Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger

by John Flanagan

  ‘I don’t know any Wyvern Inn! I’ve never been in Anselm Fief. You’ve got the wrong –’

  Suddenly, with a speed that belied his bulk, the wagoner was on his feet and whirling to his right to face the Ranger. As he began the movement, his right hand snatched the dagger from his belt and he swung it in a backhanded strike.

  But, fast as he was, the Ranger was even faster. He had been expecting some sudden, defiant movement like this as the desperation had been mounting in Wheeler’s voice. He took a swift half step backwards and the saxe came up to block the wagoner’s dagger. The blades rang together with a rasping clang, then the Ranger countered the wagoner’s move with his own. Pivoting on his right heel, he deflected the dagger even further with his saxe and followed the movement with an open-palmed strike with his left hand, hitting Wheeler on the ridge of his jawline.

  The wagoner grunted in shock and staggered back. His feet tangled in the bench he’d been sitting on and he stumbled, crashing over to hit the edge of the table, then falling with a thud to the ground.

  The wagoner lay there, unmoving. An ominous dark stain began to spread across the turf.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ The steward moved from behind the serving table, with his two assistants in tow. He looked at the Ranger, who met his gaze steadily. Then the Ranger shrugged, gesturing towards the still figure on the ground. The steward tore his gaze away, knelt and reached to turn the heavy figure over.

  The wagoner’s eyes were wide open. The shock of what had happened was frozen on his face. His own dagger was buried deep in his chest.

  ‘He fell on his knife. He’s dead,’ the steward said. He looked up at the Ranger, but saw neither guilt nor regret in his dark eyes.

  ‘What a shame,’ said Will Treaty. Then, gathering his cloak around him, he turned and strode from the tent.

  THE FIRST STREAKS of light were staining the eastern sky. In the parkland surrounding Castle Araluen, birds began singing to herald the coming day – at first in ones or twos, but gradually swelling into a general, joyous chorus. Occasionally, one could be seen flitting between the well-spaced trees, in search of food.

  The large castle drawbridge was currently raised. That was a matter of course. It was raised every night at nine o’clock, even though Araluen had been at peace for some years now. Those in command of the castle knew that the peace could be shattered without warning. As King Duncan had said some years previously, ‘No one ever died from being too careful.’

  There was a small wooden footbridge in place across the moat – little more than a pair of planks with rope hand rails. It could be quickly withdrawn in the event of an attack. At its outer end, a pair of sentries stood watch. There were more lookouts on the castle walls, of course. Multiple pairs of eyes scanned the well-tended parkland that stretched for several hundred metres on all sides of the castle, and the thickly wooded forest beyond.

  As the two sentries watched, one of them nudged his companion.

  ‘Here she comes,’ he said.

  A slim figure had emerged from the trees and was striding up the gently sloping grassed field to the castle. The newcomer was dressed in a thigh-length leather hunting vest, belted at the waist and worn over a long-sleeved, thick woollen shirt and wool breeches. The breeches were tucked into knee-high boots of soft, untanned leather.

  There was nothing about the figure to indicate that it was a girl. The sentry’s knowledge arose from the fact that this was a regular occurrence. The fifteen-year-old girl often sneaked away from the castle to hunt in the forest, much to the fury of her parents. The castle sentries found this amusing. She was a popular figure among them, bright and cheerful and always ready to share the proceeds of a successful hunt. As a result, they turned a blind eye to her comings and goings, although they didn’t advertise the fact. Her mother, after all, was the Princess Regent Cassandra, and no low-ranking soldier would risk her ill favour, or that of her husband, Sir Horace, the premier knight of the Kingdom.

  As Maddie – or, to give her her formal title, Princess Madelyn of Araluen – came closer, she recognised the men on post. They were two of her favourites and her face lit up with a smile.

  ‘Morning, Len. Morning, Gordon. I see you’ve had a quiet night.’

  The sentry called Gordon smiled back at her. ‘That was until a fierce warrior maiden burst out of the forest just now and threatened the castle, your highness,’ he said.

  She frowned at him. ‘What have we said about this your highness business? It’s all a bit too formal for five o’clock in the morning.’

  The sentry nodded and corrected himself. ‘Sorry, Princess.’

  He glanced back up at the walls of the castle. One of the sentries there waved in acknowledgement of the fact that they had recognised the princess as well. ‘I assume your parents don’t know you’ve been out hunting?’

  Maddie wrinkled her nose. ‘I didn’t want to bother them,’ she said innocently. Gordon raised an eyebrow and grinned conspiratorially. ‘I’m perfectly safe, as you can see.’

  The sentry called Len shrugged uncertainly. ‘The forest can be dangerous, Princess. You never know.’

  Her grin widened. ‘Not too dangerous for a fierce warrior maiden, surely? And I’m not defenceless, you know. I’ve got my saxe and my sling.’

  She touched the long double leather thong that was hanging loosely around her neck. Then, as mention of the sling reminded her of something, she delved into the laden game bag slung over her shoulder.

  ‘By the way, I got a hare and a couple of wood pigeons. Can you use them?’

  The sentries exchanged a quick glance. They knew that if Maddie suddenly produced fresh-killed game in the castle, questions would be asked as to how she had obtained it. On the other hand, the addition of some fresh meat would be a welcome change to the soldiers’ table.

  Gordon hesitated. ‘The pigeons are all right, Princess. But the hare? If my wife’s found cooking that up, folks might think I’d been poaching.’

  Only the King, his family, or senior officials and warriors had the right to take game such as hares in the environs of the castle. Rangers, of course, hunted wherever they chose, with a fine disregard for such matters. Ordinary people were allowed to hunt smaller animals such as rabbits, pigeons and duck. But a hare was a different matter. A peasant or soldier could be fined for taking one.

  Maddie made a dismissive gesture. ‘If anyone asks, say I gave it to you. I’ll back you up.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.’ Gordon hesitated still, his hand halfway out for the hare.

  Maddie laughed carelessly. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Take it. And you take the pigeons, Len.’

  The sentries finally gave in, taking the game and chorusing their thanks. Maddie brushed their gratitude aside.

  ‘Think nothing of it. I don’t want to throw them away and see good food go to waste. And you’re saving me a lot of explanations.’

  The guards stowed the animals in the small sentry box that gave them shelter in bad weather. Maddie waved to them and stepped lightly across the footbridge, letting herself into the small wicket beside the main castle gate. The two sentries smiled at each other. This was one of the perks of being assigned to the outside sentry post.

  ‘She’s a nice kid,’ Len said.

  Gordon, who was the older of the two by some years, agreed. ‘Like her mother,’ he said. Then he added thoughtfully, ‘Mind you, Princess Cassandra used to stalk us when she sneaked out of the castle as a girl.’

  Len raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? I hadn’t heard that.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Gordon nodded, remembering. ‘She practised her stalking skills on the sentries. Then she’d let fly with her sling and hit the heads of our spears. A right terror, she was, until we got used to her tricks.’

  Len was trying to equate the current Princess Cassandra – the caretaker ruler of the Kingdom – with the picture his companion had drawn of a wild, adventurous tomboy ter
rorising the castle guards.

  ‘You’d never pick it now. She’s so calm and dignified, isn’t she?’

  ‘WHERE THE BLIND, BLUE, BLITHERING BLAZES HAVE YOU BEEN?’ the calm and dignified Princess Cassandra demanded.

  Maddie froze in shock as her mother’s words echoed round the living room of the royal apartment.

  She had tiptoed up the tower stairs and crept silently into the room, unlatching the door carefully, then opening it quickly to prevent any long, lingering squeaks from the hinges. The interior was in darkness, with heavy drapes across the window and only a few glowing embers in the fire grate.

  She had paused just inside the door, senses alert for any sound or any hint of another’s presence in the room. She had taken off her boots before climbing the stairs and now held them in her left hand. Satisfied that her parents were still asleep in their chamber, she had begun stepping carefully across the thick carpet towards her own suite of rooms.

  Then her mother – as skilled in the art of ambush as most mothers are – had startled her with her furious, echoing roar.

  Maddie froze in mid-stride, one foot poised above the carpet. She looked frantically around the room. She had been convinced that it was empty. Now she made out the dim form of her mother seated in a large, high-backed armchair.

  ‘Mum!’ she said, recovering quickly. ‘You startled me!’

  ‘I startled you?’ Cassandra rose from the chair and crossed the room to face her daughter. She was in her nightgown, with a heavy robe over it to protect her from the chill. An observer would have remarked on the similarity between the two women. Both were small in stature, slender and graceful in their movements. Both had green eyes and attractive features. And both had the same determined tilt to their chins. In times past, people had mistaken them for sisters and it was no surprise that they had. They shared the same mass of blonde hair, although there were occasional grey streaks in Cassandra’s now – testament to the strain that she had been under, managing the Kingdom for her invalid father these past three years.

  ‘I startled you?’ she repeated from closer range, her voice rising a few tones with incredulity.

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’ Maddie said, trying an innocent smile. In fact, she was sure her mother had been asleep when she had left the apartment, several hours before. She had peered into the royal bedchamber to make sure of it.

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’ her mother replied. ‘I seem to recall that at the ninth hour you made a big fuss about how tired you were.’

  She feigned an enormous yawn. Maddie was uncomfortably aware that it was an excellent impersonation of her own performance the previous evening.

  ‘Oh, I’m soooo tired!’ Cassandra said, still mimicking her in an exaggerated little girly voice. ‘I’m afraid I’m off to bed right away.’

  ‘Ah . . . yes,’ Maddie said. ‘Well, I woke up. I was starving, so I went down to the kitchens to get something to eat.’

  ‘Carrying your boots,’ Cassandra observed. Maddie looked down at them, as if seeing them for the first time.

  ‘Um . . . I didn’t want to get mud all over the carpet,’ she said quickly. Too quickly. Speaking quickly often results in a mistake.

  ‘That would be mud from the kitchen,’ Cassandra said evenly.

  Maddie opened her mouth to reply, but could think of nothing to say. She shut it again.

  ‘Madelyn, are you crazy?’ Cassandra said, her anger finally bursting like water gushing through a fractured dam. ‘You’re a princess, the heir to the throne after me. You can’t go gallivanting off in the forest in the dead of night. It’s just too dangerous!’

  ‘Mum, it’s just a forest. It’s not dangerous. I know what I’m doing. I saw a badger,’ she added, as if that would excuse what she’d been doing.

  ‘Oh well, if you saw a badger, that makes it all right!’ Cassandra’s sarcasm cut like a whip. ‘Why didn’t you mention the badger immediately? Now I can go back to bed and sleep peacefully because I know you weren’t in any danger. How could you be if you saw a blasted badger?’

  ‘Mother . . .’ Maddie began in a tone that implied her mother was being unreasonable. Maddie only called Cassandra ‘mother’ when she was exasperated by what she saw as obsessive, over-controlling behaviour.

  Cassandra was all too well aware of that fact and her eyes flashed with anger.

  ‘Don’t you Mother me, Madelyn!’ she snapped.

  Madelyn’s shoulders straightened and she stood a little taller. She was two centimetres shorter than her mother and, at times like this, she felt that deficiency put her at a disadvantage.

  ‘Then don’t you Madelyn me!’ she retorted crisply. Cassandra only called her by her full, formal name when she felt she was being irresponsible, immature and infuriating.

  ‘I’ll Madelyn you any time I please, young lady!’

  Maddie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, we’re on to young lady now, are we?’ she said wearily. She made a beckoning gesture with her hands. ‘Let it all out. Let’s hear the litany of my sins. I’m a terrible girl. I’m irresponsible. I’m a disgrace to the royal house of Araluen.’

  She stood facing her mother, one hand on her hip in a petulant pose, as totally infuriating as only a teenage girl can be when she knows she’s in the wrong but refuses to admit it.

  Cassandra’s hand twitched and she felt an overwhelming urge to slap her daughter. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the gown to prevent any such action. She took a deep breath and lowered her voice.

  ‘There are bears in that forest, Madelyn. What would you do if you ran into one?’

  ‘Dondy says that if you meet a bear, you crouch down, stay still and don’t make eye contact.’ Dondy was the royal forester and hunt master.

  ‘He also says that’s a last resort and it’s only successful half the time.’

  ‘Then I’d run the other way. Or climb a tree. A small, thin tree so he couldn’t climb after me.’ She added the last quickly, before Cassandra could point out that bears were able to climb trees.

  It was obvious that she wasn’t going to surrender this point. Cassandra changed tack. ‘There are criminals too. Brigands and bandits and outlaws. They hide out in the forest.’

  ‘They’re pretty few and far between these days. Dad has seen to that,’ Maddie replied. Horace had recently conducted a series of armed sweeps to drive the outlaws from their lairs in the forest.

  ‘It’d only take one. You’re well known. You could be kidnapped and held to ransom.’

  ‘He’d have to catch me first,’ Maddie said stubbornly.

  Cassandra turned away, throwing her hands in the air in resignation. ‘Mind you, we’d have to be willing to pay to get you back,’ she muttered. Her tone indicated that this would be no certainty.

  The door to the bedroom opened, emitting a shaft of light into the dark room. Horace entered. His hair was tousled and his nightshirt was tucked into his trousers. His feet were bare. So was the blade of the sword in his right hand. It glinted in the light of the lantern he held in his left hand, sending random reflections darting around the walls.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said. Seeing only his wife and daughter in the room, he set the sword to one side, leaning it against the wall. He held the lantern higher, studying his daughter in its light.

  ‘You’ve been hunting again,’ he said. His tone was a mix of anger and resignation.

  ‘Dad, I’ve just been out for an hour . . .’ Maddie began, sensing that her father might be more reasonable than Cassandra. She knew she could usually bring him round to her way of thinking.

  ‘I’ve been waiting over two hours,’ Cassandra snapped. ‘I found your bed empty and I’ve been sitting here ever since.’

  Horace shook his head. Any hopes that he would be more forgiving than her mother were dashed by his next words.

  ‘Are you stupid, Maddie? Or are you just determined to defy your mother and me? It’s got to be one or the other, so tell me. Which is it?’

  It
wasn’t fair, Maddie thought, the way adults gave you two equally damning alternatives and insisted you pick one. She folded her arms and dropped her eyes from her father’s angry gaze.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ Horace said.

  Maddie set her jaw. She glared at her angry parents and they glared back. At last, Cassandra couldn’t endure the silence.

  ‘Maddie, you’re the heir to the throne. You’ll rule Araluen one day –’ she began, and Maddie seized on the opening she’d created.

  ‘And how can I do that if you keep me locked up in a protective cocoon? If I know nothing about facing danger and making decisions and thinking quickly?’

  ‘What?’ her mother said, frowning. But Maddie kept going.

  ‘If I were a boy, Dad would be teaching me how to fight and ride and lead men in battle . . .’

  ‘I taught you to ride,’ Horace said, but she shook her head impatiently.

  ‘If I do become queen, how can I order men to go out and fight for me if I don’t know the first thing about it myself?’

  ‘You’ll have advisers,’ Cassandra said. ‘People who do know these things.’

  ‘Not the same! I’ll be expected to make decisions.’ She pointed a finger at her mother. ‘Of all people, you should understand that! When you were my age, you fought the Wargals, were abducted by Skandians and commanded archers against the Temujai. You fought alongside Dad!’

  ‘That was by accident. I didn’t set out to do those things!’

  ‘But you did choose to go to Arrida and fight the Tualaghi. And you chose to go to Nihon-Ja and rescue Dad. You killed the snow tiger –’

  ‘Alyss killed it,’ Cassandra put in but Maddie ignored the interruption.

  ‘And you used to sneak out into the forest and practise with your sling . . .’

  Cassandra’s head snapped up. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Grandpa. He said he used to be worried sick about you.’

  ‘Your grandfather talks too much,’ Cassandra said, thin-lipped. ‘In any event, even if I did do those things, that doesn’t say you should do them too.’