John Flanagan: The Kings of Clonmel

The raiding party would have time to get away, he thought. But there was little he could do about that now. The large marquee where the Outsiders were camped was slowly coming to life as well. Doubtless they'd been awake all along, watching for their accomplices to carry out their plan. Now, of course, they could hardly pretend to have slept through the racket.

Halt slowed his pace to a jog as he reached the trees at the edge of the beach. He stopped inside the shadows they cast and took several deep breaths. Like all Rangers, he was in excellent physical condition. But it never hurt to rest when you had the chance and he could feel the adrenaline surging through his system, making his breath come faster and his heart beat more rapidly.

Calm down, he told his racing body, and he felt his pulse begin to slow to a more normal rate.

All in all, it had been a successful night, he thought. He would have preferred it if one or two of the raiders had been left behind for the villagers to question. But at least he'd thwarted their plan to burn the boats.

And he would have thrown a large doubt into their minds as they tried to work out what had gone wrong with their plan and who had interfered.

He smiled grimly to himself. He liked the idea that the Outsiders might have something to worry about. Perhaps it was that small satisfaction that took the edge off his natural sense of caution. As he turned to head for the spot where he had left Abelard, he blundered into a man who stepped from behind a tree.

'Who the blazes are you?' the man demanded. He had a heavy spiked club in his hand and he swung it up now, preparing for a crushing blow onto this stranger's head.

The immediate act of aggression told Halt that this was another of the Outsiders' gang. Recovering quickly from his shock, he flat-kicked sideways at the inside of the man's left knee. The leg buckled and the man collapsed with a cry of pain, holding his injured knee and yelling.

'Help! Help! Over here!'

Halt heard answering cries and the sound of bodies running through the trees and bushes. Moving like a wraith, he sped away. He had to reach Abelard before the pursuers caught up with him.

The Gathering was coming to a close.

The two final-year apprentices were being given the usual initiation into the ranks. Will grinned ruefully as he watched, feeling Gilan's elbow dig into his ribs. Not too long ago, he had been in a similar position, feeling dumbfounded as Crowley bumbled and mumbled and hurled bits of paper around, making light of the whole process.

He watched the two new Rangers as they mirrored his own total bemusement. After five years' hard work and faithful application, a graduating apprentice expected some kind of ceremony. Something to mark what was undoubtedly the most important day of his life to date. And so the Ranger Corps, in its own unique style, went out of its way to avoid any such thing. Because, as Will realised now, graduation wasn't an end. It was the beginning of a much larger and more important phase of life.

Ostensibly, only Crowley, the two apprentices and their mentors were present. But in fact, they were surrounded by a group of silent, unseen spectators as the rest of the Rangers stood concealed among the trees, ready to leap out with their cries of congratulation and welcome, just as they did at every induction.

The boys' parents and several family members had been admitted to the area to see their sons graduate, travelling the last ten kilometres of the trip blindfolded, as the location of the Gathering Ground was a closely guarded secret. They too watched with anticipation and amusement from the shadow of the trees.

Only the younger apprentices were absent. It was a strict rule that nobody would ever tell an apprentice what lay in store for him at his graduation and so three of the Corps' older Rangers had taken the first- and third-year apprentices (there were no second- or fourth-year trainees this Gathering) to a site well away from the Gathering Ground for a final series of lectures. They would return in time for the feast that followed the inductions.

Crowley was coming to the end of his usual, masterful performance.

'So,' he said, eyes down and reading at breakneck pace as if he wanted to get through the entire matter as quickly as possible, 'you, Clarke of Caraway Fief, and you, Skinner of wherever it is you come from… yes… hang on a minute, where is it… Martinsyde Fief, of course… have completed all aspects of your training and are ready to be inducted as full members of the Ranger Corps. So I hereby induct you, by the authority granted to me as Commandant of the Ranger Corps and blah blah blah and so on and so on and why don't you both shake hands and that should just about do it.'

He stood quickly, gathering his papers, and shook hands perfunctorily with the two startled graduates. 'Bit like a wedding, really, isn't it?'

The two boys looked at one another, then at Crowley. He seemed to notice their bewilderment for the first time and hesitated, looking at them with a puzzled expression. 'Was there something else? Did I miss something?' He scratched his head and did a quick review of events. Will couldn't help grinning as enlightenment seemed to dawn on the Ranger Commandant.

'Oh, of course! You'll want your silver geegaws, won't you?' Crowley beckoned to Skinner and Clarke's two mentors, who stepped forward with the tiny, glittering objects that every Ranger held dear. 'Well, might as well hand 'em over!' he said casually.

Then, as the two Rangers went to hang the Silver Oakleaf amulets round the necks of their former apprentices, the other Rangers stepped out into the clearing, throwing back the cloaks that had concealed them and surrounding the little group.

'Congratulations!'

The massive roar went up through the trees, waking the birds who were roosting among the branches, frightening them into a chorus that echoed the roar of approval. As the Rangers surged forward to congratulate their newest members, pounding their backs, laughing and shaking their hands, Will saw the two surprised faces transformed as Clarke and Skinner realised they had been the victims of a giant practical joke. He also saw the quick tears of pleasure and pride that sprang to their eyes as they realised that now they were fully fledged members of this elite group. He felt his own eyes sting slightly in memory of his moment of realisation, then he stepped forward to take his turn at welcoming the new members.

'Congratulations. It's been a long five years, hasn't it?'

Skinner was currently being hugged by his tearful mother, a rather massively built woman who dwarfed her slim, dark-haired son.

'I'm so proud of you! So proud! If only your father could be here!' she was saying. Skinner managed to extricate himself from her bear hug long enough to shake Will's hand.

'There, there, Mother,' he said. 'It's all right.' Then to Will, he admitted, 'Sometimes I thought I'd never make it.'

Will nodded. 'Particularly over the last few months?' he asked and Skinner's eyes widened in surprise.

'How did you know that?'

'We all feel that way at the end,' Will told him. 'You realise what a big task lies in front of you.'

'You mean… you felt that way too?' Skinner said in disbelief. Skinner found it difficult to believe that a legend like Will Treaty could ever feel self-doubt.

Will grinned easily. 'I was terrified,' he admitted. 'But trust your training. When you get your assignment, you'll find you know a lot more than you think.'

He left Skinner engulfed by a further explosion of motherly pride and moved on to Clarke, who was surrounded by a small group consisting of his parents, his brother and his mentor. After offering his congratulations, Will asked, 'Any idea where you'll be assigned yet?'