John Flanagan - The Royal Ranger

The crossbowman stood. He had seen his target drop to the ground as he shot.

“I got him!” he yelled in triumph.

Ruhl snarled at him. “You missed him, you fool! There he goes again!”

The dark figure was back on his feet, moving quickly to the crest of the cliff. As Ruhl urged his men on, the crossbowman paused to reload. He put his foot into the stirrup at the front of the short, stubby bow, and heaved back on the thick string with both arms. Will turned as he reached the top of the path. The crossbowman was in the open, straining at the heavy string on his weapon. Will hated crossbowmen. He nocked an arrow, drew back and released, sending a shaft flashing down the cliff face.

It struck the crossbowman full in the chest. He gave a shriek of pain, then staggered back and fell, dropping his weapon. Ruhl paused to take it from his lifeless hands, and dragged the quiver of short, heavy quarrels free. Then he glanced back up to the top of the cliff. But the dark figure, who had been briefly silhouetted when he turned to shoot, was gone.

“Come on!” he yelled, leading a renewed rush. “There’s only one man!”

As he ploughed up the path, it occurred to him that it might be only one man, but the casual ease with which he had picked off the crossbowman might prove to be a problem.

The lock on the gate was stiff and Maddie wrestled with it for what seemed like a lifetime before it suddenly sprang free. She dragged the gate open and was met by a chorus of frightened voices. In the darkness, she sensed rather than saw the children inching back—away from her.

“It’s all right. I’m a friend. I’m here to help you.”

She tried to make her voice calm and reassuring. But the tension and excitement made it come out like a high-pitched, nervous shriek. She realised that they could only see her as a cloaked silhouette against the lights on the beach. She swung her cloak off and held her arms out.

“Look! I’m a girl! I’m a Ranger and I’m here to help you. Come on now.”

Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness in the cave and she could make them out now—a group of dim shapes huddled together. One, a boy who was taller than the others, stepped forward suspiciously.

“You’re not a Ranger. Girls aren’t Rangers,” he said.

She took a deep breath. She wanted to grab his nose and drag him out of the cave. But she knew if she did that, she’d never get the rest of them moving. They’d huddle together and cry. She forced herself to be calm, forced her voice into a lower, more normal, register.

“Well, I am. My name’s Maddie and I’m apprenticed to Will Treaty.”

There was a low murmur of recognition. Everyone had heard of Will Treaty. She realised the power of the name and invoked it again.

“Will wants you to come with me and go back up the cliff. He’ll meet up with us tomorrow, after he’s finished off the Stealer and his friends. Now come on.”

They hesitated still and she took the tall boy’s arm. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Tim. Tim Stoker.”

“Well, listen to me, Tim. I need you to help me. Take charge of the little ones and get them up that path. I’ll bring up the rear to make sure no one follows us. All right?”

She made her voice as calm and reassuring as she could, looking steadily into his eyes. She saw his back straighten as he accepted the job she’d give him.

“All right,” he said. Then he turned to the others. “Follow me, everyone. Do as the Ranger says. It’s all right. She’ll look after us.”

Nervously, reluctantly, they began to move out of the cave, the tall boy leading the way. Maddie stood to one side, ushering them out, pointing them towards the cliff path, shoving them gently on their way. Moving with a maddening lack of speed, they began to climb the rough track behind Tim Stoker.

The Storyman was a coward.

He was more than happy to frighten young children with tales of the Stealer in the Night, and the terrible things that would follow if they told their parents one word about him. But when it came to following a skilled archer up a dark cliff, that was another matter altogether.

He too had noticed the casual ease with which Will had brought down the man with the crossbow. He’d seen another gang member dropped cold on the deck of the ship, and a third spun around by an arrow through the arm. He wasn’t going to chance that he’d be the next victim. It was one thing to terrify helpless children. Facing a skilled and determined warrior was another matter altogether.

He hesitated at the base of the cliff. He looked back uncertainly towards the camp, then narrowed his eyes. Something was moving on the path by the cave where the prisoners were confined. He strained his eyes and uttered a low curse. There was a line of figures wending their way up the path.

He turned back to alert his companions. But the nearest was halfway up the cliff, and Jory himself was already scrambling over the crest. He came to a decision. Let Jory and the others take care of the lone archer. He’d recapture the prisoners, who had somehow escaped.

He turned and began to run back towards the camp site.

Will saw the first figure come over the crest of the cliff, crouching low to avoid an arrow. He snorted disdainfully. If he wanted to, he could drop the man easily, crouching or not. But that wasn’t his task at the moment. He had to lead them away to give Maddie a chance.

He started to run through the waist-high scrub. Then he stopped, grabbed a nearby bush and shook it violently, kicking at its lower branches to snap them.

Ruhl heard him. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw the dark figure moving away.

“This way!” the Stealer yelled, then added, “Spread out! Don’t make an easy target!”

Will nodded in satisfaction. He’d keep making noise and letting them see him until dawn. Then, when he’d led them far to the south, he’d start moving more cautiously and double back to meet Maddie.

Maddie heard feet pounding on the beach as the Storyman approached. She was a few metres from the cave, ready to intercept any pursuit. The last of the children was halfway to the first switchback, some five metres above the beach. She shrank back against the rough cliff face, pulling the cloak around her. She took a shot from her pouch and loaded it into the sling.

The Storyman burst into sight from behind the tents and ran past without seeing her, moving too fast for her to react. He plunged up the path after the children, eating up the distance with his long strides. They began to cry out in terror as they saw the frightening blue-cloaked figure chasing them. The last in line, a girl, tried to run and slipped on the loose shale. Then the Storyman was upon her, his cloak swirling around him like the wings of some evil night creature. He dragged her upright, shouting furiously at her. The girl cried in terror, held fast in his grip.

Maddie hesitated. If she threw now, the shot might well hit the girl.

“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you disobeyed? Didn’t I? Didn’t I?” The Storyman shook the girl violently and she screamed all the louder as her terror grew.

“Leave her alone! Let her go, you coward!”

The young voice cut through the Storyman’s shouting and the girl’s sobs. It was Tim Stoker, the tall boy Maddie had ordered to lead the way. He came plunging back down the cliff path now, shoving past the other children, sliding and slipping on the loose rocks. Off balance and unable to stop, he blundered awkwardly into the Storyman, who released the girl, throwing her back against the cliff face. He grabbed Tim’s collar instead, reaching with his free hand to a draw a long-bladed knife from a boot sheath.

“Defy me, would you? Let’s see how brave you are when I cut you, you little swine!”