Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Aftermath ❯ Chapter Six ( Chapter 6 )

Aftermath

Chapter Six: Disillusionment

 

“Nnngh,” Haiden moans, holding his hand to his head. “The sun is too damn bright,” he complains, other hand gripping tightly to Kender's reins. They are riding at a slow pace, practically crawling, but it hurt more for anything faster.

 

S'raiya smirks, feeling rather refreshed himself. “You still haven't learned,” he mocks, admiring the rather warm breeze for the late season and the nice weather. “Lightweight.”

 

“Don't make mockery of an ill man,” Haiden returns with an annoyed look that promises revenge later, when he doesn't feel like falling over and dying anymore. “Or Solan will strike you down.”

 

He snorts, switching the reins to one hand as the other digs in a saddlebag for something to eat. An on-the-trail snack, if you will. “If I bothered to believe in such a thing,” Rai returns, and grins again, biting deeply into one of the packed apples with a crisp crunch.

 

There is nothing better, in his opinion, than a fresh apple in autumn. He wonders if the town they are heading to will have some newly pressed cider. Especially if it is hard.

 

“Who does anymore?” Haiden asks rhetorically and closes his eyes, bowing his head against the onslaught of the sun. “Allmighty what I wouldn't give for some salica.”

 

Rai isn't telling him of his secret stash on purpose. It amuses him to see Haiden suffering. Especially since he'd had to carry his inebriated self out of the bar again last night, like he'd had to do two weeks ago in Weirth.

 

Chuckling under his breath so that Haiden can't hear him, Rai turns his attentions to their surroundings and ponders aloud. “Do you really think it's her?” he questions, eyes taking in what was pretty much a barren landscape.

 

Russet, baked earth is most of his aspect, occasionally broken by the hardy dark green of shrubs and bushes. The ground has been scorched by the sun, and the air is dry as well as slightly warm. It is a temperature that threatens to suck all the moisture from his body. The sky is an endless blue vista, a direct contrast to the red clay of the earth. Essentially, it is boring.

 

Yet, it is to this practically deserted, almost desert part of Umbra that they travel because of a rumor that Haiden had heard in a previous town. A bonelord, the rumor declared, had been caught skulking around the nonexistent, undefined border between the two kingdoms. And, hearsay had it, she was being held captive by the locals of the town.

 

It was the she that had caught Haiden's attention. And like a true hero, he had jumped into action. But the speaker hadn't been able to give him any more information other than the name of the town - Sorata. Thus, it is there that Haiden had directed he and Rai immediately head, despite all the protest on S'raiya's part.

 

Maro could take care of herself, he had argued. Nor did he think she would really appreciate their help. A bonelord's pride, after all.

 

Haiden, however, couldn't be swayed. He insisted that they should at least check out the rumors, despite the fact that heading so far towards the border wouldn't net them any ruhin bounty. The ruhin hadn't ventured that far, just as they hadn't made it so far as the sea and Rista.

 

“I really don't know,” Haiden admits with a pained grunt, forcing his eyes to open and fight against the harsh glare of the sun. “But how many bonelords are actually willing to set foot on human territory?”

 

Rai tips his head to the side. “Point,” he agrees with a vague gesture. “But do you honestly think they'll just hand her over if we ask nicely?”

 

When Haiden doesn't answer, he chances a glance at his friend and realizes that Haiden is ignoring him again in favor of trying to chase away the pain in his skull. Chuckling to himself, S'raiya turns his attention to the road in front of them, showing signs of having been rarely traveled. The drought is hitting particularly hard in this area.

 

Rai has the thought that it really seems like their country is sliding into destruction. From their corrupt leaders, to the ruhin, to the drought, to the bandits... clearly something is wrong. But it is also something that cannot be so easily fixed.

 

“Is that it?” Haiden croaks, jerking Rai's attention back towards the scene before them. They have just crested a small rise in the landscape and in front of them, what appears to be a town is now visible.

 

It is in no better or worse condition than any other township that Rai has seen in his travels. Smoke curls from several buildings, obvious signs of residents, and there appears to be the usual hustle and bustle of activity. Just beyond the line of structures and humanity, however, stark and jagged cliffs rise up solemnly. Outlining the unofficially declared boundary between Umbra and the kingdom of the bonelords.

 

Rai gives the entire township a passing, dismissive glance. “Not much, is it?” he comments aloud, shifting to shove his water pouch back into a saddlebag.

 

“It's about the size of Lathe,” Haiden defends, and fights back a yawn as he rubs his hands over his eyes. “Allmighty, I'm half-tempted to find an Inn and call it a day.”

 

“No, sir,” Rai replies shortly, drawing up beside Haiden and knocking him in the shoulder. It amuses him when Haiden sways unsteadily as a result. “You dragged me out here and thus, it is you who will suffer your hangover as we complete your quest. Got me?”

 

Haiden snorts, shooting him a sour look. “And everyone says that I'm the taskmaster. If only they knew.” He straightens in the saddle and flicks the reins, urging Kender forward at a faster pace and forcing Rai to catch up to him. “Let's just see what we can find by asking around.”

 

In agreement, Rai merely nods and follows Haiden down the main road and into the heart of Sorata. Here, they receive a far better welcome than they had in Rista, a few even calling out to Haiden with a greeting. Taking this as a good sign, Haiden slows down to ask them a few questions as Rai chooses to dismount. It always feels odd to him to ride past those walking when in the midst of a town.

 

After patting Flynt on the neck, he leaves Haiden behind and leads his horse along with him, looking for someone who might be willing to provide some suitable information. Street vendors and their customers are most his eyes immediately find. Several businesses are also on this main road, but he doesn't see a bar or inn - the well-known best place to find information.

 

“Young sir, you look to be in need of a smithy!” A voice calls out to him, echoing along with the sound of metal striking metal in rhythmic succession.

 

Rai pauses and shifts his attention to a stall he has just passed, the smell of the forge a telling clue. A man is calling out to him, grin on soot-marked face.

 

“Perhaps new shoes for the horse, or even a look at your weapon there,” the blacksmith continues, wiping his hands off his apron as he emerges from beneath the awning of his shop.

 

Thinking he might be able to get information from this man, he decides to humor the smithy. “My horse has been cared for and as for the blade--” he smirks “--there is a rather fearsome lady who would strangle me if I allowed any other hand to touch it.”

 

The older man lifts one brow, his interest piqued. Carefully extracting a towel from one of his pockets, he finds a clean edge to wipe his fingers. “Might I see it?”

 

Rai reaches for the sheath attached to the saddle and carefully draws the blade - he really does need to get around to naming the sword sometime soon. Unnamed weapons sometimes turn against their owners. The honor should have fallen to Maro, or even Haiden, but the sword is his now. It will be his laurels.

 

The moment the white of the blade is revealed, he can practically sense the blacksmith's interest and surprise.

 

“A bone weapon,” the man breathes with awe, and his hands rise to touch before he can stop himself. When Rai lifts a brow, he promptly drops his fingers. “How rare for one to be in the hands of a human.”

 

“Indeed,” Rai replies, drawing his fingers over the flat of the blade. It still feels cold to the touch, as it always does. And like all other bone weapons, it is light but sturdy, and hilt intricate. He had fallen in love with the sword from the moment it had been gifted to Haiden.

 

The blacksmith whistles. “And how did you come to acquire such a weapon? Steal it, did you?”

 

Rai feels insulted. He doesn't look like a thief. “As if it were easy to thieve anything from a bonelord,” he scoffs, and runs his finger along the edge of the blade. “No, this item was a gift.”

 

“Humans friends with bonelords?” the blacksmith shrugs, patting down the front of his apron. “Stranger things've happened, I suppose. Like the she-bone they caught the other day wandering around our parts.”

 

The conversation is already proving to pay off. Rai feigns disinterest. “That happens all the time,” he dismisses, moving to return the sword to its sheath. “Since you're near the border.”

 

“Not really.” The blacksmith scratches at his stubbled chin, looking contemplative. The raspy noise is annoying, but Rai blocks it out. “Rumor has it she was spying or something. Not that I'd know why.”

 

Rai snorts, and keeps up his pretension of nonchalance, patting Flynt's head and causing the horse to snuffle. “Like the bonelords would ever bother spying on us pitiful humans.”

 

“Aye, that is what I said,” the blacksmith agrees with a wise nod of his head. “But I am just a smithy and well, they don't exactly think of us as intelligent, do they?”

 

His lips curl into an amused smirk. “I can think of at least one that is,” Rai replies, his mind's eye recalling Trahern locked in his tiny study and buried six deep in books. “What do they plan to do with her?”

 

Rolling his broad shoulders, the bones in his spine crackle and pop. “I don't know. The she-bone's being uncooperative and won't give any explanations. Probably death. You know they'll relish the thought of being able to kill one of the lofty lords.”

 

Unfortunately, Rai knows that all too well. There is no love lost between the humans and the bonelords, two races who despise one another equally for different reasons. They are closest neighbors within the land and yet, couldn't get along, even for a pending war. The bonelords had declared the ruhin to be a problem not of their own making, and refused any aid.

 

The blacksmith looks as if he plans to say more, but the sound of a huge, low bell ringing from his stall catches his attention. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he sees a customer waiting with some impatience. Waving to acknowledge the man, the smithy gives Rai a crooked smile.

 

“Well, if you change your mind about the blade, let me know, eh?” he poses, clapping the younger man on the shoulder before he backs towards his forge. “It's long been a dream of mine to lay hands on a bone weapon.”

 

Rai inclines his head. “I'll do that,” he replies tonelessly. “And thanks.” The man has inadvertently provided all the information that S'raiya needs.

 

Though confused by the gratitude, he treats Rai to another askew grin before turning to his customer. Mission accomplished, S'raiya shifts to grab Flynt's reins and nearly collides with Haiden, who has appeared out of nowhere. It makes him jump a step backward, causing Rai to scowl at his best friend.

 

“What did you find out?” Haiden asks, sounding surprisingly chipper for a man who had just been complaining of the worst headache in his life. In fact, he is practically grinning from ear to ear as he moves back to give Rai room.

 

Furrowing his brow at Haiden's strange change in behavior, Rai shrugs and reattaches his sheath to Flynt's saddle. “Their captive is female, and 'uncooperative', which pretty much describes all bonelords if you ask me. You?”

 

Haiden chuckles, cracking the fingers of one hand. “It's her,” he replies proudly, and Rai can't help but wonder who he stumbled across this valuable information. “By description and name both. Though why she's here, I don't know.”

 

Grey eyes examine him critically. “What did you do? Mug one of the local guards and demand information?”

 

“No.” He only appears briefly affronted before jerking a thumb over his shoulder, forcing Rai to follow his pointing. “But they were very helpful.”

 

The line of sight leads to a group of women, giggling to each other at a stall that is selling fabrics and clothes-making materials. They seem to notice Rai looking and wave at him, light blushes staining their cheeks. And Rai groans, shifting his attention away. He should have known.

 

“Well, I see you're pretty broken up about ending it with Rynneth,” he mutters dryly.

 

Haiden shrugs helplessly. “What can I say? Barmaids always have the best information.”

 

Snorting, Rai tugs Flynt's reins and starts down the road further into Sorata. “Well, did the helpful barmaids happen to mention where the jailhouse was or were they too busy trying to find your bed tonight?” Haiden's popularity never ceases to amaze him.

 

“Just up ahead.” He gestures vaguely to a rather sturdy looking building, a few men gathered out front and trying to appear rugged. “And is that jealousy I hear?”

 

Rai sometimes thinks that he would really enjoy strangling his best friend. “You wish it were,” he retorts, and puts an extra clip in his step. The faster they can rescue Maro like Haiden wants, the faster they can get out of this tiny town.

 

Stormy eyes regard him thoughtfully, again with that stare that thinks he knows so much, but Haiden refrains from commenting any further. And it isn't long before they are standing before the jailhouse, Rai opting to remain with the horses while Haiden heads inside to assess the situation. He feeds them some grain from their bags, both steeds eagerly snapping up the oats and snuffling appreciatively.

 

To his surprise, Haiden emerges only a few minutes later, the expression on his face carefully controlled anger. He looks a step away from attacking someone.

 

“Damn backwater villagers,” he snarls as he stalks towards where Rai is waiting. “They wouldn't even let me talk to her, much less convince them to let her go.”

 

His hands snap up Kender's reins, tugging them a bit too viciously, and Rai quickly rescues the mare from her master's anger. Haiden lets him, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. And Rai is very tempted to say 'I told you so' but doesn't to save the drama.

 

“They were too proud of their captive,” Rai states tonelessly, following after Haiden who seems to be stomping away in no particular direction. “And you know Maro. Nothing would ever make her submit to anything a human commands.”

 

Haiden snorts, firming his lips in frustration. “Spying,” he spits in disgust. “Like she would ever bother to do something like that.”

 

“And the verdict?”

 

“Hanging.” Disgust wrinkles his expression, his lip curling in disapproval. “Tomorrow, I suspect. Something tells me they just want a damned scapegoat.”

 

Rai has the feeling that he is probably right. Umbra still suffered from the aftereffects of the ruhin attack. The people were scared and worried, the drought undoubtedly not helping matters. As well as the lack of cohesion in the monarchy. Still... something doesn't quite add up unless...

 

“Remember,” Rai begins slowly, piecing some rumors he had been hearing frequently over the past few months together, “the general populace doesn't know what caused the ruhin to invade. Just that they did. It wouldn't surprise me if they tried to blame the bonelords.”

 

Haiden stops his frantic pacing, which has led them to a mostly abandoned side street. “That could lead to war,” he says lowly, a touch of concern entering his tone.

 

Rai inclines his head in agreement. “And if the bonelords find out that one of their own was executed without any sort of trial, the consequences will be disastrous.”

 

“Shit,” Haiden curses, and scuffs his foot against the ground. “Damn, damn, damn. We can't let that happen.”

 

It takes all of S'raiya's effort not to sigh heavily. “So what, we're going to be heroes again? Rescue the damsel in distress? Save the kingdom?”

 

Looking over his shoulder, stormy eyes glared with the force of thunder. “I'm not just going to let Maro die either, Rai. She risked her life to save these ingrates.”

 

“All of us did,” Rai returns easily, coming to a stop just behind Haiden. The horses snuffle restlessly. “Saving her could just as easily start the war as letting her die, especially if these so-called ingrates think that the bonelords did it.”

 

With a growl, Haiden punches the wall, his back taut with the force of his anger. “This is stupid,” he hisses, shoulders heaving.

 

Rai has never seen this side of Haiden before, used to witnessing the calm and collected Haiden. The gathered Haiden that seems unflappable and never shows his weaknesses. It bothers him for some reason, and he can't help but wonder why. He knows that Haiden seems to think he needs to save everyone, but honestly, when does it end?

 

Twisting his jaw, he searches for the right words. And though he hesitates, he says it anyway. “This is not the same thing as Suerte,” he states quietly. “You don't have to be his voice because he's gone.”

 

“And you don't have to be the voice of reason all the time!” Haiden snaps in return, his gaze burning into the side of the building. “Damn you and your logic.”

 

He tries not to let the words get to him, but they seep into his emotions anyways, and Rai feels a cold irritation flicking beneath his skin. “Don't blame your cowardice on my logic,” he hisses in annoyance, well remembering all the decisions he's made where Haiden could not.

 

Silence ripples through the small alley, broken only by the sound of the horses pawing at the ground. Rai simply watches Haiden as he stares at the ground, surrounded by the smell of the dank back street and the faint noisy press of the crowds beyond them.

 

“We're going to save her,” Haiden finally declares, dropping his hand from the wall and paying no attention to the bruising and faint bleeding of his knuckles.

 

Haiden turns and looks at him, stormy eyes firm and raging. “She's not going to die on my watch.”

 

He knows that tone of his voice. It means that Haiden is going to be stubborn, that there is no swaying him now. He could argue and protest, but all that will accomplish is Haiden going off on his own. And S'raiya can't let him do that because someone has to watch Haiden's back.

 

He brushes fingers over his forehead, feeling his temples throb. “Tonight,” he suggests as Haiden gathers himself together, trying to calm his anger. “It'll be easier to sneak in and out. In this backwater town, their defenses can't be that strong.”

 

Haiden inclines his head. “Let's do it.”

 

* * *

 

Like most villages the same size, Sorata turns silent and still not long after the sun sets. Having stashed their horses on the edge of town, within a clump of boulders and sagebrush, Haiden and Rai crept back into town. They left behind everything but a couple of daggers and one layer of clothing, for quick and silent movement. It is cold, the chill sucking at S'raiya's body heat, but he easily manages to put it aside as they dart from shadow to shadow.

 

The streets are deserted, even the only tavern patroned by few. Most of the homes are dark, though a few are still lit by lanterns. And nothing stirs; the rats in the alleys barely notice their passage. Rai follows behind Haiden as they weave in and around, making their way to the jailhouse.

 

One guard stands out front, pacing slowly back and forth and looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. There is a small and bright flare of orange and puff of smoke above him as he puffs on a stick of tobacco, shoulders hunched against the cold. He doesn't seem particularly interested in being on watch, probably only outside for a brief smoke.

 

Haiden looks at Rai, whispering under his breath as quietly as he can. “They had only about five guards when I went there this afternoon. No doubt there's even less now.”

 

“Who wants to bet that he's the only one right now?” Rai smirks, eyeing the puny excuse for a guard that paces across from them. Likely, he is only a volunteer from one of the locals.

 

Stormy eyes harden with resolve. “I'll take him down, you slip in past me,” he murmurs, hand dropping to tap the dagger strapped to his thigh reassuringly.

 

Rai has hardly nodded before Haiden leaps to his feet, quiet and quick footsteps sending him shooting across the space between he and the guard. The man gets all of a moment of warning, turning at the same moment that Haiden attacks. His mouth drops, tobacco falling from his lips to the ground, eyes widening, and then he collapses, knocked unconscious.

 

Grinning to himself, because this might be just a little fun, Rai sprints after Haiden and takes the opening he creates, darting into the darkened doorway of the jailhouse. He pauses briefly to scan the entryway and first room before ducking inside. Flickering candlelight illuminates an unoccupied, cluttered desk and not much of anything else. Just beyond him, another hall leads towards the back.

 

Senses in full swing, Rai creeps forward, listening intently for signs of any other guards. Behind him, he hears the sound of Haiden dragging the unconscious man out of plain sight. Smart move.

 

Sliding along the wall, and keeping to the shadowy side of the rather short hall, he finds that it opens into another room. Two cells line one side, separated by a wall in the middle of them and encaged with thick iron bars. Within the right one, he can just make out a form perched on the bed, sitting with elbows balanced on their knees and feet flat on the floor. It is easy to tell it is Maro, what with the way her skin practically glows in the dark.

 

A quick glance around the room shows that it, too, is unoccupied. Relieved, S'raiya steps out of the hall and moves to the front of the cell. Only one candle is lit, making the cell shadowy, but he can still see Maro plainly.

 

“Back for more?” he hears her say boredly, voice raspy and without even looking up. Knowing her, she had probably heard him coming from the front door. “Honestly, I would have thought you humans would be bored by now.”

 

It is a statement that makes Rai want to ask lots of questions. But he refrains for the moment. “You know how tenacious we can be,” he replies with a smirk. “It's always been a point of contention with you.”

 

Within the cell, Maro's form completely stills and her head rises, every so slowly. Dark eyes, sunken like all bone lords, lift and meet his gaze. He is alarmed by the shadowed bruising he can see on her face, and how her lower lip is swollen and cut.

 

“S'raiya?” she whispers, and then rises to her feet awkwardly, her steps a disjointed gate to the bars. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

His gaze flickers over her body as he answers, having to look up to meet her gaze. “Heard of a damsel in need of rescuing.” Despite the dimness, he could see several marks on her body. And the manacles around her wrist hardly seem necessary.

 

Her lips twitch into the semblance of a smile. “Liar,” she retorts, still managing her usual poise and cool. “Haiden made you, didn't he?”

 

“Right on target.” Rai drops his gaze, flickering around the bars in search of the lock. “Key?”

 

She blinks. “Key?”

 

He arches one brow, giving her a look. “What did you think I was here for? A visit at close to midnight?”

 

Maro sniffs and turns her back to him, shuffling towards the low cot shoved against the wall in her cell. It gives him a perfect view of her back, the material ripped in several places and revealing bleeding marks.

 

“You could have saved yourselves the trip,” she declares, lowering herself back onto the bunk with a stifled cry of pain. “I didn't ask to be rescued.”

 

Rai rolls his eyes. “We're here already. And you can try and convince Haiden to leave you here.” He turns away from here and starts poking around the boxes and cabinet still in the room. He hopes that Haiden had searched that guard for the key. “Good luck with that.”

 

“Haiden is a sentimental fool,” Maro rasps, but there is a hint of gratefulness in her tone. A glance over his shoulder reveals that she's hunched again. She must be in pain, and her pride won't let her admit it. Just like her pride won't let her be saved.

 

Rai snorts in agreement, and continues his search, pawing through the drawers in the desk and finding nothing but various odds and ends. It is frustrating. And he wonders what is taking Haiden so long.

 

“Ah,” he suddenly states, locating a box full of familiar things. “I found your belongings,” he informs the bonelord.

 

She doesn't respond and he wonders if she's purposefully ignoring him, or if she's lost consciousness. Pulling out the items, he tucks them under one arm and moves back towards the cell. “Maro?”

 

“Who the hell are you?!”

Rai whips his head to the side, to the hall that led back to the front room. One of the locals stands there, hand dropped to his sword as he glares at Rai. His face is twisted into an angry scowl and his eyes flicker around the room, quickly assessing the situation. It doesn't take a genius to realize what's going on.

 

“Just a stranger passing through.”

 

The man growls in his throat and draws his blade in one smooth motion. “Bastard,” he roars, dropping into an attack stance. “What did you do with Braxton?”

 

“He decided to take a nap,” Rai informs the man coolly, his free hand falling to his dagger. He will wait for this opponent to make his move first, eyes narrowing in concentration.

 

Apparently, the local doesn't take well to sarcasm. His eyebrow tics and then he takes an angry, heavy step forward. Lips twisting into a snarl. Until the sound of a low thud echoes through the room and the man's eyes promptly roll up into the back of his head as he topples, sword clattering away from him. And just behind his unconscious form, Haiden stands with a cocksure grin on his face.

 

“Who needs to watch my back again?” he prompts, stepping over the unconscious form. A jingling sound accompanies his entrance.

 

“Oh yes, please my knight, save me from the terrible soldier,” Rai responds sarcastically, sighing with faint aggravation. “I see you found the keys.”

 

He tosses them into the air and catches them again, twirling the ring around his finger. “That I did.” Striding up to the bars, he looks in on the bone lord. “Evening, Maro.”

 

“Have I ever told you how much of a fool you are?” she responds with exasperation, looking up at him.

 

He inclines his head, looking for the right key and inserting it into a look. “I believe you told me quite often back then.”

 

Funny how they all call it “back then”. There is no term for how they defeated the ruhin, or how they spent three months fighting against all odds. Their pain and suffering and sorrow is all bundled up into “back then”.

 

Maro chuckles, but it is humorless, and she rises to her feet again as Haiden successfully unlocks the door and swings it open. “You coming with us?” he questions, stepping aside to allow her to exit. “Or would you rather stay in this human prison?”

 

She moves to the open doorway, holding out her wrists. “I owe you nothing,” she states as he quickly unlocks the cuffs. “You did this on your own.”

 

“Of course.” The shackles drop to the floor with a loud clank. Haiden gives her a look over, but he refrains from commenting on her injuries. “Ready to go?”

 

“I've overstayed my welcome,” Maro replies with a hint of her own humor, and steps out into the room. It is then that her strength fails her and she falters.

 

S'raiya is immediately there, throwing her arm over his shoulder. Though she towers over both of them, he is at least taller than Haiden.

 

“You can assure me of your strength later,” Rai grunts as he bears the brunt of her weight, which is lighter than he would have expected. “Save it until we're far away from here.”

 

Her breathing is heavy near his ear. “Duly noted,” she gasps and Haiden is kind enough to take her belongings from Rai's arm, stopping long enough to sling her cloak over her shoulders. It should help to hide the glowing paleness of most of her body. As does the hood he draws over her head for the white of her hair.

 

And then they are fleeing into the night, creeping out of the jailhouse and through the streets of Sorata. No one seems to notice their escape, and the two guards are left unconscious somewhere behind them. But by the time they wake up and can sound an alarm, the three plan to be halfway towards Weirth. And once there, in Tennyson Manor, they won't be touched. If the locals can even trace them that far.

 

They choose to double up on Flynt, Rai's horse far stronger than Haiden's mare. Besides, Rai is the more experienced at tending to wounds and they'll have to do so mid-ride. Haiden takes the bulk of their supplies, a sense of urgency in their movements. And then they are gone, riding across the barren land and heading straight for Weirth.

 

“If we keep a steady pace, we should be there within a few days time,” Haiden explains, sounding faintly breathless.

 

“Great,” Maro pants, and hunches just a bit, face twisting with pain. The pace and sway of the horse cannot feel comfortable for her. “More humans.”

 

The two males exchange glances before Haiden shakes his head. “I'll ride a little ahead, keep an eye out for ruhin.”

 

“You do that,” Rai mutters, digging around in his pack for the medical supplies he had hastily grabbed. “Drop the cloak, Maro. Or let those wounds get infected. It's up to you.”

 

“Pushy brat.” She sniffs, and with great effort, forces her shaking fingers to unclasp the cloak, and goes ahead with pushing her shirt off her shoulders as well, leaving only her under clothes. Rai internally remarks that it is a good thing the bonelords are not as modest as humans.

 

In punishment for the brat comment, Rai swipes an antiseptic over one of the lash marks and takes great pleasure in hearing her hiss at the sharp sting. He wouldn't do something like this to Ryn, she would've squealed and cried. But Maro just twitches and glares over her shoulder.

 

He grins cockily. “Not a brat,” he reminds her. “So be still.”

 

She responds noncommittally and returns her attention to the path before them, lit only by the large white moon in the sky. Rai wonders why it always seems bigger, paler when it sets over barren wasteland. When looking through the trees, it feels farther out of his reach. And in the cities, surrounded by people, it seems as distant as Elysion. But here, in what might as well be desert, it almost feels touchable.

 

Maro falls into silence and Rai lets her, treating and cataloging all of her wounds without comment. The humans must have amused themselves at her expense, and his mind tries to recall for him his treatment at the hands of the ruhin. But he forcefully pushes those memories aside, treating each lash, burn, and bruise as though he were merely a physician and she his patient.

 

Even as he succeeds in chasing away the nightmares, other memories crop up to take their place. Like he has been living through since “back then”, experiencing one happening over and over. A stretch of sky that goes on forever and ever.

 

The sound of a shovel sinking into hard earth met his ears, attracting Rai's attention. As he rounded the corner of the manor, he found himself in the courtyard. His mind helpfully supplied images of what the ruhin had done, but to his surprise, he didn't find anything like he remembered. In fact, it was a completely different scene.

 

Maro was in the middle of the courtyard, digging what appeared to be several holes. The guards who had once been put on display were gone, the wood used to prop them taken down and dismantled. And by the look of things, it seemed Maro had been there for some time.

 

“What are you doing?” S'raiya asked, stepping out into the courtyard. His boots crunched over grass long-dead, odd for Spring, and it was then that he noticed the light sprinkling of rain. The sky above was indeed a gloomy grey.

 

She didn't even look up at him. “What does it look like to you?” Maro demanded crossly, shovel striking the soil in a steady rhythm.

 

Rai was quiet for a moment as he watched her appear to be digging several graves, if the mounds of dirt he could now see were any indication. “I thought you didn't care for humans.”

 

“I still don't,” Maro spat, her pale, almost translucent skin even brighter against the dull shade of the sky. She paused in her digging, leaning on the handle of the shovel. “But it is sacrilege to leave their corpses like this. It offends Lord Ashmodai. I cannot stand here and watch them suffer.”

 

He tipped his head to the side, intrigued by the evidence of her respect for her god. He hadn't known that the bonelords were that devoted to their beliefs. “That even applies to humans?”

 

“It applies to any living creature,” Maro snarled, and abruptly continued to dig. Rai was not offended by her belligerence as he was quite used to it.

 

She shook her head, continuing without any prompting on his part, “I would expect this of a human,” she stated as though there was a bad taste in her mouth. “So disrespectful... this only proves that the ruhin are merely creatures. Tasteless creatures.”

 

With an imperious sniff, Maro tossed more dirt over her shoulder. Rai could already see it smudging her clothes, the formerly fine linen of her qipao and under pants. A dusting of the brown earth was on her face and it was obvious she had been at this for some time, high spots of color painting her pale cheeks.

 

Rai glanced around, finding that more than half of the bodies once on display in the courtyard had been buried. She had already took down the rest, arranging them properly. Closing their eyes, adjusting their clothes, giving them a semblance of their former dignity. It was more than the humans had been able to do themselves, what with the manor and most of Weirth abandoned.

 

“Why here in the courtyard?”

 

Maro sniffed dismissively. “You don't know anything of the bonelord, do you?” she demanded, shovel striking a rock in the dirt with a sharp clang. She leaned down to dig it out. “They'll continue to protect this manor if we allow them to. They only need the proper farewell.”

 

He supposed that it made sense. S'raiya knew enough of the bonelords that they believed the bones of a corpse to carry the properties of their owners. Strength and skill, like the weapons they made from the bones of great warriors. Like the blade that Maro had gifted to Haiden without any explanation at all.

 

He watched her for another minute longer before sighing to himself. He couldn't just stand by and let her do all the work. Rai ignored the twinge of both his wounds, especially his shoulder, and reached for a nearby shovel. Yet, he couldn't quite hide the pained gasp that slipped past his lips.

 

“What, by Ashmodai, do you think you are doing?” Maro demanded, stopping to glare at him. By Solan, she almost sounded worried for him. Perish the thought.

 

“Helping,” Rai replied simply, even though every movement hurt like hell. He could endure. “I can't dig but I can damn sure fill up the graves.”

 

Her dark eyes followed him for a long moment, categorizing every wince. Maro allowed him to fill up half a grave before stalking over towards him and snatching the shovel out of his hand.

 

“You're going to get yourself even more injured,” she declared with a glare, tossing the tool away from him with a clatter. “Sit down.”

 

S'raiya sat. He didn't think for one moment to argue. Because Maro, despite being “younger” than him, was quite fearsome when she was angry. It was also disconcerting that she stood nearly a head taller than him and could lift nearly three times as much as he.

 

“I don't know what you're thinking anyways,” she grumbled, moving back to her own shovel which was probably twice as long as his with a wider blade. “Neither you or Haiden. I never did. Strange humans.”

 

Rai chuckled at her demeanor, and tried to calm the aching that was building in his shoulder. Loka had told him not to use it but he couldn't be so idle either. He watched Maro dig another hole with surprising speed. It helped to have a bonelord's strength he supposed.

 

“Sticks and stones, dearest,” he teased.

 

She tossed him a baleful look. “What are you doing wandering about anyways? Haiden's probably frantically looking for you.”

 

The statement was odd, but he chose to dismiss it. Maro was strange herself, and really, it didn't pay to question her. “It was stifling. I had to escape.”

 

The wind stirred and Maro looked over her shoulder at him, a strange expression in her sunken eyes. There was understanding there, a sense of companionship. And then she was snorting again.

 

“Don't pass out on me,” she grumbled, which was pretty much acquiescence in Maro-speak. “I won't haul your bag of human flesh back into the manor.”

 

S'raiya's lips pulled into a grin, knowing that she was just grumbling for the sake of grumbling. A camaraderie had developed between all of them, so if necessary, she actually would do just that. Though it probably wouldn't be a comfortable experience for him.

 

He said nothing more, simply watched as she dug graves for the guard who had fallen. All who were only human.

 

Maro hisses, and he apologizes immediately, the sound dragging him from his recollections. He supposes it isn't the best idea for them to be treating her wounds in the saddle. But it also isn't smart for them to stick around Sorata after freeing their special prisoner. Thus the escape.

 

“It's fine,” she mutters through clenched teeth, gripping tightly onto the reins. “Though Loka's magic would be nice to have right now.”

 

Rai winces, and carefully tapes bandages over the worst of them. “Loka's no longer in this world,” he informs her, the reminder sending a pang of regret through him. “Her magic consumed her. Trahern's looking after Gaelin now.”

 

He watches as she ducks her head, accepting the information. “The world has experienced a great loss,” she murmurs, hunched against the chill of the evening wind.

 

“That it has.” Rai reaches for the folds of her clothing and draws them back over her thin shoulders. “I'm done.”

 

Noticeably quiet, Maro nods. “You're help is appreciated, S'raiya.”

 

“Don't thank me, thank Haiden. He's the hero.”

 

A noncommittal noise echoes in the bone lord's throat as she lifts her head, gaze following Haiden as he rides ahead of them by a few paces. “So it would seem.”

 

* * *