Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Aftermath ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Aftermath

Chapter Two: A Companion's Request

 

Tennyson Manor is no less opulent than it was before, the six months Rai had spent away from Weirth enough time for it to flourish. Despite the autumn season, the trees and flowers are flourishing again. All traces of the ruhin invasion have vanished from the grounds, a direct contrast to the rest of Weirth, where abandoned homes and destroyed buildings can still be seen. The drought which has afflicted the rest of the town seems to have no impact on Tennyson's property either.

 

A feeling all too much like apprehension invades Rai as he looks upon the estate, riding up to the front gate as though he belongs there. Subtle questioning around those that have managed to return to the city have directed him here, proving that Haiden still resides within Weirth. And not only that, he hasn't managed to leave Tennyson Manor. A disturbing thought indeed.

 

Stepping out of the guardhouse before the main gate, a soldier gives him a rather dirty look. “Halt,” he practically barks at Rai. “State your purpose.”

 

Rather friendly, aren't they?

 

Dismounting properly, Rai loops Flynt's reins around his left hand and pulls back his hood, revealing his face to the guard. “Just a visitor, nothing more,” he replies, as pleasantly as he can muster. Which is just this side of downright annoyed, to be honest.

 

The soldier's eyes widen in recognition and Rai desperately hopes he doesn't do something stupid like bow to him. “S-Sir S'raiya! I didn't realize it was you.”

 

He waves a hand of dismissal. “Rai,” he corrects, and glances furtively around, making sure no one has seen this man's display. He doesn't want anyone to think he is important. “Is the master of the house in?”

 

“Of course,” the guard replies, barely able to keep from stuttering. The glint of hero-worship in his eyes is unsettling and Rai shifts uncomfortably. “I'm sure Sir Haiden and Lady Rynneth will be pleased to see that you have finally visited.”

 

'Undoubtedly,' Rai thinks to himself, his tone dry. He tips his head in recognition. “I'm sure they will,” he says and takes a rather impatient step forward. “You are going to open the gate?”

 

The man nearly trips over himself when he realizes his mistake and ducks back into the small alcove he had emerged from. Seconds later, a short dong echoes through the front, likely announcing the gate to be open.

 

“Visitors!” he calls, as though his other announcement weren't enough. “Tis Sir S'raiya!”

 

Again, Rai winces. He hasn't wanted his presence to be that publicly known but he supposes there is nothing to be done for it now. He wonders if Lord Tennyson managed to keep the truth of his participation to only his own staff, or if he disobeyed Rai's wishes and told the entire city. Only his visit will tell.

 

Muttering a particularly vile invective under his breath, Rai grips Flynt's reins and steps forward, entering the manor grounds. From here, it is a good hike to the main manor, but rather than mount Flynt once more, he chooses to walk. Behind him, the portcullis drops again, cutting off the guard's farewell. Not that he notices.

 

Around him, the estate is bustling with activity. He can see strangers darting here and there, some conferring in small groups before abruptly splitting and heading to different directions. There is the distinct sense of urgency and excitement in the air, far different from the trudging pace of uncertainty outside the gates.

 

The moment he is in sight of the manor, servants pour out to attend to him. He would not be surprised if the guard at the gate has sent a runner to the manse to warn them. One young lad leads Flynt away, giving him scant time to grab his smallest satchel while assuring him the rest will be taken to his room. Another young boy takes his sword - Haiden's former boneblade -- promising to sharpen it before placing it in his quarters for him. And yet, a third child is there to take him inside the house where he will be allowed to freshen up before meeting up with Rynneth and Haiden. It is almost enough to make his head spin.

 

“I'm fine,” he assures the tousle-headed child, who is giving him the same sparkly, and worshipful eyes as the guard at the gate. “Just take me straight to them.”

 

“Yes, sir,” the boy replies, and practically dances in place as he urges Rai to follow him. He can't help but wonder just what stories Lord Tennyson has been spreading.

 

They move quickly through the manor, Rai easily noting where rebuilding had been swift. The manse has nearly been completely reconstructed, not that he is surprised. Tennyson needs to project a sense of poise, after all. Many of the servants recognize him and offer pleasant smiles, and words of thanks, paying no heed to his somewhat dirty attire.

 

It is not long before he is standing in front of a set of doors in the east wing, the boy pushing one open ahead of him. He steps aside, and finds both Haiden and Ryn waiting on him, the former standing near the window and the latter--

 

“S'raiya!”

 

-- the latter is throwing herself across the empty space and enclosing him in a warm hug he is not prepared to accept. Rai stiffens in her hold, wishing that Rynneth had been a little less demonstrative in her relief.

 

“It is so good to see you,” the woman continues to adjust before drawing back, her hands on his upper arms as though she were some parent looking over her prodigal child. “We haven't heard from you in months! Haiden was so worried!”

 

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I'm sure,” Rai replies, and his gaze shifts past Rynneth, catching sight of a vaguely amused Haiden. The other man is crossing the floor, one eyebrow lifted in surprise at his - girlfriend's? lover's? fiancée's?-- display of obvious affection.

 

“I didn't think you would ever set foot here again,” Haiden states guardedly, one hand dangling at his side as the other lies nonthreatening on the pommel of his sword.

 

Rai recognizes it as having belonged to Suerte once, and on closer examination, he realizes that Haiden is wearing the uniform of the palace guard. Dark trousers are tucked into thick, black boots and belted at the hips. A long-sleeved tunic is tucked into his hem, and a dark cloak clasped at the right shoulder tops off the ensemble. He blinks, never thinking for even a minute that Haiden would've joined something as constricted as the guard.

 

“I hadn't planned to,” Rai admits, still distracted by the sight of his friend in that uniform, and wearing it so casually. “But hearing of your pending nuptials made me realize that I was missing out on... something.”

 

Beside him, Rynneth breaks into a wide grin and looks as if she might try and hug him again. He carefully sidesteps her and watches as she clasps her hands together instead. Rynneth happens to be clothed in a swath of fabrics, all of which probably would have fed any one of the family's in Lathe for a good month or two. The brightness of her clothing makes his eyes ache.

 

“It's great news, isn't it?” she questions, tossing a smile at Haiden that practically makes Rai's stomach churn. “Father is making it such a grand affair, too. He wants this country to have something to celebrate.”

 

It takes great effort for Rai to bite back on his sarcastic retort. His eyes flicker to Haiden, and he notices that while his friend is grinning, he appears to be shifting uneasily. For the first time, he finds a hint of something not-quite-right in the room. And he wonders if Rynneth has even noticed the knot of tension that's rippling its way into the conversation.

 

In that moment, while Rai struggles to search for an appropriate response that isn't overwhelmingly condescending, a knock announces itself on the door. Rynneth cheerfully invites the visitor inside and a servant tentatively sticks her head inside, looking apologetic and perhaps a bit nervous. Yeah, Rai would hate to be the one to bring bad news to someone like Rynneth as well.

 

“I apologize, milady, but there are a few matters that need your attention,” she explains, stepping inside and folding her hands over her stomach as she bows. “The Lord Tennyson requests that you handle a few matters while he makes another visit to the castle proper.”

 

Rynneth pouts, a look that would have almost stirred Rai's interest if he weren't so put off by the rest of her personality, and waves a dismissing hand. “Very well. I'll be there in a moment.”

 

The servant bows again and steps out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. Rynneth huffs and turns towards Rai, an apology in her eyes. “I really want to chat more so don't just vanish, okay?”

 

“I wouldn't miss it,” he lies smoothly, and tries not to smirk when she doesn't even catch a hint of the sarcasm that must have laced his words.

 

She merely smiles brightly at him, pecks Haiden on the cheek, and then leaves the room in a swirl of fine clothing, thick perfume, and bubbling happiness. Completely oblivious to the pain and suffering the kingdom had endured six months ago, and is still suffering. Rai wonders if she is even affected by what they had done, if she finds her nights difficult to bear or if she can sleep easily because she lives in a rose-tinted world where she deludes herself into thinking that it didn't happen.

 

Her absence clears something from the air, and Rai is free to turn his attention to his friend, perhaps the closest one he has. “Marriage?” he asks, lifting one brow in Haiden's direction.

 

The other man shakes his head and rakes fingers through his black hair, disarraying strands that look to have been oiled down for sleekness. “It was what she wanted,” he explains, though it sounds more like an excuse than anything.

 

“Seems a little fast,” he begins doubtfully, still not buying the whole relationship. That same unnameable something from before twists in his gut again, having grown larger when witnessing their display of affection. “I didn't even know you had a thing for her.”

 

Haiden shrugs, and looks away, his gaze trapped by the window where he parts the curtains and peers out into the bright afternoon again. The action gives full view to the dark ink that snakes up the side of his neck, vanishing into his hairline. “She helped me out a lot, helped us all. Her and Lord Tennyson both. Things happen when you're stuck in one another's company.”

 

“Is she pregnant?”

 

Honestly, the question slips out of his mouth before he can stop it because Rai knows Haiden better than anyone else, even if there is years between them. He knows that if Haiden had inadvertently made the little noble girl with child, then he would marry her out of duty and responsibility. And perhaps the abrupt query is a bit rude, but he feels like he's grasping at hay here.

 

Haiden rolls his eyes and gives him a look, one that plainly speaks volumes. “No, she isn't.”

 

Working his jaw, Rai searches for something else to say when his eyes fixate on Haiden's clothing, something else that has yet to be explained. “And what's with the uniform?” he asks, gesturing towards said clothing as S'raiya steps further into the room, finding a relatively comfortable chair to collapse into.

 

A slight puff of dust accompanies the motion and he raises a brow. Well, well, the Tennyson Manor only looks perfectly undisturbed. Beneath the fancy fabric it is still very much the victim of the ruhin king's madness. For some reason, that realization makes Rai feel just a bit better about everything.

 

Again, Haiden shifts uncomfortably. “Lord Tennyson's offered me a position as captain of the guard.”

 

“The castle guard,” Rai repeats skeptically. “The guard that is still pretty much nonexistent since that damn ruhin did a good job of wiping them all out?”

 

Haiden's fingers curl around the hilt of Suerte's sword, but he squares his jaw with determination. “Yes, that guard. I haven't decided if I'll accept or not.”

 

Releasing a big sigh, Rai flops back against his chair and rubs fingers across his forehead, unable to stop the twisting churn that keeps building in his belly. “Is that what all this is?” he mutters, waving around him towards the manor, and the uniform, and the direction Ryn has gone. “We nearly died so now all you can think about it is settling down?”

 

In response, Haiden steps towards him and pulls a folded piece of parchment from where it has been tucked into the folds of his shirt. This he drops into S'raiya's lap with little ceremony, forcing Rai to pick it up and start opening it out of pure curiosity alone. It is Haiden's way of saying the questions about his life are over. And Rai knows, it is also Haiden showing that he can't really explain himself and doesn't want Rai digging into it because they are all just excuses.

 

“What's this?” Rai asks, succeeding in unfolding the paper and glancing quickly over the letter. The writing is difficult to read since it is fancifully looped in some places, and scribbled in others, but he gets the basic gist of it.

 

Haiden sighs and drops down into a chair across from him. “Fate really has it out for us,” he begins, clasping his hands in front of him. “I received that earlier today, not but a few hours before you showed up.”

 

“Yeah, well, I'm through with Fate and whatever she wants to toss at me,” Rai mutters, dropping the papers to the floor. “We got a shitty deal out of the last gift and this--” he prods at the letter with the toe of his boot “--is more of the same.”

 

“She needs our help, Rai.”

 

'She' refers to Loka, one of their original eight who fought in the battle with them. And the help she needs is as vague as a letter can get. Something is wrong, she doesn't know what. She doesn't have much time. She's losing her mind. She can only trust Haiden. Et cetera. Rai doesn't understand a damn thing of what she's asking for in the letter. In some parts, she doesn't even complete her sentences, as though she's slowly but surely losing her mind.

 

S'raiya twists his jaw, trying to hold his ground. But Haiden is giving him that look, the same he couldn't say no to before they traipsed across the kingdom to rescue it from a crazed ruhin.

 

“The battle is over. We've no duty to help her,” he argues, and wonders when Haiden decided he is included in the mess. “For Solan's sake, we're not even friends, Haiden. Fate threw us together, that's all.”

 

He can tell, by the look in Haiden's eyes, however, that he is quite determined. “For someone as proud as her to actually ask for help means that something is really wrong,” he states, and the pad of his thumb brushes across the marred emblem on the pommel of his sword.

 

The symbol beneath had been scraped over by a sharp instrument -- Suerte's doing. And Haiden hasn't bothered to have it repaired. To honor Suerte perhaps? Rai isn't sure.

 

S'raiya sighs and feels himself sinking deeper into his chair. “The guild is halfway across Umbra. It would take weeks--”

 

“She's not at the guild,” Haiden interrupts quietly, stormy eyes darkening with thought. “In fact, she never went back. At least, according to her letters.”

 

He narrows his eyes in suspicion, distinctly recalling that Loka had claimed she had to return to the guild to handle pressing business. What it had been she had not exposited upon, or why it was able to wait three months but not another few days for her to handle, she hadn't explained either. In fact, Loka had been among the first to leave, riding out of the Tennyson manor within days of taking down the ruhin king, despite her fatigue in working the complex magic required to close the gate between the worlds.

 

Something is definitely wrong with Loka, and S'raiya really has no intention of riding to her rescue. He is through with being the hero. Once was enough, and he hadn't even wanted to do so then.

 

“I don't like this,” he states simply, the atmosphere in the room growing heavy with uncertainty. “It's not sitting right with me. And I really don't know why you're practically leaping at the chance to rescue her. That's more like Su--” He pauses and retracts himself, wondering why it feels taboo to say the kid's name. “Heroism isn't really either of our style.”

 

He watches, and hates himself for noticing, Haiden flinch at the near mention of Suerte, the kid all of them mourned. It isn't that they all expected to survive their fight against the ruhin king, but they never would have anticipated that only one of them would fall. Or that it would be Suerte, the only one who ever truly gave a damn. It had been Suerte who had asked them to fight, and Suerte who had urged them forwards, even while hiding the shame of his cowardice.

 

Not that the rest of them have emerged entirely unscathed. Trahern will be forever blind in one eye and S'raiya carries more scars then he knows what to do with. Gaelin has seen more than a child his age should ever witness and Rai can only assume what effect the battles had on Rynneth.

 

As for Haiden... he never says it, but Rai is certain that Haiden is bothered by Suerte's death, probably more than the rest of them. He can see it in every wince and the proof lies in the role Haiden has taken for himself. A position in the guard that he may or may not take, and the inheritance of Suerte's blade, which none of them could leave to rust in his grave. The spoils of victory, everything the hero should gain. The weapon, the acclaim, and the girl. Rai wonders how much of it Haiden actually wants.

 

Haiden squares his shoulders, jaw setting stubbornly. It doesn't make him the least bit more intimidating. “There's no leaping. I simply respect the effort it must have taken for her to lay down her pride and make the request. I cannot, in good conscience, ignore her.”

 

“Dammit, Haiden, why do you have to drag me into this?” Rai curses, and hates himself for feeling his resolve weakening.

 

The other man rolls his eyes. “Well, I would take Ryn--”

 

“Rynneth,” Rai automatically corrects, not knowing why he does so, only feeling that he must. As though pointing out that distinction every time would somehow make a difference.

 

Haiden shoots him a look and continues, “Rynneth, but she's too busy--”

 

“--planning the nuptials no doubt,” Rai mutters under his breath, and can't tell if Haiden heard him or not because his friend continues nevertheless.

 

“--and you're here now so I might as well abide by Fate's whims and bow down to her tender mercies,” Haiden finishes with a lazy drawl, and for a moment there, Rai sees a hint of the friend he remembers and not this solemn creature that Ryn has created for her own purposes. “Honestly, Rai, have you anything better to do? From what I hear, you've done nothing with the past six months but hunt ruhin.”

 

He snorts, shooting Haiden a glare from beneath the bangs that have slipped into his face. “And it's served me well enough this far. I'm not exactly hurting for coin.”

 

Disappointment creeps into Haiden's expression, making Rai feel a little lower than dirt. “Fine. I won't ask again,” he acquiesces, and a part of his tone sounds like he has expected that result and only asks because he hopes he will be surprised.

 

Feeling a growl burble up in his throat, Rai throws his head back against the high-backed opulent chair and closes his eyes. Unbidden, he recalls the last time Haiden made a request of him, and his complete inability to say no even then.

 

Rai looked at the corpse at his feet and crouched, poking listlessly at webbed wings and long, thin limbs. All were visible in the light of the flickering fire, casting eerie orange shadows on the corpse.

 

The ruhin resembled a human, for the most part, but the wings and claws completely betray its status as an otherworldly creature. There were also markings around the eyes, most notably the corners and drifting back towards the hairline. Dark enough to resemble ink but far too even to be unnatural. Combine those with the lines around its bony ankles and wrists, as well as the height which towered over a human's own and Rai was convinced that these beings didn't belong in Umbra.

 

There was a crunch of feet over the ground behind him. Boots. A heavy tread, or so his mercenary instincts warned him. The wind shifted direction, bringing a scent of metal, leather and something else - juniper perhaps.

 

“What do you think?” Haiden asked, his gaze falling on the same fallen enemy as Rai.

 

Shaking his head, S'raiya rose to his feet and dusted off his hands, as though trying to wipe himself clean of the stain of death which tainted them. “Mostly human, I guess. But not invincible. They can be killed, and I guess, that's really all that matters.”

 

“Well, I figured that myself, Rai,” Haiden remarked with a hint of humor, lips twisting in amusement as S'raiya turned back towards him. “I meant, about Suerte's story and what he claims is the cause of all this.” One hand waved vaguely towards the rest of the charred town and the bodies that were scattered about it - both ruhin and human alike.

 

Just like Alliele, the town behind them was little more than a husk of its former self. Its residents were scattered to the four winds, fleeing the winged menace, and most of the buildings hadn't survived the flames that still burnt in some of the farther sections. Rai doubted that even a rat remained behind.

Frowning, he shifted his attention to the motley assortment of strangers that had successfully fended off some of the invaders and emerged unscathed. Except, they were not strangers so much any more. Not after fighting together in Alliele and, fatefully, fighting together once more here in Starkly. In fact, Rai could probably put a name to a face for each of them now, even as they sat huddled around the fire, conversing in low tones. Just seconds before, Suerte had shared his story with them.

 

Of how the would-be king had failed, and how it was his failure that had triggered the arrival of the ruhin and the following disaster. How Weirth had succumbed to the ruhin's rule, and the creatures were spreading around the kingdom like a wildfire and there were none to stop them. How the ruhin king needed to be stopped before all humanity was engulfed. It sounded so much like those fairy tale's of Rai's mother that he couldn't hardly believe it, if it weren't for the proof that lay dead at his feet, slain by his own blade.

 

The ruhin were real, and so were the threat of them.

 

“Do you believe him?” he asked, slate grey eyes watching as Suerte spoke with Trahern, animatedly describing something to the self-proclaimed blacksmith. The older man seemed to be humoring him, listening patiently.

The toe of one leather boot poked the corpse in the side, watching it rock back and forth on the ground below them. “Hard not to,” Haiden remarked tonelessly, and drew his cloak tighter around his frame. The winds were changing, bringing the heavy scent of oncoming rain. It would be a long, wet night. Especially with no shelter to be found. “It's not like there's a better explanation.”

 

Rai grunted his semi-agreement, his gaze focused on the others huddled around the fire. Ryn was trying to draw Loka into conversation, but was being studiously ignored. And Gaelin hadn't spoken a word since they had been introduced, leaving Rai to wonder if the kid even could. Even more telling, however, was the final member of their group, sitting on the far reaches as though trying to blend into the night. An impossibility considering the pale shade of her hair and skin.

 

Maro was a bonelord and it was well-known that they preferred not to associate with humans. Yet, Maro had been the first to volunteer for Suerte's suicide mission to Weirth. The companion she had lost in Starkly's fall might have had something to do with it. But since she had started snubbing everyone after her initial declaration, Rai wasn't inclined to wander over and ask.

 

“It's foolishness,” Rai muttered, wondering if any of the others planned to join Suerte's cause. If they had been moved by his tale and his desire to play the hero.

 

Haiden shifted position, and his sword rattled in its sheath, the clanking carrying through the dim surrounding them. “He has a point. How much of a coincidence can it be that we all left Alliele, only to arrive in the same place. And choose the very same inn?”

 

“Fate is nothing more than an excuse, Haiden. You know that,” Rai countered sharply as the first sprinkling of rain dropped down onto face, slightly warm as Spring showers usually were. “A place to give blame when people don't want to take responsibility for their choices.”

 

“Hmm.” Haiden didn't sound convinced, but then, he ascribed more to destiny than Rai had ever bothered to. “I still think he's right though. Someone has to do it.”

 

Rai snorted. “Yeah, that's probably true. But no one says that someone has to be us either. Risking my life for a bunch of strangers who won't even be grateful? Don't think so.”

 

“And what if no one does? Where will Umbra be then?” Haiden posed, and Rai realized that his friend had already made up his mind. That somewhere in the middle of Suerte's passionate speech, Haiden had already decided to help him.

 

He cursed under his breath, fixing Suerte with a glare that the young man couldn't see from his position. He really wanted to burn a hole through Suerte's back for the nonsense he had filled Haiden's head with.

 

“You that eager to die?” he practically spat in Haiden's direction, half-angry and perhaps, half-afraid as well. Because he didn't want to join this fight and yet, Rai knew that he might just do so anyways.

 

“Not particularly, no,” Haiden replied honestly and then shrugged, rolling his head to the side where his gaze was captured by mountains on the horizon, dark forms against an even darker, black sky. “We can do this. Because if we don't, and no one does, then we might as well all prepare to die.”

 

“Or run away,” Rai muttered under his breath bitterly.

 

Haiden looked as if he were resisting the urge to strike him, forcing in a deep breath and letting it go slowly. “I doubt you'll do that, Rai. You're not a coward.”

 

“No, I'm not. And I'm also no knight. Or a paladin. You'll have to preach Suerte's nonsense to some other fool.” With a final glance towards the corpse at his feet, Rai turned away from the group with the intention of locating Flynt and leaving them to their ludicrous heroics.

 

Fingers grabbed his arm before he could get more than two steps, dragging him to a halt. He whirled to find Haiden glaring at him, stormy eyes flashing and his jaw squared in determination. It was a sight that used to be familiar to him, before his abrupt departure from Lathe.

 

“You wanted adventure, didn't you?” Haiden demanded, his tone a touch annoyed. “Well, this is it. You left Lathe for this very thing!”

 

“I didn't want to leave so I could save the world,” Rai retorted sharply, but he could already feel himself wavering. The fingers around his arm were like iron bars. Still, he wasn't trying all that hard to escape either.

 

“Maybe not that exactly, but you wanted something. And I'll bet anything that you still haven't found it.”

 

When Rai didn't immediately budge, Haiden growled in frustration. “Come on, Rai. I need your help. I can't protect these scrappers on my own.”

 

It was rather shameful of him to be swayed by those few words. Most prominently Haiden admitting that he needed S'raiya in some fashion. Heaving a great sigh, Rai reached up and unraveled Haiden's fingers from his arm. He had the feeling that he succumbed far too easily, and that he really was just as a big an idiot as the rest of them for even considering this madness.

 

“Stop begging,” he stated tiredly, forcing his body back towards the fire and their unwanted but now acquired companions. “It's pitiful. No wonder I always beat you when we spar.”

 

Haiden abruptly laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly before dropping it down. “I should have known you wouldn't let me down,” he commented amusedly. “Between the two of us, what's a couple of hundred ruhin, ne?”

 

“A couple of hundred ruhin,” Rai muses aloud, snapping out of his recollections with a shake of his head.

 

They had been so naïve back then. A couple hundred ruhin had only been the start of the madness they'd thrown themselves into. Giving in to Fate like that had been folly and even now, Rai wonders why they couldn't have just let things lie. Or why he has let Haiden talk him into it.

 

Haiden stirs at the sound of Rai's voice, his forehead crinkling in confusion. “I doubt that's the problem here,” he says, giving Rai a strange look.

 

“Probably not,” S'raiya agrees rather than explain that he had been taking a trip into the past. He drops his head and stares at Haiden. “But it's still probably something you can't handle on your own. I'll help you play the knight again.”

 

The smile that cracks Haiden's face is nearly enough to make him feel it's worth it. Even if he still can't shake the sensation of something not-quite-right.

 

* * *

 

Dawn is barely peeking over the horizon when they ride out of Tennyson Manor, horses plied with supplies and weapons sharpened and at the ready. Rynneth had accepted Haiden's departure with grace, merely pouting that she would miss him and hoping that nothing too untoward was wrong with Loka. And she had promised by the time they returned, she and Haiden could be wed. Rai would've had to have been blind to miss the faint look of uneasiness Haiden had given her.

 

Following Haiden's lead, they take the west gate - the “back” gate - out of Weirth, where they are least likely to run into any fans. Most specifically of Haiden's, since Lord Tennyson had gone to great efforts to expound on Haiden's deeds. In fact, every one of the so-called heroes are becoming well-known thanks to the lord, except for S'raiya. And he prefers it that way.

 

“If she's not at the guild, then where is she?” Rai asks the moment they are out in the open, and he can breathe a bit easier without being surrounded by opulence and servants catering to his every whim. He really doesn't understand how Haiden can live with it himself.

 

Stormy eyes are locked on the horizon, pinking with golds and oranges as the sun rises on the opposite bank behind them. “Yule,” he responds. “It's a few days ride from here.”

 

“That's the complete opposite direction from the guild.” Rai finds himself even more confused. Just what in Solan's name is wrong with Loka? “Why didn't she just go to them for aid?”

 

“Because she doesn't want them to know,” Haiden explains with an exasperated noise, as he shoots Rai a chastising look. “Allmighty, Rai, did you even read the letter?”

 

The hunter shrugs dismissively. “Enough of it. I got the important bits,” Rai replies defensively. He hadn't originally planned on helping, after all. Why would he care enough to gather all the necessary information?

 

Haiden rolls his eyes. “Glad to see nothing's changed. How about I just point you in the direction of the enemy and you can slash from there. Will that work?”

 

He snorts, shifting position in the saddle as his shoulder starts to throb. He must have slept on it wrong last night. Rai blames the too-comfortable bed. “Give me some credit, Haiden. I'm not that reckless.”

 

“You might as well be, then and now,” his friend counters. “I distinctly remember a time when Ryn--”

 

“Ugh,” Rai groans, interrupting whatever Haiden has planned to say with a grimace. “Let's not talk about her at all, shall we? It's bad enough that you're marrying her.”

 

He expects Haiden to be affronted, but instead, the other man simply regards him with curiosity, those stormy eyes always so penetrating. He doesn't even make an effort to defend his intended. “You never did like her.”

 

“No, and I still don't,” Rai replies bluntly, seeing no need to mince words. He's always considered Ryn about two steps from useless and he finds it amusing that where she once used to try and cling to him, she has now switched her attention to Haiden.

 

He has every intention of explaining further, perhaps even calling Haiden on what appears to be mixed feelings on his own marriage, when a scent floats his direction. Lemon spice and leather, a familiar odor that he has come to learn in the past six months of hunting. His instincts sharpen, and the prickle on the edge of his scalp is all the warning he needs.

 

The wind stirs again and Rai reacts quickly. “Down!” he orders and is glad that Haiden obeys without question as they drop to the ground, narrowly avoiding arrows that shoot from seemingly nowhere.

 

S'raiya knows these enemies, however. They intend to miss, wanting to drive their prey from their horses to fight on even ground. The ruhin love a good fight as much as any human. Especially when they have to work for it.

 

“Damn tiharire,” Rai mutters under his breath, reaching up to fumble at the strap for his sword and draw it free. He meets Haiden's gaze. “Sure you can still fight, captain?” He means it as a teasing insult and Haiden knows it.

 

He is greeted with a challenging stare before Haiden draws his sword and disappears around the side of his horse, the ringing sound of blade meeting blade filling the air.

 

Rai smirks and follows Haiden's example, rising to meet the studded mace of his own opponent. A face that is too pretty to belong on such a bloodthirsty creature grins down at him from his superior height. But Rai has been hunting the ruhin for the past six months. He knows their strengths and their weaknesses. It is a fight that ends all too quickly.

 

Ducking under a swing, he drops into a crouch and slams his elbow into the tiharire's knee. A satisfying crack accompanies the motion, and the tiharire howls, cursing in his own language. Rai is already up on his feet, however, blocking an angry swipe and slicing his blade across the tiharire's abdomen. Blood gushes out and he nimbly avoids it, as well as the last dying strike in the form of raking claws.

 

He has no time to savor the victory, whirling to face another opponent that is swooping down on him from above. Their blades meet and the force of the attack is enough to drive Rai back a pace. He grits his teeth, pushing back against the ruhin's greater strength. He hates it when they attack from above because it puts him at a disadvantage. In the background, the clash of metal on metal assures him that Haiden is still fighting as well, not that Rai is even considering asking for help. He has survived the past few months on his own after all.

 

The ruhin above him cackles, wings flapping to hold him aloft. He mutters something that is likely a taunt, but is difficult to tell considering the language barrier. Rai sneers and abruptly shifts his weight, directing the force of the ruhin's attack to the side. It catches the tiharire off balance and he careens to the side, causing the metals of their blades to screech as one slides down the other.

 

Rai grunts, the ruhin's weight making him lose his grip on the hilt. He lets the sword slip through his fingers and lashes out with a boot, catching his opponent in the side. He hears a crack as his kick crunches a few bones, easy to do with an enemy as thin as the tiharire. A wing - resembling something a dragonfly bears - nearly slaps him in the face but he shifts to avoid it, and the subsequent kick that the ruhin directs his way. The damn things are fast.

 

The tiharire rolls out from under him, trying to regain its footing, and Rai catches sight of the hilt of his sword. He dives for it, fingers wrapping around the cold bone and in a split-second, he throws his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the claws aiming for him. The ruhin snarls again, but Rai is already flipping to his feet, swinging the blade through the air.

 

It connects with the ruhin's neck, neatly decapitating him and sending the head flying off into the bushes. The body totters for all of a second before crumpling, faintly twitching.

 

Panting, Rai turns towards Haiden, only to see that the last of the ruhin is sneaking up behind him, fully prepared to kill. Honor-less cretin. He hurriedly snatches the dagger out of his boot and flicks it across the road, the blade neatly slamming into the back of the ruhin's head. As the body crumbles forward, it reveals Haiden's astonished face watching the tiharire fall.

 

“Getting soft in your life of luxury,” Rai taunts, smirking victoriously. “Is this how the captain of the guard plans on protecting his king?”

 

“I haven't accepted it yet,” Haiden reminds him, toeing the corpse at his feet with some disinterest. “Good throw though. Right on target.”

 

Rai simply shakes his head and reaches for his leather pouch. No need to waste a good bounty after all, even if they were only tiharire and not nearly as lucrative as a shedim or zafrire.

 

He thinks that this little trip might be so bad after all, rescuing Loka aside. It will be something like old times and Rai supposes that isn't too bad. All things considered.

 

* * *