"But he… he…" the boy began sadly. The Ranger stopped him, continuing in that same kind, soft, compelling voice. "Because without taking any of the vows or the special training that knights have, he lived up to the highest ideals of knighthood and chivalry and valor. It was actually a few days after the battle at Hackham Heath, while Morgarath and his Wargals were fighting their way back to Three Step Pass. A sudden counterattack took us by surprise and your father saw a comrade surrounded by a troop of Wargals. The man was on the ground and was within a second of being cut to pieces when your father took a hand." The light in the boy's eyes had begin to shine again. "He did?" Will asked, his lips just framing the words, and Halt nodded. "He did. He left the safety of the battle line and leaped forward, armed only with a spear. He stood over his injured comrade and protected him from the Wargals. He killed one with the spear, then another smashed the head of the spear, leaving Daniel with only a spear shaft. So he used it like a quarterstaff and knocked down two others – left, right! Just like that!"

He flicked his hand to left and right to demonstrate. Will's eyes were intent on him now, seeing the battle as the Ranger described it. "He was wounded then, as the spear shaft broke under another attack. It would have been enough to kill most men. But he simply took the sword from one of the Wargals he'd killed and struck down three more, all the time bleeding from a massive wound in his side."

"Three of them?" Will asked. "Three. He had the speed of a leopard. And remember, as a spearman, he had never really trained with the sword." He paused, remembering that day so long ago. "You know, of course, that there is almost nothing that Wargals fear? They're called the Unminded Ones, and once they begin a battle, they almost always finish it. Almost always. This was one of the few times I saw Wargals afraid. As your father struck out to either side, still standing over his wounded comrade, they began to back away. Slowly at first. Then they ran. They simply turned and ran. I have never seen any other man, no knight, no mighty warrior, who could send Wargals running in fear. Your father did. He may have been a sergeant, Will, but he was the mightiest warrior I ever had the privilege to watch. Then, as the Wargals retreated, he sank down on one knee beside the man he'd been protecting, still trying to shield him, even though he knew he was dying himself." He had taken half a dozen wounds. But it was probably the first that killed him." 'And was his friend saved?" Will asked in a small voice. Halt looked a little puzzled. " His friend?" he asked." The man he protected," Will explained. " Did he survive?"

Somehow, he thought it would have been a tragedy if his father's valiant attempt had been unsuccessful.

"They weren't friends," said Halt. " Up until that moment, he had never laid eyes on the other man." He paused, then added, " Nor I on him. " The significance of those last four words sank deep into Will's consciousness.

"You?" he whispered. " You were the man he saved?" Halt nodded. " As I said, I only knew him for a few minutes. But he did more for me than any other man, before or since. As he was dying, he told me of his wife, and how she was back at their farm alone, with a baby due any day. He begged me to see that she was looked after. " Will looked at the grim, bearded face he had grown to know so well. There was a deep sadness in Halt's eyes as he remembered that day.

"I was too late to save your mother. It was a difficult birth and she died shortly after you were born. But I brought you back here and Baron Arald agreed that you should be brought up in the Ward-until you were old enough to become my apprentice."

"But all those years, you never…" Will stopped, lost for words. Halt smiled grimly at him.

"I never let on that I had placed you in the Ward? No. Think about it, Will. People are… strange about Rangers. How would they have reacted to you as you grew up? Wondering what sort of strange creature you were? We decided it would be better if nobody knew of my interest in you."

Will nodded. Halt was right, of course. Life as a ward had been difficult enough. It would have been far more so if people had known he was somehow connected to Halt.

"So you took me as your apprentice because of my father?" said Will. But this time Halt shook his head.

"No. I made sure you were looked after because of your father. I chose you because you showed you had the abilities and the skills that were needed. And you also seem to have inherited some of your father's courage. " There was a long, long silence between them as Will absorbed the story of his father's amazing battle. Somehow, the truth was more stirring, more inspiring than any fantasy he could have made up over the years to sustain himself. Eventually, Halt stood up to go and he smiled gratefully up at the grizzled figure, now silhouetted against the sky as the last light of day died. "I think my father would be glad I chose the way I did," he said, slipping the bronze oak leaf on its chain over his head. Halt merely nodded once, then turned away and went inside the cottage, leaving his apprentice to his own thoughts.

Will sat quietly for some minutes. Almost unthinkingly, his hand went to touch the bronze oakleaf symbol hanging at his throat. Faintly, the evening breeze carried the sounds of the Battleschool drill yard to him, and the nonstop hammering and clanking from the armory that had been going on, night and day, for the past week. They were the sounds of Castle Redmont preparing for the coming war.

Yet strangely, for the first time in his life, he felt at peace.