Chapter Text
Blood flew from Halt’s split lip and splattered on the ground as the fist connected with his jaw. Immediately following the first, a second fist came, hitting him from the other side. This had been going on for some time now. Halt was bruised and bleeding, and it wasn’t just his face. Their captors had ripped his shirt sleeves exposing the flesh of his arms to their knife points. All of this, while tied standing to a tree.
Will was tied to a similar tree nearby. He hadn’t been touched, but he certainly wasn’t unharmed. He had had to endure watching these… these… monsters beat Halt until he was almost unconscious. Will was surprised that hadn’t happened yet. He wanted so badly to scream out for his mentor and friend, to beg the torture to stop. But he couldn’t. He kept silent, determined not to say anything. He knew it’s what Halt wanted from him, the look he had given the young ranger before the first fist hit was all he needed.
Halt spat blood onto his attackers boots, glaring up at him with defiance. He was rewarded with another punch to the stomach.
They had been ambushed two days ago by this filthy group of inhumane thugs. For once, there were too many of them for Halt and Will to hold off on their own, and they had been knocked to the ground before being tied and taken to the thugs campsite. Thankfully, Abelard and Tug had gotten away unharmed. They were somewhere out there now, hopefully running for help.
The group wanted information from the two rangers, and they were determined to get it. They didn’t even know what they wanted to know, just that the Ranger Corps had secrets, and they had to get their grubby, clumsy hands all over them. And, not knowing any other interrogation methods, that had resorted to torture.
They were relying on Will to spill their secrets, his loyalty to the corps weakened by his loyalty to Halt and wanting to see him safe. Majority of the group had been sent out to find food and victims to rob, but the few people who remained watched the scene play out like entertainment. A couple of them were playing around with Halt and Will’s bows that had been tossed to the side, but everyone else was listening intently. So far, nothing had been said, and the group were becoming impatient.
“Hit him harder!” The leader yelled at the big man in front of Halt. “The boy won’t talk if you hit him like a girl! Hit him like he’s never been hit before!”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” the man muttered to himself, but he obeyed. With surprising speed for a man of his size and bulk, he drew his arm back before slamming it back into the ranger’s face. Even more blood poured from Halt’s nose, streaming down his face into his mouth and down his torn shirt. Once again, he spat it right into the man’s face.
Enraged by this, the man drew his fist back again, for the millionth time that morning, when his leader's voice stopped him again.
“Don’t just keep punching him over and over again, you oaf! Obviously it’s not doing anything!” A dagger was sheathed at his hip and he pulled it out now, approaching the beaten ranger. “Move!” He shoved the big man roughly to the side, and came uncomfortably close to Halt. He smiled at him in a sick way, playing with the dagger in his fingers.
Will watched on, horrified at what was about to unfold. How far were they willing to go?
The leader sliced the dagger through the remains of Halt’s shirt, pulling off the fabric and leaving the ranger shirtless, only his oakleaf hanging from his neck. Slowly, he touched the knife tip against right in the middle of Halt’s chest. He didn’t press hard, but the cold tip against his skin was enough. Ignoring Halt’s murderous glare, and unbothered by the blood dripping from Halt’s face onto his hand, he twirled the knife around, pressing harder and harder until it began to properly tear into skin.
He was playing with them, Will realised. He was having fun with this. That’s why he hadn’t resorted to just killing Halt yet.
Without warning, the leader sliced down, tearing a long cut from Halt’s chest to his stomach. Unable to stop himself, Halt screamed in pain as new blood came to the surface. Will instinctively screamed out as well. He felt tears well up in his eyes, terrified of what harm that could have caused. But looking closer at the cut, he could see it wasn’t deep. He heaved a silent sigh of relief. It was just a surface wound.
“That was nice,” their captor spoke softly. He turned to Will. “How did you like that? I enjoyed it, but I don’t think you did. Remember, you can stop this at any time. Either of you can. You just have to tell us what we want to know, and all of this can be over.”
“Never,” Halt growled at him, his Hibernian accent thick with defiant rage.
The evil man shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He grabbed Halt by the hair, and Will winced on instinct. He knew how much the older ranger hated when people touched his hair, and it usually ended very badly for anyone that did. The man was lucky Halt was tied up and completely at his mercy.
“Get off of me!” Halt yelled for the first time, trying to get out of his grip. He bared his red stained teeth at the man, his eyes full with fury.
“Oh, shut up,” the man drawled and pulled Halt’s head back hard, knocking it against the tree trunk. He raised the dagger up to Halt’s forehead, and sliced right across. Halt became blinded with blood as it poured into his eyes.
The man laughed.
Will tried desperately to get out of his ropes, to get to Halt and to stick a knife right into that sick man’s chest. One of the group members keeping watch on him picked his club and knocked it hard against Will’s shoulder, causing him to cry out.
“Don’t fucking touch him!” Halt screamed, and managed to kick the leader hard in his shin. He didn’t care however, just grinned at him with a curious gleam in his eye. It wasn’t a nice look.
“Oh, how interesting,” he said. “Perhaps we’ve been doing this all wrong. Maybe it should be him convincing you to talk. You probably know more anyway so it only makes sense.”
“If you hurt him,” Halt said in a low and extremely dangerous voice, “I swear to whatever god is out there that I will kill you.”
“Good thing there is no god then,” the man replied cheerfully, and walked over to Will.
“No! Maróidh mé thú! Get away from him! Will! Imigh ó mo mhac!” Halt struggled hard in his restraints, ignoring the immense pain every movement caused him. Part of the rope rose higher up his torso and rubbed against the fresh gash. Sweat and blood streaked down his face, although a lot of it had dried and crusted by now. His expression was one of wild fury, the only sign of any other feeling being the tears cutting through the blood.
“Wow, so dramatic,” the man tutted. He was right at Will’s side, holding the young man’s jaw in his hands. Will looked at him with the same defiance Halt had earlier. Only his mentor could see the real fear behind it. The leader placed the dagger at Will’s cheek, and without savouring the moment like he had done with Halt, messily sliced down, skin ripping apart and weeping at the sharp point.
Will closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain. I can handle this, he told himself. I’m fine. I’ve had worse. Halt had it worse. This is fine.
Halt was yelling a string of Hibernian curses so vile you didn’t need to understand the language to get the full impact. The man glanced back at him. He held the dagger casually, but so that Halt could see it.
“If you want me to stop, you know what to do,” he reminded the ranger, then turned back to Will.
“Fine! I’ll tell you! Just get away from him!”
Will looked at Halt in surprise. He tried to shake his head ‘no’ at him, but the man was still holding him firmly.
“Oh, will you now?” The man asked.
Halt nodded, hiding a wince at the pain it caused. “Yes. But get away with him first. Get away from him and come over here.” The man hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. Halt couldn’t do anything tied up as he was anyway. He obeyed.
“What do you want to know?” Halt asked when he got closer.
“Everything.”
“Alright. Do you believe the rumours about rangers and sorcery?"
The man scoffed. “I’ve heard them before. Everyone has.” He said it with scorn, as if he believed such rumours were silly nonsense. But Halt noticed he hadn’t actually answered the question. He didn’t say no. And that was enough.
“Well, it’s true.” The man’s eyes widened slightly, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise impassive face. “Our main source of magic is in our oakleaves. That’s why we wear them at all times.”
The man raised an eyebrow at him, but his eyes slid down to study Halt’s oakleaf. He stepped closer, within arms reach of Halt, and raised his hand towards the necklace. A flicker of doubt flashed in his mind as something began to feel off to him, but he didn’t have any time to dwell on it. Halt’s boot kicked out, hitting him hard between his legs. The man doubled over in pain, giving Halt the opportunity to kick hard in the head, knocking him backwards. The dagger dropped from his hands as he fell.
During Halt’s struggles to get to Will, he had managed to loosen the ropes somewhat. Now, he could slip one arm out. He dug his foot under the knife blade and kicked it upwards, catching it in his free hand. He wasted no time in cutting out of the rest of his binds, the ropes falling uselessly to the ground.
He ran to Will next. A couple of men had managed to scramble to their weapons and approached, but he swiftly dodged and parried each attack with the dagger, before making them fall to the ground behind him. He reached Will in record time, cutting through his ropes like nothing. The two of them ran to the other side of the camp, Will dodging each attack the clumsy group tried to throw at him, Halt blocking and striking at them in return.
A couple metres from their bows, the same man who had knocked Will’s shoulder earlier ran up to his side, getting ready to swing the massive club at his head and knock him out. Will narrowly missed it, ducking and rolling across the ground. His bruised shoulder ached from the manoeuvre, but he came in front of his weapons. Their arrows were still in their quivers next to the bows. In one quick movement, Will grabbed one, nocked it, drew back, and shot the arrow right at the club man.
Bows weren’t designed to shoot at such short distances, resulting in a lot more force than needed into the target. The arrow pierced the man’s throat, but didn’t stop there. It continued to tear right through, ripping his vocal chords and throat apart with its broad heavy tip. The arrow came out the otherside, the grey shaft painted red, and landed a few metres from the man’s now collapsed corpse. Part of the fletching had torn off and the feather was now stuck to the inside of the man’s throat, flapping in the slight wind, but Will didn’t have time to dwell on what he had just done. He flicked his quiver over his shoulders, and in almost the same movement picked up Halt’s bow and tossed it to the man, followed by his arrows.
The group of thugs hesitated now. They were well aware of the rangers' skills with the bow. A few of them had just witnessed it first hand with Will’s shot. None of them wanted to meet the same gruesome fate. There was a deafening silence as they contemplated their next move.
“What are you doing?” Their leader screamed at them from his position on the ground. “There’s only two of them, get them! They’re outnum-”
He never got to finish his sentence. A heavy black shafted arrow became embedded right in his heart, hitting exactly where it was aimed.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Halt said ominously. Already, he had another arrow nocked. The sunlight gleamed off the arrowhead, laughing maliciously at the group before them. “All of you, drop your weapons and get on the ground. Now.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, but that did nothing to erase the threat in it.
Slowly, one by one, weapons began to drop to the ground. Each person placed their hands behind their heads and lay down flat to the ground.
“None of you move, or we’ll shoot,” Halt said, then turned to Will. “You collect their weapons, I’ll tie them up.” Will nodded and got to work.
Halt used the same ropes that were previously confining him in Will on the group, tying them all back to back. While he was at it, he also removed their stinking boots and socks, and their jackets. Will had placed all their weapons in a pile far away from them.
“What now?” he asked Halt once they were done.
“Now, we leave. There’s a decent sized village near here, they should have people to deal with this lot. They can take them to the castle to be tried.”
“Will they get hanged?”
Halt gave him a look devoid of emotion. “Probably,” he said. “Would you care if they did?”
Will considered it for a few seconds, although it was more for show. He already knew his answer. “Not really,” he said.
“Then let's go.” And with that, they turned away from the group of previous thugs, Halt limping from the pain and Will supporting him, leaving the men trembling and terrified.