The Ruins of Gorlan

Chapter 17

SNOW LAY THICK ON THE GROUND AS WILL AND HALT RODE slowly home from the forest.

The situation between Will and Horace remained unresolved as time had passed. There had been little chance for the two boys to resume the argument, as their respective masters kept them busy and their paths seldom crossed.

Will had seen the apprentice warrior occasionally, but always at a distance.

They hadn't spoken or even had the chance to acknowledge each other's presence. But the ill feeling was still there, Will knew, and one day it would come to a head.

Strangely, he found that the prospect didn't disturb him nearly as much as it might have a few months ago. It was not that he looked forward to renewing the fight with Horace, but he found he could face the idea with a certain amount of equanimity. He felt a deep satisfaction when he recalled that good, solid punch he had landed on Horace's nose. He also realized, with a slight sense of surprise, that the memory of the incident was made more enjoyable by the fact that it had happened in the presence of Jenny and-this was where the surprise lay-Alyss. Inconclusive as the event might have been, there was still a lot about it to set Will thinking and remembering.

But not right now, he realized, as Halt's angry tone dragged him back to the present.

"Could we possibly continue with our tracking, or did you have something more important to do?" he inquired. Instantly, Will cast around, trying to see what Halt had pointed out. As they rode through the crisp, white snow, their horses' hooves making only the smallest of sounds, Halt had been pointing to disturbances in the even white cover. They were tracks left by animals and it was Will's task to identify them. He had sharp eyes and a good mind for the task. He normally enjoyed these tracking lessons, but now his attention had wandered and he had no idea where he was supposed to be looking.

"There," Halt said, his tone leaving no doubt that he didn't expect to have to repeat such things, as he pointed to the left. Will stood in his stirrups to see the disturbed snow more clearly. "Rabbit," he said promptly. Halt turned to look sidelong at him.

"Rabbit?" he asked, and Will looked again, correcting himself almost immediately.

"Rabbits," he said, stressing the plural ending. Halt insisted on accuracy.

"I should think so," Halt muttered at him. "After all, if they were Skandian tracks there, you'd need to be sure you knew how many there were."

"I suppose so," said Will, meekly. "You suppose so!" Halt replied sarcastically. "Believe me, Will, there's a big difference between knowing there's one Skandian about and knowing that there are half a dozen."

Will nodded apologetically. One of the changes that had come over their relationship lately was the fact that Halt almost never referred to him as "boy" anymore. These days, it was always "Will." Will liked that. It made him feel that somehow he'd been accepted by the grim-faced Ranger. All the same, he did wish that Halt would smile once or twice when he said it.

Or even once.

Halt's low voice snapped him out of his daydreaming.

"So… rabbits. Is that all?" Will looked again. In the disturbed snow, difficult to see, but there now that Halt had pointed it out to him, was another set of tracks.

"A stoat!" he said triumphantly and Halt nodded again.

"A stoat," he agreed. "But you should have known there was something else there, Will. Look at how deep those rabbit tracks are. It's obvious that something had frightened them. When you see a sign like that, it's a hint to look for something extra."

"I see," said Will. But Halt shook his head.

"No. All too often, you don't see, because you don't maintain your concentration. You'll have to work on that."

Will said nothing. He merely accepted the criticism. He'd learned by now that Halt didn't criticize without reason. And when there was reason, no amount of excuses could save him.

They rode on in silence. Will strained his eyes at the ground around them, looking for more tracks, more animal signs. They went another kilometer or so and were starting to see some of the familiar landmarks that told him he was close to their cottage when he saw something.

"Look!" he cried, pointing to a tumbled section of snow just off the path. "What's that?"

Halt turned to look. The tracks, if they were tracks, were like no others that Will had seen so far. The Ranger urged his horse nearer to the edge of the path and looked more closely.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "That's one I haven't shown you yet. Don't see too many of them these days, so take a good look, Will."

He swung easily down from the saddle and walked through the knee-deep snow toward the disturbance. Will followed him.

"What is it?" the boy asked.

"Wild boar," said Halt briefly. "And a big one."

Will glanced nervously around them. He mightn't know what a wild boar's tracks looked like in the snow, but he knew enough about the creatures to know they were very, very dangerous.

Halt noticed the look and made a reassuring movement with his hand. "Relax," he said. "He's nowhere near us."

"Can you tell that from the tracks?" Will asked. He stared, fascinated, at the snow. The deep ruts and furrows had obviously been made by a very large animal. And it looked as if it were a very large, very angry animal.

"No," said Halt evenly. "I can tell it from our horses. If a boar that size were anywhere in the district, those two would be snuffing and pawing and whinnying so hard, we wouldn't be able to hear ourselves think."

"Oh," said Will, feeling a little foolish. He relaxed the grip that he'd taken on his bow. However, in spite of the Ranger's assurances, he couldn't resist taking just one more look around behind them. And as he did so, his heart began pounding faster and faster.

The thick undergrowth on the other side of the track was moving, ever so slightly. Normally, he might have passed the movement off as due to the breeze, but his training with Halt had heightened his reasoning and his observation. At the moment, there was no breeze. Not the slightest breath.

But still, the bushes continued to move.

Will's hand went slowly to his quiver. Moving deliberately, so as to avoid startling the creature in the bushes, he drew an arrow and placed it on the string of his bow.

"Halt?" He tried to keep his voice down, but couldn't prevent it from quaking just a little. He wondered if his bow would stop a charging boar. He didn't think so.

Halt looked around, his gaze taking in the arrow nocked to Will's bowstring and noting the direction in which Will was looking.

"I hope you're not thinking of shooting the poor old farmer who's hiding behind those bushes," he said seriously. Yet he pitched his voice so that it carried clearly across the track to the thick clump of bushes on the other side.

Instantly, there was a scuffle of movement from the bush and Will heard a nervous voice crying out:

"Don't shoot, good sir! Please, don't shoot! It's only me!"

The bushes parted as a disheveled and frightened-looking old man stood up and hurried forward. His haste was his undoing, however, as his foot caught in a tangle of underbrush and he sprawled forward onto the snow. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet, hands held out, palms first, to show that he carried no weapons. As he came, he continued a nonstop babble of words:

"Only me, sir! No need for shootin', sir! Only me, I swear, and I'm no danger to the likes of you!"

He hurried forward into the center of the track, his eyes fixed on the bow in Will's hands and the gleaming, razor-sharp tip of the arrow. Slowly, Will released the tension on the string and lowered the bow as he took a closer look at the interloper. He was skinny in the extreme. Dressed in a ragged and dirty farmer's smock, he had long, awkward arms and legs and knobby elbows and knees. His beard was gray and matted and he was going bald on top of his head.

The man stopped a few meters from them and smiled nervously at the two cloaked figures.

"Only me," he repeated, one last time.