Oakleaf Bearers

10

"Y OU REALLY MEAN H ORACE IS SOME KIND OF HERO IN G ALLICA?" Will asked incredulously, not totally sure that Halt and Horace weren't pulling off some kind of enormous practical joke. But the grizzled Ranger was nodding his head emphatically.

"A regular figure of respect," he said. Evanlyn turned to the muscular young warrior and leaned forward to touch his hand lightly.

"I can believe it," she said. "Did you see the way he took care of that Temujai soldier who was trying to kill me?" Her eyes were alight with an unusual warmth and Will, noticing it, felt a sudden stab of jealousy for his old friend. Then he pushed the unworthy thought aside.

Halt had been unwilling to remain too close to the Temujai campsite. There was no telling how far away the main force might be and there was always the possibility that the two men who had escaped might lead others back to the spot.

They had retraced the path Halt and Horace had followed, moving back toward the border crossing where they had discovered the first evidence of the Temujai assault. Around the middle of the day, they found a spot on a hilltop with a good view of the surrounding terrain and a saucer-shaped depression that would keep them hidden from sight. Here, they could see without being seen, and Halt decided to camp there while he made up his mind as to their next move.

They had built a small fire, screened by a grove of young pines, and prepared a meal.

Evanlyn and Will fell ravenously on the savory stew that the Ranger had prepared and for a while there was silence, broken only by the sound of dedicated eating.

Then the old friends began to catch up on the events that had taken place since the final confrontation with the Wargal army on the Plains of Uthal. Will's jaw had dropped with amazement as Halt described how Horace had defeated the terrifying Lord Morgarath in single combat.

Horace looked suitably embarrassed and Halt, sensing this, described the combat in a lighthearted tone, jokingly implying that the boy had stumbled clumsily and fallen under the oncoming hooves of Morgarath's battlehorse, rather than choosing to do so as a deliberate last throw of the dice to unseat his opponent. The apprentice warrior blushed and pointed out that his final ploy-the double knife defense-had been taught to him by Gilan and that he and Will had spent hours practicing the skill on their trip through Celtica. He made it sound as if, somehow, Will deserved some share of the credit for his victory. As he spoke, Will leaned back comfortably against a log and thought how much Horace had changed. Once his sworn enemy when they were both growing up as castle wards, Horace had since become his closest friend.

Well, one of his closest friends, he thought, as he felt a shaggy head butt insistently against his shoulder. He twisted around, reaching out one hand to stroke Tug's ears and scratch the spot between them the way the little horse enjoyed. Tug let go a low snuffle of pleasure at the touch of his master's hand. Since they had been reunited, the horse had refused to stray more than a meter or two from Will's presence.

Halt looked at the two of them now, across the campfire, and smiled inwardly. He felt an enormous sense of relief now that he had finally found his apprentice. A weight of self-blame had lifted from him, for he had suffered greatly in the long months since he had watched the wolfship sailing away from the Araluen coast with Will on board. He felt he had failed the youngster, that he had somehow betrayed him. Now that the boy was safely back in his care, he was filled with a deep sense of well-being. Admittedly, the events of the past day had also left a new worry gnawing at the back of his mind, but for the moment, that could wait while he enjoyed the reunion.

"Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?" he said with mock severity. "Otherwise he'll wind up believing that he's one of us."

"He's been driving Halt crazy since we first found your tracks," Horace put in. "He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn't realize it."

At that, Halt raised an eyebrow. "Halt didn't realize it?" he repeated. "And I suppose you did?"

Horace shrugged. "I'm just a warrior," he replied. "I'm not supposed to be a thinker. I leave that to you Rangers."

"I must admit it had me puzzled," Halt said. "I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that. Even when I ordered him to calm down and be silent, I could tell there was something on his mind. When you first stepped out of the trees to shoot, I thought he was going to take off after you."

Will continued to rub the shaggy head as it leaned down to him. He smiled broadly around the campsite. Now that Halt was here and he was surrounded by his closest friends, he felt safe and secure once more-a sensation he hadn't enjoyed in over a year. He smiled at the Ranger, relieved that Halt had been pleased with his actions. Evanlyn had described their journey across the Stormwhite Sea, and the series of events that had led to their arrival at Hallasholm.

Horace had looked at Will with open admiration as she described the way he had humbled the wolfship captain Slagor in the drafty, smoky cabin on the barren island where they had sheltered from the Stormwhite's worst excesses. Halt had merely studied his apprentice with a keen glance and nodded once. That single movement meant more to Will than volumes of praise from anyone else-particularly since he wasn't terribly proud of the way things had turned out at Hallasholm, and his subsequent addiction to warmweed. He had been fearful that Halt would disapprove, but when Evanlyn had spoken of her near despair when she had found him in the yard slaves' compound, mindless and unthinking, the Ranger had merely nodded once more and uttered a curse under his breath at people who would inflict such a substance on others. His eyes had met Will's anxious gaze across the fire and Will had seen a deep, deep sadness there.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," his master said softly, and Will knew that everything would be all right.

Eventually, they had talked their fill. There would be details that could be filled in over the coming weeks, and there were items that they had forgotten. But in general terms, they were up to date with one another.

There was, however, one aspect of Halt's story that hadn't been revealed. Neither Will nor Evanlyn had learned of Halt's banishment, or his expulsion from the Ranger Corps.

As the shadows lengthened, Halt moved once more to the spot where their captive was tied hand and foot. He loosened the bonds for a few minutes, first the hands, then the feet, retying the hands before he released the second set of bonds. The Temujai warrior grunted a brief appreciation of the temporary relief. Halt had already done this several times during the afternoon, ensuring that the man wasn't permanently disabled by the restriction of the flow of blood to his hands and feet.

It also gave him an opportunity to make sure the man's bonds were tight and that he hadn't managed to loosen them or wriggle free. Knowing he would receive no reply, Halt asked the man for his name and his military unit. Although he spoke the Temujai tongue with reasonable fluency, having spent several years among the People, as they called themselves, he saw no reason to apprise the prisoner of that fact. As a consequence, Halt used the trader's language common to all the people of the Hemisphere-a melange of Gallic, Teuton and Temujai words in a simple, pidgin-language structure that took no notice of grammar or syntax.

As he had expected, the Tem'uj simply ignored his overtures. Halt shrugged and moved away, deep in thought. Horace was sitting by the fireplace, carefully cleaning and oiling his sword. Evanlyn was in the sentry position at the brow of the hilltop, keeping watch over the hillside below them. She would be due to be relieved in another half hour, he thought idly. As Halt paced back and forth, turning over the problem that taxed his mind, he became aware of another presence beside him. He glanced around and smiled to see Will pacing with him, wrapped in the gray mottled Ranger cloak that Halt had carried with him, along with the bow he'd made and a saxe knife. The double-knife scabbards were a Ranger-issued item of equipment and Halt, expelled from the Corps, had been unable to find one for the boy. As yet, Will hadn't remarked on the fact.

"What's the problem, Halt?" the young man asked now.

Halt stopped pacing to face him, his eyebrow arcing in an expression that was familiar to Will.

"Problem?" he repeated. Will grinned at him, refusing to be put off, refusing to be diverted. He's grown up a lot in the past year, Halt thought, remembering how that response would once have left the boy confused and disconcerted.

"When you pace back and forth like a caged tiger, it usually means you're trying to think through a problem of some kind," Will said. Halt pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"And I suppose you've seen so many tigers in your time?" he asked. "Caged and otherwise?"

Will's grin widened a little. "And when you try to distract me from my question by asking a question back, I know you're thinking over some problem," he added. Halt finally gave in. He had no idea that his habits had become so easy to interpret. He made a mental note to change things, then wondered if he wasn't getting too old to do so.

"Well, yes," he replied. "I must admit I do have something on my mind. Nothing major. Don't let it worry you."

"What is it?" said his apprentice bluntly, and Halt cocked his head sideways.

"You see," he explained, "when I say 'don't let it worry you,' I mean, there's no real need for us to discuss it."

"I know that," said his apprentice. "But what is it anyway?"

Halt drew a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "I seem to remember that I once had much more authority than I seem to have these days," he said to no one in particular. Then, realizing that Will was still waiting expectantly, he relented.

"It's these Temujai," he said. "I'd like to know what they're up to." He glanced across their campsite to where the Tem'uj was sitting, securely bound. "And I've got a snowball's chance in a forest fire of finding out from our friend there."

Will shrugged. "Is it really any of our concern?" he asked. "After all, surely we can leave them and the Skandians to fight it out."

Halt considered this, scratching at his chin with forefinger and thumb. "I take it you're thinking along the lines of the old saying 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" he said. Will shrugged once again.

"I wasn't thinking of it in those words exactly," he said. "But it does sum the situation up pretty well, don't you think? If the Skandians are kept busy fighting these Temujai, then they won't be able to bother us with their coastal raids, will they?"

"That's true, up to a point," Halt admitted. "But there is another old saying: 'Rather the devil you know.' Have you ever heard that one?"

"Yes. So you're saying that these Temujai could be a lot more of a problem than the Skandians?"

"Oh yes indeed. If they defeat the Skandians, there's nothing to stop them from moving on Teutlandt, Gallica, and finally Araluen."

"But they'd have to beat the Skandians first, wouldn't they?" Will said. He knew, from firsthand experience, that the Skandians were fierce, fearless warriors. He could see them forming an effective buffer between the invading Temujai and the other western nations, with both sides ending up severely weakened by the war and neither presenting a threat in the near future. It was a perfect strategic position, he told himself comfortably. Halt's next words made him feel considerably less comfortable.

"Oh, they'll defeat them, all right. Make no mistake about that. It will be a savage, bloody war, but the Temujai will win."