The Red Fox Clan

by John Flanagan

  She began to apply pressure to her right hand, feeling the sharp grass stalks digging painfully into it. It would have been so natural to move her hand slightly to a more comfortable position. But again she resisted temptation.

  Unnecessary movement might give her away. Better to put up with the discomfort. Of course, she’d have to move her arm to propel herself along the ground in a belly crawl. But that was a necessary movement. Otherwise, she’d be here all night. So she began to set her muscles once more.

  Then stopped.

  There had been a sound—faint and unrecognizable—from the grass in front of her. And as she registered it, she remembered another piece of advice that Will had given her.

  Sometimes, there’ll be a sweeper, she could hear his calm voice saying in her brain. Another searcher who follows the line, ten or twelve meters behind it, looking to catch someone who’s evaded the first line and is beginning to move again. It’s an old trick, but you’d be surprised how many have been caught by it.

  She relaxed again and waited, head close to the ground, facedown. Now she heard the sound again, and this time she recognized it. Whoever was coming was lifting his feet high out of the grass, then setting them down evenly and squarely on the ground, testing each step so it didn’t shuffle or create extra noise. It was the way she had been taught to step when she wanted to keep noise to a minimum, and she realized that this new arrival was well skilled in the art of silent movement.

  She strained her ears, listening for any trace, any sound that would tell her how close he was and which direction he was coming from. He seemed to be slightly to her right and moving diagonally, so that he would cross close by her position. And so far, she could see no sign of light from a torch. She bit her lip with frustration. A torch would have given him uncertain, uneven light, which would actually help conceal her. Plus the brightness of the flame close to his face would reduce his night vision considerably. Now that it was nearly full dark, a torch was almost more hindrance than help.

  He was close. Even with the care he was taking to keep noise to a minimum, she could hear the faint sounds that he made. His stepping smoothly and rhythmically helped her keep track of him. Once she figured out his timing, she knew when to listen for the next, almost silent, footstep.

  Now he was very close. But he was moving across her front, angling to pass down her left side, and she knew she had eluded him. She felt a surge of triumph as he took another pace, taking him fractionally away from her. Three more steps in that direction and she’d be in the clear.

  Then, inexplicably, he angled back again, changing direction to move parallel to where she lay. Her heart rate soared again as she realized how close he was to finding her.

  She felt a searing pain in her left hand as he placed his foot squarely on it, bearing down with all his weight as he raised his other foot for another step.

  “Ow!” she cried, before she could stop herself.

  At the same time, she inadvertently flinched with the pain, just as he recoiled a pace, sensing a foreign object underfoot. It was only a small movement on her part, but it was enough. The sweeper gave a cry of triumph, and she felt an iron grip on the back of her cloak, just below the cowl, hauling her to her feet.

  “Got you!” he said, the satisfaction obvious in his voice. He turned her to face him, at the same time that he called to the search line. “Back here! I’ve got him!”

  He pushed her hood back and studied her face more closely.

  “But you’re not a him, are you?” he said. “You’re Will Treaty’s apprentice. Well, you are a catch, and no mistake.”

  She struggled in his grip, hoping to break free, even though the exercise was now well and truly over. The rest of the searchers, hearing his shout, hurried back and gathered round them, the torchlight showing their grinning faces all too clearly.

  “Bad luck,” said one, a handsome fourth-year apprentice. “You nearly made it.”

  He jerked his head to the edge of the field, and she twisted in her captor’s grip to look. The little hut she had been tasked to reach was barely fifty meters away. If it hadn’t been for this clodhopping sweeper with his clumsy great feet, she would have made it.

  And that would have given her a perfect score for her end-of-year assessment.

  * * *

  • • •

  On a low hilltop a hundred meters away, Will Treaty and Gilan watched the events in the stubble field as the search line gathered around Maddie and her captor. Even at this distance, and in the gathering dark, the torchlight gave sufficient illumination for Will to see Maddie’s dejected, frustrated reaction.

  “That was bad luck,” Gilan said. “She nearly made it. And she did everything right.”

  “Right up until the moment she went Ow! You trod on me!” Will grinned.

  Gilan looked sidelong at his old friend. “As I said, that was bad luck.”

  “Halt always said a Ranger makes his own luck,” Will replied.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pleased she was caught,” Gilan said.

  Will shrugged. “I’m not too displeased,” he admitted. “She was set for a perfect score, and I’m not sure I wanted that. It wouldn’t have been good for her ego.” He paused slightly. “Or my patience.”

  “I take it you speak from experience?” Gilan asked.

  Will nodded. “She got a perfect score at the end of second year,” he said. “And I heard about it for the next three months—anytime I tried to correct her or suggest that she might be going about a task the wrong way. She does tend to be a little headstrong.”

  Gilan nodded. “True. But she is very good, you have to admit.”

  “I admit it. But she’s also her mother’s daughter. Can you imagine how Evanlyn would have been in her place?”

  This time, Gilan grinned at the thought. “You’re referring to Her Highness Princess Cassandra in that derogatory tone, are you?” He was mildly amused by the fact that Will continued to refer to the princess by the name she had assumed when he first met her.

  Will shook his head ruefully. “I am indeed,” he replied. “The more I see of Maddie, the more I see her mother in her.”

  “Which possibly explains why she is such a high achiever,” Gilan suggested, and Will had to agree.

  “True.” He stood up from where he had been sitting, leaning against the bole of a tree. The search party and their quarry were heading back to the Gathering Ground, the line of torches twinkling in the darkness. “Let’s get back to camp and sit in on the debrief,” he said.

  2

  The analysis of Maddie’s performance was held in one of the large central command tents. The three senior assessors sat behind a trestle table, in comfortable canvas folding chairs, studying reports from the assessors who had examined her skills and abilities over the course of the Gathering.

  Maddie stood before them, with her captor a half pace behind her. The assessors glanced up as Will and Gilan entered the tent, lifting the canvas flaps to the side. Harlon, the most senior, nodded permission for them to come in. Will was Maddie’s mentor, of course, so he had every right to be here and listen as they passed judgment on her performance. And Gilan, as Commandant of the Ranger Corps, was entitled to go anywhere he pleased.

  In the time it had taken for the two to reach the tent, the panel had listened to the report from Maddie’s captor. Now Harlon spoke.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t give you a pass on your unseen-movement exercise,” he said. His voice was not unkind. He was impressed with the overall level of Maddie’s performance, as accounted in the written reports of those who had tested her. He glanced down at the reports fanned out in front of him.

  Shooting—excellent, he read. And he noted an addendum to the report. Unlike the other apprentices, Maddie had been assessed for her skill with the sling as well as the bow, and he raised his eyebrows as he sa
w that her scores over half a dozen tests averaged 95 percent. She was even better with the sling than with the bow, where she had scored an impressive 92 percent. Knife throwing—excellent. Unarmed combat—very good. Mapmaking—another excellent result. Navigation skills—above average. And since “average” in the Ranger Corps meant excellent, that was saying something. Tactical planning—excellent.

  He leafed through the papers, seeing more excellent and above-average ratings. He was impressed, and he knew his colleagues were as well. Third-year assessments were tough. It was the time when the examiners really began to bear down on the apprentices. They were more than halfway through their training, and they were expected to keep a high standard. He glanced up and caught Will Treaty’s eye as the gray-bearded Ranger stood just inside the entrance to the tent. It wasn’t surprising that she had performed so well, he thought. Will Treaty was one of the most accomplished members of the Ranger Corps. And he’d been trained by Halt, a legend among the green-and-gray-cloaked community.

  Harlon switched his gaze now to the slightly built figure before him. Maddie had tossed back her cowl, and her short hair was tousled. There were even one or two wisps of dead grass caught in it. She stood erect, facing him with a look of determination, even defiance, on her face. She was slightly flushed, he noticed—angry at being caught so close to her objective, he assumed correctly.

  “Overall, you’ve done well, Madelyn,” he said. “Aside from the unseen-movement exercise, you’ve pretty well topped the course.” He indicated the report sheets in front of him. His two companions, with copies of their own, grunted their agreement.

  “Your results are more than good enough for you to advance to fourth-year training,” he said, and he saw a slight relaxation of her shoulders as she heard that piece of news. Then, after a second or two, she stiffened once more and her jaw set in a stubborn line.

  He gathered the reports together, tapping them on the table to align them, and continued. “You’ll take a makeup assessment for unseen movement in three months or so,” he told her. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble passing it.”

  “It’s not fair!” Maddie blurted the words out, unable to contain herself any longer. Harlon set the rearranged reports down on the table and raised an eyebrow at the angry face before him.

  “Not fair? How is it not fair? You were caught fifty meters from your objective.”

  “But it’s a test of unseen movement,” she protested. “And he never saw me! He trod on my hand!”

  “Are you saying you weren’t apprehended?” Harlon asked quietly.

  Maddie, now committed to her protest, went on. “I’m saying I wasn’t seen!” She swung round and gestured to her captor. “The very fact that he stood on my hand proves it. He had no idea I was there. It was a test of unseen movement and he never saw me!”

  “Until you cried out and moved,” Harlon said. “Then he saw you.”

  She shook her head in defiance. “It wasn’t a test of being trodden on,” she said, aware that the words sounded ridiculous, but unable to think of another way to frame them.

  “It was a test of your ability to remain concealed,” Harlon pointed out. “Have you considered what might have happened if you hadn’t reacted? If you hadn’t cried out?”

  “Well, of course I cried out,” Maddie blustered. “This great oaf stood on my hand! You’d have cried out too!”

  The great oaf in question—who was, like most Rangers, slim in build and below-average height—couldn’t help smiling at her description of him. He liked Maddie. He had watched her going through her assessments and admired her. He knew that she had to perform at a higher level than the other apprentices because she was a girl—the first to be accepted for Ranger training. There were too many people who were ready to dismiss her because of that fact. She couldn’t just do as well as the boys in her year. She had to do better.

  “Mertin,” said the assessor on the right, “what would have happened had Madelyn remained silent?”

  Maddie’s captor shrugged. “In all likelihood, I would have continued on. Initially, I thought I’d trodden on a tree root or a fallen branch.” He smiled. “But then the branch called out Ow! and I knew I was mistaken.”

  Maddie’s scowl deepened. Harlon looked from Mertin to her once more.

  “Did you think of not reacting?” he asked her.

  She flushed angrily. “I didn’t think. He trod on my hand with his great clumsy boot.” She paused, then added defiantly, “Because he hadn’t seen me!”

  “Hmm,” said Harlon thoughtfully.

  Gudris, the Ranger seated to his right, leaned forward. “Tell me, Maddie,” he said, “what made you choose that field to try to break through the line? After all, the grass in the adjacent fields was much longer.”

  She paused, swallowing her anger for a moment, then answered. “I figured they’d assume that I’d go through the longer grass,” she explained. “So the searchers in the low grass wouldn’t be as attentive as they might be. Plus they’d tend to spread out farther.”

  The three assessors exchanged a glance. Will and Gilan, at the back of the tent, did likewise. Gilan pursed his lips in an appreciative expression.

  “That’s good thinking,” said Downey, the third assessor. The others grunted assent. Maddie’s marks for tactical planning bore out the choice.

  “Except,” Harlon said, deciding that too much praise was not a good thing for this young woman, “she was caught.”

  “Only because he stood on me!” Maddie flared.

  Behind her, Will raised an eyebrow at Gilan as if to say, See what I mean? Gilan shrugged.

  “We’ve established that that was unfortunate,” Harlon said, a trifle briskly, “but it doesn’t alter the result.”

  Maddie heard the change of tone, from evenhanded and slightly sympathetic to decisive and final. She realized any further argument could well be counterproductive for her. She had opened her mouth to protest further. Now she shut it firmly.

  Harlon noticed her capitulation and nodded approval. Then he continued, in a more conciliatory tone. “In any event, Maddie, your performance at this Gathering has been exceptional, and I’d like to congratulate you on passing your third-year assessment.”

  “Hear, hear,” murmured Downey and Gudris. Maddie allowed herself the ghost of a smile, even though her flushed features indicated that she was still annoyed about failing her test by sheer accident.

  Harlon looked up at the two senior Rangers behind the girl and singled out Will. “Congratulations to you too, Will Treaty,” he said. “Her performance reflects well on your training and guidance.”

  Will shrugged. “I merely show the way, Harlon,” he said. “Maddie follows it. Any success is due to her efforts.”

  “Quite so,” said Harlon, smiling inwardly at the other man’s humility. He looked back to Maddie and took her bronze oakleaf from the tabletop, where she had placed it when the hearing began. He handed it back to her now.

  “Here, Maddie. I’m delighted to tell you that you are to advance to your fourth year of training with Ranger Will.”

  Maddie took the oakleaf and dropped the chain over her head, arranging the small bronze symbol at her throat. Had she failed the year’s assessment, the oakleaf would have been marked by a small hole hammered through the brass. If she accumulated three of those throughout her training period, she would be politely asked to leave the Corps. She was proud that her oakleaf, symbol of her rank as an apprentice Ranger, was unmarked.

  Harlon pushed back his chair now and stood, reaching across the table to shake her hand. Gudris and Downey did the same. Maddie shook hands and bowed her head as they congratulated her. She turned to go and found herself facing Mertin, the young Ranger who had caught her. He too offered his hand.

  “Congratulations, Maddie,” he said.

  She hesitated. She was still angry about the way he had
found her. But his smile was genuine and his manner was friendly. She shook hands with him.

  “Thanks,” she said briefly, and then she gave him a reluctant smile. It was impossible to stay angry with someone as cheerful as he was.

  “You should be proud of yourself,” he said to her. “One in four apprentices doesn’t make it this far—not without having to repeat a year at least once.”

  She was too surprised to say anything. She hadn’t realized that the failure rate was so high. Will certainly hadn’t told her. He hadn’t wanted to worry her about the possibility of failure—not that it was something Maddie ever considered. She relinquished Mertin’s hand, mumbled a thank-you, and turned away to where Will and Gilan were waiting for her. Her mentor drew the tent flap aside and motioned her through ahead of him. He and Gilan followed, and the three of them strode in line abreast through the Gathering Ground toward the spot where they had pitched their simple one-person tents.

  They walked in silence for several minutes. Then Maddie couldn’t restrain herself any longer.

  “I still say it’s not fair,” she said quietly.

  Will glanced sidelong at her. “And I imagine you will keep saying so until you do your makeup assessment in three months,” he said. There was a note of finality in his tone that warned her not to continue with the matter.

  Gilan, however, had something to add. “Maddie, if you really think you’ve been badly treated, I am obliged to look into the matter. I am the Commandant, after all. Are you making an official complaint here?”

  Maddie was aghast at the thought that she might be seen to be invoking the authority of the Corps Commandant.

  “Good lord, no, Gilan!” she said quickly. “I don’t think of you as the Commandant!”

  “Well, thank you very much,” Gilan said. “I’m glad my authority is so negligible.”

  She hastened to qualify her statement. “I mean, I know you’re the Commandant, of course! And I respect you for it. But I think of you more as a friend.”