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

Chapter 8

Halt tried to break free, although he knew it was pointless. There were guards everywhere. Even if he managed to free himself, he'd be stuck again within seconds. He felt how a rough piece of rope was tied around his arms and he angrily set his jaw. It was hopeless. He had nearly been away, he had been so close! But for some odd reason, ranger tricks didn't work on the Scoti. They just laughed at him and put him back were they'd initially locked him up. This had been Halt's fifth time to try and escape and by now he knew the way from the exit to his cell by heart. The previous times he had tried to memorize the positions of the guards, but they'd been different every single time. It was as though the Scoti didn't have a plan or some sort of organization, but just randomly did something. He had tried escaping using multiply routes and every time the routes had taken him to the exit – and not a single step further. Every time he reached to door to the outside world the guards found him and escorted him back to his cell. It was frustrating.
                              Halt automatically headed for the hallway on the right, which would lead to a circular staircase, headed around the corner five times, and led three steps down to eventually lead to his cell, but the guards roughly took him the other way. Halt frowned. He had never been this way before. They walked through the labyrinth-like corridors for at least a quarter of an hour, which was more than enough time for Halt to get lost again, what extremely annoyed him.
                              Eventually they reached the black door with silver scratches in it. This was something Halt did recognise: it was the door to the room in which he had spent a lot of his time the past days. Much to his disliking, a feeling of fear built up inside of him. Not again... He'd only just had one day of rest. Evan had finally left him alone with his feelings of guilt. Unconsciously he braced himself when the guards opened the door and wanted to push him inside. Halt knew perfectly fine that struggling was pointless, but if he'd cooperate with the guards, he was afraid he'd lose all hope, so he held on to his single way of resistance.
                              A dreary laugh caused goose bumps to form all over Halt's body. Two of the guards took advantage of the distraction and pushed Halt to the middle of the room, into the chair and fastened the iron chains around his wrists and ankles. They left the room, slamming the door shut behind them. For some seconds, only the reverberation of the sound could be heard throughout the room. Slowly Evan then made his way out of the shadows and even though his laugh had sounded sadistic, he had a content look on his face.
"Hello, Halt," he greeted him coolly. With his arms folded casually behind his back, he started to circle around Halt, as he had done every time before when he'd accomplished something that would hurt or sadden the ranger. The little hairs on the back of his neck rose. Halt suspected he would have bad memories of this day for a long time in the future. Evan chuckled, without any sign of amusement. "So, you thought you could just walk out of here whenever you want?" Halt didn't answer. Evan already knew the answer anyway. He stared ferociously at the wall in front of him, while Evan stood behind his stool. Evan chuckled again, and Halt could tell he was very satisfied with the development of matters.
"Why are you still keeping me here?" Halt asked, knowing he shouldn't. "I already told you everything." Evan came back into view.
"Oh, but it was never really about the information," Evan remarked evilly. "You told me what I wanted to hear, yes, but you still have to do what I want you to do." Halt frowned. He had lost all sense of the situation.
"What could I ever do for you?!" Halt asked, his question directed as much to himself as to the man in front of him. Evan leaned forward, placing one hand on the chair.
"Suffer," he snapped, and all that was to be seen in his eyes, was hate.

Tensed, Horace stared at the bend in the road, where Cassandra had disappeared from view sometime earlier that day. They had already been walking for two days, enlarging the distance between the Scoti headquarters and themselves greater every minute. They had taken a break to let their feet rest for a moment. Horace had preferred to continue, but his companions couldn't keep up with his continuous march. He had walked as fast as possible and kept the breaks short, but this wasn't the most ideal manner of travelling for anyone who wasn't trained for it.
                              Positioned on a small hill, a mile or two back on the road, they had seen smoke rising from between the trees up into the air. They figured there had to be a village there. Cassandra had gone to check whether or not there were any Scoti or other hostile groups there. She had been gone for an hour and a half or so and Horace started to worry. Seated on a trunk near the road, he had been watching the bend to see if she came back already.
"She'll return in a moment," Alyss said friendly, placing her hand on his shoulder. Horace turned towards her and tried to answer her reassuring smile. "Look, there she is now," the courier added, nodding toward the road. Horace turned around in a flash and was relieved to find Alyss was right: smiling happily Cassandra walked into view. He stood to his feet and walked towards her. He heard Duncan, Pauling and Alyss follow behind him.
"And?" the king asked his daughter.
"It is a small village and its inhabitants have no clue of what is happening in the rest of the world. So even though they're all Scoti, we will be safe there," she summed up. Horace hesitated. He preferred to rely on his own skills, to build a camp somewhere in the woods. "They also have an inn."
"Let's go there!" Horace exclaimed happily, taking off in the directing of the village.
                              They arrived half an hour later. The fact that there was an inn surprised Horace: the village didn't look like many visitors came by and there were only about fifteen houses standing around. He shrugged. An inn meant they could have a decent bed for the night and it secured safety. And a good, warm meal, of course. Horace grinned. He could appreciate a warm meal.
                              There was a little square amidst the village, where two old men were smoking pipes and bringing up nostalgic memories from their youth. The houses, which were more like huts, were positioned in a rough circle around the square. The inn was settled opposite from where the Araluans were standing; it was the only building to have more than one floor. With his friends on his heels, Horace headed for the relatively tall building. He pushed open the door, his hand on his sword, just in case. The scent of a fireplace and roasted meat greeted them, as did the sound of happy chatter, clinking cutlery and the crackling of the fire. He walked inside, his mouth watering already. Some people looked in their general direction for a moment, but most just ignored them and continued on their meal.
"Hello strangers! Can I offer you something?" a small, balding man greeted them. He was wearing an apron and was rubbing dry a mug, using an old piece of cloth; something told Horace this was the innkeeper.
"We would like a bed for the night and a meal, please," Duncan answered politely.
"Only one of both?" the man chuckled, hiccupping slightly. "I'm only joking of course. It will be taken care of! You can take a seat over here." The innkeeper guided them to a table in the corner of the room, before heading off to the bar, behind which he disappeared. Horace followed the man with his eyes, bewildered. What a lunatic. Cassandra poked his side.
"Stop looking that odd!" she said, giggling. Horace made a funny face, before going back into serious mode.
                              After several minutes had passed, a chubby woman with a red head hurried towards them. She was also wearing an apron and she carried a tray with multiple mugs on it.
"May I offer you something to drink while you wait for your meal?" she asked with a broad smile. Gratefully, they all grabbed a mug from the tray. Horace didn't bother looking what was in it and took a large sip. A tingling feeling shot through his entire body and for a moment he was seeing stars. Not the kind of starts you see when you get hit in the head, but more like an explosion of colours. Cassandra's face had turned blue with yellow spots and the table was suddenly purple. Trying to blink the confusing colours away, Horace took a look in his mug. It looked like regular beer. He shrugged. What did it matter, after all? He took another sip and suppressed the urge to burst out laughing: Duncan's hair had turned pink and orange and puffing clouds of green arose from it.
                              The innkeeper arrived, bringing a plate of roasted poultry with him. Horace's eyes turned big and he dug in as soon as the plate had reached the table. He didn't even notice his companions started laughing about his never-ending appetite. After a while he leaned back, stuffed. This was the real life! The woman came back to refill his mug with the same liquid as earlier and he eagerly took a sip. Besides the colour changes he had now sort of got used of, he saw some things of which he swore they should not be moving started spinning around. For a moment he just sat there, astonished, looking at all of it, meanwhile drinking the rest of his drink. Alyss yawned and quickly covered her mouth with her green and yellow spotted hand.
"I think I'll be heading for a bed," she said, her voice sounding strangely far away, as though Horace was listening to her from under water. Pauline and Duncan also got to their feet and the three of them looked questioningly at Horace and Cassandra. Cassandra got to her feet too, but Horace shook his head, causing the nearly empty room to start shaking; he didn't want this experience to end yet. The others made their way to the stairs in the corner of the inn, heading for their rooms. Horace remained unmoving, looking at the two remaining guests in the inn. The woman came by again to refill his mug for the second time, still smiling broadly. Her apron was gold with a poison-like shade of green and waved around like a ferocious sea.
                              It angered him. All those colours and movements... it wasn't fair! They could do what they wanted to, they could even change the way he saw the world! And here he was, having to run from some crazy guy, being forced to leave his friends behind. It made him feel sick! He roughly arose, kicking his chair away in the same movement. The room was swinging around again, but this time it was different and he noticed his legs were swaying underneath him, which only made him angrier. How dared his legs abandon him like this?! How dared that Evan guy keep Halt prisoner?! How dared the Scoti to separate Will and Evanlyn from him?! Yelling ferociously, Horace pulled a knife out of the remains of their dinner and stabbed the table with it. The blade was stuck in the table, shaking slightly.
                              For a second, Horace regarded it. Then he pushed the table away, causing it to fall on its side. Take that, stupid table! You deserved it! Hah! Grinning furiously, he targeted a chair, breaking it against the wall. The innkeeper and his wife came running in from the kitchen. The woman screamed and hurried to get back immediately. The man looked at his destroyed furniture, startled, and pointed out a small butter knife towards Horace, as if it could defend him. Horace sent him a mad glance and the innkeeper paled; he obviously wasn't used to violent visitors. For some reason that amused Horace and he slammed another chair into the wall.
"Hah!" he exclaimed. "Behold, chair! I am your vanquisher!" He staggered around for a moment, before triumphantly sticking a chair leg in the air. The innkeeper dived back into his kitchen. The last two guests had fled the inn as well.
                              A dizzy feeling got a hold of Horace and he could just make out a boy of about seventeen year old coming towards him, before everything became black.