The end...? (Ranger's apprentice/ Brotherband fan-fiction)

Chapter 4

Hi there, dear readers. Thank you so much for having patience with me. I haven't been writing much lately, but I've got the writing spirit back now. I hope to update sooner from now on, but I can't promise anything. Anyways, here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

Oh, and comments motivate me to write more often, so I'm just saying... ;)

In a furious fashion, Halt pulled his arm out of the grip of the man in front of him. It was a regular Scoti soldier, without any sort of status. That didn’t make him less strong, and within seconds, he had grabbed hold of Halt’s arm again. This time, Halt couldn’t manage to rip himself free from the iron grip. Without further ado, the soldier had tied him up and thrown him on some sort of cart, along with his friends. A thick piece of fabric was thrown over the cart, blocking the view to their surroundings. The Scoti had taken the Araluans’ weapons, after they had taken advantage of their numbers. They had had to knock Horace unconscious to part him and his sword. Halt laughed grimly. The Scoti did have managed to get hold of the situation and bent it to their way, but they had paid a heavy price to do so: at least thirty of them were dead or severely wounded.

                Worriedly, Halt’s thoughts went to Will. He sincerely hoped his former apprentice had managed to bring himself to safety. That chance was incredibly small, but he refused to think of that. He heard the Scoti talking to each other outside the cart, using their own strange language. He wondered what was going to happen to them. He didn’t worry about himself: he could easily escape, weren’t it for his loyalty to his companions. Speaking of them, they wouldn’t be able to get away so quickly. And on top of that came the fact that the Araluan army would surrender immediately if they discovered that the royal family had been taken hostage. Of course, he didn’t even consider leaving his friends behind. He’d rather die. He could only imagine what Will had had to go through, fleeing with Evanlyn.

                The cart came into movement with a sudden jolt. Halt wondered why the Scoti could move across the land so terribly quietly and unseen if they used this kind of old, rusty tools. He cursed, hitting his head against the side of the cart. Halt managed to squeeze himself in some sort of half sitting, half lying position, to make the ride as comfortable as it could get. He snorted. Comfortable. Right.

“Halt?” he heard Pauline whisper in the semi-darkness.

“I’m here,” he whispered, trying to sound reassuring. At that point, Horace chose to retrieve consciousness, and he let them know with a loud groan. Then he discovered he was tied up. He seemed to try to curse the ties away, meanwhile wriggling himself into the most impossible movements. Halt raised an eyebrow. It was almost funny. Almost.

“What is going on?!” Horace exclaimed testily. Halt sighed quietly.

“Don’t you remember?” was all he said, not paying attention to the fact that he answered a question with a question. Horace answered by cursing again. He did remember.

“Cass, what’s wrong?” he then asked in a total different voice. Halt noticed Cassandra was quietly sobbing. Now he was paying attention, he also heard Alyss’ sobs, but she tried to keep strong and hide it. It was clear what troubled the two women: Will and Evanlyn.

                Slowly, Halt’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, and soon he was able to distinguish his friends’ silhouettes. Cassandra answered Horace’s questing by sobbing even louder. Halt could almost touch the knight in question’s despair; it seemed to radiate through the crowded little space in the cart.

“We don’t have time for meaningless chit-chat,” Halt said gruffly. “Try to get some sleep. Who knows when the next opportunity to do so comes by.” As soon as he said it, he knew no one would be able to sleep. The events of that day had marked them and tension was in the air. Halt had the experience, though, that it helps to chase away the fear, if someone takes lead and gives a clear task. It would help them to get their minds off of what was happening. After a while, Cassandra’s sobbing stopped, leaving the companions to all think quietly about their fate.