John Flanagan - The Royal Ranger

Her mind was playing tricks on her, she realised. She was too exhausted to think straight. And if she was in such a bad way, how were the children managing? She recalled Will’s words: If you’re still ahead of them at sunset, look for a good hiding place off the road.

Easier said than done, she thought. Where could they hide in this open country? She turned and looked down the road behind them. There was no sign of any pursuit. Neither was there any sign of Will. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered how she had left him to face Ruhl and his men alone.

“I should have stayed with you,” she said softly, even though she knew he would never have allowed her to do so. In her mind’s eye, she could see the slavers spreading out in a long line to encircle Will, possibly waiting till his supply of arrows was exhausted then moving in and killing him.

Or would it be as simple as that, she wondered. From what the children had told her, Jory Ruhl was capable of savage acts of vengeance against those he thought had thwarted him. And Will had certainly done that.

Possibly they had tortured him before killing him. Maybe they were still doing so.

She looked to her left and saw the low line of cliffs she had noticed when they had first passed this way. She stopped, trying to force her mind to think clearly. She had noticed something about those cliffs, but what was it? It had to do with Will’s instruction to her—something about hiding. She realised she was swaying with exhaustion. The children had stopped too. Several of them sank to the road and fell instantly asleep on the hard-packed earth and fine gravel. Tug and Bumper halted in place, looking at her curiously for instructions.

The cliffs. Hiding after sunset. What was it? Then she remembered. She had seen what looked like caves at the base of the cliffs. Caves and tumbled rocks where they could hide and find shelter and rest for the night. In the dark, they’d be invisible from the road if Ruhl and his men passed by.

Suddenly, she was re-energised and she strode among the children, shaking and prodding those who had lain down.

“Get up! Wake up! We’ve got to get off the road!” she shouted at them. Predictably, Julia had been one of those to collapse and fall asleep. She whined now as Maddie poked her behind with the tip of her bow.

“Stop it! That hurts! Leave me alone!”

“It’ll hurt more if I use an arrow,” Maddie told her grimly. “Now get up!” She emphasised the order by kicking Julia lightly in the side of the knee—not enough to injure her, just enough to cause pain. Julia howled in protest. But she clambered to her feet, as did the others.

Maddie pointed to the line of cliffs. “There are caves over there and we can spend the night in them,” she said. “You can sleep all you want once we get there. But for now you have to make one last effort. Now come on!”

She started off the road and they shambled after her. Suddenly mindful that Ruhl’s tracker might still be alive, she stopped them. Ten of them walking one behind the other would leave an unmistakable trail through the grass, visible even in the dark.

“Spread out,” she told them. “Don’t all walk behind me. Spread out to the sides.”

They obeyed numbly. The promise that they could soon rest lifted them for one last effort and they pushed their way through the grass towards the dark line of cliffs, stumbling, occasionally falling full length, but managing somehow to keep going.

At last, they reached the shelter of the tumbled rocks at the foot of the cliffs. Maddie had picked out one opening in the cliff face—a large hole that promised to open into a sizeable cave. But it turned out to be nothing more than a shallow depression, no more than two metres deep. She had a moment of panic. What if all the cave entrances proved to be like this one? She tried another and was equally disappointed. The cave was barely four metres deep and very narrow. There wasn’t enough room for ten children, two horses and an exhausted apprentice Ranger.

She inspected another three with similar results. Oddly enough, it was one of the smaller holes that proved to be the right choice. It was little more than a narrow slit in the cliff face, just over two metres high. But inside, it opened into a wide, high space. The floor was covered in soft sand and there was room for all of them. Bumper and Tug had a difficult time squeezing through the entrance, but they made it. Maddie looked around, satisfied. There was even a chance that pursuers, if there were any, having checked the larger caves, would ignore this insignificant opening altogether.

“I’m sorry we’ve got nothing to eat,” she said. Then she realised she was talking to herself. Her companions weren’t interested in food. They had each picked a spot and they were lying sprawled on the sand, sleeping the sleep of the totally exhausted.

“I suppose I should set a watch,” she said, knowing there was nobody to keep it but herself. Bumper snorted at her.

Sleep. We’ll warn you if anyone’s coming.

“I suppose you will,” she said. She took off her cloak, folded it and used it as a pillow. She lay back on the sand and sighed contentedly. Before the sigh had died away, she was asleep.

There were no more arrows.

Will watched as the men who encircled him began to move closer, gradually becoming bolder as they realised that he wasn’t shooting—that he had nothing left to shoot.

He shook his head hopelessly. He’d played the game out as long as he could, hoping to give Maddie enough time to get away. Now it was over, ending the way he had known it would. They had outflanked him, then begun to close in from all sides. He’d kept them at bay as long as he could, snapping off shots at them whenever he saw a chance to do so. And now there were eight men surrounding him, slowly moving in. Two of them had arrow wounds, but they were still capable of fighting. All he had left were his saxe and his throwing knife.

He slipped his bow into the leather loop at the back of his boot and bent forward, using his body and back muscles to unstring it. He’d crafted the bow himself and it was one of the best he had ever made. Somehow, he didn’t want such a fine weapon to fall into the slavers’ hands. He tossed it away, into the long grass.

Ruhl was facing him, barely fifteen metres away. He could make out the man’s features in the gathering dusk, could see the anger there, and the hatred.

Come a little closer, Jory, he thought. His hand hovered over the throwing knife in its scabbard. The men around him all carried spears and one of them had a crossbow trained on him. Ruhl, aware of his own limitations as a marksman, had passed it over to him. His own favoured long-distance weapon was the javelin, and he had three of the light spears in a leather tube on his back. A sword was in his hand as he moved closer.

Just another step, Will thought. His muscles tensed as he prepared to draw the throwing knife and send it spinning into Ruhl’s heart.

He heard a slight noise behind him. Something flicked past his eyes and suddenly a noose of rope tightened round his arms, pinning them at the elbows. He turned, furious that he had waited too long and the chance to kill Ruhl was gone.

The Stealer laughed, guessing what was going through Will’s mind.

“Good work, Anselmo,” he said.

The Iberian quickly dropped more loops of the rope around Will’s arms, pulling them tight. “You killed my friend,” he snarled, as he moved around in front of Will, thrusting his bearded face close to the Ranger’s.

Will raised one eyebrow sardonically. “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Pity I missed you.”

Without warning, Anselmo jerked his head forward and butted Will in the face. Will staggered, unable to regain balance with his arms pinioned, and fell awkwardly. Ruhl stepped forward quickly, aiming a kick at him as he lay helpless. Then he reached down, grabbed the front of his jerkin and hauled him roughly to his feet. They confronted each other for several seconds.