'Come on!' Will shouted. He grabbed Horace's arm, dragging him along with him. 'Halt! We've got to get out now!'
Horace was moving with him but Halt hesitated.
'Tennyson?' he queried, but Will beckoned him urgently.
'He's finished! I saw him fall. Come on, Halt!'
Still Halt lingered. But then an entire section of roof gave way and came crashing down in a cloud of dust and sand, adding to the masses of brown smoke, and his decision was made. He turned and ran for the tunnel entrance.
In a fatal mistake, the surviving white robes ran in the opposite direction, disappearing into the swirling dust and smoke.
Will, with Horace in tow, reached the tunnel entrance. For a moment, the tall warrior baulked at the dark hole, but Will dragged him forward.
'I'm with you!' he said and he felt Horace's resistance disappear as he followed his friend into the stygian darkness of the tunnel. A shadow filled the entrance as Halt came behind them.
For Horace, the tunnel was even worse than before. The whole space echoed with the thunder of falling rocks and crashing landslides. He could feel the terrifying vibrations in the ground under his feet and in the walls as he brushed against them. And now the tunnel was filling with clouds of choking dust. He couldn't see the dust in the total darkness but it rasped in his throat and nose and set him coughing helplessly. The darkness, the noise, the choking dust – they were all parts of his worst dreams and he was close to losing control. But Will's grip was firm on his arm and he fought back the panic, following his friend.
He felt the downward pressure on his arm and realised they must be close to the low exit from this tunnel. He crouched, following Will, felt something bump against him from behind and after a moment of searing terror realised it was Halt.
Then the three comrades staggered, coughing violently, into the smaller cavern and the blessed relief of the dim grey light that came through the ventilation slits high in the wall. Dust billowed from the aperture they had just come through and they moved away from it as the dust clouds began to fill the smaller cavern. Malcolm was waiting for them at the entrance to the second tunnel, gesturing feverishly for them to join him.
'Come on!' he yelled. 'The whole cave system is unstable. It could all collapse at any minute!'
As if on cue, a section of the inner wall fell away and slid, crumbling into small pieces, to the floor. More dust exploded into the air.
Then it was into the darkness once more and the twisting, turning, narrow tunnel, with the sound of the earth collapsing behind them and Will's steady grip on Horace's arm to lead him. For a moment, Horace had the horrifying thought that the tunnel itself might collapse and he would be buried here inside it. But he forced it away, knowing that if he gave into the sickening sense of panic his limbs would freeze and he would never move from this spot.
Then the blackness around him was not quite so black and he realised he could make out the dim figure of Will, leading him, outlined against the dull grey light that came from the entrance to the tunnel.
With a moan of relief, Horace staggered out of the tunnel. Malcolm, waiting just outside, grabbed his arm and hurried him away. Will waited to make sure that Halt had followed them and the two Rangers ran side by side, coughing and eyes streaming, till they were well clear of the cave entrance.
Wearily, the four turned to view the narrow cleft in the rock face. Dust poured from it. Then there was a huge rumble in the earth and the dust became a massive billowing cloud that jetted in a solid stream from the narrow cleft, vomiting from the high-level vents, forced out by the collapsing cave system behind it.
Halt wiped one hand across his dust-stained face.
'Well,' he said, 'looks as if the Outsiders cult has finally gone underground.'
Then he sank wearily to the ground. Slowly the others joined him and they sat in silence, watching the dust as it continued to vomit from the tunnel. Halt rubbed his knee, aching from where he'd knocked it against a rock outcrop in their headlong, blind dash through the tunnel.
'I really am getting too old for this sort of thing.' Fifty-one They were heading north again, back to Grimsdell Wood.
It was only fair, Will thought, that they should escort Malcolm home. He had been prepared to do this on his own but Halt had announced that they would all make the trip.
'You can see Malcolm back to his forest,' he said. 'Horace and I have some business at Castle Macindaw.' Will looked curiously at him for a few moments, not understanding. Then Halt explained.
'The outlaw band that's been working with Tennyson are still at large,' he said. 'They'll need to be rounded up. We'll arrange for a patrol from Macindaw to take care of it. Harrison can lead them. He's probably itching for something to do.'
Harrison was the newly appointed Ranger to Norgate Fief, Will remembered. The appointment had been announced at the Gathering. He shook his head. It seemed so long since the Gathering. So much had happened in the intervening time.
They had found the horses Tennyson and his men had appropriated, grazing in a meadow close by the ruined cavern system. They took the quietest for Malcolm. As was often the case, the quietest horse was also the biggest and the little healer perched on top of it, his legs not reaching round the barrel of the horse's body, but sticking straight out.
Before they left, Halt had addressed the ex-converts to the Outsiders cult, lecturing them on the need to be more suspicious of religious leaders who offered to solve all their problems in return for their gold. The people hung their heads and shuffled their feet in embarrassment and he finally dismissed them to return to their farms.
'Looks like they've learned their lesson,' Horace said.
Halt snorted dismissively. 'Right until the next charlatan arrives and promises them heaven on earth.'
Malcolm smiled at his cynicism. 'You don't have a great deal of respect for your fellow man's common sense, do you?'
Halt shook his head. 'I've been around too long. Greed and fear will always win out over common sense.'
Malcolm nodded his agreement. His own experience bore out the truth of Halt's words. 'I'm afraid you're right.'
'How long before they're all back here, do you think?' Will asked. Horace looked at him, not understanding.
'What would they come back here for?'
Will grinned at him. 'Their gold,' he said. 'It's buried under that cliff there, remember? I wager they'll be back here digging for it within a week.'
Horace laughed, understanding. 'That should keep them busy for the next ten years or so.'
So they rode north and, several days later, they saw the solid bulk of Castle Macindaw before them, crouching astride the entry route from Picta, barring the way to the fierce northern tribes. Halt turned in his saddle to face Malcolm.
'In all the excitement,' he said, 'I may have forgotten something important. Thank you for saving my life,' he said simply.
Malcolm smiled. 'It was my pleasure,' he said. 'I always enjoy rubbing shoulders with legends.'
But Halt wasn't going to let Malcolm pass it off so casually.
'Nonetheless, if you ever need help in any form, send for me. I'll come. You have my word on it.'
Malcolm grew serious. He met Halt's steady gaze and nodded once.
'I'll remember it,' he said.
The two men clasped hands in farewell. They held the grip for long seconds. Then Malcolm released Halt's hand and turned to Horace, the smile creeping back onto his face.
'As for you, Horace, try to stay out of trouble, won't you? And don't eat poor Xander out of house and home.'
Xander was the steward at Macindaw and he guarded the castle lord's supplies more keenly than a miser would hoard his gold. Horace grinned in return and shook hands.
'Thanks for everything, Malcolm. If it hadn't been for you, Will and I would never be able to face Lady Pauline again.'
'I'm going to have to meet this remarkable woman one of these days,' he said. 'Come on then, Will, there are people waiting to
see you again.'
And as Halt and Horace continued north, Will and the little healer angled their horses off to the east, and the dark line on the horizon that marked the beginning of Grimsdell Wood.
As they rode in under the dark canopy once more, Will marvelled at Malcolm's sure sense of direction. Once they were surrounded by the tangle of trees and foliage, with no sign of the sun, Will rapidly lost his orientation. But Malcolm pressed on and in a surprisingly short space of time, they emerged into the clearing where Malcolm's thatched cottage stood.
First to greet them was a black and white shape who slipped across the clearing towards them, heavy tail sweeping back and forth. Tug whinnied a short greeting and Will swung down from the saddle to fondle the dog's head, and the soft fur under her chin and neck. She closed her eyes blissfully at his touch. A massive shadow fell over him and he glanced up.
'Hello, Trobar,' he said. 'You're taking good care of her. She looks wonderful.'
Indeed, Shadow was sleek and glossy, and her long coat was obviously groomed regularly. Trobar smiled at the compliment to his best friend.
'We'come, Wi' Trea'y,' he said, his words distorted by the deformation of his mouth and palate. Will stood and Trobar enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. Malcolm smiled at the contrast between the slightly built Ranger and the massive Trobar.
Then more familiar faces emerged shyly from the trees around the clearing and Will greeted them all, noticing their smiles as he remembered names and events that had taken place on his previous visit. Under Trobar's direction, a table was set up in the middle of the clearing and food was prepared. An impromptu feast ensued and lasted until long after sunset. Will looked around at these happy, welcoming people. They had been rejected by the world outside, because of their infirmities or the fact that their bodies were deformed. Because they were different, he thought. But really, that was a falsehood. These people were no different to any others.
Eventually, exhausted by the feast and the days of travel, he took himself off to bed in the spare room in Malcolm's cabin. As he drifted off to sleep, he could hear the distant hooting of an owl somewhere in the forest, and the soft whisper of the wind in the trees.
He bade farewell to Malcolm early the following morning, before too many of the inhabitants of Healer's Clearing were up and moving.
'You know how much I owe you,' he said. 'I want to thank you not just for what you did, but for the way you did it.'
Malcolm frowned, not quite understanding, so Will elaborated.
'I arrived here unannounced, asking for help for a friend miles away. You didn't ask questions. You didn't hesitate. You packed your things and came with me.'
The frown disappeared. 'We're friends,' Malcolm said simply. 'That's what friends do for each other.'
'Just remember what Halt said. If you ever need help…'
'I'll send for the two of you.' Malcolm embraced Will quickly. 'Good luck, Will. Travel safely. I'd say stay out of trouble but I doubt you'll ever do that.'
Will stepped back. He always felt awkward at farewells. He turned towards Tug, saddled and ready to go. But a voice stopped him.
'Wi' Trea'y!'
It was Trobar, standing on the far side of the clearing. He was beckoning to Will. Malcolm smiled at some secret knowledge.
'I think Trobar has something to show you,' he said. Will started across the clearing towards the giant. Something was amiss, he thought, then realised what it was. There was no sign of Shadow, who usually never let Trobar out of her sight.
As Will drew closer, Trobar turned and led him in under the trees. A few metres inside the treeline, a low hut stood. Will realised this was where Trobar slept. Off to one side was a smaller structure, barely a metre high, with a large opening facing them. Trobar gestured towards it and Will went down on his knees to peer inside.
Shadow's blue and brown eyes looked back at him and he saw the slow wag of her tail. Then he saw other movement as well and made out four small black and white shapes tumbling around her, climbing over her, fastening their needle-sharp teeth on any loose part of her flesh they could find.
'Puppies!' he said in delight. 'She's had puppies!'
Trobar grinned at him and reached one giant hand into the kennel. Gently pushing the others aside, he took hold of one and lifted her, yipping in excitement, out of the kennel. Shadow watched him carefully as he held the little ball of black and white fluff out to Will.
'Pi' o' the li'er,' he said and for a moment Will frowned, trying to decipher the words. Then he had it. When he had left Shadow with Trobar, he had told the giant, 'If she ever has pups, I want the pick of the litter.'
'Pick of the litter?' he translated now and Trobar beamed, holding the little, squirming shape out to him.
'For you, Wi' Trea'y.'
He took the pup, who immediately fastened her teeth on the ball of his thumb, growling and yipping alternately. He studied her. She was still covered in soft puppy fur and her tail, which would later become a bushy, slow-sweeping extension of her body, was now a whip-shaped narrow affair, with a white tip at the end. She glared up at him and he laughed in delight as he saw that she had inherited her mother's eyes – one blue, one brown. The blue eye had a peculiar, manic look to it. He smoothed the fur on her head and she stopped worrying at his thumb. The whip tail went back and forth in pleasure.
'She's beautiful!' he said. 'Thanks, Trobar. Thank you so much.' He grinned down at the struggling little pup. 'I wonder what I should call her?' he mused.
'Eb'ny.' Trobar said firmly. 'Her na' i' Eb'ny.'
Again Will frowned as he tried to interpret the word. Then he had it.
'Ebony,' he said and Trobar grinned confirmation. 'That's a good name. I like it.'
Then Trobar, still grinning, said. 'Be'er tha' Bla'hy.'
'Better than Blackie?' Will asked. That was the first name he had come up with for Shadow. Trobar had been scathing about it when he renamed the dog.
Trobar nodded vigorously.
'I suppose I'll never live that down, will I?' Will asked.
'Ne'er,' Trobar replied with great conviction. He smiled down at the pup, then put a massive hand on Will's shoulder.
'Ne'er,' he repeated. Will raised an eyebrow at him.
'I got it the first time,' he said. Fifty-two Will found the others waiting for him on the road south of Macindaw.
As the young Ranger rode up to join them, Horace couldn't help smiling when he saw the small black and white bundle perched on Will's saddle bow. He knew how much it had torn Will's heart to give Shadow away to Trobar all those months ago.
'From Trobar?' he asked and Will nodded, grinning.
'Who else?' he said. Then he added, 'Her name is Ebony.'
'Good name,' Halt said. 'Did you pick it?'
Will shook his head. 'Trobar's choice.'
Horace nodded sagely. 'That figures.'
Will considered glaring at him but decided it wasn't worth the effort. For the first time in months, they were free of any pressing obligation.
'What do we do now?' he asked.
It was Halt who replied. 'We go home.' And there was a wealth of contentment in his voice as he said it.
So they turned their horses south and rode at an easy pace for home. There was no need to hurry, no emergencies waiting to be dealt with, so they took their time, enjoying each other's company. Horace would be heading back to Castle Araluen and they didn't know when they would see him again. So they made the most of their time together, with Halt as often as not sitting back and watching and listening to the conversation between his two young friends. They were a good pair, he thought, just as he and Crowley had been in their younger days, when the Ranger Corps had fallen on bad times and needed to be reinvigorated. He was glad to think that Will had a friend like Horace. He had a vague memory that in his delirium, he had told an imaginary Crowley that these two young men might well hold the future of Araluen in their hands. If he had said that, he thought, he had been right.
> The atmosphere around the camp fire each evening was lightened by the puppy. She seemed to attach herself to Tug, crouching in front of the shaggy horse, her chin on her paws and her rump high in the air, tail waving as she challenged him with a fierce growl. If Tug made the slightest move towards her, she would dart away, sidestepping and twisting furiously as she ran in a circle to escape. Then she would return to crouch before him and challenge once again, her manic blue eye fixed on the animal that towered over her.
Tug, for his part, treated the little pup with good-humoured tolerance. On one occasion, Horace was convinced that he saw the horse raise an eyebrow at Ebony. The others didn't believe him, but he knew he was right.
Occasionally, she would growl and crouch in front of Abelard as well. But they noticed that she never tried it with Kicker. Small and pugnacious she might be, but border shepherds were never stupid and she sensed that while the smaller horses would tolerate her approaches, the battlehorse was likely to unthinkingly kick her into the middle of next week.
His name was 'Kicker', after all.
On one occasion, she crouched before Tug, snarling and yipping and making little forward darting movements at the horse, who eyed her with an air of amusement. Slowly, Tug lowered his head until his muzzle was a few centimetres away from the tiny black and white face. Then he suddenly snorted, and the dog, caught by surprise, was bowled over backwards in shock, scrambling to her feet and shaking herself to make sure everything was still in place and still working.
Don't annoy me, little dog, Tug seemed to say. I know your mother.
Later that night, making the rounds of the camp before turning in, Will found Tug lying quietly under a tree, his legs folded up beneath him. Nestled between his front upper legs was a small black and white shape, its sides rising and falling as it breathed. Tug looked up as Will approached.
She's had a long day. She's tired.
All too soon, they reached the junction in the highway where Horace would branch off for Castle Araluen. They camped there, the two young men talking long into the night. As they went to turn in, Will dropped a hand on Horace's well-muscled shoulder.
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