Ranger's Apprentice 3 & 4 Bindup (20 page)

Deparnieux seemed to decide that he had prolonged matters long enough. The two Araluans detected a subtle change in the tempo and power of his blows. The young knight swayed under the onslaught and tried to give ground. But the black armoured figure urged his
battlehorse after him, following him relentlessly, raining blows on sword, shield or helmet at will. Finally, there was a duller sound as Deparnieux's sword struck a vulnerable point – the chain mail protecting his opponent's neck.

The black knight knew it was a killing stroke. Contemptuously, he wheeled his horse towards the castle gate, without a backward glance at his opponent, who was crumpling sideways from the saddle. The ramparts resounded with cheers as the limp figure crashed onto the turf and lay, unmoving. The gate slammed shut behind the victor.

Halt stroked his beard thoughtfully.

‘I think,' he said, ‘we might have found the key to our problem with Lord Deparnieux.'

It was midmorning when Evanlyn woke, although she had no way of knowing it.

There was no sign of the sun. It was hidden behind the low-lying snow clouds. The light was so flat and diffused that it seemed to come from every direction and no direction. It was daylight and that was all she knew.

She eased her cramped muscles and looked around. Beside her, Will sat upright and wide awake. He may have been that way for hours or he may have woken only minutes before her. There was no way of knowing. He simply sat, eyes wide, rocking slowly back and forwards and staring straight ahead.

It tore at her heart to see him that way.

As she stirred, the horse sensed her movement and began to heave itself back upright. She moved away from the animal to give it room, taking Will's hand and pulling him away too. The horse came to its feet and stamped once
or twice, then shook itself and snorted violently, blowing a huge cloud of steam into the frigid air.

The snow had stopped during the night but not before it had obliterated all sign of their passage to the hollow under the tree. It would be a hard slog back to the path, Evanlyn realised, but at least she was rested now. She thought briefly about eating – there was a small supply of food in the pack – then she discarded the idea, in favour of moving on and putting more distance between them and Hallasholm. She had no way of knowing that the search parties had already been recalled by Borsa.

She decided that she could live for a few more hours with the empty feeling in her belly, but not with the raging thirst that had dried her mouth. Moving to a point where the snow lay thick and new, she took a handful and put it in her mouth, letting it melt there. It produced a surprisingly small amount of water, so she repeated the action several more times. She considered showing Will how to do the same but suddenly felt impatient to be on their way. If he was thirsty, she reasoned, he could work it out for himself.

She strapped the pack saddle onto the pony's back again, tightening the girths as much as she could. The pony, canny in the way of its kind, tried to suck air and expand his belly, so he could exhale and allow the straps to loosen. But Evanlyn had been awake to that trick since she had been eleven years old. She kneed the horse firmly in the belly, forcing him to gasp the air out, then, as his body contracted, she jerked the straps tight. The pony turned a reproachful eye on her but otherwise accepted his fate philosophically.

As she led the way out from under the tree, forcing a path once more through the waist-deep snow, Will made a move to mount the pony. She stopped him, holding up a hand and saying, ‘No', gently to him. They needed the pony and Will should be rested after an undisturbed night in the relative warmth of the snow hollow. Later, she might need to let him ride the horse again. She knew his reserves of strength couldn't be very deep. But for now, he could walk and they could preserve the little horse's strength as much as possible.

It took five minutes' hard work to reach the relatively easy going of the path once more and, already breathing hard and wet with perspiration, she doggedly resumed her uphill path.

The horse plodded patiently behind her and Will walked half a pace to her right. His low-level, nonstop keening was beginning to set her teeth on edge, but she did her best to ignore it, knowing that he couldn't help it. For the hundredth time since they had left Hallasholm, she found herself wishing for the day when he might have finally expelled all traces of the drug from his system.

That day was to be further postponed, unfortunately. After a couple of hours of solid, dogged plodding through the fresh fallen snow, Will was suddenly seized by an uncontrollable fit of shivering.

His teeth clattered and his body shook and trembled and heaved as he fell to the ground, rolling helplessly in the snow, his knees drawn up to his chest. One hand flailed uselessly at the snow, while the other was jammed firmly in his mouth. She watched in horror as the moaning turned to a shuddering cry, dragged deep from his soul and torn with agony.

She dropped to her knees beside him, putting her arms around him and trying to soothe him with her voice. But he jerked away from her, rolling and thrashing again, and she realised that there was nothing for it but to give him a little of the warmweed Erak had put in the pack. She'd seen it already when she had searched for warm clothes and blankets. There was a small amount of the dried leaf packed in an oiled linen pouch. Jarl Erak had warned her that Will would not be able to quit the drug straight away. Warmweed built up a physical dependence in its addicts, so that total deprivation meant actual pain.

She would have to gradually wean the boy off the drug, he had told her, by giving him ever-decreasing amounts at ever-increasing intervals until he could cope with the deprivation.

Evanlyn had hoped that Erak might be wrong. She knew that each dose of the drug extended the time of the dependence further and she had hoped that she might just be able to cut off Will's supply straight away and help him cope with the pain and torment.

But there was no help for him as he was now and, reluctantly, she let him have a small amount of the dried leaf, shielding the pouch with her body as she took it from the pack, then again when she returned it.

Will seized the small handful of the grey, herb-like substance with horrifying eagerness. For the first time, she saw a glint of expression in his normally dull gaze. But his attention was totally focused on the drug and she came to realise how completely it ruled his life and his mind these days. Silently, tears forming in her eyes, she watched the hollow shell who had once been such a vital, enthusiastic
companion. She condemned Borsa and the other Skandians who had caused this to the hottest corner of whatever hell they believed in.

The apprentice Ranger crammed the small amount of leaf into his mouth, forcing it into one cheek and allowing the saliva to soak it and release the juice that would carry the narcotic through his system. Gradually, the shuddering spasms calmed down, until he knelt in the snow beside the path, hunched over, rocking gently backwards and forwards, eyes slitted, once again moaning softly to himself in whatever lonely, pain-filled world he inhabited.

The pony watched these events incuriously, from time to time pawing a hole in the snow and nibbling at the sparse strands of grass exposed there. Eventually, Evanlyn took Will's hand and pulled him, unresisting, to his feet.

‘Come on, Will,' she said in a dispirited voice. ‘We've still got a long way to go.'

As she said it, she realised she was talking about a lot more than just the distance to the hunting cabin in the mountains.

Crooning softly and tunelessly to himself, Will followed her as she led the way upwards yet again.

The daylight was nearly gone by the time she found the cabin.

She had gone past it twice, following the instructions that Erak had made her commit to memory: a left fork in the trail a hundred paces after a lightning blasted pine; a narrow gully that led downwards for a hundred metres,
then curved back up again, and a shallow ford across a small stream.

Mentally, she ticked off the landmarks, peering this way and that through the gloom of evening as it settled over the trees. But she could see no sign of the hut – only the featureless white of the snow.

Finally she realised that, of course, the hut would not be visible as a hut. It would be virtually buried in snow itself. Once she saw that simple fact, she became aware of a large mound not ten metres away from her. Dropping the pony's lead rein, she blundered forward, the snow catching at her legs, and made out the edge of a wall, then the slope of a roof, then the hard angle of a corner, more regular and even than any shape that nature might have concealed under the snow.

Moving round the large mound, she found the leeward side was more exposed and she could see the door and a small window, covered with a wooden shutter. She reflected that it was lucky the door had been built on the lee side of the cabin, then realised that this would have been intentional. Only a fool would place a door on the side where the prevailing north winds would pile the snow deeply.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she retraced her steps and took the pony's bridle. Will's meagre strength had given out hours before and he was once more slumped on the pack saddle, swaying and moaning in that continuous undertone. She led the pony to stand by the tiny porch that adjoined the doorway, tying the lead rein to a tether post that was set in the ground there. There was probably no need for that, she reflected. The pony had shown no inclination to leave her so
far. However, it did no harm to take precautions. The last thing she wanted was to have to hunt for the pony and its rider through the gathering dusk.

Satisfied that the bridle was tied firmly, she shoved the ill-fitting door open and entered the hut to take stock of their new refuge and its contents.

It was small, just one main room with a rough table and two benches either side. Against the far wall, there was a wooden cot, with what appeared to be a straw-filled mattress on it. The room smelt of damp and mustiness and she wrinkled her nose momentarily, then realised that once she had a fire burning in the stone fireplace that comprised most of the western wall, she could do something to dispel the smells.

There was a handy supply of firewood stacked by the fireplace, with a flint and iron as well.

She spent a few minutes kindling a fire and the cheerful crack of the flames, and the flickering yellow light they cast over the interior of the hut, raised her spirits.

In a corner that was obviously a pantry, she found flour and dried meat and beans. There was some evidence that small scavengers had been at the supplies but she felt that they would probably be sufficient for the next month or two. She and Will wouldn't be feasting, she knew, but they would survive.

Particularly if he recovered any of his old skill as he shook off the effects of the drug. Because now, she saw, there was a small hunting bow and a leather quiver of arrows hanging behind the door of the hut. Even in the deep winter there would be some small game available – snowshoe rabbits and snow hares, mainly. They might well
be able to supplement the food that had been stored here.

If not – she shrugged at the thought. At least they were free and at least she had a chance to break Will's warmweed addiction. She would face other problems as they arose.

The interior of the hut was becoming warmer now and she went back outside, motioning for Will to dismount. As he did so, she frowned at the sight of the pony. He could hardly stay outside, she realised. Yet the thought of sharing the single-roomed hut with him for the winter held little appeal. The previous night, even though she had been grateful for his warmth, she had been totally conscious of the powerful animal odour that came from him.

Telling Will to wait by the door, she moved around the hut to the side she had so far not inspected, and found her answer there.

There was a low lean-to built onto the hut at this point. It was open at one side but would provide sufficient shelter for the pony through the winter. There were a few items of abandoned tack and leather harness hanging on iron nails there, along with some simple tools. Obviously, it was intended as a stable.

It had another use as well, she was grateful to see. Along the outer wall of the hut, against which the lean-to abutted, there was a large stack of cut firewood. She was relieved to see it there. Already she had wondered what she might do when she had exhausted the small supply in the hut itself.

She brought the pony to the lean-to, and removed the pack saddle and bridle from him. There was a feed tub there and a small supply of grain, so she let him have some.
He stood gratefully, munching on the grain, grinding his teeth together in that peaceful way that horses have.

At this stage, she could find no water for him. But she'd seen him licking at the snow during the day and reasoned that he could satisfy himself that way until she could arrange some alternative. The small supply of grain in the stable would obviously not last him until spring and she worried about that fact for a moment. Then, in line with her new philosophy of not worrying about matters she couldn't rectify, she shrugged the thought away.

‘Worry about it later,' she told herself, and returned to the cabin proper.

She found that Will had had the good sense to move inside and was seated on one of the benches, close to the fire. She took that as a good sign and prepared a simple meal from the remains of the provisions Erak had placed in the pack for them.

There was a battered kettle on a hanging arm by the fireplace and she rammed it full of snow, swinging the arm in until the kettle was suspended over the flames and the snow began to melt, then the water to boil. She had seen a small box of what looked like tea in the pantry area of the hut. At least they could have a warm drink to drive the last traces of cold and dampness away, she thought.

She smiled at Will as he chewed stolidly at the food she had placed before him. She felt strangely optimistic. Once more, she cast her glance over the interior of the hut. The light had gone outside now and they were lit solely by the uncertain but cheerful yellow glow of the fire. In the light it threw, the hut looked somehow welcoming and reassuring and, as she'd hoped, the heat of the fire and the
smell of the pine smoke had overpowered the dampness and mustiness that had filled the room when she'd first entered.