The Royal Ranger: A New Beginning: 1 (Ranger’s Apprentice: The Royal Ranger)

“I WON’T BE TOO LATE,” WILL SAID AS HE PAUSED AT THE door. “Halt and Pauline aren’t night owls these days.”

Maddie looked up from her meal. Will had felt a little guilty, knowing that he’d be enjoying dinner from Master Chubb’s kitchen at the castle.

Maddie’s cooking skills were improving, but they were still in the rudimentary phase. Accordingly, he’d arranged for a meal to be delivered from Jenny’s restaurant.

She spooned another mouthful of the savory spiced beef stew into her mouth and nodded as she chewed and swallowed.

“I’ll probably be asleep,” she told him. “I’m looking forward to an early night myself.”

They’d had a long day, riding far afield and practicing stalking and tracking, in addition to her normal daily workouts with bow, knives and sling.

She affected a yawn now. Will took his cloak from the peg inside the door and swung it round his shoulders.

“Sable’s here anyway, in case you need her,” he said. “Keep the door bolted from the inside.”

Maddie nodded. There was a concealed release mechanism that could be used to unbolt the door from the outside, but a random visitor, or intruder, wouldn’t know about that. She made a shooing gesture with her hand, seeing that Will seemed uneasy at leaving her by herself.

“Go along,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

He came to a decision. “All right then,” he said and went out.

Maddie heard his soft footsteps along the porch as he walked to the rear

of the cabin, where the horses were stabled. Tug greeted him with a soft whinny. A few minutes later, she heard the little horse’s hoofbeats as Will rode past the cabin and to the path that led to Castle Redmont. Once the hoofbeats faded away and she was certain he had gone, her feigned weariness dropped away and she began moving with greater urgency. Rising, she took the half-finished bowl of stew to the kitchen bench and scraped the contents into the scrap bucket. She was looking forward to the game pies and lamb skewers Lucy had promised and, tasty as the stew might be, she wanted to keep her appetite sharp.

She glanced into the scrap bucket and noticed that the beef stew was a little too visible, sitting on top of the other contents and making it obvious that she’d hardly eaten any of it. Taking the ladle from the pot that held the remainder of the stew, she moved the contents of the bucket around until the stew was mixed in and hidden from casual view.

She stepped back and surveyed her work, then nodded, satisfied. Going into her room, she took the saddle pack that she used to carry her camping gear, rolled it into a cylinder and placed it in her bed, pulling the blankets up around it. She tilted her head as she studied it. It looked too rigid and regular, she decided, so she pulled the blankets back, bent the pack in the middle, then rolled up a spare jacket and placed it at an angle at the bottom of the pack, so that the overall look was of a person with legs bent at the knee. Much more realistic, she decided, and pulled the blankets up again, tucking them high around the pillow to conceal the fact that there was no head resting there. If Will looked in on her when he arrived home, it would be a cursory look only, she thought. The pack and rolled jacket should pass muster.

She blew out the lantern in her room and hurried to the front door. It was second nature to her to swing her cloak around her shoulders as she went out.

The simple latch lock clunked shut behind her. Without thinking, she turned toward the stable, then stopped herself. Will was riding Tug, which meant that he would put his horse back in the stable when he arrived home. If Bumper wasn’t there, it would be a dead giveaway that she had gone out. She turned back. Bumper, who had heard her footsteps stop and turn away, whinnied once, a little reproachfully.

“Sorry, boy,” she said under her breath. “You can’t come tonight.”

Sable was lying, head on her paws, on the edge of the verandah. She rose expectantly. But Maddie waved a hand at her to stay.

“You too, girl,” she told her. “Stay.” Sable lay back down again, covering

the last few inches in a kind of slithering thud as her paws slid on the floorboards, and grunting softly as she did.

Maddie took one last look around. The lantern beside the door was turned low, which was how Will left it every night. That way, it cast just enough illumination over the steps and doorway in case of an unexpected visitor.

Then she turned and hurried down the dark path through the trees, heading for Wensley Village.

She stayed in the shadows on the edge of the high street as she reached the village. Jenny’s restaurant was one of the first buildings on the street. It was brightly lit and she could hear the loud babble of voices from inside. The restaurant was a popular spot in Wensley, and on a Saturday night it was likely to attract patrons from the countryside around the village as well. She kept to the far side of the street as she passed, hugging the cloak around her as she moved through the shadows.

Trust the cloak, Will had told her repeatedly. She wasn’t sure if it was intended to help her in such a devious mission as the one she was on.

So far as she could tell, nobody noticed her. That was hardly surprising.

The restaurant patrons would be intent on their food and their conversation.

And they were in a brightly lit room. It was highly unlikely that any of them might notice the dim figure slipping through the shadows across the street.

As she neared the village inn, the babble of voices from Jenny’s restaurant died away, to be gradually replaced by another sound. There was a traveling minstrel in the inn, entertaining the people who had chosen to go there for the evening. As she listened, the music stopped and there was a burst of applause. Her friends had picked a good night for their party, she thought.

There was plenty of activity in the village to mask any sounds they might make.

Looking at the stable situated beyond the inn, she could make out the dull glimmer of a small fire reflected from the walls. She let herself into the saddling yard. Lucy, Gordon and another friend, Martin, were sitting round a small fire in the rear of the yard, a spot that was hidden from casual observers in the street. If she hadn’t known about the fire, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the dull flicker on the walls.

But she did notice the delicious smell of grilling lamb. As she approached, her friends called a greeting to her.

“You’re late,” Martin said cheerfully.

She shrugged an apology. “I had to wait till Will left. He seemed to take

forever.”

“Well, you’ve got some catching up to do,” Gordon told her. He took two sizzling lamb skewers from the fire, put them on a wooden platter and passed it to Lucy. Lucy added a small game pie to the platter as she handed it along.

Maddie sat cross-legged by the fire and took the plate. The lamb smelled delicious and her mouth was watering already. Carefully, knowing the meat would be hot, she bit into it.

“Mmmmm! That’s delicious, Lucy!” she said appreciatively. Her friend glowed at the compliment.

“They’ve been marinating for nearly eight hours,” she said. “That makes them nice and tender.”

“Here,” Martin said, handing her a wooden mug. “You can wash them down with this.”

Maddie took the mug. Her heart beat a little faster as she sniffed the contents. She could choose to say no now and there would be no harm done.

Sneaking out to meet her friends was a minor thing. But drinking wine was another matter altogether. This was crossing a big boundary, and if she were found out, she had no doubt that she would be in trouble.

Gordon saw her hesitate and guessed the reason. “He’ll never know,” he said, grinning a challenge at her.

Abruptly, she decided, and took a deep swig of the wine. It tasted heavy and somewhat sour.

“Mmm, that’s good stuff!” she said, wanting to appear sophisticated and knowledgeable. In truth, she had no idea whether the wine was good. She had drunk wine before, on special occasions at Castle Araluen, when official toasts were being drunk. But that wine had been heavily watered and tasted nothing like this.

“I only get the good stuff,” Martin agreed cheerfully. He had no idea, either. In fact, the wine was rather poor quality. But, like Maddie, he wanted to appear as if he drank wine all the time and knew what he was talking about. “Here,” he added, “have a top-up.”

He’d decanted some of the wine from a small cask into a jug. He reached across now and slopped more of it into her mug, winking conspiratorially at her.

“Bottoms up,” he said, and for a moment she was confused, wondering what he wanted her to do. Then she realized he was talking about the mug.

She tipped it and drank deeply. The second mouthful was less sour, although

to be honest, she couldn’t have said that she found it particularly enjoyable.

Lucy and Gordon drank deeply from their mugs too. Maddie took another bite of the lamb, then a large bite out of the game pie. The pastry was flaky and delicious, and the spiced, rich filling seemed to explode flavor into her mouth. Maybe wine made food taste better, she thought. Perhaps that was why people put up with the sour taste.

As the evening went on, she noticed that wine seemed to have other properties as well. It seemed to improve one’s ability to converse and to say witty things. She found herself laughing at Gordon’s sallies, and replying in kind.

I’ve never been this amusing before, she thought to herself. She had just made a remark about the Wensley innkeeper, and his fondness for fried food.

It seemed to be a hilarious observation. Her three friends laughed uproariously, and she only just managed to prevent a snot snigger as she joined them.

She peered owlishly across the fire at Gordon. His face seemed to be swimming in and out of focus. Must be the effect of the flames, she thought.

“Any wine left?” she asked Martin. He reached for the jug and overbalanced as he did so, narrowly avoiding falling sideways into the fire.

They all howled with laughter. Maddie put her finger to her lips in a warning gesture.

“Shhhhhhhh!” she said. “Shomebody will hear us.”

She paused, a little confused, then added: “Did I shay shomebody?”

“You shertainly did,” Gordon told her.

“And you shaid ‘shay’ as well,” Lucy added, and they all exploded with laughter again. Maddie rocked back and forth, then lost her balance too. She toppled over sideways and lay on the stable-yard earth. It seemed too much of an effort to sit up again, so she pulled her cloak around her and closed her eyes.

“Nobody can shee me,” she cackled. “Trusht the cloak.”

Which profound witticism set them all off once more.

“What the blistering blazes do you think you’re doing?”

Will’s voice cut across their laughter, cold and angry. She opened her eyes and looked up. He was standing over her, his cloaked, cowled figure outlined against the dark night sky. She heard Lucy’s quick gasp of fear.

Ordinary village folk knew that Rangers were not people to be trifled with.

Gordon’s and Martin’s laughter had died away and they sat staring fearfully

at the dark figure confronting them. The shadow of the cowl hid Will’s face, which made him appear more ominous. They had seen him before, of course, riding through the village or sitting in Jenny’s restaurant. But here and now, in the dark, shrouded by his cloak and with the fury evident in his voice, he was a daunting figure indeed.

“Sit up, Maddie,” he ordered, his voice cold. She scrabbled on the ground for purchase, became tangled in her cloak and finally managed to raise herself on her hands until she was sitting upright—although she swayed perilously.

All four teenagers peered anxiously up at the Ranger. Will held out his hand and snapped his fingers at Gordon.

“Give me that cask,” he demanded. Gordon hurried to comply, nearly dropping the wine cask in his haste. Will stepped forward and took it. He shook it experimentally. The cask was a little less than a quarter full and they could hear the wine sloshing around inside it.

Without warning, Will raised it over his head and hurled it with all his strength at the ground. The cask split into pieces, small planks of wood rebounding upward, the remaining wine fountaining up in a liquid explosion.

The movement was so unexpected, so violent, that again Lucy let out a small bleat of fear. The two boys started in fright as well. Will pointed a finger at the three of them, moving it from one to the other as he spoke.

“Your parents will be hearing of this,” he said.

Lucy rose on her knees, pleading with him, as tears began to stream down her face. “Please, Ranger Will, don’t tell my mam. She’ll beat me something terrible if she knows.”

If her plea was meant to engender any pity in Will’s heart, it failed dismally. He glared briefly at her, then nodded. “Good,” he said. Then he looked down at Maddie once more, sitting, swaying slightly from side to side.

“On your feet, Maddie,” he said. “We’re going home.”

She rose awkwardly. If she had found it difficult to sit up straight, standing was even more so. She swayed, trying desperately to get her balance. But something was stopping her. Something was making the world spin around her. She realized she was kneeling on her cloak, pulled it free and staggered upright. Will jerked a thumb toward the entrance to the saddling yard.

“On your way,” he said. Then he glanced back at the others. “You three get home as well. Right now!”

They obeyed, Lucy still sniffling piteously as she went. Once they had merged into the shadows, Will moved to where Tug was waiting for him. He swung up into the saddle with a creak of leather and pointed up the high street.

“Get going,” he ordered curtly.

Maddie felt tears rising to her eyes, but angrily shook them away. The world reeled as she shook her head, and she staggered slightly. Then she began to make her way up the middle of the street. Several people were leaving Jenny’s restaurant, and they stared at the unusual sight of a girl in a Ranger cloak weaving awkwardly up the high street, followed by the grim figure of a mounted Ranger, occasionally urging her to get a move on.

Maddie’s face flushed with embarrassment. She had begun to enjoy a certain prestige in the village. Now she could feel the world watching her, judging her and finding her wanting. She was really nothing more than a silly little girl.

They passed through the village and entered the narrow path through the trees that led to the cabin. She stumbled once, then again, on the uneven ground. Then she fell, a sharp stone cutting into her knee and tearing her tights. She cried out with the pain, feeling hot blood flowing down her leg.

She tried to rise and failed. Her head spun.

Then her stomach heaved and she was violently, helplessly sick. She knelt on hands and knees, retching until her stomach was empty and there was nothing more to throw up.

Will, on Tug’s back, towered above her, watching her dispassionately as she alternately retched and sobbed.

“Best thing for you,” he said finally. “Now get on your feet again.”

Hating him, hating herself even more, she managed to regain her feet and lurched down the dark path toward the cabin. Sable moved to greet her, tail wagging heavily, as she climbed the two steps to the verandah, holding on to the verandah post for balance.

Will clicked his fingers and uttered a command, and the dog slowly backed away, resuming her place on the verandah boards. Maddie felt a deep sob forming in her throat. Even Sable, ever-understanding, never-criticizing Sable, was ashamed of her.

“Get to bed,” Will told her as he turned Tug toward the stable at the rear of the hut. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”