As of July 15, 2016: 291 Followers, 245 Favourites, 940 reviews.

Four. Damn. Years. And do you want to know what the last two years of writing this story was like? Take a cheese grater – and rub it against your forehead. Sounds fun, yes? But I saw it through to the last word, as I promised I would. And it was worth it.

A special thanks to SavSilvy, Coffee Monsta, Caithlinn13, and whentheresawill for your reviews and the...interesting conversations that often followed ;3 Although I think Coffee Monsta's yelling did me some serious psychological damage... *twitches*

And of course, my gratitude to all of you, for staying with Will to the end.

~70~ Heroes' Return

"Lay him here."

Horace obeyed, gently setting Will down on the loamy earth where Niccolò indicated. He then backed away to give him space, hands clenching anxiously. His arms ached from carrying his friend for miles through the woods, but he did not complain.

Niccolò opened his satchel and pulled out what he needed, and then worked in silence, measuring and cutting and grinding parts of herbs meticulously. Horace patrolled the perimeter of their camp, scanning the trees for movement. Alyss, having supported Gilan the whole way there, eased him down where he would be comfortable and checked on his wounds, most of which still seeped through makeshift bandages. Halt had also been coaxed to lie down by the Courier, to relieve pressure on his ribs. It hurt to breathe and his hand throbbed with every beat of his heart. But with a grim smile he kept telling his son he was alright, and just needed to rest.

"So what happens now?"

Everyone looked over at Horace.

"I mean it's great we freed Will and all, really. But...this is hardly over."

Halt grunted and shifted to a better position, his good hand beneath his head. "You're right there, of course. We need the full weight of a king behind us."

"Crowley knows something is up. Commandant Crowley, that is," said Gilan. He winced as Alyss tightened the bandage wrapped around his upper arm. "When we send word, it won't be a cold start. It wouldn't surprise me if ambassadors are on their way here already."

"The Aetius will face justice, no mistake," said Halt. "Once the Toscan Senate – whatever hasn't been corrupted – finds out, they will stamp the warlord and his army from existence."

Alyss kept glancing at her husband, as though afraid he might disappear. "A delicate matter. In trying to stop a war they may start another, if accusations go awry. It wasn't just an Araluen Ranger who was kidnapped. There was also a Skandian, a Bedullin, and who knows how many others from ally countries."

"Hardly an act of war," said Halt. "The biggest stone that could fly is the treason the Aetius committed in hosting the Munerian Games. This is in the hands of the Senate, now. They will feel the pressure of their allies."

Gilan turned his gaze to Will. For weeks he'd imagined their reunion joyful, with much back-patting and jokes and calls to brew coffee. This...this was...

Halt saw the look on his face, then glanced over at their friend.

"Funny. He looked like this the last time I saw him, over a month ago." How things would have been different, if only he'd stayed to watch over him in the cabin rather than ride off to find a village physician. He scoffed at himself. How different indeed. A funeral most certainly would have been involved.

It wasn't for a few more tense minutes that Niccolò finally grunted in satisfaction.

"Open his mouth."

Alyss glanced at him, then obeyed, moving to her husband's side. She got her fingers between Will's teeth and pried open his jaw. Niccolò used a tiny wooden spoon to scoop up the mashed mess of root and plant and spread it under Will's tongue. The Ranger moaned from the intrusion, writhing. But then he fell still.

"Was that enough?" asked Horace, doubt plain on his face.

"It would have been only a few drops of poison. Otherwise he'd be dead already."

"Rodrigo really must have been afraid of him," said Gilan softly.

"I find that hard to imagine." Niccolò was putting the ingredients neatly back in his satchel. He left out only what he would need to see to Gilan's injuries. "I have been afraid of him since the day I met him. It was around that time when Julius was nearly killed by this very same poison, in a vapour form. I'd secretly read some of Rodrigo's notes, so I knew how to counteract it. Rodrigo gave him the antidote, so Julius never knew I was involved." He fell silent, wondering what had become of his half-brother.

He shook his head and turned his attention to Gilan, unwrapping bandages one by one and setting poultices to cleanse wounds of infection. Gilan muttered and mumbled but allowed the mothering.

"...So what now?" asked Horace.

"We wait."

And wait they did. The sun continued its ascent, and by the time it reached its apex, the company had moved Will where he would be shaded. But still he did not wake. Niccolò assured them the antidote and dosage were correct, that it just needed time, and that Will had been through a lot so he needed the rest.

"Papa?"

Halt opened his eyes, turning his head minutely to see his son. "Mm?"

"Where's Thomas?"

The company glanced at each other. Gilan had been the last to see him, and he had no idea where he slithered off to after trying to bash the Ranger's head in with a club.

"What did he want, anyway?" wondered Gilan.

Alyss plucked at a frond, still sitting near Will. "Revenge."

"Revenge?"

"He said something to me after he and Giovanni captured me. 'You can thank your husband for this.' He knew Will."

Halt shifted. Niccolò had reset the fingers in his hand and now it was heavily bandaged again. He wanted to scratch it. "Whoever he is, he's beyond our grasp. No one is going back inside that mountain. Understand?"

Nods all around. If "Thomas" ever returned to Araluen, he would be a wanted man. Unless he waltzed into the presence of a Ranger, his punishment would have to remain exile.

Ϯ Ϯ Ϯ

In the depths of Mount Gladius, Berkart Falk was lost. He took random passages, seeking any indication that one of them showed the way out. But every way he turned revealed another long passage, lined with reliefs and statues and torch sconces.

Giovanni was dead. Face pummelled almost past recognition. Although there was no love lost between him and Falk, now Falk was out of allies again, and no one seemed to want to talk to him or give him directions. His festering hatred towards Toscans mounted. This wasn't even the worst part of his day. Will Treaty had vanished from existence, along with his whore wife and everyone who had been part of the rescue party. Including Gilan, whom he'd failed to crush with a club. All gone.

I'll find you yet, Treaty, he thought darkly. And I'll make you rue the day your mother spawned you.

He realized he hadn't come across anybody for some time. The silence was unnerving, and he broke into a trot, breath wheezing. His footfalls were heavy and his face was soon beaded with sweat. Then he rounded a corner, and found himself face to face with the wargal.

He blanched, nearly falling on his face as he stopped cold. The beast straightened from chanting in the middle of the hall. Its bearlike muzzle was black with blood, mean little eyes boring into Falk's like it knew what he had done, and condemned him for it.

Falk had grown up in the Mountains of Rain and Night. He knew how to handle the passive creatures. Bringing himself up tall, he deepened his voice and stared a challenge at the beast.

"You will go." He pointed down the passage. "Go now!"

The wargal didn't even turn its head to see where he was pointing. It stood taller, towering over Falk, its shoulders twice the width of the man's gut. Falk could see his own growing fear reflected in the beast's armour. The wargal had gone rogue.

Screams filled the passages for a long time. But if anyone was around to hear, they would not care if they'd known what the victim had done.

Ϯ Ϯ Ϯ

Will made a soft sound. All eyes whipped to him, then looked away morosely as he returned to his comatose state. Alyss gave him water, trickling it into his mouth from a skin. Then she stroked his hair, gently combing out the knots from his bangs. Every once in a while she would utter his name and feel his pulse to see if there was a change. And an hour later, there was.

The shift was so slight, she almost missed it. She only looked because an ant was crawling across his cheek and she went to brush it away. But she saw the movement beneath Will's eyelids. Suddenly his breathing deepened, air smoothly entering and exiting his nose, as though there was nothing wrong and he were merely sleeping.

"Will?"

Again his eyes moved beneath their lids, lashes slowly parting. When the twin hazel pools finally opened, they gazed at her, veiled with incomprehension. They blinked once, twice, and a faint line creased his brow.

"Alyss?"

She forgot about everyone else. Tears overflowed and she leaned over him, head on his chest, grasping fistfuls of his shirt.

Will tried to raise an arm, to touch her golden hair, to ensure she was real. But his arms were full of sand. Then he glimpsed movement in the corner of his eye and turned his head to see someone standing. He blinked at the spots of sun dancing across his face. "Halt?" He saw other blurred figures as well. Horace. Gilan. Niccolò. Even little Crowley, who was being held back by his father. "But how...? Am I dead?"

"No." Alyss sat up, shaking her head, smearing the tears from her cheeks. She looked like she had seen hell, twice, since he'd last laid eyes on her. They all did. "We came to find you, Will. We came to bring you home."

As the full realization sunk in, Will had the strength to grasp her hand. The familiar warmth urged him to grip more firmly, and he did, pulling her closer. "Alyss."

She leaned down to rest her brow against his. He was trembling. He smelled filthy and sweaty and sickly, but underneath he just smelled like family. He smelled like Will.

Nearby, Halt was fighting the emotion that threatened to compromise his stolid guise. Crowley jiggled with excitement beside him, but he seemed to understand that now was not the time for his energetic greetings and stopped trying to race over to Will. Gilan didn't bother holding back his happiness and Horace grinned so wide, his eyes crinkled. At long last, after crossing half of Araluen, braving the Constant Sea, blazing a trail through the Toscan wilderness and infiltrating an impregnable mountain, they had finally done what they came to do. Will was free. He was alive. He was...

"Will?"

The trill of alarm in Alyss' voice was unmistakable. The companions stiffened, dread gripping their bellies as she patted his cheek, then grasped his shoulders, shaking him.

"Will! Wake up!"

The young Ranger's eyes had rolled to the top of his head, and he convulsed, making horrible choking noises. Alyss looked anxiously to Niccolò.

"Do something!"

Niccolò stared at Will, eyes wide with fear but his words even. "It's alright. This is normal."

"This can't be normal!"

Will frothed at the mouth. Air hissed in and out through his nose and his grip on Alyss' hand became painful. The Courier wept harder. "Help him please!"

The Ranger shuddered once more, and then slumped, hand falling limp from hers.

Silence. Halt's feet carried him closer to his former apprentice of their own accord, and there he knelt, ear to Will's chest. He sat up, frowning, uncomprehending. "His heart stopped."

"Give him a moment." Niccolò sounded so certain, so confident, but Horace was not reassured.

"What have you done?" he growled, hands curling. Niccolò edged from him.

"I said, this is normal. Any second he will—"

"What have you done?!"

"Horace, don't!" Gilan sat up too quickly and his face drained. Faint, he didn't notice Halt gently laying him back down. But his outburst had startled Horace, and the knight suddenly realized he had grabbed hold of Niccolò.

"I...I'm sorry." Appalled at himself, he released the physician, who looked whiter than Gilan. "I didn't mean—"

"Non importa," Niccolò squeaked. He cleared his throat. "It's alright...I would never do anything to hurt Will, you know this."

Horace nodded, ears red, eyes downcast. "I know. I know."

"He's breathing."

Everyone's attention whipped back to Alyss. She hadn't once looked up since Will had last gazed at her, not even when the tempers had risen. She brushed her fingers over her lover's face, following every line, gentle over bruises. To take away his pain and suffering was all she wanted.

"Does...does he have a chance?"

Niccolò gazed at the young Ranger, and released a breath. "We have done all that we can for him. The fight is his now, and his alone."

The six companions, having come so far from home, could now only stand by and watch their fallen friend battle the war within himself, and pray that Will Treaty would not be the final victim of the Munerian Games.

Ϯ Ϯ Ϯ

~ Epilogue ~

Halt stood alone on the veranda of his old cabin, leaning on the rail with a cup of brew in his hands. He gazed over the grassy stretches and breathed in the cool evening air.

It had been three years to the day since the escape from Mount Gladius. Three years to the day since Will was poisoned by the Genovesan exile known as Rodrigo Salvini.

"Oh, Will."

Much had happened in the following months. Once the Aetius' army of mercenaries was scattered and the warlord himself arrested, the Toscan Senate tried to silence the treachery, ashamed of its own weak links. But the families who lost loved ones demanded justice, and Will had been like a brother to Horace, who, incidentally, was married to a member of the royal family of Araluen. This the Senate could not overlook, nor conceal. Justice was served, but over the course of many months. Reconciliations were offered, and accepted.

Before all that, Halt and his companions had returned to Araluen. It was without ceremony and without fanfare. They slipped off the Wolfwing at Port Stonewall, where their horses had been left, and rode north. It was a smooth, uninspiring journey.

Halt mused how often that happened. All the trials and troubles seemed to occur en route to the destination, and the way home was usually uneventful. He thought Will would have found that amusing, a let a small smile tug his cheek beneath his silvery beard.

"Will, you foolish boy."

Retirement was looming for the grizzled Ranger. He might have been able to see it if his eyesight hadn't begun to fail. His hand still hurt on occasion, although he never regretted using it to pummel the man who had threatened his son to a lifetime of misery. Naturally, he barked at whoever so much as uttered the word 'old' and never let anyone help him with everyday tasks... Well, except for Crowley, who was now seven and convinced he was halfway to a silver oakleaf already.

The railing of the veranda creaked as he shifted. It was a familiar creak. It creaked whenever he leaned on it, watching his apprentices make the thirty one trips between the water barrel and the stream or beat rugs until he was satisfied not a speck of dust remained in the fibres. Those days were long behind him. He'd raised two good boys, and his only regret was that he had neither the energy nor the time to raise a third – his own. If only there was someone around who could.

Halt released a sigh. "Will..."

"Shush! It's not that bad."

Will stepped out of the cabin, attacking the coffee stain in his cloak with a rag. His face was scrunched in frustration. Halt shook his head.

"You were supposed to have outgrown your clumsiness. What the hell was that?"

"It's just a little stain. Look! It blends right in." Will turned to the sun, hands splayed around the brown blotch. Halt's mouth skewed as he judged.

"...No, I think you need to work at getting more out."

Will sighed. "I'll get Crowley to do that later."

"I don't think so. Get your own servant."

The younger Ranger grinned at Halt, then looked around. "Where is he, anyway?"

On cue, he heard the excited barks of a dog. Seconds later a boy on horseback thundered out of the woods, a black collie racing alongside him. As the horse slid to a stop before the cabin, Ebony ran around and around him, her distinctive, patched fur rippling in the sun.

"Commandeering your horse, it seems," said Halt. Will glowered over at him accusingly.

"You gave him Tug's passphrase?"

"Well I could hardly give him mine! There's a special bond between horse and Ranger, you know."

"He's your son!"

"And your godson."

"But—"

"Uncle Will! Tug beat his own record!" Crowley trotted the little grey horse over to the cabin, flushed and sweaty but grinning ear to ear. Will scowled, remarkably similar to Halt's signature expression.

"I didn't know you had started keeping track. How long have you been riding him?"

"Mm...three months? But don't worry. I only ever give him one apple a day, like Papa says."

Will's accusing stare now turned to his horse. "Funny. I always give him his daily apple, and he's never mentioned you giving him one too."

Tug snorted and nodded his head in that horsey way, quite pleased with himself.

My scheme was brilliant while it lasted.

"Where's Maddie?" asked Halt. Crowley waved a careless hand over his shoulder.

"Her royal hiny-ness is back there somewhere. She'll catch up."

Halt frowned. "You're supposed to be watching her."

"She's fine! Besides, she says she's gonna be a Ranger too." Crowley rolled his eyes. "But she's a girl and girls can't be Rangers, right, Uncle Will?"

Will blinked. "Why? I've never heard anyone say that before."

Before the youth could reply, a little black pony came trotting out of the trees, a girl bouncing around on its back. She didn't look happy.

"I felled! Look!" She held up her arm, which had been grazed.

"Don't worry, Niccolò will patch you up," said Will. "We'll take you to see him, alright?"

Princess Madelyn nodded, although she continued to pout.

"I think Crowley should take her up to see the good physician now," Halt hinted, looking over the rim of his cup at his son. Now it was Crowley's turn to pout.

"But...but—"

"Butts are what you sit on! Now go. A royal damsel requires your assistance, Ranger."

Crowley did perk up a little at the word Ranger. "I will protect this royal damsel with my life, sir, never fear."

Will smiled as the youth turned Tug around and led Horace's daughter towards Castle Redmont.

"You've never told him of his own royal lineage, have you?"

Halt grunted. "Like he needs to know yet. You'd better hold your tongue for this one a while longer."

Will clicked his tongue, facing away. "I don't know, Halt. You gave him Tug's passphrase. I might accidentally let it slip—"

"I know where you sleep."

That, to Halt's satisfaction, silenced the young man immediately.

Ebony trotted once around the cabin, sniffing, before lying in a patch of shade. Her tail wagged lazily on occasion. Will watched her, absently scratching his right forearm. Halt frowned.

"Does it still bother you?"

Will glanced at him, brow furrowed in question. Then his face cleared and he rolled up his sleeve, exposing the puckered burn scar shaped like the eagle crest of the Munerian Games. "No, not for some time. But I feel it whenever I draw my bow or exercise. Makes things...difficult to forget."

"Do you still wonder what happened to that man...Berkart Falk?"

Will shrugged one shoulder, rolling the sleeve back down. "I don't care. Not anymore. Both Oslave and Gilan had offered to hunt him down for me, but I didn't want them wasting their lives on that scab. For all I know, Falk could be dead already."

Halt nodded, and both Rangers fell silent, enjoying the idyllic view of the sun setting on Castle Redmont's distant battlements. Halt finished his coffee and set his mug on the railing.

"That was a good pot," he said.

Will nodded. "Jafar keeps sending up beans from his country. His way of showing his gratitude, I suppose."

"Considering how many Serysons and Bedullins we saved, we should be drowning in beans, then."

"Hey, count yourself lucky you're getting any of my stash!"

"Your stash? This is my cabin!"

"Was your cabin. And it's my coffee pot."

"But my cups."

"The parcel has my name on it."

"I'm the one who actually helped him."

"No, you aren't! Oslave did most of the work. All you did was destroy Jafar's entire supply of fireworks."

"To save your sorry arse!"

"Alright, alright!" Will raised his hands in surrender. Halt smirked, but then turned his head at the sound of hoof beats.

"She's here."

Will followed his gaze, and a smile brightened his face at the sight of Alyss trotting into sight on a dapple-grey horse. With Horace, Jenny, and George already at the castle, the reunion of the five wardmates could commence.

"I will see you later," he said, stepping off the veranda.

"Where are you rushing off to?" asked Halt.

"Commandant Crowley has asked for a stat report for Redmont, but I haven't spent longer than five minutes with my wife in a week and I hear Jenny's made something special for tonight. Cover for me, will you?" Will clambered up behind Alyss in the saddle, kissing her cheek.

"You're dumping your paperwork on your old mentor again?" she said, frowning over her shoulder.

"He's done so much, he's good at it. Right, Greybeard?"

Halt scowled. "You might come back to find your bean stash a little lighter than how you left it, boy."

Will smiled despite the fire. "I won't. I had a little expert hide it for me. And as you know, if Crowley doesn't want something found, it won't be."

Alyss huffed at her husband, gently jabbing him with her elbow. "Don't be mean. It's in the purple urn in the top rightmost cupboard, Halt," she said. Will sputtered.

"Hey!"

"Thank you, Alyss," said Halt, with grave gratitude. "I'm glad Araluen still has some decent young people."

"Because it certainly has enough crabby old curmudgeons." Will reached around Alyss and grabbed the reins, flicking them and nudging the grey's sides to urge it away from Halt. The horse skittered off as though it too feared the Ranger's wrath. But Halt only stared after his former apprentice and his wife, who had been children just a few days ago, blushing in each others' presences. He only hoped for the best in their future, that it be filled with happiness and comfort and forever bound with love.

Halt picked up his cup and tipped it over, letting the dregs fall into the grass. He turned and stepped into the cabin, before casting one last look at the distant couple. Then he smiled to himself and closed the door.

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