Ranger's Apprentice 1 & 2 Bindup by John Flanagan
As he began the movement, Will released his arrow.
The shaft hissed through the air past the tall Ranger and thudded, quivering, into the tree that Will had selected. Gilan jerked back with shock, then his eyes swung into the branches of the tree where Will stood concealed. Will marvelled that, even caught by surprise as he was, Gilan was still able to react so quickly in identifying the direction from which his attacker had shot.
Gilan shook his head ruefully. His keen eyes could make out the small grey and green clad figure concealed in the shadows of the tree’s foliage.
‘Come down, Will,’ Halt called. ‘And meet Gilan, one of our more careless Rangers.’ He shook his head at Gilan. ‘I told you when you were a boy, didn’t I? Never be too hasty. Don’t rush into things.’
Gilan nodded, somewhat crestfallen. He looked even more so when Will dropped to the ground from the lowest branch and the tall Ranger saw how small and young the apprentice was.
‘It appears,’ he said, ‘that I was so intent on catching myself an old grey fox that I overlooked the small monkey hiding in the trees.’ He grinned at his own mistake.
‘Monkey, is it?’ Halt said gruffly. ‘I’d say he’s made a monkey out of you today. Will, this is Gilan, my former apprentice and now Ranger of Meric Fief – although what they did to deserve him is beyond me.’
Gilan’s grin widened and he held out his hand to Will.
‘And just as I was thinking I’d finally got the better of you, Halt,’ he said cheerfully. ‘So you’re Will,’ he continued, shaking hands firmly. ‘I’m pleased to meet you. That was a neat piece of work, young fellow.’
Will grinned at Halt and the older Ranger made a slight, meaningful movement of his head. Will remembered the final instructions that Halt had given him the night before: Once you best a man, never gloat. Be generous and find something in his actions to praise. He won’t enjoy being bested but he’ll make a good face of it. Show him you appreciate it. Praise can win you a friend. Gloating will only ever make enemies.
‘Yes, I’m Will,’ he said. Then he added, ‘Could you perhaps teach me how you move like that? It was brilliant.’
Gilan laughed ruefully. ‘Not too brilliant, I think. You obviously saw me coming from a long way away.’
Will shook his head, remembering how hard he’d tried to spot Gilan. Now that he thought of it, his praise and his request were more genuine than he’d realised.
‘I saw you when you arrived,’ he said. ‘And I saw where you’d been. But I never once saw you from the time you rounded that bend. I wish I could move like that.’
Gilan’s face showed his pleasure at Will’s obvious sincerity.
‘Well, Halt,’ he said, ‘I see this young fellow doesn’t merely have talent. He has excellent manners as well.’
Halt regarded the two of them: his current apprentice and his former student. He nodded to Will, approving his tactful words.
‘Unseen movement was always Gilan’s best skill,’ he said. ‘You’d do well if he agreed to tutor you.’ He moved towards his ex-apprentice and placed his arm around the taller man’s shoulders. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
They embraced each other warmly. Then Halt held the other man at arm’s length, studying him carefully.
‘You get lankier every year,’ he said finally. ‘When are you going to put some meat on those bones?’
Gilan smiled. It was obviously an old joke between them.
‘You appear to have enough for both of us,’ he said. He poked Halt in the ribs, none too gently. ‘Is that the beginnings of a pot belly I see there?’ He grinned at Will. ‘I’ll wager he’s sitting around the cabin letting you do all the housework these days?’
Before Halt or Will could reply, he turned away and let out a whistle. A few seconds later, his horse trotted round the bend in the road. As the tall young Ranger moved towards his horse and mounted, Will noticed a sword hanging in a scabbard from the saddle. He turned to Halt, puzzled.
‘I thought we weren’t allowed to have swords?’ he said quietly. Halt frowned for a moment, not understanding, then followed Will’s gaze and realised what had prompted the question.
‘It’s not that we’re not allowed,’ he explained, as they both mounted. ‘It’s a matter of priorities. It takes years to become a good swordsman and we don’t have the time. We have other skills to develop.’
He saw the next question forming on Will’s lips and went on. ‘Gilan’s father is a knight, so Gilan had already been training with the sword for some years before he joined the Rangers. He was considered a special case and he was allowed to continue that training when he was apprenticed to me.’
‘But I thought …’ Will began and then hesitated. Gilan was trotting his horse towards them and he wasn’t sure if it would be polite to ask his next question in front of him.
‘Never say that in front of Halt,’ Gilan said, overhearing Will’s last words. ‘He’ll simply reply, “You’re an apprentice. You’re not ready to think” or “If you thought about it, you wouldn’t ask”.’
Will had to smile. Halt had used those exact words to him on more than one occasion and Gilan’s impersonation of the older Ranger was uncanny. Now, however, both men were looking expectantly at him, waiting to hear the question he had been about to ask, so he plunged ahead.
‘If Gilan’s father was a knight, wasn’t he automatically eligible for Battleschool? Or did they think he was too small as well?’
Halt and Gilan exchanged a look. Halt raised one eyebrow, then gestured for Gilan to reply.
‘I could have gone to Battleschool,’ he said. ‘But I chose to join the Rangers.’
‘Some of us do, you know,’ Halt put in mildly. Will thought this over. He had always assumed that the Rangers did not come from the ranks of the Kingdom’s nobles. Apparently he was wrong.
‘But I thought …’ he began and instantly realised his mistake. Halt and Gilan looked at him, then looked at each other, and said in chorus:
‘You’re an apprentice. You’re not ready to think.’
Then they wheeled their horses and trotted off. Will hurriedly retrieved Tug and cantered after them. As he caught up, the two Rangers edged their horses to either side, allowing him space to ride between them. Gilan grinned once at him. Halt was as grim as ever. But as they continued in a companionable silence, Will became aware of the comforting realisation that he was now a part of an exclusive, tightly knit group.
It was a warm sense of belonging, as if, somehow, he had arrived home for the first time in his life.
‘Something’s happened,’ Halt said quietly, signalling for his two companions to rein in their horses.
The three riders had cantered the last half a kilometre to the Gathering Ground. Now, as they crested a slight rise, the open space among the trees lay just below them, a hundred metres away. Small, one-man tents stretched in ordered ranks, and the smoke of cooking fires scented the air. An archery range had been set up to one side of the open space and several dozen horses, all small and shaggy Ranger horses, were grazing close to the trees.
Even from where they sat on their horses, they could make out an air of urgency and activity throughout the camp. In the centre of the tent lines was a larger pavilion, easily four metres by four metres and with enough headroom for a tall man to stand. The sides were currently rolled up and Will could see a group of green and grey clad men standing round a table, apparently deep in conversation. As they watched, one of the group detached himself, running to a horse waiting just outside the entrance. He mounted and spun the horse on its back legs, setting out through the camp at a gallop, heading for the narrow track through the trees at the far side.
He had barely disappeared into the deep shadows under the trees when another rider appeared from the opposite direction, galloping through the lines and reining in outside the large tent. His horse had barely stopped before he swung down and headed in to join the group inside.
‘What is it?’ Will asked. Fr
‘Not sure,’ Halt replied. He gestured to the tent lines. ‘See if you can find us a decent camp site. I’ll see what’s going on.’
He urged Abelard forward, then turned and called back: ‘Don’t pitch the tents yet. From the looks of things, we may not be needing them.’ Then Abelard’s hooves were drumming on the turf as he galloped towards the centre of the camp.
Will and Gilan found a camp site under a large tree, reasonably close to the central gathering area. Then, uncertain as to what they should do next, they sat on a log, waiting for Halt’s return. As a senior Ranger in the Corps, Halt had access to the larger pavilion, which Gilan explained was the command tent. The Corps Commandant, a Ranger named Crowley, would meet with his staff there each day to organise activities and to collate and evaluate the reports and information that individual Rangers brought to the Gathering.
Most of the tents near the two younger Rangers were unoccupied, but there was a thin gangly Ranger outside one, pacing impatiently back and forth, looking every bit as confused as Gilan and Will. Seeing them on the log, he moved over to join them.
‘Any news?’ he said immediately, and his face fell when Gilan answered.
‘We were just about to ask you the same question.’ He held out his hand in greeting. ‘It’s Merron, isn’t it?’ he said and they shook hands.
‘That’s right. And you’re Gilan if I remember correctly.’ Gilan introduced Will, and the newcomer, who appeared to be in his early thirties, looked at him speculatively.
‘So you’re Halt’s new apprentice,’ he said. ‘We wondered what you’d be like. I was going to be one of your assessors, you know.’
‘Going to be?’ Gilan asked quickly, and Merron looked at him.
‘Yes. I doubt we’ll continue with the Gathering now.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘You mean you haven’t heard?’ The two newcomers shook their heads.
‘Morgarath is up to something again,’ he said quietly and Will felt a shiver of fear up his spine at the mention of that evil name.
‘What’s happened?’ Gilan asked, his eyes narrowing. Merron shook his head, stirring the dirt in front of him with the toe of his boot in a frustrated gesture.
‘There’s no clear news so far. Only garbled reports. But it looks as if a force of Wargals broke out of Three Step Pass some days ago. They overran the sentries there and headed north.’
‘Was Morgarath with them?’ Gilan asked. Will remained wide-eyed and silent. He couldn’t bring himself to ask any questions, couldn’t bring himself to actually mention Morgarath’s name.
Merron shrugged in reply. ‘We don’t know. Don’t think so at this stage, but Crowley has been sending scouts out for the past two days. Could be it’s just a raid. But if it’s more than that, it could mean the start of another war. If so, it’s a bad time to lose Lord Lorriac.’
Gilan looked up, concern in his voice. ‘Lorriac is dead?’ he asked and Merron nodded.
‘A stroke apparently. Or his heart. He was found dead a few days ago, with not a mark on him. Staring straight ahead. Stone cold dead.’
‘But he was in his prime!’ Gilan said. ‘I saw him only a month ago and he was as healthy as a bull.’
Merron shrugged. He had no explanation. He only knew the facts of the matter. ‘I suppose it can happen to anyone,’ he said. ‘You just never know.’
‘Who’s Lord Lorriac?’ Will asked Gilan quietly. The young Ranger shook his head thoughtfully as he answered.
‘Lorriac of Steden. He was the leader of the King’s heavy cavalry. Probably our best cavalry commander. As Merron said, if there’s war, he’ll be sorely missed.’
A cold hand of fear closed around Will’s heart. All his life people had spoken in whispers of Morgarath, if they had spoken of him at all. The Great Enemy had assumed the proportions almost of a myth – a legend from the old, dark days. Now the myth was becoming reality once more – a confronting, terrifying reality. He looked at Gilan for reassurance but the young Ranger’s handsome face showed nothing but doubt and concern for the future.
It was a most an hour before Halt rejoined them. As it was after midday, Will and Gilan had prepared a meal of bread, cold meat and dried fruit. The grey-haired Ranger slid down from Abelard’s saddle and accepted a plate from Will, eating the food in quick bites.
‘The Gathering’s over,’ he said shortly, between mouthfuls. Seeing the senior Ranger’s arrival, Merron had drifted back to join their group. He and Halt greeted each other briefly then Merron posed the question that was on all their minds.
‘Is it war?’ he asked anxiously and Halt shook his head.
‘We don’t know for certain. Latest reports show that Morgarath is still in the mountains.’
‘Then why did the Wargals break out?’ Will asked. Everyone knew that Wargals only did the will of Morgarath. They never would have performed such a radical act without his direction. Halt’s face was grim as he answered.
‘They’re only a small party – perhaps fifty of them. They were intended to act as a diversion. While our guards were busy chasing the Wargals, Crowley thinks that the two Kalkara slipped out of the Mountains and are holed up somewhere on the Solitary Plain.’
Gilan gave a low whistle. Merron actually took a step back in surprise. Both the younger Rangers’ faces showed their utter horror at the news. Will had no idea what the Kalkara might be but, judging from Halt’s expression and the reactions of Gilan and Merron, they were obviously not good news.
‘You mean they still exist?’ Merron said, ‘I thought they died out years ago.’
‘Oh, they still exist all right,’ Halt said. ‘There are only two of them left, but that’s enough to worry about.’
There was a long silence between them. Finally, hesitantly, Will had to ask:
‘What are they?’
Halt shook his head sadly. It was not a subject that he wanted to discuss with someone as young as Will. But, knowing what lay ahead of them all, he had no choice. The boy had to know.
‘When Morgarath was planning his rebellion, he wanted more than an ordinary army. He knew that if he could terrify his enemies, his task would be far easier. So over the years, he made several expeditions into the Mountains of Rain and Night, searching.’
‘Searching for what?’ Will asked, although he had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew what the answer would be.
‘For allies he could use against the Kingdom. The Mountains are an ancient, undisturbed part of the world. They’ve remained unchanged for centuries and there were rumours that strange beasts and ancient monsters still lived there. The rumours turned out to be all too true.’
‘Like the Wargals,’ Will put in and Halt nodded.
‘Yes. Like the Wargals. And he very quickly enslaved them and bent them to his will,’ he said with a touch of bitterness in his voice. ‘But then he found the Kalkara. And they’re worse than Wargals. Much, much worse.’
Will said nothing. The thought of beasts that were worse than Wargals was a disturbing one, to say the least.
‘There were three of them. But one was killed about eight years ago, so we know a little more about them. Think of a creature somewhere between an ape and a bear, that walks upright, and you’ll have an idea of what a Kalkara looks like.’
‘So does Morgarath control them with his mind, like the Wargals?’ Will asked and Halt shook his head.
‘No. They’re more intelligent than Wargals. But they are totally obsessed with silver. They worship it and hoard it and Morgarath apparently gives it to them in large amounts so they’ll do his bidding. And they do it well. They can be incredibly cunning while they stalk their prey.’
‘Prey?’ Will asked. ‘What sort of prey?’
Halt and Gilan exchanged a glance and Will could see that his mentor was reluctant to talk about the subject. For a moment, he thought Halt was going to begin another of his dissertations on Will’s end
‘The Kalkara are assassins. Once they’ve been given a specific victim, they will do anything in their power to reach that person and kill them.’
‘Can’t we stop them?’ Will asked, his gaze shifting briefly to Halt’s massive longbow and the bristling quiver of black arrows.
‘They’re very difficult to kill. They have a thick hair covering that’s matted and bonded together so that it’s almost like scales. An arrow will hardly penetrate. A battleaxe or a broadsword is best against them. Or a good thrust with a heavy spear might do the job.’
Will felt a moment of relief. These Kalkara had started to sound almost invincible. But there were plenty of accomplished knights in the Kingdom who would doubtless be able to account for them.
‘So was it a knight who killed the one eight years ago?’ he asked. Halt shook his head.
‘Not a knight. Three. It took three fully armed knights to kill it, and only one of them survived the battle. What’s more, he was crippled for life,’ Halt finished grimly.
‘Three men? All of them knights?’ Will said incredulously. ‘But how –’
Gilan interrupted him before he could finish. ‘The problem is, if you get close enough to use a sword or spear, the Kalkara can usually stop you before you have a chance.’
As he spoke, his fingers drummed lightly on the hilt of the sword that he wore at his waist.
‘How does it stop you?’ Will asked, the momentary feeling of relief instantly dispelled by Gilan’s words. This time it was Merron who answered.
‘His eyes,’ the gangly Ranger said. ‘If you look into his eyes, you are frozen helpless – the way a snake freezes a bird with its gaze before it kills it.’
Will looked from one to the other of the three men, uncomprehending. What Merron was saying seemed too far-fetched to be true. Yet Halt wasn’t contradicting him.
‘Freezes you … how can it do that? Are you talking about magic here?’