Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Aftermath ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )

Aftermath

Chapter Five: Of Ignorance Feigned

 

It isn't the type of bar that Rai usually frequents, but he doesn't feel in the mood for loud and rowdy tonight. He just wants a quiet drink in a quiet place where he can actually enjoy the alcohol and let the warmth of the ale seep into the aching muscles of several days ride. While he is used to traveling and hunting, it is quite different to be in the saddle for hours upon end. He hopes that Haiden is in the same state.

 

Elbows propped up on the counter in front of him, Rai raises his mug to his lips and drinks deeply of the thick, full ale. He has never been one for the heavier liquors, preferring a full-bodied ale over anything else. The bartender has one of his gold coins in his pocket, he won't go without all night. And this ensures he won't be bothered either. Which is exactly what he wants.

 

Rai hissed, flinching away from the iron-red metal as it seared against his skin, marking him for perhaps the third time in this session. The chains rattled as he tugged on them, preventing him from moving more than a half foot away. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out, and wondered how long it had been. Because he had grown all too used to the taste of blood on his tongue.

 

His every muscle was drawn taut as he bore the pain, and the smell of scorched flesh rose to his nostrils. It made his stomach churn and he gagged, thanking He-That-Ruled that there was nothing left in his belly. His fingers ached from where he had clenched them so hard - especially the two they had carefully broken to gauge his reaction-- and the headache pulsing at the back of his skull made him dizzy. But he endured, because no way was he going to allow these monsters to break him.

 

The poker drew away and Rai sucked in a breath, head hanging as he tried to will the pain away. His entire body felt like one big bruise. Would he even be able to count the scars in the end? Or would they kill him long before that? He hated himself in that moment, for being weak enough to end up in their hold. They should have just killed him. This playing was pointless and the moment he got free, he was going to show them just how foolish they had been.

 

His eyes peeled open and he found himself looking into the smirk of a face much too beautiful to belong on such an inhumane creature. “This one's tough,” the ruhin remarked casually, gripping his chin with clawed fingers and roughly turning his head from side to side. “He barely flinches.”

 

One of his allies walked past him, knocking the ruhin in the side of the head as though chastising him. He spat something in their language at the ruhin, and he dropped his hold on Rai, letting his head fall back down.

 

He shrugged. “I'm just saying,” Rai's tormentor complained, almost like a whine, as he rose to his feet. Leathery wings fluttered behind him, black as obsidian and just as glossy. Not to mention so small that they were useless for flying, merely vestigial. He was a lilin, one of the weakest of the ruhin, and yet, just as dangerous.

 

Behind him, another of the ruhin, a feather-winged zafrire as Rai had identified earlier, rose to his feet with a creak of wings and gripped Rai's hair with his hand. He jerked Rai's head back and Rai peeled his eyes open to meet the ruhin's bright blue gaze. He muttered something with a smirk on his lips - a smirk laced with malicious, pernicious intent. And Rai wondered what painful torture the zafrire was considering now.

 

Whatever it was, he could endure. Physical pain was nothing. He could survive the torture. The strikes and the burns and the slashes and the broken fingers. He could endure all of that. It was just physical, just pain. He would wait for his chance.

 

And then, somewhere beyond his sight, he caught the sound of a scream. Woman or child, he couldn't tell with the distance. But it was filled with pain and terror, and he jerked, eyes widening in shock. They had other captives? They were torturing others?

 

He regretted his instinctual reaction, however, when the zafrire's smile widened even further. Eyes lighting up with a new idea. He loosened his hold on Rai's hair, and moved to grip the back of his neck, claws pricking into his scalp.

 

“Ah, now that was telling, wasn't it?” he murmured, voice rough and raspy. They had certainly picked up on Common quickly.

 

Rai felt every muscle in his body stiffen. “Monster,” he growled, anger warring with the feeling of tension winding through his limbs. He didn't like the sound of the ruhin's amusement. “I will kill you.”

 

“Promises, promises,” the zafrire taunted boredly, and tipped his head to the side. “Pain is nothing to you. So I'm thinking, let's try something else. Yes, brothers?” he questioned, lifting his gaze to the other ruhin in the room.

 

Their laughter was all the agreement he needed.

 

Rai didn't want to ask, not that he was given the chance. The claws on the back of his neck dug a bit deeper, drawing pinpricks of blood. And as he stared into eyes as bright blue as the sky, he felt something digging into his mind. Like an oily presence, slithering into his thoughts and his dreams, tainting everything it touched.

 

It was ripping his memories from him. Examining them. Taking them apart piece by piece and dissecting every emotion, every remembered voice and image. The presence chuckled over them, finding itself amused by every shattered dream until Rai felt as if he wanted to claw his own skull open to rid himself of it.

 

He wanted to yell, shout, do something and get that something out of his thoughts. But in that moment, he realized he couldn't move. His throat was locked up, so thick that he was surprised he could even breathe.

 

And the zafrire smirked.

 

Rai hunches further over his chair, his free hand rising to rub at his forehead as he takes another sip of his ale. It is worse today, he realizes. The memories are attacking him, whether he likes it or not. Perhaps it is because he hasn't tracked down the ruhin specifically lately. Maybe his subconscious cannot be satisfied if he isn't hunting down every last one.

 

The ale goes down smooth, helping to quell the nausea that is rising. He swears he can smell the blood, the acrid odor of burning flesh, even over the scent that hangs heavy in the bar. It's something Rai has been unable to chase away. A demon he cannot exorcise or drown.

 

He can see already that it is going to be a long night, and he curses Haiden for abandoning him for his precious intended. As if they couldn't live a week without each other. It is sickening.

 

Rai takes another deep sip of the ale. He wonders how many more he will manage tonight.

 

Their eyes were hopeful, tear-filled, begging. “Please,” the woman implored, already on her knees and looking as if her next step was to press forehead to the ground. “We can't do anything. And she's my only daughter.”

 

Around her, the other villagers murmured their agreement, many of them already crying. Their clothes were tattered and torn, soot-stained and blood-spattered. Half of their home lay in a crumpled mess. The smell of ash and death was so thick on the air, Rai felt he were choking on it.

 

Haiden was so obviously torn, the look on his face one of complete and utter helplessness. It didn't help that he had two voices shouting at him from each side. Both demanding opposite actions. And both demanding that he make the decision for all of them.

 

A part of Rai was glad that he hadn't been the one named their leader. And a part of him sympathized with Haiden, for the burden he had to carry. He couldn't have been the one to make the decisions. And he supposed that was the difference between he and Haiden, the things they couldn't do for themselves, and things that they could.

 

“We have to help,” Suerte urged, always the first to jump into action when someone's life was at stake. It was an endearing quality, but it was also fleeceable. He thought he could defeat anything, could save anyone. “They can't count on anyone else.”

 

Loka tossed the younger man a cool glare, Gaelin clutching her robes at her side. “Have you forgotten your own tale?” she demanded, jaw set with determination. “We've a limited time to close that gate before it becomes permanent.”

 

“That doesn't mean we should just abandon them!” Suerte argued, and frantically searched the others of their party for someone to be on his side.

 

None would meet his eyes. Maro was perfectly apathetic, not particularly caring what happened to another bunch of humans. She had her own reasons, after all. Trahern was equally torn and Ryn looked close to tears herself. It was a choice she couldn't make either, her heart sympathetic to the villagers and her logicality siding with Loka. It wasn't that the mage was heartless or that she didn't care, but that she saw all sides of the issue.

 

Several lives for thousands. What was the balance there? Which side weighed more, was worth more? Did they take the time to rescue a few and lose the chance to destroy the portal? Or did they ignore the fate of those taken for the sake of the kingdom?

 

Loka's green eyes were hard, unwavering in their resolution. “And if we don't, we resign the rest of this country to a lifetime of fear. I won't subject Gaelin to that dread, even if means I am to be hated.”

 

She had a point, a very valid detail. And Rai could see that Haiden knew it as well. But he was still torn. It was hard to look into the eyes of the villagers, so damn hopeful and worried and terrified, and know that he needed to tell them he couldn't help.

 

And then Haiden was looking at him, asking - silently - for his opinion. Looking to S'raiya for the answers, as if he were any more knowledgeable. And like always, he couldn't say no to those stormy eyes.

 

Hating himself, hating Haiden, hating everything, Rai found himself stepping forward. Past the defiant stares Suerte and Loka were giving each other. Past the silent forms of the others, who couldn't offer an opinion. Until he was standing in the forefront, Haiden at his back, an indecisive presence.

 

He could do this, Rai decided. He had taken his position long ago, watching Haiden's back because no one else could. And he could be the one to say 'no' because Rai wasn't a hero, he never would be. He'd come to terms with that.

 

“I'm sorry,” he stated quietly, and didn't flinch when the old woman's lip quivered or her pale eyes filled with tears. “We cannot do this for you.” And though it brought up things he would rather not remember, Rai continued, his hands clenching into fists at his side. “Knowing the ruhin, chances are your loved ones have already perished.”

 

And when the screams came, the yelling and the crying and throwing of objects. The scorn and the hatred, he bore it all without a flinch. The accusations, the cries of uncomplimentary names, and the glares, he stood rigid and unmoving. And Haiden was grateful, as were the others, because Suerte, and perhaps Ryn, had been the only one who thought to save the few. But they hadn't been able to say it.

 

It was okay, because Rai wasn't a hero. He could be the villain, if needed. And if he heard screaming in his sleep, if he saw their tortured faces and felt the victim's hands trying to pull him under, he told no one. His burden to bear, his price to pay.

 

His hand shakes slightly as he brings the tankard to his lips once more. He brushes his fingers over his ear, where torn flesh is the only reminder of the two rings that once resided there. He doesn't know if the two that remain in the other are worth it to keep, but he can't force himself to remove them either.

 

The bartender is tossing him strange looks, but he doesn't care. It is likely that Rai will never see this man again. There are many bars in Weirth, especially after the madness of the ruhin incursion. Too many seek to drown their sorrows, their nightmares in alcohol. And he is not the only one.

 

There are too many things that Rai wishes he doesn't have to remember. Things they had witnessed, where they'd been too late, or where it hadn't mattered if they'd arrived at all. Mistakes he himself had made, or had watched the others make.

 

And those that hadn't made it through. Suerte who fell in the end, and Loka who fell afterwards. If only alcohol could wipe away those memories as well. Rai thinks he might be happier if he couldn't remember anything.

 

Anything at all.

 

“By Solan,” Loka breathed, even her usual calm bothered by the scene before them. She hurriedly grabbed Gaelin and covered his eyes with her hand, turning him away from the sight.

 

The tiny village couldn't have held more than twenty families. It was a small collection of houses on the edge of a large vegetable patch, likely something that the entire village farmed together. A small corral was off to the side, once the home of cattle. Now it bore only bloodstains and gutted corpses. The ruhin had feasted well on this village's livestock.

 

Swallowing thickly, Loka stared straight ahead, her voice calmer than she seemed to be. “Do what you need to do,” she informed Suerte, her eyes already haunted by what she had seen. “Gaelin and I will wait beyond the hill.”

 

The younger man could only nod, letting her take Gaelin away from something he didn't need to see. He was still so very young, just a child. Which begged the question as to why Loka had brought him along. Rai knew that Gaelin had no other family but still, Loka could have chosen not to help them. Not to join their foolish quest.

 

Beside Rai, Haiden stood, his jaw set with anger and fury flashing in his stormy expression. Like the sky before a thunderstorm descended. “Monsters,” he hissed under his breath, and at his side, his hands clenched into fists.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Rai uncomfortably stepped forward, passing the blackened remains of a hand-built wooden fence that surrounded the entire hamlet. Debris and ash crunched beneath his boots and he winched at the unnaturally loud sound in the silence.

 

“What are you doing?” Ryn demanded, and she sounded frightened. Her voice was tight, a few steps away from tears. She, too, hung back as if afraid to take a step forwards.

 

He didn't even toss her a glance. “Checking for survivors,” Rai replied tonelessly, stepping towards the first home with the door torn off of it, swinging lazily from one hinge. “You'd be better off waiting with Loka.”

 

Leaning against a surviving tree, hands crossed over her chest, Maro nearly blended in with the pale trunk. “Survivors?” she snorted dismissively. “I didn't think you were so optimistic, S'raiya.”

 

Maro never called him Rai like the others, as though it were beneath her to shorten anyone's name.

 

“It's not for my sake,” he muttered, doubting that she heard him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the only one of the others that had joined him was Trahern. Grim determination was written into the blacksmith's age-lined face as he moved to the house across from the one Rai stood in front of and carefully pushed open the door.

 

Taking his own breath, Rai slowly stepped inside to the home, which really amounted to nothing more than a large hut. Probably enough for a three-person family but no more. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim darkness, not that he needed the sight since his nose was doing the seeing for him. He smelled death, and it was fresh. Blood and bodies. And he swore the walls still breathed with their final screams.

 

He peered through the dim and found two small bodies, one tossed carelessly over the other. He didn't need to get any closer to see that they were indeed dead. One generally couldn't survive those kinds of wounds. He shuddered, swallowed down the rising nausea and quickly stepped back outside. Desperately needing a breath of fresh air.

 

Trahern was leaving at the same moment and their eyes met. “Rai,” he began slowly, looking a bit green around the edges. “I really don't think we're going to find a survivor. And I'm loathe to look.”

 

Rai dropped his hand from in front of his mouth, only belatedly realizing that he had put it there. He nodded mutely, having to agree with Trahern. If those monsters could do... that to nothing more than children, they would have been just as thorough with the rest of the village. And honestly, Rai couldn't bear to check the other houses. His stomach was already twisting in knots.

 

“You see,” Suerte called to them, from the safety of the perimeter where he couldn't see the truth of the village's state. “This is why we have to stop them. To prevent this from happening again.”

 

And Rai, for all his initial desire to not join their fool's errand, found himself in perfect agreement for the first time.

 

His head is beginning to ache, not from the alcohol but from the force of rubbing his fingers into it and Rai reluctantly drops his hand. It's impossible to wipe away the images anyways, and in that moment, he can remember hating Suerte for ever introducing to them the idea of the quest. And he had hated Haiden for convincing him. The ruhin may be as intelligent as humans, but they had nothing of humanity.

 

Children. To do that to children...

 

Rai's stomach churns again and he chases it away with a finishing swallow of his tankard. He reaches for another, which the bartender has so helpfully already provided for him. The somewhat fruity taste splashes over his tongue, erasing the memories of ash.

 

It isn't the first time he has recalled the past and regretted his decision. And Rai doubts it will be the last. For all his attempts to escape his foolish jaunt into heroics, he cannot seem to forget. Push it away, run from it. Instead, it plays in his head over and over again. Night and day. Enough nightmares to last a lifetime.

 

His shoulder starts to throb and Rai reaches up to rub at the pulsing muscle, fingers feeling the upraised flesh of burn scars through the thin fabric of his shirt. The warmth of the bar had assured him of being able to remove his cloak. They are reminders he will never lose of the ruhin's curiosity and their amusement.

 

His body was moving without his permission, fingers grasping and pulling himself to his feet. He could feel the tug on the wound on his back, that they'd sloppily tried to burn closed and failed miserably. Blood poured anew as his movement tore it back open. Yet, his body still rose, like a puppet on strings.

 

There was chortling around him and then the ruhin standing off to the side raised her hand, wiggling claw-tipped fingers. And he was trudging forward, booted feet crunching over discarded pottery beneath his feet. He vaguely registered the weight of a weapon in his hands - his own sword - and in front of him, they cowered. Their eyes wide with fear.

 

He counted and categorized. He couldn't seem to stop himself. Two children. A woman. A man. Probably a family unit. Held captive to the ruhin's whim, just like himself. He wondered how long they had huddled together, praying to something for a rescue.

 

“How long?” his captors pondered aloud, talking amongst themselves. “How long before he breaks?”

 

“A week? Two weeks?”

 

“Nah. I give him five days.”

 

They spoke in the common language of Rai's world so that he could understand. They wanted him to know that they discussed his state of mind, that they were betting on him. As if Rai hadn't already realized he was just a toy to them. Just a plaything to satisfy their curiosity of the race called “human” which they didn't know.

 

He was close enough now that he could see their faces, pale and frightened. Their eyes, glassy and resigned. And then he was lifting his blade, despite screaming at himself to stop. Despite roaring and raging. His own lips were moving, pulling into something manic, though horror was rippling through his emotions.

 

“I do not know, Alukah, it may only take three.” And the laughter seemed to echo, though it was only a dull roar in comparison to their shrieks.

 

The sword fell. And their screams drowned out his own.

 

“Yo.” A familiar voice interrupts Rai and he nearly starts as he blinks out of the unwanted memory. Turning slowly to the side, feeling as if his entire body is slogging, he is surprised to find Haiden climbing into the bar stool next to him. He blinks again, especially at a darkening mark on his friend's right cheek.

 

“Haiden?”

 

His friend grins, already signaling the bartender for a drink. “Would anyone else dare approach the moody aura you've got hanging around you?” he teases, looking above Rai's head as though there were an actual black cloud above him.

 

“Shouldn't you be playing house with the wife?” Rai questions, ignoring the question of his mood. He struggles to sit up straighter in his seat, a better picture of poise and nonchalance.

 

Haiden winces, and ignores the question for a moment as the bartender wanders their direction. “Whiskey,” he orders. “And leave the bottle.”

 

Rubbing a towel through a glass, the man lifts a brow in question and Haiden waves him off. “I can pay,” he assures the man, waving a silver coin in his direction. “This good enough?”

 

Lips cracking a smile, the bartender practically snatches the coin from his hand. “It'll do. Be right up, sir,” he replies, and turns away to search the lines of bottles from the proper alcohol.

 

Order given, Haiden sighs and relaxes into his stool. “I ended it,” he explains out of the blue.

 

Shock ripples through Rai's soggy state, and he wonders if he's so drunk that he misheard. “You... what?”

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don't love her, Rai. And I really don't think she loves me either.” He tips his head in thanks as the glass of whiskey is slid his direction, and downs the first shot in one big gulp. He reaches for the bottle, sloppily pouring another shot.

 

“What made you have this brilliant revelation?” Rai demands a bit more forcefully than he intended. Damn ale. He reaches for another drink of it.

 

Haiden shrugs, swirling the amber liquid around in the clear glass before drinking another shot, awfully faster than the one before. “Seeing Trahern and Yumi together made me realize that. I got to thinking... would she have wanted to be with me if I hadn't saved the world?”

 

“You can't really compare your relationship to them,” Rai points out logically, wondering how his alcohol-befuddled mind could even find rationality. “They've been married for years.”

 

Stormy eyes regard him amusedly. “I thought you didn't like the idea of me marrying her.”

 

Rai snorts. “Still don't. I just don't want you to make all these rash decisions and regret it later. Because then you'll come crying to me or something.” He hunches his shoulders, gulping down a hefty drink of the ale.

 

“Yeah, well...” Haiden trails off, and rakes a hand through his hair, a habit he's picked up on lately. It musses up the perfectly ordered strands - something Rai suspects Ryn had a hand in. “Ryn and I've never behaved the way they do. And a part of me doesn't want to, with her anyways.”

 

Rai falls silent, knowing exactly what Haiden is talking about. He had stumbled onto such a scene himself, without meaning to, and it had struck him even then. Trahern and Yumi really were in love and he hadn't even known that it was possible.

 

It had been after supper later that night. Rai had been passing by the kitchen with the intention of seeking Trahern in his study, thinking he might try and find something interesting to read. The low murmur of conversation caught his attention and he paused by the doorway, hand on the frame as he peered within.

 

Yumi was standing at the counter, hands buried into a wide bucket of soapy water, obviously washing the dishware from dinner. Trahern stood just behind her, arms wrapped around her waist. He pressed a kiss to her neck, and murmured something. Yumi chuckled, her voice equally low as she responded, still scrubbing. The couple swayed slowly, to a beat only they could hear, and Trahern whispered in her ear.

 

It was a scene that seemed carved from some romantic fairy tale, so much so that Rai could practically feel the love emanating from them. Everything he had seen of the two that day had only deepened his belief. They supported one another and they got along well.

 

Realizing that he would be intruding, Rai quietly turned away from the scene, and nearly collided with Haiden who had somehow snuck up beside him. His friend had a strange look on his face, and he could tell that stormy eyes had also bore witness to the same view. The two males exchanged glances, silently agreeing to leave the married couple to their moment.

 

The strange expression on Haiden's face never fully left him however. And it was clear that he was contemplating something, even hours later when they were settling into the second spare room, Gaelin occupying the first. That probably should have been Rai's first clue that all was not certain in Haiden's thoughts.

 

Grunting, Rai shakes his head and sips at his ale. “So what now then?” he asks, his gaze captured by the whorls of the dark, polished wood of the bar.

 

Haiden sighs, fingers pushing his shot glass back and forth across the top. Leaving a small streak of condensation in his wake. “I don't know,” he replies, sounding so dejected it is nearly amusing to Rai. “I even turned down the position that Lord Tennyson wanted to give to me. It just didn't seem right to take it.”

 

“You did deserve it though,” S'raiya states pointedly, gesturing with a tip of his head. “Seems like the kind of thing you'd do, too. Gives you the opportunity to protect everyone.”

 

The other man shrugs, and finally tosses back another shot - his fourth. “It wasn't for me though,” he clarifies, and slurs a bit on the last word. He really is a lightweight. “It was incentive to marry Ryn and you know it.”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you weren't suited for it any less. Tennyson is calculating, not stupid,” Rai returns pointedly, and wonders if he should take away Haiden's bottle. “I take it Rynneth didn't accept it easily?”

 

Haiden scoffs, snorting derisively. “She threw a vase at me,” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the bruise that Rai noticed earlier.

 

He has to fight down a chuckle as he looks at Haiden; it is a pretty decent mark. “You didn't think to duck?” he asks, though he wouldn't be surprised if Haiden, with his overbearing sense of responsibility and propriety, allowed her to hit him.

 

“For a noble, she's got pretty good aim.” Haiden shakes his head, toying with the idea of another drink before going for it.

 

Rai rolls his head. “Too bad she couldn't have used it six months ago. Might've made her a bit more helpful.” He pushes his mug away, having had enough. Besides, if he gets too inebriated, he won't be able to haul Haiden somewhere when the man gets absolutely sotted. Which it seems he plans to do.

 

Stormy eyes shoot him a knowing look. “It probably didn't help that you were critical of everything about her. She actually said that you know.” He pauses to sloppily pour another drink, splashing some of the amber liquid onto the table. “It's Rai, isn't it?” he continues, attempting to mimic her voice and only partially succeeding. “He told you to end it, didn't he?” Haiden snorts again.

 

The hunter lifts one brow, not surprised in the slightest. Once Ryn had learned she couldn't work her wiles on him, she hadn't really liked him much either. Though Haiden has a point; he hadn't given her much of a chance. He simply hadn't liked the girl from the moment she thrust herself into the group under false pretenses. He had known there was something fake about her from the beginning, and her later revelations hadn't come as much of a surprise.

 

“It's my fault then?” he replies blandly, ready to accept the blame if it means Haiden won't be marrying the useless girl anytime soon.

 

Haiden nods, balancing one elbow on the counter as he swirls his shot glass in front of him. He watches the liquid eddy within the glass. “Yeah. So I wouldn't recommend coming back to the manor tonight.” He grimaces, his free hand brushing across his bruised cheek. “In fact, I wouldn't recommend it for myself.”

 

Rai chuckles. “Luckily, I wasn't planning to anyways.” With Haiden sufficiently distracted, he surreptitiously reaches for the bottle, slowly pushing it away from the both of them. “What are you going to do now, since you lost your one true love?”

 

The look he receives in return is pointed, before Haiden's lips pull into a sloppy grin. “You don't need a partner, do you?”

 

He is surprised that the request doesn't bother him. As much as he's been trying to escape from everyone, he's never really included Haiden in the 'everyone' category. And he has to admit, that the past couple of weeks have been like old times.

 

S'raiya pushes the bottle further away, glad that Haiden hasn't seemed to notice its absence. “A partner?” he drawls with an amused smirk. “One who can't even defend himself from a girl?”

 

“Maro would slay you if she heard that,” Haiden accuses, giving a playful shudder of his shoulders at the thought of the prideful bonelord.

 

“Yeah, well, Maro isn't exactly human,” Rai counters and chuckles just a bit himself. At least Haiden doesn't look like he's about to throw himself off a cliff, seeking penance for his behavior anymore. Honestly, his friend takes his honor too earnestly at times. It will be the death of him one day; Rai is sure of it.

 

Sniffing, Haiden finishes off the last bit of his whiskey and slams the glass onto the counter, turning it over before he does so. “Does that mean you won't take me along, slaying ruhin everywhere we go?”

 

“I suppose, as far as partners go, I could do worst,” Rai responds, making it sound like a great trial. “We leave on the morrow then?”

 

Haiden nods, and slapping his palms on the counter, he attempts to hop off the stool. But it is an unsteady motion and he nearly topples over, prompting Rai to quickly grab his arm to keep him from falling. He grunts from Haiden's extra weight, his friend always being a bit heavier than him, and quickly slides off his own stool.

 

It's always like this. He seems perfectly fine as he tosses them away at the bar, but the minute he moves, it's like the alcohol instantly floods his system.

 

“Oops,” Haiden mutters sheepishly, and grasps onto the counter unsteadily. “Didn't mean to drink so much.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Rai pulls a silver coin out and sets it on the bar top, to cover anything they might have overdrank. “You damn lightweight,” he grunts, releasing Haiden to grab his sword and the pack that he had brought in with him. If Haiden falls, it's his own damn fault. And he'll find it secretly amusing.

 

“Hnn,” is all Haiden can reply intelligibly, looking a little unfocused.

 

S'raiya slings his sheath and saddlebag over one shoulder and grabs Haiden's upper arm. The other man stumbles against him, as if he's forgotten which foot was which, but manages to take a few steps.

 

“Come on,” Rai orders, attempting to pull Haiden towards the doorway and the inn that was a few doors down. He had already gotten himself a room earlier, having made no plans to stay in the manor at all. “Before you pass out, because I'm not carrying your drunk ass.”

 

“I'm not that pissed,” Haiden counters, and with great effort, succeeds in walking on his own, though a bit unsteadily. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, very slowly.

 

Amused, Rai heads for the door and keeps half an eye on the inebriated man. “You're going to be a bitch tomorrow,” he tosses over his shoulder. Haiden always turns into a baby when he has a hangover.

 

“Nnngh, probably,” Haiden admits as he follows Rai out the door, pushing it open into the chill of late night in Autumn. In a few hours, it will probably be cold enough for them to see their breath, but on the plus side, the sky is so clear that they can see every star in stark detail.

 

The quiet is almost comfortable as they make their way down the street, occasionally passing a stranger or two. But otherwise, it's pretty silent in Weirth, most of the city within their homes and even more of them already sleeping. Behind him, Haiden's gait is unsteady but continuous and Rai keeps an ear out, just in case he topples to the ground.

 

Luckily, it is not far to the inn. And then he can toss Haiden's inebriated body into a bed and amuse himself at Haiden's expense when he wakes up moody as hell and with an aching head the next day.

 

“Do you think he hates me?”

 

Rai blinks, the sudden question emerging from nowhere. He tosses a look over his shoulder, brow crinkling. “Who?” he asks, thinking that Haiden could be talking about anyone they know, though Lord Tennyson is probably still on the forefront of his mind.

 

“Him,” Haiden continues, and firms his lips as he tries to remember. “Su...Ser...” His drunken lips fumble over the name and Rai's brows raise a bit higher.

 

“Suerte?” he supplies, thinking that the brat's name is hard enough to pronounce sober. No wonder Haiden has so much trouble with it.

 

Hands shoved in his pocket, Haiden inclines his head. “Mmm,” he replies, and tips his head back, looking up at the sky. “I should've saved him.”

 

Confusion for the sudden statement floods Rai, until he remembers that Haiden's always been a sentimental drunk. And a verbose one as well. He sighs, rubbing a few fingers over his forehead.

 

“You can't save everyone, Haiden. You're just one man.” He wonders how long Haiden has been letting this eat at him, and then realizes, it's probably been since six months ago. The man's guilt complex is only matched by his sense of duty and responsibility. He has no doubt that Haiden blames himself for Suerte's death.

 

Haiden makes a non-committal noise and returns his gaze to the ground, watching himself put one foot before the other. “I wonder why it is I can't do anything right.”

 

Rai snorts at the statement, knowing it to be a complete crock. “Haiden, shut up. You're drunk and muttering.”

 

“I'm not that drunk,” Haiden retorts, and then promptly trips on a rock, nearly falling flat on his face. Rai waits patiently for him to regain his balance. “What are you doing, Rai?”

 

That question also appears to come out of nowhere. “I'm trying to get to the inn but you're thwarting all my attempts,” Rai states with some impatience, and is glad that the inn isn't but a building away. They can be inside and warm within a matter of minutes if Haiden would just get his ass moving.

 

“Not what I meant.”

 

Haiden catches up to him, his stormy eyes attempting a determined focus but only passing off as mistily coherent. His walk is arrhythmic. “I was watching, you know,” he says, as if Rai really is supposed to understand what he's talking about. “From before, I mean. You were staring off into space a good five minutes before I finally said something to you.”

 

Crinkling his brow, Rai tries to decipher the confusing melange of words. He assumes that Haiden means just now, in the bar, and wonders why that's supposed to hold some importance for him. “And?”

 

“Six months,” Haiden says, and his stare is nearly piercing, nearly burning. “You're hiding. I think, anyways.”

 

Sighing heavily, Rai shakes his head and grabs Haiden's elbow, pulling the inebriated man after him. “Emotional drunk,” he mutters under his breath as he pushes through the front door of the Inn. Haiden is making very little sense.

 

“I'm not drunk,” his best friend mumbles, but he shuts up and Rai is grateful for that. He doesn't feel like interpreting anything else that Haiden might have to say.

 

It is probably only sheer luck that allows Rai to eventually get Haiden up into the room and collapsed onto a bed. And then Haiden is unconscious, snoring loud enough to wake the damned, and sprawled out over every available inch of his bed. Rai breathes a sigh of relief and settles into the bedroll he spreads over the floor, not caring that he's given up his bed. It's far better than staying in the manor.

 

He only wishes that sleep would come to him as quickly as it came to Haiden.

 

* * *