The Ruins of Gorlan

Chapter 12

Halt examined the target Will had been shooting at, and nodded.

"Not bad at all," he said. "Your shooting is definitely improving." Will couldn't help grinning. That was high praise indeed from Halt. Halt saw the expression and immediately added, "With more practice – a lot more practice – you might even achieve mediocrity."

Will wasn't absolutely sure what mediocrity was, but he sensed it wasn't good. The grin faded and Halt dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand.

"That's enough shooting for now. Let's go," he said and set off, striding down a narrow path through the forest.

"Where are we going?" Will asked, half running to keep up with the Ranger's longer strides.

Halt looked up at the trees above him.

"Why does this boy ask so many questions?" he asked the trees. Naturally, they didn't answer.

They walked for an hour before they came to a small collection of buildings buried deep in the forest.

Will was aching to ask more questions. But he'd learned by now that Halt wasn't going to answer them, so he held his tongue and bided his time. Sooner or later, he knew, he'd learn why they'd come here. Halt led the way up to the largest of the ramshackle huts, then stopped, signaling for Will to do likewise.

"Hullo, Old Bob!" he called.

Will heard someone moving inside the hut, then a wrinkled, bent figure appeared in the doorway. His beard was long and matted and a dirty white color. He was almost completely bald. As he moved toward them, grinning and nodding a greeting to Halt, Will caught his breath. Old Bob smelled like a stable. And a none too clean one at that.

"Morning to you, Ranger!" said Old Bob. "Who's this you've brung to see me?" He looked keenly at Will. The eyes were bright and very alert, despite his dirty, unkempt appearance.

"This is Will, my new apprentice," said Halt. "Will, this is Old Bob"

"Good morning, sir," said Will politely. The old man cackled. "Calls me sir! Hear that, Ranger, calls me sir! Make a fine Ranger, this one will!" Will smiled at him. Dirty as he might be, there was something likable about Old Bob – perhaps it was the fact that he seemed to be in no way overawed by Halt. Will couldn't remember seeing anyone speaking to the grim-faced Ranger in quite this familiar tone before. Halt grunted impatiently.

"Are they ready?" he asked. The old man cackled again and nodded several times.

"Ready they are indeed!" he said. "Step this way and see them." He led them to the back of the hut, where a small paddock was fenced off. At the far side, there was a lean-to shed. Just a roof and supporting posts. No walls. Old Bob let out a piercing whistle that made Will jump.

"There they are, see?" he said, pointing to the lean-to.

Will looked and saw two small horses trotting across the yard to greet the old man. As they came closer, he realized that one was a horse, the other was a pony. But both were small, shaggy animals, nothing like the fierce, sleek battlehorses that the Baron and his knights rode to war.

The larger of the two trotted immediately to Halt's side. He patted its neck and handed it an apple from a bin close by the fence. The horse crunched it gratefully. Halt leaned forward and said a few words into its ear. The horse tossed its head and neighed, as if it were sharing some private joke with the Ranger.

The pony waited by Old Bob until he had given it an apple to crunch as well. Then it turned one large, intelligent eye on Will. "This 'un's called Tug," said the old man. "He looks about your size, don't he?" He passed the rope bridle to Will, who took it and looked into the horse's eyes. He was a shaggy little beast. His legs were short, but sturdy. His body was barrel shaped. His mane and tail were ragged and unbrushed. All in all, as horses went, he wasn't a very impressive sight, thought Will.

He'd always dreamt of the horse he would one day ride into battle: in those dreams, the horse was tall and majestic. It was fierce and jet black, combed and brushed until it shone like black armor.

This horse almost seemed to sense what he was thinking and butted its head gently against his shoulder.

I may not be very big, its eyes seemed to say, but I might just surprise you.

"Well," said Halt. "What do you think of him?" He was fondling the other horse's soft nose. They were obviously old friends. Will hesitated. He didn't want to offend anyone.

"He's sort of… small," he said finally.

"So are you," Halt pointed out. Will couldn't think of an answer to that. Old Bob wheezed with laughter.

"He ain't no battlehorse, are he, boy?" he asked.

"Well… no, he isn't," Will said awkwardly. He liked Bob and he felt any criticism of the pony might be taken personally. But Old Bob simply laughed again.

"But he'll run any of those fine fancy-looking battlehorses into the ground!" he said proudly. "He's a strong'un, this 'un. He'll keep going all day, long after them fancy horses have laid down and died." Will looked at the shaggy little animal doubtfully.

"I'm sure he will," he said politely.

Halt leaned against the paddock fence.

"Why don't you see?" he suggested. "You're fast on your feet. Turn him loose and see if you can capture him again." Will sensed the challenge in the Ranger's voice. He dropped the rope bridle. The horse, as if realizing that this was some sort of test, skipped lightly away into the center of the small enclosure. Will ducked under the fence rails and walked softly toward the pony. He held out his hand invitingly. "Come on, boy," he said. "Stand still there." He reached out his hand for the bridle and the little horse suddenly wheeled away. It shied to one side, then the other, then sidestepped neatly around Will and danced backward out of reach.

He tried again. Again, the horse evaded him easily. Will was beginning to feel foolish. He advanced on the horse and it backed away, moving closer and closer to one of the corners. Then, just when Will thought he had it, it nimbly danced to one side and was away again.

Will lost his temper now and ran after it. The horse whinnied in amusement and romped easily out of his reach. It was enjoying this game.

And so it went. Will would approach, the horse would duck and dodge and escape. Even in the close confines of the small paddock, he couldn't catch it.

He stopped. He was conscious of the fact that Halt was watching him carefully. He thought for a moment or two. There must be a way to do it. He'd never catch a horse as light on its feet and fast-moving as this one. There must be another way…His gaze fell on the bin of apples outside the fence. Quickly, he ducked under the rail and seized an apple. Then he went back into the paddock and stood stock-still, holding the apple out.

"Come on, boy," he said.

Tug's ears shot up. He liked apples. He also thought he liked this boy-he played this game well. Tossing his head approvingly, he trotted forward and took the apple delicately. Will seized hold of the bridle and the pony crunched the apple. If a horse could be said to look blissful, this one did.

Will looked up and saw Halt nodding approval.

"Well thought out," said the Ranger. Old Bob elbowed the gray-cloaked man in the ribs.

"Clever boy, that!" he cackled. "Clever and polite! That 'un'll make a good team with Tug, won't he?" Will patted the shaggy neck and the pricked-up ears. He looked now at the old man.

"Why do you call him Tug?" he asked.

Instantly, Will's arm was nearly torn from its socket as the pony jerked its head back. Will staggered, then regained his balance. Old Bob's braying laugh rang out around the clearing.

"See if you can guess!" he said delightedly.

His laughter was infectious and Will couldn't help smiling himself. Halt glanced up at the sun, which was fast disappearing behind the trees that fringed Old Bob's clearing and the meadows beyond.

"Take him over to the lean-to and Bob can show you how to groom him and look after his tack," he said, then added to the old man, "We'll stay with you tonight, Bob, if that's not inconvenient?" The old horse handler nodded his head in pleasure. "I'll be glad of the company, Ranger. Sometimes I spend so much time with the horses that I start to think I'm one myself." Unconsciously, he dipped a hand into the apple barrel and selected one, absentmindedly crunching into it-much as Tug had done a few minutes earlier. Halt watched him, one eyebrow raised.

"We might be just in time," he observed dryly. "Then, tomorrow, we'll see if Will can ride Tug as well as catch him," he said, guessing as he said it that his apprentice would get very little sleep that night.

He was right. Old Bob's tiny cabin had only two rooms, so after their supper, Halt stretched out on the floor by the fireplace and Will bedded down in the warm, clean straw of the barn, listening to the gentle whiffling sounds of the two horses. The moon rose and fell as he lay wide awake, wondering and worrying over what the next day might bring. Would he be able to ride Tug? He'd never ridden a horse. Would he fall off the minute he tried? Would he be hurt? Worse still, would he embarrass himself? He liked Old Bob and he didn't want to look foolish in front of him. Nor in front of Halt, he realized, with a little surprise. He was still wondering when Halt's good opinion had come to mean so much to him when he finally fell asleep.