using his good leg, stood to his feet once more. Then he raised an eyebrow in Halt's direction. "I'm not using my leg when I ride, now am I?"

Halt curled his lip.

"Are you trying to be smart with me?" he challenged. Will detected the tone in his mentor's voice and shook his head respectfully.

"Anything but," he replied. "You're right, Halt. I need to let my leg rest. But I can't just lay around for days and weeks, can I? After all, would you be able to look me in the eye and say you'd do such a thing if our roles were reversed?"

Gilan suddenly barked out a laugh.

"He's got you there, Halt," the handsome young Ranger added. Halt glared at him.

"By Gorlog's beard, he does," the grizzled Ranger spat. "If I knew it was best for me, I would certainly take it easy for a few days."

He turned away, expected laughter at the obvious lie. But neither Gilan nor Will made a sound. Curiously, he glanced back at them, only to find that they were both staring at him in an extremely familiar expression, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh cut that out," he said. "Alright, maybe I wouldn't. But that's besides the point. You are still my apprentice, Will. And you're to do as I say."

Will hesitated. Halt had him pinned, there. Without the formal silver oakleaf, he knew that he was still technically subjected to Halt's authority, no matter how close to graduating he was. Still, he also knew that this was one point he could afford to press.

"Please, Halt," he said, his voice barely a whisper. He hated having to appear so weak and pleading in front of Annalise and George, or even Gilan. It made him feel as if he was a fifteen year old boy again, back in his first year of training. And yet, he knew that being honest was the only way to get Halt to relent.

"It's eating me up just sitting here," he continued slowly, hating that his voice wavered slightly. "All I can do is sit and think about what's going to happen if I can't get better. About the fact that if my leg doesn't heal, all of this training, everything you've striven to teach me, will have been for nothing. It's bad enough that I failed my first solo mission, but now I-"

"Woah!" A torrent of exclamations and protests cut off Will's next word. He glanced around in shock. Not only had Halt and Gilan cried out at Will's words, but so had George.

"Failed your solo mission?" Gilan asked incredulously. "Will, who on earth put that idea in your head?"

Will hesitated.

"Well..." he began uncertainly. "I didn't get George home safely. That was my mission, and I failed to do that. So..."

Will glanced at Halt, seeing his mentor shaking his head, and let his voice trail off.

"Will, you most certainly did not fail this," Halt assured him. "This mission was much more than anyone had assumed. Had Crowley known that the Outsiders were involved, he never would have given you this as your first solo mission. And had I known, I never would have let you come alone."

Will took a moment to process the words.

"So..." he said slowly. "I didn't fail? This won't go on my record as a failure?"

Halt shook his head firmly.

"No," he said. "It most certainly will not. As far as I'm concerned, you've exceeded what any of us would have expected of someone so young and new at this to have done in this situation."

"Not to mention," George suddenly piped in with a high pitched voice. "Your mission, as I understand it, was to rescue me. Nothing more or less. Speaking in strictly technical terms, you did just that. Of course, an argument could be made against that, but I firmly believe your case would go through."

Gilan and Halt nodded their agreement, albeit slowly after having to decipher George's fanciful wording. Will glanced among the three of them, finally nodding to himself.

"Alright," he said, allowing his friends' words to comfort him.

"Of course, that doesn't change the fact that you still need to rest," Halt added meaningfully. Will nodded again, obediently sinking back to his bedroll.

"Fine," he said. "But could I at least cook dinner tonight? I feel so useless sitting here having everything done for me."

Halt pretended to consider the question, finally nodding.

"Yes," he decided. "I think your cooking skills would be a nice change from Gilan's."

Gilan's head shot up from where he'd been kindling the fire. He assumed a hurt expression.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. Halt merely shrugged.

"Nothing," he replied casually. "Just that your cooking tastes like what I imagine Ableard's dung would taste like."

Gilan glared at his mentor.

"Keep it up," he said in mock anger, "and you'll either be cooking for yourself, or you'll be invited to find out if that's true."